Canyon Tales
Sandthrax
by Hank Moon

The only visual record of our descent was contained within Shane’s disposable camera. As usual, he took it to a local grocery store for processing. Yep, this was waaay back in October of 2001 when digital cameras weighed a pound and the fallout from 911 was still burning bright in the nation’s consciousness. So much so that when the photo lab lady opened Shane’s DC and a fine powder poured out, she let out a yelp and dropped the thing. Anthrax scare was still in full swing, y’see?

Eventually, an employee who knew Shane spoke up and opined that the fine powder was probably good ol’ Utar sand and not anthrax. Whew! Tense times at the photolab. When Shane told me the story, the name just popped into view alongside the mind–image of the frightened lab tech discovering the deadly camera. Kinda like a cartoon. After shrieking “Sandthrax!” a few times, we all agreed it was the perfect name for that tricky little slot.

Note: The camera was disposable because Shane’s favorite 35mm Nikon had been recently trashed during a game of ‘camera toss’ in one of the Leprechaun slots (middle, I think).


Hank

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© 2007 Hank Moon