methane mishap

It's been almost a week since we left Vegas and arrived in St. George (southern Utah's biggest city). Oh my goodness! The gas alarm in our trailer just went off. I jumped up and turned around - utterly perplexed. Rik said "he cranked it up". Good to know that it works so well. So good, in fact, that it detected my fart. It was one of those silent ones...up until the alarm outed me (whoops ;) Ahh, that was classic.As I was saying, before the alarm went off: St. George (6 miles from the Arizona border and 2 hours from Las Vegas) is the one of the fastest growing cities in America. It is still relatively small (50,000+) but it's growing quickly - big influx of retirees and snowbirds. The city boasts year-round golf, 300 days of sunshine and a historic tabernacle (along with many Mormons). However, that's not why we're here...We're here for the rock. There's lots of it. In fact, it is affectionately called "the land of 1000 bolts". Although, I'm sure this number will grow as more walls are developed.The rock is magnificent and red. We're parked across from an awesome arch in the Red Cliffs Desert Reserve (RCDR). I wonder if anyone's developed routes out there. We've climbed once since we got here - spending most of our days and nights working. I go a bit bonkers sitting in front of the computer all day so I've been exploring. I've gone for 2 fun bike rides on a double track in the RCDR. A gradual, winding uphill one-way (with a few whoop-tie-dos) makes for an exhilarating ride back down. Unfortunately, my front tire got multiple puncture wounds. Fortunately, as this is my second flat in 2 months, I'm getting ample practice with patching and repairing bike tires.I went for a walk the other night into the mobile home community next to our park. It's a neat little community with miniature stop-signs. I like walking at night because I feel sneaky. I came across the Harrisburg cemetery and dared myself to go in. I walked past a bull's skull (a nice touch) and in through the open gate. I'm not too keen on cemeteries, and I discovered that my discomfort quadruples in the dark. Luckily, I brought my headlamp. I turned it on to read a headstone...1865...Wow, this guy was really dead. I turned my headlamp off for fear that someone might spot me and think that I was up to no good. Really...who wanders through cemeteries at night besides ghouls and grave diggers?I stood alone in the dark and a bunch of dead people. I didn't want to be there but I figured that this was a good sign that I should stay a while longer. It was like meditation - instead of giving in to my fear and discomfort - I stayed. It's amazing what terrifying things my brain will conjure up with all the right ingredients. A ghost laid its hand on my shoulder. I turned around and saw nothing. I decided to finish my spooky tour. I stepped cautiously - as to not fall into a freshly dug grave.

free money eh?

Here's a lucrative pop-up I had the great fortune of recieving.

Ahh...they look so happy. Doesn't it warm your heart to know that these Americans bought a schooner with free money.

Wow. I had no idea it was so easy for Americans to suck money out of the Canadian government - or that our government is required to pay up (man, that's a big loop-hole).

They don't live, work or invest in Canada but they sure know how to take advantage of a sweet situation.

I'd visit the website but I probably wouldn't qualify - being Canadian and all eh?

Earning My Stripes

If I knew what was to come on the wall above me, I would not have climbed this stellar route. Rik lead it before me and casually reminded me to stay focused and relaxed when I reached the slab.

Sonja: Run out - eh?
Rik: Yeah, a bit.

I was so excited to be climbing on such a beautiful day and was oblivious to the mental aerobics I was about to endure. Tim and Tanya, the tango twosome, arrived just in time to snap some photos (gracias Tanya :).

Luckily the runouts grew progressively longer. The first sketchy one (about 12 feet) prompted me to grab hold of the quickdraw. I know it was poor form but the thought of falling about 25+ feet down a slab made the "handle" look ever so appealing.

A little embarrased by my draw snatch, I moved on. I pulled up over a little roof and was greated with the grandest runout of all (over 20 feet for sure). I was ready to fold my hand.

Sonja: Tell me this is a super easy 5.5.
Rik: Yeah, it's like 5.5.

I assessed the rock and picked my line to the anchor. Physically, it was a breeze - but it was a mental maelstrom.

The descent was equally exciting. The guide book overlooked the fact that you need a 70m rope to lower safely to the ground. Rik climbed up, secured himself to the first bolt and Tim caught me (thanks again:).

shhhh...no shooting

No firearms allowed in the library.

Hmmm. I wonder how many people violated this policy before they decided to put up a sign?
Maybe the security guard was feeling a little insecure? I mean, if someone walks in with a gun and all he's got is a club and an arsenal of hard-cover books...Well, I think he'd be frustrated.

I'd like to see more of these signs. Especially near campgrounds. It's very unnerving to hear gunshots in the middle of my morning yoga.

Friday the 13th...mmwhahaha

So far it hasn't been a freaky friday. A little too normal if you know what I mean. We're thinking of heading down to The Strip tonight. Not much normal down there. Friday the 13th and a full moon - the freakometer should be through the roof. I want to poach a ride on the Luxor elevator. The Luxor is a 30 story pyramid hotel, so instead of going straight-up, the elevator goes sideways and up. What a trip. I'm a little concerned of getting close to their gimassive beam of light. You can see the beam from our campsite - on the other end of town. It wipes out the stars in half of the sky. Stars...whatever...who needs em? Stars are for astronomers not gamblers. Gamblers need cash, luck and a massive beam of light to direct them to the casinos.

scanda-las vegas

Where: Sitting at a red desk on the main floor of a library/art museum in Las Vegas.
What: Taking a blog break and watching Rik finish the other half of my Snickers.
Why: Work today – Climb tomorrow
How: Free wireless internet (ya-hoo!)
Vegas highlights: Organic groceries; bike lanes from the campground to town; solar lighting in the campground pooper
Vegas lowlights: the thick blanket of brown smog; the 315,000-watt light beam shooting from the Luxor’s 30-story onyx-hued pyramid; Whole Foods recycling scandal

More on that…
Whole Foods Market - This is by far the nicest WFM that I’ve been in. It’s got a huge deli and the best bulk section that I’ve seen so far on our trip. It still pales in comparison to The Kootenay Co-op in Nelson, B.C – but oh well…

I have to admit, my initial impression of the Las Vegas WFM was very bad. I arrived armed with my grocery bags and a few recyclables. I hunted for the recycling bins and found a massive can spewing with plastic, glass, paper, food scraps…you name it. They either have an amazing sorting system or (gasp) no recycling at all!

I was flabbergasted. An employee arrived to haul the mess away and I asked him where the recycling bins were. He said there were none. My jaw dropped into my hemp sack. I asked if there was any recycling in Las Vegas and he said no. I said something to the effect of “that sucks” – but no clean words could truly express my dismay.

I desperately scanned the sea of faces, looking for someone to correct him, to assure us that recycling was alive and well in this young city. No one said anything. Instead they tore the plastic wrappers off their plastic forks and knives. They sat in the store eating their takeout meals in their takeout containers.

I walked over to the pizza oven in a wasted daze and was served pizza in a mandatory paper-box. I sunk deeper into my funk and made Rik ask the nice pizza lady if we could recycle the box. She told us that there was recycling at the front of the store. Ahh ... a sweet wave of relief...Maybe there was some truth to their “green commitment” (WholeFoods Market.com)

The check-out man told me that recycling my pizza box was a no-go. My delicious, grilled-veg pizza left a stain that deems the box un-recyclable. I swallowed my heart once again. Then he let me in on a piece of scandalous news…Their recycling program is on halt. The company they paid ($big bucks$) to take their recycling away, was actually carting it off to the dump. I gasped (audibly this time). The scumbuggers were (and maybe still are) Las Vegas’s primary recycling company. Viva, ScandaLas Vegas.