I am standing on a plateau in upper Negro Bill Canyon (near Moab) during a break
in the rain on a piss-gloomy day in March 2007. Though the day was mostly rainy,
the hike was rewarding. I returned to this area in September.
You would be correct to think that this plan seems to be in conflict with my having
been remanded to Granite Hills Conversion Clinic for treatment of my addiction to
Moabian sandstone ( http://www.pbase.com/listorama/image/79769143/medium ). Being at the
clinic was an ugly experience: not only is there no sandstone present, to add insult
to injury there is granite all over the place: the bedrock (exposed in many places),
the Doric columns at the main entrance, and all the counter tops. Walking through
the granite-floored lobby caused me to experience an exhausting series of dry heaves.
Once the convulsions subsided I realized that the staff at Granite Hills was composed of
a bunch of idiots that could be easily tricked into believing that they were curing me
of my addiction to sandstone. It worked so well that I was released on my own recognizance
months earlier than anyone had anticipated. Little does the staff at Granite Hills know
that I am returning to Moab to get more sandstone kicks.
Joe Tripod, my photographic assistant, enjoys the feel of sandstone under his feet.
At the end of my March 2007 stay in Moab, I hid that bamboo hiking stick in a
juniper tree above this canyon. That September, when I returned to Moab, it was
where I left it, but it had cracked open its entire length, rendering it useless.