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Hiking at antelope island

A Trip to Antelope Island

March 16, 2018

The last few weeks have taken a happy turn, Tony and I had been getting a little desperate with our house hunt in Maine. Everything was either a scam, out of our price range, or really just the most dismal hole a college student ever was forced to live in. If you remember, in January, I talked about the perfect place that we had found – less than half a mile from the beach, a jetted jacuzzi, a garden, really more than we could have hoped for. In a cruel twist of fate, it was ripped away from us due to the landlords unexpected and impending knee surgery and we’d been morosely searching in vain ever since. Well, as luck would have it we got an email last week. The knee surgery had been a misdiagnosis and “would we still like to rent the place?” We celebrated with champagne and have been on cloud nine ever since!

This past weekend, in an effort to do something besides work, cook, blog, sleep and repeat, Tony and I drove to Antelope Island State Park. Surrounded by the great salt lake, herds of Bison lazily grazed, turning their backs to the invasive tourists, and the highest peak of the island is accessed by an eight-mile, round-trip hiking trail rated as “difficult.” Tony had picked the trail and we started hiking around 1:00 pm.It was fairly easy for the first mile and then we started to encounter snow which got deeper as we went up. Not many people were on the second half of the trail and the ones that were warned us to stay off the ridge. The path was fairly traversable until the last 0.2 miles where you either had to scale the ridge or follow a foot-beaten path on a snow-covered, 15% hill grade. It started out fine but as the grade increased and the snow melted with the sun, chunks of the snow would tumble away beneath your feet, leaving your heart racing and your hands clawing at the snow drifts to your side for anything to hold onto to. It took us nearly an hour to get across that last 0.2 miles but we finally summited to an incredible view. You could turn in a circle and see the lake on all sides and the surrounding mountains. A mailbox had been hauled up and buried under rocks with a cairn on top, some notepads and a pen were sheltered inside where hundreds of people had scrawled their name.

We wrote our names in and then hit the trail again as it was 4:00 pm and we were losing light. The way back was just as nerve-wracking and the footing was worse but we finally made it and loped down the rest of the trail, giddy to be out of harm’s way. We stopped for groceries on the way back and got home, took hot showers and ate chili dogs in front of the TV with that wearied satisfaction that you can only find after a hard day in the elements. I wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything!On our drive back down Tony nearly did a 180 in the driver’s seat as he spotted a sign for In-N-Out Burger. It had been 20 years since his last In-N-Out Burger and he’s been gnawing at the bit to get one again, sure it would be a religious experience and probably worth the eight-hour drive to Vegas. Surprisingly there was an In-N-Out not 15 minutes from our house so the next morning we drove to In-N-Out, each ordered a double-double and shared a fry. I must say it was better than I expected although I’m pleased we didn’t drive eight hours to get it.

To Be Continued…

March 16, 2018

The last few weeks have taken a happy turn, Tony and I had been getting a little desperate with our house hunt in Maine. Everything was either a scam, out of our price range, or really just the most dismal hole a college student ever was forced to live in. If you remember, in January, I talked about the perfect place that we had found – less than half a mile from the beach, a jetted jacuzzi, a garden, really more than we could have hoped for. In a cruel twist of fate, it was ripped away from us due to the landlords unexpected and impending knee surgery and we’d been morosely searching in vain ever since. Well, as luck would have it we got an email last week. The knee surgery had been a misdiagnosis and “would we still like to rent the place?” We celebrated with champagne and have been on cloud nine ever since!

This past weekend, in an effort to do something besides work, cook, blog, sleep and repeat, Tony and I drove to Antelope Island State Park. Surrounded by the great salt lake, herds of Bison lazily grazed, turning their backs to the invasive tourists, and the highest peak of the island is accessed by an eight-mile, round-trip hiking trail rated as “difficult.” Tony had picked the trail and we started hiking around 1:00 pm.

It was fairly easy for the first mile and then we started to encounter snow which got deeper as we went up. Not many people were on the second half of the trail and the ones that were warned us to stay off the ridge. The path was fairly traversable until the last 0.2 miles where you either had to scale the ridge or follow a foot-beaten path on a snow-covered, 15% hill grade. It started out fine but as the grade increased and the snow melted with the sun, chunks of the snow would tumble away beneath your feet, leaving your heart racing and your hands clawing at the snow drifts to your side for anything to hold onto to. It took us nearly an hour to get across that last 0.2 miles but we finally summited to an incredible view. You could turn in a circle and see the lake on all sides and the surrounding mountains. A mailbox had been hauled up and buried under rocks with a cairn on top, some notepads and a pen were sheltered inside where hundreds of people had scrawled their name.

We wrote our names in and then hit the trail again as it was 4:00 pm and we were losing light. The way back was just as nerve-wracking and the footing was worse but we finally made it and loped down the rest of the trail, giddy to be out of harm’s way. We stopped for groceries on the way back and got home, took hot showers and ate chili dogs in front of the TV with that wearied satisfaction that you can only find after a hard day in the elements. I wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything!

On our drive back down Tony nearly did a 180 in the driver’s seat as he spotted a sign for In-N-Out Burger. It had been 20 years since his last In-N-Out Burger and he’s been gnawing at the bit to get one again, sure it would be a religious experience and probably worth the eight-hour drive to Vegas. Surprisingly there was an In-N-Out not 15 minutes from our house so the next morning we drove to In-N-Out, each ordered a double-double and shared a fry. I must say it was better than I expected although I’m pleased we didn’t drive eight hours to get it.

To Be Continued…

Savannah Says...

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2 Comments

  1. The climb, the view, and the rental in Maine, too! I love reading along 😊


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