Stupid Staff Doesn't Part Anything

I'm a simple man, with simple needs. For example, when I find myself riding shotgun in a Jeep on the edge of a 200 foot cliff driving over the remainder of an avalanche field in June at 1:00 AM, I'm reminded of my basic need for not dying in a flaming ball of steel being crushed by my own body weight and the boulders that would inevitably follow into the black chasm of doom.

(For those of you playing the home version of Horrible Ways to Die here's your bonus question: the human body can withstand around 10 kilo newtons of force during a fall without completely shattering. How many KN of force would be exerted by a Jeep Rubicon over 200 feet rolling down a 80 degree slope? )

As it turns out, Squaw Peak Road, nestled above Utah Vally at between 6,500 and 8,300 feet still has substantial snowy patches in June. Who would've guessed, a high mountain road cut into the face of 11,000 foot peaks still has snow. And that therefore, one should not wear flip flops in case you get the Jeep stuck behind say a gigantic pack of snow and ice left by an avalanche on the edge of a big cliff in pitch black dark, where said snow pack is only really passable going one way? Who would assume such a thing when driving over the giant avalanche remains the first time? Huh?

OK, so I suppose I'm exaggerating a bit about how tough/dangerous it was. Yes, the cliff really was about that high based on my Google Earth satellite imagery estimates, but we had a fair amount of clearance between us and where the road stopped being road and started being a drop off. On our way up the road, we climbed the snow field with minimal problems. Once over it, we kept on going until the road narrowed, the mountain became north facing and there was only 2 to 3 feet of passable roadway with shear drop-offs. So back we went (in reverse for a while, because, when I say big cliffs, I mean really big cliffs.)

What really made it exciting was when we got back to the avalanche field we hopped earlier, we discovered that it wasn't exactly shaped in a way that made it easy to cross back over. We decided that despite having the right drive systems, we were going to need to use a wench to help pull the Jeep up and keep if from falling off the mountain. I climbed up on top of the snow in my hobbit footed flip flops to find a suitable tree. And that's where I found my souvenir -- an awesome quarterstaff like stick that the avalanche had pulled down from the trees above.

Thinking quickly I used the staff to try and part the snow field in a Mosaic fashion that hasn't been seen in thousands of years.

Then we hauled the Jeep over using the wench because apparently I was being smitten for blasphemy as evidenced by the fact that the snow didn't part at all. What good is a quarterstaff if it doesn't part stuff? That thing couldn't part the hair on Conan O'Brian's toupee.

Stupid staff.