Sometimes we get lucky. Today, at our first walk-around of private property, we got very lucky. Our journey today takes us southeast from Deer Creek trailhead where we had ended our 10-mile hike three days prior. Thirty miles of moseying through sandstone washes and down one spectacular switchback descent, we head north into Capital Reef National Park. Paralleling our drive to the east is a colossal uplifted rift. The upper 200 feet of the rift is sheer sandstone, and I know that may be a problem for us down the road.
Watching the GPS unit and map to get an idea of where the upcoming private land lie in our path, I also watched the rift float by. Rarely did I see a place where the top of the rift could be accessed from below, which is exactly what we must do when we come to the private land.
Did I say we sometimes get lucky. Of course I did! At our stopping point, looking along the rift I noticed a long sandy bank reach the entire distance to the top of the rift. Nowhere for miles in either direction was another access point tothe top, and this sandy bank was positioned nearly exactly along the GPS route programmed into my GPS. Coincidence, heavenly intervention, magic, voodoo -- or luck?
At the top of the rift, which was about a mile away from where we began our hike, stood a figure. At first glance it looked human, but a second or longer glance told us it was too fat to be human. We placed bets on what it was, because we were going to find out. Was it a pinion pine, juniper or Dairy Queen?
I guessed juniper, which was correct, but I won nothing other than gold stars and free water.
We walked along the top of the rift for the sheer fun of it before spying a road to the east, which is where we had directed our support drivers to intercept us, if possible. One of the fun things about using GPS technology is the guesswork required to determine whether a road is truly a place on the earth or a long forgotten trail that has somehow made it into the Global Information System software, which we use to make our maps.
In this case our support drivers intercepted us on the road. But they had an adventure getting to us thanks to a wet and sandy streambed. But, as luck would have it, they picked us up where we had hoped.

We nearly lost Marlene, or so we thought, and I nearly panicked! Marlene is our techie who decided to stay with us a day longer so she could see Capital Reef before heading back to Phoenix, Arizona, her home. That meant I got her for more map work, which we needed direly, and to program our GPS units.
Hours after her expected arrival, and minutes after we had made calls to track her down, she pulled into camp with a story that not many geographically wise people would admit. She got lost. Furthermore, before she realized she was lost she had pulled into Deer Creek campsite, thinking it was to be the night's campsite. She set up her tent and took a nap, waiting for us to arrive.
But she pulled it all together and made it eventually to the right camp. We made maps, we programmed GPS, we are set.

"Why in the world would you even want to walk all the way across the country on public lands?" said a lady at tonight's program. The entire crew was lined up on a stage in front of 18 Capitol Reef campground campers who had come to see our program. One by one we introduced ourselves and talked about our Journey and the hopes we have for our public lands, including how we hope that our public lands can be protected for future generations, which is partly how we answered the lady's question.
The program went on and on, until finally we had to put people to bed, in particular ourselves. But we walked away with a lot to think about, from the topics shared by the audience: "It would be nice if there were a trail built where you traveled across public lands." "I'd rather our public lands are not exposed to millions of people. The fewer people, the better." "Will there be a book or a follow-up to your Journey? I'd like to know more?"