The day went and went and went. And when it was over I’d covered nearly 30 miles of ground.
First thing in the morning–post haste!!–I take a giant spill while making my way into the first wash of the day. You’d think I’d be tumbling gracefully by now, but no, just…no. Poor sorry ankle is beat within an inch of its life and despite keeping it taped I fear I’ve weaken it a good deal by subjecting it to southern Utah, which, quite simply, has to time for any of the lower him extremities. Good start for sure.
Luckily, after that walking was easy with not another obstacle to cross other than Last Chance Creek which was full of water and running strong. I must have crossed 100 times, never higher than ankle deep. So the pack was light, the tread was level and my mind felt free as air, or rather, nearly as free as air. I’ve been concerned about weather–I dont know why it’s been such a fret for me–and because the day was overcast I kept bracing for the storm that would turn my pleasant little stroll into a clash with a flooded riverbed.
By evening I’d made it to Paradise Canyon, which…excellent name. I’ve yet to determine why it deserves such an accolade, since it resembles many of the others in this ancient state, but someone must have been feeling generous. So I camp in Pardise Canyon, tucked deep within the bony arms of an old pine, and it’s like being held. What a fortunate thing.