Wednesday, June 12, 2019

Route 191 to Arches Scenic Drive

Mature Content

This passage contains content that may not be suitable for all audiences. Read at your own risk.
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We woke together. His head rested on my chest, and my heart rate and breathing escalated as I surfaced from sleep.

"Six hours to Moab."

I patted his head. "We have to talk about that."

He pouted, one hand circling my chest.

"There are no trees to hang from at Arches. It's an established campsite, nearly primitive; water pump, toilets, fire pits, and picnic tables, but nothing else. I have a portable stand, but it's not designed for two bodies. And it's in the middle of National Preserve land, so dispersed is forbidden."

"So I'm on my own."

"You're welcome on my plot, but I won't have any shelter to share."

"I understand." He was silent for several minutes. "Can I see your maps?"

"Of course." I started to shift, but he held on.

"Not yet. Later." He kissed me, and we finished waking up together.

He studied my topos of the area thoughtfully. "What would you suggest?"

"Assuming you have survival down pat.."

"Assume I do."

"There's no-where for you to camp between here and there. But here, you can hike back and forth between Frisco and Breckenridge all season. Five miles or so one-way. Your biggest problems are food, bears, and mountain lions. If you need a change of scenery, you can take Meadow Creek Trail further north, or Wheeler west and south, around the other side of Tenmile."

"How well do you know those trails?"

"Not at all. But you can probably buy topos in Frisco, and almost definitely in Brecken'."

"Will you be coming back this way after your week in Arches?"

I shrugged. "Probably."

He studied his feet. "But you won't be the same person."

"Different roads. And miles to go before I sleep."

"And miles to go before I sleep. I'll be here, if you come looking."

I drove out of Frisco with my hand resting on an empty seat.

"Six hours to Moab."

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