Road Trip 2022: Hotel Cats and Dinosaurs

 

Ernest Hogan has posted his account of our road trip through eight Western states on Mondo Ernesto, and that has prodded me into linking my blog with his and telling my own version of the tale. Road-tripping is America’s favorite pastime, especially post-COVID, but it’s an odd landscape we’re all driving though these days, with high gas prices and wildfires throwing obstacles in our paths. We solved half that problem by picking up my brother Michael’s hybrid Prius in Flagstaff (it gets 50 mpg), but we quickly discovered that our plan to take AZ 89a north to hook up with the 160, which would then take us to the 191, was not gonna fly. Monster fires on either side of 89a forced ADOT to close that highway to everything but emergency vehicles. In honor of that semi-apocalypse, it seems only fitting that I post a photo of the ponderosa outside Michael’s house in Flagstaff, which survived a fire about 20 years ago.

 

Michael had been expressing wonder for weeks that gas prices in Phoenix were so much higher than he had seen them anywhere else (except for California). The Shell station on the corner near our house had the price of unleaded at $5.99 per gallon at one point, but it had settled down to $5.69 by the time Ernie and I started our trip (as of this writing it’s at $4.59, and I’m harboring fond hopes that it will drop below $4 by the end of the summer). Our spirits were high, but we could tell there were some political tensions brewing over the world in general and the U.S. in particular, what with the hearing about Jan 6 being held in D.C., the war in Ukraine, and the Supreme Court getting ready to hand down a decision that looks like it might change the usual course of elections in the midterms. I was happy to be taking a step back from all that, though I couldn’t escape the wildfires up north. We decided to drive east on I-40, then take 191 north all the way up through AZ and Utah. It turned out to be a wonderful (if somewhat confusing) route. We needed to consult our Arizona Road Atlas when 191 fragmented near the northern border of AZ, seeming to go left when we needed to go right. We sorted it out and headed for Blanding, Utah, where we thought we would get the best Navajo Tacos in the world for late lunch/early supper.

 

Alas, we were thwarted in that ambition. Twin Rocks Café was closed for the day, due to staffing issues. The lady there recommended the Cottonwood Steak House, where this Jackalope resides. 

 

Our ambition was to get to Grand Junction, Colorado, by 9:00 p.m., and we made it just about on the nose. Michael had already checked into the room – our intrepid driver was on board, and we were ready to take the road by storm, lattes and fast-food chicken sandwiches in hand. It was odd to have so much sunlight left in the sky at 9:00 p.m., but it turned out to be handy on this trip. We often did so much shopping, driving, and sight-seeing, we needed that extra light as we motored into each stop at the end of our day.

 

On the morning of our second day, we met a hotel cat. We snagged some Einstein Bros Bagels and coffee, and drove north to Dinosaur, Colorado, named after Dinosaur National Monument, which is technically in both Colorado and Utah. The part that people visit is in Utah. 

Considering how hot it is this summer in so many parts of the world, this ice-cream-eating dino must be a popular guy.

 

The formations out of which the dino bones have been excavated were sand bars that formed after a mega-flood, sweeping up the poor, giant creatures and burying them in a mass, prehistoric grave. I’m assuming that eventually the bones in the topmost section began to stick out when the sandstone around them eroded away, and people recognized what they were seeing. 

It was the jackpot, because several intact skeletons were in there. The visitor’s center features some bronze reproductions of some of the dinosaurs that were removed.

 

There’s a hike not far from the old dig site (which has its own museum), and of course we had to trek that way, snapping pictures as we went. 

Michael had his ideas about what we should photograph (he’s a director, not a cinematographer), and once we were done with the dig site, we also had to find the petroglyphs and hike up to them, as well. They were worth the effort. 

We captured ancient spirits in our infernal phones.

 

When we drove to nearby Vernal, there were plenty of things in town that also needed to be documented.

We stayed at the Dinosaur Inn (this was de rigueur) and ate supper at what the clerk assured us was the best Mexican restaurant in town, Raza Mexican. It was kind of a huge meal, and we should have probably split a plate, but it was good.

 

We would be off to Idaho and the City of Rocks the next day. Things were just getting started . . .

 

I admire the hanging baskets you can see on city streets in Northern Utah and in Idaho. We could never get away with those shenanigans in Arizona.

 

There’s a lot more to this trip. Follow if you dare.

Last Day Blues: Pandemic Road Trip Part 16

"If you want to know where to get good coffee in any town," Michael advised, "ask a cop."

Not that we went looking for one. It's just that we were looking for morning coffee, and we saw a police officer. Michael asked, and the fellow told him "Look for Wanderlust Cowgirl Coffee" (another drive-through style place). "My son Troy works there. Tell him Micah sent you."

For a good fifteen minutes I thought Micah was named after the mineral. Then I recalled the name is in the bible.

Troy was wearing his mask and social distancing like a good guy -- he only took it off so I could take his photo. And he is a most excellent barista, so stop in if you're passing through.

What's funny is that my Mom had already had a 16-oz caramel hazelnut decaf latte at Sevier Valley Coffee, and two hours later she wanted another one. So we found Wanderlust Cowgirl Coffee in Panguitch and got her another one. After all, that little lady needed all the calories she could get. Come to think of it, I may have had a second one, myself.

My email notes were the most phoned-in of the entire trip:

I-70

Paria Beach, Lees Ferry 

In my defense, Utah is so crowded with wonders, you're not going to feel compelled to point your eyes at a phone. For instance, as we headed south on HWY 89, we passed Big Rock Candy Mountain.

It has its own convenience store, too.

Yet somehow, I ended up taking more pictures of small town stuff than of geological wonders in Utah. Like nifty buildings.

And this one over here.

And that one over there.

Oh look, there's another one.

Looka the nice porch.

And the gorgeous public building, upon which considerable moolah and care were lavished.

But wait, there were also these wacky vehicles.

All in the same yard.

In Hatch we saw a couple of hitchhikers.

Our plan was to drive through Kanab and into Arizona. From there 89 becomes 89a and veers around the southern border of Vermilion Cliffs National Monument, mostly because a gigantic erosion feature called Grand Canyon makes it impossible to go straight south. Michael wanted to show us one of his favorite fishing spots, Paria Beach at Lees Ferry, in Marble Canyon.

Rivers are cool, especially for the sediments they erode and deposit, but the features I find most interesting are washes. They epitomize the desert. "Water has been here, but not right now, and not for you, sucker. Until the moment you're not looking, and then you're gonna drown."

I especially love the rocks you can find in washes.

By the time we left Lees Ferry, the day was waning. I was already pretty sure we wouldn't make it back to Flagstaff in time to turn around and leave for Phoenix, but at least we were able to get the rental car back and not get charged for an extra day. We went to the market with Michael and got steaks, and family cooked up a wonderful supper. Ernie and I ended up back at Michael's workshop for the night. Full circle.

For the record, you can see an amazing number of stars in the night sky over Michael's workshop. You can see through our galaxy and into the next one. I stood there and reflected on two weeks of road trip wonder. I started to scheme about the next one. Part of it would have to pass through New Mexico, so Mom could see her radio telescopes at the VLA again.

That's never going to happen. 

The night of the 13th wasn't a good one for Mom. By the next day she was herself again, and she was so ambitious when we got home to Phoenix, she cleaned out a couple of drawers. But she started to decline steeply after that. The day after Thanksgiving, she couldn't even speak. That's the case about every other day now.

She did the two things she was still hanging on to do. Honestly, I think she would go on another trip if she could. Her will is still strong. It's her body that's giving out. I respect her decision.

Tomorrow, the Aftermath. Spoiler alert: there's an amazing amount of laundry.

Rifle CO, Hardass Town: Pandemic Road Trip Part 15

Holy crap, November 12 and we were still on the road, still looking for coffee joints. In Glenwood Springs, charming neighbor of chi-chi Aspen, we found The Bluebird Cafe. If we could afford to live in Glenwood Springs, I would be going to this cafe several times a week (if not every day).

I may have already stated this for the record, but I feel compelled to reiterate that tourist towns should remember that people drink coffee and people eat breakfast, sometimes as early as 6:00 a.m. Perversely, many places don't open until 8 or 9. Though I have to admit, Ernie and I were pretty much the only customers in Bluebird. So possibly I'm just being an entitled jerk.

Michael wanted to make sure we took pictures of the old storefronts that were built in the early days of the town.

And right next door . . .

However, it turns out that quaint old buildings were not the main attraction of Glenwood Springs. Technically that would be Glenwood Canyon. But I'm not talking about that, either. I'm talking about the Habitat for Humanity ReStore.

I've been to ReStores in other towns, and let me tell you, they are not in the same galaxy as this place. Apparently being so close to Aspen means they get the good stuff. Like this Steinway made out of Brazilian Rosewood, a wood so rare it can't be exported anymore (the piano was probably made sometime in the 60s).

This was one of several pianos, though it was the only one made of rosewood. They had a lot of really cool stuff, and I took a lot of pictures. Honestly people, if you need to furnish a house or office, come to this place and get everything shipped.

My little house couldn't hold furniture this big, but I can dream.

Seriously, I may as well add a gigantic dining table to keep my gigantic coffee table company.

Add a sideboard. The lamps are nice, too.

Add some artsy-fartsy decoration.

And an adorable thrift-store dog. But the best buy was out front.

We couldn't buy anything from the ReStore, we could only form unwise ambitions for an uncertain future, but on the way back through town, we stopped at the Community Thrift, and I snapped this photo of a fallen angle and his friend, the pug, and then my camera battery died.

My camera had its own battery, a rechargeable thing that had never given up the ghost on a road trip despite heavy usage, but on the other hand, I had never taken photos for 2 weeks straight without recharging. So I had to switch to my phone camera for the rest of the day.

While I'm thinking about it, here are my email notes:

Rifle CO, hard-ass town

Yampa River

Glenwood Canyon

Meeker Rt13 CO

 Our plan was to drive across Utah on I-70, then make the long haul back to Flagstaff on HWY 89. Michael pulled over quite a lot, enthralled with the landscape. At one point I took the photo that summed up the trip.

I-70 passes through some fascinating terrain.

The town of Fruita also has some interesting sights.

Dinosaur's are just a thing in Fruita. But at least they practice safe social distancing.

The sedimentary deposits in Colorado and Utah from the Mesozoic are still intact (they've mostly eroded away in Arizona), so there are plenty of dinosaur bones to find. Utah is a class unto itself as far as scenery is concerned. Wonder after wonder greets you as you turn every corner. I-70 cuts through an extensive line of up-thrust rock called the San Rafael Reef (or San Rafael Swell).

Deeper into Utah, I took the essential road trip photo.

We settled for the night in Salina, Utah. There was a popular Mexican Restaurant in town, El Mexicano, where Ernie and Michael picked up supper. While they were wrangling supper, I plugged my camera battery charger in and plugged in the battery. It took a couple of hours, but it charged like a charm. The next day, I would be able to snap like a fiend again.

On TV, the political storm still raged. Threats and imprecations flew. But I had a feeling it was all steam, vented by a monster who had never believed he could be stopped. Soon we would be going home, doing a mountain of laundry, apologizing to pets for our absence. But we had one day left. We were going to make it count.