Where to start and how to explain for/to my own satisfaction
why I stopped blogging?
I’ll start with now. We are entering the last evening of our
stay at Hovenweep National Monument
in SE Utah. We had thought we wouldn’t get here this year because the cold
weather would discourage us, but a combination of serendipity, impulse, and
perfect weather got us up here. We arrived Wednesday night, October 7, and will
depart Monday morning, October 12.
Hovenweep is a small gem in the Park Service crown and one
of our favorites. From one perspective, there’s nothing much here. The ruins,
especially when compared to nearby Mesa Verde, are small and underwhelming, and
other than the ruins what Hovenweep has is desert. From our perspective, the ruins are intimate, and the lives of the
people who inhabited them some seven to eight hundred years ago is somehow much
easier to imagine ourselves into than the cliff dwellings. These are brick
towers, round or square or elongated, with sizes ranging from single rooms to
the Hovenweep Castle with its more sophisticated construction and multiple
rooms. The variety itself hints that the inhabits valued individualism. The
ruins as a collection show that they also valued the security, resources, and
warmth provided by community and shared purposes. And the location of the
ruins—a V-shaped canyon where water streams down all walls after a rain and
where most of the houses have spectacular views of the mountain that houses
Mesa Verde—reveals they recognized a good thing when they saw it.
The Little Ruins canyon where the main set of ruins is, is
just one of the several canyons that criss-cross Hovenweep. I can’t describe
the depth of the silence in these canyons. It is so quiet here, you hear the
wind rushing whistling through the feathers of the ravens as they swoop about,
and the calls of the coyotes at night are crisp and clear and seemingly right
outside our door. And the colors! A quick glance shows brown and green, brown
and green, but look a little closer and you see yellow blossoms and bright
white butterflies and vibrant red bushes and periwinkle-blue juniper berries.
The lizards that scurry everywhere reflect muted versions of all these colors;
we know because they pause when they see you as if in disbelief at your size, or
perhaps in denial that something so large can possibly be so there’s no need to run. (I need to remember to research
whether there are multiple species of lizard here or just one species that
changes color.)
The other significant, major, you-won’t-believe-your-eyes
attraction here is the night skies. Wow, wow, wow. Hovenweep is a Dark Sky
site, and it is a good one. Each night, the Milky Way stretches from horizon to
horizon, a great starry rainbow over our heads, and the familiar constellations
that are usually the only ones we can see at home are all but lost in the great
wash of stars above. It is absolutely breathtaking, and to our surprise the
evenings have been balmy enough that we can really enjoy it.
Anyway, as you can probably tell, we love it here. We have
been surprised by the crowds this weekend, though. We had an astonishing 30
groups of people here Saturday night. The campground was full, which is a very
rare occurrence here. They brought with them all the foibles of humanity, from
carelessness to noise to outright illegal behavior (e.g., dumping black water
into the fragile desert), but I’ve managed mostly to take this in stride. If I
could smile while neighbors repeatedly and off-key sang Rocky Mountain High
multiple times, you know I had my head in a pretty good place.
Small memories: A family from Colorado pulled in today with
their tent trailer. They have two boys, both of whom are running around in
their Broncos shirts, and one of whom never seems to be without his football.
At one point, they were playing catch in the road and one of them dropped the
ball. He said, “I still play better than Peyton Manning.” As Seahawks fans, we
found this rather entertaining.
We also met a couple from Durango who were
traveling with their cockapoo named Rocky. He is not named for Rocky Balboa nor
for Bulwinkle’s buddy but for Rocky Raccoon. And when I referred to U.S.
Highway 491 (formerly Highway 666, until too many superstitious people
complained and got the number changed, to the tune of about a million of your
tax dollars and mine in new signage) as the Devil’s Highway, they were
absolutely delighted by my cynicism. Kindred spirits!
Working backward, prior to Hoveweep we visited:
Petrified Forest
National Park, Arizona. Tuesday, October 6, and Wednesday, October 7. We
arrived between downpours at a commercial-but-free parking-lot campground just
outside the park after a rainy but gorgeous drive out of Phoenix, up through
the scenic Salt River Canyon—up and down and up and down and up and down. We
thought we’d lose the rain as we left the mountains, but no. It rained most of
the night and made us glad we were in a nice gravel parking lot! The morning,
though, was gorgeous, sunny and warming with those beautiful thunderheads all
around. Frank had been to the Petrified Forest before, but I hadn’t, or at
least not that I remember. It was extremely cool.
We did the two-mile Long Logs
hike, which takes you out to what must have been dense forest once upon a time.
There are many petrified logs, some measuring about 80 feet, and all very
beautiful. The cross-sections are works of art! Continuing through the park, we
also got to see marvelous geological formations of many varieties and in many
colors, petroglyphs at Newspaper Rock, a natural bridge formed by a petrified
log, sweeping views, and more. At the end of the road, where it joins
I-40/Route 66, is the famous Painted
Desert. Gorgeous! But I feel bad for people who see that and then get back on
the freeway, thinking they’ve visited the park.
After the park we headed east on I-40 and then north up the aforementioned
Highway to Hell. Small memory: During
this drive, we were passed by a semi that was emblazoned on all sides with the
message “JESUS CHRIST IS LORD (NOT A SWEAR WORD).” That driver is a person with
convictions, certainly. But if I had that kind of free advertising at my
disposal, I might have other issues to focus on.
We got groceries in Shiprock—it’s always an interesting and
somehow refreshing experience to be the only white people in the store—and then
headed to Hovenweep. We hadn’t planned
to head to Hovenweep, but we had a whim, and this trip is all about following
our whims.
Phoenix, Arizona. Sept.
30 to Oct. 6. We spent four days
with MJ at the Free to Be Unschooling Conference just north of town, visiting
with old friends, some of whom we were seeing in person for the first time, and
meeting some new friends, and dancing, and playing with kids, and swimming, and
listening to wise people, and watching people be nice to their children, which
never ever gets old.
The highlight, of course, was getting to see MJ for the
first time in three months, and watching her do her talk all about the science
and sense of being nice to kids. She’s a pretty cool person; we like her
(especially when she lets us stay in her hotel room).
After the conference, we spent a lovely night at the home of
our friends Wes, Laura, and Maya. They spoiled us rotten with great food and a
comfortable bed, plus they had a dog and guinea pigs for us to play with, and they provided us with an actual
television where we could actually watch the Seahawks win a game. Perfect!
Mt. Laguna,
California. Sept. 27 to Sept. 30. Mt. Laguna Recreation Area is part of the
Cleveland National Forest, just off the I-8 coming east out of San Diego. The
Laguna Campground there was our haven and downtime between social
opportunities. We were thrilled to get out of the humidity down in San Diego
(more on that in a bit) and extra thrilled to be in a place with such an
amazing view of the total lunar eclipse that happened while we were there. The
full moon rose red and dark over the ridge, and then slivered out ever
expanding light as it climbed its way through the trees and overhead. When the
moon first appeared, we could see the Milky Way clearly and the campground was
dark. By the time the eclipse ended and that huge bright moon was revealed,
only the brightest stars were visible and we could see each other’s faces
clearly. Pretty great, and far and away my best ever viewing of an astrological
event.
San Diego, CA. Sept.
14 to Sept. 27. San Diego is home to my dad and stepmom, my sister and her
family, and numerous step-relations and friends. While we were there, it was
also the vacation destination of Chloe and her best buddy, Casey. Social,
social, social, busy, busy, busy, and the full-on urban experience. We went out
to Old Town, out to the mall, out to the zoo, out to dinner, out for carne
asada burritos (!!!!), out for breakfast, out for frozen yogurt, out to the
beach, out for drinks (girls’ night!), out to swim in the pool, out to sit in
traffic (not on purpose), and more. Frank and I definitely experienced some culture shock after all our weeks in
the wilderness (OMG! Urban drivers are insane!),
but we had a great time.
I think my favorite times were girls’ night with
Chloe, Casey, and my sister, and walking the beach and floating the river at
the always entertaining and happy Dog Beach with my dad and his Airedales,
Molly and Abby.
For about half our family visit, Frank and I slept in the tent
trailer in my dad’s driveway, with a view out over the canyon on which his
house is set. Lovely! But, man, were the sheets damp with all the humidity!
The rest of the nights we slept in real beds in real houses.
Nice treat!
Our last few nights in San Diego, we splurged on a space at
the Chula Vista RV Park. It’s a pretty upscale place, right on San Diego Bay,
so we were the only tent trailer in there, a tiny little fish amongst all the
half-million-dollar Class A whales. We spent hours by the pool each day. It was
the only way to survive the heat and humidity, which was like nothing I’ve ever
experienced in San Diego before. I’m so glad we were there between heat waves! In the evenings, we walked out to the pier to
watch sunset and the rise of the growing moon.
Small memory: One morning at the RV park, we were awakened
at 6 a.m. by one of the whales running his diesel endlessly before finally
pulling out of his space. For some reason, he turned against the angle of the
space instead of, you know, just pulling out, and we watched amazed as he took
out a stationary garbage can and the end of the hedge that separated his space
from the one next to it. RV follies!
Big Bear, CA. Sept.
10 to Sept. 14. I have been hearing about Big Bear all my life. It is an
extremely popular retreat and vacation destination for the L.A. area, and this
is reflected in the movies. Sarah Connor’s mom is in Big Bear when the
Terminator finds her and kills her. Meg Ryan goes up to Big Bear to confront
her mom in Hanging Up.
For all this awareness of the area, I had apparently never
actually seen a picture of it. The lake itself was a total surprise. It’s huge
and surrounded by marshy, reedy, sandy beaches, with only one or two small
stretches that have woods right down to the shore, which is how I’ve always
pictured it. The other surprise was how urban the whole area is. The south
shore is all businesses and four-lane roads and marinas and stop lights. Big
Bear City and Big Bear Lake blur together at the edges with little to
distinguish one from the other. The north shore, where our campground was, is
more scenic, but it is solidly developed with condos, lovely private homes, and
destination RV parks.
The only really unpleasant surprise was how hard it is to
get a trailer up and down the mountain. Ohmigosh, those roads are steep. We
came in the back way from Barstow and climbed and climbed and climbed. Frank
had the gas pedal to the floor and at times could only do about 20 mph. And you can’t
really pull off to let people pass; it’s too steep and you’d never get going
again. We thought coming down the more traveled way into L.A. would be easier,
but it was SO stressful. I kept it in low gears the whole time and still
suffered (because I take these things to heart) several unpleasant and scary
whiffs of hot brakes.
So, I guess I didn’t love Big Bear. It was fine. I mean, we had cell service and
showers and easy access to services. But I’m not going “Oooh, I can’t wait to
go there again!”
Bryce Canyon National
Park, UT. Sept. 3 to Sept. 10. Bryce
I would visit again anytime. What a beautiful place! Unfortunately, Frank spent
most of our visit sick with some odd flu bug that couldn’t make up its mind
which part of his body to attack and kept traveling around and being
persistent. I left him behind at camp a couple times, and he dragged himself to
the car a couple times for auto touring, and we muddled through.
Fortunately,
the campground was a pretty nice place to be, not too hot during the day and
not too cold at night. There was a lot
of bird life, and the deer came through regularly. It was a very busy
campground with high turnaround, but we didn’t have any really rude neighbors
for once. (The worst offender was a guy who consistently ran his generator both
starting 15 minutes before and ending 15 minutes beyond the morning and evening
generator hours.)
The highlight of the visit for me was the longest hike I did,
the 4.5-mile traverse of the canyon. It starts and ends on the rim, so you go
down, down, down 1000 feet at one end, and then up, up, up 1000 feet at the
other end. Needless to say, I felt like a badass when I finished. The hike
itself was phenomenally gorgeous, with the wondrous dimensionality of the
orange hoodoos and spectacular territorial views of the plateau. Beautiful,
beautiful, beautiful.
We drove to Bryce after joining my mom in Vegas. We went
from the busy freeways of LV to the red canyon of Bryce all in one day,
swinging through Zion National Park along the way. Zion’s campground was full,
and it was much too hot there for us, but the drive up and out through the
tunnel is one of the major highlights of that park, so it feels like we did
Zion too.
My life as a travel
blogger. I haven’t written a blog post in a month! I always blog without
obligation, so my guilt over this is minimal, but I have found it kind of
puzzling. I enjoy blogging, and I really
enjoy having our memories recorded for future reference. But I just haven’t
been feeling it. Maybe now that I’ve gotten caught up a bit, and now that our
intensely social adventures are done (maybe I used up all my words talking to
people!), I’ll be able to slide back into it.
