Camping.

Little Wild Horse Canyon

In the eighteen months since Cecily's birth, we haven't gone anywhere. In fact, the child has never slept anywhere other than her own bed (with the occasional exception of her car seat and stroller). What can I say? I value my sleep--which is dependent on her sleep.

At the beginning of the year, though, Paul and I made a list of all the exciting things we wanted to get done this year:

Item #1: Remove carpet from bathroom. [Check (with an emphatic hallelujah!).]

Item #2: Install drip irrigation. [Not quite check.]

Item #3: Go camping during Caleb's kindergarten testing break. [As of last night, check.]

Being a mountain goat

Valley of the Goblins

We originally planned to go to Arches, but by the time we found out when Caleb's appointment for his test was, it was too late to make a reservation for that campground. As a second choice, after much discussion, we settled on Goblin Valley (which is in the same remote quadrant of Utah--sort of southeast).

Frankly: I was excited to see Goblin Valley, but I was a little disappointed that we weren't going to Arches. I've only been there once, and we didn't even make it to Delicate Arch, which seems like a travesty for a native Utahn.

Junior Ranger!

I was, therefore, more than pleasantly surprised to have such a fabulous time at Goblin Valley. We got there in the afternoon yesterday, and after setting up camp, we spent an hour or so in the Valley of the Goblins--all by ourselves. Caleb was deeply invested in (a) climbing as much as possible and (b) earning his Junior Rangership. He said things to me like, "Mama, just so you know, you're not supposed to climb there. That's what the rules say, and I'm a Junior Ranger*."

Doing a sand angel

Cecily was deeply invested in absorbing as much red dirt into her skin as possible. She rubbed handfuls of dirt into her hair. She licked her hands, rubbed them in the dirt, and then smeared the muddyish mixture on her face. She made sand angels in the dirt--face first. She also has an apparently inborn drive to do whatever Caleb does. Was he climbing as high as possible, causing his mother to quake just a bit? "Up!" says the one-year-old. "Help! Please!" (She only speaks in exclamations.)

Proof: there was some sleep.

This morning--after a rather raucous night's sleep--we went to Little Wild Horse Canyon (seven miles from Goblin Valley). Again, I'm a native Utahn. Of my 33.5 years, I've lived 29.75 of them in the Beehive State. Never heard of Little Wild Horse Canyon. Is this a little-known secret? Or am I just not in the loop? Regardless, it was incredible. With a minor amount of necessary climbing, we hiked through this remarkable slot canyon with a one-year-old and a six-year-old. CC rode on Paul's shoulders most of the way, but it was totally doable without a kid carrier.

Little Wild Horse Canyon

We saw tons of lizards.

Caleb scaled every available surface.

I only got a little bit claustrophobic at the end**.

It was perfect. I'm so glad that Arches was full.


*Apparently, "Junior Ranger" is another way of saying "Junior Wet Blanket" or "Future Debbie Downer." 


**I wasn't sure how much farther the narrows (2-3 feet wide) were going to go on, and I could hear people behind us, which made me feel panicky. After we'd rested for a bit at the wide end, we were heading back to the car (me at a speedy pace to ward off the claustrophobia-induced panic attacks) when--of course at one of the narrowest junctions--we crossed paths with a couple coming the opposite direction. Caleb and I found a part of the path that was about six inches wider than the rest and tried to flatten ourselves against the walls of the canyon so they could pass, but the couple came up close and just stood there, inches away from me. 


They were foreigners. They were probably thinking, "What kind of strange ritual is this American engaging in?" or possibly: "Oh, good! Other people! Let's stand close to them in our German way! Guten tag!" 


I was thinking, "I can't breathe with you this close to me," and then considering fainting dramatically. 


Fortunately, disaster was averted at the last second when Paul decided to make them his new friends by engaging them in conversation, which caused them to stand unnecessarily close to him instead of me. Phew.