Last week was Axel’s Outdoor Ed field trip and I was dreading the prospect of having to once again pitch our tent onto a soggy manure field. I was also feeling a desperate need to bond with Axel, whose melt chocolate sweet eyes have turned so angry lately because I am not fun anymore and always working.

I called Barbara and Frank to tell them that I was heading off to the desert and asked if they would care to join me. When they said yes I breathed a big sigh of relief. It is true that I can be quite adventurous and spontaneous but sometimes I leave too much into the hands of luck and fate and thinking that I would be fine on my own camping with my children and Muki was down right delusional.

We took off in the late morning with Barbara and Frank following behind, trailing their camper. As we got closer to Moab it began to pour and I became nervous. I had not had the time to do my research and who was I to lead my in-laws to the perfect camping spot anyway? As most of you already know, I am the  youngest in my family and I ain’t no leader.

Even though the rain was putting a damper on our adventure, I drove by the Sorrel River Ranch and smiled thinking to myself, “been there, done that.” As dirty as it may be to camp in the red rock, the only way to really be enveloped by its beauty is to camp in it.

I drove up Onion Creek road breaking into a sweat with my heart palpitating. I really didn’t want to have to get out of the car in the pouring rain and admit defeat letting them in on the truth, that their son had married a certifiable nincompoop.

A car drove up and I flagged him down to ask if I remembered correctly that there were camping sites up ahead. He smiled softly and reassured me that there were beautiful campsites but as he studied Vini-Man he forewarned me that we might not make all of the river crossings that were forming. I thanked him for showing up out of nowhere in the pouring rain to assuage my fears and as he closed his window I could have sworn that I saw little white wings fluttering behind him.

Barbara and Frank parked in the first camp spot we found and I continued up the road with the children to see if we could find the perfect camp spot. The stream crossings became wider and deeper the higher up the road we got and as the boys squealed in delight to forge forward, I fought back images of headlines in the paper saying, “Mom, thinking she’s Indiana Jones, gets swept away in flash flood with children and puppy.”

Finally, I turned around and went back to our original spot teaching the boys that it is important to know when to turn around and heed the warning signals that danger could be imminent.

As we unloaded the rain cleared and left the delicious sweet scent of sagebrush and wildflowers bringing back of flood of memories from the first time my parents took us to the desert when I was ten.

The weekend was magical with the boys running around on the rocks catching lizards and getting into the dirt on their bikes while Barbra, Frank and I sat in our ring of camping chairs watching the light change on the rocks while memories of our childhood flowed into stories.

“Don’t follow me. You’ll Never Make it.”

In the next few days we took two magnificent four mile hikes, one in Fisher Towers and the other in Negro Bill Canyon, named after William Granstaff who was a mixed-race cowboy in the late 1870’s. Granstaff fled the area after being charged with bootlegging whiskey to the Indians.

(Fisher Towers)

(Negro Bill Canyon – One of the sixth largest natural bridges in the country at 243′)

As we hiked Grandma taught the boys the names of all of the wildflowers and Tucker became affixed with breathing in their scents.

(Getting to the natural bridge, very hot and sweaty)

In the evenings, we toasted marshmallows by the fire built by Grandpa and Axel and then we rode out the sugar storms. It wasn’t easy to convince Tucker that he was the lucky one to be sleeping with Grandma and Grandpa in the cozy camper while Axel and I slept cramped in the tent with Muki and her crate, “So Axel is the unlucky one?” he said between sobs and he cried himself to sleep saying to Grandma, “I’m never ever, ever, ever, ever, going to get to sleep with mommy in the tent.”

(Grandpa fed up with my picture taking)

When I crawled back into the tent with Axel he said, “Mommy, sometimes I miss you even when you are right near me,” and I told him that I felt that same emotion all of the time and we hugged and kissed until we fell asleep and I made a silent prayer thanking Grandma and Grandpa for making this trip all that I had hoped it would be.

(Me, Patty and Seana)

Here in the mountains April brings a mixed bag of muddy trails and major snowstorms that dump many of us into a slump and that is when visions of red rock arches, fins and pinnacles infiltrate our minds and our bodies yearn for the adrenaline rush of mountain biking in Moab.

The conversations began with my friends, Patty and Seana, where we explored the idea of taking a break from it all; the kids, the work, the nasty weather and yes, the puppy and the more we thought about spending our days riding through vast canyons and red buttes the more determined we became to take off for the desert and escape the threatening snowstorm.

On this trip we would not be going to sleep with our hats and socks on in an ice cold sleeping bag with nothing but a lumpy pad between our backs and the rocky ground, we were going to pamper ourselves by staying at The Sorrel River Ranch, a place that I have never passed by without a secret yearning to pull in and stay for the night. As rewarding and fun as it may be to go camping with three or four families, it has always been a dream of mine to stay somewhere without the worry of wipey baths and campfire meals lingering over me.

We sped passed the Colorado border sign and noticed that the temperature gauge had risen from a chilly 46 degrees to 70. “Moab here we come,” we sang.

Driving through Moab we had a strange feeling that we were part of a parade that we had not signed up for but it was soon revealed that spectators were lining up on the streets to watch the hot rods roll in for the car show that was happening over the weekend.

It was exciting to watch the scene, for all of ten minutes, and we gunned it out of there to our oasis awaiting us 17 miles up the road off of Highway 128.

We checked into our rustic and cozy room with the Colorado River slowly flowing by, concealing tales of Indians, dinosaurs and adventurous raft trips and we gained a huge appreciation for Robbie Levin, a 70’s rockstar who played in a band with General Hospital’s heart throb, Rick Springfield. Clearly a smart and talented man, Robbie purchased 240 acres of the property back in 1997 and sold 160 acres of it in 2008 to Elizabeth Rad, co-owner of Tribbles Home and Garden, a store located in Tribeca in New York City.

Room at the Resort. Photo Courtesy of Sorrel River Ranch.

Drinking our cocktails on the oversized rocking chair on the front porch we watched hypnotized as the sun’s light set the distant mesas ablaze in its evening glow.View from porch

What a luxury it was to wake up the following morning without anything to tend to but our growling stomachs and we made our way leisurely to town to inhale a 16 ounce Latte at the charming Eklecticafé and get revved up for an entire day to ourselves spent riding in the Juniper and Sage infused desert.

Since I am truly petrified of the word “technical” I made the decision to demo a Specialized Sapphire dual suspension bike from The Rim Cyclery bike shop.The bike helped me to become more one with the desert but I still struggled to fight the fear of body slamming into the gravel by the inability to release from my clipless pedals. “Look up,” advised Elisabeth Osmeloski, the PR Manager for The Resort who bravely rode along with us. Her tip improved my riding by tenfold.

Seana was about as adept on a bike as I was but she looked good, always appearing as though she had just walked out of Vogue Magazine. Posing at the bottom of tough ascents we received compliments for Patty from the young studs riding by, “There’s that switchback girl again,” they said as she muscled her way up. Patty’s dyslexia led her to hear, “There’s that six pack girl.” Either way, Patty rocked!

At the end of the day Patty and Seana were looking forward to drinking an ice cold beer in a lounge chair by the pool and I was looking forward to a long overdue deep tissue massage that I had scheduled at the spa of the Ranch.

Photos Courtesy of Sorrel River Ranch

We parted ways and I met with Brooklyn who introduced me to the world of aromatherapy. She covered me in warm towels and I felt months of anxiety melt away under her firm and healing touch.

Later that evening we ate at the resort’s River Grill, dining on spinach ravioli stuffed with chevre and broiled Japanese seabass with a balsamic riesling reduction, topping the evening off with their to die for Espresso ice cream.

The following day we bid a sad farewell to the Sorrel River Ranch, thanking the friendly staff for delivering to us a brief respite from our hectic lives. On our way home Patty pulled over on a street corner where Tad Brown was making pizzas in an outdoor oven. Tad, owner of Fuoco’s, introduced us to the best homemade pizza I have ever tasted in my life.

Driving home I fell fast asleep to the sound of Patty and Seana catching up on lost time and when I awoke I wondered if it had all been one incredible dream, but this time it was real.

FYI: You too can enjoy yourself at The Sorrel River Ranch Resort as they are offering a special hiking girls’  getaway. Click on this link to find out more.

My mother answered my phone call and listened intently as I told her that I was going through another low with my writing. I read to her the first line in Leo Tolstoy’s book, Anna Karenina, “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”. I whined to her that I was incapable of creating beautiful prose and that my writing had no depth.

My mother has always believed in my writing and has been my guiding light as she refuels me with her positivity. I take her intellectual praise as the greatest gift since she snubs mediocrity and lives to read. This time her response to my cry for help was not what I expected, “That’s wonderful honey”. When I asked her to elaborate she explained that she was excited that I had no debt.

It is my mother, my sister and a handful of friends who keep me positive and on track. As I plow through these moments of low self esteem they do not accept failure from me encouraging me to explore my own voice and telling me to enjoy the journey and not focus on the end result. I am always so impressed by their words of undying wisdom, they are the ones who should be writing!

Ahhh the journey. Whenever somebody mentions anything to do with travel I slip into a deep reverie. I have never stayed in one place for this long without taking off somewhere, anywhere, to break up the monotony and my life is truly getting more and more monotonous as I deal with troubled finances and rejection letters.

So I think I’ll take off for the desert tomorrow, just me and the kids. We’ll explore the rocks, soak up the sun, inhale the air and reconnect and hopefully I’ll come home with a renewed interest in my writing.

OMMMM

Can’t go to the desert without getting naked!