Get out of Dodge.

When that first hint of Spring hits, it's time to get away for a minute. We escaped at the first chance.

The Little Grand Canyon is still pretty damn grand.

Although it's probably a fairly gradual process in reality, it always seems like Spring arrives suddenly in Salt Lake. You step outside one morning and the air seems a bit warmer, the sun is shining a little brighter, and the grass seems like it got greener overnight. I love winter—Salt Lake's proximity to some of the finest snow and best terrain on Earth is the reason why me and so many others live in Utah—but after months cold weather and of being cooped up in Salt Lake, I'm ready to get the hell out for a weekend. Thankfully, the warm and sunny desert is only a few hours away. So as soon it stopped snowing for a weekend (not that I'm complaining about six straight weekends of powder riding), Lindsay and I packed up the car and hit the road.

After months of cold weather and being cooped up in Salt Lake, I'm ready to get the hell out for a weekend.

The first desert trip of the year is rarely an ambitious affair; basically it's an excuse to soak up some sun, do a little hiking, drink beers around a fire, and sleep outside. Typically I'll head somewhere relatively close, like the San Rafael Swell or Moab. This year we decided to head to the highly underrated Little Grand Canyon (aka The Wedge), which is a mere three hour drive from Salt Lake and always has plenty of awesome camp spots. Once we got there, we met up with our friends TJ and Rachael—who had left early to ride some mountain bike trails on the drive down—found a camp spot on the San Rafael River right around sunset, and wasted no time cracking open beers and passing the Maker's around the fire.

I was really excited to use my new tripod to get some long-exposures of the stars, but the full moon had other plans.

At least it was bright enough to pour drinks without a headlamp.

The next day, TJ and Rachael went out for some more mountain biking, while me and Lindsay headed up the wash back to the Wedge Overlook to meet up with some more friends who left Salt Lake that morning. When Bryan, McKayla, John, and Maru arrived, we climbed out to rock outcropping with an incredible view of the Little Grand and soaked up the vista for a while. After driving all morning, the new arrivals were anxious to start putting back some cold ones, so we headed back to camp. Once everyone got set up, we gathered beers and mixed drinks, plopped some chairs down in the river, and start takin' it real easy. At some point Bryan and I decided that attempting to construct a dam out of boulders seemed like a reasonable endeavor to undertake, and we started piling up all the biggest rocks we could find, confident that we were about to permanently alter the course of the river and natural history itself. Looking back, our goals may have been a little ambitious. We did, however, create some pretty cool rapids, and when we stepped back and looked upon them, we decided that this was satisfactory enough.

The gang taking it all in.

River rats.

We started piling up all the biggest rocks we could find, confident that we were about to permanently alter the course of the river and natural history itself.

By the time we were done with the river, everyone had worked up a nice little buzz and we were eager for an adventure. We waited until TJ and Rachael got back, then loaded up some backpacks with brewskies and picked out an enticing ridge to climb and enjoy the sunset from. Standing above the river with the rest of the crew, enjoying the beautiful view in the lingering light, I got the feeling that there was nowhere else I'd rather be at that time than drinking in the desert with this damn fine crew of people we had assembled. Still riding the high of our little adventure, we returned to camp ready to fill our bellies with whiskey and fire-roasted food. We drank and laughed for a few more hours before retiring to our tents, one-by-one (well, two-by-two technically, since it was all couples, but let's not split hairs). The next morning, Bryan and I made one last check on our dam, and were pleased to find that it had accumulated several pieces of driftwood throughout the night and actually increased in size. Perhaps we would still change the course of the river after all.

John, man of substance and style, is always color coordinated.

I got the feeling that there was nowhere else I'd rather be at that time than drinking in the desert with this damn fine crew of people we had assembled.