the last that i had taken down this way was a reverend of the first class. real gent. also one of the craziest bastards i had ever met. and the craziest one i ever respected. this time, however, was an entirely different ballgame. i had the woman i had only recently asked to be my woman forever. dangerous game with dangerous cargo. i had the world driving in sooby. an explanation will be needed for that last part.
sooby. the explanation is that's my car's name. the further answer to the coming why is that sooby is an ancient, mythical iguana from madagascar. according the legend, the sooby were gods of full heart and cunning wears. where they may have come short in agility and stamina, they where giants among the brave and valiant. i'm going to have to skip the obvious sooby v. banoble war because i frankly wasn't paying that much attention when i was with the high priest. more than frankly, i was blasted out of my mind off of bourbon and was at the point where words simply escaped me. both out of my mouth and someone else's. so, to follow a well meaning, but senile old coot was inescapably beyond me. but, again, i digress. my car and the sooby were the same color. so i named my car sooby.
time i came back to the point. just outside of moab, utah is where it all went down. many were involved. some where angels. some where devils. but they all helped in some way. it was time to go off the grid and off i went.
we entered the canyon how all do. no secret there. we meet with the guide, shafer. much like virgil leading dante down to hell, i followed her through the twists and turns of the descending limestone. she was sweet and well meaning to be sure, but i shouldn't have trusted her. her curves where mesmerizing and i simply lost all ability to handle the situation rationally. i was giddy with excitement at what lay ahead and i just followed like a little blind puppy who smells bacon.
the eventual goal was night two of four--white crack camp. top three most gorgeous spots i've ever seen, with hanging valley ranch and my fiancee taking the top two spots (two and one, for those keeping score at home). that being said, i implored to the fiancee that this long crawl was all about the journey and not the destination. i could tell by the look in her eye that the descent had planted the fear in her heart. but she's a tough one and i wasn't worried. it hadn't grabbed me. yet.
a word about the terrain. seriously fucked. okay, that's two, but it's just a two-word terrain. there were cacti coming in from the left and right of the path the size of mutant porcupines. as if that wasn't enough, razor sharp rocks sliced out of the surface like a rusted table saw. it was an obstacle course for a kangaroo mouse, let alone sooby. at times, the hills when straight up and straight down at eighty-nine degrees, leaving only one degree for traction. the only safe place was the sky, so, sometimes, you had to drive on that. we never left first gear and never broke the five mph marker. like i said, it was a long crawl.
back to the trial. or, rather, trail. according to canyon law, we had to stop off at musselman to pay our dues. beast of a creature with rippling muscles that modern man hasn't even evolved. and slightly illiterate to boot. in my younger days, i would have straddled his shoulders and conquered him with sheer strength. but those days are now past and i prefer a slightly less direct approach. so, with a cool head and smooth talking, we kept our distance and parted in peace. Funny what the years will do. a few more hours down the road, we pulled into our camp for the night at airport tower. from what i understand, it got its name from the plane-sized vultures that roost at the top of the butte. ugly as sin with a real taste for human skin. nothing but skin. they just leave you, fully filleted as a present for their desert brethren. the only vulture who starts the job instead of finishing it. anyway, luckily, they were in hibernation. otherwise, our temporary home would be uninhabitable. here we met up with our fellow travelers. they were veterans of this land and, more importantly, they were family. always good to have back up, especially back up of your own flesh and blood. they were traveling in a vehicle, whose familiar name is lexy, but i'll let them tell you that story. if and when you ever run into them. having set up camp, we relaxed into the canyon sand with a feast fit for kings. marinated flank steak with a side of fine wine. it had been a good day. and i didn't even have to use my ak.
the next morning, we left in a flurry. white crack was that day's final camp and we were all off a mind to hit the trail early. the road kept it's two word name and on we plowed, deeper and deeper into the silent landscape. around the second bend, we came upon a woman of mystifying misery. she stood there, against the canyon wall, washing her clothes in a basin. back and forth along the washboard, she scrubbed the same piece of cloth. everything was dyed in red. the cloth, the water, even the blush of her cheeks. we watched her do this as we continued to move. there was no consoling, no helping, no words to be said. she just washed. back and forth. back and forth. the next bend couldn't come sooner. but it finally came.
hours passed. we came to a fork in the road and hung a left, straight out to the rim. and there, perched on the edge of the maze, with the needles poking up along the horizon was white crack. it was here that i had once found my peace of mind and here that i had left a small piece of it. native legend has it that it was here where a thunderbird had struck the earth with a bolt, creating the landscape on which it now perches. i figure that sounds about right. after pitching camp and while the others settled in for early afternoon meditation, i grabbed my six strings and headed out. a small hike later, i was sitting on the edge of the cliff, singing to the canyons and thanking them for their gift. a couple inches over on the sundial later and i was joined by my fiancee. i sang again, this time to her, and professed my love with the land bearing witness. the ritual was complete. i had done what i had come to do.
that evening, my family, my finacee and i feasted again. this time it was fit for gods. delectable crab cakes and a quenching chenin blanc that paired perfectly with the desert sunset. life doesn't get any better. and it knows better than to try.
the next morning, we enjoyed a breakfast that would make the irish proud and planned our escape. it was two days out and the path was treacherous, but we had made it this far and there was no reason to think it couldn't be done. so off we went. the day started like any other. dodging the prickly pears and sidestepping the well-honed stones, sooby crawled forth. then it happened. a shot rang out. i saw what looked like smoke in my rearview mirror and i feared for the worst. as i stepped out of sooby, the smoke turned red and i realized that it was only the desert dirt flying from lexy's tires. better than smoke, i thought, but still a problem. i reached my family and one look in their eyes told me all i needed to know. it was the murphy gang and they were out for blood. i have a history with them, but it's never been personal. given my present company, however, this time it was. i spoke before about my younger self and how he and i tend to make different decisions. this was another in an increasingly long list. there was a day, i would've had it out with the murphy boys. in fact, my first instinct was to do just that. i got into sooby, headed towards their canyon and hit the gas. but after another assault of crackling bullets,nn i stopped, turned and, in a tornado of dirt and sweat, went out the way i came. it was a long day of retreat with anger gnawing at my pride like a teething dog on a rawhide.
at the end of the day, it wasn't worth it. we may have won. but then there's that other possibility. and, in that case, i wouldn't be writing all of this down in the comfort of the gonzo inn. wouldn't be dining with my family and fiancee tonite at the desert bistro. and i wouldn't be able to pack an arsenal for next time and beat the shit out of those murphy boys.
- snook.
Location:the gonzo hotel, moab, Utah.
