Once upon a time
in a land not so very far away there was a fest. "What Fest?" you
might ask... Exactly. In this not so very far away land there was a boy named
Ben and a girl named Sierra and they very much enjoyed music and dancing and
adventure. Because of this mutual appreciation for radness Sierra and Ben found
themselves at the aforementioned What Fest; a great gathering composed of eclectic
local-ish hipsteresque musicians and the roving band of hippies that
accompanies such musical entities. Now
music and dancing and shenanigan-like behavior is great by itself, but when
these ingredients are combined with a liberal dose of adventure the result is
straight-up raditude. Sierra and Ben, both holding advanced degrees in
adventure studies, realized the potential for a heightened state of awesome and
began implementing project A1, (the "A" stands for Adventure:)
Project A1 would utilize a not so top secret algorithm for assured maximum
stoke:
[(Endurance + ΔH20 +
Wild Wilderness)*Looping]^1.5 sketchiness = Awesome
Saturday July 26, 2014
-- Prelude:
Ben awoke to the smell of warm fluffy pancakes and Sierra's
voice announcing the completion of "stacks on stacks of flapjacks".
Extricating himself from the maze of limbs entrapping him, Ben groggily poked
his head out of the tent and narrowed his eyes at the onslaught of brilliant
summer sunbeams. Sierra's face sharpened into focus; armed with a spatula and
with the glint of impending adventure in her eyes she announced that it was
time to consume the stacks on stacks of flapjacks so as to get an early start
adventuring. Not being one to discount the merits of maximized adventure time,
Ben's head quickly disappeared back into the tent. As he leapt into action an
indistinct voice trailed out from the recesses of the tent asking if it was
past noon yet. "Nope!" bubbled Sierra, "Its 8 AM"! A chorus
of mumbles and groans emanated from the unzipped tent fly as Ben tumbled out,
Fully dressed in sheik matching red and black running shorts, shoes, singlet,
and signature bandana. As they gulped down the delightfully fluffy flapjacks,
Sierra raised an eyebrow and commented on the unique flavor of the savory
golden pastries. "Do these sort of taste like beef"? Hmmm pondered
Ben. "Yup". "They tots
do". "Thats because I used the same griddle we made burgers in last
night" Smiled Sierra. "Extra flavor"!
Finishing up
their beautiful breakfast, Sierra and Ben bid goodbye to their fellow hippies
preparing for a tough day of day-drinking and hopped in Sierras signature blue
Ford explorer bound fast for high adventure!
--Stage 1:
Our two adventure aficionados headed east away from the densely
populated metropolis of Encampment Wyoming (population 52) and towards the first target location of their adventure:
Six Mile Gap Landing on the North Platte River. After turning on to a winding
dirt road wandering the rolling hills through sage brush and cattle land, the
two pulled into a dusty gravel parking lot overlooking the breathtaking North
Platte valley. Here they unloaded their two boats, made lunch, pumped water,
and proceeded to carry everything down the steep trail leading to the rivers
edge. After making several treks up and down the hill (and Ben commenting
several times about it's potential for hill bounding if not for the foolishly placed
stairs) they finished ferrying their essential gear and hopped back into the
Explorer and stuck out to find destination two of their adventure.
In order to
complete all 5 stages of adventure, Sierra and Ben needed to find Pickeroon
Landing, a location approximately 9 miles down river from Six Mile Gap. It was
here that both stages 2 and 5 of their adventure would begin, and as such a
necessary point to drop their vehicle. As they drove further down winding dirt
lanes that crisscrossed the sun scorched prairie, they noticed an ominous sign
warning of terrifying terrain and almost certain imminent death. Unfazed, our
two heroic adventures laughed in the face of such trivial travel warnings,
confident in their ability to rally the explorer up Mount Everest if the need
should arise. As Ben smiled to himself about the juxtapose of the brown prairie
against the blue sky, he noticed that the
point where to two met in front of him seemed to be getting rapidly
closer. "Odd", he thought. "I wonder what's up there? Ben did
not have long to wait before he found out. The dusty ground immediately in
front of the explorer fell away into the sky as the previously flat prairie
dove into the abyss. Ben and sierra slowed and looked down in awe as the road
before them forked, either diving straight down into the great chasm before
them, or skirting it's edge before plunging in snaking spasmodic switchbacks
down the sheer hillside. Sierra cut the engine and Ben jumped out to determine
which path would be more feasible. After an extensive survey of the landscape
the two adventurers leaned back against their trusty transportation and looked
at each other. Without saying a word they both knew what had been decided.
"I just don't want to risk him". Said Sierra. "I Know”, replied
Ben. "He isn't the young truck he used to be"... "It would be a
lot for him". "Well then" Said Sierra, "Stage two starts
from here?" It could be a long walk with the boats later on" Ben said
raising an eyebrow and peering into the canyon depths." "We can
deal" Intoned Sierra in a deadly serious manner as she shrugged back her
shoulders and leveled her steely gaze on the crazily careening road before
them.
"Stage 2"? asked Ben, clipping on his water belt.
"Stage 2." Sierra replied as she shouldered her hydration pack.
"Stage 2".
--Stage 2:
Carefully picking their way down the treacherous hill our
two adventurers set off on stage 2 of their epic journey; The goal of this
stage being to find the trail that reportedly parallels the river, then follow
said trail up-stream to the gear drop site from stage 1. As the two neared the
bottom of the canyon they were met with another surprise. Rather than finding
the river and Pickeroon landing, they were met with a sharp turn as the rode
plummeted further down into another valley, unseen from above. After running
for what seemed like an eternity the tell tale rush of water finally greeted
their ears. Glancing at his Polar RS400 watch, Ben grimaced. " "It's
been almost 45 minuets" he said glancing at Sierra. "all downhill".
Shrugging, Sierra turned, matter-of-factly replying, "It'I’ll be longer
than that carrying the boats back up".
With a dry chuckle Ben turned the corner and was met with the sight of
the river. Loping up to the sandy boat landing he peered out across the
iron-tinted water scanning the far shore for any sign of a trail. "Doesn't
look like much" He said. "I guess we cross and see what we can
see". Ben and Sierra forded across the foam crested rapids of river and
came upon a campsite with a well traveled gravel road leading away from it. Not
seeing any sort of foot trail, the two began to run up the road looking for
anything that might betray the presence of the mysterious trail they sought.
After making several unsuccessful attempts to follow trails only to have them
dead end, the two struck out into the woods. Bushwhacking a short distance
through thick foliage near the river's edge, they soon emerged onto a great
swath of prairie and began to bound up river. Leaping over scrub and sagebrush
like gazelles our two adventurers soon happened upon a slender footpath wending
it's way over the sage speckled hillside. The trail, for indeed this was the
trail they were looking for, paralleled the river, but became less and less
well traveled the farther they progressed. After fighting through more and more
frequent walls of vegetation, Sierra and Ben rounded a corner and were met with
the sight of their trail tapering off directly into the roaring water of the
Platte. Having no choice but to cross, our heroes bravely soldiered through the
rushing water and up the steep muddy embankment of the opposite shore. With
fingers crossed Ben scrambled atop the embankment. hoping against hope he would
emerge onto the trail, he stood and peered into the maze of towering pines
surrounding him. "Hells Ya"! He exclaimed, "I think I've got
it"! Sure enough, a thin path making its way up river was worn into the
forest floor. Sierra and Ben continued their run, muscular legs relentlessly
pounding the hard-packed earth as they drew ever closer to their destination.
As the miles passed the trail became noticeably more established and they were
greeted increasingly often by the
sight of lone fly fisherman standing in the dancing waters; patiently flicking
long lines of yellow in lazy arks through the sparkling air.
Several GU's and
a cliff bar or two later our adventurers burst out of the woods and into the
Six Mile Gap Landing. After many long hours of running (3:00 precisely) they
had finally conquered stage 2.
--Stage 3
Indescribably pleased that the food remained where they had
hidden it, Sierra and Ben set about completing the most important stage of
their journey; Stage 3: Refill and Refuel. Scarfing down PB&J at a rate
approaching the speed of light the two lazed along the lush riverbank and
soaked up warm rays of sun as they ate. Upon finishing their feast, they once
again made the hike up the long dirt hill with tragically misplaced steps to
restore their water supply. "Were going to need it", said Sierra.
"We still have the hardest stage ahead of us".
-- Stage 4
Time during this
stage seemed to slow, and our adventurers found themselves at deep peace with
both themselves and the world around them. Wandering down the river under the
sweet summer sun they closed their eyes and breathed in the rustling of the
trees and the sighing of the wind. They listened to the sparkling water whisper
secrets to lazy water striders and learned to be swift and silent from wise
brook trout lurking in its deep dark pools. Lost in that place somewhere
between thought and seen they dipped their toes into the cool creek and smiled back at the sun as
slowly stage 4 slipped away.
-- Stage 5
streaked in dirt,
sweat and grime our heroes carrying their herculean load marched step by step
up the great hill. Each step a struggle they heaved great gulping gasps of air
as with every footfall they ascended higher into the waning evening sun. After
what seemed like an eternity the pair looked up and found themselves confronted
by the hill. That precipitous piece of insanity to which the trail grimly clung
to was all that remained between them and the end of their journey. Resituating
his load Ben squared his shoulders and with wild cry broke into a run. Legs
pumping and heart pounding he focused every once of his will into slaying the
great beast. nearing the final precipice and glancing up he could see the red
rays of the dying sun silhouetting the figure of their car--it's looming shadow
like that of some great primordial giant. With a final burst of speed he surged
over the top and onto the steppe. Raising his burning arms to the heavens he held his boat aloft and proclaimed to all
the world that he had conquered what from that point on should be known as
Bitch Hill. Collapsing in a heap Ben was presently joined by Sierra. "We
did it" he gasped. "Stage 5 is done". "Were done"! "I can't believe it" exclaimed
Sierra. "We really made it"
After savoring their victory for a moment the two
adventurers packed away their gear and climbed into Sierra's trusty Ford
Explorer."Where shall we adventure now"? asked Ben. "Oh, I don't
know" replied Sierra with a smile. "Wherever the wind takes us I
suppose".
And with that, they drove off into the sunset.
- The End (until next weekend;)
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