Moab
Randy and I were room mates for quite awhile on North Leroux Street in Flagstaff. Our Life Paths crossed for the first time in 1981 out at the South Rim of Grand Canyon and we went on to stuff together for more than a couple of decades thereafter.
Randy was a dreamer and he liked to dream big and wild. One morning in early '82 we were eating a typical greasy spoon breakfast at Choi's in downtown Flagstaff. Randy had been chattering incessantly about how he wanted to build a Little Dory. That morning he finally put pencil to table napkin and drew the "blueprint" for his Little Dory. He wanted me to help him find a place to build it. As chance would have it I had become pals with a guy who owned a large workshop out by Lake Mary. The owner and Randy made a deal and Randy moved in to begin boat building. Man, those two couldn't have been farther apart. The owner was a devout Man of The Bible who never had a drink. And, well, Randy was just the opposite. But somehow the sketchy relationship held together and Randy put together a fabulous innovative boat he called the Little Dory.
The drafty, old workshop Randy used had a dirt floor and was more of a ramshackle barn than a workshop. In addition to being a place to build a boat, it was also a perfect place for Randy's many Friends to hang out and drink beer, which we did almost every day and night.
Finally, Randy finished his prototype Little Dory in January of '83. There was lots of boisterous cheering and raising of beer toasts out there in the cold, COLD climes of Lake Mary. Of course, within minutes someone yelled, "We've got to get this in the water right NOW!" More wild cheering arose. Pretty soon the ragtag assortment of dirt bag buddies talked themselves into giving the Little Dory a right and proper christening in the Colorado River at Moab. Thus the Adventure began.
The boat was loaded onto a small trailer and hitched to an old Road Roach four door Buick of dubious vintage. Randy and his dirt bag buddies all piled into the Buick late one January afternoon and headed for Moab.
When we arrived in Moab it was pitch black dark as only dark can be in the middle of winter. Back then, Moab was nothing and there weren't even any street lights. So it was DARK! There was only one bar in Moab and, of course, that was our first stop. We could hardly wait to swarm into that bar and brag about Randy's Little Dory and how we were a goin' boatin' tomorrow on The Colorado River. The men and boys in that bar were oddly silent and just kind of stared at us. Nobody said much of anything, of course, except us. We were SO full of ourselves and puffed up our past, present and future adventures until we were practically gas bags ready to float away in the night.
Finally, we closed down the bar and went to sleep on somebody's floor. OH! How excited we were to head to The Colorado River the next morning. And, OH! what a shock we had when we arrived at the river. It was frozen solid. Seriously solid. With BIG THICK ice sheets all broken into giant slabs tossed around like some weird junk yard. Tiny little patches of water appeared between each of the ice jams and it was easily one of THE bleakest looking "rivers" I'd seen since my childhood days on Indiana's Wildcat Creek. (Ice jams in my childhood were local tourist attractions and people would gather to gawk at them.)
Well, we all stood there with our gas bags of blowhard bravado thoroughly deflated. We quickly realized why no one at the bar said anything to us because they KNEW exactly what we would see the following morning. I always wondered why the guys in that bar didn't break out in hysterical laughter but that will remain forever one of The Mysteries of Life.
It seemed like a long time before anybody said anything. We just stood there and stared...somewhat transfixed by the weirdness of all that ice. Finally, one of the brighter bulbs in our dusty chandelier yelled out, "Let's Go to the San Juan!" Well, to all of us that seemed like downright genius.
So we piled back into the Buick and beat feet out of Moab just about as fast as we had arrived the previous night. And, no, we didn't stop back into the bar...or anywhere else, for that matter. We wanted OUT of Moab as fast as we could go. We were SO embarrassed by our idiocy.
For whatever reason, the San Juan wasn't frozen over like the Colorado. It had rims of ice on both banks but the channel was open and clear. Randy and his buddied rigged the Little Dory and took off with many a throaty cheer. I ran their shuttle and picked them up at Mexican Hat. The Little Dory performed far beyond even Randy's wild dreams.
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| Here's the only photo I could find of a Little Dory. Photo by David Ehmke in June 1983. |
In fact, Randy took it on my Colorado River Trip in June 1983 when we passed through Crystal Rapid at the peak flow of 100,000 cfs. Randy went on to build 19 more of those boats and it was one of his major Life Accomplishments.
Moab has grown way, WAY up and it now a Fun Hog Destination. Tsunamis of Fun Seekers crash the Moab shore with Jeeps, bikes, boots and backpacks to "conquer" the wilderness. At certain times of the year, Moab and vicinity are practically gridlocked with thousands of Fun Hogs breathlessly panting to get to their next Instagrammie Selfie Scene. Gone are the Good Ol' Daze when Moab was a sleepy backwater in the middle of nowhere.
We've been through Moab many, many times since that crazy January trip. It's impossible for me to get anywhere NEAR Moab without thinking of that time when we thought we could baptize a boat in the frozen waters of The Colorado River.
This is Randy Fabres (middle) in "Story Mode". Whenever Randy decided to tell "The Moab Story" this is how he would look. Who knows? Maybe he's telling "The Moab Story" to my Dad (left) on The Colorado River during our 1983 high water trip.
We've been through Moab many, many times since that crazy January trip. It's impossible for me to get anywhere NEAR Moab without thinking of that time when we thought we could baptize a boat in the frozen waters of The Colorado River.
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