Shit, this wi-fi in the Motel 6 really sucks. It has kicked me off 3 times in the middle of posting without saving my entry. I'm tired. The passed couple of days has been a whirlwind. Z, Lint, and I had a night of debauchery in Aspen. We watched a Talking Heads cover band re-creating the 'Stop Making Sense' documentary and then for some drunken reason we stayed in a $300 hotel room.
With all this wasted time, we left last night for Moab and stayed in the Lazy Lizard Hostel. I slept a coma-like sleep and when I woke I realized I must've slept deeply because I didn't hear the snoring groans of Z and Lint.
We made up and hit the road at 7am. Storming down the highway in foggy and blurred heads we dozed in short naps and told stories. But the most enlightening story was of Z as a teenager. He loved spinning. For some reason I thought he meant a way of getting 'high' but after I had him clarify what spinning was I realized his goofy pasttime was just a whimsical hippy game spent by himself twirling in fast circles. Huh, who knew?
The Navajo Nation flew by. The day opened up with pleasant sunrays spackling over the slickrock and fins of the arid desert. Shadows shown in my mind and the landscape. Then Lint bought a Spam burrito at one of the trading posts. Five dollars he spent on that disgusting things. Lint groaned and wailed, his face grimaced, and Z and I laughed loudly for the 20 minutes it took him to eat it.
Lint's eating exploits did not disappoint in Flagstaff either. At Sizzler, instead of going for the greens like Z and I he hit the taco bar up. His plate pooled with red-orange grease that seeped from the ground beef plopped on his plate. The lipid juice had a oil sheen in the light. He then spit back out a masticated chicken chunk into the greasy pool. The liquid spattered in the table and he groaned again. I guess the Spam burrito tasted better.
After this scene, Z had a moment in the same booth. A large belch emitted from his mouth just as the older, lovely waitress approached our table.
Oh, the beasts we were and are; right back at it.
We headed south towards Tuscon frequently rolling down the windows to air out the most recent fart from whoever laid gas. We did this for hours and the car became cramped. Thankfully, Tuscon came quickly and we rode right into a shoe store. Lint bought 4 pair of Altras and Foxtrot, a AZT thru-hiker, met us as we are hooking him up with a lift to the terminus.
Then, on to Sierra Vista. I hit a brief state of recollection and I thought of riding in a shuttle van in my 2011 failed AZT attempt. Despite the failure, I firmly believe that was the most important part of my hiking life that year----that failure, from that I learned so much.
In the distance the Huachuca Mountains appeared as a dark and high contrast from the desert valley below. I noticed no dirigible in the sky that once floated aloft near the island range. The dirigible was used as a heat sensor to find drug smugglers in the desert. I think I had been expecting to see the blimp, but because it wasn't there I realized this time is different, a new walk.
We pulled into the Motel 6. We're living in swank, from Aspen to Sierra Vista. So, what next? Our last supper was a surprisingly amazing sushi and Japanese dinner. We gorged and feasted and relished in our luxury. Tomorrow we hike.
At the motel, Z and Lint poked fun at me while I crooned over the phone with a friend. Another good laugh and the sun set.
Tomorrow the Vagabond Loop begins...