GNAST: Day Eleven + Twelve

We don't wake up early in hotel rooms. We get up for free breakfast, go back to sleep, and stagger out just before mandated check-out. Camp sites, we're gone super early. I wonder what the difference is.

But Utah!

I drove us down to Salt Lake City, weaving through actual traffic (holy crap, people!) and billboards until we had a spot in a parking garage near Temple Square. We walked around that, taking a zillion pictures, and we had our own personal tour of the Conference Center. I got to see the massive organ! With like... seven thousand pipes, I think. Crazy. It's really beautiful, with a lot of thought and effort and creative engineering. There's a three-acre fountain garden on the roof.

After Temple Square, and a brief directional mishap, we walked to the Cathedral of the Madeleine. I'm not practicing Catholic anymore, but I would go to Mass there in a heartbeat. Even Aaron wants to. It's a beautiful cathedral, and even a dropped piece of paper echoes. I love cathedrals. I love how they're open, I love how they're old-style, I love how even the homeless are welcome to hide inside from the desert sun. It was totally worth the uphill walk.

After some planning, we drove down to a southern suburb to visit one of Aaron's high school friends, who graciously loaned us her driveway to repack for the airport (and also took our leftover food that we didn't want to bring back, and things like charcoal and lighter fluid). Her two little boys "helped." It was five by time we finished, so we had to head out. She gave us directions to Deseret Ministries (see: Goodwill) to drop off our unwanted camping gear and a burger joint she liked, and off we went to get a final tank of gas and eat something for the... uh, first time since breakfast. I was crashing so hard (also disappointed, because this whole time I had just wanted a sunny mountain climb and our plane took off in six hours). Aaron almost took the keys from me. Chubby's was delicious, and we took my leftovers with us.

This is the Place Monument was closed by the time we got back into Salt Lake City, but Ensign Peak Park wasn't! There was some steep driving up to the park itself, through neighborhoods that must be atrocious in the winter, but voila, a park! With a mountain! And trails! And religious history significance! It's second to the Monument, but works the same. So off we went.

Disclaimer: We're dumb.

We walked up to the first lookout point, and saw a broken-down wire fence and some stripped placards that had once blocked off a trail. Presuming the trail open, we looked up the face of the scrub-grass-covered mountain and said, oh, sure, let's go! So, dumbly, we plowed on, only making it up the incline because of our awesome hiking shoes. (Mine grip so well they literally pick up trash on tile floors.)

Maybe a little past halfway up, I was wheezing and missing my inhaler. There was a rock face that looked like maybe if I climbed up/through the rocks, I could get over the worst without the miserable switchbacks. Aaron took the switchbacks. So I went scrambling up the rocks (and had a great time, don't get me wrong) and took pictures of my view. Then went back down the rocks, because of course they didn't lead over the top, like a crab because my legs were too weak to manage a 45-60 degree slope. I slid down some like a slide. It was fun. Back on the hill, I pulled my phone out of my sports bra and called Aaron. Because while on my rock, I had seen some people moseying up a sidewalk of all things on the other side.

"Hey, is there an easy trail back down on the other side?"
"Yes. Yes there is."

Cue cursing. I promised to see him... whenever I got all the way up. Cue climbing on all fours, because walking like a bipedal human led to slipping on loose rock, and actual... you know, mountain climbing. Testing hand and footholds, planning routes, praying not to fall down the damn mountain, climbing over rocks. I was hot and tired and had to stop every 15 feet to catch my breath (yay desert altitude!) and it was AWESOME. It was pretty much vertical by the end.

Aaron met me at the last 20 feet or so and led me somewhere I could sit down and wheeze in triumph. I figured out how to take panoramic photos on my phone and we looked around at the lake, at the valley, found the Temple, everything. Everything I had wanted.

Then came the walk back down, which was steep but so doable that people were running it and carrying kids, and our legs shook the whole time, but then we were back at our car and I checked my running app for the mileage, calories, and elevation profile.

WE'RE LEGIT, Y'ALL.

1.01 miles, 465 calories, one hour, 4500 feet to 5300 feet.

We were out of breath and chugging water all the way to the carwash (poor Banana, she was filthy) and all the way to the airport.

At the airport, we had no problems returning the rental car (with 3910 new miles--heck yes unlimited miles) and began the fun process of checking in and checking baggage. We had to redistribute some weight, but got everything through. I changed clothes and we sat around finishing the burger leftovers, drinking all of our remaining water, and playing on our phones. When the security line went back to near nothing, we got in line.

Whereupon I looked at my boarding passes and they had my married name. I have not changed my name yet. The only thing I have in that name is a debit card.

Why hello there, TSA!

We had a lovely TSA supervisor who called the TSA HQ or whatever and confirmed that I wasn't on any no-fly lists, I guess, validated my boarding passes, and we got through security with no further delays. It was only 20 minutes. Aaron apologized profusely. TSA lady was just like, "so how long have you two been married?" I'm pretty sure they've dealt with worse.

Our plane took off at 12:15. I read fascinating things about the Cascadia fault and confirmed that Charleston has better seismic and flood codes than the entire state of Oregon and I'm never living there. As soon as we were boarded, Aaron force-fed me Benadryl because the dust from our climb was violently expelling itself and I apparently looked and sounded like crap. I watched the midwest lightning storms from the plane for a wonderfully drugged four hours (and slept for most of it). We had a sleepy hour-long layover in Charlotte, and got to Charleston around 8:30. I found my car, paid the $96 for leaving it in the lot, picked up Aaron with only one sympathetic scolding from airport security (no waiting in the loading zone!), used a wedding gift card to get Taco Bell breakfast, and we went home and promptly slept for seven hours. Lena wasn't even mad. She's been clingy and cuddly ever since, actually.

Sweet, humid, sea-level, secure building, home.

(Pictures again out of order.)