In the morning, we are woken up by elk who are kind enough to use their bugles as an alarm clock. A very early alarm clock.
We wake up Azie and Emie, who aren’t morning risers, pack up the tent and head back on the road. [Too early] We swim in the boiling river and stop at a few scenic lookouts.
We get in at night, again, and enjoy the comfort of a bed this time around. Our alarm clock this morning is a great horned owl, perched outside the bedroom window. My aunt and uncle make us breakfast, we visit for a few hours, and then continue on our adventure.
As we head through Salt Lake City to visit my grandmother, I check my voicemail. Apparently, I have a federal arrest warrant out for me. I inform Brittany and figure I’ll deal with it when we get back home next week. She strongly insists I pull over so she can take over driving while I figure out why I’m wanted by the law. It turns out, if you get a ticket in a National Park and your payment doesn’t go through, the federal government gets a little grouchy and sends the Marshalls after you. So, after dozens of phone calls explaining how I didn’t realize my payment didn’t go through and that I am not fleeing the country, merely on a family road trip, I finally figure out how to make a payment over the phone. They inform me it could take a few days to process. So, it looks like I get to ride shotgun for a few days. I can’t tell if Brittany is more annoyed about the warrant or having to be the driver. Probably a tie.
We arrive just outside of Zion. We set up camp and hunker down for the night. Brittany provides the alarm clock, screaming as she sees the silhouette of a fairly large spider crawling on the outside of our tent.
We catch the park shuttle and then start hiking up the Narrows, taking some group photos along the trek.
I had shot an infrared photo of the Court of the Patriarchs in infrared when I was here years ago. This time around, I want to capture the stars over the misty river.
I’m not sure if one side of the river will be better than the other, so I wade across it without my gear and find my spot. I go back, grab camera gear, and carefully cross this time to avoid ruining my camera and getting “that look” from Brittany. I take my shot, and head back to the car. While crossing, I slip and make a split second decision to choose my gear over my sandal. When I reach the car, sans sandal, a police officer is waiting for me.
He returns to my driver’s side door, hand on pistol, hands me my driver’s license and wishes me a good night. No arrest. No shooting. I’m a free man.