The big desert trip
Met some of the most wonderful people and experienced the most outstandingly beautiful scenery that I can ever recollect.
Big old funky 60's bus called Max, going on its last trip. No conventional seats, but 38 of us sleep and live in it for the duration. We drive through the night, or park up in wild, share chores, chill out, talk long into the night,... some of the highlights.
The hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, bring your own water and sleep rough. Watched the full moon rise into the clearest sky. It gets over 100F in the day so i doze mid river lying on a rock cooling my feet, ahh bliss. Deer come to the waters edge to drink, while lizards skid across the pebbles. The route back out is torture, setting off at 5am to avoid the worst of the heat. Eighteen miles of sand and rock. The cheese sandwiches which are our main stay turn to fetid goo.
Sitting up front of the bus, with feet on the dash, stereo blasting, getting a full back and head massage while watching the big open desert un fold at 70 mph.
Monument valley on the back of a pick up truck driven by a crazy Indian. Up sand dunes, getting stuck axle deep in mud, crashing into another vehicle full of staid tourists. We go off the beaten track and he gives us all the indian stories, names of rocks and songs. We even learn some indian drum beats. This is a must visit place.
Watched the sun rise slowly at Bryce canyon, setting the terricota peaks alight with every huw. The ground was covered in ice and breath swirled in front of us, but we sat on the canyon rim snuggled together in a duvet, watching another day unfurl.
Sitting round a raging camp fire sharing the hard learnt drinking games of my biker days. This is something the British can excel at.
Scrambling and walking up and up an ever sharpening knife edge ridge. The ridge top a meter of so wide which drops either side for a vertical 600m straight down. Reassuringly grippy sand stone, with ropes for tricky bits, but climbing down is hard work when you are forced to look straight down and can see the bus parked in valley appearing only a few millimeters long. The nice thing is I climb this with my friend and we chill out on what seems the roof of the world.
Vegas bright lights are best seen drunk, as it makes very little sense. This is Blade runner meets Disney land. A vast empty desert and with a city that assaults every sense, random features appear around every corner, venician gondolas scooting across the road, every image is bigger, bolder and madder than the last. You come away wondering was it real or just some hallucigenic dream. Finding a shop that specialised in message chairs, an hour of utter relief from the numerous aches and pains that hiking and the alcohol tomfoolery seem to induce.
The post trip parties. Leaving here is the hardest thing I've done.
Some pictures of the desert
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Big old funky 60's bus called Max, going on its last trip. No conventional seats, but 38 of us sleep and live in it for the duration. We drive through the night, or park up in wild, share chores, chill out, talk long into the night,... some of the highlights.
The hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, bring your own water and sleep rough. Watched the full moon rise into the clearest sky. It gets over 100F in the day so i doze mid river lying on a rock cooling my feet, ahh bliss. Deer come to the waters edge to drink, while lizards skid across the pebbles. The route back out is torture, setting off at 5am to avoid the worst of the heat. Eighteen miles of sand and rock. The cheese sandwiches which are our main stay turn to fetid goo.
Sitting up front of the bus, with feet on the dash, stereo blasting, getting a full back and head massage while watching the big open desert un fold at 70 mph.
Monument valley on the back of a pick up truck driven by a crazy Indian. Up sand dunes, getting stuck axle deep in mud, crashing into another vehicle full of staid tourists. We go off the beaten track and he gives us all the indian stories, names of rocks and songs. We even learn some indian drum beats. This is a must visit place.
Watched the sun rise slowly at Bryce canyon, setting the terricota peaks alight with every huw. The ground was covered in ice and breath swirled in front of us, but we sat on the canyon rim snuggled together in a duvet, watching another day unfurl.
Sitting round a raging camp fire sharing the hard learnt drinking games of my biker days. This is something the British can excel at.
Scrambling and walking up and up an ever sharpening knife edge ridge. The ridge top a meter of so wide which drops either side for a vertical 600m straight down. Reassuringly grippy sand stone, with ropes for tricky bits, but climbing down is hard work when you are forced to look straight down and can see the bus parked in valley appearing only a few millimeters long. The nice thing is I climb this with my friend and we chill out on what seems the roof of the world.
Vegas bright lights are best seen drunk, as it makes very little sense. This is Blade runner meets Disney land. A vast empty desert and with a city that assaults every sense, random features appear around every corner, venician gondolas scooting across the road, every image is bigger, bolder and madder than the last. You come away wondering was it real or just some hallucigenic dream. Finding a shop that specialised in message chairs, an hour of utter relief from the numerous aches and pains that hiking and the alcohol tomfoolery seem to induce.
The post trip parties. Leaving here is the hardest thing I've done.
Some pictures of the desert
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