Hells Canyon
The road to Hells Canyon twisted and turned like it had lost its mind, like if you looked at the word HELL on a head full of acid and the letters were squirming around like worms on a hot skillet. The road kept doubling back on itself, second guessing itself at every bend like it forgot where it was going.
The further we got, the more “gee, i really hope nothing goes wrong here” thoughts i had as there was no cell service and we came across but one other car on the pot-hole lined road. No surprise, because not many are tough enough and not scared as much as Nicole and I, because the road we were on led to HELLS CANYON, yep you heard that right,
HELL
aych-E-double hockey sticks
We were two baddies up to no good with a cooler full of spaghetti ingredients and a hunger for Italian. We found a quiet spot nestled in patch of lumbering fir and Nicole cooked dinner.
After slurping up some noodes , we hurried across the road to the viewpoint chasing the last bit of daylight.
