Day 3 – June 21, 2019

We almost had a “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” moment. We checked out of the Plaza Hotel and we were merrily cruising down the road when Ashley let our a little whimper. “Did anyone remember to grab my bunny slippers?” she cried. I suggested we buy a new pair on our way out of town. Kathy was a bit more sympathetic and insisted we reverse course and retrieve the pink slippers.

A half hour later, the bunnies were rescued, Ashley’s mood improved massively, and we were back on course.

Today’s plan was to visit Zion National Park and to find a campground near the park.

As I drove, Kathy was reviewing her camping materials to find the best place to set up for the night. She contacted several campgrounds but they were all sold out. One mentioned a state park near a lake in Huricane, Utah that had primitive tent camping. They had plenty of available places to set up.

We drove straight to Sand Hollow State Park. It features a lake and sand dunes. Many Jet Skis use the lake and off road vehicles ply the sand.

We chose a site near the lake. The entire place is covered in other worldly orange sand. Ashley said it looks like a scene from a Star Wars movie. The sand is very fine, hard to walk in, and tent stakes slip right in without needing a hammer.

We watched a glorious sunset, played some games, and finally settled down to sleep around 10. Then the real fun began.

With a sudden, violent gust of wind, our tent was under siege. The stakes that slipped in oh so easily were now out and our tent was flapping furiously. Concerned for our safety, we decided to put the tent down and seek shelter.

We handed Ashley the essentials – keys, wallets, phones and glasses and ordered her to the van. Kathy and I fought desperately to remove the poles to allow the tent to lie flat, a maneuver that had succeeded perfectly in prior wind storms.

But this was no ordinary wind. I can’t explain why we didn’t heed the now obvious warning – c’mon, tenters should never stay in a place called Hurricane.

As we attempted in vain to get the tent down, a massive blast of wind lifted our very large tent and plastered it right unto Kathy. On the other side I grabbed and pulled and wrestled with the airborne tent but I was no match for the gale force winds.

We continued to fight the tent. The gust relented briefly and we guided the twisted, mangled tent to the ground.

Kathy dove into the shredded tent amist the shattered poles and endless sand to retrieve the rest of our belongings, of which there were many. Sleeping bags, air mattresses, electronics, computer, toiletries, clothes, shoes. Ashley was right there with us loading up the van.

The van was parked about 100 feet away, across thick, silty sand and now 75 mile per hours winds. Normally, we could carefully consider the precise location of each and every item. Tonight it was shove it in and close the door. Worry about it later.

I hate to use the word surreal because it is way over used. But this scene was surreal. I felt like we were in a movie. The sky above was clear and calm and beautiful. The kind filled with the wonder of endless stars. On the ground it was Armageddon. The wind was roaring like a hungry lion. We had to yell to each other and it was still hard to hear. The tent twisting and flopping like a fish out of water. Our flashlights shining in the darkness.

The sand was blasting us with tremdous force filling our eyes, nose, ears, and lungs and coating our skin. The strength of the wind made it hard to walk.

When we arrived earlier, I was enchanted by the incredible colored sand. I considered putting some in a container to show everyone the magical sand. However, our night in the sand storm left us with enough orange sand in our shoes to last a year.

The recovery mission almost complete, Kathy decided to take one final dive into the once proud tent.

The shrill of Kathy’s laughter filled the air. She emerged looking absolutely giddy if not a bit worn out by the events of the evening. I gazed at her, questioning her current state of sanity.

She thrust her fist in the air as if to signify we had achieved victory out of near tragedy.

In her fist was a glorious sight…two pink bunny slippers.