Rocks

Some photos from the rockier days I've had.  First the Colorado National Monument (at least I think it was, after a while rocks tend to look a lot alike!):

Then there's Arches National Park near Moab, Utah

A view from my campground at Moab:

Here's a nice shot from Zion National Park

What it looks like from the parking lot:



Last night and tonight, camping near Huntsville, Utah.  Huntsville's library is awesome!

Getting There

One of the difficulties of travel is getting directions from the locals.  I've always thought men were funny that way, giving you directions even if they have no idea where they are or where they want to go.,  They still will give you firm directions.  I am finding that women are just as bad.  Everyone wants to be helpful. 

What they do is leave out one essential part of their directions and suddenly you are going off in an entirely wrong direction.

In Utah, they add another wrinkle by giving an erroneous idea about how long your trip will take.

Or some other essential thing.

I told in Beaver, Minersville and Milford yesterday.  At the end of the third set, I asked how long it would take me to get to my next destination, the Dugway military base.  

"Three hours," one of the mothers said.  "It takes me two hours to get to Provo, and another hour to Dugway."  Then she added, "Of course I go a little above the speed limit."

I looked at the map and thought, no, I'll stop around Nephi and camp in the Unita National Forest.  I left and that's when things started to go wrong.

The speed limit on the interstate is 80 miles an hour.  My car gets a little fussy when I go over 70.  Right off the bat, that meant I would never make it to Dugway in the time alloted unless I set my alarm at the camp ground.

Still, I stopped at Nephi and asked a clerk about camping.  "Easy," she said, "It's only two miles up the  road," and she pointed across the highway.  So off I went.  Yes, within two miles I was in the national forest, but not at a campground.  I kept going through stunning scenery, until I came to a campground some five miles later.  It was closed.  The next campground was closed, too.  The signs said there would be another in eight more miles, but would that be open?  I had no way of knowing.  I turned around and drove back to the highway.

The sun was coming down and now it started to rain again.  Once again, no campground for me.   So I had to drive on to Provo. 

I finally saw something recognizable in the dark and rain.  It was Walmart.   I figured if nothing else, I could sleep in the Walmart parking lot.   But no, two Brigham Young university students were in the lot discussing a fishing boat.  They gave me directions to an inexpensive motel.  Wonder of wonder, their directions were accurate and once more, it was a motel for me.

Places

When I drove from Moab, taking Highway 70 west, it was through more rocky country.  It wasn't until after I turned south on Highway 89 that I began to realize what I had been missing for days:  green.  The valley from Panguitch to Kanab was lush with the color, with fat cattle grazing, small farms, trim houses and little villages.  It was a slice of home. 

After the performance at Kanab, it was time to explore.  I drove into Zion National Park, one of the big ones.  My plan was to take the shuttle for a tour.  With my sore leg, that was the only option. To do so I had to drive all the way through the park east to west.  I was impressed with the towering canyon walls.  A little chipmunk scurried across the road in front of me.  Did my car seem a giant to him, or was it puny considering his home?  And I was I puny considering the rock?  And was the rock puny considering the size of earth, and up through the universe, galaxies and space in general?  I suppose everything is relative. 

I got all the way through the canyon to find the shuttle parking lot full.  I finally found a space in the picnic area, but realized I would have to walk too far to get to the shuttle.  Besides, if the parking area was full, what were my chances of even getting on the shuttle?

Again, too many tourists.  One can take photos of the canyons, but one has to shoot above the RVs.

I sat at the only free picnic table to eat an apple and pore over the maps and brochures, figuring out my next move, when a Taiwanese family joined me. We chatted about the usual, where we'd come from, where we were going.  One of the sons dismissed Wisconsin out of hand:  no China town, he said.  Ah, said I, but we're getting a Chinese restaurant in Seymour.  We talked about Nanching, where I had taught English, and I admitted it was even hotter there than in Utah.  They asked if I had a knife.  I did and the papa used it to carve up some oriental melons he had found in an Asian store and shared two pieces with me.

They left and two lizards and a squirrel joined me.  I conversed with them for a while but kept my distance.  A similar lizard once crawled up my pantsleg in a California desert.  When we tried to pull him out, his tail came off.  I finally had to drop my pants in full sight of cars passing by on a highway to get the little guy out.  I didn't want to do that in Zion!

I decided to leave the hordes of tourists (I am a bad little tourist, remember) and drove out of the park heading west when I spotted it:  "Virgin Goods"!  Not that I was in the market, but I had to see what that was.  It was a used book store.  I popped in to see if there was a copy of Refuge, by Terry Tempest Williams, and there was, but it was a signed copy, out of my price range.  Lee Ballard, the owner, took time for a long chat.  Virgin is the name of the town, named for the Virgin River, and I have no idea what that was named for.  She also runs the adjacent post office which is how she makes a living.  The rare book store is more an obsession.  I asked her if she was the lone liberal in a sea of conservatives and she said yes.  I told her I have often been in the same boat but it's one way to stand out in a crowd.

I don't know about the touristy stuff, but I always meet interesting people.

And so I drove north, winding up in Beaver City for the night.  Another deluge, another motel.  How many nights does it have to rain?

The Kindness of Stangers

Nikki Kallio commented:  Somewhere I saw a picture of a road sign that was in some rugged mountainous place like Tibet that said, "Bash On Regardless."

That certainly does describe this portion of the tour.  I have it easier than the early Mormon settlers to Utah, but still:  100 degree heat that melted my lipstick and part of the plastic on one of my shoes.  Air conditioning that failed early on.  Coolant crises.  Vapor locks that have to be tended.  A wonky knee from twisting to get at things in the car, made worse by going on hikes. 

Gary keeps calculating the number of miles he'll have to drive to rescue me.  Chris thinks about getting me an airline ticket.  My heroes want to save me, but on I go.

Bash on!

People along the way help.  Yesterday morning, Wendy, another camper from New York, noticed I was limping and came over to help me take up my tent. Charlotte, the children's librarian at Moab, sent her children running errands for me to save me steps. 

On my drive toward my next destination, I had to stop at a high "view area" to rest the Sable again. Once again, steam was pouring out. and there was that ominous bubbling.  With the temperature again at 100 degrees, I figured I would be there for at least half an hour.  I was preparing to mix another batch of coolant
when a young Hispanic couple tried to come to my rescue.  They spoke not a word of English.  I can say "adios", "senor", and "hola" but that didn't get us very far.   She went off to look for water at the restrooms, but I could have told her forget it.  There is no such thing at the waysides in Utah.

He looked at the engine.  From what I could follow, he studied mechanics in Ohio.  He thought the problem was the thermostat, which is what the guys at Jiffy Lube told me.  He also thought that doing anything about the thermostat would require removing parts of the engine, not likely.  So he helped me mix the coolant with the water I had brought, and in a short while I was on my way again. 

During all this, gringo tourists came and went.  Their contribution was to take photos of my car and my friends.  I suspect with the deep tan I now sport, they thought we were all Hispanic and these were photos they could exhibit to show their friends what a shiftless lot we were.  I thought a children's sermon on the Good Samaritan would be in order.

Last night, in a thunderstorm, I stopped at a motel.  The owners, from India, gave me their cheapest room, but then called me back and handed me another key.  They'd noticed my limp and told me I needed a good soak in a tub.  I wound up with their best room at no extra charge. 

I always depend on the kindness of strangers, and so often they are strangers from another ethnic background.  Why is that?

July 3 and 4

I survived the fire ant infestation at Blue River mostly because they left me alone.  One sole ant wandered over for a visit, but I squashed him, not feeling neighborly.

The rest of July 3 was a drive across the state of Colorado.  Because I was losing elevation, the car behaved itself and I made it to Grand Junction in record time.  Since I was going downhill, I suspect the gas mileage was around 30, but I haven't worked out the math yet.  I had my second motel stay at Grand Junction.  It was 100 degrees as we went into the evening hours.  I would pass on the tent.

The next day, I had a leisurely morning doing laundry, catching up on bookwork, the usual.  I threw out a few more pieces of useless junk, too, making it easier to find essentials.

Several people advised me to go to the Colorado National Monument at Grand Junction and so I did, without realizing the drive was up cliff faces with no place to turn around.  The temperature still hovered at 100 degrees.  The Sable was not a happy car.  I helplessly watched the temperature gauge go up, up, up, and steam begin to leak out.  Finally, a mile from the visitor's center , I found a layby.  I opened the hood and sat around sipping water as I waited for the car to cool down.  It took almost half an hour.  I added new coolant, turned around and went back down.  I had seen enough of the Colorado National Monument.

By that evening, I was at Moab, Utah.  I toured the Arches National Park, loving the scope of the thing.  I like spaces so big that I don't run into anyone else and I found those there.  I asked a ranger about a good place to stay for the night and she suggested "Sandy Flats" but when I got there, I found a sign that said "Closed for Fireworks".  I had never heard of a campground being closed for fireworks but I returned to town and set up camp at the edge of a cliff at an RV park. 

As the sun went down, other campers and RVers began  to gather near my tent.  Across the town, against the canyon walls, the fireworks display began, centered at Sandy Flats.  All was revealed.  

Despite the danger of fire, the show had to go on, even to having fire trucks racing around to put out grass fires.  

I sat with a German woman.  Ooohing and Aaaahing are the same in any language. 

July 2 - Coolant Problems

Let's see, where did I leave off? I think it was having coolant problems.

Betty and Mike took me out to eat at a Mexican Restaurant, Mike took care of my computer which was running slow. Basically, I have too much stuff on here. It needs a major deletion effort, but that will have to wait until I get home. Betty and I caught up on gossip. She knows more about what's going on in Seymour than I do and she hasn't lived there for years!

After staying the night with the Appletons, they took me down to my car at Chuck's Corner.  Still there. Mike poured water into the the coolant well to see if it would go through but it didn't.  Betty had loaded me up with water and nectarines which came in handy. They had to meet a plane in Denver so they led me down to Indiana Avenue in Golden. They went left, I went right until I came to the “Big O” (really, that's its name) which was a garage. They did a cursory check. Nope, the problem wasn't in the hose, but there was no mechanic to do any work. I had coolant and water so I decided to charge ahead anyhow. If I had to stop every twenty minutes, I would. I'm obsessive about making my bookings.
My first overheating was still at the edge of Golden. I pulled off and went into a coffee shop for a cappuccino. While I drank it, I chatted with the guy at the counter who told me to just take it to Jiffy Lube, right around the corner. Excellent advice! Chains always have the required mechanics and they did. They explored the entire coolant system and came to the conclusion my problem was that the car was tuned to Wisconsin levels. My problem was not the car, it was the altitude. So, they sent me on my way with the same advice, add coolant as needed.
At Empire, I was overheating again. I stopped at the first place that looked open, the 1860 Tap. It was an ancient bar with lots of old guys drinking beer. I talked to the barkeeps about my problems, with the old guys listening in. I asked about a place to camp but they suggested the Peck Hotel. I went over to take a look. It was the oldest hotel in Colorado and beautiful it was with a long veranda and comfy chairs. It sounded like heaven but the restaurant was gourmet, the price was high and with no Internet connections in town, it didn't seem the right place to spend the night. Besides, it was too early.

I went back to the pub and ordered some ice cream. Ice cream solves everything.

As I thought about my options, Bob, one of the older old guys, started talking to me about his new pup. He'd had an old dog that he'd babied through many illnesses until the final put down. Oh the sorrow he'd felt. Then two weeks later, someone told him to come see a puppy. No, said Bob, I can't have another dog. I wouldn't be able to stand it. But he went and looked anyhow, and there was the spitting image of his old dog. Now he is training again.
I shared my photo of Jake Dog, he showed me the photos of his dog. It turned out that Bob was a retired mechanic. He took a look at the car, measured the coolant and water and did the first refill. He sent me on my way with a jug of proper coolant.
I filled the reservoir one more time that day, but once I passed the great divide, it was all downhill and things began to improve.
The campgrounds were busy with 4^th of July campers, but at Blue River in the White River National Forest, I found site no. 1 unfilled. Some Germans were there in the Mercedes Benz RV they had shipped over from Germany. I'd seen one of these before down in Texas. Amazing contraption, more a truck than anything. But site 1 was too small for them. They went on leaving site 1 to me.
The site was set aside from the other camp sites on a high hill. Adjacent was a campground loop that was closed. Some folks from Moab and I went over to take a look. It was infested with fire ants. Yuck, and I was right next to it. But my tent was up, the sun was near to setting, so I just zipped the tent shut and went right to sleep.

A Few Photos

I am in Grand Junction, Colorado.  In the morning, it's Utah.  I will write more in the morning before I leave, but tonight I am too tired to do more than show you some photos of some of the places I've been.

 This was the Avery Natural Bridge Park in Wyoming.  That's my camp site on the other side.

The Cache las Poudre River doing its best to to overflow its banks as I try not to fall in.

The view from the hiking trail at Jack's Gulch.

The trail I hiked while letting my car cool down.

The campsite at the Blue River Campground in the White River National Forest.