Matriarchs and Patriarchs,
Bet you’ll never guess what we did this weekend! Any guesses?? No? Another amazing camping trip with our beloved brotherhood!!! As usual the boys were about as excited as vegetarians at a meat festival. After preparing our trusty shuttles, we blasted of just like a rocket on its way into space. The drive was thrilling, filled with personal anecdotes, hitter songs (bro) and long sullen silences. Staff established a 10 minute rotation between the three: funny stories for ten, nice music for ten, long sullen silence for ten.
Upon arriving in the Paria Canyon Wilderness area (wait, have we been here before?), we disembarked at Whitehouse trailhead, beginning our jovial yet sullen trudge through the mochachino river. Though the water looked like it could have come from a primo Seattle coffeeshop, our staff told us that looks could be deceiving, that it was not, in fact, coffee, and that we were not allowed to drink it. I know, what a bummer. Not sure if I believed the handler though, for I have heard tales of prime coffee flowing like water in parts of Utah. But I digress. Yes, the trip.
After a brief period of tarsal, metatarsal and phalanges submersion, we emerged from the icy water (coffee?) bigger, faster, stronger (Kanye West/Daft Punk) and simultaneously more ready to be vulnerable. We found ourselves at what looked like the ancient Norse tree of life, which in Arizona is known as just another tree. At said tree we hunkered down, ate, laughed and spoke of love and death. Much was gleaned from this conversation by all. The merits of Sushi vs. Sashimi were discussed, with no clear victor emerging.
The next morning, again we plunged headlong into the river. Extremities were angry and numb. After a certain, unwoodsmanlike distance, the reigns were pulled on and our sled dog pack halted in its tracks. Two true outdoorsmen came swaggering out from the other direction, relaying to us the treacherous conditions that lay ahead. With new intel, the decision was made to turn back. Live to fight another day. The group was content with the decision and turned tail as if a five course meal waiting for us back at the campsite. But there was nothing. But foodbags. Lots and lots of non perishables. Mind over matter though. If you see ramen but imagine a filet, what will it actually taste like? An age old question to be answered far above my paygrade.
Lacking water, we retreated further back to the vans and selected a new campsite where a fire was built and valued member of our brotherhood told us tales of past times. It was cathartic to say the least. Heart strings were tugged at for sure. Sitting back at the house writing to you now, all sarcasm aside, I can authentically tell you all, parental XYs and XXs, that your sons had a truly wonderful weekend in the woods. Until next time folks.
Resident X
