It was a trip of Mormon proportions

It's 5am and I'm waiting on my porch for Blicker to pick me up. I'm running on one hour of sleep and still drunk. It's time to ride to the airport and make our way to Salt Lake City.

Boarder crossing always go smooth when the driver is a highschool teacher -- little do they know he's the dirtiest-shit-talking-highschool teacher ever to have lived. At least this time The Man didn't think I was in a motorcycle gang, no thanks to the other Robin Avery who probably is! I'm not sure I could have handled that in my zombie-drunken state.

You know someone's an experienced dirtbag when they bring their thermarest to the airport. That was me at 10am at Seatac airport. Snoozing the morning away.

We pick up the rental car in SLC and the shit talking between Stolz and Blicker begins. I will continue to hear this hilarious discourse for the next nine days. There are only two rules: mothers and girlfriends are off limits. Other than that, everything is fair game. By the end of the nine days I spent with these two crazies, every form of both witty and dirty repartee was soon exhausted.

Moab highlines, Indian Creek splitter cracks, cheap beer, missing skin, and burritos were had by all.

Fruit Bowl Highline: helmet cam footage (slackline) from Robin Avery on Vimeo.