Day 19, Grand Memories

 The final miles through Oregon were colorful, a reminder that Oregon does not take a back seat when it comes to natural beauty.  The pine forests West of La Grande rival those of Southern Oregon.  The Columbia River Gorge with it’s always spectacular Multnomah Falls match the beauty of Mt. Hood and Crater Lake.  It’s a grand country.

What a wonderful journey, planned with three objectives:

·         To visit my parents grave site in Safford, Arizona.

·         To meet up and travel the Southwest with brother Dick.

·         To visit a friend in prison

Mission Accomplished!

Additional objectives were added during the planning stages:

•          Visit the Grand Canyon
•          Connect with a number of people special in my life,

ü  Classmate Mary in La Jolla, California

ü  Cousin Janet in Tucson, Arizona

ü  Cousin Beth in the Mesa Verde, Colorado area

ü  Cousins Caroline and Jonathan in Boulder, Colorado

Miccions Accomplished!

It was an adventure that experienced many wonderful sights, sounds, smells and places.

Riding in the cold, cold mornings when all I wanted was a cup of coffee.  Riding in the hot, hot afternoons when all I wanted was a cold beer.  Riding most of the time in fantastic, shirtsleeve weather.

Learning more about our Native American culture at Montezuma’s Castle, Mesa Verde and Four Corners.

Being one with some of the beautiful  natural wonders, the Siskiyou’s, Giant Redwoods, the California coast, Arizona thunderstorms, sunset over the Grand Canyon, the giant Saguaro cactus of Arizona, Antelope Canyon, Monument Valley, Natural Bridges, Black Canyon of the Gunnison, the Royal Gorge, the Rocky Mountains,  the vast prairies of Colorado, Wyoming and Utah, and the beauty of Oregon, both going and coming.

And there were impressive man made things to appreciate,  the Cross in San Diego, Golden Gate bridge, NASA, the dam at Roosevelt Lake, Route 66, Glen Canyon Dam and bridge, Chapel of the Holy Cross, the bridge at Royal Gorge, and a Harley-Davidson motorcycle that performed flawlessly.

2000 miles of companionship with a great brother.  The imagination of Little Joe.

Nineteen days, 4800 miles, 92 gallons of gas averaging 50 MPG, fantastic for a big bike.

Many times during the trip this song came to mind, “This land is your land, this land is my land, from California, to the New York island.”  Here’s an original Woody Guthrie recording,

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XaI5IRuS2aE

It was another Grand Adventure!

Day 18, Triumph over Tragedy

One of the objectives of this trip, a very important one, was to visit a young friend in prison, there for a failure of our justice system, for a crime he did not commit.  Faced with a contrived charge by a vindictive and creative spouse, unable to hire a real attorney, he was forced to rely on a public defender.  That person did nothing to understand the case and urged him to plead no contest, expecting a minimal sentence, a first time situation.

Wrong.  In our wisdom, the voters of Oregon passed a measure years ago for Mandatory Minimum Sentence; to keep the evil people of the world off the streets.  The weight of this system hit this young very hard.  No, “first time” opportunity.  ELEVEN YEARS IN THE STATE PENITENTIARY!  He’s now down to eighteen months and counting the days.

Innocent until proven guilty, that’s what we teach the children.  I have experienced  two friends put through the Oregon justice system, the full weight of the government thrust upon them based just on accusations.  One was able to prove his innocence at great personal cost, the other was not.

This albatross will hand around his neck for the rest of his life.  A person serves time for a ‘crime’.  He has paid his debt and it should not be held against him forever.  Employers forget or choose to ignore this.  Every person who has ever had a parking or a speeding ticket should therefore also be outcast from society.  Isn't this discrimination?

That’s the tragedy.  The triumph is this.

He has not let the situation and the system destroy him.  He was studying to become an electrician.  He finished that training, tested and passed the exams to be a licensed electrician in prison, despite many hurdles put in front of him by the State of Oregon.  He works for the state as an electrician, building skills and helping, not sitting in a cell with a grudge against the world.

He was sentenced to a remote location in Oregon, making regular visits very difficult.  This visit was a highlight of my trip.   I am proud of his positive attitude, his desire to resume life.  I remain totally convinced of his innocence.  I would be proud to have him as my own son.

I would pass on a few words of wisdom to anyone who will listen:

 Be careful who you make mad at you.

• Be careful how you vote.  There are always vicious side effects to all well intentioned measures.
• Consider the ex-convict as a person who has paid his dues.  Give him a chance.

Day 17, 450 miles to Boise

Plan was to stop in Twin Falls, 350 miles.  But 2:00 arrived, the bike and Joe and I weren't ready to qut, so on to Boise, 450 miles.  That's a pretty fur piece in one day says Joe.  I was tired, so there we stopped.  Had a little medical surprise as I was unloading, a very swollen right elbow.  A nearby pharmacist said it looked kind of infected and directed me to a family/urgent care clinic a few miles down the street.  Not the kind of way to end a day, wandering around in a strange city with the GPS cutting in and out.  But we found the doc (Joe stayed on the bike, he can be squeamish) and diagnosis, after a ton of paperwork, classic case of bursitis of the elbow.  With the prognosis that I would live, a pie and ice cream dinner at Denny's across from the motel seemed in order.

Cliff faces in Weber Canyon, UT

About the ride - this is a VAST country.  Traversing three states today, Wyoming, Utah and Idaho revealed wide open spaces and big blue skies all around.  Wyoming has the endless prairies.  Entering Utah finds mountains to the East of Ogden and Salt Lake, magnivicant rugged mountains, small by Rockies standards but beautiful.  After all, Utah has world famous ski areas, Park City, Alta, Brighton, Snow Bird, to name a few.  North out of Ogden you run through high desert, sage brush.  Sweeping into Idaho finds green fields, irrigated where no water appears to exist.  Then eastward Idaho becomes very featureless desert.  The Snake River makes its appearance a number of times as Boise approaches.

The ride started with every layer of clothing I brought, six layers.  Long underwear, T-shirt, heavy shirt, fleece sweatshirt, leather jacket and vinyl wind breaker.  With heated gloves it was just right for a 6am high desert ride.  By noon, in Ogden, all the layers came off and it was T-shirt the rest of the day.  What a range of temperature and dress.

Idaho farm land

Dick and I said goodbye this morning.  He's headed South, back to San Antonio, me farther West.  It was a wonderful eleven days together in which we covered just shy of 2000 happy and safe miles.  We saw many of nature’s wonders of the Southwest together, met cousins, and just had a great time.  He’s a good traveling companion.  I hope we can do it again.

Day 16, Wyoming

Julie, Danny Jonathan, Caroline, Bob, Dick

Yesterday’s blog was posted before the best event of the day, dinner with cousins Jonathan and Caroline.  The Walnut Brew Pub was a perfect place to spend a few hours catching up on old and new times.  New stuff, fascinating – Jonathan, wife Julie and son Danny (son James away in college) have participated for years with the Rocky Mountain Revels, a nation wide group dedicated to celebrating the shortest day of the year (Dec 22ish) in some country theme.  Google it if you’re interested.

Caroline is a vet, with hew own business, the Traveling Vet, a mobile service that has served her very well in the area North of Denver for many years, a specialty she recognized as a need early in her practice.  On the spectacular side, she is the lead Vet in the Alaska Iditarod dog sled race.  And has managed to capture positions in equivalent races in Russia and South Africa of all places.  Incredible, and she does it intermixing with her vet business to keep her local customers happy.

In our childhood lives, we talked of things we remember as children together.  Those times were few and fleeting, and faint of memory.  It’s so nice to be reconnected again

In a big, empty land, still it's someone's home

The drive, was much better than yesterday!! Both cousins said there was some snow on Trail Ridge.  We’d already decided it was too cold at altitude to cross the Rockies, so we had decided on a detour North, around the great mountains.  Morning departure was cool, but partly sunny, growing to totally sunny as the day progressed.  Screaming up the freeway out of Boulder, a blue and a silver projectile, shoulder to shoulder with fanatic iron cages rushing to offices and places unknown, was a vigorous way to start the day.

  The rest of the day was a grinding drive across Wyoming.  I’ll call it a bonus as Wyoming was not on the original plan.  Despite it’s solitary lonesomeness, it’s a vast and beautiful land in it’s own right.  Three hundred plus miles today, all sunshine like it should be, ended in Rock Springs, WY.  We both love the feel of he bikes, the smells and the sensations, but it feels so good when the wheels stop turning at the end of a day.

Two coyotes walked into a bar...

It was a day of greatness in this great land, reminiscent of six years ago, cruising through Iowa.  On that trip, touched by the drive through the heartland, Little Joe and I sang “God Bless America” until our voices gave out.  Today, the same patriotic feeling engulfed us, scanning the prairies of this great land.  We sang one of Joe’s favorites, “Bury me not on the lone prairie”.  I love it too, and I think I’ll commit it to a violin lesson when I resume in October.  Joe’s such a card.  He got to telling ‘coyote’ jokes and, well, we don’t have time or space here.

Two

Oh bury me not, on the lone prairie, where the ..

3800 miles to date. Tomorrow, on to Utah.  Dick’s still with me.  He decided at Boulder to continue to Ogden to visit a classmate he hasn’t seen since the ancient 60’s.  Then he’ll turn south and east for San Antonio.  He made me feel good today.  Contemplating a trip of this magnitude, especially a couple of years ago with serious health issues, was inconceivable.  When it finally became achievable early this year, it was not without intrepidation that Dick committed to go.  I remember the same feeling six years, ago, first long haul trip on a motorcycle.  What if…. Etc.  We stood on the prairies of Wyoming today and he commented “I can’t believe we’re here” and “It’s so great to be beyond the fear and concern, to be able to do such things.”  Makes my heart happy.

Day 15, Boulder

Dawn arrived in Canon City, on first look the sky was clear.  How easy to mistake that uniform-ness of an overcast rain sky for a nice day.  Little Joe asked to sleep out under the stars.  He gets what he wants.  It rained all night.  Ever smell a wet monkey?  I toweled him down as I  pondered the current situation.  It's raining.  That kind of Oregon not pouring, not drizzle, but - - - rain.  Shouldn't deter an Oregon boy.  But after a week of desert driving, it was, well, a change.  For two days they were saying, all over Colorado, it's a drought year.  Yeah, thanks, have some rain.

On the list today was a trip to Bishop's Castle.  It was eighty miles out of the way, just fine on a normal day, not so fine in an open air rain catcher chariot.  So we forgo it.  I've been there twice before, a stunning tribute to what one man and a couple of sons, and forty years of determination can do.  The structure towers 160 feet above the terrain, and is a masterpiece work of stone and iron, not quite at the level of Neuschwanstein, which I have had the privilege to visit, but a darn good runner up.  Jim Bishop is a crusty and very direct guy, I've talked with him while he was mixing mortar in a wheelbarrow.  But he had this vision decades ago and has never let go of it.  He's building a castle, despite government agencies attempts over the past decades to put him out of business.  I do admire spirit, imagination and determination.  This castle of stone and iron sports an enormous ballroom, stained glass befitting a castle, parapets, winding stone staircases, you name it.  The dragon, when Jim puts on a show, blows flame from a hot air balloon burner, to light the night sky.  The massive fireplace in the ballroom is vented through the dragon's nostrils, so smoke coming from a dragon ready to make a statement, is quite often evident.

Want to hear about the freeway ride to Boulder?  Well, this is a document to help me remember this trip, so you can skip over it, but....

the trip from Canon City was two and a half hours of white knuckle (my violin teacher's words came to mind every five minutes - relax, relax, relax - you have no arms.  Sixty miles an hour in three lanes of high speed interstate traffic, with rain in your face, glasses wanting to steam up (excitement, not fear) is not for the faint of heart.  There should be a merit badge for old guys with a suicidal impulse.  Add to the rain on glasses visibility restriction, mist swirled up by all the cars, exaggerated very four minutes by a passing semi and you have - tension.  But, as the violin teacher admonishes, relax, you must do that, and I did, every five minutes,  and one basically lives for the next moment.  The sign says 48 miles to Denver.  48 minutes.  Relax, concentrate on the white lines and the specter of a car in front of you.  Another five minutes have passed.  It is possible we might survive this part of the journey.  And every couple of minutes I glance in the mirrors, and Dick is rock solid, three lights, never wavering in position fifty feet behind me.  Way to go, Dick.

Fortunately the rain cleared just as we entered the Denver freeway system.  Having memorized the route, not wanting to trust the GPS, being able to read it, or the occasional poor electrical connection, the exits fell into place like dominoes.  We did arrive as planned at a pre-programmed motel.  Wet, very wet, cold, very cold,  happy, very happy.  High speed freeway driving in busy traffic in the rain has finally been checked off my bucket list.

Tomorrow we'll skip the near freezing forecast over Rocky Mountain National Park at Trail Ridge and take a sunny ride up through Cheyenne and Laramie on the way to Ogden.  There will be more blog posts, although not as exciting and colorful as what has transpired so far.  On the other hand, who knows.

Thanks to you who have followed along to date, and commented.  There's a warm feeling about getting a 'letter from home' and I'll be more diligent now about commenting on other friends travels.  I've reached the Northeast corner of the box of this trip.  From here on every mile is closer to home.  It's been a wonderful trip, not finished yet.

Day 15, Traverse the Rockies Eastward

Departures tend to wait until daylight.  This one found two bikes headed North about a half hour before dawn.  Temperature, not bad.  The motel room was warm, the cool air felt good.  For good measure, a fleece sweatshirt layer went on under the big leather jacket however.  That comfortable, cool feeling disappeared about seven minutes north of town.  Leaving Durango, you ascend quite rapidly into the higher elevations.  Curiousl the train to Silverton is spared at least 500 feet of extra elevation that motors must experience.  Half way up the mountain side, about ½ hour, demanded a roadside stop to don all available layers, in other words, chaps and heated gloves.  Barely enough and the long underwear, well to put that on requires disrobing, right?  Not.

Descending into Silverton was good, lower elevations, although only slightyly.  But it was a gas and hot coffee stop.  Ominous clouds are looming overhead, menacing, threatening bedlam to motorcyclists.  I’ll have to tell you that a stop at a mountain gas station looking for good news and solace from the locals, is not rewarding.  “Oh, today’s actually pretty warm.  When when we got married …”.  And forecasts of mild doom but only when you’re crossing the passes, left me wondering why I had left the desert.  And then Jake tells us, oh, by the way, I meant to tell you, they’re closing the highway North to extract a semi that went over the edge.  S*#t, I don’t need to hear that and imagine heading back the way we came to find an alternate route.  So we gassed up quickly and roared out of town a short distance behind the road drew.  Not to worry (although I like to) but the wreck was two miles out of town and the small crew assembled was pondering the situation and no equipment was on site.  Sometimes things work out.

The threatening clouds only grew darker, more menacing, spitting occasional huge drops of water.  I wanted to believe it was clear to the North where we were headed, but was having serious thoughts about abandoning the Eastward journey over the mountains to Denver and heading straight for Ogden.    Descending through Ouray was a brief respite from worry, remembering that my Grandmother used to live here.  She was a school teacher and had to retire at around 70, mandatory, in Boulder.  So she moved out of town, where no one knew here, Ouray, changed her age, and taught another 15 years or so.  What a lady!  Her daughter, my Aunt Mary, was equally formidable at working and loving it until they died.

We donned rain gear leaving Ouray and did get it wet, although marginally.  And there’s nothing like sun and a seventy degree day in Montrose to make like seem all well and good again.  So Eastward to Canon City, the stopping place for the night.  On the way was a detour to Black Canyon National Park.  I’ve been getting great miles out of my Golden Age passport.  One small advantage to being old enough to have one.  It’s spectacular as a canyon.

 Where the Grand Canyon is horizontal layers of sandstone, etc, Black Canyon (of the Gunnison) is vertical.  Looks like someone stuck cliffs of vertical rock striations in the bround 1000 feet tall.

Onward then with not much to see but speed signs unti almost to Canon City.  Royal Gorge is just off the path and I was told I had to see it.  Unfortunately it wasn’t a highlight for either of us.  It’s a bridge, impressive for sure.  The canyon it spans is very deep, very colorful, and very impressive.  The overhead zip line and tram cables more than hint at experiences you might not want to experience.  The downer was a $26 admission fee to see aned walk on the bridge.  And the village they promote, with all the ‘things to do’ and a ‘place to spend the whole day’ had $25 price tags on most everything.    We went, we had come this far.  You decide when it’s your turn.
Arrival in Canon City found 85 degrees, a bit of a change from the 6am version and two quite weary travelers.  But that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Tomorrow, Boulder and reunion with the two cousins Caroline and Jonathan (already saw Janet and Beth).

Day 13 Durango-Silverton Railroad

A train ride through the Rockies, what cold be moreappropriate.  Trains helped explore and open this country, the practical means of long distance transportation.  The Durange-Silverton Railroad has been running for a long time.  Looks like around 1881 the Denver and Rio Grande built the route to carry supplies and people to the gold and silver mines.  It wasn’t until around 1981 that it became dedicated to the tourism business, but it’s a line that’s been in use for 131 years.

The ride was fun.  The steamers are glorious.  What else can you say!  You have ample opportunity to smell the coal smoke and find a light dusting of soot on things that sit untouched for a while, like your jeans if you sit still.  And it's not a power fine and dirty soot, but tiny burned embers of coal, gritty, and they brush off.  It's a wonderful part of the experience.  It's life in the 1880's.   The first train left at 8:30 and arrived Silverton at noon.  Along the way you’re treated, or should I say threatened, with spectacular views of deep canyons.  I wondered often how a multi-ton train could rumble across some of those cliffside notches, shored up with rocks and left over rails.  Seems to work.  The river lies first on one side, then the other.  Ample changes of terrain and curves gives everyone the opportunity to photograph the train in action.  How many millions of photos of these trains from behind the firebox must exist.

A two-hour layover was more than enough time to have lunch and explore the town of Silverton.  Once probably a very bustling silver mining town, one would assume by it’s name but history bears it out, it’s a charming place today.  Not overly gaudy with tourist stuff.  Clearly there’s some secret to the “best” places to eat in town.  We picked one, totally enjoyed the food and atmosphere, but realized it was not vey full of people.  Down the street on a little tour, it was standing room only.  Are their hamburgers really that much better?.  Arrival back in Durange at 6:00 found us tired and ready to sit down, despite the fact that we’d been doing that for about eight hours.

The Aspen are turning.  The higher in elevation we climbed, the more apparent that became.  It’s cool.  It doesn’t smell like fall, but the calendar says it is.  I have this feeling that tomorrow will be a cool ride through the Rockies.  We’re headed over the mountains into the Denver valley, if that’s what they call it.  Should be in Boulder in two days.  Can’t believe the time has moved along as it has.  Two more days travel means reaching the Northeastcorner of my travel box.  From there, it’s West to Portland.  But, that’s later.
x

Day 12, Mesa Verde National Park

A cool lazy morning’s start since we made Cortez yesterday and only Mesa Verde was on the list today.  It's a short nine miles from town to the park entrance.  The drive up onto the mesa is long and twisty, with fifteen mph turns in a number of places.  An excellent road, but you climb and climb and climb.  I would guess 2000 feet elevation gain.

A number of guided and self guided tours are available.  Self guided does not allow you to the structures, so a ranger tour is a must.  Three choices, Cliff Palace, Balcony House and Spruce Tree House.  For a whopping three dollars, you’re on a guided tour.  Best deal in town.  We chose Cliff Palace for two reasons, it’s the National Geographic classic image of Mesa Verde, and it’s morderately strenuous, but avoids the 35-foot ladder and crawling a long narrow passage.  The traveler with all day to spend would be well advised to take all the tours.  On the other hand, when you’ve seen one cliff dwelling, they do tend to look alike. You decide.


You learn a lot about the ancient peoples that live there.  You can learn a lot more from the internet than these mere words can communicate.  Many unanswered questions still remain.  Why did they leave?  When?  Where did they go?  Why did they not come back?

The nicest explanation I heard was from Ranger Kim.  The people believed they emerged from the third world beneath the Earth, to the fourth world, this one, seeking the ideal place to live.  Speculation is that through weather changes, about twenty years duration, the crops had been failing.  It was clear they had to move on, to find more fertile land.  That meant that they had not found the ideal gathering place yet, otherwise the crops would not have failed.  Descendents today say that search for the ideal place is still going on.  Sounds good to me.


For my woodworking friends reading along, the Kiva rooms had roofs made of timbers.  Interesting construction.  They have six masonry posts around the inside perimeter of these round rooms.  A beam is placed on each adjacent post, forming a hexagon against the walls.  Layer one.  Then a next layer of beams is stacked on the first layer, joints offset,and shifted slightly to the middle.  Ultimately a massive, conical timber roof is constructed.  I missed what keeps the rain from dribbling through.  Juniper poles form the ceilings of multi-level structures.  This wood is very rot and insect resistant and lasts for centuries.

The hour spent on this tour was so pleasant.  Listen to the guide, but imagine the voices and laughter and activity in this enormous place.  At it’s peak, the area is believed to have been home to around 40,000 people.

Tonight we’re in Durango.  Tomorrow, a train ride.

Day 10 Monument Valley & Cortez

Tranquility, that’s the best was to describe today.  On the cruise from Kayenta north, passing through Monument Valley, something caused reflection on the days and the journey.  It’s peaceful despite the wind noise.  The engine in a quiet purr somewhere behind.  And one can just feel the solitude, especially amoung these ancient monuments.  No movement, no sound, just quiet and it’s magnified when we stop along side the highway to listen.

Monument Valley covers a shorter span of distance than I remember.  In my youth and in my mind, it went on for miles, the last time here probably over 40 years ago.  The beauty remains constant.  The whole region of this Northern Arizona, Southern Utah is extraordinarily colorful.  Even the miles of open land are unusually green for this time of year.  A few miles of sage brush, the stuff that makes tumbleweeds, suddenly becomes broken terrain and chasms cut into the desert floor by thunderstorms.  Much of this land is invisible unless you slow down and observe it more closely.

A stop for gas in Mexican Hat gave a choice, a little county road twenty mile shortcut north to Natural Bridges National Monument, or follow the highway to the same destination about eighty miles.  The young lady at the gas station said, oh, it’s a great road but for three miles of gravel.  It took some mutual convincing to agree that we could handle three miles of gravel.  How bad could it be?  That three miles turned out to be breathtakingly, awsomely, out of this world inspiring – a gravel road.  How can this be?  Well....

About 10 miles into the shortcut, we see this massive wall of red stone approaching.  Easily 1000 feet tall, beautifully striated in brilliant crimson and lavenders in the morning sun, stretching from horizon to horizon, left to right.  I study this with a slightly worried feeling, looking for that little valley that surely must wind through this parapet.  None appears.  As we near this monstorous face a highway sign, yellow warning, in very large letters, tells of “unimproved road for the next three miles.  Anything towing anything is highly advised not to go further.  5mph switchbacks”.  They packed a lot of words, and a lot of meaning on that sigh.  We’re this far, and not towing anything.

The paved road, a simple two lane country road, runs straight into the cliff, makes a ninety degree turn requiring less than 5mph to navigate, and turns to dirt, and starts UP, a 10 ½ degree grade.  Holy Mackeral  But it’s smooth pack, only a little soft in spots, plenty wide for a car and a motorcycle to pass.  And it climbs, winds, climbs, switches back, climbs, twists, and climbs.  We stop half way up, less than two minutes into the ascent.  Breathtaking to say the least.  The valley floor stretches out for miles.  The road we just traversed is visible, every inch of it, tucked beneath us like a zig-zag rule against the face of the cliff.  I’m so glad we took the challenge.  A short few minutes later we’re on the top and it’s wide open praries and cool air again.  What an incredible treat.  Sadly, very little opportunity for photos – one turnout.  Highway 261.

Onward to Natural Bridges National Monument.  As I mentioned earlier, driving across this land often reveals nothing.  Flat terrain where nothing could exist.  But this place is stunning, below ground.  The land eroded away, left in three durable places, bridges of stone, huge bridges.  The nine mile loop around the park was liesurely and fun, affording great views and hikes to the bridges.

A gas stop in Blanding, an intended nights stay but too early to stop, brought us through Four Corners, the common meeting point of Arizona, Utah, Colorado and New Mexico.  Hmmm, I thought it was some kind of Federal land, a national monument or some such.  It belongs to the Navajo Nation.  And what a transformation for me.  I stopped there for gas in 1964, fresh out of college and headed for Scottsdale, Az.  No gas, no nothing but a concrete slab with a survey marker.  About 1970 Nancy and I visited it.  on the way home from our honeymoon I believe, and by then the Natives had erected cheap wooded sales booths and were selling their wares.  Here in 2012, it’s had a major face lift, two years ago according to a Navajo fellow I talked with.  Permanent sales booths in concrete and stone, a village of sorts, very well done, a landscaped arena that you see in the photo.  A small three dollar parking fee.  Worth the stop but you have to watch for the unobtrusive wooden sign on the highway, not a government style marker.

Cortez, a bustling town with lots of gas, food and lodging.  Mission accomplished number four, I called cousin Beth living in nearby Mancos and she drove over for dinner.  First time together in about 50 years.  We had a grand time over a great Chinese dinner learning about archeology, sheep and lots of things.    Saying goodbye for now was a new opportunity to stay in touch with our great internet tools.

I've been remiss to mention that traveling with brother Dick has been a joy.  We share common values about speed, safety, easy living, food and lodging.  We talk, enjoy each other's company, and know how to enjoy nature together in silence.  Thanks for the journey, Dick.

Tomorrow, Mesa Verde.

Day 10, Page and Antelope Canyon

Morning took us along the South Rim (scroll down for yesterday's introduction to the Grand Canyon) headed to the East entrance.  With a  dawn departure, we reached a new vista about the time the sun was making it’s imprint on the canyon.  Morning colors, so different from evening colors.  Again, magic, timeless, mystical.

Page was a required stop for two reasons, to see the new bridge at Glen Canyon Dam and to visit Antelope Canyon.  The bridge is wonderful.  But somehow, despite the engineering accomplishments of its makers, it left me a little disappointed.  I think I was confusing it with the bridge at Hoover Dam.  But it was spectacular non-the-less.  The dam is as I remember it from days of youth.  Older, like me, but grand and functional, the dam, that is.

A little East of town the Navajo people take you on a jeep ride to Antelop Canyon, a slot canyon as it is called. Thanks very much to friend Lloyd for mentioning it at the last minute before my departure.  Truly a must see if you’re in Page.  The land belongs to the Navajo, so admittance is only through their graces.  A forty dollar fee, it was worth every penny.  We joined 13 other people on the back of a ¾ ton truck, with ample shade and large sand capable tires.  It’s a 20 minute drive to the slot canyon over a wide and sandy wash that does require 4wd with desert tires to traverse.

The tour lasts an hour, slowly walking through this canyon, shoulder’s touching walls in places.  Despite the crowds in this very popular place, the beauty was overwhelming.  The Navajo guides, each the driver of your truck, did expert jobs of containing people in small groups so the photo opportujnities were ample.  After a while you think, how many more rock walls do I need to photograph.  And sadly I’ll admit that reviewing the results in a hotel room tonight, I could have used more photos.  It takes a hundred photos, as many of you kknow, to get a really spectacular one or two.  But I‘m happy with the results, and more so with the memory.

Tomorrow we traverse Monument Valley, and a number of the Southwest’s wonders.

Day 9, Grand Canyon

No greater place on Earth, the Grand Canyon, at least in my humble opinion.  It's one of the few natural wonders of the world you can see from space.  The museum tells us it's very old material shaped in very modern times.  Formed initially but the collision of continental plates, layers were then added by the seas that invaded the area for millions of years. Layers of sediment in many different forms were deposited, reflecting teh vegetation and animals life of the time.  And the carving occurred through major floods, oceans of water cascading out of the land over the milenium.  And the Colorado River today continues to put finishing touches on the landscape.  One can easily image snow sitting on all the sloping surfaces of the upper canyon walls, melting and causing millions of tiny rivulets, each carrying a few grains of sand towards the canyon bottom, to be carried further away by the river.

It’s the most fascinating place.  Many of you have seen it.  You know that the lighting is different every day, and every mnute of each day.  And each configure of light, of sun and shadow and clouds, causes, each in turn, a unique view of the grand wonder.

We sat for an hour on the rim, just absorbing the grandeur in silence.  After Labor Day crowds week minimal.  At a few viewpoints I felt that this was my own park.  We had the wonderful opportunity after dinner to sit on the rim near Grand Canyon Village with a few dozen admirers of the canyon, watching the sun go down.  This time the Canyon did not flood with light. There was more activity in the clouds nearby, but it was still a special evening, sunset on the Grand Canyon.

A treat of Elk on the roadsides and later in the evening, walking on the terrace in front of our cottage.  It was a special day and I shall treasure it long after this trip is over.

And we end this chapter with a couple of human interest shots.

Day 8, Flagstaff

What a fantastic day, cool leaving Payson, just perfect with the leather jacket.  Northward through the cute little town of Pine, and millions of Pine trees that I was missing on arrival yesterday.  We swung West, bent on Sedona.  Hitting the freeway from Phoenix to Flag, here’s Montezuma’s Castle National Monument.  It wasn’t on my list, so we hit a bonus.  A tour of the museum and the quarter mile walk past the structure was SO worth the time.  A reintroduction to the native Americans as we journey deeper into their country.   They were Navajo, but the early explorers thought everyone out west were Aztecs, so they named this place inappropriately.  The Zuni, Hopi and many tribes visited the area,  .  Astounding structure and even more amazing some of the technical aspects.

The drive across from Pine was done on a 65 speed limit county road where we never topped 50, sometimes 40.  What a fantastic piece of country, especially on a motorcycle.  The smell of pine in the air, the clear air and uncluttered countryside.  And old billboard sign, still in great shape, Smokey the Bear, reminded me of my own childhood, growing up for many summers as a Ranger's kid on Isle Royale National Park.  Sweeping down off the mesa from the tall pines brought up Prickly Pear and many desert plants again, consistent with the elevation.  Little villages like Camp Verde, clinging to existence in this vast and sometimes harsh, but always beautiful land.

Heading on North off the freeway brings one to the Red Rock Country.  We must have stopped at every viewpoint, the totally overwhelming panorama of nature’s carvings in sandstone, spread for miles across the landscape.  The panorama's are enormous.  A camera can't begin to do this country justice.  You have to see it on the back of a motorcycle

Approaching civilization brought us to the Chapel of the Holy Cross.  A stunning architecture with a commanding view of the valley from up on the hillside.  On the way up, you could not help notice this Spanish architecture building, opulent in every way behind secure walls that did afford a view.  A local lady at the chapel said that belonged to the doctor who invented lasik surgery.  Hmmm, does he get royalties on all those procedures?  The view from the church, considering the location in Sedona, had to place that in a $10 million range.

The scenery around Sedona is stunning, spectacular, and breathtaking.  The fact that it all obviously belongs to wealthy people gave us no pause to linger.  Heading out of town North, the speed drops for the winding, twisting roads and the steep ascent up Oak Creek Canyon.  Switchbacks at 15 mph, scraping foot pegs on the steep turns!  What a great ride.

The smells you experience on a motorcycle are so much in tune with the landscape.  From the smell of rain when it first hits the desert floor, to the plants in the different regions, the pine trees, the fragrant smell of the Creosote bush.  A whole adventure in itself.

Driving through Flagstaff, looking for the hotel, on Route 66.  Big sign, “I-10, Rt 66, Los Angeles”.  WHAT – I just left there, or so it seems.

Tonight, 2218 miles so far.  Tomorrow, the Grand Canyon. On the way out we’ll travel Route 66, Some of the original route, right in front of our Super8 tonight, and some of the new.

Day 7, Payson, Arizona

Resisting all temptation to leave Safford at the crack of dawn, a leisurely breakfast of the usual Days Inn health food found us westward bound at 7:00am.  Payson is an easy drive west to Globe and North.  Desert all the way, prolific with Saguaro cactus.  Ten years of living in Arizona after college made me appreciate the beauty of this desert.  I love those big sentinels of the desert.  In some place they grow thick like weeds and in other places, sparsely dot the landscape.  With all the character of humans, they come short and tall, single pole and numerous arms.  Did you know their average life span is over 150 years?

The route North follows Roosevelt Lake, a huge reservoir at the upper end of the chain of dams that contain the Salt River.  I’ve been to the dam many times in the past, following a winding and incredibly narrow dirt road all the way up the canyons from Phoenix.  This photo was take from a precarious viewpoint just before arriving at the dam along that road.  Fortunately this time we followed paved roads from Globe.

Arriving in Payson was a surprise.  The not so great kind of “going back home” feeling you get.  I was not a kid when I visited here, many times in the last 1960’s.  I should have a better memory.  I remember tall Pinion Pine trees and an almost Ponderosa Ranch atmosphere.  I think they must have cut all the trees and replaced them with the Chaparral probably native to this region.  It IS cooler than the desert, perhaps fifteen degrees and it feels great.  The short ride today took about four hours, driving slow, 55ish, Letting the truckers past, and stopping frequently to appreciate the beauty of this desert.

We’re headed for the Grand Canyon.  Tomorrow will be spent n Flagstaff with a trip through Sedona.  The Grand Canyon is two days away, and I'm as excited as a kid to see it again.  It's been decades.

Happy Trails.

Day 6, Safford

Well folks, it's the last day in transit, moving from home base in Gaston, to Safford, Arizona.  And mission accomplished.  My motivation for this trip, for several years, has been to revisit Safford and specifically my parents final resting place.  It was a worthwhile trip for that purpose and I'm very glad I came.  Spent many happy Christmas times with both parents here, and with mom after dad left us in 1980.



On the way, another great family experience.  Reconnecting very late in life with cousins from Colorado, I found Janet at her mom's funeral a couple years ago.  I spent a wonderful morning in Tucson with her and her two lovable black cats..  She's an archaeologist and her work is very fascinating to me.  So we talked family and bones and pipelines and freeways.  You'll have to figure that out or ask me more some time.

Went to dinner at a place mom liked, although they have so overhauled it that it's not the same.  But it was nice atmosphere, a tough steak, and a great evening with brother Dick.  Oh, yes, that's the second part of this mission.  He came from San Antonio two days ago.  We arrived together and phase two, the Great Southwest tour, starts tomorrow.  So we've been talking and driving around town - and - getting drenched in a thunderstorm.

 It was forecast.  It's so comfortable and isolated in the restaurant that the thunderstorm raging outside was noticed only by Little Joe.  He did need a bath.  I suggested we wait it out.  Dick said "We won't melt".  So off we went.  Fortunately it was just across the street :)  And I think I sweat more on the drive over from Yuma.  The rain felt great.  Stood out in it for a few minutes just to cool off.

Tomorrow, off to Payson, AZ.  Chapter two, day one.