Atop Kolob

We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. Tonight we neglected to invite those who always come and only invited those who are always otherwise occupied. We had a scare with Nick, as it seemed his girlfriend was working late and he might “stop by,” but in the end the long drive turned him away. Now, it was only the two of us first passing arid plains of rust colored dirt then turning north in LaVerkin and winding up past sandstone bluffs until we were high on Kolob Terrace Road surrounded by twisted Junipers and black basalt cliffs.

The cabin itself stood near a bluff which during the day overlooked Zion National Park. Cindy parked her 2021 black LandRover with leather heated seats and a fancy LED display. Top of the line and gifted from her rich lawyer daddy, or was it her mother and her entrepreneur self-absorbed boyfriend. Either way, Cindy came from a split family of wealth on both ends. I, on the other hand, had my 1997 Nissan Sentra. It was red with broken automatic seatbelts. 150,000 miles and the thing ran well except every bump and jostle lit the seatbelt warning light. Nick liked to joke that it altered us of nearby zombies. Thus, I named it Trooper after Iron Maiden’s iconic song and mascot.

The inside smelled musty, and after turning the power on outside in shin deep snow, we were left to a cold interior warmed enough to keep the pipes from bursting. All we had was a microwave, a refrigerator, and lights. The propane tank out back was half empty and wouldn’t be filled until April at the earliest, maybe even May. Although there was enough to boil some water, out of respect for others we simply brought frozen meals from our college dorms. Her brother deployed in the Marines was due to return and the family planned a big party and reserved the gas use for them.

Eager to show off the place she gave me a tour. Upstairs was the sleeping rooms. One separate room for the master-bed and bath while the main open room was lined with six beds tightly packed under the tapered A-frame roof. She patted one of them and nostalgically explained this was the one she always slept on. Our breath puffed in the air and I sat my bag down. I packed a change of clothes, canyoneering gear, and a wetsuit. I also had a sleeping bag, just in case.

Back downstairs again, there was the kitchen, a wide lounging area with a gas-fire hearth and a full bathroom with laundry machines. All looked well until she opened the bathroom door and a stench filled the house with the all too familiar scent of mouse scat and decay. Sure enough, a drowned rat floated in the toilet. Working at Southern Utah University’s astronomy tower, I was all too used to finding crushed, starved rodent corpses in the telescope storage crawlspace. After we disposed of the mouse outside, scrubbed the toilet of hair and mold, and swept up evidence of scat along the baseboards, we busted out the gourmet frozen meals.

We ate, chatted, and enjoyed each other’s company as always. I was a skinny fellow, hunched over with an Adam's apple the size of a boat’s prow. She was shorter with thick shoulders and freckles. She did aerial silks and yoga and just about anything physically obscure and had the power to prove it. We had a few classes together. Both physics majors, we slowly gravitated towards each other during study groups, outdoor club adventures, and mutual friends. She was a party girl and I was… well, I was an easy going but reclusive nerd. The typical physics pupil one would expect.

Soon our bellies were full and before conversation could lull she took me outside. We didn’t even hike 500 feet before we overlooked Zion in the blazing moonlight. Steep black cliffs jutted from crystalline, white hills sloped down towards that snow glazed kingdom of sandstone mazes and marvels. Her cabin was truly in a wondrous place. Prime real estate located in the private land between Zion and Kolob National Parks. Both named by settlers of the early Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Zion refers to the utopia people and nation they’ll build at the end of the world, while Kolob is supposedly the name of the dwelling place of God. Though past politicians tried to change the names, either out of feigned respect for the Native Americans or because of the religious references, the citizens of Utah stood for the names established by Nephi Johnson and the Mormon pioneers until the names cemented in 1952.

It was cold. Our breaths rose as thick vapors. Neither of us exerted ourselves, but my heart pounded in my chest. I made a lame joke about cliffs and hiding bodies at the base of it. Dark humor was my go-to and she embraced it with mischievous smiles. There was a storage shed tucked behind a thicket of Junipers which had shovels. If Nick came, we could still have our privacy. It’s funny, but the words lulled and a shiver from her shoulders down hinted for me to put an arm around her.

It was strange to realize how I got here, isolated in snowy upper Zion with a cute, active girl. Gradual as it was, we started with large study groups; however, over time those sessions dwindled in size until she and I were all that were left. We started meeting at each other’s apartments and cooking meals. Mine were cheap spaghetti dishes or my failed attempts at homemade pizza. Her’s were quinoa pastas and tofu salads. Soon we discovered an affinity for Avatar: The Last Airbender and binged the all three too-short seasons together and moved appropriately onto Stranger Things. Each episode that passed evolved from one sitting on the coach and the other on the floor to a cushion in between, then hips touching, and soon cuddling. Snails pace. The way I liked it.

Out here, cold, quiet, with silver moonlight touched upon freckled cheeks and reflected off her dark, smooth hair, it should've been easy to take that leap. It should’ve been easy to pull her in close, feel her warmth against me. Yet, as the cold settled in we moved back inside. Electricity crackled in the air but froze and lay with the trampled snow.

Inside we played a two player card game of Egyptian Rat Screw and she annihilated me. The dark night grew darker, and the full moon arched through the washed out night. Stars barely blinked in the sky between striated, thin clouds. I pointed out Mars through the window and explained that Saturn too will rise in an hour or two. No service, so I can’t check my app for live updates. Makes me wish I had looked up times before leaving Cedar City. Will we be up that late?

Soon we settle into our normal platonic cuddling on the couch. She opens George RR Martin and I’m digging into Brandon Sanderson’s latest Stormbringer Archives, 1000+ page epic. She asks how the book goes and I confess it’s slow. Amazing world building, but he takes his time. Though if all trends well, the third act will be mind blowing, a page turner, everything I hoped for after a 600 page slog.

We stopped. Our breaths hitched. Almost eleven. She looked at me and I at her. Then she pressed her face against mine. Our lips collided and soon the flare of my entire body threatened to consume. We wrapped our arms around each other and lay on the couch and kissed and kissed and made out. The minutes surged on and we played on each other’s lips. Hers were full and soft and despite the hint of microwave pasta on her breath I drank in the pleasure.

She smiled and asked if we wanted to head up to bed. I said no and her excited laugh filled the frigid air as we spent another hour or two simply making out and warming each other with our passion.

Eventually, our eyes grew heavy. The fact that I wanted to stay on the narrow couch instead of the wide comfort of the bed thrilled her. She laughed over and over about it as we brushed our teeth, hesitantly used the rat-killing toilet, and made our way upstairs in the cold air. The cabin was a little warmer, heated by our bodies and the ambient heat of the lights, but the fifty degree default is still brisk.

We lay in bed. Lights were off but the full moon shone through the skylights. Her eyes glinted, expectant in the faint glow. Thick comforters covered our shivering bodies and we pressed close in the cold. We wore long sleeves, socks, and beanies. My sleeping bag sat stuffed in its sack on the floor. But here we were. The darkness settled in. We didn't use the masterbed because she wanted her childhood bed. It was too short for my long body. I had to curl in tight, entangle my legs with hers otherwise my feet poked out from both the bed and sheets.

We kissed more. We were losing steam. Both fatigue, the musty air intermixed with dead rodents and processed, reheated food made my stomach tight, nauseous, and it hurt. I complained. She screwed her face in confusion. I didn't feel so good. So I said goodnight and we fell into a hesitant, fake sleep.

The moon still shone. The electricity hummed. Frost deposited on the A-frame roof, windows, and the black LandRover outside. Both of us lay awake. Waiting. Twisting. Occasionally kissing. Whispering for updates on stomach conditions. My legs cramped. If I stretched, my feet poked out from under the sheets. Cold. We shifted and slept diagonally. Big spoon, little spoon. The high mountain night convected too well. The deep freeze conducted even through the thick blankets and we grew chilled. I couldn’t sleep, couldn't do anything. Eventually, too cold, I pulled out the sleeping bag and slipped inside it. She grabbed a second comforter and cocooned herself within it.

The long night trudged on. Slightly warmer I endured restlessness and my feet slipping off the edge countless times. Again we turned, twisted, and bumped into each other. At one point I went down stairs sure I was going to vomit. Hearts beated, blood pulsed, surged, but we’re stagnant and barely warm. Here, millimeters from her lips, her body, yet I lay with a churning, aching stomach.

Soon a dim light filtered in and black turned to blue as oranges and yellows tinted the slanted room. She was up with baggy eyes. She slipped on a coat and a second pair of socks. Should’ve used some of the propane to at least keep the place above sixty. We went down stairs and hardly talked as we used a toaster to cook blueberry waffles. My head was foggy. My stomach still hurt. The sleep deprivation sent waves of nausea through my body. Any prospects of heading down into Zion, grabbing a permit, or simply playing around in Lamb’s Knoll were gone.

A text came in from Nick. He was sorry he couldn’t make it but if we were still planning on canyoneering or hiking anything he could meet us wherever. I didn’t respond. I wanted to go back to my apartment and sleep the day away. But to try and keep things better between us we decided to drive a little ways down and see Kolob Creek. This is a canyon I’ve always wanted to run. It’s no simple journey. Kolob Creek Canyon is a slot infamous for the death of two Boy Scout masters in 1993. They drowned during the creek's high flow rate, caught on-rope and in a waterfall's undertow. If timed correctly and done right, it can be a thrilling and amazing journey. I want to make it hard, someday, and backpack it, connecting all the way down to Zion’s Virgin River Narrows and exit the Temple of Sinawava. Someday, perhaps this summer, perhaps even with Cindy if I can get her canyoneering skills up to par.

I mentioned this to her and she was all too willing. But the entire time we stood on the banks of the iced over river, trickling cascades sliding over polished basalt, she wouldn’t hold my hand, she didn’t laugh or joke the same.

Fatigue got the better of me and we climbed up the slick banks and an icy cleft between some rocks and joined the main road. Without much word we climbed back into the car and sat for a moment. We hadn’t kissed since last night and I didn’t know what to say. I finally replied to Nick saying I didn’t feel well, perhaps it was the food.

We drove home along Kolob Terrace Road. An hour and a half drive dropped us from snowy flats punctured by red rock bluffs down to I-15 with gray limestone cliffs and sagebrush hills. Finally I said something and grabbed her hand. She didn’t force it away but nor did she intertwine our fingers. I mentioned that I had a good time, that I’m sorry for the illness. She nodded, said it happened, but didn’t say much afterwards. We filled the empty space with my obscure alternative art rock. The Dear Hunter’s new album was groovy, almost musical, but didn’t fit with our mood.

Again we climbed two steep hills and passed the entrance to Kolob National Park. It’s a sanctuary, a domain tucked between bland Juniper invaded hills. You can see the tops of the massive red cliffs peeking beyond. They called me. Yet, I've got the feeling, that like all my other love interests in the past, all the ones I could count on one hand 24 years into life, that she would be another who tired of my snail paced apprehension and wouldn’t wait around.

Indeed, we arrived in Cedar. The snow was mostly melted except for perpetually shaded patches and large, sooty plow drifts. She dropped me off at my apartment and I asked if she wanted to come in. I offered to make lunch. We could start another season of Stranger Things. It was Sunday morning, there was still plenty of time. But she said she was tired and also wanted to sleep. I invited her over one last time, weakly, but I already knew the answer.

I stood at my balcony and watched her nice black SUV cruise out of the cramped parking lot. Icy wind, the always present gusts of Cedar City, cut at the nape of my neck. I sighed and entered my apartment where my roommate Jordan watched sports. I told him a very condensed and half-truth story of the event. I didn’t mention it was only her and I. I didn’t mention the long night, or even my stomach ache and nausea. I only said that we simply chickened out of a cold hike down Mystery Canyon, sparing a miserable wet excursion in the depths of January.

Yet, the truth set in as I went to my small room and shut the door. My room was sparsely decorated. I only had a framed Zelda meme my sister made sat on my dresser. There was only one poster of Zion National Park’s Angel’s Landing. I lay on the bed, indeed tired and eager for sleep, but there was no sign of a stomach ache or nausea or any hints that the microwave dinner or the drowned rat affected my health the night before.