The Reason for The Road
A reward. A celebration. A crazy idea. Certainly a bit of all that and some more. I have always been a fan of the road trip, that immersive excursioning experience that allows the traveler to truly see what's out there and be part of all the places wandered through and explored. Road trips are best if you're with your soulmate, and for the 50 Trip I finally was fortunate enough to have the best of all possible adventures because Naomi was with me. Note that only a select few of the +1800 pictures are here, but hopefully they give some perspective of what's out there if you're willing to get behind the wheel. This isn't so much for you the reader, it's more for us the travellers, since years from now we'll only remember the highlights and not all the details. So in an effort to be able to conger up the smaller details and reminisce some day in the future, let's start at the finish.
You don't need to be young, but you have to have the gumption to drive nearly 6,000 miles. We did it in two weeks. Would we have wanted more time? Yes, to see more of some of the places we went. An extra day or three would have meant being able to take a few extra sidetracks into the unknown. You don't need to have (much) money. We had enough to stay in the best places, eat at the best restaurants and see a show in Vegas, but we also had picnics, ate fast food and slept in the truck - either budget, or the combination approach, works. You don't need an F-350 crewcab 4x4, but I would recommend it. You do need the spirit of a pioneer once in a while, and a full respect for where you are.
The original plan, in a nutshell, was to see some national parks in the western US and visit Las Vegas. Nothing remarkable about that, except that the trip had been in the works for over six months, giving lots of lead time to research the best hotels along the route and the primary things to do and see. It wasn't a "bucket list"; there was no urgency about the trip, but we did want to see a variety of the natural wonders of the west with Las Vegas as the boomerang that would hook us back onto our return route.
The one hard slog about roadtrips to "the west" that start from places like Toronto is the getting to the west. Where "the west" started for us was Denver, although it was truly just a place to sleep for the night before the real trip began. Toronto to Denver is, well, a pretty long drive - it's not hard, but it's not very interesting. It involves the complication of going under Chicago; if you like construction, then you'll love driving south of Chicago. These two days covering 1,500 miles of interstate takes you through Ontario, Michigan, a slice of Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska and Colorado. You spend a lot of time on I-80. You get a sense of what flat and straight really mean. You pass lots of tractor trailers. And you can at times even be bored, intensely bored. Having never been to Denver, I was a little underwhelmed, but the "LoDo" (lower downtown) is going through a revitalization and is comparable to most big cities that have a Distillery District like Toronto, or a similar spot to attract people. But that was the second night. Let's not get too far ahead.
First let's admit that after the initial 15 hour drive on Day 1 we stayed in Omaha, Nebraska. Again, nothing remarkable about the city, or the hotel. After a dinner consisting of reuben sandwiches we walked down to the Old Market, another (grittier) version of the Distillery District to observe the locals enjoying Friday night and then returned to the hotel to get some sleep. The first day's drive was interspersed with "marvins", mostly in Iowa. Marvins are those folks who sit in the passing lane not passing, creating bottlenecks and amplifying any frustration a driver might have already built-up from being on the road (the use of lowercase is intentional since marvins deserve derision; the name comes from an earlier roadtrip to Nova Scotia where a gent being the consummate marvin had as his vanity license plate "MARVIN" - the term stuck). Apart from the abundance of marvins, the drive was done in sunshine and the rolling hills of Iowa's scenery helped bring about some calm in the cab. One other thing about Omaha before we get back to Denver: as we were heading to the I-480 in the morning, we had to travel south on 29th St. and crossed over Leavenworth St. (named after General Henry Leavenworth, a noted military figure and founder of Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, not named after the famous Kansas penitentiary itself) - the name Leavenworth means "raising value", and I guess that's what Omaha is trying to do, and succeeding at, a little.
Breakfast for Day 2 was found at McD's off I-80 at exit 432. Construction required a detour west on US-6 across the Platte River to Ashland, then a left turn onto NE-66 back to the interstate. Be cautious always of deer; 6 crossed the road in front of us and we all stayed safe. Heavy rains hit for an hour or so in the morning, but once we'd hooked southwesterly onto I-76 to follow the South Platte River the skies blued-up as we crossed into Colorado. That was five hours of driving. There's a 70 mile stretch west of Lincoln where there are no bends in the interstate. That's Nebraska. Denver was three more hours down I-76.
Denver. It's okay. We enjoyed sun, the folks are friendly amid their self-absorption, and look to be enjoying themselves. The area around Union Station was certainly walkable, and the Crawford Hotel was interesting. We arrived in time to have lunch at a great bistro called Rioja in the Larimer Square Market - their twist on eggs bene was delicious. We spent the afternoon on a bit of a wander and then got tidied up for dinner at Avelina. Dinner was okay (the asparagus salad was the best part), and the service made up for what the meal lacked, as did trying to decode the relationship of our neighbouring diners... Meal finished, short walk back to the hotel, some picture-taking and then sleep before the real start of the exploration of the west.
Sunday morning, day 3. We left Denver early. Our destination was Cody, WY for the night - but we had little in the way of fuel to get there. On the way north up I-25, we took the exit at US-287 into Loveland, CO looking for a gas station that might be open. The Shell just north of where US-287 turned the same direction had 24 hour pumps, but we had no ZIP Code. It's an idiosyncrasy in the US that people can pay for almost anything anywhere with a cheque, but you need a ZIP code to get pre-authorized for gas. Why doesn't the pump know it's a Canadian credit card? Luckily the attendant was at the station, along with her brother, who was kind enough to let me in so we could do the payment at the cash register. During the back and forth of unlocking and re-locking the gas station to let me in and out, bagels and coffee were gotten from the Caribou Coffee & Einstein Bagels Co. across the street. Bagels were genius, coffee had a lower IQ, but both were welcome as we got back on US-287 heading north through Fort Collins, CO to Laramie, WY. No more interstates for the next five days.
Laramie came and went as we transitioned onto US-30 north to Casper, WY. Bosler, Rock River and Wilcox came and went too. Rock River had a wrecker's yard though full of 40's and 50's pickup trucks looking for a new home, but it was only a temporary distraction. At Medicine Bow, we took the second right after the museum to get onto WY-487 and up to Casper.
The road from here to Casper was dotted with wind turbines, the occasional cow, grassland and not much else. You get the sense you're getting closer to the foothills, but you're just not there yet. Hills are called mountains still, but that's okay. There are no towns. WY-487 ends at WY-220 (I guess no one wanted to build a bridge over the North Platte River) and you steer right again to stay northward, passing a couple of "suburbs" of Casper (Bessemer Bend and Red Butte) until getting into the heart of downtown Casper. The town was founded in 1888 when the tracks of the Fremont, Elkhorn & Missouri Valley Railroad arrived and was named for nearby Fort Casper which had become a ruin. The fort really should be Caspar, but they spelled the lieutenant's name wrong way back when. There are still lots of iron rails in the town, criss-crossing the river.
Leaving Casper, we took US-20 (or US-26 if you'd prefer) northwest. After crossing the middle fork of the Casper Creek and drifting into more of a westerly direction, the road is flanked on the north by the railroad. That lasts until Powder River, when the iron rails carve northerly.
But just after Powder River you'll want to watch out for Hell's Half Acre. It's an interesting and quick stop to see a miniature version of hoodoos out in the middle of the surrounding grassland, and you get to truly tell people you've been to Hell's Half Acre. Back on the road, there's nothing much until Steelman's Bright Spot - a tavern in the middle of nowhere, then on to Moneta which is another place that seems out of place. It's a town, I suppose, with a properly surveyed town plan, but there's nothing there except for a single house that has what appears to be a shed building business behind it. If you scan the horizon in all directions you wonder, who's buying the sheds? The next town is Shoshoni, which is a real town. Named for the local Native American tribe it's origin is related to the confluence of the Poison, Badwater and Wind Rivers; two of the three would make you wonder though.
As we drove out of the north end of Shoshoni, the road hugs the Big Horn River and you're now in the river's valley. There are some interesting rock formations and points where the rapids are verging on spectacular. Minnesela, where you cross to the west side of the river, is the only town until you come to Thermopolis, who's claim to fame are the hot springs that burble in the state park. We didn't stop. We did turn left onto WY-120 to head to our end point of the day. We skipped the longer route of Red Lane, Lucerne, Kirby (home to Wyoming Whiskey), Winchester, Worland, Washakie Ten (fun name - Washakie was a Shoshoni chieftain), Mandersen, Basin, and Greybull. Our destination was Cody, Wyoming, where we would bunk down for the night at Ivy's Best Western. And so the smaller places of Meeteetse, where you cross the Greybull River, and Dry Creek which isn't actually a place at all as far as we could tell, are the only notables until the road t's at US-14 at the east end of Cody.
Why Cody? It was the most logical place to start our foray into the National Parks. Early plans for the trip took us farther north after getting to Chicago, taking I-90 up and then west ending us up in Billings, Montana. From Billings, the road into Yellowstone would have been an interesting drive along US-212 (the Northeast Entrance Rd.) to Tower Butte, but the waypoints between Toronto and Billings weren't optimal. Add that to the added driving time over the first 2 days meant we didn't think it was worth the effort to see the very northern end of Yellowstone, so Cody is where we pointed the hood.
The "biggest" thing to do in Cody is to visit the Buffalo Bill Center of the West. We didn't. It was very full, we were pretty pooped, and we didn't feel like spending the $40 to get in. We did go to the grocery store and pick up supplies for a picnic the next day in the park, as well as snacks for the room. We also got some wine and beer from the purveyor of spirits next door to the grocery store. The woman running the place when we stopped in was in the midst of changing all the pricing of the inventory as the result of a new (upward) state taxation percentage; she wasn't too happy about it but more than happy to tell us all about it. It's always a risk being the only customers in a store. If we could have used the tap feature on our credit card we'd have gotten out sooner. We had a little lookabout town to see what was on the main street (Sheridan Ave.) and then went back to the hotel to have a little cocktail hour. After a couple of drinks and some nibbles I fell asleep, so we didn't go out to Irma's in the old Buffalo Bill Hotel. In fact I slept until the next morning - the hours behind the wheel had caught up.
Monday morning, day 4. Up early, 4am. After checking out at 5am and topping up on Best Western coffee, filling up the tank at the Mobil on Yellowstone Ave., we aimed the truck west along the North Fork Hwy (aka US-14, US-16 & US-20) past the Bill Cody Ranch and Pahaska Teepee (where the North Fork of the Shoshoni River and the highway part company). The Cody Mountain Tunnel was darted through and the sun started to come up just as we approached Wapiti; there was only a few miles left until we arrived at the east entrance to Yellowstone an hour after leaving Cody.
The Ranger on duty was terrifically nice, as were the two moose poking around for some breakfast just feet away - a true sign we were about to see some amazing sights. Armed with maps and park info, our drive took us winding through the valley, around Avalanche Peak, up higher to hook around where the road crosses Cub Creek and then back down along the eastern shore of Yellowstone Lake. Bison could be seen in the flat around Mary Bay and perhaps signaled we should stop at the Fishing Bridge Visitor Center for a picnic breakfast.
The Visitor Center itself was closed, but the facilities were well heated; advantage of their existence was taken. It was certainly cool that morning - our northern location augmented by the elevation meant there was a real chill in the air, but as we ate the sun mustered itself above the peaks to warm us up. The east entrance road T's just west of where we ate, so we turned north toward Canyon Village. Moments after that turn, just upstream from LeHardy's Rapids at N44.609259 E-110.399487, we pulled off to see a brown bear across the Yellowstone River catching her own breakfast. Sighting of moose, bear and bison all in an hour. We kept our eyes open for more wildlife as we got to the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone.
After walking a few of the trails and taking in the views of the gorge, we took Norris Canyon Road west from Canyon Village over to the Grand Loop Road (US-89) and before turning south towards Madison Junction, stopped to wander the trails at the Norris Geyser Basin. We stuck to the Porcelain Basin and admired the sulphur smells and green waters of Congress Pool and the Whale's Mouth. The steep climb back up to the little museum was, well, surprisingly steep. Pause here just to talk about all the geysers and pools in the caldera of Yellowstone - they are something, and I'm sure would have been an absolute wonder to the aboriginal peoples given they had no science to explain what they were seeing; it's almost too bad that you're able to walk through these areas along the wooden walkways because the natural luster of these areas seems diminished somehow. Back in the truck we felt we'd seen enough mini-geysers and chemical pools, so we headed south to see if by chance Old Faithful's schedule was in any way synchronized to ours. It was around 11am now, and there was also the matter of food and a washroom to consider. On the way, another buffalo decided to pose for us.
From Madison Junction, we turned left to continue south to the Yellowstone Lodge. Now on US-191 and skirting the Firehole River, the scenery in the area is rolling hills dotted with trees. On approach to Old Faithful ("OF") we stopped in the parking lot of the Old Faithful Inn (not to be confused with the Old Faithful Lodge of course) and Naomi went in to find out when the next burst of hot water might be expected.
As luck would have it, the geyser was due in 5 minutes with a margin of error of 15 minutes. Old Faithful apparently has become less so over the years. Bathroom break complete we left the truck where it was and walked a short way east across the parking lot to the edge of a service road and stood with an unobstructed view - there were multiple hundreds of people over at the "proper" viewing area between the Inn and the Lodge.
We waited.
OF would hiss and burble every so often.
We waited.
We waited the full 20 minutes and then OF decided the pressure of the magma below heating a pool of ground water was too much (it had nothing to do with our intense staring) and we were witness to a 60 foot geyser of steam and boiling water. Three minutes later it was over. People clapped. I'm not sure Mother Nature needs or even wants our applause, so I found the clapping odd. We wandered back to the truck and got back on the road heading to West Thumb.
West Thumb is a bay in Yellowstone Lake. From there, heading south, the road takes you along the east shore of Lewis Lake (named for Merriweather Lewis, commander of the Lewis & Clark expedition that lasted from 1804-1806). Another half hour saw us arrive along the east shore of Jackson Lake, enlarged from its original footprint by the Jackson Lake Dam in 1908. Across the lake the Grand Teton mountains come into better view now that we had left Yellowstone. Once we'd passed the Jackson Lake Lodge, we kept right onto Teton Park Road to head towards Jenny Lake. On the more east-west portion of the road underneath Jackson Lake's Spalding Bay, you're driving directly at Rockchuck Point and Mount Saint John.
We pulled off at the Mount Moran Turnout to take some pictures of the Tetons, before heading onto Jenny Lake Road. Mount Moran is off to the northwest when at the turnout, with Mount Horn just in front to the south - you are essentially looking over Spalding Bay and across Leigh Lake (you can't see that from here though) and the view of the range here is definitely worth the stop. In the picture, Mount Moran is the extreme right, Rockchuck Point is center and Mount Saint John is middle left. A little further along we turned west some more on Jenny Lake Road, to see actually if it was going to live up to the hype. We tried to park near the Lodge, and then again not so near the lodge, but now it was early afternoon and there was no room anywhere. Even the official turnoff for the Overlook was a non-starter. We kept driving along the road and found a spot to pull off the road (a bit sketchy, the truck was leaning quite a lot to the right). If the speed limit had been anything higher than 15mph I don't think we would have stopped. A little scamper through the woods found the trail that followed the shore and we took some pictures of the Tetons across the water. Hmph. It was a lake, the water was clear, but it was short of spectacular. That was the end of what needed seeing, so we got back on the Teton park Road which took us to US-191 and we drove south into Jackson.
The town is Jackson. The valley is Jackson Hole. Either will work with Google Maps. We drove into the main part of town which is centered on a town square. A right turn at the light onto West Broadway Avenue, you curve around to the left and eventually find Scott Lane where The Lodge at Jackson Hole awaited us. We were here for two nights to have a good explore and a rest from the road. The hotel was nothing special, the photographer who took the pictures for the hotel website hopefully was paid a lot of money, because he certainly earned it. It wasn't bad, it just wasn't "as advertised". After a shower and a drink, we dressed for dinner and headed back into the center of town to dine at Trio Bistro. OMG. Dinner was excellent. Best Caeser salad I've had in forever. And the steak was perfectly cooked, cut like butter and was so incredibly full of flavour. We were nearly joined by a group of Europeans (couldn't quite decipher the language, but it seemed Swedish) but after they sat down and couldn't understand the specials, they left. Shortly thereafter, a group of three sat down beside us - a thirty-something woman and her parents. Mom and daughter were dressed exactly the same, except the v-neck sweaters were yellow (daughter) and bright orange (Mom). They talked nonsense, mostly about the daughter's pending nuptials, and how much money the fiancé made, and where were they going to buy a house. There was a lot of internal mockery happening: some kind, some not; thankfully we were done and could escape. After dinner, we had a short walk around the square, but we were bushed so found the truck and went back to the hotel for a good night's sleep.
Tuesday morning, day 5. Up early, 5am. What to do... what to do? Breakfast. The only (sorta) good thing about the hotel was that it had a fulsome buffet breakfast. The dining room was full of folks best described as a-typical bus tour people; they were super polite, mostly 60+, and they all showed up at the same time. Now we never did see the bus they were taking from somewhere to somewhere so we don't know exactly where they were headed. My favourite was Mabel (they all wore stick-on "Hello, my name is:" tags). Mabel was a dear, shrunken old soul who seemed not to take crap from anyone but would knit you a sweater in a day if you asked her to. Sweet and salty if you can picture her. We ate (I ate a lot) and then were all set to head out and explore, except, well we didn't have anywhere in particular to go today. Nothing in Jackson was going to be open until 10, or even 11am, so that left a bit of an activity vacuum. When in doubt: drive.
Turning south on US-191 from the hotel, we drove through South Park, crossed the Snake River so it was now on the east side of the truck and then entered Coles Canyon, where we crossed the Snake again as the road swung more southwesterly. Crossing the Horse Creek, we arrived in Holback Canyon where the Holback River joins the Snake. We swerved off onto US-26 at the roundabout and were pointed west to Holback. We did not stop to go heli-skiing. We did not stop to go whitewater rafting on the Snake (although we did consider it for about 4 seconds). We followed the Snake River through beautiful canyons for about another 30 minutes; no one was on the road heading in our direction so that made the sight-seeing extra enjoyable. The road here is running right along the south extent of the park. We popped into Alpine Junction and once through town were greeted with a view of the Pallisades Reservoir, the result of damming up the Snake in Pallisades, Idaho.
Idaho?!? Awesome. Yes, We were in Idaho. That's an inside thing, so don't worry or ask about it.
The road that winds around the reservoir has some nice views, and some of the homes folks have built into the mountain on the east side are quite something, and look to be extremely precariously clutching onto the slopes. I'm sure everything's fine. Now, again, a reminder that out here there is a lot of wildlife and we were constantly proven right about this. At N43.320447, E-111.165944 we almost had a new hood ornament. But we stopped in time, the doe stared at us for a moment ("What, you lookin' at me?") and then stepped, slowly, into the underbrush. Good thing there wasn't anyone behind us, or that would have been rather unfortunate for all. We arrived safe in Pallisades, and were now in the Swan Valley. The next town was Irwin. Nothing much but a Post Office. But nice. When we got to the town Swan Valley we did turn right onto Pine Creek Road (aka ID-31) and headed up into the mountains (Stouts Mountain was to our north) and once we crested the top of the pass we saw this:
The town in the valley is Victor, Idaho. The mountains in the distance are the Tetons. So these are the sorts of things that you can see if you just go for a drive. And it was a little 3 hour diversion that paid a nice dividend. At Victor, we took UT-33 southeast which turned into WY-22 once we got back into Wyoming; the road is known as the Teton Pass Highway and carves through the valley between Oliver Peak and Taylor Mountain. Once down into the valley of the Sanke River and through Wilson, WY-22 ends at US-191 back in almost the center of Jaskson.
When we arrived back in town it was time to do a little walkabout and explore the town and do some shopping, maybe. There are a number of stores you'd see in most shopping centers, like Eddie Bauer where I got a couple of shirts. But there are a few spots that are truly local, and those are the kinds of places you want to wander through. We browsed the entire 'downtown' which we considered to be everything in a box defined by Pearl, Jackson, Gill and Willow streets. Lots of little galleries, a couple of outfitter stores, some furniture/home decor places, a horrible man running Kismet Rugs, and a fun couple at the Overland Sheepskin Company. And everything in between. As we were walking around, we made a dinner reservation at Cafe Genevieve and grabbed a quick bite at D.O.G. There wasn't anything remarkable or "must have" so once we'd done the entire town we drifted back to the hotel to freshen up a little.
Once rested and freshened and hungry again - that is something about the high dry air, it does work up your appetite - we headed in to see Geneviève at her Cafe. She wasn't there. Or at least she wasn't seeing people. We had a lovely table on the patio and our server was a terrific young woman who was attentive but not one of those hanging around all the time people. Naomi had the Idaho Trout, I had the house burger. It was fine, I think the burger was the better of the two. It was a lovely setting and we enjoyed watching the pace of the people. No one walked quickly, parents seemed to have more patience with their kids who dawdled (one young man, maybe 3 or 4 years old, dressed rather sharply in shorts and a polo, reminded us both of what I might have been like at that age - somewhat oblivious, wanting to do what he wanted to do, curious and very busy). It was a great way to end our time in Jackson. We walked back to the truck the long way to work off some calories and headed to the hotel to get ready for the next day's journey to Bryce Canyon.
Wednesday morning, day 6. Up early, 4am. Well, I was up early. But Naomi wasn't far behind. We packed up and grabbed a coffee at the hotel desk and checked out. It was cool outside, but the temps would be warming up as we headed south during the day. With the truck loaded and everything set for the day's drive, we headed back down US-89 as we had done the day before. There was nothing new along the Snake River that we hadn't seen yesterday, but at Alpine when we swung south across the Snake we were in new territory. The highway travels along the Salt River valley with the Wyoming Range mountains close on the east and the river to the west, and beyond the river the Caribou Range of mountains.
Etna, Thayne, Grover, Afton and Smoot are little towns we passed through down the valley until the road turns west, crosses the Salt River to take you through the Caribou. We landed again in Idaho in the Salt Canyon just north of Geneva, ID. We didn't go through Geneva, as we turned left onto ID-61 / WY-89 and literally drove south down the state line until the road veered back into Wyoming proper just north of US-30. WY-89 ended and we turned left onto US-30 towards Cokeville. Nothing much to see in Cokeville. But, 20 miles farther south down the road, where we turned right onto WY-89 again to head to I-80 that would take us to Salt Lake City, you could drop into Sage, WY. Sage is a ghost town that used to be a stop on the Overland Stagecoach that came north out of Fort Bridger.
Once we were back on WY-89, we drove about 5 miles until we hit the Utah state line - another welcome sign photo on the camera's memory card. We crossed Bridger Creek on what was now UT-30 and turned left a short while later onto UT-60 headed for Evanston, WY. Yes, lots of back and forth over the state lines. This part of the trip through Randolf and Woodruff in Utah gives you a long distance view to the west of the Wasatch Range of mountains. Crossing back into Wyoming just north of Bear River, the terrain is high plain with few trees. The last town before Evanston is Almy, WY which is dotted with a couple of large industrial facilities and not much else. The Bear River winds along the same route, and once in Evanston, you cross the river on the way to the interstate and it clearly delineates the two halves of the town. Evanston, founded in 1868, was named for James Evans who was a surveyor that laid out the route of the Union Pacific railway through the east half of Wyoming.
The next part of the morning journey was west along I-80 through the mountains towards Salt Lake City. We were heading up in elevation, and after Echo, UT we did the hard left around the Echo Reservoir to line up with the pass that crested the range. At exit 146, we deeked south on US-189 as we weren't going into Salt Lake City. I had hoped we'd be able to see a peak named Gobbler's Knob to the west, which got it's name because gold miners in the area used to raise turkeys on it's grassy western slope, but no luck. We passed the Jordanelle Reservoir on its west side, went through Heber City and then passed the Deer Creek Reservoir on its southerly side. From there, the road is very scenic, following the Provo River through its canyon. Almost at the end of the canyon you catch a glimpse of Bridal Veil Falls on the south. Then, you're on the western side of Provo, UT. It was around 10:30am. We were hungry. So Provo was going to be a feed stop. Maybe.
Wednesday morning in Provo is a hard place to find a meal. I'll skip the part about driving through Provo to almost leaving Provo to go back into Provo to eventually end up at the intersection of South University Ave. and Center St. Two things: sunny and hot, really sunny and really hot. We parked on Centre St. west of University and went for a short wander - every cafe, restaurant, food-getting place was closed. Seems things don't really get rolling until right at noon. We found the Ivie Juice Bar beside Rockwell Ice Cream were open, but they only served juice and ice cream, which as great as they might be, wasn't going to amount to a brunch that would hold us over until dinner. Oh, and there was no one around. There were some cars parked, but there were no people anywhere. We crossed to the east side of University and found Rocco's Big City Deli. It's in the basement. It's run by students. There was no one in the place other than a nice young man that took our order and someone in the kitchen cooking. There is a guy in an office that you can only get to from the seating area of the restaurant that was working on graphic designs for business cards. The food was weird but filling. And it seemed like a good place to not stick around. College basement bar. But it was open.
On our way around and in and out of Provo we did see a bit of Brigham Young University. That was somewhat interesting. But the whole place didn't seem to have a vibe, maybe because all the students had gotten out of town for the summer. We got onto I-15 to go around Provo Bay of Utah Lake and then got off the interstate at US-6 at the north end of Spanish Fork (fork in Spanish is horcajadura). We were now on the last part of the trip to Bryce and it seemed like it had been a long day already.
It was noon when we headed back into the mountains after leaving behind a wind farm in the rearview mirror. The road followed the Spanish Fork river through its canyon until we arrived on the other side where we took the switchback turn to stay on US-89 to the ghost town Thistle, UT. All we could see were a few crumbling buildings beside the road. The next real town we came across was Fairview, UT, which as the name suggests has a fair view of North and South Tent Mountain as you drive almost due south down State St., the town's main drag. We were in the Sanpete Valley proper now and continued south through Mount Pleasant, Ephraim, Sterling and around the east side of Gunnison. Near Gunnison on the west side of the Sevier River there are two ghost towns: all that remains of Dover is the Dover Cemetery, and a town called Clarion. The next town was Axtell. The only reason I mention it, is because from just south of here on US-89 where you cross Willow Creek if you look east you can see Mary's Nipple, which is funny for all sorts of reasons, none of which will be explained here. And you only know about places like that when you spend way too much time planning your route. Salina is where we cut onto UT-24 and crossed the I-70 to head even more off the beaten path.
After leaving Sigurd we cut onto UT-24 headed along the east route to Bryce Canyon. Repaving. There was a long stop and wait while a paving crew worked on one half of the road. After about 20 minutes of being stopped with the engine off doing a little toasty frying in the sun, the flagman signalled that the pilot car was ready to lead us past the workers at a moderate pace until we were beyond the work zone. Very civilized, but somewhat time consuming. They were working on a stretch that was about 2 miles long, so we could understand why this sort of a setup was required. We headed through Loa, Lyman, Bicknell and Torrey, after which we turned right onto UT-12. After Grover, we caught a brief glimpse of Lion Mountain to the east before the turnoff for Happy Valley Road. We continued on UT-12 (now well into the Capitol Reef National Forest) and stopped at Larb Hollow Outlook for a look.
It is an interesting view of the last part of the contiguous United States to be surveyed due to its remoteness and lack of any real natural resource value. It was a good place to stretch the legs and take a couple of quick pictures. From there, back south along UT-12 into the Grand Staircase - Escalante National Park. The road now was a little more interesting as a driver since it was nothing like a straight line. We went through Boulder (known for Hell's Backbone Grill if nothing else) and then the road took a 90 degree left and got even more curvy than before. There were fewer trees, more scrub now, and long vistas as we curled along the tops of plateaus (some with interesting names like the Hogsback).
The flatter landscape then gave way to more buttes and the road followed the valleys between. Escalante Natural Bridge, Phipps Arch, the switchback at Spencer Flats Road followed by Head of the Rocks Overlook - all worth the time to have a stop and looksee. We had originally planned to drive off UT-12 onto Hole in the Rock Road (aka BLM-200) and take the trail down to see some of the slot canyons, but it was late afternoon and it didn't seem like the smart thing to do since we didn't want to have to come back out after sunset - maybe another time. We then drove through Escalante, UT. The town is named after a Franciscan missionary who's famous for setting out to find a route from Santa Fe to California by heading north; he never set foot in California or apparently anywhere near Escalante. The town is nicely kept but doesn't seem to have much going on that we could see. We continued past Powell's Point, through Henrieville, Cannonville and Tropic to finally make a left onto UT-63 and arrive at Bryce and Ruby's Inn for the night. Interesting...
Ruby's and its environs are an interesting collection of buildings that amount to a souvenir hunter's delight, a bus tour home base and well, it ain't the Ritz. But since it's about the only place to stay for the night it did just fine. The buffet dinner was a gorger's delight and the back half of the hotel smelled quite chlorine like due to the pool. Our delightful room faced the back parking lot so we had a good view of the maintenance folks zipping around on their golf carts doing who knows what. It was remarkably quiet though, but I have no idea what it might be like on a weekend. The key to Bryce I think is the early morning. And so after we ate and had a little walkabout the hotel and its shops, we hit the hay.
Thursday morning, day 7. Up early, 4am. Yes. Early. Why? Sunrise at Rainbow Point, that's why. We grabbed a coffee and checked out of Ruby's, packed up the truck and headed down UT-63 into the park in the dark. There were a lot of deer near the road having a little breakfast, but they were the sort that knew enough not to stand about on the road. The twists and turns past the Lodge, Swamp Canyon, Agua Canyon, Ponderosa Canyon, Black Birch Canyon and finally up to Yovimpa Point and the parking area at Rainbow Point were entertaining in the dark. Not another vehicle was on the road. There was one car parked at Rainbow Point; the gent there was a professional photographer and was taking pictures for a calendar. We waited for the dark to be pushed back by the sunrise; when you see the sun come up over the hills to the east and start to light up the hoodoos in Bryce, well, we both decided it was better than the Grand Canyon. We walked out a little ways on the the Bristlecombe Trail to get the panorama looking back at the canyon, then stood in quite some awe at Rainbow Point itself and had a long onder about all the big things about life that deserve a thinking about in a place like this.
Not wanting to let the sun get too far above the horizon, we drove back along the park road and stopped at each of the canyons noted previously, each of which is a turnout for another spectacular view. Being this early in the park meant there was no jostling for time at the canyon rim or trying to find somewhere to park the truck - ideal. We spent a little more time at Bryce Natural Bridge and Swamp Canyon. And then arrived at Inspiration Point, which held true to its name. We walked up the Rim Trail to Upper Inspiration Point and well, again, words here don't give you any sense of what your eyes see and your soul feels. Take your time here. We didn't take the trail father out to Liberty Castle, but could see it from the higher elevation of Upper Inspiration. The next stop was Sunset Point. Another 'wow'. And then to Sunrise Point.
By now the sun was up, and the people were out, and because we were essentially at the Lodge at Bryce Canyon there was a little more activity, so contemplation of the canyon in solitude was no longer an option. Hikers were starting out on the trails and the buses were starting to appear in the parking lots and on the main park road, so we took our final photos and headed back out of the park. Stopping for gas at the Sinclair station across the street from Ruby's and grabbing another coffee, we hooked left at the lights onto UT-12 heading west toward Zion.
The first part of the journey was quite scenic as the only way to get from Bryce to Zion is to cut through the Red Canyon. At Butch Cassidy Draw, you drive through the Red Canyon Arch and then past a number of trailheads that seem to follow the various washes up into the hills. After getting through the canyon, you end up with a vista of some impressive grassland, flanked on the north by Black Mountain (you're exiting the Dixie National Forest). UT-12 ends at US-89. Zion was a left turn, Panguitch was a right turn.
After the left turn, we followed the Sevier River south through Hatch, Glendale and Orderville until we arrived at the turn onto UT-9 at Mt. Carmel Junction, UT. It was breakfast time, and while we didn't need gas we stopped at the Shell on the corner and topped up the tank anyway. Across the street was the Thunderbird Restaurant that was part of the Best Western; since it seemed to be the only spot in the forseeable future that might be somewhere to eat, we shifted the truck across the street and parked. Now, one thing you should note is that there's a sign out front that back in the day would have meant nothing untoward but in today's vernacular takes on a whole new meaning. The Thunderbird is the "Home of the Ho-Made Pies". On the menu it describes the history of the restaurant, and the reason for the abbreviation on the sign - the sign was made too small for the entire word "homemade" so it was abbreviated, and that makes perfect sense. After very large plates of tasty brunch food, Naomi grabbed a T-shirt from the gift shop (how could you not?) and we headed out along UT-9 to Zion.
The first part of this drive, before you get to Zion National Park itself is more grassland, but once at the start of the park, the road becomes flanked on both sides by checkerboard mesas, which are unique rock formations. The vertical and horizontal fissures are more evident on the north side of the mesa; the left to right deep scratches are due to a north to south wind direction while the vertical cracks are a result of weathering, a cycle of freezing and thawing. The road is a fun drive; lots of twists and turns through the rocks, short and long tunnels carved out of the hillsides and a crazy set of switchbacks at the East Temple / Great Arch as you descend into the valley floor cut by Pine Creek.
The valley opens up as you cross the Virgin River and make a direction change south to the main park visitor's center and beyond that Springdale, where we were staying for the night. Flannigan's Inn (we stayed exactly at N37.194560, E-112.993903) is a small family-run hotel/spa that when you first drive up seems, well, nothing much - but to our delight (perhaps feulled by Ruby's the night before) turned out to be terrific. Our room was a lovely little but spacious cottage with a fireplace. We were really early to check in, so we drove down to the visitior's center at the south end of town and had a little poke around there before deciding we needed some refreshment and lunch. We parked back the Flannigan's and walked back north up the main drag and popped into the Zion Canyon Brewing Company for a little thirst quencher.
Our waiter was a recovering alchoholic who seemed a little hard-pressed to recommend a beverage, and one thing about Utah is that you can't just sit and drink without ordering food. Seemed a little odd, but regardless, we had some variant of the garlic bread (it was hot, so calories weren't the primary focus) with the light ale. The patio was shaded fortunately and did flank the river, so the setting was nice enough but we didn't linger too long. From there we walked over to the main park visitor center to see about collecting a mug and getting some more intel on the park. This was one of our short-drive days, so really it was more of a wind down until our next main stopover in Las Vegas.
After walking back to Flannigan's the room was now ready, so we sat on the porch and had a bottle of wine with some finger foods and watched the comings and goings of a group of aged mountain bikers that were going to head out the next day on a guided ride along the trails through the hills. Afternoon slipped into evening, the sun set on the Watchman peak, and evening slipped father into night and heads hit pillows to rest up for the leg to Vegas the next day.
Friday morning, day 8. Up early, 6am. After a nice chat with the owner of Flannigan's at our checkout, we drove southerly along UT-9 through Rockville, Grafton and Virgin, UT. The sun was up and the skies were perfectly clear as we arrived in La Verkin. Staying on UT-9, the road swings west through Hurricane and as we approached I-15 so did the namesake Red Cliffs. We were making a stop in St. George to get the oil changed in the truck (she deserved a little freshening up too). We were able to call that morning and the good folks at Ken Garff's just off Dixie Drive were able to have her in and out in about an hour. It was hot already and it was only 10am. It was going to get much hotter. Back on I-15, the interstate crosses the Virgin River and then we were out in the desert. Behind us we could see the snow-capped Signal Peak. We crossed from Utah into Arizona to clip the northwest corner of the state on the way to Nevada, and then the interstate snugged back up to the Virgin River, the wide center median disappeared and we entered the start of a narrow canyon; this stretch is very downhill in spots, but the occasional view of the river is quite impressive as are the rock strata that the river cut through. Exiting the canyone, the median reappears as does a long flat vista of desert between the hills on either side. Littlefield, AZ came and went and then we crossed into Nevada on the east side of Mesquite.
The Virgin River peeled south to empty into Lake Mead as we continued southwesterly toward Glendale, NV. Lots of scrub, sand and flat out here. The winds weren't too bad, but the heat continued to rise as we approached high noon. From Gelndale, the interstate took us through the Moapa River Indian Reservation past Ute then through Crystal to Dry lake (which is where North Las Vegas Blvd. actually ends if you're ever tempted to see how far it goes out of the downtown). The first glimpse of Las Vegas happens as you approach Exit 58 for Nellis AFB. From there, we passed the Las Vegas Motor Speedway and entered the urban area of town. Again, we were a little early for check-in at the Mandarin Oriental, so we exited the highway and headed for the premium outlets to kill some time shopping.
The shopping was okay - not great deals given the exchange rate on our loonies, and the heat didn't help too much. We each got some clothes and had a snack but that was about it; it did kill enough time though so it was a useful diversion before heading down the strip to the hotel. And it was interesting to see what a diverse bunch of folks were wandering about - very touristy it seemed, and a lot of purchasing going on. From the outlets, we took Bonneville Ave over to South Main St. and turned south through the Arts District (apparently a neighbourhood in transition, and there was a lot of cunstruction happening). South Main merges into South Las Vegas Blvd. at the Stratosphere Tower (a mini CN Tower); the real strip doesn't get started until you get to the Wynn. Once driving on the real strip my only advice is pay attention; lots of folks driving who might not exactly know where they're going, or if they do know, they don't know how to actually get from the road to their destination. We had the same issue trying to get into the Mandarin Oriental, but after a missed turn into the Aria where one of the bellhops was kind enough to point out we missed it by just a whisker, we found the "secret" entrance to our hotel. Time for a little background - the MO (Mandarin Oriental) is the only hotel on the strip without a casino, so it's supposed to be a little more civilized when it comes to guests who call it home while in town. The folks at the door who took our luggage were super polite, the young gent who hid the truck was certainly convincing enough when I asked about how high the garage was, the cars dotted around the entrance were all worth twice what the truck was at the low end and the lobby was on the 23rd floor. That's one thing they do well (generally speaking) in Las Vegas at the hotels if you're spending a few dollars on one of their better rooms - they treat you really well. We were shown to our room on the 21st floor which was decidedly luxurious, we had a refreshing shower and change of outfits to get the morning's drive and outlet mall off us and headed out for a walk a little ways up the strip to see Vegas in all it's glory. It was windy and hot, the younger amongst the crowd were already 3 sheets to that wind and the tawdry displays of ordinary and/or extra abundant flesh seemed to abound - but the is Vegas, and so you take the good with the bad. We strolled through the shops at Crystals and around the Aria, then through the Cosmopolitan to the Bellagio to see the glass art exhibition hung from the lobby celing; they were transitioning some other large exhibit to a floral something-or-other so we watched the fountains, crossed the street to come back through Paris and Planet Hollywood. Back at the MO, drinks and bites were had at the Mandarin Bar until the need for some real food arrived. Originally, we were going to dine at Twist, but sanity pervailed (who needs to spend $50 USD on an appetizer bouillon? I'm sure it's great, but...) and so we grabbed a perfectly lovely dinner at the MOzen Bistro - the server was great, the food delicious, the wine perfect and the view of the lights on the strip was quite nice. Then it was time to take another little stroll in the cooler air and retire for the night - lots to do tomorrow so needed some rest.
Saturday morning, day 9. Up not so early, 7am. After a slow roll out of bed, acquiring a couple of Starbucks from across the entrance, room service breakfast and some discussion about what the day's plans were, we headed out to walk the strip from top to bottom. Bottom was deemed to be our hotel, since the only thing of any note (possibly) south of where we were staying were the New York-New York, Madalay Bay and Luxor. The plan was to walk up the east side and at some point get across to the west side and come back down to spend a little time in the afternoon relaxing before dinner at Scarpetta followed by the JLo show. The slow meander truly began at Planet Hollywood; we wandered through the place mostly just to find the theatre where the JLo show was going to happen that night and get our bearings. From there, after finding a door aoutside and then descending to street level, we crossed over Paris Dr. and up toward the sandstone L'Arc de Triomphe and into the main lobby of the Paris hotel (the outside of the lobby entrance is supposed to resemble some sort of train station with the cantalever steel and frosted glass). A wander through the entire hotel and casino plunked us into Bally's. We found our way back to the strip through the Grand Bazaar Shops, crossed over Flamingo Blvd. on one of the many bridges and walked into whatever the hotel is on the south side of the Flamingo... A tour through the Flamingo, The Linq, Harrah's, and into and all around the Venetian. That seemed to be enough of the east side of the strip, so across the bridge and down onto the street. Remarkably hot outside. We walked past the waters of the Mirage, but didn't trek into the building itself, then into and through the Forum Shops which lead into Caesar's Palace. Once through that maze, and across the bridge over Flamingo Rd., we were back in the Bellagio. The floral crew must have worked all night to set up the exhibit we'd seen under construction the day before. Don't remember what it was all about, but everyone with a camera was milling about taking selfies. The floral statuary was impressive, the people taking selfies were not. From there we retraced our steps from the day before, taking different routes on different levels of the different but all the same hotels and shopping malls. All the high end stores were well staffed but void of any consumers, the riff-raff were decidedly more riffy-raffy (likey a function of how exciting their Friday nights had been), there were a lot of bride-to-be parties of young ladies wandering about trying to maintain the buzz of the night before. It's all a tiring feast for the eyes to be sure, and everyone is seemingly having fun in theor escapism. We had traversed the strip faster than anticipated, mostly because we didn't stop anywhere much to shop or gamble, so we found a bar at the base of the Cosmopolitan and sat to people watch and have a few cocktails. Once the fun in that had run its course, back to the Mandarin to freshen up for dinner and a show.
Dinner. Scarpetta. Perfect. Food, wine and service. A little stroll after to watch the fountains at the Bellagio. Then a short walk to see the show.
JLo. Seats were good, she had good energy, the backup band was terrific, the monologue was a bit much (but likely necessary to catch a breather), a lot of booty.
After the show, a short walk back to the Mandarin. You get to see more funner things in Vegas after dark, and some things you'd rather not have seen, but that is part of the allure I suppose. We both decided that Vegas had been seen and there was no need to see again. Long day. Early morning tomorrow so we wound ourselves down for the night.
Sunday morning, day 10. Up kinda early, 6am. We checked out of the Mandarin after securing a couple of coffees from the Starbucks to augment the in-room java. The staff again were very helpful and punctual. We drove down Las Vegas Boulevard, past the Luxor and Mandalay Bay and onto Russel Road to get on the southbound I-15. Took the I-215 east to the I-515 southeast. We needed breakfast, and fuel. We took the exit 59 for Horizon Drive (east or west) and found a Chevron that was actually open. Lots of Harley riders seem to get up early in Henderson, NV, and they were doing a good bit of hanging around as they assembled for their morning ride. Interesting how loud they need to play their sound systems (which is odd to begin with on a motorcycle IMHO) to hear their rap music over the grumbling of their pan/shovel/knuckle/flat head engines. Yes, the rap music was a bit of a juxtaposition to the demographic of the riders. Got gas. Then drove some ways down Horizon Drive (the east part) to get to an egg McMuffin and more coffee. Then toodled back to the I-515 and navigated one of the most bizarre intersections ever to get back on the interstate, which promptly ended and turned into US-93. We were headed for the Hoover Dam first. Then the Grand Canyon. Then Monument Valley for the night.
Note to those who want to see the Hoover Dam: get of US-93 at the exit for NV-172. It's the old road that goes across the top of the dam. I'm not sure if you can still drive across the top, because I missed the exit. But I can tell you that there is precious little view of the dam from US-93. When you have a look at things on Google Maps, what you don't notice is that the new bridge (which is impressive) is so high up that the concrete barriers keeping you from plummeting to the gorge floor block the view of the dam because you're so close to it... You can see the part of the Colorado River that flows out of Lake Mead up to the back of the dam, but not the dam itself. So, I failed on that sightseeing opportunity. The views are qite something though along US-93 until you cross through Householder Pass - then you're in the desert, and it's a long striaght drive to get to Kingman, AZ and the I-40. It should only take an hour to drive this, but it just seems longer. The weather was perfect; sun, blue skies, not crazy hot. You don't see much of Kingman unless you skip getting on the I-40 and go into town; we didn't go into town. From there it's east along the interstate past Seligman, Ash Fork and Williams where you take exit 165 onto AZ-64 up to the south rim of the Grand Canyon. Be patient. This 59 miles of road will be slower than you think.
At the south rim. Parking. What to see. How to jockey with everyone else trying to do exactly what you want to do. We arrived just after 11am and things were already busy; unless you are going to camp at the Grand Canyon or stay in lodgings, or are willing to plan your trip to arrive at sunrise, there are going to be lots of folks about. Once parked and a wander through the Visitor Center to see about the mugs, we got ourselves up to the rim of the canyon and wandered westnortherly towards Yavapai Point. The first of the real lookouts is Mather Point where we stopped to take some pictures. You need to understand that you're part of a flow - think herd - and that in order to get to points where there is no man-made things that will make their way into your photos, you have to go with the flow. Watch out for parasols. Once we'd had a walk along the paths and seen the various views, there was a bit of a collective "hmm". It is astounding; but it may simply be the scale of the canyon rather than its beauty that makes one stop and be reflective. I spent most of my time staring at the void wondering what I would have thought had I arrived at its rim 250 years ago on the back of a horse. Would it have seemed as impressive, or is it impressive because of how we live our lives today, mostly apart from nature instead of as a part of nature? Would I have perceived it more as an obstacle than a natural wonder? I'm sure it would have given me pause back in the 1760's, but would there have been the same sort of 'religious' experience most people talk about?
What next? We skipped Yaki Point. The drive east along Desert View Drive was dotted with spots that, if you're able to pull off the road, afford some additional excellent views of the canyon; one of them is at N36.008853, E-111.890793 where you should be able to catch a glimpse of the Colorado River. We cut off the road to go see the Desert View Watchtower. The building is a four-story structure, completed in 1932, and used as a lookout and concession stand. We bought our Grand Canyon mug here. And Bill was kind enough to very slowly let us purchase it and then very slowly 'package for travel'. He was a dear old soul, and gave us one of our favourite trip expressions - thanks Bill.
It was now about 2pm and we hopped back in the truck to continue along Desert View Drive (AZ-64) eastward, over to Cameron, AZ and US-89. We headed north on US-89 until we turned right onto US-160 towards Yuba City, AZ. Just east of Yuba City is a location called "Rare Metals", but it seemed just to be a series of abandoned house foundations; not sure what that was about, nor did googling it provide any insight. After another who knows how long, we arrived in Kayenta, AZ, which is where we needed to turn north to get to Monument Vally. We spent a long time waiting to fill up the tank at the Giant gas station, then went over to the Bashes grocery store to get some nibbles and wine for the evening sunset watching. And because that's just how we roll, we got some McD's to take the edge off the appetite. There was still another half hour of driving to get to our headquarters for the night - The View Hotel in Monument Valley. The last part of day's drive was uneventful, except for missing the turn at Monument Valley Road. It's a little goofy to drive 600 yards into Utah, make a right turn, drive another mile and be back in Arizona, but that's just how things work. We paid our fee to enter the Navajo reserve for the day, and then we were on the doorstep of the hotel. Before checking in we wandered around the north side of the building and had a looksee at the valley - wow. Can't describe it, so not going to try. One of those "you have to see it for yourself" places...
Sunset with wine and cheese was something quite wonderful, and gave us a great night's sleep.
Monday morning, day 11. Up early, 4am. The reason you stay at The View is to watch the sun rise over Monument Valley, so we were up early with coffee made out on the balcony wating for nature to what it does best. The sunrise was remarkable, and again, the pictures don't really do it justice because it is something you have to see in person to understand. Once we had stopped being awed, we packed up our kit, hopped in the truck and headed off back to US-163 and turned east towards Mexican Hat, the first of the sights to see on our way to Santa Fe. Mexican Hat is a rock formation that, yes, looks like a sombrero.
But along the way, don't forget to look behind you - there are lots of spots to pull off the road and get a view of Monument Valley from the east side, and it's quite something as well. Mexican Hat was stopped at and photographed and then left. If you're a movie buff, you might want to stop at Forrest Gump Point and take a picture of the sign marking the end of his cross country run. We didn't. Before you actually get to the rock formation that looks like a smbrero, you cross the San Juan River at the town of Mexican hat - tight right turn at the end of the bridge. After the hat, we continued along US-163 and didn't turn right onto US-191 (aka Mexican Water Road), but continued to Bluff, UT. At the east end of town, we turned right onto UT-162. A short while later, after a little jig-jog at UT-262, we arrived (back) in Colorado and the road became CO-41. The road ends at US-160. The map tells you to turn left. So we turned right. The reason was to see the Four Corners Monument - the point where Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona all meet. We drove across the San Juan River again, into New Mexico (first time) and on the right was the four corners... but we didn't see it. There was an admission charge. And while nominal, the surveyor in me had a hard time thinking that should be something people should have to pay to see. We turned around, headed back across the river into Colorado (again - it was only half a mile). US-160 ends at US-491.
Taking US-491 south to Shiprock, NM take you past some impressive buttes; the landscape is pretty barrent, but the first thing to lookout for is Chimney Rock to the east of the road, not more than a mile after making the turn at Bluff. From there you cross over the Mancos River (it was a dry wash when we saw it) that feeds into Tanner Canyon to the west. A short distance from there is where we crossed into New Mexico (second time). The landscape changes now into more flat desert and continues like that until you get closer to the Shiprock mountain. The native Navajo name is Tsé Bit'a'í which means something close to "rock with wings". The best vantage point to see Shiprock (the rock) is before you get to the town of Shiprock. The name "Shiprock" dates back to the 1870's; the formation is the erosional remnant of the throat of a volcano, and part of the Navajo Volcanic Field.
US-491 ends in Shiprock, NM at US-64. We turned east on US-64 toward Farmington. The highway parallels the San Juan River, which you can see at times to the south. We drove through the south side of Farmington and then continued to Bloomfield where we turned right onto US-550, crossed the San Juan River and headed toward Cuba. Flat. Dry. Until we got past the Apache Nugget Casino (run by the Jicarilla Apache Nation) at NM-537, then you can see a range of mountains to the east and a few evergreens dotted about. We drove into Cuba, NM along Main Street and about the midway point in town we turned left onto NM-126. Once you're out of town, and headed up the first set of hills into the mountains, you'll come across a sign that essentially warns you the road you're on is pretty dicey, and not open in the winter. It's a great drive, great scenery.
Then you get to Forest Road 20. And you're on the dirt. And that's even okay, until you make the first serious right turn, the road goes to one lane and the hard dirt becomes soft sand... Do not try this without 4-wheel drive. As you climb up into the hills, there is one devastating switchback that is like quicksand. Now, you've only got about two miles of the sand to negotiate, but it could ruin your day if you're not ready for it. Once you come out the "other side" the road again is paved and you continue through the Carsen National Forest, see some great views as you begin to descend toward Los Alamos, things like Redondo Peak, and even though the trip down is also thrilling, that little stretch in the middle of nowhere you'll rememeber for a lifetime.
Los Alamos National Labratory. You can go around it, but why would you? We didn't. As we came down out of the mountains, and almost immediately after the last switchback (which is a pretty tight right-hander) we took the left from NM-4 onto NM-501. We drove past a number of interesting looking facilities until we arrived at the gate. It's pretty formidable, but if you have your passports the guards are polite and will let you proceed; they do warn you not to stop (except at the museum), no picture taking, no diversions off the main road, so as long as you follow instructions well, you get to have a looksee at where they work on some pretty interesting stuff. All the road names are anonimized and there's lots of white governement vehicles driving around which adds to the air of mystery.
The last leg of the Monday drive was into Santa Fe. It was early afternoon, so the traffic from Los Alamos to downtown Santa Fe was pretty light. NM-501 joined back up with NM-4 and then turned into NM-502. At Pojaque, we slid right onto US-84 for the trip into Sata Fe, passing 3 casinos and the Santa Fe Opera (which is an outside venue) before exiting at North Guadalupe Street. We turned left onto West San Francisco Street and stopped out front of La Fonda hotel. We had arrived. A little early. The hotel is wonderful, the staff terrific, and the old part of the city charming. Our room wasn't quite ready, so we unloaded our gear with the conceirge, parked the truck behind the cathedral and went for a little wander. We found the Bell Tower Bar where a few beers and a couple of "Daizy" margaritas were enjoyed along with the view. A short walk around the streets closest to the hotel put enough time in the rearview so that once back at the hotel, we were shown to our room - again, stunning. The rest of the day was spent on walkabout exploring the immediate old downtown, having a couple of drinks at the bell tower bar, dinner at the restaurant (yes, you can eat too much of the homemade guacamole) and another evening stroll around the square before a sitting on the grand private terrace off our room to enjoy a drink and the cool evening temps.
Tuesday morning, day 12. Up not so early, 6am. Breakfast on our terrace in the morning sun, all manner of bird happily chirping, cathedral bells announcing the start of the day at 9am. What to do... hmm. Not much really. We could drive up to Taos and have a lookabout. We could wander over to the Georgia O'Keefe museum and have a looksee. Or we could have an unplanned day of wandering around old Santa Fe. And that's what we did. The walk along Canyon Road would have to wait (there was a plan afoot). The one thing about Santa Fe, the old part of town, compared to Jackson as an example, is that it's not trying to be anything it's not. The architecture, the general feel of the place is genuine, not a characiture - it's not a Disney version of a place that used to be something, it genuinely seems to be the way it was. We spent the entire day wandering the old downtown, poking in shops and galleries. Lunch was... don't remember, maybe we skipped it since we were having an early dinner at La Boca. Boots from the Lucchese store, a couple of hats from the satellite Montecristi shop (aka Santa Fe Hat Co.) - O'Farrell's was too snooty, clothes from all sorts of shops, and some blankets from a little store on East Water St. A bunch of little souvenirs including a nice O'Keefe poster all rounded out a good day's spend. A quick break back on our terrace for a refreshment before dinner was in order. And the plan mentioned above was put into action - we both agreed it woudld be far better to have another night in Santa Fe than the planned stopover in Tulsa on the way home; in fact we determined that we might as well drive Santa Fe to Toronto in one shot if that meant more time here. So we made the proposition to the manager who was able to make the extended stay happen without even needing to move rooms. Dinner at La Boca was okay, not stellar, in a somewhat cramped space; we sampled the menu and lingered over a bottle of wine until the heat of the late afternoon had abated. The walk back to the hotel in the dusky sunset was a slow stroll through the Plaza where a group of cowboys and their ladies were dressed in their Sunday finery for a night in town. They stood in a little group and each of the ranchers were kitted out with revolvers in finely tooled leather holsters - the first thought that came to mind was there wasn't any need for concern, since these elder statesmen were the least likely to cause any sort of a ruccous. A little after dinner drink and a recounting of the trip thus far were the end of the day.
Wednesday morning, day 13. Up earlyish, 6am. Another beautiful day of weather ahead. Breakfast on the terrace, chats about the trip, about what was going to occupy the agenda for today. The one thing that was a must do was a wander up and back along Canyon Road. Canyon Road is a long, narrow road that leads to the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. It runs parallel to the Acequia Madre ("mother ditch"), an irritation ditch dating back to 1680, but seems to be the Santa Fe River now, at least according to the signs at each of the bridges we crossed. At its eastern end, the road jogs to become Upper Canyon Road, which turns into a dirt track leading up into the mountains past the audobon center, crosses the Agua Sarca Creek (which I think is a slight misspelling, since Zarca in Spanish means clear and pure and would seem to be a proper descriptor for a creek). Beyond that, past the McClure Reservoir, the dirt track just seems to end... and since the Pecos Pueblo is not in this direction I'm not sure how it's supposedly (prior to Spanish arrival) the old footpath between the Santa Fe River Valley and Pecos Pueblo. Canyon Road was once a primarily residential neighborhood. Houses built in the Pueblo Revival style, in accordance with the local Spanish Colonial and Pueblo methods were constructed with adobe walls and courtyards, often as compounds for extended family. Artists were drawn to its beauty, particularly the Los Cinco Pintores in the 1920s. Olive Rush (1873–1966) was a prominent early Canyon Road artist who maintained a studio at number 630, which she donated to the Society of Friends (still a Quaker meeting hall) and over time, artists created a subculture of artist-run studios and galleries.
Since it was mid-week, the galleries would be opening later in the morning, so we left La Fonda around 10am to head over to start the looksee. Cathedral Place to East Alameda to Paseo de Peralta over the Santa Fe River to Canyon Road. It was already quite hot and dry. We walked up on the south side of the road; it's all very pretty, the little converted homes and occasional walled gardens - touristy without the downmarket feeling. Of note were the studios of Mark White, Corazon Contemporary, Longworth Gallery, Pushkin, Cruz, Canyon Alley, Silver Sun, Mei, Gypsy Alley, Luca Decor, and Alan Kessler. At East Palace Ave, the artists pretty much end, except for the 3 Studios Gallery across the street, so we hopped over to the north side and started our wander back. We'd covered 1.1km and drank 3 bottles of water. On the walk back we stopped in most of the shops and galleries; the garden at the Historic Santa Fe Foundation was a nice pause point. The gent at the Wilford Gallery was kind enough to provide a couple of bottles of water as we eyed the metal windmills. It was an even more intriguing walk back...
We meandered back to La Fonda to refresh and then we decided to have dinner overlooking the Plaza at the Thunderbird, up on the second floor deck. Good burgers and beer. Again, the slow walk back the couple of blocks was a delight. We packed in anticipation of an early departure the next morning and then had a last long linger on the terrace before turning in.
Thursday morning, day 14. Up early, 5am. The day to head home, or the day and a half to be more accurate (in hindsight). We were now going to "pay" for the extra night in Santa Fe, and looking back it was worth it. The day started with showers and final packing, getting the truck around to the hotel from the parking lot behind the cathedral, loading up all the luggage and goodies, setting the route on the map and driving out of town. Down the Old Santa Fe Trail, then down the Old Pecos Trail to get on the I-25, then veering south on US-285 to go across the dessert to get on the I-40 eastbound for home. The intersect of the 285 and 40 is a place called Cline's Corners - the lights from a lonely Philips 66 were the only thing to see; only a couple of cars at the cafe and the sun was still trying to get over the horizon. Santa Rosa, Cuervo, Tucumcari, San Jon and Glenrio all dotted the interstate that took away the old Route 66. We stopped in Tucumcari at the McD's on 1st Street South for some calories and a little refresh. Tucumcari is likely from the Comanche word for ambush. I guess that makes sense. At Glenrio we entered Texas, the 13th state driven into so far. The sun was bright as we drove through Amarillo, the biggest lone star city we'd see. Then Groom, McLean, Shamrock and Texola meant we were in Oklahoma. Nothing much to report. Oklahoma City meant switching to the I-44 heading to Tulsa. Tulsa meant we'd passed Pawhuska and had to jiggy around to stay on I-44 (the Will Rogers Turnpike) to Joplin, Missouri. We waited to be shown something. We stopped in Mt. Vernon after Joplin for another intake of calories for dinner. Springfield, Lebannon, Rolla all came and went. Somewhere past Rolla a truck tossed up a stone that cracked Naomi's window - didn't notice that until the next day as we were in the dark. And it was before bisecting St. Louis at 11pm. Consturction. Traffic. Crazy folks. The arch. It was all a bit much to have 6 lanes of highway choked onto the single lane right shoulder as every bridge for miles seemed to be under repair... Lots of short fuses. And no signs for anything. Once we escaped, we headed onto I-55 headed for Springfield, IL. Not MO, IL, 'cause I guess they ran out of names. We got past the second Springfield, but there wasn't much keeping the eyes open at this point. We didn't make it to Bloomington, or even Normal, so we stopped at a rest area in Funk's Grove. La Fonda in Santa Fe to the rest area in Funk's Grove, IL - 1,187 miles according to Google. Now sleep.
Friday morning, day 15. No sleep, really. After catching a couple of hours of shut eye in the truck at Funk's Grove Rest Area on I-55, we drove north up to the I-80 just east of Joliet, IL starting at about 2:30am, and then rolled east, under Chicago again, over to the same route through Michigan that we'd taken to get out west. We stopped for a McD's breakfast and gas in Bridgman, MI where the folks at the BP station were all talking about a car show they were headed to - nice rides getting some feul - 68 GTO, 65 Impala, 70 Gran Torino... the good news was the sqeegies were all working well and so the bugs were erased from the windows in short order. From there we got to the border; despite a long line to get over the Blue Water Bridge, the gent at the booth was pleasant and we sailed through. Canada, again, almost home. But, where is the coffee shop to have a pit stop? Nowhere. That's another Murphy, or maybe just a southwestern Ontario thing, but there is nowhere along the road from Sarnia to London to have a bio break if you need one. Dumb. We stopped at an On Route past London for a break. Then 403 > QEW > Lakehore > Woodbine and home. 9,346 kilometers (5,807 miles) in 15 days (101 hours of driving).
And I'd do it all again tomorrow. I think Naomi would too.