carocali

A day at Hobbiton

Tue, 21 Jul 2009 23:16:21 GMT

Way behind - sorry. This is our day in Glencoe.

:D
Caroline

July 14, 2009

We got to sleep in today. It was amazing. Almost 9 am which was amazing after all the early morning rises in order to get to our destinations. It felt really good!

I started the day by going outside our front door and snapping our view. The loch is right across the street with boats in the corner. Our cottage is literally at the end of Loch Linnhe but as you look to the west, the sun sets over our mountains – yes, they’re ours. I think they’re the Three Sisters of Glencoe but I’m not 100%. There are mountains everywhere so don’t kill me if I’m wrong. All I can say is they are beautiful.

Our little cottage is stucco white with flowers dotted along the way and a lovely pink rose climbing the side of the front door. We also have a large yellow flowering bush in the corner of the fenced in area that lots of little bees like to come and collect pollen. A lone seagull floated by searching for his own breakfast as mine was waiting in the kitchen – Scottish Blend tea from Tesco, a blackberry/raspberry yoghurt and a scone with Devonshire cream. Yum! Wendy got up a little bit later and we both hung out in the front yard. Did I mention we got to sleep in?

The day had a lazy start and we continued to putz around the cottage taking our time getting ready. Finally sometime in the afternoon we decided to check out the village of Glencoe. Our host suggested a few hikes along the loch and into the mountainside so we figured today would be a great day to check them out. After we hit the church and cemetery at Ballachulish.

There is no end to the amazing churches and cemeteries in the area. And the local history these places hold is remarkable. The beauty of the day still comes across in these monuments to loved ones. The crosses and obituaries are touching and placed with care among their neighbors. Wendy and I split, grabbing different shots of the area – we tend to gravitate towards the same shots – as I wandered towards the front. A bit later, two sweet little ladies came up arm and arm towards the church entrance. I asked if they belonged to this parish (because it’s active) and they said they were visiting from Fort William. The four of us started a dialogue where they told us a bit about the area and asked us where we were from. I said Chicago and they said they knew someone from Illinois, in the Chicago area, and could I mention some of the cities around there so they could remember. I tried a few – Skokie, Glen Ellyn, Oak Park - but they were a bust. They were some of the most charming individuals we’d met yet; deeply friendly and genuine. I really can’t say enough about the people here!

We waved our goodbyes and headed towards Glencoe to see what it was all about. There was a hike to the Hidden Valley that John Winkler, our “host,” had recommended so we decided to give that a shot. We’d really hoped to get some grub, but it seemed that we got there too late, so we just wandered around this marvelous little town.

Wendy and I noted that everywhere we’ve been in Scotlandhas been completely different – up a mountain, on the sea, by train, driving around – but there was really something special about this place. I called it Hobbiton because all the modest homes were perfect little places of beauty. Each had its own charm and personality. Flowers decorated every free space in the yard, and they were bright, unusual colors. Lots of purples with yellow and orange. Blue hydrangea everywhere. I mean, really breathtaking.

And as we were figuring out what we were doing in the car park, the little ladies from the graveyard popped up next to my car window, scaring the crap out of me! “I remembered the name of the town,” she said, all smiles at remembering. “It’s called Urbana.” I smiled and told her that that was about two hours from Chicago and a lovely area with a state university. She nodded, remembering that bit of information. She was so happy to have remembered, but even more so to have found us to tell us. It was the cutest thing, ever!

We ended up driving a bit and found an entrance to a trail by the Clachaig Inn; a pub that clearly states that “no Hawkers or Campbells are welcome.” A quick bit of history. The Glencoe Massacre happened here in 1692 where the Campbells slaughtered the MacDonald clans because they didn’t pledge their loyalty to the king. If you want more details, you can check the history of the Glencoe Massacre, but basically, it seems the Campbells are still hated for the attrition of the MacDonalds. Here’s the bad part; Wendy has Campbell in her bloodline. I threatened to out her if she didn’t behave. We took a picture of her at the sign for posterity and then hightailed out of there.

The Hidden Valley walk was truly hidden to us, so we ended up going to Signal Rock where, according to Undiscovered Scotland.com “There were up to 500 MacDonalds, scattered over the lower reaches of Glen Coe. The start of the massacre was signalled by a fire lit on what is now called Signal Rock at 5am. It was dark, it was snowing, and reinforcements intended to block escape routes from the glen failed to turn up, leaving Captain Campbell to make his mark on history largely unaided.“ Obviously a depressing place, so we headed right on up there.

The landscape was really beautiful; full, mossy tress hiding us from the sun. The walk up was very nice if a bit steep but we took it slow because we aren’t exactly the lightest on our feet. Several trips, slips and missteps later, we finally made it up to signal rock where we regarded the Three Sisters of Glencoe and had them pose for pictures. We got rather silly in our picture taking and finally decided to meander back down the path into town.

However, down was not nice. At all. I’d jokingly mentioned that this was how horror movies start – two stupid girls hiking alone in the woods... In fact, it was so horrid that Wendy took a fall, scraping her knee. We tried to do first aid (which was basically looking to make sure she wasn’t gushing blood) and then we heard some wild animal baying in the distance. Well, that got us moving rather quickly. Then it started to rain. We kicked it up another notch.

We finally found our way out, dripping wet and we marched back towards the car. As we drove out, we noticed that these jars of jam that we’d spotted on our way in were still for sale with an honesty box outside. We decided to grab some for our crumpets and made our way back home.

We were wet, shivering a touch and almost home when Wendy suddenly shouted out “A rainbow!” so we had to stop and look at this incredible view. All along the highways are these amazing little purple flowers, I think they’re Heather, that we just have started calling the “picture framing flowers” because they add that last thing your shot needs. Incredible! We snapped shots until the colors faded into the sky, disappearing from view. And that was the end of our lovely day in Glencoe!

Whales and sheep and goats, oh my!

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 21:02:45 GMT

So far behind, sorry! It's been a very busy week, indeed! This was our whale watching tour and subsequent adventures.

:D

July 13, 2009

Today was the day that I was so excited for – not like the entire trip wasn’t something to be excited about – because I wanted to see whales. We’d booked a trip through Sea.fari boat lines. The only problem? We had to get up WAY too early in order to get to the Isle of Skye, two and a half hours away. The tour was at 10am, so that meant we had to leave by 7am to give ourselves enough time. Early is not good – ever. But we got out, a little later than anticipated, and started our trek north towards the Skye Bridge.

On the way, we had much mountainside to traverse and it added a little stress to our journey as there were some quite steep sides to possibly fall over for two girls who are just learning to ride the other side of the road. But we tore through the scenery, ogling pictures we knew we’d want on the way back. I only saw quick glimpses of haunting mountains draped in greens and browns; waterfalls scarcely populating high regions of the mounds. A placid loch where the reflection of the mountain winked at the reverse image tempting me to stop and grab that beauty with my camera. There was no time to waste though, so we scurried onward towards our destination.

But then we saw Eilean Donan castle, one of the larger ones we’d see on our trip, and we had to stop for a brief moment. It was magnificent and cover in a slight drizzle, adding to the mystery of this ancient ruin. We’d stopped for long enough, however, and knew we’d need to hurry on.

Jumping back in the car, we continued onwards towards the Armadale pier, knowing that our Sea.fari boat trip launched from that same site. Many, many turns and fantastic scenery later, we finally saw the sign for the ferry. Finding parking was a bit of a challenge but we were directed to an area where we would be safe. We quickly jumped out and ran towards the pier, overlooking the bagpiper in the parking lot entertaining his adoring fans.

The bright red boat held about 15 total people if everyone was onboard but today we only had 11. We donned the sun yellow water jackets that barely fit over our heads (Wendy had a waterproof jacket and refused one) and made our way slowly down the steep steps to the waiting boat. We pulled away from shore and stopped quickly to look at relaxed seals on a nearby island mound. They lazily rocked back and forth trying to make their way into the sea. We paused for a bit to watch, then moved forward.

Our guide said that if we saw patches of these lovely little seabirds called shearwaters that lit on the water, it was usually a good sign for a whale or porpoise. There are tons of these birds around, so we did much stopping and starting but had little luck of seeing that beautiful minke whale. But what we got instead were views of many of the little uninhabited isles all along the Scottish coast, including amazing views of the Cuillin Mountains. Every turn had various peaks and greenery, each angle more beautiful then the next. Then, finally, we caught our break – a porpoise tooling about amongst the birds. It hung around for a little while, but not long enough to catch a picture. Our guide said they are not as playful as the dolphins so he quickly went on his way.

We stopped at a few more of these bird havens having pretty much the same luck. We were “lucky” enough to be able to sit and watch as the birds tore into a jelly fish – unsure if it was alive or dead – and have a feast. As much as the theory of that grosses me out, it’s interesting to see how nature takes its course.

So there we were, stuck in the middle of the sea surrounded by miles of water and hungry seabirds. And it was amazing. Peaceful doesn’t even describe it; there’s nothing like it. The clouds rolled by, concealing the sun from us in a game of hide and seek. There are so few craft on these waterways, it’s like you have the whole sea to yourself. The feeling is indescribable.

Eventually, we made it back to shore – no whales to be found. I was a little disappointed, but the journey was still amazing.

Heading back, we saw a sign for a castle and figured we’d go and take a look. Somehow, we got lost and ended up on another road, finding a cute little hotel with a few shops around it too. We detoured and headed back the way we came, remembering there was an Indian restaurant we wanted to hit before we headed back to the cottage. We’re always looking for a good Indian restaurant and this one looked really promising. It was closed. Sigh.

Then the search for food began as we hit the little village of Kyleakin right by the Skye bridge. There was a castle ruin there – Castle Moil – so we snapped a few pictures and found food at King Haakon restaurant (although I have no idea who he was). At the end of our bar visit, we thanked the bar man for staying open for us. “Tha’s alright,” he replied (which basically means you’re welcome) and then a very drunk elderly man came stumbling back to thank us as well. He quizzed us on our origins stating that he liked America, giving us a Scottish blessing of sorts: “I walk with sky above me, Skye below me and it flows through my veins. I wish to you peace and prosperity in your journey ahead.” I’m sure I blew that but that was the general sentiment. It was lovely and he truly meant it.

As we continued on our way, Wendy found this little town on the edge of nowhere on our map called Elgol at the southernmost tip of Skye. We wanted to get a better look at the Cullin Mountains and this seemed the place to do it. In order to get there, however, we’d have to travel the elusive one lane highway that we both are so fond of. And guess who was behind the wheel. Talk about getting your experience on the road!

The winding road never seemed to end, creating obstacle after obstacle, obviously the most worrisome being the cars coming towards you. After some trial and error, I think we got then hang of it, on some level. One lane road has passing places and whoever gets there first basically has to pull over to the side to allow the passing. The first time I had to do it, I kind of panicked and pulled to the wrong side. Eventually, we figured it out.

In addition to the cars you have to dodge, there were various blockades in the road that don’t give a damn if you’re trying to get somewhere. For example – sheep. They have no clue, nor do they care about anything. If they want to be in the road, they’ll be in the road and screw what you want. They were hanging out by a cemetery, eating the green grass on the graves, so we had to stop. In fact, we saw them open the gate to the grave yard to get in! Like I said, they go where they want to.

They are also very noisy. We had one little bugger who hung out in the road and tried to get hit by a passing car, just baaing at it. And it was quite a baa. It was the cross between a normal sheep and a crabby old woman that had smoked her whole life yelling at you. We both have it on video for posterity.

Still others hung in the background and explored. We turned around to see two of them trying to eat our Corsa, licking the bumper and then rubbing against the wheels. I tried to shoo them away, but that just elicited non-stop giggling from Wendy. We did get them off and continued to wind our way through the hills, mountains and lochs to the world’s end atop the mountain.

Up we climbed and the more freaked out I got. A soft mist started to drizzle on the windshield adding an extra layer of discomfort. We finally did reach a peak of sorts but the final stage of the road required us to drive down a pretty steep incline with limited visibility (and the Corsa already had a pretty awful blind spot) so we decided we were going to turn around.

The famed red phone booth was perched on this mountain and Wendy stopped to make a call, but it didn’t work so we continued on. I was so thirsty that I wanted to stop and have a quick drink. I figured it would wash down my nails that I’d chewed off on the trip up. As we pulled into the parking lot of this cute little seafood restaurant, Wendy realized that she’d lost her cash. We dumped everything on the seat from her backpack, tearing through it all. It wasn’t there. She figured she had around 250-300 pounds in the envelope. I feared that my ability to lose money at the drop of a hat had rubbed off on Wendy as I’d done the same thing on my trip out West with Kathy, losing $1000.

She was panicked. So was I but I tried to remain calm. The last place she remembered having it was at King Haakon so I went inside the restaurant and asked for assistance with their number. The couple was so incredibly kind (which, by the way, has really been the standard here. No one has treated us poorly) and gave us the number, offering advice that my cell wouldn’t work until we’d hit the loch several miles below. I thanked them and returned to the car.

Wendy had calmed some and decided to continue driving. I’d told her of my pangs of fear as I remembered losing my cash. But it’s only money and somehow I was able to let it go. I’d tried to impress that upon her as well, saying that we’d stay in more and work everything out.

We were anxious to get home to check around the cottage for the lost funds and then we ran into large, brown cows who decided they needed to hog the road. There’s no messing with a cow! They came right up to the window and looked in like they’d never seen a car before. It was quite hilarious and brightened the mood inside the car immensely. Shortly afterwards, we hit the mountain goats who like to perch atop the small hills. They always look like they’re ready to come and ram you so we cautiously made our way down through Nature’s obstacles.

Finally we wound down the mountain and I was able to call the restaurant. They looked around but it was to no avail. Our last remaining hope was that somehow the envelope was taken out of her book bag and it was at home.

The ride back was quiet but relaxed as we wound our way through. We’d seen some pretty amazing scenery on the way and stopped at a battle ground for Gala Shiel marked by a brown sign with two swords crossing. There was a beautiful bridge that was probably the keeper of some horrible battle; now it just contained horrible slugs. I’ve never seen slugs, but the first one I saw looked like a cigarette lighter that someone had dumped on the grass (which got me mad) but then I came to realize it was this plump, evil beastie. Oh, they were so gross, and everywhere! Absolutely disgusting!

Climbing back into the car in a much lighter mood, we took another peek at Eilean Donan castle, wandering up the path and getting a bunch of really nice shots of the sides and loch. It is a magnificent structure!

Our final stop was to ogle some highland cows that grazed idly along the road. They were easily frightened by us (and who wouldn’t be) and raced off across the pasture.

Getting home, Wendy ran upstairs to find the envelope with all her money sitting happily on her bed! Same happy ending that I had only much quicker when I’d lost my money. We could go to sleep with no worries after another wonderful day!

Harry Potter and other stuffs...

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 23:35:55 GMT

This was our spontaneous day with lots of beautiful pictures. They're from Glenfinnan. If I havent' sent you the pictures and you want to see them, let me know.

July 12, 2009

Today was the day we were going to find Puffins; Scotland is one of the only places on earth to find them. We got up at the buttcrack of dawn in order to get to Oban, a lovely little village on the loch (‘cuz there’s none of those around here). It was our first taste of Scotland mist in the morning as it coated our layers of clothes in droplets of dew-like water.

Most of the drive was through foresty stuffs with lochs along the way on either side. We knew we’d have to test our driving again, pretending not to be tourists by driving 20 miles under the speed limit. We were running a tad late – who knew Wendy had that ailment as well – so we had to hotfoot it on the road as the tour started at 10am. The problem was that we still had to buy our tickets at the desk because we couldn’t purchase them before we’d left the states. I’d tried to call the night before to leave a message and I’d sent an email but we never heard anything back. I grabbed the phone with the intention of calling along the way.

Oh, and I think I forgot to mention that there are castle ruins everywhere. And I mean everywhere. It’s just incredible to think how many people lived like that! We hit our first one of the day on the way to Oban, Castle Stalker; the only standing piece is a tower in the middle of an island. One can only imagine how they built it in the first place on this tiny piece of land. But we didn’t have time to look now as we had to get to our destination.

Many roundabouts, a few bridges and lochside views later, we ended up in Oban. This was the first port we’d seen with the ferries – and the ships were massive! The town itself was a good size – even having its own Tesco – so it stands to reason that the port would be a hub of lots of activity. Still, seeing that ship up close and knowing that we’d be on one in a few day’s time just shoots a sense of awe through your veins.

We parked the car, illegally it turns out, and raced over to find out where the ticket office was. The tour desk held our answers as a sweet man behind the desk nodded as I mentioned my name, informing us that the tour had been cancelled for the day. Ugh! I knew we should have called first, but we were in a hurry…haste DOES make waste. And speaking of waste (wow, what an awful transition) I needed to use the loo before we hit the road to our now new adventure, but had to pay 20 pence for it! As Wendy says, welcome to Europe!

We decided to make lemonade from lemons and figured we’d go find the Glenfinnan monument, dedicated to Bonnie Price Charlie who tried to rise against the English in 1745. They lost – badly – but it was a good show, apparently. Enough so that they wanted a monument to remember the fight and loss of life. In addition to this monument based along the stunning scenery, if you do a 180, you see the famous viaduct used in the Harry Potter movies (which we’ll be taking on Wednesday). Also in this area is this amazing church that Wendy randomly found on a website. We decided that we needed to find it and take our own pictures. So, that was the new plan of the day.

Tesco has this great lunch meal deal for 2 GBP that includes a sandwich, drink and chips so we figured we’d head over there first, grab our own packed lunch and hit the road to Glenfinnan. Well, that was the plan. Apparently getting to the Tesco demands some ancient Scottish ritual where you have to find the magic passage in order to enter the parking lot. We drove up and down, left and right and still couldn’t find it. We saw it from a distance, but it flipped its elusive middle finger at us as we tried to get to it. Along the way, Wendy found this little tiny road up into the houses of Oban. Unfortunately, there is no room to get your car by, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing. And we didn’t. We also trucked along next to water and no guardrail which did not make for a happy time. Eventually we got to the top and found our way back down, shaking like a leaf at the bottom.

There was a Co-op next to the Tesco, so we ended up going there, grabbing a few groceries (but putting back the bagel that an old woman coughed on) and walking through the streets to get to the other store. Apparently that ancient Scottish ritual only applies to driving as we were able to walk there. Finally, we made our way out of the city and back onto the road. Where we promptly got lost – and didn’t realize it.

Somewhere along the way, we took a wrong turn at the round about and ended up in more beautiful Scottish country/mountainside. About twenty miles in or so, we realized that this area didn’t look familiar, as we were next to another loch. We found a place to turn around, and headed back to the cottage. This time we stopped at Castle Stalker and took pictures of the intangible little tower on the edge of the water. The day was dark and dreary – at least for the moment – as we snapped away from our various angles. We stopped briefly in the gift shop to use the washroom (and didn’t have to pay this time) and head on our way.

We stopped briefly at the cottage and decided to eat our meals at our dining room table, planning out our trip to Fort William and ultimately, Glenfinnan. It was my turn to drive, so I got to hit the roundabouts in the city. Wendy is MUCH better at them then I am so I managed to get us lost, which is pretty easy for me to do. Eventually, we got out of town and headed to the monument and another stage of this journey.

It took a while to get there, but we learned the rules of the road pretty quickly, allowing people to pass us either by pulling over in the passing lanes or just plain getting passed along the highway. Eventually, we got the feel for driving faster. In fact, someone even pulled over for me! That was pretty cool!

The monument and museum are on the side of the road at the bottom of a hill pretty much in a blind spot. And the speed limit is 60. It’s nerve-wracking trying to get in and out, but we got there. As we looked to the left of the parking lot, our hopes were realized as we saw the famous viaduct for the steam train from Ft. William to Mallaig – the trip in the Harry Potter movies. I had to giggle a little at the sight and the fact that we’d found it. It was magnificent!

We paid our 3GBP to climb to the top of the monument; this tiny little round tower. Oh, and I mean tiny. We barely were able to fit up the narrow staircase – this was even worse than the one at Melrose Abbey. There was a caretaker that checked our tickets who looked strangely like Finch with a black netting across his face, draped in a tannish overcoat to stave the rain off. Once we climbed the 57 stairs (yes, I counted) you have to duck through, squat and haul yourself up. We couldn’t fit with the backpacks, so we handed them off to one another.

But the view was stunning.

While we were only a little ways up, it makes all the difference. You’re on Loch Shiel, overlooking these amazing mountains that seem to courtesy to the loch itself. They make a valley for the still waters to roam about freely. The clouds hovered innocently, pretending they held no water to pour on us. Evil bastards! As we looked around, they started a gentle spit on us, reminding us that they were there, innocent or not! In the distance, we got our first real glimpse of the viaduct, and it’s magnificent! Do you feel a trend here? We even got lucky and a Scotrail train, the line we took from Perth, went cruising by. It wasn’t the steam train, but it was still cool as hell!

After squeezing back down through the hole at the top, we walked back to the parking lot and found a trail that went up a winding hill to overlook the monument and give us a better view of the viaduct. Along the way, we finally discovered what midges were; well Wendy did. And they loved her. A lot! A nice Scottish family offered us Skin So Soft (because we’d forgotten ours at home) and we sprayed ourselves with it. I actually watched the midges hit my skin and die – it was awesome! We stayed up top and got even more stunning views of the loch and the viaduct – probably one of the most beautiful spots we’ve seen, and we’ve seen a lot.

Jumping back into the car, we headed towards the little church Wendy had discovered. It was as lovely as we’d hoped, sitting peacefully on the loch just a few steps from the monument. They have services on Sundays at 1pm. The light gray stone is highlighted by the dark, added a deep tone and mystery to the church. The stained glass was various shades of blues and greens but you can only see it if you run up close to it, and stared into the house of the lord. The round glass always reminded me Notre Dame even though there’s no comparison, but this house of the holy still gets the message across, just on a smaller scale. Three prominent crosses are perched atop the roof, perhaps to symbolize the holy trinity.

All around the area, the grass is spongy and green, padding steps carefully as you circle the structure. In the back, there is a lone bench angled toward the loch to overlook the beauty that God created. At least, that’s what it seems like the church goers were aiming for. I would have loved to sit there all day, just breathing in the exquisiteness of the scene.

Getting our fill of the area and the midges, we hopped back into the car to go home and get Wendy’s inhaler. She’d gotten a bad whiff of some detergent in Oban and had been fighting it all day. We stopped briefly at the cottage, grabbed that, popped some chicken in the oven and headed back out in search of more castle pictures.

It turns out the grounds actually close at some of the castles so we didn’t have much luck getting to Castle Dunstaffnage. We turned back around and got sunny pictures of Castle Stalker and found some friends along the way. Little snails speckled the grounds and remnants of their relatives were crushed along the way. They’re so easy to miss so we were careful on our way back. Poor things!

At home, we made a lovely salad of chicken and rice and we enjoyed the comforts of our simple home. What a lovely day!

To the cottage we go

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 12:04:31 GMT

I know, I'm really behind... this is our first driving experience! Don't laugh too hard, okay?

:D
Caroline

July 11, 2009

Today was the day we were dreading – renting the car. In order to do that, however, we needed to get to Perth via train. We said our goodbyes to Martin, thanking him for his assistance and jumped into the waiting cab. We got there in plenty of time, boarding the train and making our way through another portion of the beautiful Scottish countryside. Looking out the window, I watched the quilted landscapes of green and yellow fly by, sewn together with bunches of trees, shading the lazy sheep. It just never ends; the beauty of this country.

We arrived at Perth wondering at how to get the hell out of the stations without killing ourselves on the luggage. Two very sweet Scottish boys offered their assistance. They were going to the “Tea in the Park” music festival being held just outside of Perth. Apparently, there are something like 200,000 people attending (we did see a snippet on the news and it seems that’s an accurate count). Their hospitality was very becoming and we thanked them as we found our way to the door.

The moment of truth arrived – we walked into Enterprise, only to find that they did not have a GPS available for rent. Not a happy way to start this adventure…

Panic immediately set in as the papers were signed and we climbed into the vehicle. We tried to arrange all our items into the car so we didn’t look too touristy. No chance. Finally after we couldn’t avoid it any longer, we set off towards Tesco, the local grocery store, for items for the cottage. And while there at the advice of the Enterprise employee (but he’d deny it if he were caught), we picked up a GPS. He said they have a 30 day policy if you don’t like something you purchased there, you can return it. Not that he was saying anything.

So, with Wendy’s perfect guidance, she told me to stay to the left, passenger side to the curb. Follow the round-about to the left then go straight. Keep going forward. Remember to stay to the left. Turn right into Tesco, driving past the island and following the cars going through the parking lot. Then I had to park, which turned out to be extremely stressful. Back and forth, left and right. Finally, I just backed up and went across the way.

I’m a HUGE fan of grocery stores, so wandering in a foreign country is amazing to me. And more than that, I wasn’t driving, which was a huge bonus. We gathered all sorts of fun things to eat and drink at our cabin. I stalled as long as I could but it was inevitable… we had to drive again. Feeling a little more relaxed, I sat back in the driver’s seat and ate lunch with Wendy, contemplating what do to and how to work the damn GPS we’d just purchased. We didn’t have an address for the Tesco in Perth, so we just wrote Perth as our starting point, wanting to end up at Glencoe where our cabin was. That was our first mistake, and then it just went downhill from there.

Making our way out of the parking lot, Wendy and I seemed a bit distracted and I headed left into oncoming traffic sitting at the light. Luckily, I noticed that they were sitting there (I’d have to be daft NOT to see them) and not moving – which was fantastic – and I quickly veered back into the left lane freaking out as I hit yet another round-about. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the GPS took me into the center of Perth because we didn’t give it appropriate directions. We were like the Griswalds, heading around in circles as we cruised through the lovely town. However, there were a TON of round-abouts and I could feel myself freaking out. Wendy was an excellent navigator and talked me through each and every turn. She held it together better than I did and finally we were able to just make a decision to get the hell out of downtown and onto A85 to head towards Glencoe.

Part of the point of this driving thing was to go to Crieff, where Ewan grew up. We’d wanted to go see ‘The Knock’ at the suggestion of our plane-mate from London to Edinburgh which apparently boasts the most beautiful views of the city. They also have distillery that we’d like to visit. The roads were narrow and scary, especially having to drive the wrong way. Cars come at you like midges (more on them tomorrow) as you try to avoid them like the plague but it just can’t be done. So, the inevitable happened – I hit a car. At least I think I did. I know I hit something with my mirror. We tried to get back to the spot but ended up getting lost. In my defense (and Wendy’s as well) the damn streets are really narrow and when you have cars on every side of you, parking however the hell they want, it’s pretty hard NOT to hit something

So, that was the end of my driving experience; Wendy took over and we continued on. It was her first time behind the wheel and she was as scared as I was. You have to navigate how far you are from the middle, how far you are from the dipping curve. Driving here is NOT relaxing in the slightest. There is so much incredible scenery at every glance, and you’re holding on for dear life with the fear of getting hit, hitting something or dropping off the road in one shape or another.

We drove a bit more and got to the town of Comrie where Wendy’s depth perception got the best of her. She hit a mirror as well, but this time our left hand mirror cracked, pushing itself closer to the window like an injured bird. The problem was that Wendy panicked and couldn’t stop. We finally found a place to pull over and turn around, looking for the wayward car that we wounded only to see the driver straighten his mirror – like this had happened a hundred times before – and jump in his car off to his next destination. Ah, Scotland.

The driving continued, each of us shaken by what had happened with the mirror but many wonderful things were found, like Loch Earn and Loch Iubhair. Just a few of the amazing lochs Scotland has to offer. The first loch held two elderly gentlemen in a green tent, perched along the lochshore. They were fishing, and happily sitting and watching the crazy, screaming tubers whipping around on the loch, probably scaring all the fish away. I asked what they were fishing for and he said some fish I wasn’t familiar with and trout, pronounced “troot.” I wished him luck and headed back up the hill to be greeted by a Labrador puppy named Oscar who gave me a big sloppy kiss as a welcome to Scotland! And the weather was absolutely incredible. It was our reward for the horrors of driving in Scotland.

I need to back up a bit. When we started talking about doing this Scotland thing, there were a few things that we knew we wanted to do for sure: see some standing stones (there are several options), find Ewan McGregor, get some awesome pictures and pet a highland cow – the absolute cutest animal in the world. So, along our route, we finally saw our first cows and we both broke into giggles of joy. And they were just as cute as we’d imagined. Emo bangs hanging in front of their eyes like a throw back from the 60’s, cute ears flicking away at the midges and flies that eat at them all day. And both the male and female have horns, so it’s hard to know which is which. But this one Heinlin Coo as they pronounce it here seemed to be the leader, parked up top a lovely rolling hill. In the background, minus the electric pole, were the mountains all blue and misty. It’s exactly how I pictured we’d see them. They were so content, that is until, of course, two American tourists came and started ooing and awing at them. They must have thought we were crazy. They were close, but still no petting. Hopefully we’ll get to do that soon!

We stopped various places along the way but eventually did make it to our lovely cottage. It took us a while to find as there’s very little in your face direction. We went up and down the road, turned around several times (in opposite traffic that we weren’t comfortable in) and finally ended up home. Right on the loch, across the street from buoyed boats and rumbling mountains. Hunger got the best of us, so we quickly unloaded and jumped back in the car in search of food. Unfortunately, being Saturday night, everything was booked. We eventually found this little pub in Ballachulish where we ate amazing fish and chips then walked over to the “Co-op” where we stocked up on some groceries to get us through.

Back home, we opened the door to watch the sunset across the lake at 10:45pm! The bright purples and pinks painted the skyline like I’ve never seen. My camera didn’t do it justice (and was being snarky by not focusing) as the clouds rolled across the sky. The wind picked up a touch and the buoys across the way started to make a bell-like sound as they clunked against the moorings. So peaceful. We stood and took in with all our senses the scenery around us.

Behind us, in the mountains, the wind whistled through the forest and a distant cry of sheep echoed through, riding the breeze to our cottage. We knew we’d found something special.

Edinburgh by grouchy bus driver

Sun, 12 Jul 2009 22:19:24 GMT

Sorry, I'm totally behind... this was when we were still in Edinburgh. I'm working on yesterday and will post some pictures tonight, hopefully!

:D
Caroline

July 10, 2009

This morning we had a bit of a crazy start. We’d planned the bus tour to Melrose Abbey and Rosslyn Chapel. We were to be picked up at 8:30 in front of the B&B. Everything was moving along smoothly; I was even up and ready early. The tele was on spouting the depressing news and I noticed that it said 8:15. I looked at our little wind up clock and had a cow because it said 7:45! We were screwed. Wendy and I raced around the room trying to gather everything we’d need for the day, praying we wouldn’t forget anything. As we were tearing out the door, flying past our breakfast, Martin stopped us and said that the driver was running about 25 minutes late. Phew! There still wasn’t time for breakfast so we grabbed a quick cup of tea and a piece of toast. Eventually, the huge grayline bus arrived and we were greeted by Graham Gordon, one of the funniest men I’ve met in my life.

We loaded on the bus, immediately met with the rolling “R’s” of the Scottish brogue. Graham pretended to be the angry Scottman, growling at the tourists, even bragging of hitting 118 last year alone with his bus. He turned out to be the best tour guide Wendy or I have ever had.

There were several stops along the way, picking up tourists from China, Australia, England, another American group and Italians. And boy was he unhappy about the Italians. I thought at first that he was exaggerating about their total lack of respect and rudeness but when the entire bus was basically empty and a woman in a group of Italian tourists insisted on sitting with me and my huge backpack, I was taken aback. Sure, we were near the front of the bus and maybe she needed to see out the main window, but it was the way it was done. The whole thing was so bizarre and uncomfortable. The rest of the group – about 12 or so- talked through Graham’s touring and also chatted on phones. I was utterly ashamed to call myself Italian at the pure rudeness of them.

Anyway, Graham was a font of historical information. One of the coolest facts he mentioned to us was the statue of Sir Walter Scott in the middle of Edinburgh on Princes Street. The white marble structure came from Genoa, Italy to sit beneath the towering metal ‘umbrella’ of the square. As they were removing it from the barge, it fell into the harbor in Genoa. There it sat for 3 years before they were able to pull it from the river, filled with algae and muck. I don’t think you hear about that in the history books.

We made our way out of the city with our tour group in tow, Graham filling our heads with more and more history. We sailed past Flodden Wall – the last part of old Edinburgh still standing – that’s over 500 years old! The tour was to take us to the Scottish Borders, further south than we had originally planned. He’d insisted that the southern part of Scotland was more beautiful than even the highlands. While we were ready to disagree, and still may after we see it, the south was magnificent. Graham was insistent on taking us on a side road to show us the rolling hills of hidden Scotland that’s not on his official tour route. The protected area was known as Tweed Valley Forest Park; a mostly deserted area that only the locals go through. Along the way, the bright green was speckled with roaming sheep, happily grazing away without a care in the world. We had a soundtrack by Capercaillie, the group that performed much of the music from Braveheart. It was beautiful and truly fitting as we wove our way around the tight roads. Graham informed us that at night he likes to toil over maps and found this route by accident. It was absolutely stunning.

All the little towns along the way held beautiful little cottages bursting with flowers and color. At one point, Graham was so overcome by the beauty of the area and the care of the potted flowers that he proclaimed, “If I was a bird, I’d nest in there!” which immediately made us burst out laughing. We tried to snap some photos along the way but the bus was moving too quickly. Thus was the nature of our trip.

The winding roads and tight traffic held our attention as we held our breath watching him weave through. Panic overtook us as we realized that we might be hitting buses head on through our own winding tours. And Graham was not shy about his views on tourists driving – especially female tourists. We took note and will make sure to heed his words.

The bus stopped briefly at Scott’s View – Sir Walter Scott’s favorite spot to sit and contemplate life. When he died, the horses in his funeral brigade stopped at the spot, thinking they were on their regular course. This stirred the emotions of all those in the funeral procession, saying the horses even paid their respect to their former master. Graham said, “They were two stupid horses that wanted a rest.” You see why we were so smitten with him.

Our first “official” stop on the tour was Melrose Abbey, an abandoned monastery founded in 1136 and destroyed in 1385 by Richard II. Upon approach, it’s just a stunning view. The square stones were pink and yellow hues stacked in arches of beauty surrounded by a strong wrought iron fence. Along the outside, grave stones dotted the flat landscape in deep grays. One of the highlights in the burial ground is the heart of Robert the Bruce, the real “Brave Heart.” I have not seen the movie, but apparently they misconstrued the actual history, making William Wallace the hero. Well, Graham, being the history aficionado he was, stated that Robert the Bruce was his hero, spurring on his love of history. He was angered by his portrayal in Brave Heart, touting the amazing feats of this man. I’ll find a link and let you read it if you’re interested.

The Abbey held a tiny, narrow staircase that we wandered up to get a panoramic view of the area. Honestly, it was really creepy trying to get up this dank, dreary stone, but the view of the top held much beauty. The outskirts of the territory were decorated with bright flowers of orange and yellow, trying to lighten up the sadness of this once-beautiful Abbey.

The tour was leaving soon (and we were the only ones that paid the admission to enter) so we quickly raced through grabbing a few more pictures to take home with us. I particularly loved the cemetery markers of Celtic design; crosses and circles. The visit was truly too short and I need to learn more of the history of the place, but it’s always amazing to me that something can still be in such amazing shape – especially after being attacked by Kings – after hundreds of years. Remember, the US didn’t even truly exist until the lat 1700’s. This Abbey was built 600 years prior!

Back on the bus we found a gleeful Graham after we told him we’d seen his hero’s heart. We wove our way through, noting that our stomachs were beginning to growl. Graham told us that we’d be stopping at Dobbie’s Garden Center, where of JK Rowling named the house elf from the second Harry Potter book. She’s spent some time there and liked the name enough. The food court was interesting and had the most important thing – food!

Graham took a quick sneak off the path again to see a hidden sculpture of William Wallace, at Graham’s insistance. The view in the surrounding area was gorgeous and filled with nature; but when nature attacks, it’s not fun!

I walked into some weeds and had rather thin pants on. Something felt like it had stung me, burning patches where the needles hit my skin. I looked down to see some evil plant with thorns on it. I immediately grabbed Graham and asked if I’d been poisoned and needed to go to hospital. He burst out laughing, telling me I’d walked into a Nettle bush. He leaned down under the pretense of assisting me, instead finding another thorny vine to throw at me, along with burrs. I continued to whine about the pain in my leg; it burned with every step and Wendy mocked me the whole way. A very lovely couple told me to use duck leaf to try and quell the discomfort. I’m not sure that it worked, but they were beyond cute and sweet to say anything else to him about the burning.

Our last stop on the tour was Rosslyn Chapel, the church featured in Dan Brown’s DaVinci code (so I’m told). What a beautiful little place of worship; unfortunately, it’s made of sandstone and is literally falling apart. Currently, it’s covered with a metal roof that engulfs the whole building. The idea is that after 8 years (according to Graham at least) the seepage from the water into the stone will dry out. They’ve coated it now in a cement lacquer that will preserve the church. Pictures are not allowed inside.

The inside of the chapel is now a stark gray from the coating, filling in the amazing, intricate carvings of the labor of love. The St. Clair family, wealthy folk in the region, began building their own chapel in 1446. They were Catholic and as the reformists came barreling through the area, portions of the chapel were destroyed. The interior is missing 220 statutes and it is believed that the family took them and hid them from destruction. What’s interesting is that in the carving you can clearly see corn and aloe vera plants chipped into the walls. If Columbus didn’t discover American until 1492, how were these indigenous plants of North America immortalized in the church, and why?

The entire church is dedicated to nature; flowers and leaves add their own kind of worship to the house of the Lord. Only later were religious artifacts added back into the church after the invasion. The thick columns of the interior were lined as the columns in front of the Parthenon, save for one. It’s called the Apprentice’s Pillar. The story states that the “master artist” needed inspiration to finish the final column in the church so he ran away to Italy, I believe, to be filled with the spirit. In the meantime, the artist’s apprentice received the word of God and carved the statue without his master. When the master returned two years later, he was furious that he had not thought of something so beautiful. And it is quite marvelous- a weaving in and out, candy cane column with elaborate designs of nature. It fits so well with the deep love for the rest of the building.

We were encouraged to climb the arched roof to get a closer look at the exterior of the building, so we did that. I was able to gather a few pictures of the faded detail of the once magnificent outer surface of the chapel. From this view, we were able to see the ruins of the castle nearby that we ended up getting to see up close! There was an artist there (who happened to be on our tour) who was doing quick water color paintings of the things he’d seen along the way. The story was that he’d forgotten his camera so he had to have a way to remember the areas he’s visited. I took video of him and also his email address hoping that when he made prints of his artwork, I could have a copy. Simply amazing how someone can produce such beautiful work so quickly.

Our tour was coming to an end which meant that our time with Graham was almost done. We let him know how very much we’d enjoyed his company and knowledge. He wished us well and dropped us downtown again where we ate a pasty for dinner and headed home for the evening.

Edinburgh by bus and foot

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 01:03:20 GMT

Thanks to those who've left comments. There are a lot of anonymous reviewers - and that's okay - but if you think of it, sign your post so I know who you are! :D

I'm exhausted and heading to bed. It's 2am here and we have to be up early. Here's the latest; not my best but I can barely think at the moment.

Cheers!

Day two – July 9^th

After my first Scottish breakfast which consisted of Sunnyside up eggs (the ones that look like little suns) a piece of bacon that looked more like a slice of ham, hot tomato (my favorite!), mushrooms and baked beans (really? That one threw me) Wendy and I headed out. We decided today we would be doing the bus tours around the city. We finally got out and about around 10:30 or so, jumping the local #23 bus into the City Centre to find the line of tour buses hungrily waiting to gobble up the tourists. There were four lines total and with the amazing Grand ticket, we were able to hop on and off any of these four buses. It’s too bad there were no purple ones because they truly looked like the Night Bus from Harry Potter.

The weather was all over the place today but it cooperated for the most part. There was worry that we’d get to Edinburgh Castle (our first stop) and it would be cloudy or worse – rainy. The bus route on the way to the Castle showed us other places we wanted to head back to, including St. John’s Cathedral and the adjoining St. Cuthbert Cemetery. We made a mental note to head back that way.

We jumped off the big red bus and strolled, well maybe stumbled would be a better description, up to the castle walls. Luckily, we got away with some nice moments from the Scottish skies and were able to take some nice pictures from afar. It was 13 GBP to get in and we didn’t want to see it that badly. We walked the surrounding area, filled with store touting the best Scottish crap around, and saw St. Giles Cathedral – a beautiful church steps away from the entrance of the Castle. Inside, the silver-piped organ with red trim dominated the foyer. I think there was someone playing it because it sounded like a mistake was made. That made it even cooler. We couldn’t take pictures inside the chapel, but outside we snapped away.

Back to the bus. We paid 15 GBP so, damn it, we were going to get our money’s worth. The best tour was with the actual person prattling on about the Scottish monuments as they cruised by. The minute you were able to snap the picture, it was out of site. Needless to say, my selection from the bus was very low. The most notable missed photo for me was the little dog statue on Chambers Street. His name was Greyfriers Bobby. This little dog lost his master when he was 2 and ended up following the funeral to the cemetery and stayed on his grave for 14 years. That’s the abbreviated version of the tale but it’s pretty cool –enough to make a monument to the pup and name a pub after him. Unfortunately, I have no picture, so you’ll have to take my word on it.

We also learned of the murdering duo that were paid between 10-15 GBP (depending on who was giving the tour) to bring in corpses to the local doctor. This physician had 500 students that needed cadavers in order to learn human anatomy, so these entrepreneurs went around gathering dead bodies to sell. Then, one night, they accidentally killed someone they’d been arguing with and realized that that was a whole new business venture. Eventually, one sold the other out and he was convicted of 17 murders. I’ll try and find their names but it was pretty brutal.

For me, one of the highlights today was making our way through the St. Cuthbert cemetery on our second pass. I don’t know what it is about the grave markers but I find them fascinating. The whole area was straight out of a movie with the dirty stones and faded carved lettering. The grass was a squishing sponge-like material that looked more like Astroturf. Throughout, various flowers were scattered; shades of purple and yellow. Even a bright orange buttercup. Marking the entrance was a huge 20-foot Celtic cross filled with green moss from age. It was a magnificent guard, standing in front of the hundred fifty+ year old stones. If you looked hard enough, you could see the Castle in the background. In fact, the cemetery was the best place to see the Castle and we ended up taking several shots of it through the stones. It rained, it got cloudy, the sun beat down on us all in the span of 25 minutes. I thought Chicago weather had a hard time making its mind up!

The tour suggested a visit to the free museums in the city – the National Gallery and the Scottish Museum of History. I’m always up for the art museum, and I love to find the Monet works, so we finally found our way to the Gallery. Of course, this required walking to find it. Lots of walking. And stairs. We did find it and they had three of Claude’s pieces that I’ve never seen before – one of the haystacks, and two harbor painting with boars. Beautiful. The museum itself is rather small but still brought the tourists in.

We then got directions to the Scottish museum which included WAY too many stairs to get to. We wandered the first floor, looking at the ancient carved stones that they’ve found all over the Isles. I can’t wait to see them up close in their natural environment. Another quick trip through the museum –including a replica of Mary, Queen of Scots tomb and a retired guillotine called ‘the Maiden’– and we were on our way.

Hunger pangs started to gnaw at us so we decided to look for food. Unfortunately, we didn’t know what to eat or where to get it. Eventually, we ended up back at Mark and Spense (where we changed our money earlier in the day), grabbed a sandwich and drink and jumped back onto the bus to get every pence out of that ride. We ate and enjoyed the tour, minus the freezing part. Oh, did I mention the weather changed, again? Sitting on the top part of the bus when it’s so windy/chilly isn’t the best of ideas but it’s the best way to see the city and learn the history through the architecture and locations.

As the bus toured, our guide pointed out some of the Harry Potter stuff –including the Elephant Castle (I may have the name wrong) where JK is said to have penned the famous novels. She also attended university there and the idea of Hogwarts is supposedly based on George Heriot School, close to where she went to college. They are all very proud of JK here and it shows.

The tour ended around 8pm and we were cold and wanted Indian food. We finally found a little place down the road where we had samosas and chicken tikka masalla as mini-appetizers. Just enough to tide us over. We then knew it was time to get home.

But we didn’t know where we were.

We wandered up and down the streets, looking for our #23. I saw a sign at a bus stop that said it was no longer running for the evening. We were tired and wanted to get back, but shelling out money for a cab seemed the wrong thing to do. So we walked. Forever. And ever. Blisters formed on our feet and we looked like little old ladies hobbling around. Everywhere was uphill, but even in the few spots that were downhill, it hurt. We stopped a bartender and another local but finally ended up looking at the map again to figure out where we were. Eventually, we figured it out and as we were about ½ mile from ‘home,’ we saw the #23 bus head right towards our B&B! We deflated just a little bit after realizing that we could have spared ourselves the additional pain but the 9 miles we walked today will do us good in the long run.

Now, we’re getting our final preparations for tomorrow’s trip to Rosslyn Chapel and Melrose Abbey. The bus will come and pick us up at 8:30 and we’ll be gone most of the day with that tour. It was something Wendy and I had looked at, so that fact that we can actually do this is very cool!

More later! I need some sleep before tomorrow!

Caroline

We're here

Wed, 08 Jul 2009 22:38:46 GMT

I don't remember how to do this link thing, so here's the whole post - sorry!

July 8, 2009

The sun has just set from the window of our B&B in Edinburgh. It was still 10pm and light streamed through the clouds – amazing!

The flight here was long but overall pretty good. Wendy got a migraine, I got a little motion sickness but we traded off being sick so it all worked out. Neither of us got much sleep and we’re both exhausted. But were here and we’ve already ventured about.

Our connection was a little touch and go as we got into the terminal late by 25 minutes. Then, we had to take a tram to another terminal, go through security again and race to the plane. We had about 15 minutes to spare, I believe. On the plane, we were sat next to a young girl who’d just toured the states for the last month. Turns out, she’s from Crieff! For those that don’t know, Wendy and I met because of Ewan McGregor – who’s from Crieff. A brief stop in the town is on the agenda, and now we have a few points of interest to check out. It was ironic that it turned out that way but lovely.

We loaded our baggage on the bus from the airport and made it to Waverly station in downtown Edinburgh. From there, we grabbed a taxi and watched as our brave driver weaved his way around the traffic, trying to figure out how the hell to work a round-about. I’m still not sure how we’re going to actually drive here since neither Wendy nor I are very confident in our ‘wrong side of the road’ driving abilities. I guess we’ll have to wait and see. That’ll be a journal entry of it’s own!

We rang the bell of our B&B and the very charming Martin answered with a big smile. His not-too-thick Scottish accent immediately put us at ease (and maybe made us a little weak in the knees…oh! I’m rhyming and I’m tired! Woohoo!). He tried to explain how to get from here to there within walking distance (because Wendy and I were done with sitting) and sent us on our way.

The cars sped by and we had to constantly figure out which way was up so we wouldn’t get run over. There are cobblestone streets and tripping hazards for klutzs like us all over, so we were careful. No restaurants caught our eye, so we kept walking. We did hit a lovely little waterway trail called the Leith Walkway so we stopped and explored for a bit, taking a snapshot here and there. There are beautiful old churches on every corner, but none were open for inspection; instead we snapped pictures of their doors and steeples. The temperature was pleasant with just the right amount of dark clouds in the sky to add that ominous feel. It’s amazing.

After we couldn’t take it anymore, we finally ended up at Mather’s Bar where we were able to eat two meals for 8.50GBP, which is pretty cheap. Wendy had a John Smith beer and I was able to have an awful diet Pepsi. Old men gathered, as this was their watering hole, watching the highlights of the rugby matches on TV. It’s like Cheers where they all gather and know each other. I imagine we’ll find that a lot along the way!

The trip back seemed to take a bit longer since we wandered aimlessly the first time. We did get back, showered and we’re hitting the sack. Tomorrow there are a few bus tours we want to check out along with Edinburgh Castle.

That’s it from jolly old Edinburgh for now. I’m hitting the sack!

Caroline

P.S. No Blarney stone for us! We're hoping to kiss the standing stones on the Isle of Lewis though! :D

Gearing up for Scotland!

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 23:52:28 GMT

Well, I have to try and figure this out all over again. I'm hoping to post daily for my trip to Scotland on Tuesday. I"ll do my best to include the pictures as well, but no promises. I'll be lucky to figure out that link thing. I'll have to ask Lemmypie how to do that.

To those in the states, Happy 4th! To those in the UK - um, sorry!

:D
Caroline

End of a journey...

Thu, 20 Mar 2008 04:02:12 GMT

Well, a good five months later, I've finished the last reflective piece of this epic journey. I'm so pleased to finally be done, and for those that were following along diligently as we were actually traveling, I'm sorry I've let you down - but at least you now know how it ends!

My grateful thanks, again, to Kathy. Without her research and avid reading, we'd never have know about Route 89.

With that, here's the end... or just the beginning?

Thanks!
Caroline (and Kathy)

p.s. Thanks to Lizz (Lemmypie) for teaching me how to do the links to the actual journal entries. Now it's not so overwhelming on the screen when you open it. :D

DAY FIFTEEN

October 14, 2007

We begrudgingly woke up and started to pack the remainder of our items scattered throughout the hotel room. It seemed surreal that this magical journey was really coming to an end. Looking around the room and out into the parking lot where the temperature held a pleasant breeze, it seemed unfair. Not a week ago, we were ‘stranded’ in Yellowstone, surrounded by snow and chilly air, at the Old Faithful Inn. Now, we were throwing our bags into the back of our rental car and heading to the Phoenix airport, going back to our everyday lives.

Memories of our two weeks flirted with my mood, tempting me to grab Kathy and jump into the vehicle and head back North to do it all again. This trip was filled with wonder and discovery. Mother Nature showed her children off well as we befriended them along the way. We were awestruck and challenged. We sung with Julie Andrews atop Angel’s Landing and watched the smoky haze in the cavity of the Grand Canyon. Weather teased us at every stop, but that only pushed us further to make right the circumstances and find our rainbow for the day. Water was abounding as it cut through stoic rock as waterfalls pooling into hidden lakes and rivers skirted along the lonely two-lane highways. Colors radiated, even with lack of sunlight, at every turn. Steam bubbled from the earth and paint pots of tint lived happily in the earthen clay. Snow added new clothing to the naked foliage, dressing it in pure warmth. Packs of bison grazed with no care and bears lumbered along busied highways. Mountains roared to life and taunted the smallness of our beings. Trees shed and drizzled leaves in their wake while others clung to their branches in their last efforts of the season. Red rock blazed into the sky in various forms and fashions; carved with the character of the climate.

Oh yes, this was a trip to remember.

But in all of this, a lesson was to be learned; nature is a powerful thing. While the commencement of our journey was stifled by rain and clouds, some of the most beautiful things we saw were hidden – masked by the clouds and rain.

I still think back to our first real day as we trudged through Glacier National. Our plan was to take the trip through the whole park, but Going-to-the-Sun road was closed. This was a huge disappointment, but we wanted to see the beauty of the road we’d heard so much about and decided to take it as far as it would go, stopping at the rest area before the turn-around point. We got out, rain sprinkling us, and decided to take a small hike into the preserve, thinking we’d only be a moment.

The outskirts of the area were tantalizing and the pull to adventure garnished our once-somber mood. If we decided not to get out and wander – to truly see what was hidden in the treasure trove – we would have missed one of the most amazing sites of the trip.

While I’m still saddened we have no personal pictures of Avalanche Lake, I’ll never forget the area. The deep azure of the lake, the waterfalls hurrying down the glaciers, the leaves blowing gently in the wind and sheltering us from the cool rain. Had the road been open, we never would have stopped to look at this. Never would have experienced one of God’s perfect spots on the Earth. Never would have breathed in the cleanest air my lungs had ever known. Everything happens for a reason and while we didn’t quite plan on snow and road detours and rain, somehow it all worked out alright.

On our way back out of the park to the cabin, the sun decided to peak out and say hello, sending a jolt of color across the sky. Our first rainbow; double rainbow actually. It was stunning and amazing and beautiful. And if we’d made it through the park, we would not have been graced by its presence.

Road blocks became opportunities to see different things. We never sat back and moped when our current plans were broken; we picked up and forged ahead, finding new quests. Each day had its own rainbow – whether literally or figuratively – and it would be our task to unearth it.

And we certainly took advantage of every moment, filling our senses with the goodness of our road trip.

So, it seemed wrong that after all the lessons learned we were to be thrust back into reality where people are overworked and chaos reigned supreme. But maybe that was the point? Now, with our open eyes, we could find a new way of looking at things. We could stop and take that breath that we weren’t taking before and filling our stressful days with a moment of relaxation. A quick smile at remembrance of the beauty of the West.

The ride to the airport was mostly silent as we were both lost in our thoughts of the voyage. Checking in and paying up, we headed in to wait for our plane to take us home. We loaded up an hour later, after sharing nachos, and made our way back to the real world, knowing that what we’d experienced was a gift beyond explanation.

As we arrived, Frank met us with open arms that held two bouquets of flowers. I was truly touched that my brother would think to include me in his welcoming ways. It was apparent how much he’d missed Kathy and that made my heart smile.

Back home, we shared a few of our favorite photos and memories with Frank, hoping that he’d enjoy them as much as we did. He smiled and nodded, but all in all, he was just happy to have his wife back in his arms. That was his rainbow.

So the journey is over and I hope that everyone who read along the way was inspired to make your own trip down route 89, or anywhere for that matter! There is so much we didn’t see that I believe it warrants another trip – which I will gladly take again with my audacious partner in crime. I could never imagine doing what I did without Kathy at my side. It’s a silent partnership of trust and understanding that is so rare these days. She pushes me to do things I would never dream of, and I point out things she’d never look twice at. What more do you need, really?

In Search of.... Post Office?

Fri, 07 Mar 2008 05:27:55 GMT

Slowly, but surely, I'll get the rest of this journal up. I have only one more day to post, then I'm done. Woohoo! I've got about half of it, so it will be up shortly.

In the meantime, here is the journey into Sedona and our chaos trying to get there.

Hope you enjoy!

:D
Caroline

DAY FOURTEEN

October 13, 2007

Since our initial trip to Target to gather supplies, we’d been carrying around extra towels, some beer and a myriad of other supplies. We’d tired of our cooler back in Idaho and decided to put it to rest, but there was still a lot of stuff that we’d acquired. There was also the problem of all the things we’d accumulated along the way – souvenirs of our special journey. And books; lots of books! Quickly thinking through what we’d need form our stash for the next day, we unloaded our box-o-goodies that held our snacks and necessities and shoved them in a plastic bag. The pile we decided to leave began as a small offering, but soon turned into a Mecca of items for the motel owners: towels, plates, cups, alcohol, pretzels. You name it, it was there. We knew they’d be pleased.

Now, with an empty box, we started to load all our treasures from Route 89. There was no way we were going to use a whole piece of luggage to truck this home, so we agreed to find a post office and mail it back home. There were books on Bryce and Zion, chocolate, bookmarks and even honey. These were all things we wanted to remember our trip, but we figured if something did happen to the box, we’d be alright. Neither of us wanted to carry this puppy on the plane. With the skills of a surgeon, Kathy packed every inch of that crate and we loaded it up to mail out.

Who knew that finding a post office or UPS store would be the crux of the day?

The small town we stayed in had a post office – but it wasn’t open on Saturday! ?? How is that even possible? Frustrated, we pulled the heavy box and loaded it back into the car and tried to figure out where we could send it out. “Wanda” tried to help us find a terminal, but we were having next to no luck, and time was running out! We drove and drove and finally ended up hitting Sedona in a panic, blowing through the twists and turns of the scenic route. Missing all the towers of sediment squeezed between the millions of tourists that were camping along the way.

It was now closing in on noon and we still couldn’t find a post office. The chamber of commerce was barely helpful, giving us directions to another closed facility. Finally, a citizen was able to tell us of another post office that was open until 1pm. We raced down the strip, continuing to ignore all the beautiful red rock and finally pulled in the parking lot. $27 later, our box was on its way and we could finally relax. Phew!

We headed back into town to breathe in the sites. The town pretty much consisted of one tourist trap after another and their own version of ‘Cows on Parade’ – Javelinas on Parade! A javelina is basically a wild pig that is native to the area. The designs were cute and arty, but a little much to take every ten feet. Here - everywhere - are these monoliths of gorgeous, deep red-orange earth making a fortress of slate, and at every turn, someone is trying to sell you a t-shirt. Or take you on a pink hummer ride. Anyone who’s ever been to the Dells in Wisconsin would have an immediate understanding of the tourist-o-meter of this place. Although, there were a bunch of galleries with aspiring artist’s work to help quell some of the tackiness, but it still didn’t justify the chaos. While the surrounding scenery is beyond breathtaking, Kathy and I both felt the town itself was a detriment to the area.

Our stomachs were assaulting us from lack of food, so we found a cute sports bar to grab some lunch and watch some college football. There was a dance by the local Native American tribe (Navajo, perhaps?) that I did find quite interesting, so we watched that for a while and wandered in and out of the crystal and metaphysical shops directly surrounding the square. We grew tired of people almost instantly (because we really hadn’t been around any most of the trip) and decided to see if we could get closer to the true stars of the area.

Back in the car, Kathy took some side roads up into the private housing in the area. A few right turns later, we ended up on a trail of sorts where we spotted a real wild javelina! Who knew! It scurried off before we could really get a look at it, but I think I have a blurry picture of its backside. Certainly another companion piece to ‘Black Bear at Night.’ (Maybe I should do a separate page of ‘animals I saw but have no proof of.’ I’m sure that would go over really well!)

We wandered in the area filled with cactus of all shapes and sizes – a vast difference from the glaciers we saw two week’s prior. Several flowers were protruding from the sand, making themselves known as well. We finally got some rich colors other than the dominant yellow that surrounded us through most of the trip. There were deep purples and reds speckled through the desertish atmosphere. It’s not really hot there (at least it wasn’t for us) but the climate is certainly different, and the ground is not covered with grass. We found some beautiful angles for pictures and enjoyed the true majesty of the area – away from people. The real shame was missing the up-close-and-personal panorama on our way down through Route 89 into Sedona. We passed some of the most amazing roadside formations we’d seen. A quick gasp here and there were the only souvenirs we’ll take from that part of the highway.

Taking in what we’d learned from our trip, Kathy and I found solace in what we could get from the area. Found our Rainbow for the Day! Nature’s carvings here were awe-inspiring, and having seen their cousins along the way, it’s fascinating to see the infinite stretch of this red rock through Utah and Arizona. There is this common thread in each of these areas, yet each one has its own unique stamp on the formula. I would have never guessed at the absolute beauty of nature in the mountainous region of the country had I not seen it myself. Kathy’s eye for traveling came through on this trip – big time!

The day was growing long in the tooth, and we decided that it would probably be best to get to Phoenix and near the airport so that the morning wouldn’t be a huge rush. We took 89 out of Sedona, seeing the last sentinels of fiery rock, and eventually ended up on Hwy 17 so we could pick up some time, watching the fleeting saguaros in the distance. I tried desperately to capture a few at sunset, but we never hit a big run of them. I did get a cool picture of the sliver of the crescent moon on the horizon in the rainbow sky. I guess that would have to do.

We found a hotel and settled in for the night, ordering Chinese from the local restaurant (that needed directions to the hotel!) and relaxed. It was hard to believe that we were flying out in the morning and that this dream of a journey was coming to an end.

Sunrise, Sunset...

Thu, 14 Feb 2008 05:28:40 GMT

This is our Bryce Canyon Sunrise and our trip to the Grand Canyon - and beyond... I'm still working on Day 14 and the flight home, but should have those up shortly.

:D
Caroline

DAY THIRTEEN

October 12, 2007

Morning came much too early as the alarm buzzed in our ears. I’d promised Kathy that I’d be up and at ‘em early enough to catch the sun’s rays on the hoodoos. It wasn’t easy; I don’t do mornings well.

After some debate, we decided to go back to Inspiration Point, since there were various angles and heights to capture. The air was brisk, but not too cold, so we’d grabbed our patented cups of tea for the road, becoming experts at using the coffee machine to steep our own brew.

The park ranger was there again to take our value pass and wished us a good trip. We raced through the park, now a little fearful that we were running behind. The sky was already turning a raspberry pink, signaling the entrance of our bright friend. The sign of our destination was ahead and we screeched into the lot, finding only a few cars - again.

We limped up the hill to find a couple of avid photographers with tripods ready to go, aimed at the amphitheatre; the light of the day just touching their permeable peaks. Looking downward, the white layers of the hoodoos were starting to come alive with a glow that was not visible the day before. The reds of the rock seemed to vibrate in anticipation of their basking.

Above, pinks and blues flirted with each other across the heavens, waiting for the arrival of the star. Slowly, a hint of yellow peaked out at the bottom of the sky, indicating that she was on her way up for the morning exposure. Clouds nestled to the bottom of the horizon welcoming her with open arms as she stretched into the day, one tendril at a time.

On cue, the hoodoos suddenly absorbed more of the sunlight, adding a new vivacity to their shells. They draped the radiance on their shoulders like Saks designer clothing and a whole new landscape was before us.

It was spectacular!

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the beams enveloped the pinnacles. They actually seemed to blaze the further she ascended, inching her way among the wisps. More colors announced their arrival as the sunbeams shot across the atmosphere to the hoodoos. Every second, something different happened. Between the sun and the shadows, the angles on the rocks held so many options for beauty, it was impossible to know what to take in first.

We stayed for about an hour or so, watching the display before us morph into scene after scene, but we knew we needed to be on our way. After a quick stop at the gift shop, we packed up our gear and hit the road for the Grand Canyon.

But, of course, we had to stop – again. The Red Canyon was there, begging to be explored, so we had to oblige.

We flirted with the red rock as we wove our way through the trails and the unusual foliage on foot. We each went our separate ways, being drawn to different areas of the site. Looking at these formations up close certainly showed their relationship to their cousins in the amphitheater. The red was more vivid and darker, but these hoodoos were not as shapely and they seemed much bigger. In fact, I’m not sure they’re called hoodoos out this way.

The rock stood sentry over the grounds; a few select pieces jutted higher than the others with their oblong shapes and horizontal cracks. The ground held many samplings of colorful stone, ranging from yellows to deep orange and red. In between, pine cones and needles were littered among them like placeholders for the next batch of pebble.

Just when we thought we were out of the weirdness of Bryce Canyon, we were assaulted all over again. This time, we were able to get up-close and personal with a part of history, adding the extra bonus that the hoodoos of Bryce did not allow due to time constraints. Next time.

We finally found each other again and hit the road, reuniting ourselves with 89 SOUTH. The Taurus drove us back to our original destination as we made our way to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

On our way, we passed back near Zion where we witnessed the Coral Pink Sand Dunes and they are definitely pink! At first, we were unsure what we were looking at, then Kathy remembered reading something about this park being along route 89. The area is not very large, but it is unique and apparently a product of the Vermillion cliffs on the other side of the Grand Canyon.

This desert is home to various animals, but the Coral Pink Tiger Beetle only lives in this area of the world. The creature sports a metallic green head and grayish body. Can’t say that I’m sad we missed it, but it is fascinating that it only lives in this small region. We blew through trying to get to our next destination, but it’s very surreal to look at small plants and trees surrounded by this pink wrapping.

We continued to head south until we hit Jacob Lake Lodge, located on the mouth of highway 67. The North Rim of the Grand Canyon was a mere 42 miles now, so we decided to stop at the hotel/restaurant/tourist trap for a bite to eat and to check if they had any rooms for the evening. They were fresh out (which became the mantra of the evening), but we got a nice snack for the road and looked around the gift store. And the strangest thing happened – Kathy noticed this woman.

“I’ve seen her before. Do you recognize her?”

I was oblivious, but after a moment, Kathy caught her attention. It turned out she was on the same bus at Zion National Park with us! It’s just such a small world! She decided to tour the same areas we were looking at – but by herself! She was the second lone female traveler we encountered (the first took our picture in the Narrows)! Girl power!

We decided to hit the road before it got too dark and found more devastation from fire along the way. We later learned that this wildfire – caused by a lightning strike – started in June of 2006 and burned for a quite a long time. Many tourists and workers were stranded because of the proximity to Hwy 67 and burned over 50,000 acres (I believe). The devastated area torched the landscape and scattered the wildlife; but it’s part of how nature keeps itself going, just like in Yellowstone. It seems like it’s the worst thing in the world, but in the end, nature rejuvenates itself to continue to flourish and grow.

We approached the Grand Canyon Lodge and its cabins with excitement. This is one of the most famous landmarks in history, and Kathy had never seen a glimpse of it (I’d been to the south rim in the 90’s for about an hour). We worked our way through the lot and into the cabin area. What a cool place to stay! The Lodge was ahead and we peaked in, hoping that perhaps there’d be a room here – but no such luck; just a crabby man at the front desk who was sick of answering questions about room availability. So, we grabbed a cup of tea, headed out to the balcony and soaked in the awesomeness of the canyon below, propping our feet up on the railing and just staring.

A gentle miasma hovered over the gorge as we looked downward. Sight went on for miles, but the clearness was disturbing. Again, we thought of how much more beautiful some of the scenery we’d passed would’ve been with the sun gracing us. It seemed we were destined to get glimpses through the clouds of nature’s wonders, but we were there, and that was the most important thing of all.

The tea was tepid made its way down as we shivered (okay, I shivered) slightly at the temperature. A family of tourists fed the chipmunks and these vivid blue birds along the ledge. While it’s frustrating to watch people blatantly break the rules about feeding animals, seeing this bird up-close was wonderful. The blue in its feathers glimmered as it glided quickly down to grab the cookie on the ledge. The wings were more like scales as the variances of blue permeated its body. It also had a spiky black head with white around its eyes like the opposite of eyeliner. Over the back, a gray splotch draped like a sweater to keep the chill away. Truly one of the most beautiful birds I’ve ever seen! I still have no idea what it was though!

After that novelty wore off, we continued our observations of the massive rock with the varying colors below. They almost had a purple tinge to them at first glance, but upon further inspection, the deep reds and stained white of Bryce and Zion shone through. Here, too, layer upon layer battled its way through the anger of Mother Nature’s past, struggling to survive each blow. There are no delicate stratums with intricate carvings – just huge intense beasts.

The history that this place holds is amazing; millions of years in the making! It turns out that the top layer of the Canyon – the white sediment – actually was the bed of the ocean! There are fossils in the rock of clams, sponges and various sea creatures. The whole area was underwater eons ago. The eruption of volcanoes disturbed the platelets of the earth, pushing them upward to create the spires, while being cooled by the conflicting waters. The Colorado River continues to weave its way through the sediment, changing the shape and size of the gorge with each pass. Eventually, the water will wane the rocks to nothing – thousands of years down the line.

I guess there’s really no way to describe the awesomeness of the area – all 290 miles of it! Incredible!

The day was getting on, and we figured that we’d need to drive in the daylight to find somewhere to stay for the night. We trudged back to the car, spotting a Kanab squirrel along the way (big, bushy white tails and sleek bodies – indigenous to the Canyon area). We loaded up and rode back through the 42 miles of weaving road to the edge of Route 89 again.

That was just the beginning of our driving for the evening, however. We learned that there’s no civilization at all on route 89 from the Grand Canyon to Flagstaff. I’m not taking anything away from nature – because what’s there is absolutely breath-taking - but with no cell phone coverage and no sign of life for miles and miles and miles, it’s a little nerve wracking.

We drove and drove, finally getting around the Marble Canyon (which is supposed to be absolutely magnificent) when Kathy asked me to pull over and take a look at the sky behind us.

It was on fire!

The bluish hue was fading into night, but not without a whole lot of color bursting out from every direction! The clouds were at that perfect level, just settled above the mountains we’d driven through, to accentuate their awesomeness.

Vivid pinks and oranges filled the sky and literally looked like flames. They rolled over the rocks with purpose and stunned us. While there were few cars on the road, the ones we did see also paused to take in the scenery as well, knowing that this was not your typical sunset. How amazing this would have been over Bryce or ‘the Canyon.’ We were lucky that Kathy spotted it at all.

We stopped parallel to the Vermillion Cliffs. At the time, they simply seemed to be large sediment that went on for miles. Actually, it was more like forty miles of just straight highway - literally. Our trusty car ran beside them, and we were glad we’d filled up the gas tank. It was unnerving not seeing an end in sight as the sun found her blankets for the evening.

After doing some research, however, I feel like we missed the boat on this one. The beauty of the rock formations etched away by water drilling its way through left behind waves of curiosity imprinted on the sediment. The area is one that needs to be hiked, but the treasures hidden along the way are astounding. Definitely something to go back and visit when we’re back this way.

Twilight took over and we worried about stray elk and deer passing the almost-deserted highway. Wanda (our GPS) led the way and told us our next town would be Tuba City, Arizona. As we got closer to that destination, we realized that the town would not give us the shelter we needed, so we forged on to Flagstaff – three and a half hours later! Of course, once we got there, we found out that North Arizona University was having parent’s weekend, and there wasn’t room at the inn. Anywhere!

It was getting late; we were cranky and just needed to get some rest. We finally ended up about twenty miles outside of Flagstaff in Winona, Arizona. We puttered around for a bit and finally ended up at an out-of-the-way, family-run motel off the ‘downtown’ strip. It was clean and had running water, which was pretty much all we needed – especially after driving for almost four hours in the dark. We lugged our stuff upstairs and we both quickly got ready for bed as we had more driving to do tomorrow.

Ouch!

Thu, 14 Feb 2008 05:20:32 GMT

Sorry it's taken SO long to get this entry up. It certainly doesn't have the same flow as when I posted from the road, but the beauty of the area is still due its praise.

I'm also trying to see if I can do this 'cut' thing so it's not a huge waste of space. I think you just click below on Day 12 and you can read the adventures to Bryce Canyon... No promises, I'm still no good at this!

:D
Caroline

DAY TWELVE

October 11, 2007

Ouch…

Man, who knew that every bone in your body can actually hurt all at once? Well, Kathy and I found out the morning after our big climb. There were no early morning scampers as we faced the day. We were like two old ladies needing walkers to even step a foot across the room! The worst part was that, in addition to barely being able to move, we were on the second floor with no elevator. And our suitcases were heavy! It took us the better part of the morning to finally get our stuff together and out of the Lodge.

The idea was to make it to Bryce Canyon before sunset. That’s one of the popular things to do there so our goal was to limp into ‘town,’ get a quick bite to eat at the Mean Bean, check our email and hit the road after being idle for the last few days.

The coffee shack was touted in one of the books we’d read, so we wanted to give it a try, even though neither of us really drink coffee. By the time we got there, we were at the end of their serving day and we actually were locked out of the café, having to eat outside – and upstairs.

Ouch.

We scanned the map and realized that in order to get where we were going, we had to go back into the park to take the beautiful Highway 9 through the rocky giants once again to get to Highway 89. With our National Parks Pass in tow, we drove back into Zion, hoping to make it to Bryce with a few hours to spare before sunset, settle in, grab some aspirin and enjoy the rest of the day.

But we had no idea what we were driving back into.

This was a whole new section of the park, filled with fresh wonders to behold. The tangled path through the stunning scenery started the chorus of ‘wow’s’ and ‘oohs,’ accompanied by the occasional ‘ouch’ for good measure. Just breathing was still painful.

We twisted and turned and followed a different kind of switchback up the elevation to ‘the tunnel.’ This passageway was actually carved through the slickrock in 1930 to shorten the distance through the park. The main tunnel was about a mile long, and when we emerged on the other side, the rock tended more towards the ‘white’ side. This was where the Checkerboard Mesa (a white rock giant carved with a criss-cross pattern) made its home along with the towers of sediment along the way. Of course, this meant more pictures as the beauty never ceased to amaze.

The oddest thing about going through the tunnel was the strange little ranger dude. He handed Kathy a wooden stick and simply told her to give it to the man at the other end of the tunnel. With no further explanation, she took the stick, handed it to me, and hit the accelerator.

The parade of cars obeyed the speed limit as we worked our way through the darkness. Larger vehicles wouldn’t stand a chance trying to get through here and some need escorts to do so. We puttered along and finally saw light at the end of the tunnel (but no choirs of angels) and another little ranger man took the stick from Kathy, thanking her for doing a good job, and we drove away. I watched in the rear-view mirror as he handed the stick to the car waiting to enter from the other way as soon as we made our escape. This was, apparently, how they could tell when the last vehicle passed through the tunnel. Makes sense, but it was way too mysterious for our taste.

The panorama as we drove continued to amaze us. The road actually consisted of a deep red; probably some kind of clay from the area that was mixed into the cement. It was a shocking contrast to the speckled whites of the rock around us. Trees were ramped again through the crevices of the area and at every turn the opportunity for a picture was like a siren song. Keep in mind that every time we moved, our bodies screamed from our adventure the day before, so getting out of the car to take a picture was quite a feat! We had to finally just say enough was enough and we treaded onward to our next destination.

Finally making our way to Route 89, we were a little distraught that we were going north instead of south. The whole idea of the trip was to do 89 South to Phoenix, but because of our snow-in at Yellowstone, we had to backtrack north a spell to hit Bryce. It was easier to glance through this part of the trip since we knew we’d be right back this way to go to the Grand Canyon tomorrow. What we weren’t expecting were ‘pre-hoodoos’ along the road.

A hoodoo is an erosion of sedimentary rock that stands in a spire, chiseled with unique grooves caused by water freezing and thawing. They’re in the same family as their humungous brothers at Zion – color-wise at least – but what they display is quite different. We were teased with a glimpse of a hoodoo along the road, whetting our appetite for the next level of weirdness we were about to encounter. Funny enough, it was only in that one spot, many miles from Bryce, that we saw a preview. We waited for quite a time before we saw the sign to Bryce Canyon where we knew his long lost brothers would be in droves.

Little did we know that we would get yet another treat as we got closer to our destination.

Right before entering the actual ‘park’ at Bryce, we hit yet another area of interest - Red Canyon. These are piles of carved bright sierra rock that flirt with their whitish cousins. Many look like pieces from a chess game but really, there are no words. The rocks here are along the road for you to get up-close and personal with, and their porous features are fascinating. They’ve met the same fate as the hoodoos – being tortured by the freezing waters – yet somehow their appearance is quite different.

This whole section of the United States is like your brain on crack. Just as you think you can wrap your head around the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen, something else pops out at you that’s more bizarre then the thing before. Kathy yelled at me to shake a leg (which still hurt, by the way) so I snapped a few more pictures and headed back to our little Taurus.

We pulled into Ruby’s Inn, just outside the entrance of the park, looking for vacancy. Ruby owns this town; in fact it should just be called Rubys. There’s a Best Western, a row of ticky-tacky strip malls with everything from black and white reenactment photos, to helicopter rides. They own the three restaurants, the gas stations, the general store and the hotel across the street. We’d missed the last room by minutes (damn red rock!) so we left the small village and traipsed across the way to the much dingier (and cheaper) motel to look for a room. We checked in and headed onto our next great adventure, hoping to explore the hoodoos before sunset.

Bryce is tiny in comparison to Zion; the whole accessible park is probably fifteen road miles. It spans much more than that, but in order to get to it, you either have to hike or attempt some of the limited backpack country. Knowing we were short on time and a hike was certainly out of the question, we decided to grab whatever eye candy we could along the blacktop. Our first stop was Inspiration Point, where we were advised it was the place to see the sunset (according to the ranger) so we pulled out our trusty map and headed that way.

The park was stippled with people, but it wasn’t too bad. We ached our way up the small incline (that felt like a mountain) to see what the hubbub was all about. As the tree line broke, the tips of the hoodoos came into view. We inched closer and saw the magnificence of the area.

It was just…awesome!

Abstract points poked out in every which way, bathing themselves in the falling sun. As each second passed, they clung to a new tone, wearing and discarding it all at once. The shadows darkened the interspersed forests between the formations as they crawled up the hoodoos. The sand, caused by years of erosion, decorated its pinkish hue as it fell at the feet of the pinnacles like a warm blanket tucking them in.

Did I mention it was awesome?

You shake your head in wonder as you look at this amphitheatre filled with sediment from millions of years ago. Even the scientific explanation for their existence is hard to wrap your head around; it’s simply nature at its finest.

We knew the ‘official’ sunset wasn’t for another half hour or so, so we decided to take a gander a little deeper into the park to see what was there. I skimmed through our guide book and read that the Natural Bridge got high marks, so we trucked along the winding roads to see for ourselves.

The little brown sign told us to turn left into the parking lot, so we did as instructed. The chill in the air became more evident now as the elevation change was hitting its mark. Bryce is a full 2000 feet higher than Zion canyon (assuming you climb a mountain that’s 5970 feet – ouch) and now the waning sun was letting us know that it was time for some additional layers.

The Bridge should really be called an Arch, because that’s what it was; a freaking cool arch! The top almost looks like Bart Simpson’s hair as it spikes into the sky. Then, it just stops and joins the rest of the formations along the way. In the distance, the hoodoos are not as prominent as in the amphitheatre, but their presence is still known. Bookending the arch are more statues of rock – one that resembled the arm of a waiter bringing the head of beast to his patron. At every turn, the rock is carved with symbols and gouges.

We knew we were fighting the sun, so we swiftly entered our car and headed back to Inspiration Point to see the setting star, fearing we’d be elbowing our way to the top to get the best view. As we arrived at our destination, we were surprised by the lack of cars in the lot. Looking over the amphitheatre, the darkness of the day-end was evident. It was clear that the true show would be sunrise to get the full-effect of the light on the hoodoos. But this did not stop the beauty that happened on the other end of the area.

Kathy took the lead as we gazed into the pit, watching the haze over the dulled colors. The brilliance of the rock was gone at dusk, but the eeriness of the wonder remained. Behind us, the sun journeyed beyond the hills, leaving a few strands of light to play with the wisps of clouds. Deep orange enveloped the sky briefly where the sun was hiding as its final beams disappeared. Its reflection pooled underneath the white, dyeing them with her colors. To the left, pinks and blues infiltrated the sky as the sun pulled herself to sleep for the night. As we began our way back down the incline, we startled a jackrabbit from its own slumber, skittering off into the night.

We stood and watched the radiance unfold, wishing the sky would be clear enough to observe the renowned star-gazing. Unfortunately, it was not to be and we took our final glances towards the sky, knowing that the morning would be quite a treat on the hoodoos.

Angel's Landing, Part 2

Thu, 25 Oct 2007 04:47:44 GMT

Beginning of Act Three.

We began the short descent to start the trail. (Here, my memory is a bit of a blur because I was overcome with terror). I had been warned that right before this part of the course, there is a ‘bridge’ you have to cross. This bridge is about four feet wide and has sheer drops on either side. I looked at Kathy and said, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Yes, you can. You’re doing great. I’m so proud of you!”

Oh, yeah, she knows all the buttons.

I took a deep breath, and then other for good measure, and started across the way, trying not to see the lack of scenery on either side of me. Kathy was already across, sending encouraging vibes to me the whole time. I have to admit, it’s one of the scariest things I’ve ever done, and it’s not even about the height. My prevalent issue is that I’m the world’s biggest klutz. I can walk into a wall standing still. Balance is most certainly not my friend and with the added weight of the backpack, I really wasn’t sure if I could hold myself together long enough to get across. Kathy’s soothing words of comfort and encouragement got me through as I tried with all my might to stop myself from looking down.

After what seemed like a lifetime (but in reality was probably about ten seconds) we were over the chasm. There was a slight tremble in my body and I could feel my eyes start to tear. That pounding in my ears was back, too. I must’ve looked either flushed or pale (my bet is on the latter) because Kathy asked me if I was alright. This became her mantra through our whole exchange to the top, checking to make sure I was still there, both physically and mentally.

We continued onward and upward. I don’t have any pictures of this particular part of the climb because I was too busy hanging on for my life. (Check Tanya's picutres in the other link. They're great for the trail!) Kathy took lead, finding the footholds and carving the way. The first several jogs up were alright, but as we got higher and higher, the struggle became more difficult. Both of us are rather short, and some of the holds were meant for people taller (smarter, faster, braver) than us. It became about ingenuity and how to maneuver the best grip on the rock while doing the splits; all while carrying the backpack.

Along the path were poles and chains meant to assist in the climb. As our first real steps were taken, our clambering was in a sideways motion and several people were attempting to come down from the landing. (Let me just add here, that when you’re already freaked out by the situation, it doesn’t help to have to stop your concentration to get out of the way for the ascending travelers. I cannot even imagine what this would be like during the “on” months where hundreds and hundreds of people flock to this trail daily.) There were just enough people that day to manipulate the flow and stay out of each other’s way, but if you needed assistance, someone was around to help.

The biggest concern I had at this point in the trail (minus the obvious) was that the chain was almost buried in the rock. There was very little give to it, and the scrapes along the sandstone were carved out from the use of the cable grinding back and forth. Trying to grasp it fully resulted in scraped knuckles and cracked fingernails. Then, if you take a gander behind you, you see the clear drop down to the canyon below. Why I kept looking, I’ll never know. Maybe because I didn’t fully understand what I was doing. It seemed more like a dream to be scaling a mountain.

We Spidermaned our way up the side of the wall and hit a small plateau of sorts. The nice thing about this trail was that it was well maintained. There were spaces to cram yourself in to without too much fear of falling off. Here, you can let people pass, or to just take a quick breath. The sojourn was brief before we headed along the path again, getting closer to our destination.

It became more challenging and vertical the further we went. “You alright?” I’d here every few minutes, nodding an answer I realized Kathy couldn’t hear. My attention was on finding the next foothold and avoiding the oncoming traffic. Some of the grips were ridiculously placed where even a giant couldn’t get to them, so we MacGyvered our way up to the next level, knowing that we would be there soon.

Or not.

The next plateau was a faux landing of bright ivory rock. A spindly tree was the major landmark to signal our post. Several people were huddled around making their final decision of whether to stay or go onward to Angel’s Landing. The top looked so close from there, but it was a strenuous climb to get to the top. I gave my best puppy dog eyes to see if Kathy would back down, but I knew better.

It was a much more physical climb now, and the chains were losing their slack from overuse. In order to grab them, you had to lean down, throwing our balance off. Not to mention they moved if someone was grabbing them further up the trail. The shifting of the links was very stressful if you weren’t expecting it. However, seeing as these were the only means of support, you have to adjust to the environment. To make matters worse, the trail was littered with sand – the same slimy bastard we bitched about earlier on when we just started the trail. In the crevices of a mountain, it was not a fun thing. But here’s to the boys at REI who made us test our hiking boots. They were absolutely incredible and we did not lose our footing once! That doesn’t mean you don’t think about it though…

We reached a point where the chains were much higher than we were and it was our job to find our way up to the trail. The added burden of the backpacks was starting to weigh in, and Kathy gave serious thought to leaving hers behind to finish the climb. We’d seen several other people do it, so it seemed like it wasn’t a novel idea. The biggest concern was her camera. She’d lugged it all this way; what if something happened to it? We shook off the idea and continued to the next phase, knowing that the end result would be worth it.

We looked again at our next task and panic set in as I saw no way around this disaster. Kathy took the lead and scrambled to what seemed to be the correct way to attain the chain (hey, I rhymed again!). I watched her and felt I couldn’t follow, so I tried another way. Then, someone started down the trail. Grrr! Couldn’t they see we were having a stressful moment? I plastered myself to the side of the rock like wallpaper making them find their own way down. I had already seen what was below us and being impaled wasn’t on my list of things to do that day. Finally, the crisis passed and we headed up to the top…

Or not.

It seemed to be some kind of sick game to make you think you’re there, then puncture your ego and push you even further. Climbers came into sight and in our pathetic voices we asked, “how much further?”

“Just up that last cliff. Honest. You’re almost there!” And they scurried off.

Sigh…

I could feel my muscles trembling from the strain they’d never known. Just up the cliff.

“You alright?”

I am with you here…

I nodded – this time Kathy could see me.

Out of nowhere, we heard little voices; boys screaming and yelling, kicking up dust and grime. I knew we were done for. And we were so close. Kathy and I looked at each other and found safety among the rocks, bookending the trailhead for them to ascend.

“No, no, you guys go ahead,” we said, waving them onward, as we watched them scamper up the mountain like it was playground equipment. Their leader followed – a bandana-clad man in a black tank top with tattoos on each arm – and apologized for making us wait. He said he was their Boy Scout leader and this was their fieldtrip!!!

“How old are they?”

“Eleven and twelve.”

“Holy crap! We never did anything like that in Girl Scouts!”

He laughed and continued up. This was not good for our already panting egos, continuing to be bested by old and young alike! Still, we carried on.

Knees scraped, hands blistered, fingernails fell off (okay, not really, but it felt like it) and we finally, finally saw the marker tree for the landing.

“This is it, but the real landing is just over these rocks. You’re here,” another kind hiker encouraged, seeing our looks of confusion .

The whole apex of Angel’s Landing was covered with white, slatelike pieces of rock that looked as if they’d been dumped on top of each other, and glued down (you hope). The angles their position created were weird as we traipsed across the slanted path to the other end of the terrain. Both arms went parallel as we looked for added balance making our way to the other side.

Families were having lunch with each other, the Boy Scouts were running up and down, jumping off rocks. People stood and admired the beauty. All in all, there were about thirty or so people when we first arrived.

We plopped down near the ‘official’ edge of the Landing and I wasn’t moving. I was happy to be sitting, even though the slope of the rock was uncomfortable. There were several people hoarding the space, including one family from overseas whose little boy (probably around eight) was calmly sitting, reading a book!! We clambered for a spot and waited until they finally left to gain a better view.

Kathy marched around the top, snapping pictures of the breathtaking beauty (literally). I peeked out every once in a while to see what was below, but for the moment, I just needed to acclimate myself to the fact that I was over 5700 in the air.

We actually made it!

Things calmed down, the families left and I ventured a little closer to the edge, trying to get some of the awesomeness of this place on video. While it scared the absolute crap out of me to make this climb, the end result was well worth it. We accomplished something that neither of us could ever imagine – we climbed a mountain (cue Julie Andrews). It took us just under three hours with plenty of stops along the way.

Now it was time to truly enjoy the fruits of our labor.

Off to one side, Zion Canyon stretched where the rocks reach high to the sky. Their orange bases were graced with white tips – almost like thick frosting that’s sprinkled with that green sugar you use at Christmas. It’s surprising how much vegetation grows that high in the mountains. You certainly don’t expect trees along the trails (although they really assist with the climb) and verdant flowers. It’s another world, really.

As we continued our endless gaze, the floor of the canyon was filled with a copse of trees that we’d never truly noticed when face to face with it. Different greens gathered like patches on a quilt as the map of the land was spread below us. The sky seemed to turn different shades of blues and purples the further we looked. The rainbow of colors was incredible, accented with the gentle haze that seemed to be ever-present. It was easy to get lost in this moment and it’s completely understandable why people climb this way to engage in this view.

A wall of orange faced the other direction as Big Bend stood proud. The day before our climb, there were several actual mountain climbers who were making their way up the face of the rock, spending the night in the cold about half way up (no thanks!) We watched them scrape and hoist themselves further up the face as we took the trolley around the park. By the time we were in a position to see them, they’d already made it safely to the top.

Speaking of the trolley, we watched it bustle by, filled with tourists being dropped at various points. It looked almost Lilliputian from our view and reminded us just how far up we were.

We pulled out our snacks and were assaulted by the ridiculous chipmunks. These things have absolutely no shame at all, actually crawling into your backpack to raid your stuff. It doesn’t help that they were fed or teased the whole time we were there – especially by the Boy Scouts.

The air up top had a special feel and smell; it was cool and fresh, not to mention a little thin. The gentle breeze whistled through the canyon and rustled the bits of foliage around us. The sun beat down just a little harder as the rays touched our skin. The laughter and conversations of the people around us were confident and proud, if not brief. It was a world that many have touched, but many more will not.

And we were here to soak in every moment of it.

Kathy and I sat for a while and watched the people come and go from the Landing. A majority of them came for a quick glance, then headed back down the rocky terrain. These were people who didn’t seem to understand what it meant to make it up this mountain, or were in too much of a hurry to appreciate where they were.

We’d laughed along our journey about the tourists who stop to snap a picture for their scrapbook and head out to the next photoshoot. We really prided ourselves on not doing that; we took the time at each place we visited to absorb the elegance of nature. We joked that as we drove along Route 89 or any of our detours, we just couldn’t look anymore, because around every corner was something new that was amazing. The scenery continually halted our voyage. But this place was so much more than that. It was about accomplishment and fulfillment, and we were so grateful to be able to do this, and truly appreciate it, together.

All in all, I think we stayed about an hour. Neither of us was looking forward to the trip down (and I really didn’t want to face that bridge again), so we just kept stalling, taking in the artistry of the landscape, knowing we’d earned the right to be here.

It was finally time to let go of this wonder and start our own ascent down. We were pretty confident there wouldn’t be too many others coming up as the day was getting on. That was a good thing since we were already exhausted and scared to see everything we’d missed on the way up. We didn’t need additional distractions.

The first plunge was the straight shot down at the 90% angle we’d come up. Of course, this time we could see, head-on, how far up we truly were. Death drops surrounded us at each turn and I’m not afraid to say, I was afraid.

Our legs, arms, backs were already trembling from the strain of the trip up, now we had to rely on them to safely get us down. The pulls were completely different in reverse, and at times, it made more sense to actually go down backwards, feeling with your feet and trusting the step rather than the visual aids. I fully admit that a good portion of the down trip was me plopping down on my butt and just reaching with my feet. The backpack became even more cumbersome because it kept catching in the crevices, throwing the balance off and making us grab harder on the chains. The only good part (or bad, depending on how you look at it) was that you kind of remember what’s coming, so you can try and prepare for it.

But I was not looking forward to the bridge.

I started to get nervous all over again at the thought of having to cross that tiny walkway. Kathy kept telling me to keep looking at the rock, and I did just that. All the way down, I either saw the back of Kathy or the tops of my feet. I checked every footfall before I included my weight and the shoes held true. Before we knew it, we saw a gang of guys who were cheering on a buddy of theirs coming down the mountain.

I looked at Kathy, wondering how much further we had, but as we stepped nearer to the assembly, we realized we were almost at Scout’s Lookout. Neither of us even noticed the bridge; we were concentrating too hard to see what was actually around us. Woohoo! Score one for the good guys!

The rest of the trip down was a breeze (minus the constant aching in our, well, everything) even with Walter’s Wiggles. The stress on our knees was a tad much with the clunking motion of the boots taking the brunt of our weight, but all in all, we knew we were home free.

We reached Refrigerator Canyon again and saw a completely different sight. The sun was gracing the rock now and it lit it on fire! The intense orange of the surface glowed a different shade from when we first ventured in. The imperfections in the rock added deep shadows that gave the face more character. We stopped again, cursing the fact that we couldn’t just let this go; we had to take the moment to see the charm of the afternoon’s coming out party at Zion.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Finally we got the end of the trail, hitched a ride on the now Gulliver-sized trolley and made our way back to the Lodge to pass out from the day’s travels.

All in all, not such a bad way to spend a day!

Angel's Landing, Part 1

Thu, 25 Oct 2007 04:30:19 GMT

Hi! Two weeks ago today we were climbing a mountain! I know I'm really behind, and I'm sorry. Getting back to the real world has been a trip.

I'm still trying to figure this out, and I'm going to attempt to put pictures in here. Hopefully it will work. I have to do it in two parts because it was giving me a hard time. Sorry about that! I also do plan on finishing the journal, it's just that this was really the pinnacle of our trip, so I toiled over making it right. There's still a lot I left out, but my favorite nephew informed me that my journal is like a text book (gotta love those college seniors!) so I tried to break it down a bit more.

Thanks again for all the encouragement and support through our trip. We really enjoyed ourselves and were glad to take you along for the ride.

Here's part 1

:D
Caroline and Kathy

DAY ELEVEN

October 10, 2007

So the day has arrived – the day that I’ve been worried about for quite some time. Let me start from the beginning (a very good place to start).

When Kathy first found the article in the National Geographic magazine about Route 89, she got excited. We started talking about actually doing this; making this trip along this scenic byway of valleys, plains and mountains. Books were purchased, days were spent looking up information online from leads we’d found along the way. And Kathy wanted to hike – really hike. That meant that I needed some reliable hiking boots and for that, we went to REI (don’t ask me what that stands for). Anything you could possibly need to enjoy the world from nature’s point of view – coats, camping equipment, kayaks – it’s all there! This store is an outdoorsperson’s dream.

I am not that person.

It takes me about five minutes in the sun before I get burnt; I’m more about the shade. I watch the waves roll onto the shore – not jump into them. I love the beauty of nature, but I’m not one to really participate in it. So, I knew we were in for some trouble once Kathy had her mind set on hiking.

Every employee in the store was a treasure and a nature enthusiast; really good, honest people. They were thrilled to hear what we had planned. One gentlemen, upon hearing about the trip, insisted that we go to Angel’s Landing in Zion. He went on and on that it was the most stunning view he’d ever seen in a national park and that while the hike up was a little difficult, we could do it no problem (he had also recommended the Narrows as well). He painted a beautiful picture and spurred our interest in the area.

We started to do some research on Angel’s Landing, and I’d spoken to a few people who’d actually been there. The reviews were mixed on the difficulty of the climb, but Kathy and I decided we were up for the challenge. No day but today!

Having been in the park for a day, and having actually seen Angel’s Landing from the ground, I was starting to rethink my keenness (a little shoe humor) for the climb. It was high – really high. Over 5700 feet! And I was supposed to climb this? Me, the person whose idea of nature is looking outside her window and watching a bird fly by? I was beginning to think I’d lost my mind.

***

The rocky monsters again blocked the sunlight from gathering in our room that morning, so I was able to sleep in a little. Kathy was up and at ‘em really early and anxious to get to the climb. Her first thought was to get up around 6ish (ha ha ha) and hit the mountain early, but after our visit to the Narrows and a chat with a young adventurer, she suggested a later start in the day would be more comfortable. That was fine by me and we headed over to have a hearty last meal – I mean breakfast – before we strolled to the bus to take us to the drop-off point.

The sign for ‘The Grotto’ came quicker than anticipated and we stepped off the bus to our destination. There was a ‘tour group’ that was gathering for the guided hike. Kathy and I enjoy the solitude of the adventures - not being rushed - so we let them go on ahead.

We crossed the bridge over the Virgin River and started the at-first gentle climb along the West Rim of the mountain on a sandy path. Footprints of hiker’s past littered the trail and spurred us on our quest. The incline steepened and we both found ourselves out of breath much too quickly. The pictures we’d found online tried to give an idea of what we were climbing, but we didn’t have a map, and there certainly was not a sign that says ‘you are here’ anywhere in sight. We had to rely on what we’d heard and seen, and deduct where we were.

The best thing about having the digital camera was the excuse to stop and take a picture every minute. “Oh wait, I have to get this” and “That’s so beautiful, I need a picture!” With this strategy, I was able to snap legitimate pictures and catch my breath every few minutes (yes, minutes). Luckily, Kathy was in no hurry and we both found ourselves a little worse for the wear as we made our way up the faux switchbacks, gasping for air early on in the game.

The tour group we saw at the beginning of our journey stopped, then passed us. We passed them; they passed us. This game of cat and mouse continued on for quite some time as we huffed up the mountainside. They finally just blew us away, and Kathy and I were left making our way up the steadily increasing incline, feeling more of the strain of our underused muscles that were now begging us to halt our madness.

As we persisted, we found our first set of torturous switchbacks was not the famous “Walter’s Wiggles” we’d read about, so we knew we had a while to go before we hit that stretch of fun. The problem was, this part was unending and really nothing compared to what we were to face ahead. Kathy and I vowed to just take our time, and that’s exactly what we did.

The higher we climbed, we saw that some of the trails were actually semi-paved, which created a nice grip with our fantastic hiking boots. Sand was a little scary as a base for footing up the slopes, and I didn’t need any more reasons to turn back. My heart was already thumping on my eardrums sending an SOS to my head, but I ignored my inner voices and plowed forward. The addition of the pavement added a comfort level to this part of the hike that was not present before.

Up we went, trying to keep ourselves erect to get more oxygen to our struggling lungs (we’d overheard Steve, the tour guide, instructing his flock to do that). The backpacks we carried added extra weight and it pulled from our reserves. Kathy managed to take off her coat and her long-sleeved t-shirt in a matter of minutes, but I kept myself layered and trudged onward.

Finally, we reached the top of the first part of the trail – Act One if you will – and took solace in the fact that we’d made it that far. We mentally patted ourselves on the back for getting through the first mile, turning the corner to see what was next on our plate.

Suddenly, the trail around us was void of direct light and we noted the drop in temperature. This was the famed Refrigerator Canyon - the calm before the storm - where cool breezes dry your sweaty brow after the twists and turns of the previous path. A quick reprieve from the harshness of the path up. The lack of direct sun in your vision allows you to see the rewards for your efforts hidden on this part of the trail. Steep drops border the wide corridor, but nothing scarier than we’d already passed.

The rock was smooth in some areas, like it had been sanded pristinely, yet other parts showed scrapes and violence down and across their sides, creating jagged cuts of unfinished tic-tac-toe boards. Lines of black scorch the sides, but only sporadically, leaving more questions than answers. Statuesque formations stood proud along the way as the foliage placed gifts at its feet in honor.

Lush vegetation, pine trees, mossy plants. This flora would never make it in the oven around the corner on the stone; they’d be fried up and sent to the table as an appetizer. Here they were safe and they flourished.

The sand on the trail was acceptable at this point since there was no vertical incline at all. Here, you catch your breath and take in the beauty of the cavelike atmosphere; forget the woes of Act One and enjoy the intermission of the canyon. The confidence in our abilities grew during this half mile portion of the hike as we chipped away at the mileage.

Overall, it didn’t seem too bad!

Then you come face to face with the real Walter’s Wiggles; twenty-two switchbacks about 15-20 feet in length each with an incline of about 30-45%. It doesn’t sound that bad, really, until you start heading up.

(The best picture of this is really at this website; it's the 7th one. 'Tanya' has some great pictures. She, apparently, wasn't scared out of her gourd as she traveled):

http://www.zionnational-park.com/images/album2/index10.htm

I’m calling this Act Two.

The idea of the switchbacks originally was to give the average hiker a fighting chance of making it up at least to Scout’s Lookout to see the grandeur of the area. That doesn’t mean it’s easy by any means. Every two twists up the steep mountainside, we had to stop and catch our breath, and mine was playing hide and seek. There’s also the added concern of the higher altitude and thinning of the air, but if you’re out of shape (guilty!!), it doesn’t bode well for you on any level.

Regardless of the elephants sitting on our chests, we ferried on, step by step, inch by inch. I stopped and took pictures so I would know where we were, and sipped my water occasionally. The process was still slow climbing those twenty-two little ramps, even after the intermission at Refrigerator Canyon gave us our legs back. Along the way, we piggy-backed on the trail of a couple that debated whether they would go all the way to the top of Angel’s Landing. Then they were out of our sight as well.

Finally, we reached Scout’s Lookout – a flat surface (with port-o-potties!) where chipmunks reigned and people took their last hesitant glances towards the remaining ½ mile of trail. This spot was still quite a ways up, and it’s quite a stunning view, but this was where the average hiker called it quits. You’ve been through a somewhat grueling two miles, and you’ve earned your rest. You still get a beautiful view and a great workout. I would’ve been fine stopping right there, looking around, popping a squat and munching on my trail mix. But I knew it would never happen. We came to conquer this thing, and there was no way Kathy would let us go home without making it to the top.

Lots of people were mulling around. We noticed some of the original tour group hanging around – not willing to take those final steps up the mountain. They seemed perfectly content to bask in the glory of their victory. And I was right there with them, seeing that we were already 5500 feet up.

From here, you get your first glimpse of the “mountain goats” making their way up the side of the rock, twisting and turning as they maneuvered the trail. The chains protruded along the makeshift path and people were either hanging on for dear life or barely using them; there really wasn’t an in-between. It was the first real chance for this to sink in; where you were and what you think you were about to do.

We took tentative steps toward the edge of the mountain, absorbing the magnificence of the land below. The road that embraced the park trolley was clearly seen, and the occasional vehicle puttered by. Views of the Virgin River danced in the sunlight as the water snaked its way through the countryside.

As we pulled our glance skyward, the overview of the landmarks came into play. Now we were just below eye level with the stars of the park – the Great White Throne, Big Bend, Zion Canyon. And, of course, Angel’s Landing – straight ahead! There was a fantastic view downward of The Organ; the “little” piece at the bottom of the Landing that reminded us of a pipe organ perched in a church that’s a million years old.

I stalled here for a spell, hoping that Kathy would be happy with the beauty of the area. Some guy even offered to take our picture by this tree whose roots were protruding from the rock. It looked like it was about ready to fall into the abyss of the canyon. Safe, really safe! I plastered on a big smile as he snapped the picture, thinking that maybe my family and friends would have a nice shot to remember me by. Then I turned the camera on myself and screamed.

Kathy gathered her snacks and put them into the backpack signaling it was time to move out. I gave her a quick, pathetic glance, hoping she’d changed her mind but military nurse jumped into step. Reluctantly, I put my backpack on and followed her towards the beginning of the last half mile of our trail.

Part two coming. The pictures are difficult and I'm sure I'm doing something wrong. Quick note: if you can get to kodakgallery.com, my sign in is carocali@sbcglobal.net and the password is route89. It might be easier to look at them there if you can get in.

Baptism in the waters

Sun, 14 Oct 2007 05:58:14 GMT

Sorry! I'm so far behind. We actually end our journey tomorrow, and I'm still working on the entries. We just simply ran out of time.

Here is the start of our trip in Zion. I've uploaded some of the pictures. Since I can't figure out how to do this from the road, I changed my password at Kodakgallery.com to route89. My sign on is carocali. Please just look; dont touch. I'll try and get them all figured out when I get home, but I wanted you to at least see some of what we're doing..

Again, thanks for all the lovely comments.

:D
Caroline and Kathy

DAY TEN

October 9, 2007

The morning came quickly, but we didn’t have a clue as sunlight was blocked from our windows. These monsters are actually huge at Zion National Park, stunning rocks of reds and oranges, depending on which way the sun shines and how many clouds are in the sky. They are much less intimidating in the sun, even though they still can block the light from getting near you.

We stopped at the front desk because housekeeping came to see us around 11 a.m. to check us out of our cabin. The man the night before had assured us two nights, so we were now a little worried that our charismatic little cabin would be stripped away.

Sure enough, the lodge was sold out, even though I was promised on the phone that our reservation had been moved a night, and the man the night previous had put it into the system as such. At times like these, it’s best to let Kathy take over – so I did. She told Kitty (the front desk clerk) that we were going for a hike and that they’d better have figured it out for us by our return.

The Zion bus tours around the park – there are no cars allowed past the lodge – so we hopped the first one that came through and made our way to the end of the line, seeing several areas of observation along the way; one of those being Angel’s Landing. We’d talked with several people about this ‘hike’ and our goal was to climb this 5700+ foot mountain unless I completely chickened out. Everyone said it had the most amazing views of the park, so I figured I’d get some peer pressure to make it all the way up.

We continued on to the Temple of Sinawava and the Riverside Walk which led to the Narrows – a walk through the canyon basin that’s taken through the Virgin River. The small stream glides along the foundation of the small mountains, helping nourish the foliage of varying degrees, some of which hang from the rocks. The further we got along the mile trail, the more people we saw coming back with smiles on their faces, clothing dripping from their baptism in the waters.

There were many photo opportunities along the walk as mounds of rock jutted to the sky to envelop the sun with their deep orange and brown faces. Each formation has a different characteristic, and every turn brings something new to life. The massiveness of each rock has its own story of how it was created. Erosion from water and time gives them scars of their battles with the elements. Slices on their faces have pulled slag to the ground, making rock and sand debris along the trails.

As the sun makes its way around the Earth, the colors in the masses shift to pull in her warmth. One moment the rock is dull and grayish, the next with the light from the sky, the face is orange and on fire. You can sit and watch the same mounds for hours as they change from second to second. The breaks from attrition become shadows and then fill with radiance. I know we keep using this phrase, but we’ve never seen anything like it.

The end of the walk approached and the rocks and sand held people clad in everything from sandals to waders. Some dipped their toes in the gentle brook; others jumped right in and gave it a shot. It’s not like being on the beach; it’s an actual hike through the park.

We ventured out onto the dry rocks and saw what we could of the stream. Long sticks held the citizens from falling into the water as the current was deceiving and swift. Those coming out spoke of the beauty of the canyon ahead. The whole hike is really sixteen miles, but the true narrowing of the canyon begins around mile three where the rocks become slick with algae and the walk more dangerous. After watching for a while, we decided to come back and give it a try once we knew our room situation had been settled.

The little trolley took us back the way we came to the lodge. I snapped several pictures of the rocks along the way, hoping to catch a glimpse of Angel’s Landing. There was confusion about which rock it was, and we were trying to get a better idea of what we were up against. All the formations were so massive, I wasn’t sure if I would really be able to follow through on my promise to Kathy.

We sauntered back into the lodge figuring we’d have to pack up and ship out. The lodge is always sold out, so we were waiting for a miracle to come through. We walked in to find a smiling Kitty whose manager was able to miraculously find us a room – but not a cabin. We agreed and removed our items from our little cabin. The new room had a nice balcony, so all in all, it worked out just fine. That disaster averted, we put on our matching maroon Keen sandals and readied ourselves for the Narrows.

Our steps were determined as we made our way to the watery hike. More happy people returned from their visit through the stream and we smiled in anticipation of our own journey. Finally, we came upon the entry spot and watched as an older couple came out. They’d been in the Narrows since 10 a.m. (it was now around 3ish), touting of the beauty of the hike. Now we were more determined than ever to get going and see the mysteries around the first bend of the river.

Then we stepped foot in the water.

Oh my God! It was so cold. Kathy and I looked at each other and we could see the debate in each other’s eyes. The couple could see it as well. “Don’t worry, you just lose the feeling in your feet and you get used to it.” We both laughed at how easily the directions slid off their tongues. But thousands upon thousands of people do this each year. If they could do it, so could we!

So in we went, bitching and shivering all the way, but the couple was right! Once you got used to the fact that the 50 degree water was slowly taking the circulation and feeling from your feet, it’s really not a big deal. Then, the chill slowly creeps up your legs as you venture further into the stream. First, it’s just your ankles, and you giggle as the water splashes up your leg at the rushing water, then it gets deeper and you’re navigating rocks that you can’t see. Before you know it, the bottom of your Capri pants have a little more than drips of moisture on them.

The rock climbs to the sky above as you take a breath along with a step, seeing the hidden beauty of the inside walls. The water doesn’t slow for your pace. You either heed its will or get out of the way. Small falls rush over the intrusive rocks and the current is rapid as it heads downstream. It’s not too deep, but the pull is definitely there as you have to cross further upstream to continue the hike. The whole thing seems a bit of a novelty, but then you look around and see why you are truly there.

The canyon walls are filled with dazzling colors that the sun barely touches. Up top, the bright orange smiles down from above, but as the rock makes its way closer to the stream, it dulls in grays and browns. In spots, the walls ‘weep’ the rain and snow that’s been held like a sponge in the slated rock. The moisture in the walls keeps the hanging flora alive as it finds its own place in this strange land of caverns. Every slow turn down the tributary holds a new mystery.

We continued down the way, resulting in the water gaining on our height. Finding the quickest and easiest path over the rocky currents proved to be a challenge, and both Kathy and I had close calls. There was a bin of walking sticks for use along the shoreline before entry to the river, and thank God we had the sense to each grab one. I would’ve been on my rear in no time if I didn’t have that third leg. The current is swift in points, so that extra assistance for balance is a life-saver; especially for a klutz like me.

We laughed one second at the obscurity of what we were doing and were stunned the next as site after site unveiled itself. Trees sprung from nowhere and inhabited the banks and cliffs. Sandy shores appeared as safe havens along the side and we quickly used their solidity to gain ground on the path, dreading the moment when the icy waters would once again envelop our feet.

Small waterfalls appeared from nowhere, racing down the sculpted rocks, adding even more anonymity than we thought possible in this park. Next to the falls, more shrubbery and trees grew in harmony with the environment as the majesty of the towering mounds watched over them. Below, the river kept its course, touching all those that walk in its waters.

The orange canvas held painted designs of black and white streaks, and the porous rock seeped water. At one turn, the water’s reflection was a deep platinum, but around the corner, it greedily gathered the sunlight and shone like a beacon from above. It shimmered with the sun, making it look like the wall was made of pure gold.

The sky was growing dark, and we didn’t want to get stuck in the water already at a disadvantage, so we headed back out and onto dry land. We were assaulted by people who did not enter the canyon wanting to hear all about the mysteries within. We extolled our tales in detail, making them wish they’d taken the time to make the journey.

Kathy and I agree, it was the most beautiful and the most unusual thing that we’ve ever done. We only got a glimpse of what was in the canyon, but what was there was astounding. And as an added gift, we stood and watched three deer feasting on the sagebrush along the river as we made our way back with huge smiles on our faces from our own baptism in the waters.

Here comes the Sun!!!

Thu, 11 Oct 2007 19:01:20 GMT

We are still in Zion, but we're on our way to Bryce after lunch. It's been gorgeous here and it will be hard to leave. Internet has been a hard time coming, as has cell reception, so sorry for the delays. Plus I'm just way behind. Hopefully I'll have something else up tomorrow morning. In the meantime, here's day nine...

Caroline and Kathy

DAY NINE

October 8, 2007

The sun is out, the sun is out!!!

After a charming breakfast of peanut butter and toast for Kathy and homemade bran muffins for me (fiber is our friend) at our Super 8, we packed up and headed out. We knew we had a ton of time we had to make up for and the parks were all the way at the bottom of the long state. We were supposed to be in Bryce Canyon a few days back, so we had to shake a leg to get to Zion and our reservations at the lodge in the park.

That didn’t happen.

We only got a few miles on route 89 and we had to stop for the color! Along Bear Lake, Idaho, was a spectacular array of reds, greens and yellows. We even trespassed to get some good pictures. Our lives were in danger by shotgun-wielding crazies, just so we could get the shot. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but these people are serious about staying off their land! We grabbed what we could and headed back on the road.

Logan’s Canyon Scenic By-way was a turn-off along 89 that we stopped at and got completely filled with mud. The time of day was very sunny (for the first time) and the pictures were a little washed out, but it was gorgeous. The yellows of the trees came alive with the sun, and I finally understood what Kathy was talking about with the Aspen.

The scenic by-way didn’t end with the simple turn-off, and had we known what was in store, we would have left at 6 a.m. (I would’ve still been asleep though – I don’t do early very well). Every turn held a new treasure trove of colors and wonder. A lonely fenced in area held charming scenery for the eye to behold. Copses of yellow trees rolled with the hills, basking in the sunlight. We followed the yellow brick road for a spell and noticed a sign for Tony Grove Road. Kathy had seen that as a side trip from route 89, so we decided to give it a shot.

This was one of the most beautiful settings we’ve seen along this way. The secluded lake was the reward for seven mile climb up the hills of torturous beauty and color. The Aspens were literally glowing in the clear blue sky. The twists and turns brought more moments of awe as each new view took our breath away. After finally getting through the tight road, we arrived at Tony Grove Lake to find it covered in snow.

The small lake cosied up to the trees and rock that surrounded it. The clear water held just a slight shiver as a mild breeze played along the top of the pond, making for an almost perfect reflection of the world around it. There was almost no one there, and those that did come to visit, were brief in their stay.

Taking a deep breath in to enjoy the crisp, clean air, we began to wander around this small gift, snapping several pictures. It was the epitome of tranquility – a moment unlike any other where you stop and realize you are not dreaming what’s around you. You’re actually in this perfect little spot, away from the world and its problems. This is what peace really is, in the beginning phases; and where nature reigns supreme.

The snow was deeper than we thought (4-6 inches) and we noticed the varying footfalls around the lake; each individual with their own stories and reasons to be here. One individual needed to take a moment to make a snow angel for posterity.

The trees had yet to shake the fluff from their branches, and the shade of the pines was enough to drop the temperature down even further. On the other end of the lake, a tree had fallen into the water, almost bridging a portion for a walkway across the silent lake.

Our time here had to come to an end, but this little piece of paradise was the perfect antidote to the rain and crappy weather we’d had the first part of the trip.

Getting back into our car, we met an interesting native who gave us a few other suggestions of where to stop and look. We were already excited for the trip back down so we could capture all the splendor of the changing trees; now we had another charge for our dance card.

The ride down took forever as “wow” was the only dialogue we had for several minutes. Each rotation was filled with shades of yellows and reds. The mountains in the background looked almost purple – especially against the brightness of the yellow leaves – and the pines trees added their spikes of green to accentuate the grandeur of the site! We hit one spot where the hills rolled at the base of the mountain and the yellow Aspen shimmered in the sunlight. The breeze tilted the foliage back and forth as they clung to the white bark, making the colors vibrate. The pigmentation did not end, and Kathy and I agreed that we’d never seen anything like this.

We reluctantly got back in the car, as we still had several hours to go to get to Zion. We stopped briefly at Rick’s Creek (the suggestion by the native) and snapped a few pictures of the little stream trudging through the rocky terrain. Then we experienced the vibrant reds of the countryside from the road, forcing us to pull over, yet again, to capture the brilliance. There was no end to this feast as each turn was more prominent than the next with its originality. It was simply stunning.

Logan, Utah was our port of call, and we finally made it there in time for lunch. The entire area was surrounded by mountains with a fresh coat of snow up top. The town was incredible and held an attractiveness unseen in most parts of the country. Reluctantly, we continued on, knowing that we were now screwed for time.

While route 89 was the idea of this trip, it has certainly been a map filled with detours. Utah is a big state and we started to hit a bunch of little towns that held us up. As much as we regretted it, the decision was made to take interstate highway 15 so we could make up some time and get to Zion before sunrise.

Our detour wasn’t a disappointment as we got a quick glimpse of the Great Salt Lake and the mountains followed us all the way. We also were treated to a glorious open sky sunset along the foothills. Still a site to be seen, just not the one we had hoped and planned for. But this was par of the course since the idea of the trip was improvisation at its finest.

Around 10 p.m. we saw the outskirts of Zion National Park – our next destination on our trip. The skies in this part of the country are magnificent. I’ve never seen anything like them. Door County was pretty close, but this had a richness of stars unlike anywhere.

We saw the signs for the park and were not greeted by our ranger to ask for the entrance fee so we scurried in and noticed there were voids of blackness all around us. We truly had no idea what to expect from Zion, so we pulled over to take a gander at the night sky.

A chill ran down my spine as I looked to the heavens, wondering what was before me. The deepest, brightest stars I’d ever seen were above us, but then – nothing. The outlines of the monstrous rock were everywhere, but we couldn’t see them; all they did was take away the sky like a black hole. It was almost like having a bout of vertigo, not knowing what’s around you, and it didn’t end.

We drove cautiously to the lodge and exited the parking lot, only to see a little fox scurrying away from us. The blackness followed and taunted us as we checked in for the evening. We made our way to our little cabin, equipped with a gas fireplace, only to be frightened by a lean mule deer and her young as we hauled our traveling home inside. Another day of astonishing views had ended.

Escape from Yellowstone....

Tue, 09 Oct 2007 16:46:55 GMT

Well, we finally made it to Zion canyon last night after MUCH stopping along the way. I'm trying to upload the pictures, but I'm having a hard time. there is VERY spotty internet here and NO cell reception.

We're doing fine, just anxious to see what the canyon has to offer. Will try and do more later!

:D
Caroline and Kathy

DAY EIGHT

October 7, 2007

Yellowstone loves us – I mean really loves us. So much so that it won’t let us leave. It almost feels like a conspiracy.

We got up early this morning, got showered and were ready to hit the road early. No breakfast for us; we just grabbed some bars and were ready to go…until they said that Craig’s Pass was still closed.

Frustration began to set in. What do we do? If we leave and head back to West Yellowstone (where they’ve made us honorary citizens) we miss Route 89. Plus, Hwy 20 – the route out of town – was closed yesterday because the snow caused a major accident for several hours. It seems that, this happens quite often and there’s no guarantee that we can make it out there either?

We tried patience.

The woman at the front desk of Old Faithful Inn gave us a number to call to learn of the road conditions in the park. At 9 a.m., the pass was still closed; the same at 10 a.m. There was a club of us who were trying to get out of Yellowstone, but to no avail. By 11 a.m. we’d had it and decided to head out back to West Yellowstone, take Hwy 20 down and get ourselves to Jackson Hole for the night.

We waved goodbye to our Bison friends as they scattered around the roads again, and the tourists snapped away as they beasts went about their business. We made good time back out of the park – again – but this time with purpose. A quick call from Elizabeth (who ran the Chicago Marathon on Sunday and actually finished with a time of about 4 ½ hours – woohoo!!) assured that she was alright was our only stop, and then we headed out of Yellowstone for the last time. Kathy did find out later that the pass did open, but they were requiring snow tires to get through. All in all, we made the right decision.

The GPS didn’t take us the way we wanted to go, so we actually followed a map into Idaho! It was amazing to really be out of Montana. It’d been six whole days and every day, we found ourselves in the state, one way or another.

I was the navigator on this leg of the trip and we’d decided our route to Jackson. Then I saw this little byway called 47 that had Upper and Lower Mesa Falls on it. Well, I’m a waterfall nut, so I suggested this pass. It looked at little scary at first, but turned out to be a beautiful reward for the snow upon snow in Yellowstone.

First off, you have to realize the transmutation into Fall here is absolutely fabulous. We picked this time specifically because of this. The Aspen and other trees vary their peak time, so it’s a stroke of genius to roam the roads now. I think Kathy did some major research to get the correct week because it was like a Geiger counter to color.

As we got further down the trail, we noticed some of the Aspens started to disappear and the other deeper reds and greens begining to emerge. This creates a rainbow of dye that you can’t imagine. Everywhere you look it’s a feast for the eyes. And it never ends! Several miles into the trip of “ooohs” and “aahhs,” we saw the turnoff for Lower Mesa Falls. We really had no idea what to expect.

The dirt road wound down to the honor system pay box asking for $3 for entry. I used my National Parks Pass (which has been an absolute godsend on this trip! Totally worth the $80!) and we strolled through the parking lot, following the sound of the water like the Pied Piper.

This park is really well maintained, and the wooden planks led us to varying levels to gain the best views of the falls. The steep drop is deceiving as you get closer to the water. Cliffs with bright red bushes and trees, and erect pines are everywhere. Yellowish moss infiltrates the dark rock and we even spotted a lone fern high above the water. This isn’t even the falls!

Millions of gallons of water a day wash over the waterfalls. This powerful force pulls the rock and shapes the area as it bullies along. The cascade is graceful and swift; pure and true. There is no pollution here that the eye can see and the ear is serenaded with the roar of its will. All the senses participate on one level or another, and we stood and watched it all unfold before us.

Further up the road is the Lower Falls that we didn’t even know truly existed. They can only be viewed from afar and they are even more powerful than its predecessor. Nestled far back in the woods and cliffs, the falls can be heard from the perch of the road. The water is bookended by the amazing forested area, painted against the gray sky.

And our last stop on this little excursion down Hwy 47 was Bear Gulch; Idaho’s second ski resort - now defunct. The area is dotted with the reds and greens, and the straight drop down makes known the reason for the failed resort in the first place. The smell of pine permeates the air here through the light breeze.

We’d already made too many side trips and we knew we’d have to be on our way. Our pleasant surprise brought a smile to our faces as more of this country’s beauty made itself known; in Idaho of all places!

I’ve already mentioned the craziness of the open range cattle, where people allow their cows to just roam free into the roads and wherever else they may go, but this was a new concept. Open range sheep! Keep in mind, we’re not in Ireland; these things shouldn’t happen. This isn’t the Pioneer days when the herders had no control. But, in fact, this is the lay of the land in these parts. And what was even weirder about this particular Ripley’s moment was that there was a watch-horse looking out for them.

We drove by and I noticed the sheep hanging out in the grassy area of a power station (a power station??) off a beaten path. A creepy trailer was next to the property – apparently where the owner of the sheep lived – and next to it was his pick up truck. The combination of these two vehicles provided a line for this laundry to hang and freeze (since it was about 40ish) while his horse was tied to a chain watching over the sheep. We cautiously pulled onto the road and the horse went ballistic! He charged up and down the road, watching every move we made. The sheep seemed to sense the agitation of the horse and quickly moved away from us (all the pictures are butt shots in case you hadn’t noticed). It didn’t make sense to continue to upset the animals, so we left them to their bizarre little world.

The journey continued as we tried to make up time along the way, but something always kept us from going on. This time, it was a sea of color right out of a Monet painting. The day was getting on, and we didn’t have much light as it was, but the countryside was remarkable. The mountain held the remnants of the snow in its peak, along with the pines that were part of the snowball fight as well. Further down, the yellows and reds filled in the open spaces between trees to combine for a lush hue of definition. Finally, a small stream made its way through the area with a soft flow, just for added good measure. My camera couldn’t get the crispness of the scene, but it looks like a painting that an inspired artist created of the landscape. What a sight to behold!

Our side trip ended, and we were able to get back onto route 89 after our detour. We missed the Tetons, but our fear was that we’d get stuck on one of the high peaks and never get out of the mountains. These peaks are no joke – 8-10,000 feet!! It just wasn’t worth the risk, and the scenery we saw due to the detour was worth it. We skittered along the outskirts of the Tetons and understand their majesty now. It’s a shame we didn’t get to see more of them, but we know we’d like to come back again to explore this area more.

Darkness was settling in, and after a crazy detour just outside of Montpelier, Idaho, we decided to stop for the night. They are actually blasting rock through the area, and we were held up by a five minute stop light (in the middle of nowhere) to assure that the cars can come across the way. Certainly a necessary thing, but it’s very odd indeed.

The Super 8 called our name and we pulled in. The clerk said that Casey’s would have the Bears/Packers game on, so we went over there to see how we’d fit into the crowd. We barely made it in the door when we sniffed the overwhelming smoke. We looked at each other and high tailed it back to the front of the store where they were serving food. A quick bite, and we went back to our room to see the end of the game.

My beloved Bears were losing, but I continued to cheer them on. While doing that, I started to look through some papers in my suitcase. I came across my Weight Watchers journal and wondered why it was so thick. I peered inside and my mouth dropped open; there was my money! Kathy immediately knew what had happened and I started to cry. It’s a relief to know that I won’t have to wash dishes along the way, but I knew I’d do what I needed to do to make this trip what it was meant to be. The pictures and experience have been worth a thousand dollars, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world! Then, on top of that, the Bears beat the Packers at home! Can’t get much better than that!

Now not leaving Yellowstone....

Mon, 08 Oct 2007 06:21:10 GMT

I'm posting while I can. Read day six first - these are both new entries. I haven't even started today's journal because we got to the hotel and I got to see the Bears beat the Packers!!! yeah! And I found my money (see day six entry)

Also, it seems you can't really find my photos. You can go to kodakgallery.com. My user name is carocali@sbcglobal.net and the password is route89 for the time being. Feel free to snoop.

:D
Caroline

DAY SEVEN

October 6, 2007

Ah, snow, such a beautiful thing, unless you’re traveling.

The Westin Inn (a Best Western) was covered with the thick, white snow as we woke this morning. It’s beautiful, really, but this is an area that lives and dies with the weather. If it snows high in the mountains, there’s no way they’re letting you through, and our way through was closed for business.

We toiled over what to do – should we stay another night, should we go the long way around and skip Route 89? We gathered our items and went into town to shop this tourist trap and make our decision.

Lunch was at Canyon Road Grill – a cute little 50’s throwback joint with James Dean and Marilyn Monroe all over the walls. Food was decent, but the atmosphere was the real draw – and filled with tourists from all over the world. We finished up and headed over to the police station, figuring they’d know whether the roads were open or not so we could make our decision.

The West entrance to the park was open, but Craig’s Pass was still closed, so we decided to give the Old Faithful Inn another go since we didn’t really get a chance to appreciate the 103 year-old structure the day before. It didn’t take us long to make our first picture stop as we wandered back into the forest, gathering the snow-filled trees into our memories. Kathy’s right; the snow really makes the park.

Off again, but this time we caught a wolf (which we later found out was a coyote) traipsing through the yellow fields of hay, hiding him from the untrained eye (remember black bear at night? Think yellow coyote in a hay field). He was stalking something and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. We sat for about twenty minutes just watching him to see what he was after and where he’d go. Suddenly, he sprung onto something and chased it a ways in the field. He was so fast and graceful, but honestly, I don’t know if he caught it. He was determined though, and we saw him make a play for something again several minutes later, trotting off towards the woods with a bounce in his step. It was too cold to watch him after he went from view, so we got back into the cars and headed out.

Another mile or so into the park, a bunch of cars were stacked along side the road, which typically indicates something of interest. This time it was elk meandering slowly into the rest area at Madison Junction. They are really oblivious to what’s going on around them, I just hope that the people in the cars will heed the warnings and be careful of the animals. There are so many stupid people that it makes me worry for the safety of the wildlife.

We followed the elk and got out to stretch our legs. After all, it had only been ten minutes or so since our last adventure, so we needed to keep fresh. By now, the snow had done its major damage to the area, but the effects were still prominent in the area. The worst part was the now bitter cold weather that we really weren’t expecting. I know that I wasn’t dressed for it, thinking we would be in the car most of the time. None of our clothing fashions would have been a problem had we not met this charming fellow whom we chatted up for about an hour.

Jim Folston is a retired airline pilot who loves nature. He’s from Kalispell, MT and was at Yellowstone to see what else was new in the wilderness. He was the one who told us that we saw a coyote, not a wolf, and burst our bubble. It’s probably true; the gentleman certainly seems to know what he’s talking about.

We stood, listening to the stories this man weaved for us with a confident ease. The most amazing tale was his trip through Glacier National with his hiking buddies several years ago. They all started out their day – Thursday I believe – and Jim said he wasn’t feeling well. He told his buddies that he’d wait for them to come back around and would catch up with them. It turned out he was having a mild heart attack and he just hoped they’d come back down in time to help him. When they found him, they radioed to the Ranger Station, but no one was there. Then they finally reached someone at the station, and they didn’t know how to use the satellite phone to call for assistance. There was mass confusion and the rangers said they wouldn’t send a helicopter until they verified that Jim was actually having a heart attack! By the time it was all said and done, they got him out of the park five hours later. They had to do a long line rescue because the chopper couldn’t land, and the two skilled nurses were able to get him out and to safety.

Not three weeks later in Glacier, a father-daughter team went hiking in the woods and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. They walked into the path of a large grizzly Bear and her two cubs. She charged them without thought even though they did not provoke her; her instinct was strictly protection of her cubs.

The daughter ended up over the edge of a cliff, hanging on for dear life, while her father tried to stave her off and get away himself. Eventually, he also went over the cliff, scalped, and they lay there until a tour group on a hike heard their screams. Because of the chaos and mismanagement of Jim’s ordeal, they didn’t question a thing and sent the helicopter out right away, saving both of their lives.

The time just flew as we talked with Jim; a gentle soul with a love of the outdoors. We finally parted ways (we needed the outhouse) and Kathy and I talked about what a treat it was to meet him – our rainbow for the day. When we came back out, he was just gone. We had hoped to get an email or something from him. Then, his blue coat came into view as we started our car. He waved us down to the river where a beautiful six-point buck (twelve points total – we don’t understand how that whole thing works) was feeding with a herd of his cows. The wind was frigid as it swept through the valley and over the river along the way. It was so incredibly kind of him to come find us to share this additional little gift. I did get his email and intend to send him a nice thank you for making our day at the park so much better.

Fly fishermen were everywhere, weathering the elements in their waders. It’s dedication to stand out in waist-high rushing water for the solitude of the river and your love of fishing. We watched them engage the rivers on our trip back to Old Faithful.

There were no rooms at the Inn, but at the last second, the woman at the front desk found us a little cabin out back. We greedily accepted the offer knowing that finding any rooms at that time of day were blessings in disguise. Craig’s Pass was open but we decided not to chance the night driving, especially with the amount of wildlife that’s roaming about. Every few feet you see a Bison, so hitting those at night isn’t our idea of a good time. It just made more sense to stay where we were – safe and sound.

She handed us our room key and we rushed off to see Old Faithful erupt – twelve minutes off schedule (old faithful my foot!) – along with the hundreds of other people freezing outside. They geyser is such a tease as it spouts out little billows of steam, making you think it’s ready to erupt, then it calms again to just the vapor coming out of the basin. When it finally did come to pass, the water sprayed for over two minutes! It’s pretty cool, but I was much more impressed with the boiling mud and the steaming vapors on the way.

Our cabin was cute and the closest we’ve come to actual camping thus far (which both Kathy and I agree we would not like at all!). No TV anywhere at the lodges – which is kind of nice – and certainly no internet. We roamed through the historic lodge, built in 1904, of thick logs and beautiful craftsmanship. It was definitely time to eat, but we couldn’t get a reservation for dining until 9:15. We took in the sites, listened to the piano player in the loft of the Inn, and headed back to the Snow Lodge for some grub.

The sun came out and gave us a lovely little sunset through the forest and clouds and we made our way back to our cabin for the evening.

Vapors and Mud Pots and Bison, oh my!

Mon, 08 Oct 2007 05:24:15 GMT

Sorry! We haven't had internet for a few days... long story (I guess I'm good at that according to my nephew!). I'm a tad behind, but I figured I'd post this, and I'll try and get yesterday up, too. I haven't started today, but a very significant thing happened...

I FOUND MY MONEY!!!!

It was completely an accident, but I pulled a bunch of the brochures out and in a pocket I hadn't seen. Of all places, it was in my weight watchers folder. I picked it up and said 'why is this so thick?' My jaw dropped and Kathy looked at me. I didn't have to say a word! Yeah! Now we can actually eat again!

I'd like to say thank you for all your thoughts, prayers and unbelievably kind offers of support - especially Phil! You are incredible! I really had let it go; it's only money, right? Why let something as beautiful as this be ruined by money? I didn't - really I didn't, and with all your thoughts, you helped me! You're all so wonderful!

So, on with the show....

DAY SIX

October 5, 2007

Our motel windows were opened this morning to the plump, white flakes of wetness. Ah yes, snow - another derivative of rain - so it would only make sense that that weather pattern would greet us at some point. The funny thing though, it actually made things a little better.

The whole park has a different feeling and look to it, like powdered sugar on Christmas cookies. It fills in the doldrums of the browns and yellows that we saw the previous day, and adds a sense of mystery to the peaks and valleys. The pines have a white shade to them now, as the condensation clings to their branches. This was a heavy snow, certainly a few inches, and once it found roost in the pine needles, it wasn’t going to give up easily.

Before we began our daily adventure, we stopped at the Town Café – a little souvenir shop that also served food. VERY diner. The people inside had a different look to them. I was fascinated by this one older woman with a rugged face and aged features. Her gray hair had streaks of her youth bunched in a single pony tail to the back. There were smile lines on her face, showing the emotions of her days, and a comfort about her that I can’t describe. She obviously enjoyed the color pink since everything she wore was a version of it. When they were finally ready to leave, she placed her thick sunglasses on her face, topped her head with a camouflage beret and swung her pinkish jacket over her shoulders to enter the elements.

As they walked out, they passed the Gatalin Forest Repel Team that was on the other side of our table. It turns out these folk actually repel out of helicopters to fight fires! One of the gentlemen said they were working on a controlled burn somewhere in the forest. What an interesting job.

Our waitress was obviously from some Slavic country, but I never got a chance to ask where. Everyone we met today was from somewhere else, looking for a little something different from life. Seems that transplants come for a season to find themselves and either head back home to Kansas or Minnesota, or move on to their next big adventure. I guess I never thought of spending a summer that way, but it certainly seems the thing to do here – and they’re happy doing it!

We entered the Roosevelt Arch and continued our journey back through Yellowstone, stopping right away to absorb the beauty of the snow against the brook near the entrance. The color of the white made the over abundance of yellow seem like a second feature, where yesterday it was the star. The hues of red and greens made for stunning pictures.

I also became fascinated with the snow on the brush. It sat, content, on the small bushes and brought depth to the pictures. This particular area also had a smell to it that is familiar, but on the tip of your tongue. Kathy and I decided it almost seemed like Rosemary – and the bushes certainly look like a relative of that herb – and permeated the air with a heavy odor. It was charming, and so natural.

Our next stop was the Mammoth Hot Springs. The lodge was there, filled with tourists and transplants. I guess I assumed the hotel actually housed the hot springs for use, but I was wrong. The Hot Springs are actually thermal events from the platelets of the earth caused by volcanic eruptions thousand and thousands of years ago (wait, let me push my nerd glasses back to the top of my nose). The vapor just erupts from the earth and pours a constant stream into the air. The water is filled with minerals that have shaped the landscape into indescribable formations. The whole thing looks fake, especially the stepping stones near the front by Liberty Cap (near the entrance). The shape of the hot springs had an almost yellowish translucency to them. The water rushes past them with a trickle, but it creates a force along the way. Off to the side, the perfectly white gulleys of salt-like minerals look like sand castles from a sandy beach. It’s so hard to really explain this look, and as Kathy says “Please see picture.”

We meandered up and down the paths, taking picture after picture, trying to figure out what we were actually looking at. It’s just weird, and amazing, but Yellowstone is all about strange geological happenings – and they have a ton.

The next leg took us past a lone Bison who nuzzled his way into the snow to find additional food, ripping the grasses from the earth for consumption. The snow the makes massive, fury beasts really stand out this time around.

Then we went to Sheepeaters cliff where little rocks are piled on top of each other, and someone decided to make a few snowmen. You can barely see their outline in the picture, but trust me, they’re there. We were also chased around by two ravens about two feet tall. These things have attitude!

More steaming phenomena occurred the further we got into the park. Rivers were boiling with Yellowstone’s rules of nature; and the wildlife just adjust! A male elk and his three ladies hung out along one such river and just grazed as we all watched them. Then, somehow, the buck seemed to be wary of our presence. We had been eeking closer to get a better look at both the river and the elk, but he didn’t want to have anything to do with it. He bugled to his posse, asking them to either be careful or leave (since I don’t speak elk, I can only fathom). We decided we were bugging him and figured it was time to leave. The last thing you want is to be charged by an elk (or bear, or bison or moose), and he was giving us the stink eye for quite some time before we packed it in. We learned that he charged a man earlier, so we figured we’d get out while we could.

We saw lots of bodies of water along the way, and stopped to grab a few pictures of Twin Lakes as the sun snuck out to shine through the eerie, rippled clouds. We finished up and started to drive when I saw a few bison in a small valley by the road. I asked Kathy to stop so we could go and snap the creatures. A parking lot was over the pass, so we pulled in there and I walked back down the road to catch nature up-close. As I neared the valley, there was a slight hill in front of me. I was hustling to get over there when I came face-to-face with Mr. Bison! He was no more than fifteen feet from me and I immediately stopped in my tracks with a slight gasp. These things are probably six feet tall and weigh a few thousand pounds, so I figured he’d probably win in a fight. It was like a cartoon; I started to back up slowly so as not to startle him. I swear, they were in the valley not two minutes earlier and this puppy was in my face in no time! While they seem a gentle animal, I didn’t want to take any chances, so I turned tail and hiked back to the car, laughing the whole time.

They decided that my trial was worth following and they meandered over to the parking lot to continue their afternoon feast. Tourists piled into the area and we watched them saunter through the area, grazing here and there and taking their sweet time. Good for them – it’s their home. It was quite a sight though.

Our next stop was along the highway to Artist’s Paintpots. It was a blip on the map and there was a short paragraph in our guidebook about it. They mentioned bubbling mud, so I got all giddy and we decided to give it a look.

It was a short walk back through the Christmas tree sale and up some hills to see more steaming billows. We weren’t sure what to find, but it certainly wasn’t what we thought. Rainbows of color on the hills accented the mysterious steam. Little puddles of boiling water litter the landscape at every pass. We watched in fascination as a pond the size of $.50 piece gurgled, proud of the product it produced. A foot away, another strange pool babbled, neighbored by a deeper crevice that seemed almost like a reef. And the water is really hot! Kathy dared me to put my finger in, and it came back toasty warm, smelling a bit like sulfur. It’s the weirdest thing. And the colors these treasures create are just captivating. At every turn, there was something more bizarre than where we just were. Kathy said it reminded her of Mars and I wholeheartedly agree.

We climbed a little higher and saw more steam as we made our way to the mud. There, a crest of white-gray muck is just hanging out, burping every few seconds and covering the area in its creation. It seemed to look like potter’s clay, ready for molding, except that it’s bubbling and gurgling, and probably pretty warm (see above note). It also reminded me of pancake batter, especially when you have it hot on the griddle and the bottom side is just getting brown enough to flip over. Really, there is no explanation for this, but I’m doing my best here.

Right next door to that phenomenon is another puddle of mud, but this is way more active than its caged in neighbor. There are constant splashes from probably twenty little hot spots. It’s the same consistency as the other mud, except that this looks more like when you open the paint-by-numbers container and the oil is gathering at the top of the little plastic bottle before you mix it all up. Really cool stuff.

Our visit to the Artist’s paintpot completed as we ventured to the next area. I was really excited to find a waterfall, and we were granted the beauty a few miles down the road. Gibbon Falls is an eighty-four foot drop that spreads out over the rocks as it cascades down to the Gibbon River. It ribbons down the sides, leaving spaces in the middle of the rock. The whooshing sounds are soothing, bringing an additional love to this area. It is a tourist attraction, however, so people litter the observation area – especially obnoxious patrons with Wild West jackets and women who do their best imitation of Tammy Faye Baker. Oh, I’m sorry – I digress. The spot is awe-inspiring and adds a perfect companion to the lush green forest and the deep reddish-brown rock.

There is a picture I’ve seen of Yellowstone that I always thought was fake – a sun-like rainbow with wisps of steam. It seems a thermo picture so you can see the variance of temperatures, but it’s real. The rain and the steam veiled our view, but you can see the bright orange tendrils of the basin as you walk over the observation deck. I can only imagine what this looks like in the sunlight (Kathy’s favorite catch phrase) but this is truly a wonder to behold. Someday, I hope to see it in its full glory. These geysers and hot springs are really amazing.

The rain was getting to us and it started to get a little chilly as we got to Old Faithful Inn. They were sold out for the evening, so we ended up going back the way we’d come, past all the cool things we’d just seen and went to West Yellowstone. On our way, a herd of Bison stopped us, well they stopped everyone. There were probably thirty to forty ambling across the road, so we just sat and watched them. They’re so peaceful and beautiful.

We finally made it to West Yellowstone – a cute little town that reminded us of the Wisconsin Dells. The couple at the front desk was adorable; transplants from Florida here for the summer. They checked us in and we headed to the room to call it a night.

The road not travelled...

Fri, 05 Oct 2007 15:45:59 GMT

Okay, this is unedited, so I'm sorry for the mistakes. We wanted to get on the road and I fell asleep last night , so I didn't get to review it.

Also, you can access the pictures through the link from day 3 (I think) on my kodak account. Yesterday's pictures are called Chief Joseph, the day before is Lewis and Clark. Hope that helps!

Off to Yellowstone - in the snow!

:D
Caroline

DAY FIVE

October 4, 2007

Red Lodge is a quaint little town on the outskirts of Bear Tooth Highway. After deciding against the Bear Tooth Inn (which had an outdoor hot tub and no other occupants) last evening, we ended up at the Pollard Hotel in the downtown area. While we didn’t have the lovely wilderness at our feet (and a strange little man who ran the whole inn by himself) we did have a charming little room that’s in the “1000 places to see before you die.” We got up and were treated to a complimentary breakfast (and I mean a real breakfast, not the crappy continental crap you get at a Super 8) as part of the package.

As we savored our delicious meal, we overheard a couple talking about Bear Tooth Highway. It was, in fact, closed – probably for the season – because they got three feet of snow last night! We bitch and complain if we get three inches back home, but this community takes it for what it is and moves along.

I butted into the conversation about the overpass and they started telling us what their plans were for the next few days. Joy and Terry, the couple we met, were in from Denver to see the BT Hwy and were sorely disappointed to hear it was closed. The four of us started talking, and Terry showed Kathy an alternate route to Yellowstone (our next stop) through highway 72 and onto Chief Joseph Scenic Highway. He said it was really spectacular in itself and that it was a better alternative than what we had planned. We chatted them up a little more and thanked them for their assistance.

Red Lodge is very cute, so we wandered in and out of the shops before we headed from town. Joy and Terry kept hanging around and we ran into them at every turn. We figure we’ll probably see them hanging around Yellowstone as well tomorrow and poor Terry will be dragged to another spot that Joy wants to go. Forty years of marriage will do that to you, I guess.

We finally hit the road after filling our tank (there’s not exactly gas stations along the way, so that would’ve been bad had we forgotten to do so) and ran immediately into construction. Now, they don’t do construction like they do in Chicago; this is a bunch of guys and gals, a lot of big trucks and a one lane highway that shares the traffic. We pulled up to a light and were told we had to wait for the other traffic to go through – about 5 to 10 minutes. The signal gal came over and Kathy offered her a Diet Pepsi. She was elated that someone paid her attention. The light finally turned and we were off, making our way over the brown dirt filled with rocks and potholes. They play ‘follow the leader’ with a construction vehicle and that snakes in and out of the construction, dodging the bobcats and the workers (hopefully). When we safely made it through the zone, he zipped around to lead the traffic the other way. There are certainly worse jobs than this, and the scenery ain’t too bad either.

The road held towering mountains along the way that were obscured from view. The puffs of clouds hovered as we sped past, yet towards them. They never seemed to go away, following us like this nasty weather pattern. One mountain reminded me of the Prudential rock, littered with salt and pepper along the top as accent. The dark blues and purples were majestic as we drove; the meadows housing a few sporadic trees as embellishment.

We saw the sign for Chief Joseph Scenic Highway and made our way up the mountains. You don’t realize how high you really are until your ears start popping. We climbed up and turned a corner to find a bright red rock formation in the foreground of the desolate mountains being hidden away from us. The amber waves held a herd of cattle that munched lazily, unaware of being watched, or caring. More turns, different angles, breath-taking beauty that would have been emphasized if the sky were blue (as Kathy mentions every so often).

There is a dullness to this landscape that I’m sure isn’t really there. Everything is muted to an unfair level as we trolley through. Rain, and now snow, has been following us and plaguing our pictures, but to be honest, what we are capturing is just as beautiful. While I’d certainly love to see something other than gray (and I wouldn’t mind WARM) there is a pull to this landscape. It seems lonely; it’s almost sad to see the matted world of color that is ready to shine through being forced to sit idly by and let the weather have all the fun. Even the big sky around the bend from the red plateau has a haze around it that stops the view.

So we needed a little laughter; something to brighten our day, since the sun has turned her back on us. Up and around the bend we go, only to be stopped by lounging cows in the road. Remember, I mentioned the law about hitting someone’s cow? This is how it happens. This is an open range through this whole freaking highway and the cattle could care less if you are inconvenienced. I swear, one was looking at us like DeNiro in Taxi Driver, almost taking a step forward as we dared to pass. I can honestly say that I’ve never seen anything like it before.

We crawled through the area, unwilling to shell out cash for an injury to a steer and got to the next leg of the highway up to Dead Indian Pass. This was one of the things that Terry told us to make sure we stopped to see. From this vantage point, you can see the complexity of the mountain highway as it twists and turns its way through the countryside. Rock formations and greenery are abundant as the tourists stop to click their one shot and move along. I, however, was not only able to spend some time freezing my ass off at the top of this mountain while it snowed, but was assaulted by a chipmunk that had no fear. Many a person must have given this little guy some grub as he was right in my face as I bent to take a picture. He was very cute.

On our way through the scenic views we found gorges (that were gorgeous) and streams, bright orange trees that framed the mountains and mystic mountains veiled in the thick white vapor. The end of the scenic highway approached and we did actually hit a small portion of the Bear Tooth, stopping to see the magnificent mountains we’d been chasing with an army of erect pine in front of it.

The day was getting on, and the light was fading, so my pictures were not as clear as I’d hoped, but we could tell we were up pretty high when we hiked back up about 100 feet and we were both huffing for air. It was really breath-taking; I mean literally! I was glad when Kathy made the comment about the thin air and not pointing out how incredibly out of shape I am.

More construction hit us in Cooke City where we had planned to stay. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a few hotels (with wifi!), a few saloons and amazing scenery, but not enough to keep us there. We decided to continue on through Yellowstone and on to Gardiner, MT.

The drive started as mostly forest (Gallatin on one side and Shoshone in the other state) and then we officially hit Yellowstone. We were looking for Yogi Bear, until Kathy reminded me that was Jellystone. We were told that ‘wildlife is plentiful’ in Yellowstone, but we were told the same thing in Glacier where we saw two birds and a squirrel, so we weren’t holding our breath. Not five minutes into the park, a Bison was standing peacefully on the side of the road eating the day’s fare. He was immense! We pulled over and starting snapping pictures of him. My camera doesn’t like when it gets dark, so mine all ended up blurry. I figured I’d get out of the car (standing on MY side so as not to disturb him) and I took a full scenery shot. That worked for the most part, but I’m sure Kathy will have some amazing shots. We were so excited.

Then we spied some deer trotting along, and the buck actually posed for Kathy. She took the picture, then he left! It was awesome – truly a model in the deer world. More bison grazing along the way stopped us again, and more deer. It just became second nature this time, especially when the herds and herds of Bison are in the distance. It’s beautiful to see them in a natural habitat, but there is a tameness about them as they have gotten used to people all this time. It’s like we’re not even there; they just go about their business and ignore us.

We hit an area called the Scorched Land where there was a fire back in the 80’s. It looks barren and dark. I still need to read the information on it, but the area just doesn’t seem to be recovering like the rest of the fires we’ve seen along the way. As an area catches fire, it burns our, renews and growth peeks out from the land. It’s beautiful to see how nature provides for itself, even when we interfere. But this area has little life, except for the three deer that walked out in front of us. Still, its an incredible site.

The car took us to our final destination through Mammoth Hot Springs where downtown was hoppin – with elk! They take over the town – literally! If you wanted to mail something at the post office, you’d have to make a strategic path through elk dung all the way. The bull elk was stunning; he had at least 18 points on his rack, and a herd of probably fifteen plus females. He bugled for his gals, telling them whatever he needed to with that eerie guttural tone and we decided to be on our way, not wanting to mess with him.

Passing through the Roosevelt Arch as we exited Yellowstone, we found a cheap little motel along the river and hunkered in for the evening.

A picture's worth a thousand dollars

Thu, 04 Oct 2007 15:51:32 GMT

Please, don't freak out. I know, two posts in 12 hours! Ahh! I gotta get the internet while the internet is good, so I toiled to get this up.

We're heading out the door to see if Bear Tooth Pass might have been plowed overnight and we can make the journey... i'll let you know later.

Hope you're all well!

:D
Caroline

DAY FOUR

October 3, 2007

We nuzzled in last night in the hotel room with our store-bought soup and our store-bought salad, but the microwave didn’t work, so no soup. Then we wanted some tea and the coffee maker didn’t work. I should have known that this did not bode well…

WARNING!!!! If you speak to either my brother or my father you must swear on (insert name here)’s grave that you will not tell them the following top-secret information. I mean it – really! I’ll hunt you down. (Also, there is some foul language near the end of this entry… be warned!)

So, Kathy and I have been pooling our money so we can share the expenses. It’s a fabulous idea and I was all for it. I went to my wallet and pulled out my cash for my contribution. We each brought $2000 with us so the evil that is the credit card industry wouldn’t get any more of our hard-earned money. Well, it appears that I’ve lost $1000. Well, actually, it’s more than appears; it’s actually gone. I’ve torn through all my stuff, including the undie section, and it’s gone. The last place I remember having it was on the bed of the cabin when I split it up into two sections so I wouldn’t lose it. Oh, the irony! I can remember counting out the bills and seeing the pile on the bed, but I do not remember actually putting it anywhere. I think I left it on the bed and the maid came that next morning and hit the jackpot. She’s probably on a trip to Hawaii as we speak. I called the cabin and asked them to look around. I got a voice mail this afternoon (when we finally got cell reception again) that started out as promising, especially when she said ‘I’ve got good news’ and continued to tell me that they didn’t find anything, so it must be in my luggage. Oh, she sounded so happy that I had the money with me, when, in fact, it was just the politically correct way of saying ‘even if we did have it, you’ll never see it again. Have a nice day!’ *&%^& But what can I do? Kathy says I’ve handled it pretty well, and there will probably come a time when I’ll just break down in hysterics that all the money I saved all summer long is just gone. In the meantime, I have to make lemonade from lemons, right? I’m out here, seeing the most incredible things in my life, so I guess the picture is worth $1000.

So, on with the show!

We left from Great Falls this morning and headed out on route 89. As we migrated further along the Montana highways, we truly got the meaning of their catch phrase “Big Sky.” The open road was vast and magnificent. You can literally stand in the middle of the road (but it’s not recommended) and turn a 360 and see every bit of the land and sky. The plains roll, the wheat sways against the breeze, the cows graze. Everything. I’ve never seen anything like this. And the mountains seemed to follow us where we went. Up a hill, turn to the left – there’s the mountain range. Down the valley and to the right – there they are again. It’s unclear at times whether this is the same range or another. The maps were not specific enough as we traveled to tell us all the places we were hitting. All I know is that the yellows of the leaves and blue-gray of the skies seemed to blend together like an oil painting. Drop in a few black specs for cows, and you’ve got Montana. I tried to catch a couple of the spots along the way, but in my haste to get the pictures uploaded, I think I deleted about four pictures.

The road kept changing and bringing new sights to life, breathing a glow into the amber trees with a sun we weren’t sure existed any longer. The accents of the fluffy clouds ambling across the azure sky gave the sun the perfect out to hide from us, but she was much kinder this day than the rest of our trip.

It seemed we stopped about ever ten minutes or so as we said “look at the colors” and promptly pulled over to take several shots and angles of the same thing (sorry about that – I’ll have to edit them down at a later date) hoping to find the perfect picture. And once a creek (pronounced ‘crick’ here) is part of the equation, forget it! It’s like the holy trinity if you have sun, water and mountain/trees. We’re like flies to honey.

The last of the mountains seemed behind us as we approached Lewis and Clark National Forest. We honestly had no idea what to expect – and didn’t even mark it on the map as a ‘site.’ Well, it was certainly a sight! The lush greens protruding from the ground on the rolling hills was awesome. Layer after layer of conifers up the hills, and along the bottom, dots of yellow here and there. They seemed to build the road next to the fast-paced streams just to taunt the tourists into stopping and taking pictures. There are pull-offs every time ‘someone’ thought there was a pretty place. (We stopped counting the pull-offs).

Outside the realm of the Aspen kingdom in the glaciers, the colors vary a tad more. We are granted some reds and oranges, along with the standard green and yellow. It’s a draw, once you see the new flecks of tint, whether you’ll make it out of the area without a pause. We were spellbound by the majesty of the trees and beauty, especially coming from Glacier.

How can you go from glaciers to plains to forest in a few hundred miles? It boggles the mind.

Both of us needed a break and decided the next ‘town’ we saw that we would stop. (I’d like to note here that towns in Montana really don’t exist along route 89. I’m sure that through the rest of this infinite state, there are plenty of places that have more than say, a house with a dog as a town, but 89 is a little scarce. And it’s usually about 30-45 miles between ‘towns’ so you have to plan your beverage allowance accordingly) That place happened to be Monarch, Montana – population 40 or so, according to the waitress.

This was actually a sweet little area out of a Norman Rockwell painting. We pulled into the Motel that had a little diner attached. As we turned off the car, we saw the one gas pump at the end of the drive. Probably the only one for miles and miles and miles, and it looked like something from 1975. The cute bar area was desolate except for the owner and the waitress. She told us to seat ourselves, which I said I would be happy to do as soon as I made a rest stop. Kathy beat me out and ordered me a diet Pepsi (another note – Montana ROCKS for soft drinks! We’ve had Pepsi at every restaurant we’ve hit! Woohoo!) and found us a view out the back way. The watering hole/town was at the base of one of the hills we’d been climbing through, and the rocky cliffs added a lovely background.

The waitress brought our drinks. One thing led to another and she’d mentioned that she’d just moved back to the area. Twenty years prior, she’d left to explore the states living from Tennessee to California. Nowhere felt like home, and that’s why she came back. She just uprooted her family and took them on the road with nowhere to stay and no job, just to get back to Montana. They camped along the river and finally ended up at this motel/restaurant. She said she was currently paying $100 a month to stay where she’s at, and her hopes were to move to the three bedroom house behind the restaurant for $400 a month. It’s such a different lifestyle and bless them for embracing it and loving it for what it is.

After lunch, we’d spied a fire truck and I had to have a picture of it. I mean, how many fires do they actually have? (knock on wood) The rest of the ‘town’ was little ticky tacky places and a Catholic church that holds mass on Saturdays at 5pm. It almost looks deserted in places, then you see a cute little log cabin nestled along the creek (remember, crick!) and you know there is civilization.

Our last stop before heading out was the scattered cemetery across the way. It’s built on the hill and I was sure I’d tumble right on down it. The earliest grave Kathy saw was birth in1805. The Nebel family had much tragedy as they’d lost several small children in the early 1900’s. Sad, but a true fact of that time. I also saw the Tolliver, English and Whitaker families that must have put roots down long ago in the area. It would be interesting to try and find any history on them.

Off again, stopping for more creek/forest pictures. You’re probably sick of seeing the repeats of the same things, but as Kathy says, when the sun is out, it brings a whole new light to the picture (or something like that) so I’ve tried many angles and settings to get it better. After our last run, I happened to look behind me where I saw the beautiful bluish mountains and the road leading from whence we came. We had to stop, and as we got back into the car, a gentle doe was standing on the side of the road. She glanced at us, and I tried to grab my camera. Bambi started moving (oh wait, Bambi was a boy, wasn’t she? Well, you get the picture) and I could actually hear the clip-clop of her on hoofs on the pavement and she glided to the forest. I tried to follow her into the woods and couldn’t get a clear shot with my camera. Then, at the last second, I found her and snapped the picture, knowing I’d been too late. I shuffled back to the car and hit review on the camera to find I’d shot her dead on in mid-hop as she disappeared into the forest. We were so excited, and we decided that was the rainbow for the day.

The journey continued, and we realized that we were never going to make the ‘schedule’ we had for Bryce canyon on the 6^th. After mulling over the map, we decided we’d hit Red Lodge, MT so we could get an early start on Bear Tooth Highway – supposedly the most scenic bylaw in the United States. It’s one of our side trips along the way.

No kidding, every ten to fifteen minutes, we’d see deer. They are everywhere and flit with ease over the fences to keep the cows and horses at bay (another side note: we learned that cows get out all the time. There are cow warning signs everywhere. The incredible fact about this is that if YOU hit the farmer’s cow (that he let go because of improper maintenance of his fence) YOU have to pay a fine of $2500 to the farmer! Now, being down a thousand already, this was not on my ‘to do’ list.) We tried to be careful and we knew we’d just make it to Red Lodge with enough daylight to give us a bolster. The fences are a joke to the deer who high-jump them like they’re pebbles in the road. Thank God, too, because if they couldn’t get over, there would be so many more accidents.

The GPS said we were about 8 miles from our destination outside of Red Lodge. Deer were everywhere and I had my hawk-eyes peeled. Brake, brake, turn the beamers up, brake. It was unending.

Then, I saw it.

At first, I thought it was a cow, and that I’d be done in, owing $3500 on this trip only four days in. But I was wrong.

“Holy shit! Kathy, it’s a bear! It’s a fucking bear!”

Kathy looked at me like a had grown a horn until we saw our black bear friend 20-30 feet away from us in the ditch.

“Where’s my camera. Holy shit! Where’s my camera. Stop the car!”

I obeyed and we both looked frantically for our cameras. I tried to maneuver myself out of her way as I tried to figure out where the hell mine was, feeling around like Helen Keller in the back seat. I was doing backbends in the car, twisting in ways I didn’t know to let her get the shot. I suppose we could have just gotten out of the car, but I didn’t make that suggestion as my mouth kept running off that there was a fucking bear in front of us! And… I really didn’t want to get eaten. If he would’ve got a sniff of the arsenal of food we had in the back seat, he would’ve tipped the car over and had a picnic.

“Back up! He’s going in the woods”

I finally found my camera and took my first shot. Black. Shit. I readjusted my options and got a little more. If you look at the two pictures I uploaded, you’ll see two glowing irises looking at you. I call it ‘Black Bear at Night; the companion piece to Polar Bear in a Snow Storm.’ It was beyond twilight and there was nothing there to capture. I hope that Kathy’s camera was able to get something. We’ll try and develop those tomorrow and I’ll make her get a disk of the images. If so, I’ll see if I can upload those.

The funniest thing was that this little old couple pulled along side us and asked if we were alright.

“We’re fine, thanks! There’s a bear!”

“Oh, we thought you’d hit a deer.” They rolled up their window and drove away. Apparently, this is no big deal to them.

Tourists!

So, we saw a bear; a real live bear! In the wild! I’d been joking the whole time about a bear coming to eat us and I told Kathy I’d be happy to see one if it was really far away. Everywhere we went, there were warning signs about ‘Bear Country’ and here we see one on the outskirts of town.

Well, this was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Well, it ranks up there – I’ve certainly seen a lot of cool things over the last few days, and Hawaii was nothing to scoff at. But for a day that started off in the shitter with losing a thousand dollars, ‘BBaN;CPtPBiaSS’ may just be worth it.

End of Glacier, beginning of 89

Thu, 04 Oct 2007 05:17:10 GMT

Sorry about this entry. I was pretty wiped out last night, but at least you've already seen the pictures for this. I posted today's pictures under 'Lewis and Clark' and hope to add my entry in the morning.

Thank you for your lovey comments, phone calls and emails. Kathy and I are thrilled to be able to share this with you and it makes us even happier that you are along for the ride!

:D
Caroline and Kathy

DAY THREE

October 2, 2007

Our time at the cabin must come to an end. The weather is just not breaking at Glacier, so we’ve decided to make our way to our next destination. We packed our small grocery store and started back out on Highway 2, down along the edge of Glacier since we cannot go through it. The stunning views are still there, looking a little different this morning because of the lack of sun. It’s disheartening really; we know the beauty is just buried, and while it’s still beyond gorgeous, it’s a little frustrating to be followed around by the rainclouds.

There was a pull-off along the way called Goat Lick Pass. Apparently, during said time of year, the mountain goats come out and lick the side of the mountain. It gives them some important nutrients, and it’s a spectacle to behold – just not today. The rock is gray and green and completely unexpected with a small river running through and foliage of various colors. The stop was lovely, and we were glad to make the quick side trip.

We chased around the clouds and tried to duck them at every pass. Honestly, they seemed to be following us around. We hit the base of the park and turned corner after corner of new scenery. Then we hit a row of all the snow-capped mountains along highway 2. It was amazing. The snow is thick and clings to the sides of the mountains. There are not as many trees here, and the terrain is completely different. It’s the same park, but a different angle and certainly more ‘in your face’ with the mountains. They weren’t hiding on this side, but those damn clouds still stayed around and taunted us.

A sign appeared and we were suddenly in Blackfeet country. The reservation stretches for miles and miles, but we were unsure where their exact boundaries were. We kept going along the highway and noticed it said Continental Divide. Now, we’re not sure if the mountain range is actually the divide, or if it was around there. I’ll have to do some research to see what, but the idea of it is really cool!

The little town of Two Medicines drew us in, and we stopped for a good, quick meal. We were both hoping for soup (since the wind was absolutely atrocious and nasty) to warm up but the waiter said “we have this turkey…well, no nevermind. It’s really just warm water.” So that was the end of that. The nice young man at the counter said we should take a ride into East Glacier and look at Two Medicines. I know that Kathy was frustrated with the lack of blue sky, but we decided to take a quick ride through the park.

It took almost no time at all for Kathy to almost break into tears. There, on the side of the road, was an astonishing view of the glaciers with the yellow aspens decorating the side. And among the divots of nature were horses grazing; no cares in the world. There were only a handful, maybe fifteen, but their existence in that spot was just remarkable. It’s what you think of when you think horse ranch in Montana. It was beautiful.

We continued along, wondering what could top that. Here the glaciers are more visible. I snapped picture after picture of the behemoths finding one view more amazing then the next. Twists and turns took us around every corner on our way to Two Medicines.

A pull-off stated there were ‘falls’ and we decided to stop and see what it was all about. Mind you, it was beyond windy and extremely cold. We were a bit afraid of a repeat performance of the day before, but figured we’d see what the falls were and if they were worth anything.

This was a short jaunt in through the light woods. The glaciers were towering over us in every direction, still shrouded in the mist. We could hear the water, but didn’t see it at first. There was a quick trip over our favorite rocks and up a slight incline.

Water is pushing its way out of the side of the mountain at a full force and racing downstream. Above it, the mountain protects the landscape, but today, it was mostly cloud covered. We got a few looks at it, but the sun refused to come out over Glacier. But it really didn’t matter; this was probably one of my favorite spots. I so love waterfalls and the scenery here was so gorgeous. While I’m sure the blue skies would have made the whole thing perfect, I was thrilled at having seen what we did. I think I took 50 pictures just in varying angles of that spot. These are postcards if I’ve ever seen them. Water, foliage and mountains all in symbiotic relationships. This is such a different view of the park.

We finally made it out of the park and decided to head to Browning to begin our ‘actual’ roadtrip along route 89. In order to do that, we had to snake our way in and out of the glaciers and foothills along beautiful highway 49. The road zigged and zagged, back and forth up and up through and over the mountain. The higher we climbed, the better the view. It was a complete overview of the area – the mountains and the plains. The blue of the sky made itself known, but not anywhere near the park. The mountains seemed to trap the low wisps, making fun of us because we so wanted that perfect shot of the Montana blue skies. Everywhere else was clear and calm. The road was a twisty trail up and over the area and simply the most beautiful road I’ve ever taken. It was too dangerous to stop off and take a picture, but I’ll remember that for the rest of my days.

The ascent down the mountainside came to an end as we finally saw ROUTE 89 at the stop sign that appeared. And what else would be there to start our journey but a lovely rainbow! It actually was right over the sign, but my camera didn’t really pick it up. We know it was there and it was a gateway to the true beginning of our roadtrip.

The rest of the way was mostly flat plains with cows and horses – and twice deer ran out in front of us. We watched the sun set over the mountains in the distance and continued through the waning sunlight to the city of Great Falls where we’re bunked in for the night.

And they're off - again.

Wed, 03 Oct 2007 07:24:27 GMT

DAY TWO

October 1, 2007

The cool mountain air drifted in through the windows this morning. Late last night, it started to rain; just a simple pitter patter on the roof. It was such a soothing sound intermixed with the distant cry of the trains that course through the mountains. They echo through the foothills and add a heaviness to the thick air.

We looked out our window this morning and watched the white clouds roll over the mountains. Definitely not a day for a hike, but no worries, we’ll find something to do.

Kathy grabbed the Montana book and headed out on the porch. I followed with my steaming cup of tea and just sat and watched the mountainside. I have my little $3 blanket wrapped around me because I’m always cold as I watch the breath hover in front of me. The high wind on the tops of the mountains is pushing the clouds away, but bringing their families right up behind them. No blue in sight this day.

I watch the yellow leaves on the aspen trees clinging to the white bark, fighting to hang on, but ultimately, with the added pressure from the drips of moisture, they fall helplessly to the ground. It’s so gentle and spontaneous as the next leaf falls victim to the cooler weather. It’s mesmerizing and beautiful.

We lounge about for a bit and finally hit the road. The guide at our hotel insists that Avalanche Creek is worth a look in West Glacier, and we can drive a bit of the way into the park (Going-to-the-sun Road is partially closed for maintenance) and even that stretch is worth the look. He also mentioned a quick hike to Avalanche Lake – only two miles in. We thanked him and went on our way.

Getting into the park was a breeze since we bought the National Parks Pass. It will get us everywhere we want to be – like American Express, only cheaper and well worth every penny. It didn’t take long for us to pull over at our first stop – the road was filled with beautiful aspen jetting out on each side of the road. Kathy wanted a picture, and I certainly will never say no to a photo op! While she played in the road, I meandered to a private area of Lake McDonald. The glaciers were hovering in the background, but the clouds were so thick, it was hard to see. Still, it was an amazing site. In addition, there were millions of polished rocks along the shore. At first, we thought that they were brought in as their beach stone, but we came to realize that these rocks are created out of the mountains and the waters. They are everywhere; the stuff that jewelry is made from. Gorgeous, smooth reds and greens of varying colors. We sat and gathered a few for our own collection and headed along the way.

We kept driving and stopping, eating beef jerky and triscuits along the way, to get out and snap the postcard picture. So much stunning scenery! Even without the blue sky and rain breaking through every so often, the road was breath-taking! It took forever to go just 15 or so miles because we were overcome by every turn. Color, color, color! The variance of yellows and the deep greens of the pines blended with the offset of indescribable blues, grays and browns. A reward of red is granted every once in a while to add the perfect natural rainbow of foliage. And the water is so clean and pure. Nature here is quite a thing to behold.

The road truly was closed (we hoped maybe they’d let US through) and we debated about turning around at the rest stop at Avalanche. We made a quick pit stop, and I really mean pit. The toilet does not flush; you simply do your business in this hole that drops about twenty feet down. Kathy and I joked about dropping your car keys down there, but I cannot imagine what you’d do.

Anyway…

The hike that the guide mentioned was right around the corner. Of course, it started to rain even harder than before. We hemmed and hawed about going, and I was certainly leaning towards ‘no,’ but we decided to give it a shot. Our Ford Taurus found an illegal spot to park (with our Arizona plates) and we thought we’d do the .2 mile walk to the little falls that were right there. We left our IDs, water and cameras in the car and headed out into the rain.

We reached the waterfall of pure, gushing water. It tore over the rocks with a vengeance, smoothing out hundreds or thousands of years of sediment as it made its way to wherever it was destined. The color of the rocks/boulders can only be described as kidney red, and frankly, it kind of creeped me out. Everywhere you turn, this colored rock is there – a heart, liver, kidney (you name the maroonish organ of your choice). We followed the little creek back a ways and found more of the fleeting water. Each step we took, we got farther from the car. We saw a sign that said 2 miles to Avalanche Lake. We figured we’d give a look through the forest, seeing what other wonders were inside. I never thought we’d actually go all the way to the lake – but we did.

The terrain was a good mix of up and down; branches and kidney stones along the path. Massive trees reaching for the sun; others overturned by nature’s forces. Some looked burnt; others were hollowed out. Many were assaulted by some kind of disease – some kind of spongy fungus that looks to eat the life from the tree. And no wildlife. No birds, one squirrel, and certainly no bears in bear country.

There were a few hikers out and we wondered if we should turn back. It was raining and we had nothing with us. But somehow, we decided to give it a try.

I have no idea how long it actually took us to get to our goal as we stopped along the way to look at the forest, the log jams, the gentle yellow aspens. We started to panic about the car the further we got, thinking we would get towed or broken into, but decided that if it’d happened, there was nothing we could do about it. We stopped two young girls and asked how far until we hit the lake and they assumed about a mile. We’d come that far, so we figured what the hell.

As we broke through the tree lining and protection from the rain (it’s truly amazing how few drops of water get down to the forest floor) we got closer to our destination. We’d seen bits of the glacier along the way; getting glimpses of the colossal peaks through the thick conifers. Placid waterfalls drizzled from thousands of feet up making their way down the mountain, finding purpose at the bottom. But then, we got the view we’d traveled all this way for.

The edge of the lake was within site as we spied our favorite pebbles along the shore. We climbed down the steps to the base of the lake and looked up. And up. The snow-capped mountains stretched beyond the clouds. This was our first true glimpse of the glaciers, as they’d been covered by the clouds along the way. And we were not disappointed. The trees and rocks painted the foothills with this unbelievable beauty as our eyes continued to glance upward. More waterfalls.

And the lake was astonishing.

It’s one of those moments where you can’t believe a color like that really exists, it’s so perfect. A deep emerald green emerged in the middle with a variance on that tone as it approaches the shores. The light breeze made calm waves on the lake, pushing the fallen aspen leaves that were floating along the edge to the shoreline. Even the wispy clouds that rushed up and over the mountains were beautiful. The perfect solitude – peace and harmony.

We stood there in shock, wet and cold, knowing that this was well worth the journey. And while I bitched the whole way about not having my camera, I’m so glad we were able to at least take in a site such as that.

It took us about an hour to hike back (because we’re seasoned experts now) and we quickly disrobed and threw our soaked jackets in the trunk. We were both starving and thirsty, now knowing the essentials for the next hike we take.

The road back through the park was dark and wet, nothing like when we arrived. The mountainside almost looked like a black and white painting – beautiful in itself, just different. I joked about the rain and how it would all clear up as soon as we left the park with a rainbow kicking our asses out at the gateway near West Glacier. Kathy, always the optimist, saw the sun playing a losing game of hide and seek with the thick cloud cover. ‘Throw me a bone,’ she said as she kept hoping the sun would come out and we’d get some decent pictures of Lake McDonald and the towering peaks and a bright blue sky in the background.

I pulled over because we were fascinated with the landscape of black and white and I wanted a few more pictures. We got out of the car and I yelled ‘holy shit!’ pointing behind us. There, bright as I’ve ever seen, was a rainbow! We raced for the car and before I knew it, Kathy was down the slope on the pebble beach taking pictures. I snapped a few over the highway and headed down after her.

Suddenly, the whole landscape had changed – just like that! Honestly, I’ve never seen weather just up and change so fast – even in Chicago! We got peaks of blue sky at one end, a double rainbow over the mountain at the other. I’ve never seen a rainbow so bright. We took about a hundred pictures of all angles as the sun continued its fight against the billows that threatened it all over again. Each second was a new picture as the landscape changed with the amount of sunlight. It was a miracle; a reward for our hard day’s journey through the rain and terrain of Avalanche creek (not that it wasn’t worth every second).

By then, we were starved and traveled up highway 2 to find somewhere to eat, finally settling on Walton – a huge train depot where thousands of train enthusiasts end up each year to watch the locomotives hustle through the area. It took a while to be seated as they had a rush of people they weren’t expecting. (No problem, we haven’t really eaten today). I have to keep reminding myself 1. this is Montana (I think I’ll have to ‘insert state here’ as we continue this trip), 2. I’m on vacation and I’m not in a hurry.

After way too long, we were finally seated and our waiter, who must have been 102, came to take our order – promptly forgetting it. He was tired – anyone could see that – and a little grumpy, so we had to cut him some slack, even when he kept giving the wrong order to each of us. The food was interesting - and I finally had my first taste of huckleberry - but not as interesting as the people.

Train enthusiasts are just like any other fanatic; they have their clicks, they have their idiosyncrasies and their oddities. I understand an obsessive nature well, having been through many phases in my life of craziness (stop the snickering!) but Kathy is confused by it. Understandable. The creepy thing is that some of the women we saw looked almost inbred. Listening to some of the conversations, there was a slowness there, and sunken facial features that made me wonder. I’m probably being too harsh, but it was weird, like axe murderer weird, and when you’re the youngest people there, that doesn’t help either.

We watched a few trains go by, and people just stopped what they were doing to see them pass. They love it and good for them; it’s just not for Kathy and me. But they did have high speed internet, so I was able to post yesterday’s entry. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be able to get this one up!

-o-o-o-o

Okay, this is a link to my kodak gallery. I was trying to find a way to do this through another site, but I haven't had time or internet. Let's see if this works:

http://www.kodakgallery.com/Slideshow.jsp?mode=fromshare&Uc=275918ux.5refcozd&Uy=uwv4m5&Ux=1

You may be able to get to the first first page and type in carocali as the album - I'm not sure. They are not labeled, but they are all Glacier. Hopefully some of my explanations will work.

Thanks again for all the great comments and emails!

:D
Caroline

A day behind, but hopefully worth it

Tue, 02 Oct 2007 02:51:26 GMT

Hi there~

Ww just found internet, so we're behind. This is the log from yesterday. Today we got soaked going through Glacier in the rain and found this beautiul lake. Didn't get pictures from that, but saw an incredible rainbow on our way out - our reward for the hard day's work.

Hopefully will send that up tomorrow, but wanted you to know how we got here.

Thanks for all the lovely well wishes and comments.

:D
Caroline and Kathy

September 30, 2007

The journey began WAY too early this morning as Kathy knocked my door around 5:30am – and I am not a morning person. Immediately, I knew that it would be a day for glasses as there was no way my contacts would ever tolerate the abuse from my sleep-deprived eyes.

We got the airport with a quick goodbye to Frank as the parking Nazi’s were hurrying us along. He was afraid that we wouldn’t make it through (might have said ‘how the hell are you going to carry all that stuff?’) as we had three bags to check (one filled specifically with shoes and books, and some powdered tea mix to boot) and three carry-ons. Luckily, all worked out and we maneuvered around the airports like the pros we are, after getting assaulted by this odd woman in a pink top who found it necessary to separate Kathy and me in line. Finally, we let her pass us so she’d go away.

Gate C25 quickly became C27 as our original plane had a mechanical issue. Normally, it wouldn’t be of any concern, except that we had a connecting flight through Denver, and only 1 ½ hours to do it. But someone was looking out for us as a new plane arrived at our gate. I asked the ‘assistant’ at the United gate how to get around the Denver airport to which she replied ‘I don’t like Denver. I try never to go west.’ Okay, thanks! A very sweet passenger overheard our conversation (and was probably pissed that her city was dissed – hey! I rhymed!) and told me how to get around.

They opened the doors about ½ hour later and we were still good for time. We scooted into our seats, unpacked our carry-ons, when who should sit next to us? Crazy pink shirt lady! How weird! She smiled and said hello and Kathy and I just rolled our eyes.

We made it to Denver in plenty of time for our connecting flight. We shared some nachos and waited for our puddle-jumper to arrive. I’m not exactly sure, but I think there were about 13 rows on this tiny plane that sat four across- total. We sat by some rowdies who wanted Kathy’s homemade cookies and were off Bear hunting. Yuck!

The flight was quiet as we watched Supernatural on my trusty computer and looked at the terrain below. The mountains were making themselves known, little by little, and the excitement of landing and seeing a real mountain up close was overwhelming to me.

As we got near Glacier, the ground below changed into this lush mix of greens and blues. They’ve had their first snowfall, so the tips of the mountains look like they were sprinkled with powdered sugar. It was breathtaking and I had to snap several shots from the airplane just for the sheer beauty. Lakes appeared out of nowhere; a river sprouted up along the way. And through the whole mountainside, there were speckles of yellow – the fall making itself known in these parts.

Touchdown let us out of the plane and down several steps to the grounds below. Apparently, there are no canopies? I’m not sure, but it was hilarious! We made our way through the airport, which was about the size of a large Illinois High School, and found our rental car. After a slight glitch with the feel of the car, we were on our way.

Rations were few in our luggage, so our first trip was to Target where we stocked up on toiletries, general supplies and enough food to choke a horse. Weight Watchers be damned, there was no stopping us once we got going! Our snack pile would probably feed China; and we loved every second of it!

We debated back and forth about whether to eat out or just go to our cabin for the night and utilize the kitchen area, finally deciding that a quick trip to the grocery store would do us good. More food! Our arsenal loaded, we headed to our first destination of the journey.

The road along the way was spectacular. Each turn granted a new gift from nature – whether it be another glance at the snow-capped mountains in the distance or the golden speckles of trees preparing for winter. Closer and closer, postcard after postcard. I was so excited. Then we saw a train sputtering along tracks that I hadn’t really realized were there. The light drew my attention and the horn sputtered as he got closer. It came to full view, and a whole four cars were attached to the engine. This was their freight train! It was amazing, and I’m so sorry I didn’t have the camera to catch it; such a simple thing and a necessity in these parts to get their supplies.

We wove in and out of the scenic highway seeing all the cute little shops along the way. One place makes the best Huckleberry shakes, so we need to go back there and find out what that’s all about. What’s a huckleberry? It’s a big thing here, so I have to know what they are. Other little odd places pop up along the way – almost like kiosks. Casinos are everywhere, but not your typical Harrah’s loud and obnoxious ones. It’s almost like an afterthought with most of these places. “Joes bar and grill – and casino!” We may need to explore that a little further to get a grasp of what they mean by ‘casino.’

Our GPS announced that we needed to turn into our destination and we pulled up to the Glacier Raft Company where we rented a cabin for two nights. The view is breath-taking as you head up a slight incline to see the mountains across the way. A silent lull of traffic eeks by, disturbing the perfectness of the setting, but that’s the only flaw. GFC closes at 4pm and we arrived around 6:30. He said he’d leave a note on the door for us, which we found at ease. Our cabin was #2 and the keys were on the counter. It’s just a different lifestyle up here. No one would question leaving the door open; that’s just the way it is.

A small pond is off to the left of our cabin and the stillness of the water is like a magnet to me. I had to grab my camera and start taking shots of the clear reflection of the yellowing trees and dying bark. It mirrors nature’s skyline beautifully. Oh yeah, and there’s these mountains in the background, too. It’s simply amazing – and we’re not even in the park yet!

We wandered around a bit outside until our ‘neighbors’ came around. It seemed we had the place all to ourselves, but no luck. We shuffled back inside and partook in our feast of roasted chicken and improv Greek salad, finishing it off with a homemade pumpkin pie we found at a roadside stand. Yum!

5:30 is catching up with us; in fact, I think Kathy is already asleep. I’m headed that way too, but I can’t wait to see the additional beauty of the park!

More tomorrow... I hope. Sorry for any typos. I'm still new at this.

:D

Another day closer - still testing

Fri, 28 Sep 2007 06:06:35 GMT

We're getting closer to getting ready to head out West! Kathy and I have been talking about this place in Zion Canyon called Angel's Landing. I found a picture of it online, so I'm posting it here. I put it in the gallery called 'How the West was Won' and I hope to have our own pictures of this spot... if I don't completely chicken out!