The Black Hole Experience Part Two: The Wet Suit Dabacle of 2013

Where did I leave off? Oh yeah. The drama.

So over Memorial Day weekend, it was also my little brother's graduation from high school. I decided to make the long weekend even longer and took the Thursday and Friday before the weekend off of work so I could spend that time with my family down in Springville. This meant that I was going to be meeting up with Alex and his Provo friends rather than just driving down from Salt Lake with him and anyone else up from that way. This also meant it was up to me to procure a wetsuit on my own.

Yikes.

Alex let me know I could get one at the BYU Outdoor Recreation Center (I don't think that's even the right name...oh well. Go UTES!), but that I should wait until later in the day on Saturday to get it so I wouldn't have to stress about returning it early on Tuesday.

I had a bunch of errands to run in Provo that morning, so my little brother and I went out to lunch and enjoyed shooting movie quotes back and forth at eachother as we scoured the city. When it finally came time to pick up my wetsuit, it was around 2 in the afternoon. The sales girl who was available asked me what I needed and headed over to a seeminly empty rack where the wetsuits (I'm guessing) usually hung.

Girl: Oh...it looks like we are low on suits.

Me: That's okay, I only need one.

Girl: Looks like we only have women's mediums and smalls left.

Me thinking: I've lost weight in the past year. I've been buying a lot more mediums. It might be kind of short on me, but I'm sure it will fit everywhere else, and they look stretchy.

Me: A medium might work

The girl took a medium suit off the rack and held it up to me--the edges of the suit were 2 inches in on my torso on both sides.

Me thinking: Wow. That's a confidence builder. Were these made for girls with eating disorders? Nope. I'm just fat big boned. But it will probably stretch. I'll be fine. 

Girl: Yeah, that will probably fit!

Me: Could I try it on just to make sure?

Girl: Sure, just down that hall.

I handed my purse to my little brother (I know he loves it when I do this. Every time I come back from making him hold my purse he's standing awkwardly, holding it in front of him as if he might catch some disease by being seen holding a women's purse. Cooties are real people. And apparently can even be caught by interactions between siblings. Watch out.) and headed to the provided bathroom. Side not: you could tell that the building was owned by BYU because the bathroom looked exactly like every bathroom you go into owned by the church anywhere. It even smelled the same. Weird. I locked myself in a stall, took off my shoes and stuck my feet into the leg holes.

I could barely even pull the suit up over my calves.

All of the "it will stretch!" pep talks I had given myself minutes earlier were put to shame. These things have zero stretch. Which I guess makes sense for their purpose, but is not so great on the whole self image thing. I peeled the sandy suit off and made my walk of shame back into the main room trying not to feel like a walking, breathing, balloon. Forrest was standing awkwardly (as per usual) and the girl was nowhere to be found. I hung the suit back up next to its skinny friends and wandered into the next room with the cash register. The girl was helping out another employee (very apparently his first day on the job) ring someone up and none of the employees were wearing name tags or anything so I couldn't tell who else in the place might be able to help me and who just looked legit because they were use to renting things like kayaks, climbing shoes, and canoes.

We waited a painfully long time for the transaction at the front to be completed and finally the girl was available for me to ask a very improtant question.

Girl: Did it not fit?

Me: No...it was pretty small. One size up and it might have fit.

Girl: Dang, that's too bad.

Me: Do you know of anywhere else locally I could rent a suit?

Girl:.....(long pause)....No, I don't really know of one. Sorry!

And off she went to help the next poor sop in line.

I walked out of the store completely defeated. The trip was the next day. The water we were going to be swimming through was suppose to be fridged. It came all came down to one thing:

No Wetsuit = No Canyoneering for Chelsea

I texted Alex asking if he had gotten his suit yet and if he could grab one for me up in SLC, but he had gotten his the day earlier since they weren't open on the weekends. He very graciously offered his to me, as he "had always wanted to try doing the canyon without one" (macho-man-chivalry-pride at it's finest). I was about to accept his offer just so I could join in on the trip when Forrest remembered a suba shop in downtown Springville (Most random thing ever? Yes.) that might have some to rent. Good old Suba Ted's. I gave them a call and low and behold they had some in stock!! We finished up with the rest of our errands and headed home with a short stop by Suba Ted's.

We parked at the sketchy looking laundry mat and walked into the shop where we were accosted by a very fishy, oceany, smell. Are they trying to pretend you can actually smell the ocean in the middle of Utah? Because that just ain't gonna happen. Anyways, I asked the man behind the counter if I could rent on of their wetsuits. He answered with a question that I knew was a bad sign as soon as it left his mouth:

(It's called Suba Ted's, therefore I'm going to assume his name was Ted.)

Ted: What are you going to use it for?

Me thinking: I can't flat out say canyoneering. I know that's why he's asking. But I can't lie and say I'm scuba diving. We live in UTAH for goodness sakes, what else but canyon swimming do people even use wetsuits for?

Me: We are going to a canyon that is going to have water in it that's cold.

Ted: *shaking his head and interrupting me before I could even get my full sentence out* Nope, I can't help you. You know that really tears up the suits right? It's just so bad for them.

Me: Oh. Okay. Well I guess you can't help me then.

Ted: Well if you want I could sell you a suit?

Me: How much would that be?

Ted: I have some that are around $100...

Me: No, I can't afford that right now.

Ted: *as I am walking out the door* Well I'm sorry about that--

Me: *No response--Cue closing of the door*

Dear Suba Ted's, how in the WORLD do you get enough business to keep running when you don't even rent your suits out to people wanting to go down a canyon? Do you really get that many customers who take the suits suba diving? I would really like to be proven wrong on this point, because it would make for an awesome trip, but the last time I checked there are no reefs or anything of the type to be seen in the state of Utah. Unless someone is really dying to see the garbage eating fish at the bottom of Utah lake. So thank you for nothing you useless suba store.

At this point I was rather upset and feeling drained from a day of ups and downs "yes I'm going on the trip, no I'm not, yes I am, no I'm not". I contacted Alex letting him know that Ted's was a no-go and he once again suggested I take his suit. I asked "are you sure?" at least fifty times and finally accepted his offer. I really wanted to go on this trip guys. 

The end.





Haha just kidding. The wetsuit debacle of 2013 wasn't over yet.

I was just getting out of Walmart after buying a new (knockoff) camelback and snacks when Alex called me with some smart reasoning as to why I couldn't use his suit. It went something like this:

Alex: So...I don't think you'll be able to use my suit...

Me: Why?

Alex: Well, me and my roommate were talking about it and...well...girls and guys...they have different anatomy...and the suit is already pretty tight over my chest and well...

Me: ...it won't really fit me? (helping him out of his struggle to not make this an awkward conversation which was really just making it even more awkward for himself and more hilarious for me)

Alex: Yeah. Exactly. I'm so sorry! Do you think you could find one anywhere else?

I had actually already texted a friend from high school who had a boat and I thought might have some wet suits to see if I could maybe borrow one, but I hadn't heard back from him. He was my last hold out.

Me: My friend might have one I can borrow, but I haven't heard back from him yet...

Alex: Okay, just let me know. Otherwise I guess you could do it without one...

Me: I'm not sure if I'm hardcore enough for that. I probably just wouldn't be able to come.

And that was when I really thought I wasn't going to be able to go after all the stress, planning, question asking, purchasing, and pumping up of my excitement. Imagonna be honest: I was pretty bummed. I came back home, didn't bother doing any packing, and kinda moped around the house wishing there was another way.

Then came the text from the heavens (aka my high school friend Steve):

His parents had a wetsuit.
They didn't mind if I borrowed it.

YES!

I drove over to their house at 10:30 that night, tried on one suit that was once again way too small (at least people are underestimating my size, right?), and finally settled for one that was a bit too big and shorts instead of full length, but would be good enough.

I called Alex to let him know the drama was finally over and that yes, I was coming--he was pretty relived as he felt it was his fault I didn't get one at the first place because he told me to go later in the day. I assured him it wasn't his fault and that after a crazy day, it was all working out.

I frantically started packing my stuff (trying my hardest not to be a cronic overpacker...because I am) and went to bed with a smile on my face.

I was going canyoneering.

...to be continued. 

C.R.M.
xoxo

The Black Hole Experience (Part One)

Hello my frineds!

I have been meaning to start getting these posts up for a week now and just haven't made the time.

Now I'm making the time. (duh)

So for Memorial Day weekend, my friend Alex invited me to go canyoneering with him and some friends down in Moab. My first thoughts when he invited me to come were:

What the heck is canyoneering?
I've only been hiking once this summer let alone something intense sounding like canyoneering.
I have to get a wetsuit?
I'm in way over my head. 
I will probably die in the canyon and my mom will be right. I should have stayed inside for the rest of my life, never facing the dangerous outdoors. 
Sleeping under the stars? 
I'm pretty sure I will be eaten to death by bugs before I even have the chance to die in the canyon. 
We have to carry in all of our own water? 
Now add dehydration to the list of ways I will die on this trip. 
 
But what actually came out of my mouth (because I'm a tough, macho, "I won't let anyone know I'm afraid because then I'm a silly girly girl who can't be taken seriously" type of person) was:

"Sure! Sounds like fun!"

My little brother Forrest thought the same thing (What the heck is canyoneering?) when I was talking about it and unbeknownst to me, looked it up. Being the concerned brother he was, he tried to talk me out of doing this dangerous activity that could very well end in an untimely death. I asked him why he was so concerned about me going and he explained what he thought canyoneering was. The definition that he had pulled up on his phone said something like: "Letting oneself be taken by the current of a river down a canyon with no rafts or boats."

Ha!

I had a good laugh and thankfully was able to let him know that was NOT what I would be participating in the coming Monday. What we would really be doing was the following:

The sport of exploring canyons (as by climbing, rappelling, swimming, or rafting) 

A veiw of the Black Hole canyon (No this isn't my picture and no this doesn't do it justice. Well, besides the color of the water. That is pretty accurate. Lol)

Must less scary (I think...)

It was going to be a short trip (drive down Sunday afternoon, camp, sleep, hike, drive home Monday afternoon) and was promised to be a beginners climb that a newbie to all things outdoors (like myself) would be able to handle. I was pumped. I was going to be able to try something new and add another item to my Summer Adventures list.

After asking Alex about a bazillion questions ranging from "where should I meet you guys" to "should I bring a blanket?" I was feeling ready to go and uber excited.

Then the drama began.

to be continued...

xoxo
C.R.M.

Summer Bucket List

A goal I made for myself last summer was to try as many new things as possible within the 3 months of freedom from homework and the grind of fitting in school, work and some semblance of a social life. Some first times from last summer included:

• riding a scooter 
• The motorized kind one step down from a motorcycle, not the razor kind freshman like to use as their main source of transportation on campus. The best part of this was that it was on the way to watch listen to a concert from a hill with a bunch of other hippies students. Very hipster. 
• visiting Red Butte Gardens 
• What a beautiful place. I would recommend it to anyone who is in the SLC area and hasn't been. Especially if you are a U student because you get in for freeeeeee!!! (name that movie)
• trying sushi for the first time
•  My friend and I went to a place in downtown Salt Lake where all the sushi is 1/2 off after 11 (happy hour). I had some sort of regular raw fish kind and the vegas roll (sushi that has been deep fried--the Americanized dessert-like kind). Guess which one was my favorite.
• going fishing 
• I'm proud to say that on one of our trips I caught the biggest fish of the group-let's hear it for the newbie!
• gutting a fish 
• I was surprisingly relatively undisgusted by this chore. I think it's mostly because fish are slimy and gross and I didn't feel bad cutting them in half. Now tell me to do the same thing to a quail or a bunny and I might just pass out. Or start to cry. Or both.
• filleting a fish 
• This came right after the gutting and was a lot less gross, but also a lot more difficult. I'm pretty sure most of the pieces I did were just that-in pieces. Like 50 of them.
• getting my purse stolen
• Okay, so this wasn't a first I was planning on experiencing, but has now instilled in me moments of terror every time I leave a location. I check about twenty or a hundred times just to make sure I have everything I came with. And yet I still leave things places. I believe every item or importance should come with a clicker like cars do so I can push a button and have them beep at me. Speaking of which I could use this for the before-mentioned car clicker on my keys sometimes. 

As Summer 2013 begins I've decided it's time for a new list of new things to try an accomplish is long past due (I mean, it's already been what, two weeks?)

• go climbing
• This was partially accomplished this Tuesday on a crazy free-climbing adventure I went on...more on that later. 
• skydiving 
• This was on last summers list and will probably once again not get accomplished, but one can dream, right? 
• camping
• This will probably be accomplished next weekend if I get up the gumption to actually join in on the Moab trip...
• discover downtown
• It's been a goal ever since I moved to SLC to take a Saturday and just walk around downtown Salt Lake. Go into all the little shops, eat somewhere new, get an awful farmers tan, you know, the works. 
• go to the farmers market
• I really should have gone before now...
• try out the southbound Frontrunner
• Having a car makes life so much easier, but the price of gas makes me want to curl up in a little ball and never leave the apartment. So I really might as well try this newfangled transportation option and see what all the hype is about.
• enter a freelace design competition
• I need to keep up my designing skills somehow this summer and why not have the chance to make boucoo bucks in the process??
• go to one of the Twilight Concert Series shows
• I still wish I would have gone and seen Iron and Wine when they came last year, but as usual, something came up. Therefore I would like to try out a new one this year. And yes I will be wearing a thrifted dress, my hair will have some resemblance to dreads and I will probably wear loafers. If you're gonna try and be hipster, you might as well go all the way. Oh, I will also bring a mason jar full of herbal tea to sip on during the show. 
• go to a fire party and play my guitar
• I'm still working on overcoming the fear of playing my guitar in front of others. Singing? Nobigdeal. Playing? Terror. But I have this romanticized picture of my playing and laughing and singing with other laughing, singing people all around a fire on a beach during the summer. Since I live in Utah and that is probably not going to change anytime soon, delete the beach part and that is the picture of a perfect summer night in my  head.

Well there are some of my goals for the summer--you guys have any crazy fun adventure suggestions I should add to the list?

C.R.M.
xoxo

p.s. To stick with the random cat theme (What can I say, I can't help it when I search for "bucket" online and get one with a cat. I have to use it.) here is a cat gif to make your day a little brighter :)

I Guess I'm Deprived

Some of my coworkers are planning a camping trip to Moab over Memorial Day at the end of the month and have invited me to come along. At first thought it sounded like a blast: a chance to go to Arches again, get some sun, try not to come back looking like a lobster (you can get really sick of people trying to spread butter on you and crack open your shell), and jamming out to music road trip style. You know, the perfect summer vacation weekend trip. As I was contemplating again this morning the pros and cons of joining the trip, I realized something rather surprising:

I have only been "real" camping a handful of times and only twice that I can remember where it wasn't something church related where the leaders of my church group planned everything for us and supplied the important things like tents and marshmallows.

My family has never been the camping type or to be completely honest, the "let's-go-outside-in-the-mountains-and-have-family-bonding-experiences" type. For recreation we would rather go play a game of three on three basketball at the church (where my dad just stuffs everyone and we foul uncontrollably) or even better, watch BYU basketball on TV and dream about the Jimmer glory days.

We see hiking the "Y" in Provo as a challenge.

Going on a "bike ride" = a couple turns around the cul-de-sac.

Climbing is only mentioned when stairs are involved.

So what are the two camping experiences my family has had you might ask? Well, let me 'splain.

Trip One:

I honestly don't remember much of this experience. I was only 6 or 7 at the time, it was a ward camp-out, we probably ate some smores, pretty sure my mom didn't sleep at all, and I recall a lot of snoring. Not sure if the snoring was from my father or other ward members. Possibly both.

We also have some excellent home video footage of all of us wide awake in our tent at 11pm (my little brother and I can hardly hold in our excitement at the chance to sleep on cots, in a tent, in the mountains, which of course equals two wired children not even close to falling asleep), 1am (my little brother is asleep, I'm getting there and my mom has that "we are never doing this again" look in her eye and some awesome 80's inspired glasses adorning the look), and then somewhere around 3am (mom and dad are still awake, but to their relief I am sure, the kidos have drifted off to dreamland and my dad blinds my mom with the video camera light which results in much squinting and whispered complaints).

Trip Two:

I guess my mom and dad either had some sort of out of body experience that made them forget how horrible the first camping experience was, or decided to give camping the benefit of the doubt and accept it's request of a second date--"everyone deserves a second chance"--because when ward camp-out time rolled around, we were packing our sleeping bags. I had my baby bags full of enough toys to entertain myself for months, let alone two days and one night, my childhood innocence having masked just how uncomfortable those cots really were. 

I'm sure the majority of the first day went much like the year before: exploring, dinner, smores, campfire, bugs, bear sightings (I wish) and restless excitement when bedtime rolled around. There was also probably some snoring and blinding from the video camera lazer light.

But there was one difference: the rain.

And I'm not talking a soft sprinkling, I'm talking a wash-away-your-cat-down-the-gutter type of downpour. At one time in the past (stone age maybe?) our tent had been waterproofed, but needless to say any preemptive actions had long ago been washed away (pun intended). We didn't really understand just how bad the situation was until pools of rainwater started forming on top of our tent...and the dripping began. Then the rain came down and the floods came up and the bottom of our tent was starting to dampen our backsides. This was not good. In my 6 or 7 year old memories I imagine it looking something like this:

I believe (surprisingly enough) that I was asleep for most of the decision making period of what to do with a tent full of rainwater at 4 in the morning, but I remember being rudely awakened, told to grab whatever I didn't want to get wet, being wrapped in a blanket or sleeping bag and being carried to our minivan my dad had pulled up and parked (probably illegally) close to the campsite. My parents ran back and forth from the tent grabbing the essentials as if the rain was acid and anything left behind would be dust before we could retrieve it in the morning.
We waved goodbye to our tents, gunned the engine, and headed home in the downpour. I like to think that the other ward members woke up the next morning in their dry little tents and came out to see our abandoned campsite and panicked, thinking it must have been a bear attack that took us away. I mean, nothing else would make you leave a perfectly good campsite in the middle of the night, and abandon your tents right?

I guess my parents learned their lesson the second time because we have not joined in on a full fledged camping trip in the mountains ever since (at least that I can remember...my mom will probably remind me of some later that have been erased from my remembrance). I feel as if I can rightly blame my parents for my lack of interest and participation in anything that has to do with sleeping on the ground.

I guess you could call me deprived. But maybe I'm just lucky.


C.R.M.
xoxo