I Really Need to Make Some Friends

Well, now that I live in Logan my social life has gone to pot. I know only a few people here in the Cache Valley so I have a lot of free time on my hands. In fact I was so bored the other day that I got out my old o chem text book and started writing out mechanisms for fun. Yikes. I did bust out my guitar and learn a few new songs. This clip is a little sampling of some of that action. I don't have the bridge down just yet, but give me an hour or so and I will have it mastered. 

Homeless

My truck filled with all of my stuff

Yes, it is true, I left the beauty of Southern Utah for the arctic tundra that is Cache Valley. Utah State begins classes on August 27th, but Walgreens needed me sooner than that, so I made it here 3 weeks early. My apartment complex lets students move in on the 20th, so that still left me 2 weeks of complete homelessness to deal with. I wanted to camp up the canyon, but my dad said that was not going to happen. So I made plans to live with a friend from Hurricane for those two weeks.

My glove box and its contents

On my way to Logan Monday morning I got a phone call from my friend letting me know they had car troubles and wouldn't make it to Logan until Tuesday. She offered to call around to find me a place to stay, but I assured her I could manage for one night. Upon hanging up I realized my dreams of being homeless were coming true. I was giddy with excitement. I started making plans. 

Fortunately I have a very bad habit of leaving things in my truck. You can call it lazy, but I call it self preservation. In my glove box you will find the normal things like my registration and proof of insurance, but you will also find a backpacking stove, fuel, a lighter, granola bars, beef jerky, oatmeal, and a bottle of water. Behind my seat I keep a large backpack, my smaller daypack, several freeze dried meals, a giant first aid kit, a sleeping bag, an entire case of water rolling around freely, a fishing pole, a small tackle box, and several old pair of running shoes. Inside my backpack I have a water filter, tea kettle, compass, tarp, and a healthy length of rope. 

I began considering my sleeping options. The bed of my truck was the ideal choice, but it was (and still is) filled to the brink with my things leaving no room for me. Okay, the next option would be to sleep in the cab of my truck. One problem. I am 6 feet tall, and my bench seat is a little more than 4 feet in length. No way I was going to do that to myself. The only option left would be to sleep out under the stars. As far as food and water was concerned I was in good shape. Most people would stop at the local grocery store for a loaf of bread or something, but not me. I was in self preservation mode and all those hours of watching "Man vs. Wild" were about to pay off. 

Behind the bench seat of my truck

I stopped in Provo to fuel my truck when I encountered a worn, old homeless man. He sat near a busy intersection with a sign propped up near his feet which said, "Anything will help."  His leathered face was turned down toward the sidewalk. His calloused hands were outstretched, waiting for a good samaritan to leave a gracious offering. Before the light turned green his sad eyes met my gaze. I gave him a half smile and thought, "I know how you feel, pal. We are two peas in a pod." 

I had only been in Logan for an hour when I got a phone call from my Mother. I don't know how she found out about my friend's car troubles, but the text I sent her which read, "Yay! I get to live in the canyon after all!" may have given it away. Rookie homeless mistake! After all my planning and preparation my parents got a roof over my head. I guess my homeless dreams will have to wait for another day. 

I'm Too Young For This

 Last Saturday was no different than any other Saturday. I woke up, threw my day pack together, laced up my shoes, and headed for Zion. Some friends and I hiked the Taylor Creek trail found in the Kolob Canyon section of Zion National Park. The hike in to the double arch alcove is an easy 2.7 miles following a little stream with very little change in elevation. The canyon does continue past the alcove, but hiking beyond that point is not recommended due to a steep landslide full of loose boulders.


We wanted a little more adventure, so we decided to continue up the canyon anyway and do some exploring. My friends often give me grief about my awkward climbing skills, so when we approached a short, fluted, rock I decided it was time to prove myself. I dropped my pack and started climbing. I was about 10 feet off the ground when my foot slipped and the cruel force of gravity shoved me back down to the canyon floor. Upon recovering from my fall I picked up my pack in silence and climbed around the rotten obstacle.


We hiked further until the canyon narrowed and became completely impassable. Trust me, I made a valiant effort to continue. On our return trip I took a nasty spill on a steep dirt landslide and tumbled a good 20 feet before getting the situation under control. Did my friends show any concern or offer help? No. They pulled out their cameras to capture photos of me in my moment of distress. I did, however, make it back to the trailhead in one piece.


Sunday morning I woke up and as I placed my feet on the floor I felt an ache in my ankles. I stood up and and my knees buckled. I took a few steps and my hips creaked. I bent down to pick up my shoes and my back screamed in protest. In a matter of 24 hours it felt as though my body had aged 30 years. Sure, the hike was rough, but I thought I still had a few good years left in me.


Over the past few days I have kept an eye out for other signs of premature aging, and I have been pretty disappointed with myself. Monday morning I caught myself spooning oatmeal into my mouth with one hand, managing my 401(k) with the other, while the voice of Mary Nickels told me of Utah's latest breaking news.  My top 25 most played songs in my iTunes library include ballads from Bing Crosby, The Kingston Trio, Michael Crawford, and Simon & Garfunkel. 9 times out of 10 I have my truck radio tuned to NPR. I am one spoonful of metamucil away from geezerdom! How did this happen to me? But more importantly, how do I fix it? 

Because I Have Nothing Better To Do...

Photo taken near Panguitch Lake

Since deleting my last blog I have had several complaints from friends and family, so I gave in and made a new blog. Why did I give in? Well, Walgreens granted me 10 days of paid vacation and of course I had to get sick right in the middle and I got bored. So here is my new blog. Same stuff, new location. 

Sophie's fish was "this big". 

Even though I have been sicker than a dog for the past 3 days I still got a few things done. In fact, I just finished re-reading one of my favorite books, "The Great Gatsby". I remember raising a judgmental eyebrow at Mrs. Hasenwinkel when she shed tears of pity for Gatsby while reading the book to my 11th grade English class back in high school. She tried to explain the meaning behind the text, but I had no interest. Nobody made it to Gatsby's funeral? So what. But now that I have read the book a few times I, too, find myself wiping away tears of sorrow in behalf of Jay Gatsby. 


The real tragedy is that Gatsby focused all of his efforts in becoming the kind of person someone else wanted him to be. Toward the end of the text Gatsby's friend and neighbor, Nick, realizes, "It is invariably saddening to look through new eyes at things upon which you have expended your own powers of adjustment."  Sadly, we create illusions which often surpass reality and eventually lead to disappointment. Gatsby's life slipped by while he was waiting for the life he thought he wanted. 

River near Haycock Mountain

Elder Richard L. Evans said, "It sometimes seems that we live as if we wonder when life is going to begin. It isn't alway clear just what we are waiting for, but some of us sometimes persist in waiting so long that life slips by -- finding us still waiting for something that has been going on all the time... This is it, whether we are thrilled or disappointed, busy or bored! This is life, and it is passing!" So, yes, this is life, and it is much better to be lived in reality.

The Subway