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We've arrived in Flossmoor in South Chicago, a comfortable, green suburb, and everything is well with all of us. Our lovely family has welcomed us and made us feel special, and we are settling down to an evening of reminiscences and videos.Tomorrow we'll get down to exploring Chicago. Today we are savouring the achievement of arriving, and of being people who have crossed the Mississipi and the Missouri... :-)
(The image is from Rock Art ranch and is thought to have signified the end, or don't go any further)
I was struck by this simple, short saying today as we toured the Iowan Capitol building. It is inscribed above the entrance to the legislative law library and set me thinking. How relevant it is to our days, as we debate and wrestle with the issue of containing various groups of people who do not believe in secular law, and who appear to wish to tyrannise us with their ideas about religious law. And how do we protect ordinary men, women and children from violently-inclined individuals, without compromising fundamental rights and laws - we are all confident that torture and violence to individuals is wrong (and the discussion about whether to try and punish officials in the US who seemed to have been complicit in such violations is going on right now here), but we waiver and wonder about how long to detain people without trial, the issue of whether ID cards are a good or a bad idea and so on. My ex-colleague Javed Iqbal has been commenting on the round up of some students from Pakistan in the UK (http://www.chaudhryjavediqbal.net/2009/04/might-is-not-always-right-apologise-and.html). So a visit to the State legislature provided a moment for reflection, and to be honest, a moment to admire the commitment there is in the USA to their democratic institutions. I never feel this in the UK.
Des Moines is a city of bricks and civic blossom. Even the rather amazing ornate Capitol building which is faced with sandstone, granite and limstone, is actually constructed of bricks underneath! LP probably has it about right: Bill Bryson's home town doesn't have that much to offer in the way of excitement. It's a quiet, plain sort of place and not much seems to be going on, except eager bus loads of Iowan schoolkids visiting their state's seat of government. The Capitol building, with its gold leaf covered dome, is a grand late 19th Century building (built between 1871 and 1884). Various decorative impulses have been given full rein, for example: a big mural commemorating the arrival of pioneers to Iowa (no sign of previous indigenous Iowan dwellers, though) statues representing disciplines such as History, Science, Law and qualities such as Fame, Truth and Progress, ornamental tiles, a neoclassical frieze above the entrance, mogul type turrets, and so it goes on. The library is a sumptuous example of late Victorian craft and industry, with a lot of iron grill work, including two spiral staircases at either end to connect the four tiers of the library together. A strange, eerie exhibit is a glass case full of dolls with identical faces, but variously coloured hair, each wearing a replica of a state first lady's outfit: the current first lady doll stands out front, and the rest are arranged in date order from 1846 onwards.
After this tour, we ventured back into town, taking the sky walk which seems to connect downtown together in wide, grey-carpeted glass corridors punctuated every now and then by automatic doors as you go from one section of the corridor to another. The sky walk explains why few people are seen at street level, although even at sky walk level, there aren't exactly crowds of people. As we walked along looking for somewhere to eat lunch, we variously expected to see Crichton from Red Dwarf, or to espy the characters of Metropolis. It was all rather strange. To complete our visit to Des Moines, we visited the Des Moines Art Center Downtown branch, where there was an interesting exhibit by three Iowan artists, including Peter Chen and Timothy Wehrle (http://www.desmoinesartcenter.org/exhibitions/ex_downtown.html)
Yes, we had the thrill of crossing the wide Missouri today on our journey to Des Moines from Kearney, Nebraska, a distance of approximately 300 miles. I enjoyed the gentle rolling countryside of Iowa with its brown ploughed and furrowed fields, following the contours of the land, contrasted with some smaller fields of early green crops (I don't know if this is corn or wheat country). There are scattered, pretty, old fashioned farmhouses adjacent to neat farm buildings, beside copses of trees, kept as windbreak or shade, just now coming into leaf. Some farms have a few fruit trees in full blossom. Another straightforward day. We more or less stayed on Interstate 80 until we got to Des Moines. Here we intend to allow ourselves a little time to savour Bill Bryson's home town, before setting off on our last leg to Flossmoor, Chicago on Thursday.
We entered CST today. We left Denver at about 10:00 am MST (daylight saving), and drove steadily along the I 76 and then the I 80 until we arrived at Kearney, Nebraska at about 4:45 pm CST. We have covered over 360 miles since we left our hotel this morning, and have taken a good chunk out of our journey to Chicago. It has been an uneventful journey, with a start under a grubby, saggy blanket of clouds covering the entire sky, and snow in every direction. As we arrived in Nebraska, the cumulus clouds broke up into large puffs sailing in blue skies, and the landscape was green: arable farming alternating with cattle grazing in fields. We are monitoring the news about the flu pandemic and various weather alerts, but in case anyone is anxious, we are all well and we'll be having a dull evening: after a quick foray to the supermarket at the other end of town to replenish our fresh fruit and beer stocks, we'll get a bite to eat, and retire to read our new books and/or watch rubbishy TV.
On this, Dike's birthday, we have woken up to a steady fall of snow in Denver, with several inches already lying on the ground - to my utter astonishment. This is the end of April! We shall not be in a hurry to drive out, although I see that weather is kinder the further East we go. Thank goodness we decided against trying to visit Yellowstone :-)
We have spent a thoroughly urban day, and as we left the city centre this evening to return to our hotel, it rained heavily, removing the last traces of the dust that had coated the car since we turned off the paved road to visit Rock Art Ranch over a week ago: washing away the dust of the West, as it were, as we face the Eastward road tomorrow morning, all 1004 miles of it.
Our Denver city day started with free parking opposite Union Station (my reasoning for choosing that spot, apart from its free-ness was that we knew we could find the car again!), and a stroll down the pedestrianised 16th street in bright sunshine, though coolish temperatures. We fell upon the Tattered Cover Book Store (www.tatteredcover.com) with cries of delight - it is a heavenly bookstore, extremely well stocked in all subjects, with lots of polished wood, and soft seats everywhere so you can settle down and read or browse for as long as you like. Naturally we spent time there and did a little shopping, though remained reasonably mindful of the fact that books bought would have to be carried home to the UK! If you ever go to Denver, just put this bookshop on your list of must visits.
Dragging ourselves away reluctantly, we stopped off for a Starbucks, sitting on the sidewalk: it seemed an appropriate Sunday morning thing to do in Denver! For a good slice of the afternoon we were at the Denver Art Museum (www.denverartmuseum.org) where we were lucky to stumble upon a free admission day and a Mexican cultural festival with Mariachi music and dancing on the street and inside the performance area of the museum. Although DAM does not display an enormous collection, it is well displayed and substantial, and you can't appreciate everything in one visit, so I concentrated on Western American Art, American Indian Art, European and American Art, and Modern and Contemporary Art. There is also a small collection of African art - a few traditional objects and a few contemporary paintings. I thoroughly enjoyed the visit: perhaps the highlight for me was the collection of American Indian pottery, modern and traditional, and I now covet one of Maria Martinez' black on black pots. Maria Martinez (1884-1980) was from the Pueblo cultural tradition in New Mexico and rediscovered an ancient craft of creating jet black pottery, delicately decorated. The pieces are beautifully executed and remarkable. I can't find a non-copyrighted image of her pottery on the web to show you, but if you browse her pottery's website, you'll get the idea: www.mariajulianpottery.com
Our final venture was to visit the Denver Museum of Contemporary Art which is housed in a new building designed by the British Architect David Adjaye (b. 1966 of Ghanaian extraction). This is his first public building in the USA and has led to other commissions. The spaces for display are enclosed in a grey glass box, which somehow works: we decided we liked the building, and we were extremely kindly received there. When I explained that we'd come especially to see the building, we were given free admission and were able to have a quick stroll around the galleries. There are some Damien Hirsts among other things.
We have satisfied our thirst for urban living, and we are ready to hit the road. Des Moines (and other places), here we come.
Little Green River seems a million miles away (though it's actually about 340 miles away). We left it in sunshine and comparative warmth (temperatures in the sixties F). Now we are shivering in temperatures in the mid forties, and encountered fog, sleet and temperatures close to freezing as we traversed the Rockies today. The I70 is a magnificent - scenically speaking - route, leading you through narrow gorges and high plateaux
with the steep, snow capped mountains, many of them smart ski destinations on either side, and always the road hugs the edges of one or other of the various waterways of the Colorado river system: the Colorado itself, the White River (a major tributary), the Eagle river and the Fall river. Scenically speaking, yes, but it is a road afflicted by lumps and bumps, and nasty little ridges that catch your tyres. I am getting quite fond of my little Chrysler Cruiser, as it twinkles at you when you hit the unlock button, and tries to tune the radio to a station it thinks I would like (fat chance as I can't find any station that I can bear to listen to), and it is quite a game little car. But these lumps and bumps were too much for it, as the stream of hurrying monsters with enormous tyres and gas gobbling engines cruised by. We went at our own decorous speed across the Rockies, but the state of Interstate 70 got me thinking about the enormous expense of maintaining this vast country's network of roads, many of them exposed, like I70, to extremes of temperature and stormy weather conditions. What will happen if the economy can't pick up enough to support the roads? Already schools in Arizona are laying off qualified teachers, and sales taxes seem to hitting the roof to make up for all sorts of shortfalls. A country like this relies on its roads to keep the country connected; and the culture of the road - motels, fast food outlets, mobile homes and RVs for example - is so pervasive, and indeed so integral to the whole restless American identity, and has been, I suspect, since the European occupation of these lands. Today as we passed through places like Grand Junction, ate our picnic lunch in a rest area at No Name, sitting peacefully beside the Colorado or White River (not sure), I was much preoccupied
in trying to imagine how those Westward bound traders, settlers, fortune-seekers, and other restless minds responded to the strange landscapes they encountered. What did they make of White Water Canyon, or the Red Canyon near Bryce... or Bryce itself? Perhaps they were so focused on survival that they seldom lifted up their heads to survey the wonders around them. I met a couple from North Carolina yesterday who said: "Western towns sure are rather ramshackle." Even today people are focused on t
he pragmatic and survival through harsh winters and harsh summers. It's pretty harsh in Denver. It is very cool, and we are having to adjust to this fast urban life! However we are comfortably settled in our hotel, and have managed to find our way to a nearby multiplex to see a movie. Tomorrow we will try to find the art galleries.
Another day of extraordinary landscapes, as we drove first to Capitol Reef National Park near Torrey, Utah. The route via Tropic and Escalante along UT 12 is very picturesque. The Capitol Reef park is another national gem. It takes its name from an enormous grey dome-like rock which resembles the shape of the capitol dome in Washington. The huge rocky "reef" is "a giant sinuous wrinkle in the earth's crust", known as the Waterpocket Fold. It has strange formations that look man made in places. Running beside and between these rocky formations is the river Fremont, which waters a charming valley where early Mormons built a community and planted fruit trees at a place they called Fruita. You can see some preserved old buildings, and the fruit trees. We had a picnic lunch sitting beside the river, admiring the fruit trees and the aspens. There are a number of walking trails, but we didn't have time today to try any of them out as we still had quite a big drive ahead of us. We did stop to view some petroglyphs which were charming but you couldn't really get close enough to them to see them well: we have been thoroughly spoiled by Brantley and Vaughn.As we drove out along the UT 24, between Torrey and Hanksville, we encountered a grey cement coloured landscape - alternating between rough squarish formations that look as though they have been turned out with giant buckets and spades, and roundish heaps. It is an earth-based moonscape, no question, and half way along we saw the only sign of life: a gift shop and cafe called the Lunar Mesa. From Hanksville to Green River is a smooth, straight ride, quite a relief after a whole day of driving "scenic byways" with switchbacks , ascents and descents making progress slow, though the scenery was wonderful.Here Green River is a sort of way stop on the I 70. However the river itself is really charming and we are staying beside it. I had a swim in the pool, and then read in the hot tub for 30 minutes (where you exchange travel stories with your fellow guests!!), before going off with the lads to find something to eat. We have had a nice evening in our Family Room, planning an early start for the 350 odd miles to Denver. In Denver we plan to do urban things, like an art gallery or a movie. We are all scenery-ed out for the time being: our senses are reeling at the sights we have seen and we can't appreciate any more. This means we are not going to try to squeeze in the Arches or Canyonlands parks. I know I shall regret missing them, but you just cannot do everything, and that's a fact!PS. We saw two real cowboys on horseback, complete with hats and lariats, rounding up their cattle on the road on our travels today.
I need to say a word about blossom in Utah. As we drove towards Bryce Canyon through little towns like Muddy Creek, Ordersville, Glendale and Hatch, in every garden there were trees crusted in white and pale pink blossom. They should have good apple and cherry crops this year.
But there is a mystery tree which I have seen only in Kanab, where it is everywhere; everywhere, yet no-one can tell me what it is. The information officer said she had one in her yard, it doesn't seem to have fruits and she has no idea what it could be. It's very spectacular - that's all I can say - with its riot of mauve blossom. We have a couple in our hotel car park, even.
The scenery I have encountered in Arizona and Utah is so unearthly in its rock formations and its colour palette, that I think that if I woke up tomorrow in Mekonta, capital of Northern Venus, my eyes would not be surprised. Perhaps Chad Varah, Frank Hampson and his team visited these parts before they drew and painted the stories of space exploration in the Eagle - those stories and images that so enraptured Patrick and me in the fifties. Today the feeling of fantasy was heightened further, as we trekked the Navajo Trail at Bryce Canyon. Technically Bryce is not a canyon, but a long high plateau that is continuously being eroded into fantastical shapes, known as hoodoos: it is a rapidly changing landscape as hoodoos "die" (or get washed away) and new hoodoos get "born". This genuinely amazing place took its name prosaically from a guy called Bryce who happened to build his log cabin near the entrance. When asked about the wonders of the land lying directly behind his house his comment was simply: " It's a hell of a place to lose a cow" !
Bryce is quite a bit higher in altitude than Zion or Kanab (pronounced K'nab, by the way), and so there were pockets of snow in many parts of the park, and quite a lot at Rainbow Point, the furthest place we reached in our visit. Like Zion and Grand Canyon National Parks, Bryce is equally well-organised with shuttle buses in season (not until May, so we didn't avail ourselves of these, but drove to the areas we wanted to visit), and well marked trails of various levels of difficulty. We chose the "moderate" level Navajo trail, because we've already established that we can do these easily, even the steep ascents and descents, and because it has some spectacular viewpoints and features, such as arched hoodoos. It was a very pleasant trek, and we could have done more. Instead we elected to visit each of the most important "rim" viewpoints to ensure that we had a good overall feel for the whole strange, but beautiful rocky feature.
Arriving back at Kanab, we decided to eat well tonight and went to Parry Lodge, the little motel used by all the old Western stars in the olden days. It's a white ranch like building with a nice-ish restaurant, complete with fans, lace curtains and an old time feel about it. They served me a glass of undrinkable red wine - like communion wine - which I politely sent back and had beer instead. There is a drinkable pilsner brewed in Salt Lake City - only 4% but most beer available in Utah is "lite".
We are all in good form and getting ready for our drive further north tomorrow. We hope to visit Capitol Reef National Park on our way to Glen River. James is in charge of maps, and I just drive when required :-)
Our day started at the Kanab visitor centre where a most helpful information officer (from Southampton, but has lived in the USA for 40 years, and in Kanab for 16 years), gave us all we needed to plan our two days in this vicinity, maps, brochures, advice, all clear and to the point. I was very impressed.And so the first wonder of the day was the coral pink sand of the Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park, just a few miles north of Kanab. We didn't spend long, but the sand dunes were indeed pink, and in the morning light criss-crossed with the footprints and trails of many different creatures: different bird claws, hoofed creatures, dog paws of course, and the slithery marks of snakes perhaps. After sitting on a sand dune contemplating this vast expanse (and resource, for many activities are allowed here, as well as nature conservancy: there is an area set aside for children with buckets and spades, another for off road vehicles etc), we set off on our travels again, to Zion National Park.I think Zion will be one of my favourite parks on this trip. You enter the canyon through a 1.1 mile narrow tunnel which was completed in 1930, and is no longer big enough for two lines of traffic given the size of some of the things driven here. So you go through in batches, one direction at a time. It's an unlit, winding tunnel, with the odd "window" looking out on the canyon (but you are not allowed to stop and look!); I felt as though I was going into the womb of this enormous red, grey and cream cliffed canyon. It's rocky features are very dramatic and very varied, but through the canyon, snakes the green Virgin river, the valley floor is verdant and wooded, while along the sides of the canyon a number of pretty wild flowers grow, attracting a variety of butterflies. It is accessible, too, unlike the Grand Canyon which can be daunting. The same shuttle bus system operates but here you are shuttled up the valley, or floor, of the canyon, and not along its rim. There are many trails for hiking at all levels of difficulty and distance. We took the shuttle to the furthest point: "Temple of Sinawava" and then returned to Zion Lodge to take a short (1-2 hour) hike up the side of the canyon to Emerald Waters. The ascent on these paths is nothing like as steep as the trek we took at Grand Canyon, but still very rewarding. There are three pools, a lower, a middle and an upper. We all three went to the middle pool, and while James and Oksy went the further 0.3 mile ascent to the upper pool, I elected to stay and savour the beauty and tranquillity alone for 20 minutes. Then we all descended by way of the lower pool and waterfalls, which we walked behind, enjoying the slight spray as the temperatures were into the nineties F. today. Rocky drama apart, water is what makes Zion National Park a special and lovely place: you hear the river rushing by most of the time, and when you don't hear the river, you hear little falls of water spilling down its sides to join the river. It has a green valley that comforts and cools your eyes after the heat of flame-coloured rock.
We have spent much of the day getting from Grand Canyon AZ to Kanab, UT, travelling through stunning scenery. We stopped at various points along the way simply to gaze in awe at red and ochre cliffs, buttes, pink and grey desert lands, charming pine forests, snow capped mountains, and rolling plains of sage coloured scrub - the route up via Cameron's Trading post to Jacob's Lake and thence to Fredonia and Kanab is not to be missed. When we got to tiny Jacob's Lake, we found that the North Rim of the Grand Canyon won't be open until May, and the road in is closed, so we sat down in the little motel, cafe and shop, and had our lunch there, sitting up at the counter in the old American style which pleased the three of us mightily. Arriving in Kanab, a pleasant little town with well tended fields and homes, we checked in at about 5:00 pm local time, and later had a decent evening meal at Grandma Tina's cafe, which serves home cooked Italian style food, and can rustle up a glass of wine (for me) and a glass of beer for Oksy (but only when he produced ID to show he was over 21 years of age - this is Utah, after all!).Before leaving the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, we made a couple of stops to see some of the older viewpoints we'd not covered before: Grand View, the site of the old copper mining operation, and Desert View, established as a tourist attraction by Fred Harvey of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad company - a great entrepreneur who practically invented tourism in the American West. He employed Mary Elizabeth Jane Colter (1869-1958) to design a number of focal points for tourists. Born in the east, but exposed to travel on the western frontier by her father at an early age, she studied at the California School of Design in San Franciso and then got her job with Fred Harvey in 1901. She designed La Posada (where we had dinner the other night), Hermit's Rest (a sort of folly and gift shop at the Western end of the South Rim of the Grand Canyon), Phantom Ranch deep in the Canyon, and about 30 other projects including the Watchtower at Desert View, which we enjoyed visiting this morning.The history of the American West is so rich in interesting, creative, highly educated and brilliant individuals. Mary Colter deserves study. Each of her projects was so carefully researched and excuted lovingly with great craft and artistry, avoiding kitsch, which must have been a risk in the kind of projects she undertook. And as I think of Mary Colter, I remember Sarah Lemmon who got to the top of Mount Lemmon in 1881 with the help of Native American guides and mules: I have not been able to discover more about her but do imagine a female botanist striking out in the "Wild West" on her own at the time bad old Tombstone was at its most disreputable...!
Which brings me onto another intriguing character: George W. Parsons (1850-1933). Born in Washington and groomed for the family law business, this restless soul had several odd careers, before he rolled up unemployed in Tombstone in 1880. He's well-known because of his diaries which cover people like the Earps, and events like the gunfight at the OK Corral. But he was also a keen amateur dramatics man, as far as I can make out, and he became Tombstone's first librarian in 1885 - he must have been a real mover and shaker in Tombstone's cultural life. He left Tombstone in 1887 when it started to decline and ended his days in California. What did he do next , I wonder.We are all fit and well and plan to have a look at Zion National Park tomorrow.
Serious hikers and mule riders set off very early at the Grand Canyon, to get a good way on their treks and rides before it gets too hot. We are not as a team early risers I find, but that's fine, we work around this. One thing we are blessed with so far is perfect Arizona weather. It can be quite cold at night and rises to temperatures in the seventies in the afternoon. Park officials tell us we are extremely lucky to be here now: perfect weather combined with a slight lull in visitor numbers now that the Easter season is over. It's true. There are lots of other visitors, but not too many: we've not had to queue for anything, we've been able to get seats on all the shuttle buses we chose to get on, our chosen walking trails were not crowded with other people.
We sorted ourselves out with water and granola bars, and recalling how cold Canyon de Chelly had been, we all packed what proved to be redundant, warm clothing in the one backpack we shared. Once we'd parked our car at the South Rim Visitor Centre parking lot, we caught a shuttle bus to South Kaibab Trailhead, and set off into the canyon ... for a little way. The South Kaibab trail is a well maintained trail, used by parties of mule riders to go further into the canyon. You descend very rapidly, about 600 feet down a steep path, arriving after about 2 miles at Ooh Aah Point, with fabulous views of the canyon East and West. We elected to turn round at that point and climb back up - as it is so steep, you are advised to allow about twice the time to get back up as it took you to get down, and I certainly did with relish, stopping here and there to sip my bottle of water and pause in the shade of rocks. It was a memorable worthwhile walk, and we might have done a bit more, had we come with proper walking gear. We had taken advice by the way,and been assured that we could easily trek to the first point in trainers. On getting back up to the rim, we stopped at Yaki point and then took the shuttle bus to the Market Plaza where we purchased a picnic lunch and ate it on a picnic table nearby.
For the afternoon, we decided to hit as many of the scenic viewpoints on the Western end of the rim as possible, so we took the shuttle bus to Hermit's rest, stopping off at a few places like "The Abyss" ( we couldn't resist it when the driver said: "Next stop, the Abyss." Then we walked along the rim trail for part of the way back to the car park. By this time it was nearly 6:00 pm. We went back to the hotel where I went to the Exercise room for a short workout and then we went out for a cheap dinner. We are now all ensconced in our room, drinking beer from our cold box and watching TV. We all feel we've given the South Rim of the Grand Canyon the best go we could in the time available. Now to peep at the North Rim ... and then Utah, here we come.
On Sunday, Paulita and I crossed the road from Motel 6 to buy doughnuts, juice and strawberries for breakfast (the hotel supplied coffee). Once everyone had roused and been fed, we set off through Winslow, which is an interesting, historical little western town, with an old fashioned cinema in an early twentieth century building, which interests Paulita.
We set off for the Meteor Crater, which is not far from Winslow. This is one of about 150 known meteor craters in the world, and is regarded as one of the best preserved, most complete, and was actually the first to be proved. It is rather a strange feeling to sit on the edge of a meteor crater and wonder what fell from the sky and what impact it had. In fact this crater was probably made about 50,000 years ago, and we do know what sort of material hit it, as there is quite a big lump surviving in the visitor centre. We spent about an hour and then said good bye to Chidi, Kate, Paulita, Zaria and Freya with lots of hugs and kisses and admonishments to take care of our various selves. I was a bit overcome and tearful, to my shame. It was partly because I'd felt so at home and comfortable with Chidi and his family and didn't want to leave them, and perhaps a little of that feeling that we were off into the big wide world...! It's a long, long way to Chicago.
James, Oksy and I drove off however with our hearts full of anticipation. After all it is not everyone who gets to see the Grand Canyon (though apparently 6,400 car loads a day do ...!). As we drove towards Flagstaff, we saw one place called Two Guns, and another called Twin Arrows: our mood lifted. Who's wouldn't? Soon we arrived at a National Park called Walnut Canyon, and decided to take a quick look. It proved to be well worth a look as the sides of the canyon are riddled with ancient dwellings set into the cliffs. Spectacular. After a shortish stroll along the rim of the canyon, we set off again, stopping at Flagstaff for a fast food lunch, and then following a very scenic route among pine trees with glimpses of snow capped Humphrey's Peak (12633 feet) to our right.
We arrived at Tusayon village (which is 1 mile from the Grand Canyon South Rim Park Entrance Gate) at 3:45 pm, and checked into our hotel, probably the poshest we'll stay in on this trip. As soon as we'd dropped our luggage, we drove up to the Grand Canyon, using our newly acquired annual National Park Pass ( $80 for up to 3 adults for a year, but worth it for us on this trip as the Grand Canyon alone would have cost $25 for entries, Bryce will cost another $25 and there are various smaller National Parks we'll look at on the way, like Walnut Canyon, which cost around $10 or $20. Best of all I can post it to Chidi and Kate as I've left a signature space for them and they can use it until April next year).
Entering the Grand Canyon South Rim area, everything is very organised and managed, but not in an intrusive or horrible way. They have so many visitors a year, that they have had to develop systems to cope. One of these is their shuttle bus system which provides regular buses all day from one viewing point on the South Rim to another. There are trails all along the South Rim and a number of trails into the Canyon. To get right down into the Canyon requires proper equipment, fitness levels, and time: you can't get down and back in one day. This first evening we walked along the rim, to and from the Yavapai Observation post from Mather point (about 1.4 miles), took photos of the sunset and of a cooperative deer, and then went for dinner at the Arizona Room of Bright Angel Lodge. This is written up in LP as one of the places to eat, because you sit beside windows with great canyon views in the departing sunlight, and there is supposed to be good food at modest prices. The views are great, but the food was disappointingly mediocre and the prices were not as cheap as we expected - partly because everything has a really hefty sales tax of 9.9% in Arizona at present. It didn't really matter. We were feeling mellow and privileged. We drove down to Tusayon in the pitch dark and had a good night's sleep.
On Saturday 18th April, We managed to get our convoy of two cars ready and off by about 8:30 or so. My hired Chrysler Cruiser contained me, James, Oksy and Chidi, our luggage, a small cooler box filled with beer, water and some little packs of apple juice, while the other hire car, now on its way to be returned to Show Low, contained Kate, Paulita, and the two girls. This time we didn't miss the road to Globe and made smart time on the first leg, so smart that Kate who was leading, decided not to stop there as planned, but to press on for Show Low, another 80 miles over the Apache reservation and the salt River Canyon, the site of our car trouble the previous week. I had planned to fill up my car at Globe, and it was slightly against my better judgement that we decided to follow our leader. We had a glorious drive over Salt River Canyon with a stop for views and leg stretches half way. Then, suddenly my fuel indicator light went on, 40 miles away from Show Low: we got nervous, and so I overtook Kate, and took the lead, thanking my stars that from the top of the canyon, it's almost all down hill to Show Low! Then like a miracle, we rounded a bend and there in the middle of nowhere was a Chevron Petrol Station. Joy of joys. After this, we carried on swiftly to Pine Tops, collected the now repaired Avalon, dropped the previous week's hire car at Hatch Toyota, and then took off across dusty unpaved roads to the Rock Art Ranch. Rock Art Ranch is quite remote - 13 miles or so of unpaved roads away from both Holbrook and Winslow AZ. It is a 60,000 acre working ranch (complete with both cattle and buffalo) owned by Brantley Baird, whose family acquired the ranch in the 1930's. The ranch was originally part of the Hashknife Gang Spread and you can see the last remaining bunkhouse beside the museum of cowboy memorabilia and amazing collection of old Native American pottery he has found during his rides around the ranch over the years. Brantley Baird has opened up his ranch to visitors, but strictly by appointment - and it's just as well as you need his directions to find it! The main thing we came to see on the recommendation of Vaughn (from Bluff) was his hidden private canyon covered in one of best stands of Anasazi petroglyphs in the world probably. This is an idyllic little wooded canyon, with a stream of green water that never dries up, wild roses, vines and walnut trees - our ramble up and down the canyon in the late afternoon sunshine gazing at rock art, was one of the special moments of our lives. Zaria and Freya caught a little frog, looked for arrow heads, and scrambled over the stones that lead you across the stream. As there was still an hour or so to sunset, Brantley then led us in our cars, over to his ranch, several miles away, to see the museum, and to show us the remains of an old Indian campsite with a sweat lodge, a stone corral and several stone and mud buildings. As you drive over the ranch property, you look out over the wide rolling ranch-lands and you can see the San Francisco Peaks, some of the buttes of the Navajo Reservation, and the colours (pinks and ochres) of the Painted Desert. It's ravishingly beautiful.
Brantley himself is a real old time cowboy, generous and gracious to a fault. Dang me if he didn't win my heart the minute he called my grand daughters "purdy lil girls".
Now it was getting dark, and we drove carefully out of this magic place to the little town of Winslow, a famous stopping point on Route 66. We reserved a table at La Posada - a celebrated eating place (and hotel but it was booked up and we couldn't get in), and then set off to look for motel rooms. This was not at easy task - we checked several places before getting the very last three rooms available at Motel 6, plain and adequate. If you visit Winslow at a weekend, book ahead - it seems to be extremely popular! The meal at La Posada was really wonderful, and we enjoyed every bite and every moment. Chidi and Kate insisted on paying because Tom had instructed them to take me and Oksy out to dinner "on him". It was a really lovely "last night together".
Friday 17th April arrived and it was suddenly our last day in Tucson: laundry to be done; rooms to be booked at Grand Canyon; our hire car for the trip, reserved online, so long ago, to be picked up; packing! The morning passed quickly, and at 3:00 pm in Jean's car, I collected Kate from her High School in South Tucson along with the two miniature turtles, which were to be dropped with Barbara for the weekend again. Disaster... as Kate was lifting the container to look at them, the lid flew off and everything spilt into the car, turtles and all. We managed to retrieve one tiny turtle, but could not find the other. We drove to the airport where I went to deal with the paperwork for the car, while Kate got on her hands and knees and looked under the car, under the seats - everywhere, without luck. We drove in convoy to Jean's house and dropped the turtle and parked Jean's car, leaving a message about the missing turtle, in case he/she emerged from somewhere in the car later. Then we set off together to the Patagonia area near Nogales, on the border of Arizona and Mexico - about an hour's drive - to collect Paulita from her ranch. Paulita has just got back from London after treatment for a tiny head tumour, which means that she can't drive - at least not for the time being. Paulita's ranch is off the beaten track in a quiet corner of the world. It consists of an inherited family house, built in a sort of spacious Spanish colonial style, filled with beautiful old furniture, paintings and carvings, with views of rolling Southern Arizona country, edged with a rim of blue rocky ridges on the horizon. There is a swimming pool (of course) and Paulita has added a tiny chapel in the same style a the house. The structure of the chapel is complete, and Paulita is now working on stained glass windows, most of which are using reclaimed old stained glass panels she has picked up in her travels. Beneath the chapel there will be a small basement museum, where Paulita will have a collection of curios. This is part of her plan to develop a sort of children's petting zoo, and have groups of children from schools in Nogales visit the ranch. She is busy developing her animal collection: the miniature donkeys are particularly sweet. There was a baby one there when we went over to the yard, and all of the donkeys came up to us curiously to be cooed over. This visit couldn't be rushed even though Paulita had her bag all ready to go. Eventually we got onto the road back to Tucson. On arrival, Tully, Declan, Chidi, Oksy, James and the girls were all in party mood. Luckily I'd planned and three quarters prepared an egg curry, using an Ed Bain recipe I got from U-tube that morning. It was a great success and so I can strongly recommend the recipe http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pxh70xVu7-4. It uses sweet potatoes. Later Dave (Kate's cousin who commissions and imports beautiful ceramic flower pots from Mexico), Susan (his wife, who teaches in Tucson), Garnet (his daughter, currently doing her PhD at Stanford) and Khalid (Garnet's partner) came round, and so it was a late, but merry evening.
Wednesday: I had breakfast with Jean and Barbara, and was then given the generous loan of Barbara's beautifully maintained old car, a gear shift rather than automatic, to my delight. James, Oksy and I decided to do a loop out of South Tucson which had been described in a recent newspaper article. We started by driving East on the I10 to Benson. Here we drove North a few miles and turned off onto a narrow dirt road for another half mile: there was Singing Wind bookshop. Singing Wind bookshop is an utter delight. It's most unique areas are the history and culture of SW United States, but there are loads of other areas to browse. We started choosing armfuls of books, until I discovered that they don't take plastic (I'd assumed that this remote shop would have to do Internet trading, but I was obviously wrong). After this we followed the article's instructions to sample the delights of Reb's cafe in Benson proper. Here at 1020 W Fourth Street, Benson, we walked through the door into the 1950's: fans lazily turned above our heads, the seats, covered in red leatherette, were arranged in booths, there was a clutch of waitresses, none of them young girls. After very good food and coffee, we set off again for Tombstone passing the little Mormon community of St. David's on the way - a rural idyll with fish ponds and pecan trees on both sides. There is also a well known Catholic Monastery here which you can visit if you have time - just to enjoy the peace, the fishponds and the pecans I suppose!
Tombstone is totally kitsch, but not too offensive. We duly took our "I was there photos" and looked into the shops with their amazing array of Western mementos and kit of all possible descriptions, and then, more seriously, went around the Courthouse museum, which is actually very interesting, and well worth a visit. The restored courthouse was erected in 1882, and you can sit in the courtroom, walk in the enclosed prisoners' exercise yard complete with gibbet (poor James managed to get himself locked out there alone for 10 minutes), and there is a lot of interesting information about the ranchers and miners of Tombstone's early period. It was a boom and bust town, no doubt of it. Silver was discovered in the area in 1877, and the Tombstone community established two years later. By 1882, when the courthouse was built, it had a population of 10-15,000. From then on Tombstone's fortunes rose and fell with the global price of silver, until the silver mines were flooded and the pumps ruined in 1909 - and that was the end of Tombstone.
Our next stop was a brief look a the San Pedro Riparian National Conservation area. We drove to the San Pedro House, an old ranch house which serves as a visitor centre and just got a taster of the abundant bird life here. It was beautiful and peaceful. There are many trails for walkers and birdwatchers. From here we drove to Sierra Vista, a new town with as you would imagine, ravishing views of the mountains. We found it difficult to pick up our route here, so we went with the flow and stopped at the town's enormous shopping mall to pick up a few supplies, then proceeded along the AZ90 and then along the AZ82 passing the village of Elgin which is the centre of an area of vineyards and wineries - probably best visited at a later time in the year. The final part of the loop was a very scenic drive along the AZ83 from Sonoita back to the I10. This is wild, empty ranching country, all lightly wooded rolling hills. Again much of it is protected in the Los Cienegas National Conservation Area, and there is a ranch house you can visit, if you wish.
We got back to Tucson at about 18:30 to find Kate had been busy cooking, and that her brother Tully, nephew Declan would be round for dinner. James read stories to Freya from the new books purchased at Singing Wind.
This morning we are all sharing a bit of a cold and cough. Some people are on Lemsips (Walgren version). I think we'll have a slow day today, maybe one short outing this afternoon. Tomorrow we have to prepare for our big trip north.
Our quiet Tuesday doing laundry and planning the next leg of our trip to the Grand Canyon (I've managed to book us into Best Western at Grand Canyon for two nights), has given me leisure to reflect on people we met on our trip to Monument Valley and Canyon de Chelly.
First of all there was D-, an apple-shaped, moustached, rugged type about my age, who stopped and worried about Kate and me on the White Mountain as we waited for AAA to tow our car. He'd been brought up in South Tucson and has moved only as far as Coolidge, AZ a little community in the middle of nowhere, making his living as a general handy man, with his tow truck, his basic knowledge of car mechanics, and his practical experience of building and building contracting. Probably he went to Vietnam in the late sixties, and after that, he was apparently glad to live quietly in an all American backwater. He was a good source of information though and we were glad to have met him. He put us onto O-'s lot (see below). When he eventually drove off leaving us on the mountainside, we all exchanged warm hugs as though we'd known each other for a lifetime: perhaps it wasn't so far-fetched. We ascertained that he most likely was in high school along with Kate's Tucson cousins back in the early sixties.
Then there was P-, another person of my age range. She always does the night, or graveyard, shift at Denny's in Holbrook. Shapeless and overweight in her black T shirt which said "Get your grave on", P- was a twin (her girl twin had passed on many a year ago) with 10 or 11 brothers all with prolific families, but she'd never had her own children and was glad she hadn't. You might say she was the opposite of Dan in many ways. She had never been a settler, and now she is an outright drifter living on the edge of extreme poverty, probably little or no health insurance which is the key indicator of economic affluence in the USA. She drove trucks for 16 years before settling to a nomadic existence going from one Denny's outlet to another as the mood took her, living in tiny motel rooms until the next call to move on beset her. She'd been married for a while, but her mate had passed on a few years before, and she hadn't the heart to maintain their trailer home after that, or perhaps the cost of healthcare had eaten all her assets such as they were. It seemed a sad and lonesome life, yet her crystal, almost aquamarine eyes ("My people came from Norway") twinkled a welcome to every single person who pushed the door open in Denny's: Kate and I had a good laugh with her and she promised to write me out the best, most scenic route across America, based on her trucking experiences.
And there was J-, a slip of a man about 30 years old, completely toothless, who seemed so colourless and spiritless to us at first. As he towed our car off the White Mountain and kindly took endless trouble to make sure we were stopped off in a safe and convenient spot, mostly silently, from time to time we gleaned some scraps. He had run away from some sort of abusive family situation in Utah to stay with the only other person he knew, his Dad living in Globe. He hates Globe because it's a small town (yes, ironically named!) and there is nothing to do and he has no prospects - he ran away from home before completing high school: another lonesome person living on the edges of American society in pretty deep poverty without enough health insurance to get a set of teeth...
Not so different perhaps from S- except for the age. S- would be about 56 years old according to J-n. His face is covered with a long matted grey-brown beard. Although he clearly has no Native American heritage himself, he lived on the Navajo reservation working for Justin the owner of the stables, until J-n and he fell out. J-n told him he suspected that he was on the run from something - the combination of no contact wth his family, and his propensity to avoid socialising made J-n suspicious. I must say that Kate and I had a bit of a soft spot for S-. He's a quiet loner, happier with his rescued dogs, and other animals than with humans; we were glad to hear from J-n that he had got another job on the reservation herding sheep with a litle cabin to live in, thrown in. His needs are minimal and this sounded perfect for him.
J-n himself is another character. Again in my generation, he is from a land-owning Navajo family. He's actually done some college in Utah, but spent most of his youth, according to his own story, in an agressive alcoholic haze. Eventually he got sorted out in Utah where he joined AA and for 36 years "I have been clean ... but it's still one day at a time". J-n is quite a well known Navajo artist, as well as the owner of the stable of horses we used when we rode down the Canyon. As I rode in exhausted from my first horse ride (all six hours of it), he came over and said "Where's Judy, I am so proud of her!". It made my day. Later J-n came over to the Thunderbird Lodge and showed us some of his paintings and we had an interesting discussion about social issues and life in general. All the reservation voted for Obama, who he calls "Brother Obama". I hope that Obama can fulfil some of the aspirations of dispossessed America: the social problems among the young Navajo bring tears to your eyes; the problems of other drifting people living on the edge, with no health insurance and very little security bring tears to your eyes.
T- our Navajo guide, is a little younger - probably in his late thirties or forties. He too has come through a wasted period of bad alcoholism, and has been clean for 3 years. He was sad, because his father sold all his family's land for a case of wine, and did not ensure that Navajo lore was passed onto him. Apparently there are strict rules as to who can do this, and there is no-one left who can do this for T-... or any children he might have. It's like his line has become lost. Right now he works as hard as he can to raise enough money to buy a little place on the reservation. I hope he succeeds, before he kills himself with over exertion.
V- was our guide in Bluff - another person of my generation - there seem to be so many of us! I suppose that's what is meant by baby-boomers, though I am on the older fringe of that generation. As I wrote in my blog for that day, taking a trek with V- who says he is of Dutch-German extraction, tall and lean with hands and feet like spades, is like taking a university course: his knowledge is encyclopedic, but it's not just this: he knows the various arguments and points of view of different archeaologists, and will tell you what their differing viewpoints are, and what his own opinion is. He is an exponent of the Natural Museum concept, and when he goes off on his own, he often finds artefacts that he hides as close to the spot he finds them as possible (and keeps his own records).
O-'s lot are the chief owner-mechanic and his two employee mechanics at Pine tops where we left Kate's car for repair. I've already described them wearing their identical greying pony tails. They were helpful, practical and inventive mechanics, prepared to make do and mend: just what we needed. Yet even their lives had most likely not take a straight course: Dan had implied that they'd all messed up at some point, and were only now "trying to do it right". Perhaps their lives had also been affected by a spell in Vietnam. We need to understand what extended periods of combat may be doing to the current generation of soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq.
PS. James, Oksy and I are off to Benson, Tombstone and Elgin for the day (Wednesday).
On Easter Monday, I was up early to enjoy the sun rising over Thunderbird Lodge. After my epic horse ride on Sunday, I was expecting to be sore, but I had applied Heal (http://www.healgel.com) to the tender areas, and wasn't daunted by the thought of sitting for the 413 mile journey back to Tucson ! Heal has been developed by a group of UK plastic surgeons to soothe, help in repair and work against scarring. It has been so successful that they have packaged it up and you can buy a small jar over the Internet, where I see a picture of Thandie Newton swearing by its anti-wrinkle properties! I don't use it for this, honest, but I have a jar by for this and for that (it soothes mild sunburn very effectively for example) and you use very little at a time: it's good useful stuff. Get some.
We were on the road before 8.30 MST, and soon speeding down the I 191 towards Ganado and the old Hubbell trading post. As before I was struck by the wide open spaces, the lack of human habitation. There were wild horses, and at one point, in the slanting early sun, I saw three Coyotes standing by the road. Chidi saw a prairie dog. We stopped briefly at the Hubell trading post - old Hubbell traded with the Navajos back in the 19th century and the old buildings remain in use as a sort of up market souvenir and sweet store, lovingly preserved. Then on and on, sticking to the I 191 all the way until you hit the I 10, mostly driving over empty countryside. Once we left Navajo country, we were driving down the Eastern edge of the Apache reservation with New Mexico not too far away. This was all beautful pine clad mountains, with swathes of snow here and there. James said "up state New York", Kate said "Oregon", but this was hot dry Arizona! The village named Alpine says it all. We continued up and up over the White Mountains and through extensive National Forest; at one point we travelled for over 60 miles of switchbacks with wild forest and mountains on every side, and saw only two other cars the whole way. We stopped for lunch at Hannagan Meadow, where there was a deserted guest house: the proprietor, rustled up from the back of the property, made us chilly dogs (which were actually dreadful in retrospect, but we were very hungry). While the girls played in the snow we sat sunning ourselves on his balcony enjoying the utter peace and beauty. From Hannagan Meadow it's about 5 hours to Tucson because of the mountain roads all the way through to Morenci, where the beauty ends with a terrible judder as you drive past this huge gash in the earth where they mine for copper and assorted other minerals.
Stopping to get a couple of packs of beer and some Tequila for Margaritas, we were in Chidi an Kate's house before 7:00 pm Tucson time. Today the resident family has all departed for school, I am doing laundry, and planning on a quiet day!
We got up early and created a little Easter chocolate hunt for Zaria and Freya in the room shared by me, Oksy and James, complete with little clues (partly disrupted when our room was cleaned and tidied unfortunately, but still do-able). Then Kate, James, Oksy and I drove down the road a few hundred metres to the riding stable, leaving Chidi to look after the girls and supervise their hunt. Here we discovered Terrell saddling our horses while Justin Tso the owner, drove in a moment later. Terrel and I went up to the Visitor Centre to do our permit (this is all Navajo reservation territory). As we got back, we got into a big truck to go to the top of Twin Trails well up the canyon. We planned to ride down into the canyon and then ride along it to the mouth (estimated time 5.5 hours which daunted me as I have never ridden a horse). My horse was called Princess and she was generally quite amenable to having an incompetent sack of potatoes on her back. We rode part of the way into the canyon, and then led, or had our horses led to the bottom when it became too precipitous for us. This was nothing short of spectacular. Once at the bottom of the canyon there were no more ups and downs, though many places where we forded the river aka "Chinle Wash". Apart from the dramatic rocks, deep ravines, geological marvels in themselves, there are many instances of rock art from the various inhabitants of this canyon: archaic peoples (earlier than 200BC), Basketmaker peoples (c. 200-700AD), Pueblo or Anasazi (750-1300AD), Hopi (1300-1600AD) and finally the Navajo (1700-). Apart from rock art, there are ruins of buildings constructed by the Anasazi. These early people came and went - no-one knows from where they came or what happened to them - all we have are these traces of their life in the canyon.
Much of the upper part of the canyon is inaccessible except on foot or horseback, so the early part of our trip was perhaps the most unique part. As we got further down, we came across parties of visitors in jeeps - it looked quite fun as they splashed through the river at various points up to Antelope House overlook. However we felt superior as we steered our horses aside to let them by! We stopped at the Antelope House site, and had our sandwiches and a very, very welcome cup of coffee - we had dressed as warmly as we could, but in places it was bitterly, bitterly cold, with a freezing wind that must have blown straight from Aspen Colorado! The whole trail took us 6 hours from start to finish, and we dismounted our horses cold and a bit sore, but wholly thrilled. We have all warmed up now, and Chidi is off trekking on foot, equipped with the warm weather clothing we should have taken: my thermal undersweater, woolly hat and gloves, and Oksy's spare fleece! He should be back around 6:30pm.
After warming up with cups of gratis coffee supplied in the Lodge foyer, we've had a look at the gift shop, especially the gorgeous, but extremely expensive rugs, and now we are about to take the party for something to eat. More later, probably when we get back to Tucson tomorrow evening after a long drive.
PS; Chidi back at about 7:00 pm - he trekked with Terrell up the Canyon from Twin Trails and enjoyed it thoroughly.
Saturday morning, we all woke a bit tired, partly because of the one hour time difference, and partly because we'd had a late night the day before. We made ourselves good coffee, and I had a cinnamon bagel with cream cheese for breakfast - everything from the supermarket at Chinle. Kate and I went off to see about a tour, and discovered Vaughn Hadenfeldt of Far Out Expeditions (http://www.faroutexpeditions.com/). We thought we would do a short trek with Vaughn and then have him take the male adults on a longer trip, but that was before we realised his treks were for the local area around Bluff and not for the real Monument Valley, which is in the Navajo reservation where there are many restrictions on where you can go and where a guide is usually required. Kate and I set off for 2 hours and Vaughn took is on a wonderful trek down a small nearby canyon lined with rock art. It was a special two hours, as Vaughn having worked with many archaeological projects in the area, is extremely knowledgeable and quite well known in his own right for some of the projects he has undertaken. Originally from a ranch in Colorado, he now hates horses, is an expert rock climber and leads treks among other things to make a living.When we got back to the Adams house, we gave the rest of the party a choice: do a trek with Vaughn or do Monument Valley. The popular choice was Monument Valley. We have all decided to come back to Bluff next year for a full week to do some day treks with Vaughn, if he is available, and to take another day going down the San Juan River (not white water rafting but a more gentle but very spectacular experience). So off we went, all packed up with the cool box full of hard boiled eggs and chicken sandwiches courtesy of Chidi. What can I say about Monument Valley: it was more gasps as the familiar iconic views unfolded before our eyes. Stormy clouds were boiling across the horizon and every now and then we ran into flurries of heavy rain, which we could see arriving from far away - it added an extra dimension to the vistas before us. We took the obligatory "I was there" photos and stopped and bought a few little things form a couple of Navaho Jewellery stores by the side of the road. Then we made for Chinle via Kayenta, arriving at Thunderbird Lodge, Chinle at the mouth of Canyon de Chelly at about 6:15. Before settling down, some of us went to meet the horse trek organisers in a little spread a bout half a mile up the road from our hotel. There we found a guy called Shorty who makes up for his lack of height with a long bushy beard that covers most of his face. He told us what trips were available on horseback and helped us connect with the Navajo manager, Justin, and he recommended Navajo guide "Terrell". Four of us will take a ride down the canyon tomorrow morning, and those with energy left will accompany Chidi (who does not want to ride) on a 3-4 hour trek probably getting back by moonlight in the early evening. We had to eat at Burger King as we couldn't find anything better. Hmm!
