I should have thrown Moab or Sedona into the van with the sleeping bags and blankets. But I didn't, because I didn't know we were going to Moab. We pack the car, then decide which way to head and what to do when we get there. And we didn't head for Moab until we'd finished Dinosaur National Monument. We've been waiting for them to reopen the quarry so we could take the little guys.
Just before we reached Moab, I saw what I must've been remembering when I named the quilt. Blue hills in the distance....yellowish grass and rocks...red rocks in the distance.... I took a picture, but the colors didn't come out right at all. But trust me -- they're there!
I seem to be raising a tribe of mountain goats!
We slept in our comfy old sleeping bags and did our favorite things. What is it that makes me decide it's a good idea to clamber three miles across slickrock and sand to see dinosaur tracks -- which turned out to be underwater because the reservoir was full? And that was after I managed to twist my knee on our very first hike. Have I mentioned that I'm not a very good camper?