Posted: July 1, 2012
The July/August 2012 edition of Escapees Magazine is featuring our story “RVing by Land and Sea.” This is the first in a two part series comparing the RVing and cruising lifestyles. The two lifestyles are very similar in a few ways, but differ dramatically in several key areas.
Window Rock City Park.
The Window.
The Navajo Tribal Band practices
for Oklahoma's Red Earth festival.
Navajo Code Talker.
Scenic Indian Route 12.
Two toned rock formations.
A homeowner with a flair for color.
The land was painted pink too!
Looking down Canyon del Muerto.
Sheer cliffs and lush valleys.
"Where two fell off."
Massacre Cave.
The little cave to the left.
There's a structure inside!
The immensity is hard to capture.
Tim & Mary Lynn look across at Mummy Cave.
Mummy Cave housed a small community
in the shadows.
The structure inside Mummy Cave.
The confluence of Canyon del Muerto
and Black Rock Canyon.
Antelope House is tucked into the
bottom of this massive cliff.
Close-up of Antelope House ruins.
Beginning our descent
into Canyon de Chelly.
Looking down on the lush valley floor.
Crazy swirling rock patterns.
The swirls dwarf the trees in the middle of the pattern.
We take a breather from hiking.
The bottom of the canyon is flat and wide.
White House ruin has two levels:
a ground-level building & a cave dwelling above.
No architect today could design a
more dramatic front entrance!
The drippy stripes down the walls
fascinated us.
Flower or origamy?
Rock Art: Roadrunner.
Rock Art: Scorpion.
A Navajo hogan backed by dramatic cliff walls.
Canyon de Chelly National Park, Arizona
Early June, 2012 -- Leaving the Petrified Forest, we decided to head north by
Indian Route 12 which, to our surprise, was noted on our tourist map as a
scenic route. As one-time Arizona residents we had no idea there was a
scenic road through the Navajo Nation way over in the northeastern corner of
the state. We also wanted to see Window Rock, which lies on that road. This
town is the Navajo tribal headquarters, and it always turns up in the Phoenix
TV weather forecasts with very cool temps.
We arrived on a warm day, however, and
were immediately drawn to the city park in
front of the big window in the rock.
The tribal band was practicing in
the park, and we watched and
listened for a while. Chatting with
the band leader during a break,
we found out the band was
headed to Oklahoma City in a
few days for the big Red Earth
arts festival there. Apparently
this is one of the largest
gatherings of Indian artists and
performers in the country, and
the group was very excited.
The park also features a large
sculpture of a WWII "code talker" in action on his radio. A nearby plaque
explains how the US Military was struggling to find a way to keep the
Japanese from deciphering their communications in the South Pacific
Theater, and that 29 Navajo marines were recruited to devise a new
code using their native language. By war's end there were over 400
Navajo Marines serving as code talkers, and the Marine Corps
commanders credited them with saving countless American lives.
Maj. Howard Conner, Signal Officer on Iwo Jima, is quoted as saying,
"Were it not for the Navajos, the Marines would not have taken Iwo Jima."
This impressive history is also the subject of a fictional 2002 movie,
Back on Route 12 we saw more patriotism in a cemetery festively filled
with American flags.
The scenery on our route became very dramatic as we drove north of
Window Rock. Huge red rock cliffs lined the sides of the road.
Suddenly it seemed that God switched paints on his easel, and large
rock formations began to cover the landscape in shades of green as
well as red.
Someone with an artistic eye painted their house a vivid blue,
making a wonderful contrast to the green and red rocks in their
back yard
In one place the
sandstone even had a
pink hue. It was a
beautiful drive.
Our destination was
Canyon de Chelly
National Park
(pronounced "d'Shay").
This park is at the confluence of three
snaking canyons that are like three fingers of
a hand spreading eastward from where they
all join in the town of Chinle ("pronounced
Chinley").
The stunning thing about Canyon de Chelly
is the immensity of the canyons. Standing on
cliffs that are 1,000' above the canyon floor,
the walls are very sheer and the views curve
past narrow walls of stone. At the bottom of
the canyon is a lush, fertile valley floor where
the Navajo developed corn fields and peach
orchards in the 18th and 19th centuries.
In the movies, landscapes like this are always accompanied by the piercing call of a
falcon echoing off the canyon walls. But here the silence was so noticeable that our ears
hurt. Scanning the horizon many miles distant, and looking deep into the valley below
us, the only sound was our own breathing. Even the wind stood still.
In 1805 the Spanish tried to conquer the Navajos. At the point where I was standing a woman
tried to fend off a Spanish soldier, and in their struggle the two fell off the cliff to their deaths. In
the distance we could see "Massacre Cave" where the Navajos had hidden out. In the end, the
Spanish claimed to have killed 90 men and 25 women and children, but the Navajo remember it
differently, saying that all the younger men were out hunting that day and the deaths were strictly
women, children and old men.
Either way, the cave looked tiny in
the distance. Inside were some
structures that the Navajo hid in.
To the left of the main cave was a
much smaller one and, using the
long camera lens, we could see
another small structure inside there
as well. It is hard to imagine living
on the edge of a cliff like that for any period of time,
especially with the Spanish after you.
At each viewpoint you get a slightly different view of these
lush canyons, and it was hard to capture the enormity of
the place in a little photograph. Pan out or zoom in? How
do you show it all??
At the Mummy Cave overlook we came across a
couple sitting behind a tripod. They were waiting
patiently for the afternoon light to provide its best
illumination of the cave ruins far below. Waiting
for good light sounded like a great idea, so we hung out and
started chatting with them. It turned out that they had spent the
last three years traveling the western states in their camper van, living
a lot like we do by boondocking on public lands.
Our eyebrows shot up when they told us they had just come back
from a sailboat charter in the Grenadines in the Caribbean ten days
earlier and were contemplating taking their travels to the sea. What's
more, we found out Tim's mountain bike on the back of their van was
the same exact model as Mark's on the back of our trailer. To top it
off, Mary Lynn enjoyed web design too. What a crazy coincidence!!
Like us, too, they were using a Nikon camera to try to capture this cliff
dwelling in just the right light!
The good light never came, but we managed a few shots
anyways and hoped we'd run into these guys again somewhere.
Meanwhile, the mystery of the cliff dwellings lured us on. The ancients built their homes in caves on these sheer
canyon cliffs between 700 and 1300 AD. So these homes were first going up right after the peak of Mayan
remodeling down in Palenque in Chiapas, Mexico. They may not be as majestic in terms of size or human
construction and engineering skills, but they are incredible for making fantastic use of the landscape. What a
place to build a house!
Over at Antelope House we looked out across the canyon
at a beautifully striped, back-sloping wall. Nestled at its
base was a small town made up of crumbling walls,
windows and towers. You need binoculars or a long
telephoto lens to make out the tiny structures so far
below. Even then they look like little toy buildings for wee
dolls. They can't possibly be real.
Archaeologists call these ancient people the Anasazi,
which is derived from the Navajo language and is
variously translated as "Ancient Ones" and "Enemy
Ancestors," due to the subtle word "Zazi" which means
"Non-Navajo" or "enemy." Also known as the Ancient Puebloans,
from the Spanish word for "townspeople," these long ago people
farmed the valley floor and disappeared around 1300, probably due
to drought. The Navajo didn't arrive in this area until 1600, and by
then the ruins were long abandoned.
The Navajo flourished here for a while, but in 1864 US Col. Kit
Carson entered the canyon with a group of soldiers and
eventually cornered the Navajo at one end. Few survived, and
those that did were forced to walk 300 miles to Fort Sumner in
New Mexico and stand trial. They were allowed to return five
years later.
The most famous of the
ruins is "White House
Ruin," and we decided to
hike down into the
canyon to see it up close.
We hiked along with our
new RVing/sailing friends
who had ended up
camping alongside us overnight. As with every overlook in the entire
park, the views from the top were so gorgeous I found myself running
and jumping over the rocks trying to get the best angles and trying to
fit it all into the camera frame. Sigh. Not possible!
The contours of the rocks are
wavy and rippled, swirling in
enormous and wild patterns.
You can almost feel the power of
the water that etched out its
course along these canyon walls
over the millennia, carving its
path ever deeper into the stone.
After snaking down the edge of the rock face,
we finally arrived at the canyon floor, crossed a
small foot bridge, and arrived face-to-face with
White House Ruin.
Two levels of dwellings were built into the base of the cliff -- one
on the ground level and another one up about 40' off the ground in
a cave. An orange rainbow of stripes rains down the cliff wall,
painted by a divinely inspired hand -- or the result of a spilled paint
can way up on the top of the canyon.
At our feet we discovered unusual
flowers. A young Navajo boy showed us
a lovely painting he was working on
featuring the White House ruin and some
of the rock art that we could barely make
out along the rock wall.
In no time at all we climbed back to the top, passing through a wonderful
tunnel on the way. We would have stayed to see a few more of the
sights this mysterious canyon has to offer, but a massive heatwave was
spreading across the west and we wanted to get to higher, cooler
ground. We seemed to be on an ancient ruin kick, something we had
started with the Zapotecs and Mayans in southern Mexico several
months back. So we made our way to Mesa Verde National Park in
Colorado, possibly the best collection of cliff dwellings in the US.
It was a tight squeeze to get here…but oh, was it worth it!
Mark fixes a light fixture.
Mama duck & ducklings.
Seagulls fished every afternoon.
A hummingbird guards "his" feeder.
Little white pelican boats float past.
The easy way to walk your dog...
…the dog's gotta run to keep up!
Relaxing in the shade of the trailer...
Cows stop what they're doing to study us as we ride past.
An idyllic setting.
Red rock mountains encircle green farmland.
Happy rural living.
The Grass Valley Mercantile Company.
Inside the Mercantile.
These guys were 93 miles into a 250-mile daytrip.
Fish Lake Scenic Byway.
The deck of Fish Lake Lodge overlooks the lake.
Fish Lake through the aspens.
A creative banister on the deck stairs.
Wildflowers!
The fireplace.
"Ooh - fish guts - Yuck!!"
"Cool, dad!!"
The Old Spanish Trail...memorialized.
Fish Lake Scenic Byway.
Butterflies and moths were everywhere.
The Mormon Temple in Manti.
Liquor is sold only in special places.
Free the Five Wives!!
The culprit.
Koosharem and the Fish Lake Scenic Byway, Utah
Mid-June, 2012 - Searing heat chased us out of the brilliant red rocks of Capitol Reef National
Park, Utah, and we were glad to see the landscape cool to soft green rolling hills as we traveled
north. Searching for a scenic place to put the fifth wheel, we wriggled down a narrow dirt road,
squeezed the big rig between some very thick bushes, and finally emerged onto a perfect
shoreside spot on the edge of the Koosharem Reservoir. What a view!
Of course, taking a 52' long rig down a rutted dirt
road can wreak havoc inside
the trailer, and Mark had to JB
Weld one of the light fixtures
back together again.
What a beautiful contrast the
blues and greens of this place
were to the rugged red rock
cliffs of Capitol Reef just 50
miles south of us. Wildlife was
everywhere. Raucous seagulls
went fishing right outside our door
every morning and evening, and a
mother duck cruised by every sunset with her
brood in tow.
Hummingbirds discovered our feeder minutes
after we put it out, and one took up residence
on the derailleur cable of my bike, jealously
guarding the feeder from a distance.
Life was very relaxed on this little lake.
Cormorants would surface from fishing
underwater every so often, and in the late
afternoons the pelicans would float by like
little white boats.
Just as regularly, a neighboring RVer
would zoom past on his motorbike while
his dog bounded eagerly behind.
One afternoon we found a rabbit lounging in the trailer's shadow looking very much
like he owned the place.
The lake was surrounded by pastures filled
with cattle and sheep. When we rode our
bikes around the lake the cows all stopped
what they were doing and stared at us
intently as if they had never seen a bike
before.
There was a peaceful serenity here.
One morning we headed over the hills to the towns of
Richfield and Koosharem. Red rocks revealed
themselves once again on our drive, and the valley
stretched like a vast green sea of farmland between the
mountains.
We had been visiting national parks for the last month,
going from one tourist destination to the next. But this
was down home farm country. When we parked at the
supermarket it was quite a change to slide in between
two trailers, one carrying irrigation equipment and the
other one filled with sheep.
Peering through
the slats of the
sheep trailer I
spotted a face that was fluffy and white with dark eyes but was definitely not a sheep.
"That's a Great Pyrenees Mountain Dog," the farmer said as he walked over to me.
"He lives with the sheep all the time and guards them." Sure enough, he looked very
contented in the trailer with all his sheep buddies surrounding him.
We got another
reminder of the rural
nature of this area
when we scanned
the magazine rack in
the supermarket and
saw "Chickens
Magazine" standing
front and center. It featured
an article on how best to
catch and hold a hen. All the
outdoorsy joys of rural living
were highlighted on this
magazine rack: right behind
Chickens were Hunting
Illustrated, The
Backwoodsman, Rifle's Varmint Magazine, Trophy Hunter, Bow & Arrow, Fly Rod & Reel,
Illustrated Horse Magazine and The New Pioneer.
Over in the tiny town of Koosharem, the Grass Valley Mercantile Company has been the local
variety store for eons. The mural on the outside of the building advertised "Never Rip
Overalls" by Scowcroft, a brand of pants we learned later were made in Utah in the early part
of the last century. They were known for their ruggedness right up until the last pair was
produced in 1937. There was a comforting air of antiquity here.
On our way into town
we had followed several
groups of cyclists,
including a pair on
recumbent bikes. We
caught up with
Katherine of the Salt
Lake Randonneurs at
the Mercantile.
Between gulps of V8
juice she explained that
she and her companion
were 93 miles into a 250 mile bike
ride that day. The kicker was that the
group of cyclists was doing all those
miles in just one day and night. Yikes!
Another day we drove the Fish Lake
Scenic Byway, one of Utah's many
beautiful highways and byways that are
officially (and rightfully) designated as
"scenic." This road weaves and curves
through pine tree studded hills and into
thick aspen groves.
A bike trail runs alongside the lake and
we found ourselves jumping on and off
our bikes to take in the views and check out the
wildflowers.
Fish Lake Lodge is the centerpiece of
the whole Fish Lake community.
It's a wonderful log building filled with
trophy heads with a large dining room
that looks out over the lake.
We were there in the summertime, but the fireplace
looked ideal for snowy winter evenings too.
Of course the main activity at Fish Lake is fishing,
and it seemed everyone we saw was carrying a
fishing pole, a tackle box and other specialized
fishing tools. Melton Tackle seems to be a good
brand for a great day of fishing.
A large family huddled around one of the fish
cleaning stations near the Lodge, and two men
busily carved up the day's catch. The kids watched
in fascination as one of the men sliced open the
belly of a fish and then explained it was a female
as he pulled out a fistful of eggs!
The little girl scrunched up her face and squealed
“Gross!” while the little boy next to her grinned,
"That's cool, Dad!”
The Fish Lake Scenic Drive lived up to its billing and was very pretty. People have
traveled through this area for a long time. It was first inhabited by mammoth hunters
some 9,000 years ago, and part of the Old Spanish Trail, used by Utes and cowboys
alike, wanders along the western side of the lake. Out of the corner of our eyes we
both thought we spotted a train of horseback riders, but on second glance we saw it
was a memorial sculpture in the middle of a field commemorating the Utes and settlers
who traversed the Old Spanish Trail.
Notes from Kit Carson in
1848 described the shallow
streams in the area as
"swarming with fish." Using
just "an old bayonet
fastened to a stick" he
caught five dozen fish at sunrise in the icy water.
We didn't see quite such plentiful fish, but we found
the flower-strewn banks of the lake and streams
teeming with butterflies.
The rolling hills around Fish Lake got us thinking
about the bigger mountains up north, and we soon
packed up the rig and journeyed a little further down
the road. Utah is home to many devout Mormons,
and the temple in the small town of Manti was
quite a sight to see out the truck window.
The flip side of such piousness is that liquor is
rather hard to find. The small towns we
passed through didn't sell beer at the grocery
stores. To satisfy that kind of wayward vice
you had to go down to the gas station or to a
liquor outlet store.
We felt quite sinful when we ducked into one of these small outlets on the edge of
town, and we guiltily glanced over our shoulders to see if anyone was watching us as
we slipped through the door.
Another unusual side to the Mormons' straight-laced style of Christianity is the dubious
history these fine people have with polygamy. The practice was abandoned long ago
by mainstream Mormons, but the idea of it still raises eyebrows among non-Mormons
today. So it was with a slight smirk that we heard the story behind a t-shirt hanging on
the wall which showed five jailed women in vintage garb above the words. "Free the
Five Wives."
Apparently a Utah distillery recently created a delicious new vodka which they named
"Five Wives Vodka." Its popularity soared when the distributors over in Idaho refused
to carry it because they found the name insulting to the faithful. This ban resulted in
an outcry among vodka lovers on both sides of the border. T-shirts demanding that
the Five Wives be let out of jail were printed up and they sold like mad. Naturally we
had to pick up a bottle of the stuff, as we have both really enjoyed the Wasatch
Brewing Company's beer called "Polygamy Porter" which, ironically, has always been
sold freely and never been banned anywhere!
Happily toasting Utah's incredible beauty, we left Koosharem in pursuit of the pretty
scenery and great bike rides found along the Scenic Byways of Provo Canyon and its Alpine Loop.
Vivid colors come to life.
Mark disappears in the vast landscape.
Late afternoon shadow-play at Sunset Point.
Twisted trees resemble driftwood on
an inlad vermillion sea.
We were way too excited to sit down!
A wildfire puffs smoke in the distance.
Views along the park's "Scenic Drive"
An antique plough sits out in a field.
Pioneer Schoolhouse
...and now.
Capitol Gorge Wash then...
It must have been exciting to
arrive here.
Hiking to the Pioneer Register.
Pioneer names from September
24th, 1910.
M. Larson, Nov. 20th, 1888
Wildflowers soften the canyon walls.
Looking down from our hike to
the Golden Throne
Gnarled trees on the Golden
Throne hike.
End of Trail. And there's the Golden Throne.
Views from the park's "Scenic Drive"
The setting sun plays with light and shadow on the rocks.
Gifford Homestead Barn
Not a bad spot to graze.
Hickman Bridge
Admiring the view.
Capitol Reef National Park & Fruita, Utah
Mid-June, 2012 - After our energetic hikes in Natural Bridges National
Monument and our awe-inspiring drive along the Bicentennial Highway
(Route 95), we were geared up to for more immersion in Utah's red rocks.
We found exactly that at Capitol Reef National Park in Utah.
On our first afternoon
in the area we visited
Sunset Point, a perfect
spot to watch the sun
fall lower and lower in
the sky. The vivid
colors came to life in
the late afternoon.
It is a dramatic
setting - a
wonderful place
to get a photo of a
loved one with a
soaring backdrop.
There were clouds
in the sky, and
they wafted past
us overhead,
casting shadows
and playing with
the sunlight as
they passed.
Dead tree stumps were twisted into exotic shapes here and
there, looking a bit like driftwood that had been washed ashore
somehow in this burnt orange desert land.
Park benches invited us to take
a load off, but we were way too
busy running up and down the
hiking trails -- trying to see
everything at once -- to even
think about sitting down.
Off in the distance a
new wildfire smoldered. A nearby plaque stated that this part
of Utah boasts some of the cleanest air in the continental US,
but the smattering of wildfires that were burning at the time
weren't helping that claim.
We wandered among the red rocks until the disappearing
sun had quietly stolen all their colors away.
Capitol Reef National Park is a
long skinny park (~5 miles wide
by ~50 miles long) that runs on a
north-south axis along the
Waterpocket Fold which is a
huge buckle in the earth's crust.
There are loads of backcountry
roads and trails leading to wild
and remote places, but on this
visit we stuck to the easy-to-
reach hikes.
The tiny community of Fruita is at the heart of this area, and Mormons settled there in the late
1800's. By 1917 they had a bustling village filled with orchards. Cherries, apricots, peaches,
pears and apples are still grown here, but we were just a little too early to take advantage of any of the harvests.
Remnants of Fruita's past still remain
along the edges of the scenic drive
through the park. An old plow and a
pioneer schoolhouse were reminders of
a bygone era.
This area was extremely difficult to
reach for those pioneers, due to the
rugged terrain of the Waterpocket Fold,
but a route coming in did exist along the
bottom of a wash through Capitol
Gorge. Between 1871 and the early
1940's Mormons arrived via this route,
first by horse and buggy and then by
car. Looking at my photos afterwards I
noticed that Mark had been standing
pretty close to the spot where a photo
from the National Park Service showed
an antique car going through.
It took a group of men eight days to move all the boulders out of a 3.5 mile
stretch of the Capitol Gorge wash so it could be traversed by vehicles. Then two
cars could just barely pass side by side. Today the wash is regaining its natural
state and there are boulders and thickets of plants growing where it once must
have been smooth enough for a car to make it through.
As the arriving pioneers passed the towering cliffs, a lot of them stopped to
carve their names in the flat parts of the stone walls. Today it's called the
Pioneer Register, and we saw names and dates from the late 1800's all the way
to 1942. It is hard to imagine what those determined, rugged and travel-weary
people must have felt as they passed through this gorge to a new life. Little kids
with grubby hands must have peered out the windows of the cars, while
flustered moms tried to keep all their kids in tow. I can't imagine the exhaustion
and exhilaration they must have felt. Yet the town where they were arriving
didn't even have the paved campground loops, the gift shop full of coffee table
books or the flush toilets that it does today.
In my excitement of spotting
a list of names high up on
one wall, I hastily took a
photo without looking
closely enough at what I
was shooting. I managed
to get all the names in the
list but cut off the date -- it
was September 24th 1910.
Still mulling over the
immense changes that
have taken place in the
world since the last signatures from the 1940's were pecked out on these
walls, we started up the initial ascents of the Golden
Throne hike. This hike took us to the tops of the rock
cliffs where we had magnificent views looking down on
the road far below.
Gnarled trees greeted us as we climbed higher and
higher, until finally -- and rather abruptly -- we came to a
sign that said "End of trail." Behind it was the trail's
namesake Golden Throne, a huge round yellow rock.
Making our way back along the park's
simply named "Scenic Drive," the late
afternoon light was playing with the
rocks again, a game of hide-and-seek
that involved brights and shadows
on the burgundy rocks.
A lone barn belonging to the historic
Gifford Homestead and a horse
munching the grass in the pasture
across the street spoke of the
immense peace of this place. The
trees rustle so softly and the birds
chirp so quietly. The bustle of the
campground and the arriving cars of
tourists seemed to suddenly hush,
as if everyone knew to act as if the
were in a library in honor of the calm
that resides here.
If the pioneers had a tortuous trip getting
here, once they arrived and got settled they
must have paused for a moment on many a
luscious afternoon and murmured "This is
God's country," because it is, even today.
We fell under the area's spell and decided to do one more hike
before moving on down the road. Hickman Bridge is a rock
bridge that is a cousin to the three bridges we had seen at
Natural Bridges National Monument. It is an easy hike in to see
it, but once there we found it hard to get it lined up in such a way
as to prove that it was indeed a bridge. The other rocks and cliffs
all crowd around it, like a city swarming around a man-made
bridge, and only when you get
underneath can you get it
framed against the sky.
Mark gave up trying to capture
it on camera and simply sat
across the way admiring it, legs
folded and very content.
As has been the theme for us
this season, the heat of summer
began to catch up with us and soon we were pushed a little further
north in Utah to Koosharem Reservoir and Fish Lake where the
fiery red rocks gave way to cool green mountains and seagulls
flying over the water.
Florida in the upper left, Venezuela along the bottom.
Southern Mexico & Northern Central America
Our Travel Route: May 2007 - June 2012
Starting in May, 2007, our travels have taken us to these places:
2007 - RV: New Mexico, California, Oregon, Washington, Canada, Wyoming, Utah, Nevada, Arizona
2008 - RV: Arizona, Florida, Mississippi, Kansas, Arizona, Utah, Nevada, California, Arizona
2009 - RV: California, Florida, Mississippi, Arkansas, Kansas, Arizona, California
Car/hotel: Michigan
RV: Idaho, Montana, Nevada, Arizona
Airplane/hotel: SE Caribbean
2010 - Sailboat: California, Mexico's Baja Pacific Coast
2011 - Sailboat: Mexico's Mainland Pacific Coast, Sea of Cortez
RV: Arizona, Utah, Arizona
Sailboat: Sea of Cortez, Mexico's Pacific Coast
2012 - Sailboat: Mexico's Pacific Coast + inland trips by bus
RV: Arizona, Colorado, Utah
A complete chronological listing of all our travels (with links) follows:
In May, 2007, we left our just-leased home in
Phoenix, Arizona and picked up our new Lynx
travel trailer in Kemp, Texas outside of Dallas.
We arrived at Marshall's RV with everything we
needed for our new lifestyle packed into the back
of our truck. After staying near the dealership for
ten days, just to make sure all the systems
worked okay, we headed west. We traveled
between I-10 and I-40 on small country roads
through west Texas and New Mexico. We
arrived in Flagstaff, Arizona, and installed a solar
panel and finished some personal odds and ends,
wrapping up our old life in Phoenix.
We left Flagstaff in June, 2007 and went to
Mammoth Lakes, California where we enjoyed
snow-capped mountains and crystal clear lakes.
From there we went to Yosemite National Park via Tioga Pass on the eastern side, and then took the tiny roads out of the
mountains to the west, skirting Sacramento and landing at the California coast at Fort Bragg, 150 miles north of San Francisco. We
wandered north along the Oregon Coast in July, 2007, awestruck by the rugged beauty of the craggy cliffs and crashing surf. At the
top of Oregon we turned inland, following the Columbia River along the northern part of Oregon. Next, we ventured into southern
Washington, exploring the often-foggy coast and the steaming cauldron of Mt. St. Helens. Then we made our way up to northern
Washington, where we visited Olympic National Park and Mt. Rainier.
In August, 2007 we took a ferry from Port Angeles, Washington to Vancouver Island and spent most of the month on the southern
half of the island. At the end of our visit we spent several days in Victoria, BC, before boarding a ferry for Anacortes, Washington.
From there we traveled east along the North Cascades in Washington to northern Idaho. In September, 2007 we traveled further
east to visit Glacier National Park in Montana. Then we dropped south to Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming where we
enjoyed both the tamed wild animals and the hot springs and geysers. Just a little south of Yellowstone we spent a day touring the
incomparable mountain and lake scenery of Grand Teton National Park in Wyoming and then made our way east to Devil's Tower
in northeastern Wyoming.
At the end of September, 2007, we reached our turnaround point at Custer State Park in the Black Hills of South Dakota in the
southwest corner of the state. We could feel the chill of fall in the air. We headed west through Wyoming along I-80 and dropped
down into northern Utah, wandering from Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area over to Park City outside of Salt Lake City, Utah.
Caught in an early snow storm we quickly dropped south again to Green River, Utah, and the San Rafael Swell where we were awed
by the easy access to ancient petroglyphs and dinosaur tracks. We dipped down from there, in October, 2007, to Goblin Valley,
Utah and then to Zion National Park and Kodachrome Basin, all along the unbelievably scenic Route 12 which zig-zags across
Utah. Chased by cold weather, we went south to the outskirts of Las Vegas, Nevada, where we found the stunning Valley of Fire
State Park. Here we saw sunrises that looked like sunsets and cycled on an exquisite road through geological formations of every
shape and color. As the nights grew cold in November, 2007, we sought warmth at Death Valley National Park in California and
then cruised into southern Arizona in early December, 2007, where we made our first visit to Quartzsite, Arizona.
We had completed a loop tour of the western states, and we were pooped! We recovered completely during Christmas, 2007, visiting
with family in Phoenix before returning to Quartzsite, Arizona in January, 2008 for their big RV show. While freezing in howling
winds under grey skies, we kept looking at the weather map on the back page of USA Today and seeing that Florida was toasty
warm. It was time to leave. We made our way east through Texas the long way, skimming the Rio Grande and the Gulf Coast,
dashing across Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama on I-10 and arriving in Florida in February, 2008. We spent three months in
Florida, criss-crossing northern Florida several times. We visited Daytona just in time to see the Daytona 200 motorcycle race and
Spring Break. Then we cruised along the southern and western coasts of Florida, swimming at beaches near Miami and
Sarasota as we looped around to the Florida panhandle.
At the end of April, 2007 we visited the Gulf coast town of Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, amazed at this town's enthusiastic revival
following Katrina. From there we traveled north to Natchez, Mississippi where the great river was cresting higher than it had since
the 1930's and the historic mansions told stories of a different culture in a different era. We drove along the Natchez Trace Parkway
north to Jackson, Mississippi, exploring ancient Indian mounds and cycling this unique commercial-traffic free road.
In May, 2008, we arrived in Chanute, Kansas, putting our sightseeing on hold for a month as we immersed ourselves in learning all
we could about NuWa fifth wheel trailers. After a lot of thought, we decided to take the plunge. We made a deal at the factory with
local dealer H&K Camper Sales to buy a new Hitchhiker fifth wheel trailer. We moved into the new trailer on May 20, 2008, the exact
same day that we had left Phoenix to begin this new fulltime RV lifestyle a year ago. Thrilled with our new purchase, we needed to
get it set up for solar battery charging, so we returned to Flagstaff, Arizona where we upgraded the solar system we had had on the
Lynx. We felt a little like we were repeating history--but with greater knowledge and sophistication: we stayed in the same
campground and had a similar (though more complex) solar installation project as we had had during the same time period one year
before. We had learned something important during this year of travel, however: to slow down. Taking a break from our solar
installation work on the buggy, we cycled and hiked through the sights of Sunset Crater National Monument.
In late June, 2008, we left Flagstaff, Arizona and went all the way around the Grand Canyon to its North Rim. We stayed for three
weeks in an idyllic setting about 18 miles from the Rim. From there we wandered north through Kanab, Utah and discovered one of
Utah's great animal sanctuaries. After hugging and petting many non-human friends, we continued north to Ruby's Inn and Bryce
Canyon where we spent a month in a bucolic setting. In a past visit in our former lives, we had squeezed the North Rim and Bryce
into a few days. We were really learning to sloooow waaaay down.
At the end of August, 2008, we wandering among the small communities that dot the mountainous and red rock strewn terrain of
southern Utah. We basked in the small town comfort of Kanab and Alton, meandering along their pretty streets on brilliant blue-sky
filled days. And we enjoyed the hometown fun of a three-day Labor Day county fair in Parowan, Utah. During September we
stopped in at Pioche, Nevada, a once bustling mining town might have been the wildest frontier town in the heyday of the wild west.
From there we revisited our former lives with a stopover at Interbike, the annual bicycle industry trade-show in Las Vegas. We
caught up on the latest bike gear and saw Lance Armstrong in a night-time cyclo-cross race (but forgot to bring our cameras, so
there's no proof!).
Sweltering in the 100 degree Vegas heat, we dashed across the California desert (hot hot hot!) to San Diego's Shelter Island and
Mission Bay where the cool breezes, bright sunshine and salt air seduced us into staying for the entire month of October, 2008.
Heading inland, we spent November in Yuma, Arizona, where we enjoyed the last warm days of 2008 before the start of winter.
We stayed in the Arizona Desert for most of December and January. In Quartzsite we installed a vent-free heater just as the first
freezing winter storm hit. This kept us warm through the holidays in Phoenix, til we hit the San Diego waterfront once again to attend
the sailboat show in January. We were reluctant to leave the unusually warm, sunny coast, but great friends, good times and the RV
show awaited us back in Quartzsite.
Ready for a change of pace, we made a mad dash across country, and spent six weeks on the quiet rivers and sugar-white sand
beaches that fringe the Florida Panhandle's emerald waters. State parks and seaside villages highlighted our visit and made our
photo journal spill onto two pages (Florida Panhandle 2). Heading north, we visited the Natchez Trace in Mississippi a second time
and made some enjoyable stops in central and northern Arkansas. Warranty work on our trailer took us to Chanute, Kansas next,
followed by a long slog back along I-40 to Arizona.
We stopped at Roosevelt Lake in Arizona and had two blissful weeks of cycling, kayaking and photography. Spurred by a desire to
expand our travels onto the seven seas, we went boat shopping around San Francisco & Los Angeles.
An accident in May, 2009 put us in Michigan for seven weeks with friends and family but without our trailer. We looped around Lake
St. Clair, which borders both Detroit and Canada, and then dropped down to N. Ohio & Elkhart, Indiana where we visited the RV/MH
Hall of Fame and toured Amish Country and the Heartland RV factory. Later in June, we traveled up Michigan's west coast,
stopping in the charming waterfront town of South Haven. Continuing north, we traveled along the scenic coastal roads of Lake
Michigan (with a detour through Detroit) to hit Saugatuck, Higgins Lake and Traverse City, alternating between seeing new sights
and having Mark take me on nostalgic trips down memory lane. We continued north along the Lake Michigan coast, visiting the
harborfront villages of Charlevoix and Harbor Springs and driving under the unique green limbed canopy of the Tunnel of Trees.
In late June we crossed the Macinaw Bridge into the Upper Peninsula and visited the towns of St. Ignace and Hessel, making a brief
stop at the Great Lakes Boat Building School. A trip to the Soo Locks revealed both north and southbound freighters in the locks
simultaneously, one going up and one going down. We ended our Michigan visit with a trip down the Lake Huron shoreline,
marveling at lighthouses, shipwrecks and hydroplane boat races, and finally wrapping it all up with a stroll through the German
immigrant town of Frankenmuth.
We flew back to California and moved back into our trailer just in time for San Diego's 4th of July bash. Taking the long route north
and east, we traveled to Ketchum, Idaho, where we unwound in bliss and rediscovered our inner joy for a month. We worked our
way down much of the Visitors Center's 50 Fun Free Things To Do in Ketchum/Sun Valley list. There was the symphony's free
summer concert series, the Sun Valley Lodge itself, and winter sports memorabilia all over Sun Valley, ID. A little further north we
stopped in Stanley, ID, enjoying several blissful kayak rides in the crystal clear lakes among the mountains. We got a lesson in
salmon lifecycles too. As August, 2009 ended, our lessons shifted from fish biology to cattle ranching in Stevensville, MT (just south
of Missoula) at our good friends' neighbor's ranch. They took us to the annual Labor Day Weekend Hemville Rodeo to see how
ranchers unwind on the weekend. This event was so much fun we had to create a second Rodeo page.
In September, 2009, we hustled south along I-15, stopping several times between Logan and Cedar City, Utah to take in the sights
and drive the scenic roads through the mountains. A stint in Las Vegas, Nevada split us up between the glitzy annual Interbike
bicycle industry trade show and the soaring peaks at Red Rock Canyon. A brief detour along I-15 finally landed us at Valley of Fire
State Park for a second visit (first was in 2007). Red rocks, petroglyphs, jaw-dropping drives and exhilerating bike rides. A little
further down the Colorado River, we stopped at Laughlin, Nevada where the RV snowbirds were flocking on their flight south. By
the end of October we were back in Arizona for a free stay at Havasu Springs Resort in exchange for listening to an RV
membership program presentation. We returned to our home front, Phoenix, Arizona in November, 2009, and visited two Phoenix
Looking for new excitement and warmer climes, we jetted to Grenada in the southeastern Caribbean to begin a 10-week tropical
adventure. Going aboard a 75' wooden yacht that Frank Sinatra used to sail on was one of many highlights as we stayed on
Grenada's main island. Paradise Beach on Carriacou Island captivated us, and we enjoyed several walking adventures. We spent
many days in total relaxation and pure joy in Carriacou, Grenada, and eventually took the ferry to Union Island in the country of St.
Vincent & The Grenadines where Christmas Eve and Christmas Day celebrations were in colorful full swing. Next day, a 15 minute
flight landed us on the island of Bequia, at one time a charming oasis of peace and tranquility where we planned to spend a month.
Accosted by scam artists at the airport and finding the locals both sullen and mean, we searched hard to find the pretty side of this
island.
Meanwhile, an online search had turned up our dream boat for sale at a rock bottom price in San Diego. We submitted an online bid
as a lark and suddenly found ourselves thrust into the boat buying process once again. A wild 33 hour walk/ferry/taxi/jet ride to San
Diego put us face to face with Groovy, our new home. After two weeks of non-stop preparations, on January 31, 2010 we left San
Diego and went south to Ensenada, Mexico via ports at Puerto La Salina and Hotel Coral & Marina. We lived on our new boat
Groovy at Hotel Coral & Marina in Ensenada, Mexico for the next six months.
Getting out and about in Ensenada, we found small thrills in the markets and in "Gringo Gulch," the tourist zone. Over Valentine's
weekend we got downtown to witness the amazing spectacle of the Carnaval Parade. Returning to the US a few times we learned a
little about the border and were grateful at last to return home to the boat in Ensenada. Despite an El Nino year, a tsunami and an
earthquake, life in Ensenada was very sweet. In April, 2010, we watched two races back to back: the Rosarito-Ensenada bike race
and the Newport-Ensenada sailboat race. Settling back into our routine, we continued to prepare the boat for cruising and
discovered some colorful neighborhoods in Ensenada.
As May, 2010 ended, we continued exploring the area around Ensenada, Mexico, including La Bufadora, the famed blow hole. In
back-to-back contrasting adventures, we experienced both the genteel and the raucous at the Riviera Cultural Center and Baja 500
off-road race. Sticking to the genteel, we took a daytrip a few miles inland to experience the flavor and beauty of Ensenada's wine
country. Back at Marina Coral we met many interesting travelers passing through Ensenada, and we discovered a vibrant running
and racing scene in town. In early August, 2010, we moved Groovy to Ensenada's Baja Naval boatyard for a few projects that were
beyond our skill set, and said farewell to Ensenada.
Towards the end of August, 2010, we sailed up to San Diego and enjoyed the free anchorages that are available to cruisers there,
learning how to boondock on the water. In September we continued visiting the various anchorages around the bay as our many
projects to prepare the boat for cruising kept us in the San Diego.
In addition to the above map, there is more geographical detail on coastal Mexico here: Mexico Maps.
Finishing our major outfitting projects on Groovy in October, 2010, we started sailing down the Baja coast on November 2nd.
Harbor hopping a little and doing a few overnight trips, we continued along the Baja coast further until dawn of November 19th when
we motored past the gorgeous cliffside properties on approach to Cabo San Lucas. Following a brief stay there, we tackled 330
miles of open ocean to cross the Sea of Cortez to Chamela Bay on Mexico's mainland Pacific coast, called the "Costa Algre" ("Happy
Coast") for Thanksgiving. 55 miles further south, we were charmed by Manzanillo. "THIS is why we went cruising," we agreed,
remaining anchored off Manzanillo's Las Hadas Resort for 10 days. New friends persuaded us to keep moving south another 180
miles, taking us first to mini island paradise Isla Ixtapa where we swam and snorkeled and enjoyed the tropical air, and then on to
charming Zihuatanejo for Christmas and New Year's.
We stayed in Zihuatanejo for most of January, 2011, finding ever more enchantments in its nooks and crannies. At last we hauled
anchor and motored 200 miles back north to Manzanillo where we met my mom and took her to visit lovely Santiago Bay. We
hovered between Santiago and neighboring Las Hadas resort for a few weeks, enjoying a wide variety of scenery and activities.
Wandering just a little north for Valentine's Day, we discovered the unique charm of Barra de Navidad, an enclosed, serene lagoon
anchorage. From Cuastecomate to Tenacatita, once considered paradise, we experienced the human and ecological challenges
facing this area. A tsunami caused by a record earthquake in Japan sent us out to sea and up the coast where we discovered a
hidden island paradise among the islands in Chamela Bay.
At the end of March, 2011, we left the "gold coast" anchorages of the Costa Alegre, rounded Cabo Corrientes to the north, and found
ourselves immersed in the sailing and gringo oriented town of La Cruz de Huanacaxtle outside Puerto Vallarta. Further north we
visited the famed bells of San Blas and Isla Isabel's frigate bird colony and blue footed boobies. An overnight passage took us to
Mazatlan where we found a city in turmoil. So we quickly hustled across the Sea of Cortez on another overnight passage to the
bottom of the Baja peninsula. La Paz & Puerto Balandra were total delights in mid-April where we got caught up with provisioning
and learned firsthand about the potentially horrifying springtime Coromuel winds that haunt the area.
At the end of April, 2011, we started heading north into the Sea of Cortez, stopping at Isla Partida's Ensenada Grande and Isla San
Francisco. A late season (May) Norther packed a wallop, but we emerged unscathed in the gorgeous, friendly bay of Agua Verde.
Just a few miles up the coast we witnessed both the natural side and the resort side of the Sea of Cortez at Isla Coronado and
Ensenada Blanca, set against the backdrop of reading Steinbeck's Log of the Sea of Cortez.
On May 22, 2011, we toasted the end of our fourth year of travel and beginning of our fifth while anchored off Loreto, a pretty, laid
back town. We stayed in the Loreto area for several weeks, enjoying the civilized pleasures of Puerto Escondido as well as Loreto,
and then we ventured north to San Juanico and Bahía Concepción where we immersed ourselves in nature and hung out with the
local ex-pats. At the end of June, 2011, we left the boat in San Carlos Marina in Mexico and went to Phoenix to catch up on a long
list of chores and re-lease our townhouse.
In August, 2011 we jumped in the fifth wheel and went to Bonito Campground / Wupatki Nat'l Monument in Flagstaff, Arizona. We
explored caves, marveled at 2,000 year old pine trees and hiked red rock canyons in Dixie National Forest, Utah. Seeking more
red rock vistas, we did two hikes at another hidden jewel, Cedar Breaks National Monument where we were surprised by the
abundance of colorful wildflowers. Still not saturated with red rocks, we hiked all over Red Canyon and visited nearby Panguitch and
Tropic for some Mormon pioneer history lessons. We ended our RVing season with a county fair in Parowan, Utah, the Interbike
bicycle trade show in Las Vegas and some Route 66 nostalgia and discovery of Sycamore Canyon in Williams, Arizona.
We returned to Groovy in San Carlos, Mexico in early October, 2011. After crossing to the Baja side of the Sea of Cortez, we
stopped in at Punta Chivato and Bahía Concepción, where we found a cool wilderness school and met Geary the Cruisers'
Weatherman. Continuing south to the Loreto area, we swam and snorkeled in pretty La Ramada Cove and Isla Coronado before
seeing civilization again at Loreto and Puerto Escondido. Further south, the island anchorages near La Paz reveal a tiny
community, a long distance avian traveler, surprise treasure under water, and tropical beauty. The La Paz area gave us great tacos
and the La Paz Waltz, while nearby Playa Bonanza and Bahía Falsa soothed our souls. At the beginning of December, 2011 we
crossed the Sea of Cortez to La Cruz and then Paradise Village Resort Marina in Puerto Vallarta where we luxuriated in the
gorgeous resort surroundings. Swinging through Manzanillo Bay we were entertained by a whale, reconnected with old
acquaintances and made some incredible new ones. Christmas on Las Gatas beach followed by a tour of the could-be haunted
"Parthenon" of Arturo Durazo in Zihuatanejo wrapped up a fantastic 2011.
We started 2012 in the beautiful, warm and friendly Zihuatanejo/Ixtapa area. Heading south, we found high end yacht races,
soaring cliff divers, a fancy yacht club and several pretty anchorages in Acapulco. After the frightening discovery of a corpse at sea,
we arrived in the lovely Bahías de Huatulco at the end of January ready to soak up their natural beauty. In Huatulco's two little
towns we met some young Zapotecs and out of town we explored an Eco-Archaeology Park. Taking a bus over the mountains in
mid-February, we fell in love with the cool colonial city of Oaxaca. We found all kinds of color and action at Oaxaca's Zócalo and
were thrilled to witness a wedding in the Cathedral. Just outside town we discovered Zapotec pyramid ruins at Monte Alban and
wonderful relics at Oaxaca's Cultural Center. We took a daytrip tour to see the world's widest tree, learn traditional weaving
techniques, admire petrified waterfalls, marvel at ancient ruins at Mitla and taste some mezcals.
In late February, 2012, we crossed the Gulf of Tehantepec and stopped at the brand new Marina Chiapas next to the Guatemala
border. Taking the bus to Antigua, Guatemala we found a tourism-driven city that has an pretty veneer but a bullied soul. After a
few days back in Puerto Chiapas, we drove inland through the Mexican state of Chiapas on another unforgettable 200 mile bus ride.
In early March we took intensive Spanish classes in San Cristóbal and walked the pretty colonial streets. Five hours up the road on
a gorgeous mountain bus ride we stopped in Palenque where we saw amazing Mayan ruins and heard scary jungle sounds.
Narrow, bumpy roads and a boat ride up a river took us to the exotic, inspiring ruins of Yaxchilán & Bonampak. We said goodbye to
the Mayan world by visiting the gorgeous waterfalls of Misol-Ha & Agua Azul and celebrating the Spring Equinox at the Tenem
Puente ruins. In April, 2012 we left Groovy in Marina Chiapas for the summer and flew hurriedly to Michigan to see Mark's suddenly
ailing parents.
In May, 2012, we began our summer RVing travels with visits to Arizona's Mogollon Rim & Petrified Forest National Park.
Heading into Indian Country we visited Window Rock and stunning Canyon de Chelly National Park. Seeking a little more ancient
Indian exploration, we visited Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado and followed that up with some special encounters with the
locals in nearby Blanding, Utah. Following Utah's spectacular Bicentennial Highway, we visited Natural Bridges National
Monument. Turning west on Scenic Route 12 we arrived at Capitol Reef National Park where we immersed ourselves in red rock
vistas and pioneer history. Leaving red rocks for green rolling hills, Fish Lake, UT took us into the rural Utah countryside where we
heard the funny story behind Five Wives Vodka. With scenic drives as our theme, we continued north along the Provo Canyon
Scenic Byway and Alpine Loop Scenic Byway, home of Sundance Resort.
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Unusual rock formations line the road.
A deer says "hello" at Mesa Verde.
The Tower House, Mesa Verde Nat'l Park
Stone masonry from sandstone bricks.
They were as good at round walls as straight ones.
Communities are tucked under overhanging cliff walls.
Looking closer in.
Above the cliffs is flat land -- some has
been burned by wildfires.
A closer look at the buildings below.
Split-level living with some buildings on a higher ledge
and others on a lower one.
Cliff Palace.
A closer look at Cliff Palace.
A tour group walks through the Cliff Palace ruins.
An above-ground structure at Sun Temple.
The Far View Sites.
Don't Touch!!!
No climbing -- unless you're a
ranger.
Landscapes as we leave Colorado and enter Utah.
The real deal.
Winter wheat at twilight.
An old truck out back behind Jack's shop.
What else to do while waiting for work
on the trailer - take photos!
The round plastic handle was becoming square.
The design.
Jack and the finished product.
How it works and what it does.
Ta da!!
The Bicentennial Highway, Route 95 in Utah.
Typical sights along the "Bicentennial Highway"
Scenic Route 95.
"Oh oh oh oh -- it's perfect!!"
View out the window.
No one for five miles in any direction.
Why we love RVing in Utah.
Mesa Verde National Park & Eastern Utah.
Early June, 2012 - The mysterious cliff dwellings of Canyon de Chelly
National Park in Arizona had inspired us, so now we pointed our buggy
in the direction of Colorado's Mesa Verde National Park where another
massive cluster of cave homes lines the canyon walls.
We passed many
dramatic rock
formations on our
way, and we were
greeted by a deer
when we first
entered the park.
Mesa Verde is a vast park that requires a lot of driving on hilly twisty roads to
see all the sights. We were surprised by the huge number of tourists crammed
into the Visitors Center, especially compared to the quiet and laid back nature
of Canyon de Chelly. This is a park where you could easily stay a week or
more. The place is packed with different cliff dwelling structures as well as
above-ground ancient Indian ruins.
We tried to get our bearings quickly and headed out to the
Square Tower house. After driving some 10 miles or so
through the park winding along hill crests on curvy roads, it
was quite a surprise to walk down a short trail, turn a
corner, and find ourselves staring down at a beautiful intact
ruin.
The little community stood tightly pressed against a back-sweeping cliff
wall. The tower building was four stories tall with a large window on each
floor. But it all looked like a miniature doll house compound down there, far below our feet.
The buildings are made of sandstone bricks, each one about the size of a
loaf of bread, and they are mortared with a mixture of dirt and water. The
Ancestral Puebloans - or Anasazi - built these structures around 1100 to
1300 AD, but sadly left no written documentation behind.
At the Mayan ruins of southern Mexico we had been shocked to discover
that entire dynastic histories are known in detail today, right down to kings'
birthdays, city-state conquests and squabbles for power. However, at
these Indian ruins in Colorado we learned that very little is known with
certainty about the people who built and lived in them.
As we wound along the tops of the canyon walls, we were amazed to look
out across the narrow ditch and see all the tiny dwellings tucked into the
opposite canyon wall. At first all we could see was the faces of the cliffs,
but as our eyes adjusted to spotting the cave homes across the way,
suddenly they become obvious in every nook and cranny.
The park offers inexpensive tours of most of the ruins, but we contented ourselves
with getting an overview of it all from the top rather than climbing down in.
When we finally reached the Sun Temple overlook, the best place
to view the magnificent Cliff Palace ruins, we were amazed by the
complexity and density of the buildings. It was a complete town
nestled into a cave midway up a rock wall.
A tour group was passing through the ruin, and the tiny, brightly
colored people walking among the buildings gave us an interesting
perspective on this place. This canyon and its massive rock
formations is immense and timeless. But the people who built their
homes here stayed for just a few generations and filed through this
ageless place rather quickly. Fortunately for us today, they left a
most unusual signature behind: uneven, jam-packed housing.
We learned that the
first people to settle
this region were the
Basketmakers who wove very fine
basketry and built pole-and-adobe
houses above ground starting
around 750 AD. By 1,000 AD, just
before the Norman conquests of
England, they began building their
homes using stone masonry.
Interestingly, archaeologists say
their basketmaking skills showed
a marked decline once they
began to specialize in masonry.
It's intriguing to me that one skill rose while another
fell. And isn't it still so true today. We are all expert
at moving over ground at 60 mph but most of us
would balk at killing, plucking and carving up a
chicken for dinner, something our great-
grandparentss happily did years ago. We have all
become so adroit with electronic and keyboard
technology, but gosh darn if we aren't all forgetting
how to spell.
We wandered among the above-ground dwellings
and hiked around the Sun Temple and Megalithic
house. Like the Mayans at Bonampak who had
created an elaborate series of murals inside one
of their ruins but abandoned the building before
it was finished, here at Mesa Verde the Anasazi
had also abandoned their property before it was
totally completed. It is baffling to ponder how a
society can reach such heights of sophistication
and then vanish.
Unlike the Mayan ruins, however, where today's
visitors can scamper all over every building at
will, we saw signs posted everywhere telling us
not to touch or climb on anything.
Rangers, of course, are excepted…
Somewhere in our meanderings through Mesa
Verde we realized that we had reached total saturation with seeing the ancient
dwellings of antique cultures. We had seen some of the best of the best in the
last six months, and we were ready for a change of pace.
We left the Indians and Colorado behind and
crossed over into Utah, stopping at a gas station
to fill the truck. From somewhere in the distance
we heard the clank-clank-clank of spurs coming
towards us, and suddenly we found ourselves
face to face with a cowboy. Not a cowboy-hatted
urbanite donning the clothes and stance of his
country idol, but the real deal: a young,
hardworking cowboy who had just finished a dirty
week of cattle work.
When he started gassing up his truck, Mark struck up a conversation. It turned out he'd been
ranching all his life and now commuted every other week between Ogden at the north end of Utah
and Blanding a few hundred miles south at the other end of the state, to work on a ranch. He beamed
as he told us he had just found a house in the Blanding area so he could move his family down this
way. "Heidi is real happy," he drawled slowly, his bright blue eyes twinkling.
We asked him if our planned drive along Route 95 would be okay with our big truck and trailer (we
had read something about 8% grades). "Oh yeah," he said very slowly. "It's a real pretty drive.
That's how I go back and forth to Ogden." What a life: outdoors all day in some of the country's most
dramatic landscapes, and commuting to work on a National Scenic Highway.
Reassured that we would't be facing any gnarly
driving, we left the gas station and promptly
bottomed out the back end of the trailer on the
lip of the driveway. Our brand new bike rack that
we both just love scraped the pavement loudly
and the truck ground almost to a complete stop.
Mark made a face at me, and we leaped out of
the truck to check the damage. "We gotta fix
that!" He said nervously. But we were both
relieved that there was no damage worse than a few scratches. Our fantastic
new bike rack has been such a great addition to our travels this season, but it
hangs way out from the back of the trailer. This was the fourth time we'd
scraped it hard on the ground, and the once-round plastic knob on the back
was becoming rather square.
We drove over to the Visitors Center and found an old fellow deep in conversation with
the lady behind the desk. We asked if there was a good welder in town who could
fabricate something for a trailer hitch. They told us that JM Welding just on the edge of
town by the airport would do a great job for us.
Still uneasy about the Scenic Route 95 ahead of us that was known to
be so beautiful but scurried diagonally across the Utah map as if it
were a cat chasing a butterfly, I asked the pair if that route was okay
for a big truck and trailer. "Route 95?" the man said, "Why, I built that
road." Turns out that the construction of this road, known as the
Bicentennial Highway, had spanned from the 1930's to 1976 when it
finally got paved, and this man, Ferd Johnson, had been part of the
team that built it.
"We all lived out in the canyons for two and a half years while we built
that road." He said, telling us how rugged and wild and beautiful the
land was. "There are three bridges crossing the Colorado river, and
those were tough…" he trailed off. The lady behind the desk piped
up. "I did the drive once with him," she said nodding in his direction,
"and he talked the whole way. He had a story about
every mile of that road."
We left really excited to see this
scenic highway for ourselves. But our
first stop was at JM Welding. Jack,
the owner, understood exactly what
we wanted and said he could order
something like that and have it for us
tomorrow. "Or I can build one for you
right now that would be better quality
for about the same cost." Go for it!!
He grabbed a piece of chalk from his
pocket and drew an outline of a z-shaped
hitch extension on the shop's concrete
floor. Within moments his son had cut the
pieces and welded them. Jack powdered
coated it and cooked it for an hour while we chatted with Jed,
one of Jack's long-time customers who had just showed up.
"I'm really looking forward to driving that famous scenic Route
95 tomorrow," I said, making idle conversation. Jed looked at
me blankly. "Scenic road? There's a scenic road out
here?" I did a double-take. "You know, that Scenic Route
95. You take a right just a mile south of here…" He
scratched his head. "Oh, right…of course…oh yeah. I
drive that road all the time. It's pretty."
As we drove this magnificent road over the next two days,
our jaws dropping repeatedly at the stunning beauty around
us, we had to laugh. Utahans live in some of the most
spectacular scenery America has to offer, but I guess after
a while it becomes an ordinary backdrop for their lives.
In no time Jack had finished our hitch extension
and Mark mounted it on our trailer. Suddenly all
our fears of grinding our new bike rack into the
dust while boondocking down rough dirt roads
vanished.
Next morning, after a peaceful
night parked out behind Jack's
shop where fields of winter wheat
waved softly in the twilight and
dawn, we struck out on scenic
Route 95.
From red rock cliffs to exotic
pink-and-white striped swirling
rock formations to dramatic
descents into vivid green valleys,
we drove with our heads turning
constantly.
I literally hung
my whole
upper body out
the window a
few times to
snap photos at
55 mph.
The road swerved here and
there, curving deliciously
between cliffs and canyons.
Suddenly I saw a dirt road
scooting off to a wide flat
plateau. "Oh oh oh!!!" I
cried, not quite getting any
words out. "It's perfect!"
Mark skidded to a stop,
squeaked out a u-turn and
drove back. What a
sweetie!
Down the dirt road we went, bumping along to the most fabulous
and dramatic boondocking spot. There wasn't anyone around
us for at least five miles in any direction, and we had the
canyon, the cliffs and the sky to ourselves. That is the magic of
RVing in Utah. 50% of the state is public land, and you can
camp anywhere you dare to take your rig. It was so beautiful we
stayed for a few more days before exploring Natural Bridges
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While visiting central Utah on a recent summer day, my husband and I drove the Fish Lake Scenic Byway, one of the state’s many beautiful highways and byways that are officially (and rightfully) designated as “scenic.” This road, Utah Route 25 between Loa and Fish Lake, weaves and curves through pine tree studded hills and into thick aspen groves. A bike trail runs alongside the lake and we quickly unloaded our bikes to ride this waterfront path. We soon found ourselves jumping on and off our bikes to take in the views, smell the fragrant air and check out the thick carpets of wildflowers that rolled down to the shore.
Fish Lake Lodge is the centerpiece of the Fish Lake community. It is a wonderful old building made of logs and filled inside with trophy heads, an inviting fireplace and a large dining room that looks out over the lake. We were there in summertime, but the fireplace looked like it would be perfect for snowy winter evenings too.
Of course the main activity at Fish Lake is fishing, and it seemed everyone we saw was car
rying a fishing pole or a tackle box. A large family huddled around one of the fish cleaning stations near the Lodge, and two men busily carved up the day’s catch. The kids watched in fascination as one of the men sliced open the belly of a fish and then explained it was a female as he pulled out a fistful of eggs. The little girl scrunched up her face and squealed, “Gross!” while the boy next to her grinned, “That’s cool, Dad!”
The Fish Lake Scenic Drive lived up to its billing and each view around every bend was better than the last. The aspen shivered and shimmied their brilliant green leaves while the pointy dark green pines seemed to pierce the sky. First inhabited by mammoth hunters some 9,000 years ago, people have traveled through this area for a long time. A portion of the Old Spanish Trail, used by Utes and cowboys alike, wanders along the western side of the lake. Out of the corners of our eyes we both thought we spotted a train of horseback riders, but on second glance we saw it was a memorial sculpture in the middle of a field commemorating the Utes and settlers who traversed the Old Spanish Trail.
Notes from Kit Carson in 1848 described the shallow streams in the area as “swarming with fish.” Using just “an old bayonet fastened to a stick” he caught five dozen fish at sunrise in the icy water one morning. We didn’t see quite such plentiful fish, but we found the flower-strewn banks of the lake and streams teeming with butterflies. The warm summer air buzzed with busy insects, and seagulls cried in the distance.
Trading our bikes and helmets for our hiking shoes and camera gear, we strolled along the shore, watching the cormorants fishing and seagulls soaring overhead. The sun glinted freely off the glittering lake and the sun was hot on our backs. In contrast to all the activity of the creatures around the lake, the campgrounds along the shore were quiet and had plenty of vacancies.
Our refreshing mid-summer’s trip to this bucolic spot reminded us yet again that Utah’s scenic byways are always worthy of a detour.
At the top of Natural Bridges National Monument, Utah.
Some folks were put off by the
trail's wooden ladders.
Looking down is a bit unnerving!
The trail hugs a sheer canyon wall.
Barefoot tracks...
Dramatic cliffs and rock
formations everywhere
Full sized trees at the base of the cliffs.
Massive leaning walls are painted in vivid stripes.
Sipapu Bridge
Ladders...
…and carved stairs.
Striped cliff walls.
Kachina Bridge
Mark is dwarfed by Kachina Bridge.
Owachomo Bridge - delicate and soaring.
Owachomo Bridge.
The base of Owachomo Bridge.
"Bears Ears"
The Cheesebox.
Jacob's Chair.
Scenic Bicentennial Highway
Bridge over the Colorado.
Colorado River.
Scenic Overlook on the
Bicentennial Highway.
Ghost town Hite City lies underwater here.
The gods were messing with finger paints.
Scenic Route 24, Utah.
Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.
Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.
Natural Bridges and Utah's Bicentennial Highway
Early June, 2012 - After leaving Mesa Verde National Park we were
totally enthralled by the scenery that surrounded us on Utah's
Bicentennial Highway. This area is rich with exotic rock formations, and
three special ones are clustered at Natural Bridges National Monument.
While getting our hitch extension fabricated in Blanding we had learned
that our welder, Jack, had grown up playing among the bridge
formations before the modern park rules became so strict. "It was in
our backyard and we could camp anywhere in those days. I grew up
climbing all over those bridges."
Now it is a formal tourist attraction,
set aside and protected by the
government, with signs telling you all
the things you shouldn't do.
However, rather than having to scramble down scary drop-offs and wondering how the heck all
these formations got here, the National Park Service has built beautiful trails to the bridges and
offers all kinds of literature and books that explain everything about the geology, the wildlife, and
nature in general at their terrific visitors center.
Just like Canyon de Chelly where the canyons
are equally as stunning as the cliff dwellings, we
found the setting, the vistas and the hikes as
thrilling here as the bridges themselves. There
are only three natural rock bridges, but there is
an infinite number of spectacular views.
All together it's just four miles of hiking, but you
can skip doing your stair stepping workout on
the day you go. Each bridge hike is a nearly
vertical descent to the base of the bridge, and
then, after admiring it, you've gotta climb out. We quizzed
everyone we passed whether each hike was worth the
effort. Most said "Yes!" But one couple was put off by the
rickety looking wooden ladders. We found the ladders were
actually really fun! They're rock solid and shiny smooth
from thousands of hands and feet using them.
The trail to Sipapu bridge is
sandy and hugs a sheer canyon
wall. There are all kinds of
footprints from previous hikers,
but the ones that caught my eye
were the barefoot ones. I felt like
I was following an Indian. But it
was just someone wearing those
newfangled Vibram FiveFingers
shoes!
We scampered all over the place, soaking
up the towering cliffs and basking in the
silence. It is hard to imagine that the
immense natural force of flowing water
created these formations.
Many of the rocks are beautifully striped,
carefully painted in vibrant hues by
mother nature.
The size and scale was hard to
capture with the cameras,
especially trying to draw into the
lens that sensation of being
embraced by soaring cliffs and very
hot sun.
Mark got to the
Sipapu bridge
first, and when
he called back
to me his voice
echoed
wonderfully
between the
rocks. He let
out a few extra hoots
and whistles, enjoying
the effect. I hooted
and whistled back and
marveled at hearing
the sound perfectly
duplicated.
Climbing back out we noticed
how the Park Service has not
only installed fantastic Navajo
looking wooden ladders, but
has carefully sculpted out lots
of stairs in the rocks as well.
And we learned these bridges
were first found by Cass Hite in
1884 when he was searching for gold.
Kachina Bridge was up next, and
again we descended on a nearly
vertical path into a vibrant green
wash filled with trees and refreshingly
cool shade. The rocks here had
been painted in stripes too, and bird
songs echoed off the canyon walls as
they flitted from tree to tree.
We staggered around in the sandy wash at the base of the bridge, craning
our necks as we tried to take it all in. This bridge is thick and squat, and the
underside is decorated with scraggly petroglyphs. People have lived here
off-and-on for 9,000 years, including a few Mesa Verde cliff dwellers who
moved over here for a few generations around 1200 AD. This must have
been a great spot to while away the hottest summer hours back in the days
when air conditioning was unavailable and people entertained themselves
by pecking out images on rock walls.
The steep climbs and descents began to blend together in a
haze of sweaty huffing and puffing as we put one foot in front of
the other and hiked up and down the canyons.
The last bridge in the trio is
Owachomo Bridge. Where
Kachina Bridge had been thick
and massive, Owachomo was
thin and delicate.
Still mighty at its base, from a
distance the narrow stone
seemed almost wispy as it
soared across the expanse.
As we left Natural Bridges National
Monument we caught a glimpse of the
twin peaks the Indians called "Bears
Ears." What a perfect name!
Many rock formations, cliffs and mesas
around here often beg to be named
because their shapes are just so
familiar. The Bicentennial Highway
took us past the Cheesebox and
Jacob's Chair.
Back on the scenic Bicentennial Highway the views really got us excited as we
approached Glen Canyon and the Colorado River. I was practically jumping up
and down in my seat with excitement as the truck swept around one gorgeous
curve after another.
Mark just puttered along, patiently driving, while I whirled around from side to
side snapping hundreds of photos out the windows. I even climbed up to sit in
the truck window a few times to get pics over the roof. It is just that gorgeous!
This section of the road must have
been a huge challenge to construct,
and I kept thinking of Ferd Johnson
from the visitors center back in
Blanding who described living out in
these canyons for over two years
while building the highway and the
bridges across the river.
What a place to work!
We stopped at a scenic overlook after
crossing the river and learned that
when the river was dammed back in the
1960's, the new Lake Powell flooded
not only countless ancient Indian
settlements complete with artifacts,
petroglyphs and other priceless
treasures of humankind, but it flooded
an old mining ghost town as well. Hite
City had boomed when local miners got
"uranium on the cranium" and started
searching the area for "hot rocks." Now
the entire town lies underwater.
Back in Blanding, both our welder, Jack, and highway builder Ferd
told us they remembered this canyon vividly from the days before it
was filled with water. What an event it must have been when the
dam was completed to see the water rise against the cliffs and
transform the landscape.
Eventually the scenery along the Bicentennial Highway simmered
down to downright boring, and I settled down in my seat. From
Route 95 we turned west onto Route 24, and then the views began
to build yet again.
Swirling patterns filled
the rock landscape. It
seemed the gods had
gotten their hands
colorfully dirty, messing
around with finger
paints, and then had
smeared their prints
across the rocks.
We approached some
towering pale cliffs and
then found ourselves
deep in the heart of red
rock country.
We had arrived at Capitol Reef National Park. What a
spot! The bright green trees, burnt orange rocks and crisp
blue sky made a vivid feast for the eyes. We happily
agreed to settle in here and explore the area for a while.
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Getting to the US required 3 planes.
Bleeding Heart.
Saguaro cactus top in
bloom.
Starling chicks in a saguaro nest.
Mom takes good care of the babies in their fallen home.
A cardinal enjoys a
snack on our table.
The Mogollon Rim.
It's a little scary right at the edge, but
few can resist a shot.
Smoke from the Gladiator Fire approaches.
Wildfire smoke obscures the sun.
The awesome little paved rimside trail.
It's great to be alive.
Mogollon Rim.
Spring - a time for new growth.
An elk calf in the grass.
Woods Canyon Lake.
Jim Gray's Petrified Wood
Company.
Petrified logs ready for splitting.
Geodes ready for opening.
Dinosaur country!
They're cute, just don't get bit.
Petrified Forest National Park.
A tree trunk that has cracked into drums.
Agate House.
They built 'em small in 1200 AD
The National Park calls these rock structures "teepees."
Collared lizard on a petrified log.
Cows watch us approach.
Puerco Pueblo housed 1,200 people.
A stork carrying a baby, for sure!!
Santa Fe Railroad.
A rusting relic near the old Route 66.
Painted Desert.
Mogollon Rim & Petrified Forest National Park
April-May, 2012 - It took us a few days to decompress after our awe inspiring three
weeks in inland Chiapas. We had studied Spanish in colonial San Cristóbal, seen
Mayan ruins in Palenque, Yaxchilán and Bonampak, and visited sparkling waterfalls
at Agua Azul and Misol-Ha. But we had received alarming news while in the jungle
that Mark's parents had unexpectedly taken very ill. Their prognosis for survival had
become bleaker by the day.
We scrapped our plans to
sail 200 miles further to El
Salvador where a rollicking
annual rally of 50 boats was
in full swing, and instead
prepared our boat Groovy for a six month wait at Marina Chiapas while
we made a hasty retreat back to Mark's family homestead in Michigan.
It was jarring and disorienting to rejoin
modern American life after months of
immersion in southern Mexican culture.
Far more upsetting, however, was suddenly finding ourselves face-to-face with the specter of
death. We passionately pursue our dreams everyday, always feeling the immense pressure of
time, but now the grim reaper was at the door trying to collect. For days we huddled inside the
drab sterile walls of a modern health care facility trying to be positive while pondering the
incomprehensible.
Fortunately, spring was in full bloom outside. Flowers were bursting with
color everywhere, and flowering trees seemed to grace every front yard.
Every time we stepped outside we were greeted by the cheerful image
of tulips, a heartwarming flower neither of us had seen for years.
Very gradually, and totally miraculously, both of Mark's parents began to
recover and were able to return home. As they gained strength we did
too, and the dark, raw emotions in our hearts began to ease. Out in a
friend's garden a cluster of bleeding hearts reminded us that often the
most precious things in life are also the most fragile, and that life itself is
a gift we receive every day.
When we eventually returned to our own hometown in Phoenix, Arizona, we
found spring had sprung there too. Our beloved saguaro cactuses were
wearing their little springtime crowns of white flowers on every limb.
Just a few weeks earlier an ancient saguaro in a friend's
yard had died and toppled over. It now held the fledgling
chicks of a starling that had moved into her condo when
the cactus was still upright.
Despite living in a house that was now eight inches from the ground,
not a great spot for a small bird, she bravely got those chicks raised to
adolescence, and in no time they had all moved out.
We got our trailer out of storage, dusted it off, and set up camp at
nearby Roosevelt Lake. Still recovering from all that had gone on, and
feeling a bit battle weary, we reveled in watching a cardinal come to
our little seed plate every day. We could have stayed for a month, but unfortunately the desert temps
were climbing and soon became intolerable.
Fortunately, just 80 miles north of Phoenix we found ideal temps
up on the Mogollon Rim (pronounce "Mugeeyone"). At 7500'
we were in the cool pines, and we found a camping spot right on
the edge of the rim with views to the valley floor far below.
The rim is a jagged shelf of flat rocks that stick out in layers.
The views are expansive and the smell of the ponderosa pines
is invigorating. There is something about the edge of the rim
that is very alluring and draws people to it, even though the
sheer drop-off is a little unnerving. At all the scenic overlooks
everyone gets out of their cars and walks right out to the edge
to take in the view and get a photo.
While we were there four huge forest fires were
burning in the valley below us. The Gladiator Fire
made the national news, and we saw the hotshot
firefighting team's base camp nearby. Firefighters
had been flown in from all over the country to help
out, and some 1,000 people were fighting the
blaze. The smoke was intense
at one point, and it billowed
over us like a huge wave.
That evening the sun was
almost totally obscured by the
smoke. But the hotshots
managed to wrestle all the
fires under control, and in just
a few days the air was clear
again.
We discovered a wonderful
paved trail that runs along the
edge of the rim for a few miles.
Luckily for us, it had just been
lengthened by a mile. The edge of the rim
is magical, and at every rock outcropping
we found ourselves stopping to get another
look. This same trail also heads into the
forest towards Woods Canyon Lake where
it weaves past several campgrounds. We
rode our bikes along the trail and savored
the crisp air and pretty views.
Spring was happening up here too. The
pines were all adorned with their new
feathery soft needles, and we found flowers
that looked like wild irises growing in a
meadow.
We passed a mother elk
sitting under a tree
chewing her cud. Nearby
her young calf was
hanging out chewing its
cud too. They were
totally indifferent to our
presence -- or to that of
the cars that had started
to stack up in the road as
everyone grabbed their
cameras and jumped out
for photos. We stood
there for quite some time
watching the mouths of
these two large animals slowly working around and
around while their gazes wandered calmly between us
and the cars. It was as if they were kids hanging around
at the street corner, chewing gum, and waiting for
something to happen.
Woods Canyon Lake is cool and serene, surrounded
by pines. Families were out fishing and an energetic
guy rowed a skull back and forth.
We stayed in this beautiful mountain forest
for two weeks, settling into our homestead
as if it were our own private mountain home.
Every day we ran, biked and walked. Then
we read, napped, played on the internet and
watched the boob tube, something we hadn't
done for eight months. Isn't it amazing, we
kept saying to each other, that we can get 12
Phoenix digital TV stations via our antenna
and good internet from our nifty new Verizon
MiFi unit, while we are camped several miles
down a dirt road deep in the woods on the
edge of a cliff?!
It was hard to leave, but once we
got the wheels rolling on our
buggy, we couldn't wait to get out
and see our beautiful country. Our
first stop was the Petrified Forest
National Park. Actually, we
stopped just before the National
Park because the guy who owns
the vast acreage next door has
been mining petrified logs from as
deep as 30' down in the ground for
decades, and the collection he has
on display and for sale at his store
"Jim Gray's Petrified Wood Company" is astonishing.
Petrified logs are created when a log gets buried in sediment, preventing rot, and then becomes
infiltrated by silica in the groundwater, replacing its organic material. This stuff eventually
crystallizes and "petrifies" the whole log. Over time, as erosion peels the ground out from under
the log, it cracks into short drum-shaped pieces that for all the world look like they are ready for
splitting.
We wandered through the
endless display of petrified logs
and even found a pile of geodes
out back. This pile stood almost
10' tall and maybe 30' around at
the base. What a treasure trove!
This is also dinosaur country,
and the local gift shops have all
kinds of fun making crazy
displays for tourists. Mark found
a few out by the geodes.
Petrified Forest National Park is an easy park to miss
inadvertently because it sits on a road that cuts between an
Arizona highway and an interstate. We had made that mistake
years ago. We had driven along at 55 mph waiting to see a
Forest, and we skipped the pullouts because there was no
evidence there was any Forest there. After an hour we emerged
at the other end of the park having seen nothing but wide plains
and a few scattered logs in the distance. That goof-up has been
a standing joke between us ever since.
The only way to see this national park is to get out
and do some hikes. The hilly field behind the
visitors center is strewn with huge logs, many
resting in a row and fitting together to make an
entire tree trunk. These things are massively heavy
and are 8 times harder to cut than granite. From a
distance the crystalized bark, knots and tree rings
look lifelike, but up close the agate colors merge
and swirl in non-treelike patterns.
We hiked on the Long Logs trail which features one tree
trunk after another, each one segmented into shorter
logs that lie end-to-end. Looking around the sweeping,
empty, grassy plains it is hard to imagine that 260 million
years ago this area was a logjam in an ancient riverbed,
back when all the continents were joined and Arizona's
latitude was somewhere around modern day Panama.
13 species of large but extinct pines forested the area.
Out at the Agate House we
found an ancient Indian
pueblo made of petrified
wood pieces. Archaeologists
believe it was constructed
between 1050 and 1300 AD.
Those guys built very small
buildings.
The trail took us past tall,
horizontally striped "sand
piles" that are now solid
stone. It looked like a gravel
yard that had been carefully
layered in different types of gravel. The heights of the
dark stripes matched from one pile to the next. There is
an otherworldly quality to this landscape.
As we walked back to the
truck Mark spotted a collared
lizard sitting on a hunk of
petrified wood. His little pink
mouth seemed to be grinning,
and his long skinny tail trailed
almost twice his body length
behind him.
This is cattle ranching country
too, and before we could get
to the petrified log that spans a chasm -- the Agate Bridge -- we had to
get past a group of cows standing in the middle of the road. These
guys didn't move an inch as we drove past. Only their heads turned to
watch us as our enormous truck and trailer nearly brushed them when
we drove by.
The Puerco Pueblo hike took us to an ancient Indian settlement built
around 1250 AD. It was home to some 1,200 people. 6'x8' was a typical
room size, and unlike the mammoth Mayan and Zapotec buildings we'd
seen a few thousand miles to the south, these ruined walls have been
reconstructed to
just a foot in height.
Far more intriguing
for us were the
petroglyphs that the
ancients had
pecked into the nearby rocks. One showed what
looked to me like a stork carrying a baby. I'm sure
the archaeologists would disagree about that, but
these images are often a bit like ink blots -- what
you see in them is up to you.
The park road crosses I-40 and deposits visitors in
the middle of the Painted Desert. But first you get a glimpse of the
Santa Fe railroad and some relics of the old Route 66. While we
were wandering the hiking trails closest to I-40 we kept hearing
the horns and rumbles of endlessly long trains rolling past. I
climbed up on a bridge overlooking the tracks and caught a train
as it approached. Running to the other side I watched it
disappear around the bend. These tracks date back to 1882
when the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad went through. Early visitors
to the park arrived by train and took guided tours hosted by the
Fred Harvey company.
Mark was fascinated by an ancient rusting hulk of a car
that had been abandoned long ago on the side of the
old Route 66. Stretching 2,200 miles from Chicago to
Los Angeles, that historic road passed right through
this area, bringing tourists to the park in their own
private cars instead of by train. Now this part of Route
66 is overgrown by prairie grasses.
Our final miles along the park road
took us past some incredible vistas
overlooking the Painted Desert. This is
a colorful area of more gravel-pit
looking solid stone "sand piles," and
we had taken so long
getting through the park
that we arrived while the
late afternoon sun was
lighting the vivid
landscape to its most
brilliant hues. Gazing out
at this exotic land, the
sun beating down on us
and our sinuses rapidly
shriveling up in the dry air, it was hard to imagine what the ancients or the early
settlers must have thought or how they even survived. So harsh and yet so
beautiful.
By now our spirits were fully restored. As we studied our maps we decided to
head north via the tiny squiggle labeled "Indian Route 12" and head towards
Canyon de Chelly National Park. This road was marked as a scenic route
but despite being Arizona residents before our traveling lifestyle we had never
heard of it before.