Courage is being scared to death, and saddling up anyway…..-John Wayne

By the time we had eased into our second week in the road, Richard and I had established a pretty workable routine. As I have said previously, he and I have both things in common and our differences, like most couples. Aside from him being cold while I am breaking a sweat, I am a morning being where he leans more towards being a creature of the night. These things are workable.

That being said, unless we are leaving at the crack of dawn, I am usually the first one to greet the day, and I like it that way. I get a little personal space in the wee hours before the sun comes up, and, conversely, he gets time to himself later in the day. All good. I bring all my makeup etc. down into the dining area before I go to bed. I have discovered if I turn a paper towel roll on end vertically, and crank the lights full on over the sink, I can rest my makeup mirror on top of it and see perfectly. My mother used to call this female ritual, “putting her face on”. Richard has set up an extension cord next to the big mirror in the living room area, which allows me to dry my hair if he is still in bed. It all sounds a bit discomfiting, but it really isn’t. What you get used to, is what you get used to.

On our last day in Moab, Utah, I was up early as usual organizing the fifth wheel in anticipation of pulling up stakes the following morning, destination Tuba City, Arizona. The previous day, as I wrote in my last blog, we spent touring The Arches National Park. On, this, our last day in Moab, we were off to Dead Horse Point and to possibly to tour The Canyonlands National Park if there was time. Certainly, I had heard of The Arches before, but Dead Horse Point was totally unfamiliar to me. Richard, always a fountain of information, told me the park was named thusly because in the late 1800’s, a group of cowboys supposedly corralled a herd of wild mustangs there. The horses were taken to the top of a cliff overlooking the massive canyon dominating the center of the park. Keeping the horses contained, the men used the native brush to create a makeshift barrier to keep them from escaping. The animals were then left there to die of thirst, ironically with the raging waters of the Colorado River rushing past them 2,000 feet below. How much of this is myth and how much fact, I believe is still up for debate. This, as well as what compelled them to commit such a horrific act. Should it be a true accounting of what is actually occurred, what a sad tale to add to our history books. For me, who forwards a letter of condolence to the ant colony when I decrease their numbers by killing them off in my sink, I can’t fathom why people would do something like that to such beautiful creatures. When asking Richard what he thought their motive might have been, my guru lol, he conjectured times were tough back then. Staying alive in these new territories was a daily struggle. Theories are, they destroyed the horses so nobody else could use them to attack them. As so many things in our world, this too will remain an unsolved mystery.

At any rate, as we drove along the highway towards the park, I was again struck by how barren and unforgiving the landscape appears in the area. Not a building in site, just mile after mile of desolate expanse of land. I believe, and hope to be correct, the land around Dead Horse Point is part of the Ute reservation. There are many tribes represented in this area, so it is easy to get confused. At one point or another we would pass through Lakota, Hopi, Navajo, Apache, Comanche and Pueblo territories. I noticed when we went through the park gate at Dead Horse Point, Richard had to pay an admission fee. In most national parks there is no fee because of some annual pass Richard holds in his name. The fee is paid, pass or no pass, when on a reservation because the reservation lands are omnipotent and self governed, not bound by state laws.

Dead Horse Canyon was, well, I don’t have words really. The severe gouge in the land plummets a mile down at it’s deepest and reaches across seven miles. The river can be seen below winding and turning where the rocks permit. Water in the Colorado is at a low place due to drought conditions apparently, or so the man next to me was explaining. There is a moment when you are standing there where you can hardly take in the vastness of the place. Words such as awe inspiring or magnificent come to mind, but don’t seem to do it justice. As always, when standing at a place of great height, I wonder what it would be like to jump off and soar in the currents like the hawks circling overhead. Of course, you would only soar until you did not, and that would not be a pretty end I’m thinking. I decided to leave that to conjecture and simply enjoy the view. The eye of the camera is not as all encompassing as the actual seeing of a place, but it gives you a glimpse of what it is like so I have included some pictures.

After an hour or so the tour buses were lining up in the parking lot, so we moved on. That’s the thing about these magical locations, you must share them with others equally as excited to be there. I remember once going to see Bridal Falls in Yosemite. It was to be my first time in the park. Unfortunately, we had chosen peak season to go there so the floor of the beautiful park was a sea of cars and humans. Tourists were pushing and shoving at the bottom of the falls trying to get that perfect angle for a shot. As deafening as the falls were all I heard was everyone talking and cameras clicking. The second time I went, it was autumn. The leaves were turning, my breath lingered in the air, and the ground was hard and crisp as I walked along. Early in the morning, there were few people standing with us, and it was a far more moving experience.

We decided to pass on Canyonlands, and see it another trip. The following day was a full one with moving day once again along plus the lengthy drive to Tuba City, Arizona where our next pin in the map was. We had also planned stop to take a jeep tour at Monument Valley on the way to Tuba City.

Monument Valley is on the Navajo Reservation. Pulling into the parking lot well before noon, we found and booked a tour easily. Our carriage was to be a rather shop worn looking olive green jeep with a bobble head of a Chinese cow on the dashboard. Our guide, Larry. Larry, undoubtedly not his given name, was the best. I am a person with an inquisitive mind, who asks a lot of questions. My interest in history has been present in me as long as I can remember. Larry was a willing participant, enthusiastically providing me with information as we drove along. Drove along might be a bit of a misnomer here. I have been on trampolines with less spring. The road, a bright orange clay, darker when marked with puddles from the rain the night before, bore some very impressive potholes, and was not for the feint of heart. At one point, I think I actually left my seat and was suspended in mid-air for a full minute. When talking to the woman who booked our tour she had asked if we wanted an 1 1/2 hours or 2 1/2 hours, Richard was leaning toward the latter. I suggested we go for the shorter tour, this after looking at the road we were to take. Afterwards Richard said, “good choice”.

Monument Valley has been used as a backdrop for many movies over the years. Film crews, according to our guide, were watched closely by the President and Vice-President of the Navajo nation to ensure they leave the land as they found it. This was John Wayne’s favorite place he went on to say. Wayne helped name the impressive rock formations we were to see along our route when he was alive, and the names have remained in place ever since. The Mitten you see pictured above on the left, and on the right, The Three Sisters. As we toured the area, Larry would stop here and there at pivotal spots to allow us to take pictures. When you put the name with the rock monuments, you could understand how the names were chosen. My favorite was Snoopy. The rock formation looked exactly like the beagle resting on his back. This, as fate would have it, was the only picture I took while there that did not turn out. Sigh.

Larry told me much about the Navajo way of life. The Navajo Nation, he said, is 295,000 strong. The elders have persevered in their quest to keep the land in it’s natural state. There is no water source, so water must be trucked in. Electricity is provided by either generators or, for those who could afford it, solar. As to the Internet, I assume they have it, but I didn’t ask. From what I could see around me as we drove through the reservation, they were dealing with a lot of poverty. Every other sign we passed read “don’t drink and drive” which led me to believe they were dealing with other problems as well.

In the middle of the ride, the jeep made it’s way up a hill to a group of buildings. Most of the buildings were small shops selling Navajo art goods. Richard bought me a lovely bracelet at one of the stands. The young woman behind the table was so friendly, and truly beautiful. Her lush black hair was tied behind her clasped in a leather tie, but it was her smiling face that held your attention. I asked about the horse tethered under a thatched lean-to. I do love horses, and this one was a real beauty. Buckskin in color with a white blaze, he stood regally, wearing his saddle as if waiting for a rider to arrive. Turns out he was. His name, she told me, was Spirit, which suited him to a tee. The sign next to him read “Have your picture taken sitting on John Wayne’s horse.” Hmmmm, now John Wayne died in 1979. A horse might live for 28 years if lucky, so this for me was bit of a stretch. Perhaps Spirit was a descendant? That I might be able to latch onto. She asked if I’d like my picture taken. I declined, but asked if I could get a picture of Spirit, which I did.

Back at the origin parking lot, we thanked Larry for being so informative and interesting, and threw in a nice tip for his trouble. I felt sad to see him drive off. After a call to my chiropractor (kidding but not a bad idea), we hopped in the truck and pointed it towards Tuba, Arizona. The Grand Canyon was next on our list, and I have to tell you I had butterflies in my stomach.

Today is midway through our trip, marking two weeks on the road exactly. Talk soon.

Read Full Post »

A Mars pilgrimage is a journey through the soul

Moab, Utah was next on our places to visit. I have been through Utah many times over the years, but never visited the parks such as Arches and Dead Horse Canyon. Not because of lack of interest, but rather I was passing through the area with a destination in mind, not vacationing.

The first time I drove through Utah, also the occasion of my first road trip,was with my first husband and our two toddlers. That particular trip, spanned a little less than a year, and took us across a good chunk of the United States, including several side trips north of the border into Canada. We didn’t have the luxury of a fifth wheel and well appointed RV parks, but it was quite an adventure nonetheless. Our conveyance, was an old yellow Ford station wagon. As often as not, we slept on the ground or in the car, because our limited finances only accommodated a motel stay every five days give it take. The children slept in the back of the car which we made out into a bed. They went to sleep under the stars, and shared such a crazy and eventful year with their parents in full attendance. They were but two and three at the time, so the memories are only mine to share, but it was a special time.

With no particular destination in mind, our eyes were only on the journey. Some days, we pushed forward with more urgency than others. This due to weather or a location less desirable. On the slower paced days, we might have stopped to picnic in a field of wildflowers to allow the children some time to release their pent up energy, or perhaps took a swim in whatever body of water presented itself along our route.

On this particular night, we were making our way across a long strip of farm country in a very rural part of Utah. My husband was asleep next to me in the front seat, while the two babies slept in their makeshift bed in the back. As I remember, it had been a long day on the road. Many times I have mentioned mornings are my time to shine. I open up like a bloom welcoming the sun, full of energy and ready for the day ahead. Rick, was totally the opposite. Often I would hear the TV on late into the night. He used to say when my exuberance hit him in the face when he first woke up, “Could you tone it down a notch, Sparky, until I’ve at least had my first cup of coffee?”. Fine.

At any rate, in an effort to remain alert, I had fortified myself with several No-doz, basically coffee in pill form, before assuming command. After several hours driving with only the lights in front of me to mark my way, I became transfixed by the yellow line stretching out endlessly in front of me. My eyelids began to override orders from my brain instructing them to remain open. If you saw the movie “Vacation”, with Chevy Chase, you may recall the scene where the family is driving along the highway. The camera pans to all the occupants in the car, and every one is asleep, including the driver. They could have adapted that scene from this moment in my life. I do not remember dozing off. I do, however, remember being jolted awake as we pitched and bounced over the rough ground on the shoulder of the road, crashing down the side of the hill. As we careened over a hill, the car continued it’s forward trajectory, stopping only when it barreled through a stretch of fence Cut!. I guarantee, we were all wide awake by the time the car rolled to a stop. The torn remnants of the fence in question were resting on the hood, partially stuck in the windshield wipers. Thankfully, after checking bodies, everyone seemed uninjured. If I don’t have a guardian angel, no one does. There we stood, in the middle of the night in some stranger’s field. My husband did a quick check of the car, untangling the fence from the wipers. Other than a bent wiper blade, miraculously there were no extra parts lying on the ground, and the car started right up. Both of us breathed a sigh of relief. There wasn’t a lot of money for car repairs. Thinking we’d dodged the bullet, but not sure what to do about the fence situation, suddenly out of the mist, shadowy figures began to emerge. What? As we watched, one brown face, with two milky brown eyes and a bewhiskered snout came into view. The bovine stopped, taking us in for a moment with mild curiosity. Not seeming to find us particularly interesting, she chewed several times, and sauntered on through the gap in the fence. Oh-oh. Before long, cows were migrating past us like someone had rung the dinner bell. Soon, a long single file line of thirty or so animals could be seen disappearing down the road. Not knowing what to do, and no farmhouse in sight anywhere, we left a note with our names on it apologizing for any grief we had caused, attaching a twenty dollar bill to cover damages. What can I say, we were both young and stupid at that age. In our defense, a twenty did go a lot farther back then. I always held hope those cows made it where they were going in one piece.

This recent trip, thank the gods, we made it to Moab without incident. The only slow spot was as we passed through Provo. Traffic going the opposite direction was backed up for miles, which created a glut of looky loos on our side. Lights flashing here and there indicated a police presence, so we thought there had been an accident. An electrical storm had overtaken us about twenty miles before, dumping some pretty significant rain on the roadways, so an accident didn’t seem unlikely. I was to learn later this traffic glut on the roadways happens every time there is a Brigham Young University football game. When the game is over, 65,000 loyal fans converge on the freeway, and the police show up to handle the situation. Good Lord, so to speak.

Locating the RV park where we would stay the next two days, we settled in for the night. I made reservations online to visit The Arches National Park early the next morning. If you are visiting the Arches, make a note to do this before going to the gate, or you won’t be able to enter. Had they not told us this when we checked in, we wouldn’t have known you needed reservations either. This is by way of crowd control, or so I’m assuming, to keep the cars showing up at the gate in a staggered fashion rather than everyone coming to the party all at once.

The Arches were all that and a bag of chips for sure. Amazing, brightly colored rock formations, jutting out of the earth created by millions of years of erosion. Hard to believe this land had once been an inland sea. In several areas of the park, these formations created natural arches in the rock giving the park its name. One arch we stopped at, I decided to pull on my walking shoes and hike back into the area to get a closer look. It was a bit of a climb, making your way up rocks and the like. I kept mind of my feet to make sure something unexpected didn’t slither out from under a rock by way of a welcoming committee. The literature I read said there were scorpions, centipedes and rattlesnakes prevalent in the area. I’m not a fan of one, two, or number three . The only life form I encountered, were several chipmunks. These were the fastest little creatures I’ve ever seen. You could hardly see their little paws moving as they hustled across the sand. I arrived at the site of the arch alone, passing several people coming down as I made my way up. I sat on a rock for a while allowing myself to absorb the spiritual energy circling all around me. As the sun rose in the sky, it’s rays created stars of light at the corners of the arch. If you had told me I was seated on the surface of mars, I wouldn’t have doubted you for a moment. So surreal and unusual were the sights all around me. I lingered for a bit, hesitant to let go of the moment, until other hikers showed up and broke the spell.

I shall hold tight to the experiences I am having on this trip and always remember how blessed I was to have been able to make the journey. On to Monument Valley next and then the Grand Canyon. Life, as they say, is good.

Read Full Post »