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The crossing of the Dirty Devil River was easy. The water depth was barely over our hubs and
the river bottom was solid enough to support our heaviest vehicle. From that point on, the trail had “Relax”
written all over it.
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We were breathing
clean fresh air, listening to the sounds of undisturbed winds, and admiring the
scenic beauty of the canyons carved out of solid rock by millions of years of
raging waters. As we climbed the canyon
walls, we left the river a thousand feet below us.
After a few hours of riding high on the rim, we came to an
intersection. I began singing over the
radio, “You take the high road … and I’ll take the low road … and we’ll meet on
the other side.”
“Hey, Outlaw,” Blue Moon called. “You promised if we let you do that little
Splish Splash song in the video, you wouldn’t sing anymore.”
“I lied.”
We all chose the low road.
We figured there was a better chance of finding some old ruins of mining
claims if we stayed in the wash. We were
right. One particular location teased
our imaginations for several minutes.
Someone had drilled holes in a rock and set poles in it. There was even the remains of an old teepee
laying in the wash. I gave up trying to
figure it out.
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