Our journey continued onward from Yellowstone and into the Grand Tetons. The stunning,
jagged giants of the Tetons were not as clearly visible as we would have
hoped due to a fair amount of smoky haze in the air from ongoing fires in Idaho
and northern California. Passing through
Jackson Hole, we eventually stopped for the evening at Station Creek
Campground, right along the Snake River in Bridger Nat’l Forest. There we met Richard Ricks, a good soul with
a big heart and strong passion for the outdoors and white water rafting. Richard informed us that he had been rafting
for the past fifteen years, and rowing himself for the past two. His zest for rowing and guiding others
downriver was exceptional. After greeting us at the campsite, he offered to take
us on a private rafting adventure in exchange for ensuring that his companion,
Copper, a sweet old dog of seventeen years, didn’t abandon ship. Copper seemed to really enjoy rafting too, and
she would usually sit with her front paws up on the edge, peering over the side
as if she were ready to jump in after a fish.
Richard hadn’t quite figured out yet whether this behavior meant that she
was afraid, ready to mutiny, or was just loving the ride and anxious to see
things up close.
Nevertheless, we
were grateful for such a rare opportunity to raft for free with a personal
guide who possessed intimate knowledge not only of the river’s geologic features
and recent physical alterations, but also of the local fauna. We talked and laughed and had a great old
time as we plunged through Triple Shot and Kahuna, getting a wee bit soggy
along the way. And boy did that water
feel refreshing!
We managed to get some
beautiful shots of the river and surrounding mountains, but were unable to
fully capture for you the smells in the air of fresh, mature pines surrounding
us and the briny undertone of wild trout from the clear, cold mountain waters drying
quickly on our sun-drenched skin. When
we completed our eight-mile trek, Richard asked us if we might email any good
photos to his mum and daughter, mainly to show them he wasn’t traversing these
waters alone. We gratefully obliged the very
next day. It was a special treat getting
to know Richard and sharing such a wonderful experience together. We’re so grateful to you, Richard! J
From there, we
continued our drive south on the 89, briefly passing into Idaho for literally a
few minutes before returning to Wyoming and then seeing Utah’s welcome
sign. Before long, it was that time
again, so we stopped in the Wasatch Nat’l Forest and made our camp along the
Bear River where we were the only souls in sight. When we rolled into camp the weather was
perfect, the light was dancing on the leaves of the birches and our campsite
was literally right beside the babbling Bear River which looked more like a
stream. As we pitched the tent, dark clouds rolled in and the winds began to
increase. We managed to get a decent fire going to cook our dinner, but after
we ate we decided it was best to retire to the tent for the remainder of the
evening to avoid the rain.
That night our
sleep was restless. Being alone in a campground with no host or ranger, or
anyone else for that matter, has its pros and cons. We were in the heart of
bear country, and with no other folks around, Venus was on heightened alert due to our vulnerability. That night, she had a dream that a bear was pressing onto
the tent and sniffing at a bar of soap inside. Venus awoke abruptly and had trouble
getting back to sleep. At about 4am the sky was as clear as still water and
innumerable stars dotted the blackened sky. She finally was lulled back to
sleep by the perpetual conversations of the river spirits. It was chilly that night, but thankfully not
as cold as Yellowstone.
Rising early
Monday morning, we continued south through Provo and then east in search of
warmer climes. We reached Moab in the
afternoon, and were awed by the red rocks and fault lines surrounding the area
known as the Arches, or Arches Nat’l Park.
We made a brief drive-through of the park, barely keeping to the road as
our heads turned left and right to gaze upon the faces of all the Stone People
greeting us. This was a magical,
mystical, and very sacred place indeed.
We decided then and there that we must return in the morning to hike
around and feel the powerful energy emanating from this ancient city of rock.
We stayed at a
motel in Moab that night and enjoyed some good Mexican food at La Hacienda
before falling asleep in a comfortable bed. The next morning it was back to the
Arches. We got off to an earlier start for we had quite a few plans for the day:
Arches, Natural Bridges Nat’l Monument, and hopefully, if time permitted, get
ourselves into the Grand Canyon before dark. We started out with an early
morning hike in the Arches, hiking through one of the popular trails there. We
wound through a maze-like vista of soft, rounded rocks of terracotta hues. Portions
of the trail were sandy and some were rocky, all that same terracotta color.
After about an hour, we turned around to make our way back to our vehicle and
onward to Natural Bridges.
Natural Bridges
was a much smaller park with only one two-lane road that encircled the area,
giving us high vistas of deep canyons with bridges that kind of
resembled arches like those we had seen at the previous park. The rock there
was yellowish-white and the surrounding area was pretty well covered with
juniper trees, their trunks twisted and weathered as though they were easily on
their 200th year. We snapped a few photos and took in the splendid
views, then continued onward.
The ride out of the park was a bit more exciting,
a little more stressful than we would have ever imagined. We came down pretty steep
roads, and then arrived at a part of the road called the Moki Dugway that the
map had pointed out as being a dirt road, but it failed to warn of the hairpin
turns and deadly drop-offs that we encountered. The speed limit was 5mph and
with good reason. We kept envisioning ourselves in the time before cars, as we
would have gotten through that stretch probably just as fast if we were on
horses, maybe even faster. The view from the Dugway was nothing short of
spectacular, and one could see for miles and miles. We saw a pyramid shaped
rock in the distance and huge mountain ranges. It almost didn’t look real from
that vantage point, were it not for the wind reminding us in hushed whispers
that we were indeed on the edge of a great wide open space.
As we got on the 163,
we entered the lands of the Navajo Nation. There were numerous outposts of
Navajo people selling their jewelry and crafts. Curious and willing to
patronize these native peoples in hopes of a conversation and some insight into the spiritual history of
these great lands, we stopped and perused their wares. We were greeted by a stout,
dark skinned man who asked us where we where from. We
told him we were from Boston and he took the opportunity to try out his own
rendition of a Boston accent, inquiring about the "Red Saahks." We chuckled and he
continued to tell us that he was a welder who was having a hard time finding
work in his field, so he and his wife made and sold jewelry to supplement their
income. Venus purchased a beautiful buffalo bone necklace carved into the shape
of a long tooth with the head of an eagle at the end and attached to a leather
cord. Jack purchased a simple necklace with tiny orange beads and dried juniper
berries. Our proprietor said the berries were known to ward off evil spirits and bring good luck. After chatting a bit more, we thanked him for his service and
continued on our way.
We couldn’t help
but notice how many of the towns in the Navajo Nation seemed run-down and in
need of restoration. We felt a tinge of sadness mixed with unnecessary guilt
for these people and their ancestors who had had so much taken away from them. We often sensed the
disdain they seemed to have for tourists while still sharing a codependence via the income they received from us. That night, after a full day of travelling in
the dry heat, we stayed in Kayenta which seemed a transition
between the Navajo lands and the Grand Canyon Park. We ate dinner at the
hotel’s restaurant where all of the staff were clearly indigenous people. Jack
had a native lamb stew with fry bread and honey and Venus had Buffalo wings and
a Cobb salad. Our waitress, Rosie, was a very sweet native woman somewhere in her
sixties, but it was hard to tell her exact age. After dinner, we visited the gift shop where Venus
bought a Native American cedar flute with an authenticity label indicating that
it was made by a native with his name and picture on the tag. At the
restaurant, we noticed that many of the other guests at the hotel were European,
mainly French and Germans. We were a little surprised due to the ongoing state
of the European economy, but we realized that, like ourselves, there are always
people who are doing okay regardless of the current economic trends.
The next morning
we got off to another early start, wanting to get the most out of the daylight
hours. We stopped for breakfast in a small town called Tuba City in the heart of the Navajo
lands. The portions were absolutely enormous! And we couldn’t finish them even if we
hadn’t eaten in days. But the service was good and the natives in this town
seemed a little friendlier and not quite as put off by our presence. We had a
nice conversation with the woman at the table next to ours. She and her husband
were from Abruzzo, Italy and were driving a motorcycle through the Southwest. She
recommended we take a mule ride through the Grand Canyon.
We then continued
driving along the hot, dusty desert road until we came through the eastern
entrance of the Canyon called Dessert View. The park was run like a ship with
perfectly maintained roads and crews updating the walking areas near the
visitor center. We stood at the edge of the rim, mesmerized and awed by that
endlessness of the Canyon, bigger than we could have ever imagined. It teased
us with its depths. We went into the visitor center and Venus bought a native
made dream catcher to use later in her dream circle work. Jack bought postcards
that many of you have already received. We then went back to our car and made
our plan for the day as it was just about lunchtime and we had plenty of
daylight left to enjoy. We decided to go to a campground called Ten X that a
park ranger had recommended to us, just outside of the park in a town called
Tusayan. The ranger said it was rustic and rarely ever fills up, definitely our
style. The camp hosts were a really nice elderly couple who had been hosting
there for five years. They told us about a good pizza joint where the food was
consistently good, and they warned us that Tusayan has the most expensive
McDonald’s in the U.S., second only to Tokyo for most expensive in the world.
Good thing we don’t eat at fast food chains. They also told us how awesome the
helicopter rides are and gave us a couple of coupons. So we went to our campsite, pitched our tent
and went to get some yummy pizza and a helicopter ride.
After our first
ever chopper ride, we went to the Geology Museum and learned a few cool things
about the rocks and water’s effects on them over deep geologic time. We walked along the rim before going to the
IMAX theatre to see a film about the secrets of the Grand Canyon. It was well produced and was good educational
entertainment. While we were getting our tickets, we realized that we had been
living an hour behind the time zone and were pleased to know that we had gained
an hour. Then we were off to Sophie’s across
the street for some great street tacos and a funny photo op before returning to
Ten X, making a nice fire and then heading to bed early.
Why so early? Because, while we were chilling out in the
tent that afternoon, we decided to call the Havasupai Nation to see if there
were any available camp sites for the next night. Luckily, they had just received a cancellation,
which meant we were going!!! Venus had
always wanted to see Havasu Falls, located within the reservation, so this was
a dream come true. Thank you, universe!
On Thursday, we
awoke at 5:30am, broke camp in record time, brushed our teeth and hit the road
south on the 64, then west on the 40 before jumping on the historic Route 66 and
seeing the famous Burma-Shave jingles along the roadside. We were looking for
Indian Highway 18 that lead to the hilltop parking area where we would begin
the eight-mile hike down into the Grand Canyon and eventually into the
Havasupai Nation’s remote little village.
We got to the hilltop around 9:45am and started walking down the steep,
dusty winding trail about an hour later.
What a challenging and somewhat grueling hike! It took us four and a half hours, which was
good considering we were carrying all of our gear on our backs, unlike many
folks who opted for the mules to sherpa their belongings.
As we reached the
bottom, we hiked through an old dried-out riverbed. The whole atmosphere was incredibly beautiful!
The rocks were terracotta colored and worn by the flow of water from countless
ages past. There were native peoples riding in and out with tourists’ packs on
the backs of hard-working mules and other natives sitting in the deep crevices
of the rock, taking a break from the intense sun and brutal heat. Hikers
passing by were obviously drained and had empty expressions from overworked
muscles and sore feet.
We arrived at the
village around 3pm and got our first glimpse of the clear turquoise waters. The
waters in Havasu are renowned for being clear turquoise blue due to the white
travertine that naturally lines all the pools and riverbed. The contrast of
color between the terracotta rocks and blue waters is quite surreal and words
don’t really even begin to describe the wondrous beauty of this place.
The local store
was filled with chips, soda and candy, the children and adult natives were
mostly all overweight, and there seemed to be only a couple of homes with small
gardens, mostly growing corn. We were
concerned by the lack of sustainability in the natives’ way of living down here,
and we hope that sooner rather than later, some of those folks start growing more
of their own food and stop relying on the helicopter shipments for their sustenance.
After a much-needed lunch at the local café
(great burrito and burger), we continued for three more miles to the
campground. Venus was exhausted and a
bit dehydrated, and Jack’s legs and neck were junk, but the pain was so worth
it! We pitched the tent and went
straightaway to Havasu Falls for a memorable dip in the crystal blue waters and
some gazing at the majestic waterfall. The water was cool and full of mineral
deposits. It felt great on the skin and gave our hair extra body. We sat for a
while at a picnic table overlooking the falls. The breeze was at once warm and
dry and then cool and moist from the mist rushing towards us from the falls.
Dark storm clouds started rolling in around 6pm, so we headed back to camp and
took a short nap. We woke up to some
light rain, distant lightning, and a harried group of German tourists
frantically relocating their camp (“Macht schnell, macht schnell!”) next to
ours because it wasn’t windy there against the canyon wall. After our new neighbors settled down, we fell
sound asleep again. On Friday morning,
we woke up around 6:30am and went for a short walk down toward Mooney Falls.
These falls were even grander than the others, and the mineral deposits on the
rock made it look as if it were terracotta ice frozen instantly in motion. We were sore and didn’t have much time, so we
didn’t get to explore further down the canyon to some of the other falls, but
it was still a beautiful walk. We got
back, broke camp, and took one last look at Havasu Falls before commencing our
two-mile walk back to the village.
On
the way, we stopped at Navajo Falls to take one more refreshing dip in the
soothing crystal pools. A guy was
walking down towards us as we were leaving and he struck up a conversation with
us. We had seen him at the campground spring
a few times earlier filling up his bottles like everyone else. He was saying
how he was on his way out too, having spent three days in Havasu Falls. He introduced himself as Dominic from
Toronto. He walked with us and we
talked. Dominic had visited Chaco Canyon
in New Mexico and had lots of good feedback about its geologic and
anthropological significance. Dominic
revealed that he was studying archaeology and history, having traveled a good
deal through the Southwest and all over Texas.
He had a nice way about him, and we enjoyed talking with him.
He mentioned how
he had formed the impression from having talked with many Americans that
several of us have an apocalyptic view of the near future and a deep mistrust
of government. In contrast, he told us
that he didn’t think that Canadians felt quite the same way. Dominic was born in Poland, was half German,
and had lived in Europe before moving to Canada. We talked until the helicopter arrived and
was about ready to take us out of the canyon.
We exchanged emails, gave him our blog address, and he went on his way.
The ride out took
five whole minutes! Jack got to sit in
front with the pilot, and Venus got to sit in back with a nice native girl with
whom she was able to have a brief conversation. The young woman shared with her
how everyone in the reservation all know each other and that there were only ten
outsiders living in the village. We got back to the
car, packed our stuff back in the trunk, and started out for Las Vegas. We stopped for lunch at the Chinese buffet in
the town of Kingman. Then we got on 93N
and drove over the newly built Pat Tillman Bridge overlooking the Hoover Dam
and marveled at the beautiful yet harsh mountainous terrain in which the dam
was situated.
We arrived in
Vegas around 6pm, and drove down the strip until we reached the Luxor Hotel on
our right. We checked in and went to our
room. The room was very spacious and had an upscale feel. We had a view from
directly behind the Sphinx and Obelisk facing east, very auspicious on this
Blue Moon. J After cleaning
up in the huge walk-in shower, we walked down to the Burger Bar and sat right
at the bar, enjoying awesome burgers and great service. Jack had the Hubert Keller burger and Venus
had three burger sliders. Everything was
really delicious and satisfied our deep hunger.
After dinner, we walked through the hotel casino and played a couple
slots before driving up the strip to the Venetian Hotel. We saw the fake blue sky and the gondola
drivers singing their way as they wound through the indoor canals. Being in
Vegas was a little bit strange after having been camping in rustic towns and
small villages for two weeks. We were a bit anxious to leave the congestion of
the materialistic mecca known as the City of Lights and get on to our new home.
We got back to our
room just before midnight and crashed.
The next morning, we left the Luxor, returned our rental car and had a
very smooth flight to Honolulu Int’l Airport where we ate delicious sushi while
waiting for our connecting flight to Hilo.
The second flight was short and sweet, and we had some fun along the way.
We got a cabbie at the quaint Hilo Airport who was so sweet, friendly
and nice, a native Hawaiian named Winston.
He shared with us some interesting and useful information about the area
as we drove to our destination in Pahoa. Arriving at our rental apartment, we were greeted
by coqui frogs, lush tropical foliage and a studio apartment that has screens
but no glass on the windows because it never gets cold here. Ahhhh, thank you,
Pele, thank you!
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