Doug BrotherofCats Dandridge

Cliffs along the way to Mexican Hat.

After speaking with the manager of Goulding’s I headed out, Akaso camera primed. A couple of miles down the road there was a sign for a restaurant at Mexican Hat. I would get there well before the turnoff to the Dugway and Valley of the Gods. Mexican Hat is really just a stop in the road on Hwy 163. There are a couple of hotels, a few restaurants, and one gas station/convenience store, and the inevitable Mormon church. And, of course, the famous hat rock. And last but not least, the San Juan River and the Olde Bridge. The Olde Bridge Café is on the tight turn on the other side of the bridge, coming into Mexican Hat, so I passed it by at first, running through town looking to see what they had. I turned back around and went to the café, parking next to it and away from the cliff with the falling rock warnings. The restaurant was very cool, with a lot of nostalgia and a great view of the river. I was waited on by a young Navajo man wearing a DC comics shirt and we got to talking about comic book movies. The breakfast skillet was very good, and I only had to share the entire restaurant with a couple of English girls who came in later.

Watch where you park.

After a stop for gas and sodas I was on my way, feeling very tired but having no choice but to forge on. Unlike home, where I can take a day off and go back to bed, on the road I’m more constrained by my itinerary and hotel bookings. The scenery, was, as always, spectacular, with mesas and cliffs everywhere. I easily found the turnoff to Utah Hwy 261 and head for the Moki Dugway. The road was paved all the way there, somewhat surprising. It turned into dirt and gravel just before getting to the Dugway, which is all dirt and gravel. I had been researching this place for months, and was looking forward to driving up it.

The Mexican Hat.

Seeing it from close up started second thoughts. It went up this massive cliff, and I could see cars coming down, which lent it scale. I was very tired, and the panic attack of the morning was still in mind as I looked. I had been up several steep switchback roads on this trip, so this one shouldn’t have been a problem, but in the back of my mind was this sense of fear. I went over to check out the signs for Valley of the Gods, my other destination for the morning, then back to look at the Dugway. Finally I said the hell with it and headed for Valley of the Gods. Sitting here at home I regret not going up the Dugway, which would have been a hell of a drive. Well, maybe next time.

The cliffs in the Valley of the Gods, near the Moki Dugway.

Valley of the Gods is billed as a lesser Monument Valley. I have to say there was nothing lesser about it. The monuments are just as fantastic, and there are a lot of them. The land is held by BLM, so there is no fee to enter. The road is for the most part in good shape, though there were some steep ups and downs, and some places with deep sand. I just made sure that I was going fast enough when I hit those places. And it was a narrow road, which necessitated waiting sometimes for approaching traffic to pass. But there wasn’t much traffic, allowing for slowing and stopping to take pictures. Again, spectacular cliffs, great mesas, and a constant reminder of the stone age and further back. It was about an hour’s drive, and well worth it.

Tough old bull heads over to check me out.

Formation in Valley of the Gods.

One of the coolest memories was seeing some open range cattle at the beginning of the drive. I have always been of the opinion that cattle would be helpless if not for humans. We have bred them over the centuries to be fully dependent on us. Not these guys. There was a tough looking cow with two calves who immediately sheltered behind her as my car drew near. The female had her head down, narrow eyes staring at me. A one horned bull stood nearby, lowering his head and walking toward the road as he glared at me. These were not the pampered cattle I had seen in the east. This male could handle himself against coyotes and wolves, and probably hold his own against a cougar. Something to think about when I write tales of this area.

Snowcapped mountains in the distance.

Hwy 163 continued northeast until it turned into Hwy 191 and bore more north towards Blanding. This was truly desolate country, with very little in the way of civilization. There were at least a couple of small towns on the way, Bluff and White Mesa, and the views of the snow-capped mountains in Colorado to the east were beautiful. There was also a local range to the west and another to the north, both with snow on the upper slopes. One thing that had worried me about making this trip in March was the weather. I’m a native of Florida, and though I have been in snow, I have only driven in it once. That experience was enough to make we wish to forgo the experience in the future. So far the only snows I had seen had been on the higher elevations, so everything was cool, so far. I stopped in Blanding at a 7-11 to get gas and some food. I asked the guy there what their hours were. We had 7-11s in Florida when I was growing up. The name came from their hours, 7 AM to 11 PM. An hour earlier than other stores of the era, and two hours later. I was told they were opened twenty-four hours a day, and thought they should change their name to 24-7.

On the way into the Needles section of Canyonlands.

A couple things of note here. When I first came to this region, back in February, 2017, I was constantly fooled by distances. What looked like a couple of miles turned out to be ten, fifteen, even twenty miles. A newcomer would be easily fooled, and could walk to their death thinking they were only an hour away from their destination. Something I was sure happened to a lot of early settlers and explorers. Now I was starting to get a sense of scale. I could tell that the feature that looked like it was a mile ahead was actually much further. Those mountains to the west that looked so close were actually to the south of Canyonlands National Park, and thirty or more miles from me. The mountains in Colorado reminded me of the massive ranges in the Alps, covered in snow much of the year.

Another range of mountains in the distance.

The second thing, I was trying to come up with an idea for a novel I was going to write for Chris Kennedy. I am normally a setting man. I draw maps, or look at maps, or in this case drive across landscapes, and come up with my setting. After that I flesh out a story, then add the kind of characters I think will make the story work. And I was getting a lot of ideas on this trip, not just for my post-apocalyptic novel, but for others, like the one for Chris. These were great settings. For all kinds of stories. Even the night of total darkness in Monument Valley gave me ideas.

Mesa in the Needles section of Canyonlands.

Reaching Hwy 211, I turned left and headed to the Needles Section of Canyonlands National Park. Like all of the approaches to the canyons this was another spectacular drive, with all kinds of beautiful formations, and the snow-capped mountains to the south were a great backdrop. This part of the park was not as well attended as the Island In The Sky section I would attend the next day. There were many hikers gathered at the park visitor’s center, but otherwise not many visitors. I got a look at the park, was feeling exhausted from have no sleep the night before, and decided I needed to hit the road. Chalk up another mistake for not doing my research. On getting home I found that there was actually a reason this was called the Needles section, a fantastic formation, which I missed out on.

Hole in the Rock along Highway 191.

I stopped to get a look at Hole in the Rock just off the highway south of Moab. This is a windows type of arch formation, just like in Arches Park, but is not on public land. People climb all over this thing, and I hope they are not taking samples and souvenirs from it. A beautiful formation, but its future is not bright if people are messing with it, like they were when I passed this way in July. Didn’t see any of that this time, so maybe it’s safe.

Rocks just south of Moab.

I finally got into Moab, after waiting out a couple of one lane road construction stops that stretched for miles. I was exhausted, and fell into my bed at the Super 8 for a three hour nap before getting dinner. Then it was check my video (all good) and get to bed. I would be here for two nights, and tomorrow had two national parks on the agenda.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Eleven: Day Ten: Monument Valley, and the Night From Hell.

Posted by dougdandridge on May 3, 2018

Posted in: eBooks, Fantasy, Future Prediciton, Kindle, Near Future, science Fiction, self publishing, Southwest, Travel, Writing. Tagged: Goulding's Lodge, Hogan, John Ford Point, Monument Valley, Post Apocalyptic. Leave a comment

One of the Monuments as seen from the highway.

I awoke in my apartment at Goulding’s after a very good night’s sleep on a comfortable bed. My first thought was to see if I could stay one more night. I wanted to hit the Moki Dugway and Valley of the Gods the next day, and my next scheduled hotel was in Blanding. That would involve doubling back, which I didn’t want to do. And besides, I was already in the room here, and wouldn’t have to move. Little did I know at the time that I should have gone ahead and driven to the Rodeway Inn in Blanding, where I had a room reserved.

My neighbor at the Goulding’s Lodge Apartments.

After breakfast at the Stagecoach Restaurant I went to the registration desk, and was told that I would not be able to keep the room for another night. I kind of stormed out, only to have the young lady run after me to tell me I could keep the room after all. Satisfied that I would get another good night’s sleep, I went back to my room after a stop at the local store and prepared for my tour.

Looking at one of the larger mesas.

The tour was in a truck fitted out with seats on the bed. There were two couples along on the tour, and I sat near and talked with a couple from Bavaria who were touring the United States on motorcycle. The wife spoke the most English, so she served as translator. We first stopped at an authentic Hogan, the traditional dwelling of the Navajo, right across the street from the lodge. An elderly woman showed us how they made and died the wool used on the blankets, then set up the hair of one of the women in a traditional Navajo style. After that it was across the road to the way into the Navajo Park that contained the wonders of Monument Valley.

Navajo Hogan.

I had come this way in July of 2017. I hadn’t done my research, and thought that I was driving through Monument Valley. Only to find, after I got home, that I had missed the greatest part of it. We stopped at The View, the park hotel, restaurant and gift shop, for a bathroom and picture break, then headed into the valley. Now, if you paid to enter the park you could drive your own vehicle, though some of the roads were restricted to tours only. Seeing a car from Vermont stuck in the sand on one hill it seemed that letting the professional drive was the right choice.

Our Tour Limo.

The guide, a Navajo man, gave us the facts about the various monuments, including some of the films they had been featured in. He also taught us how to say hello in Navajo, and sang one of their songs along the way. I made a mental note to look up some of the movies he mentioned. I had seen most of them before, but this time I could look at the settings with some knowledge of where they were. I asked the guide about how the monuments had come to be, and all he could say was this area had been under water millions of years ago. We’ll, he wasn’t a geologist, so I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything more. I asked him about buffalo in the park (they had buffalo in the movie I had seen the night before). His answer was ‘Hollywood’, and that there had never been buffalo in this area.

The Three Sisters.

The valley was spectacular. Rock formations everywhere. People actually live out here, and the guide told us how dark it gets at night (something I got to experience that night). We made our way to John Ford Point, where a lot of movie scenes were shot. There was a horse on the point and people were paying to having their pictures taken on the animal. Walking toward it I would have sworn it was a statue of a horse since it didn’t move a muscle, not even an ear. Then it moved a leg, and I realized that it was a living animal, just extremely well trained. One of the other people on the tour said the kid with the horse said it was his sister’s animal. We passed some horseback tours on the way further into the valley.

Another of the fantastic formations.

It was only a two-hour tour, but we saw plenty. There are four-hour backcountry tours for those who really want to get into the heart of the place. Two hours was plenty, and I gave the guide a nice tip. Another tour, one of the longer ones, was staging in the parking lot when we got back, and it looked like that truck was going to be full. I highly recommend Monument Valley. Not as spectacular at the Grand Canyon, but what is? Still, the formations are a snapshot in geological history. None of this was permanent, as strange as that seems when talking about rocks. The scree slopes of monuments, the rocks precariously balancing above, showed that these structures were in the process of collapsing. It would take time, probably millions of years, before they were gone, but it would happen.

Two of the monuments featured in the John Wayne movie ‘She Wore a Yellow Ribbon.’

I took quite a bit of video with my selfie stick on the way, and I spent the evening going over some of it. I had a lot of trouble getting the Wifi to come up and finally gave up. I decided to hit the sack early, get up early, and hit the road. The Dugway and Valley of the Gods awaited.

View fron John Ford Point.

I woke up a couple of hours later as my fan and CPAP stopped working. There was no power, and now I knew what pitch black night looked like. I could see my hand in front of my face. The only light I had was from my cell phone and my Kindle. Good thing, because I wouldn’t even have been able to find the bathroom. I waited for several hours, reading, for the power to come on and it didn’t. Finally, I decided I needed to get some sleep, though I really didn’t like the idea of sleeping without the CPAP, since I had gotten so used to it in the almost two years I had been using it. I finally dozed off, then woke up in a panic, gasping for breath, my heart pounding, in the middle of a panic attack. I’ve only had maybe three panic attacks in my life, and they’re never pleasant. I believe I had stopped breathing and was fortunate to have woken up.

A distant look in the valley.

I talked to the manager about it the next morning. The power came back on about forty minutes before I was supposed to wake up. So I had a day with no rest to look forward to, and I had to get moving. I suggested that they get some battery packs and let the guests know they had them. The guy in the apartment next to me had complained that his daughter’s medicine needed refrigeration, and he had been forced to go out and find ice that night. Into a landscape entirely without power. Later that day I learned that a huge swath of the reservation had gone without power. I’m sure it’s an infrequent event, but it does happen, and next trip I may have to find a way to bring my power inverter with me. But the night was over, and it was time to head off to the next adventure.

Looking out over the desert toward the Grand Canyon Escarpment.

The next day it was still overcast. I had been to this part of the country in mid-February of 2017, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The air was so clear you could see for thirty miles. In July of 2017 I could see small rains in the distance. This trip was the first time I had seen the sky totally overcast, and I wasn’t digging it. But, as a Park Ranger said to me later in the trip, nature gives you what it gives you. So I was off to the Grand Canyon National Park, driving down Hwy 89. Once again beautiful mountains and views, some spectacular cuts and overviews, a great drive. This was Navajo country, and I was starting to notice quite a few falling apart trailers and just about done roadside stands. My first trip to the Grand Canyon hadn’t seen me go up this way, so this was new territory.

The edge of the Painted Desert.

From past blogs people might remember I had wanted to see the Painted Desert. I had found a swatch of it on the north end of Petrified Forest National Park, but I wanted to drive through it. I noticed that as I got to the turn off to Tuba City the colors of the formations were looking a lot like the Painted Desert. I was going to drive toward Tuba City later in the day, so it was looking like I was about to hit the jackpot. I stopped at the Cameron Trading Post just past the bridge over the Little Colorado River. I bought a couple of cokes and a handmade Dreamcatcher. Not really anything I needed, but I liked what I saw. They wrapped it well and I was on my way. If you get this way I can recommmend this trading post, which is really a well stocked first class gift shop.

The Watchtower on the east end of Grand Canyon National Park.

There is now a roundabout at the junction of Hwys 89 and 64 (the road into the park). I thought they were interesting when I was in Europe. I hate the damn things in our country. There were a couple of wrecked cars and a covering of broken glass in this roundabout, along with the usual emergency vehicles. If I had wanted to go to Flagstaff there would have been a delay, but the way to the park was open. I was looking forward to taping the way in to the park. There are fantastic mountains, stretches of forest, and views of the Little Colorado River gorge. More on that later.

The Colorado River, running through the center of the Grand Canyon.

It was still overcast, and I was climbing in elevation into the park, reaching over seven thousand feet. It was looking like the view into the canyon was not going to be good. I asked the ranger at the fee station and she said that it had been socked in by clouds the day before, but in the late morning they had faded and left a great view. I was hoping for the same.

Viewpoint of the Grand Canyon.

The first stop was Desert View and the Watchtower. The clouds were really covering up the canyon, and I was beginning to think this was a wasted trip. When I got down to the edge I was surprised to see that the clouds had dissipated enough to offer a good view. Not great, but good enough to see the canyon in its glory, if not all of it. The desert view, miles and miles to the east, wasn’t very good. I guess you can’t have everything, and I had taken shots of that view in clear weather on the last trip. The Desert View Station has just about everything the main visitors’ center at the other end of the park has. Coffee shop, gift shop and restaurant. It wasn’t time to eat yet, but it was very cold outside, so I got a coffee before heading to the next stop. So far both the walking pole and the selfie stick I was using had proven their worth. I will have links to their sales pages at the end of this blog. I’m getting nothing for plugging them, but if I find something of great use, I want to trumpet their worth.

Grand Canyon viewpoint.

If you have never been to the Grand Canyon before, go. I really can’t say this enough. The pictures are great. It even looks awesome on an ultra-high definition wide screen TV. But until you actually stand there, looking out over miles of rock layers that were laid down in shallow seas over billions of years, you really don’t understand. So go, before you leave this Earth.

Woods at the top of the canyon.

I stopped at all of the viewpoints up to and including Grandview Point, the last before getting into the congestion of the visitor’s center. There were a lot of people out, even on a cold day. Some Chinese girls were playing a little too close to the cliff edge for my comfort, but otherwise everyone seemed to be taking it safe. At one viewpoint there was a score of so backpackers getting ready to head down the trail to the river. I was able to get some very good shots, talked to a bunch of people, and generally enjoyed myself, despite the weather.

Looking into the Little Colorado River Gorge.

I talked with one man with Georgia plates, thinking he might have driven here from my neck of the woods. Nope. He was a photographer who had rented the car in Vegas. I asked a guy in a car with Florida tags, family in tow, if he had driven from Florida. He said yes, and he came from a place I had probably never heard of called Wauchula. I let him know that my dad had grown up in that town. The guy was a sheriff’s deputy who had just retired, while his son had graduated early and was college bound. So he had gathered up the whole family and made the trip of a lifetime.

Amazing formmations of the Little Colorado Gorge.

On the way out of the park I stopped to take some shots of the Little Colorado River Gorge in the distance, and a family stopped with me to do the same. Probably thinking that if I did it then it was okay. Or if not, we would share in the guilt. I stopped next at the Navajo Park overlooking the gorge and they did the same. Talking with the dad, while his wife and daughters went shopping at the Navajo shopping stalls, I learned that his daughters had been playing too close to the edge at the canyon, something which had nearly caused him a heart attack. The Little Colorado Gorge is spectacular. Not near as wide as the one carved by the Colorado, probably less than a hundred yards across at the wide point, but with sheer walls dropping down to the small river at the bottom. A young woman was walking her dog, and the beast was pulling her toward the edge. She was having trouble controlling it until her boyfriend came along. There was a railing, but in some places it would be easy to go under without a problem, and it was a long drop.

I guess arachnds have now been moved to the reptilian order.

I stopped at the Burger King at the junction of 89 and 64, getting myself and my car filled up. Talking with the young Navajo man behind the counter, I asked about the Painted Desert. He asked me which way I was heading (Tuba city to Monument Valley) and he told me I had a spectacular drive ahead. Excited about the trip, I headed north, into the little section of the Painted Desert I had driven through that morning, and turned east onto US 160. The drive was spectacular, with vistas of multicolored pastel cliff faces all the way into Tuba City. I took lots of video and stills. That night, looking them over, I was a little bit disappointed that the colors didn’t come out the way I had remembered them. Another example of having to be there.

The Painted Desert.

From Tuba City I continued northwest on 160, then turned onto 163 north to Oljato-Monument Valley. Soon I was at Goulding’s Lodge, checking in, and signing up for a tour the next day. I had been planning to take a morning tour, then get on the road north right after, but the first tour that I wanted was at 1, so I needed to change my itinerary a bit. There was some confusion in finding the apartment I had booked, but I finally found it, got all of my stuff upstairs, and headed out to look over the Goulding’s land a bit. This included a small University outpost and an RV park. The apartment was cool, with two bedrooms, a full kitchen, really more than I needed. But when I had booked it the apartment was cheaper than the regular rooms. It would be perfect for two couples, or a pair of platonic friends, who wanted to spend a couple days out here. And after dinner I went to the theater to watch John Wayne in She Wore A Yellow Ribbon, which featured many of the monuments in the valley. Afterwards it was back to the apartment to sleep the sleep of the exhausted.

Next up: Monument Valley and the Night From Hell.

The Alaska Life Selfie Stick: I love this thing. It locks in place and doesn’t budge, holding the camera perfectly steady. And I think you could knock out a bear with it.

Brown Mountain Trekking Poles: They come as a set of two, and I only use one. Much more handy than a regular cane, I use one in town. Quick release allows you to collapse and expand it in seconds. A very sturdy, well made set of poles.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Nine: Day Eight: The Grand Staircase and Lake Powell.

Posted by dougdandridge on April 20, 2018

Posted in: eBooks, History, Kindle, Near Future, self publishing, Southwest, Travel, Uncategorized. Tagged: Arizona, Grand Canyon, Grand Staircase, Lake Powell, Page, Post Apocalyptic, Utah. Leave a comment

Within the canyon at Best Friends.

I woke to my cell phone alarm and started to get myself ready for the day. Then, putting on my watch, I noticed that the time did not agree with the phone. A quick google search revealed that I had forgotten completely about Daylight Savings Time. Not a real problem, though I had gotten an hour’s less sleep than I had planned. I didn’t really have any plans for the day other than getting to Page, Arizona and catching as much of the Grand Staircase Escalante as I could. A Cuban-American friend had noted that Escalante meant staircase, so the name was kind of redundant. I had noted that they wanted their American visitors, not all of whom spoke Spanish, to understand the name. Anyway, there was no drive through except the one to Bryce, and I wasn’t going that way. So I would have to hope I got a good view of something along the way. I wasn’t disappointed.

An escarpment in the Grand Staircase. I would love to wake up to this every day.

Another breakfast at Porter’s. They had a special this day, two pork chops on a breakfast platter with eggs and sourdough biscuit. Yum. After breakfast it was back up Hwy 9 and the High Road, headed for Mt. Carmel Junction. I had gone there on the last trip, turning north on US 89 to head to Bryce. This time I would be heading south. Unfortunately, it was raining this day, and most of my video features windshield wipers going back and forth. Couldn’t be helped, and I still got some good footage. I stopped off at the huge convenience store at the Junction to get a couple of sodas, and then headed off toward Kanab.

Rock formation in the Grand Staircase Escalante Monunment.

There were some great vistas of the National Monument to my left as I drove, and rolling hills desert leading to the Grand Canyon Escarpment to my right. I was able to get some video, but unfortunately there were not enough pulloffs, and I had to make creative use of the shoulder to get some stills. The problem was, the Akaso, while getting great shots to the front and near sides, missed the views into the canyons, the shots that were so spectacular. Still, I got a good view of some of it. Being a National Monument, there were no paved roads piercing the center, nor were there any plans for putting any in. They want to keep the area as primitive and natural as possible, and I can’t blame them. Next time I may come this way with a four wheel drive and go down some of the dirt roads that penetrate the monument. I had wanted to visit the North Rim of the Grand Canyon this trip, but it was closed until May. As I found out on this trip, there was still a lot of snow up in the higher altitudes, and the North Rim was much higher than the south.

Best Friend’s Animal Rescue visitor center.

North of Kanab I ran into a surprise. I had been told in Springdale that Good Friends Animal Rescue had a facility in Kanab, but I had figured they meant within the town. Now, miles from the city, I saw the sign. I pulled in to the visitor center and was disappointed to find out that they wouldn’t have a tour for another three hours. I didn’t have that kind of time, but took them up on the invitation to drive through the canyon myself. It was a huge property in a beautiful rocky canyon. They had horse pastures where they took care of the equines, including one I saw that was blind. There was a large animal graveyard, and cabins for dogs and cats. I was impressed. I donate to this organization, and it did my heart good to see the care they were giving to abused and abandoned animals. Kanab itself was not such a big deal, another small town, though much larger than most I had driven through on this trip.

Formations rising out of Lake Powell.

From Kanab I continued along US 89, and more miles of beautiful scenery, until I came to Lake Powell. Now I was in Arizona, which didn’t use Daylight Saving’s Time, so I regained my lost hour, for now. The large lake is formed by the back flow of the Colorado River from the Glen Canyon Dam. It’s a very large lake, and I only got to see a little of it. I went into the National Recreation Area and took some shots of the mesas that were sticking out of the water. Lake Powell is the first of the four lakes that have been formed by damming the Colorado River, and looks to be in good shape, with water up to the banks. There were many boats out on the lake, and many more in the storage buildings along its banks. From there I drove to the dam.

The Colorado River Gorge west of Lake Powell.

Bridge over the Colorado River Gorge.

A bridge spans the gorge a little bit out from the dam. To my left was the dam. I had seen on the way to the bridge that the water was about ten feet below the top of the dam. Now on the bridge I looked to the right, and felt my heart skip a beat. The narrow gorge seemed to plunge down a thousand feet to the river. I really had no way of telling the distance, but it was enough to evoke a feeling of vertigo. I continued on to a pull off and got a good look at the dam and the gorge, taking pictures. A little further up the road there was a sign pointing the way to the scenic overlook. I went that way and got an even better look at the gorge. Afterwards I went to McDonald’s for lunch, then a resupply run to Walmart. Then it was to La Quinta to check in. I took a nap, then went to Denny’s for dinner. I went to sleep that night, looking forward to the Grand Canyon National Park the next day, hoping for good weather.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Eight: Day Seven: Back To Zion

Posted by dougdandridge on April 17, 2018

Posted in: eBooks, Fantasy, Kindle, Near Future, Southwest, Travel, Writing. Tagged: HIghway 9, Porter's Restaurant, The High Road, The Narrows, Wiley's, Zion National Park. 1 Comment

One of the funny signs at Porter’s Restaurant.

Woke up realizing that this would be the last day of the first week of the trip. As usual, these things seemed to speed by too fast. When you’re a child, the hours seem to crawl by. Now, when I can enjoy the time, it seems to fly by at the speed of light.

We’re watching you.

The night before I was told by the owner of the hotel that my favorite breakfast place in Springdale, Porters (also known as Wiley’s because of the Roadrunner and Coyote decor) was closed. I am happy to report that this was not true, and I popped over there for a very good breakfast and lots of coffee. The waitress was very personable, and I had to ask her if the Buzzard statues over some of the booths had meaning. She laughed, and said that sometimes the staff turned the heads to look at a particular booth.

Walking toward The Narrows.

My handy-dandy Annual Pass got me through the gate to Zion, and I was soon in the parking lot waiting for the shuttle bus. As said in the last blog, the day before was the last day people could take cars deep into the park. They have too many visitors, and the road would soon be clogged. Fortunately they had a very good shuttle bus system, with a bus coming by each of the eight stops every five minutes or so. The buses were not crowded, and there was no wait, as there was last time. I think they were getting them ready for the rush, before they would be packed. Good thinking, as a couple of the buses broke down while I was in the park. Fortunately none of the vehicles I rode on. Just like last time I rode all the way to the end, to the Temple of Sinawava and the entrance to the narrows. I walked a short ways along the Virgin River, taping. The narrows are popular, but to my way of thinking too dangerous. If you’re an hour in when a flash flood hits, you could be in real trouble. Remember that term if you come out west. Flash Flood. They are real, and they are dangerous. An entire family had been swept away outside of Phoenix in July of 2017. And you would have to walk through cold water the entire way.

The Virgin River.

Zion will feature prominently in my post-apocalyptic work. It has water, trees, and sandstone cliffs that can be tunneled into. It also is defensible, with easily guarded entrances. And it’s geologically active. They have had river diverting landslides in the recent past, and expect to have them in the near future. The rocks are fantastic, cliffs everywhere. They have mule deer and California Condors (see, everyone with sense is trying to get out of California, including the birds). There are supposed to be some terrific hikes up the canyon walls, but in my current state of health they aren’t for me. Hopefully someday. There are also warning signs showing a figure about to hit a hard surface, with printed warning that it is possible to fall off the trails. So don’t go up with someone you don’t trust, though going up with someone you hate might be a plan.

You have been warned. People do fall off the cliffs, as the infographic shows.

I rode back through the park, stopping at each bus stop to get some video, then riding the next one to come along when I was ready. So I went to Angels Landing, Zion Lodge and Emerald Pools Trail. I walked in a bit on Emerald Pools Trail and got some great shots. Back at the visitor’s center I bought a book on the geology of the canyon and headed out looking for lunch. I know I could get the information online, but I still like to curl up with a book. The only problem I have is the weight restriction on airline bags, or I would come back with a hundred pounds of books. There was a restaurant through the pedestrian entrance to the park. Tired of all the burgers I had had over the last week, I ordered the fish n chips at the Zion Canyon Brewing Company. The lunch was okay, the service was good, and I got a meal in me before going back into the park to get my car and drive up the high road.

Cliff walls at Zion.

The High Road is Zion-Mt. Carmel Hwy, or Hwy 9. It goes upward on the canyon wall through six switchbacks before getting to the one mile long tunnel. Spectacular views, and a lot of traffic this day. A slight bit of drizzly rain, but fortunately not while I was driving or taping. The first time I came this way it blew my mind. I knew what to expect this time, so it wasn’t as much of a rush, but still gorgeous. On the other side of the tunnel is a different part of the park. There’s another short tunnel up the way, and a lot of pullovers so you can look at and take pictures of some of the most spectacular geology I have ever seen. Mountains like Checkerboard Mesa, several side canyons, and rock layers at various angles that defied my ability to explain how they had gotten that way. I video taped the entire way, then did the way back as well. Driving these routes, each way is completely different, since you are approaching them at different angles. I told the ranger at the park entrance up here that this was my favorite part of the park. She said that most people like the lower area the most, and I told her, ‘yes, but they don’t know geology.’

Shuttle Bus at Zion.

After leaving the park I drove up a couple of side streets in Springdale to catch some different views of the canyon, and stopped at the gift shop across the street from my hotel to redeem my coupon, then over to Zion Outdoor to pick up a day pack to replace the cheap Russian one I had brought with me, the one that had fallen apart. And another full day was in the books. I repaired back to my hotel to eat leftover pizza, not knowing that a couple of surprises would meet me in the morning.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Seven: Day Six: Back To Zion, Day One.

Posted by dougdandridge on April 13, 2018

Posted in: Fantasy, Kindle, science Fiction, self publishing, Southwest, Travel, Writing. Tagged: Amagosa Opera House, Death Valley, Las Vegas, Springdale, Virgin River Gorge. Leave a comment

Amargosa Opera HOuse and Hotel.

After Breakfast at the small café that serves the hotel, I was on the road again. The breakfast was good, if not the best I had had on the trip, and the staff was friendly. Then into Pahrump. I had been thinking about doing a big roundabout through the Nevada desert to get to I-15 and the trip up the Virgin River Gorge, but now thought it might be better to get to the hotel in Springdale earlier. It turned out to be a wise decision. So it was down Hwy 95 to Vegas. The state troopers were busy this day, and I saw two sports cars (with racing stickers and everything) stopped on the side of the road getting tickets. After lunch in Vegas I took the Bruce Woodbury Beltway from 95 to I-15, and was on my way north.

Mt. Charleston in the Spring Mountains as seen from Pahrump.

The first time I had come this way the Virgin River gorge had caught me by surprise. This time I knew what was coming, and there wasn’t as much of the shock and awe as the first time. Still, it is a spectacular drive with starkly beautiful rock walls and mountains on each side. I filmed it going through, and only discovered later that there was a smashed bug in the middle of the camera field. The things you learn, too late. Besides, there was no way I could have stopped and cleaned the windshield even if I had known.

Rock formations of Hwy 9 going to Zion.

I got off on Hwy 9 to Hurricane, then wended my way through the landscapes to the town of Springdale, situated at the entrance to Zion. Beautiful country of cliffs and mesas. I kept thinking of the stone age, then even further back to the era of the dinosaurs. Some of these rocks had been laid down in seas that covered this area well before the first plants colonized the land, or the first animals dragged their bodies into the air. Everything was going well until I hit Springdale, at which time the Utah Highway Department made its presence known with road work. There were stretches where they were tearing up one side of the road, and only one lane could move on the other. So it was wait for what seemed like an endless line of cars to roll by before going, then stopping again a mile or so further. I think there were three places where they were tearing up the road. The busy season was about to begin at Zion, and they weren’t ready.

I checked into the Zion Park Hotel, about the cheapest you can find in the area but still very comfortable. They had a laundry mat on the other side of a building on the same block, so I thought it a good time to get some done. I had packed enough for ten days and was out there for fourteen. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that I would need to do laundry at some time, and the sooner I could get it out of the way the better.

Mesa and rock formations on the way to Zion.

Zion is one of the most popular national parks in the country, and the next day they were switching over to the shuttle system, in which no private cars were allowed past a certain point. You can still drive in and take the high road out of the park, which I intended to do the next day. Laundry was done in a little over an hour, and then it was time to look for someplace to eat. Zion Pizza and Noodle Company, just across the street, looked interesting, so I crossed the road, filling up with the backed up traffic coming out of the park, and ordered a Pizza. The place was crowded, but I found a table outside and was soon in a conversation with a young couple from Ohio. Talk turned to publishing, and another young lady asked a few questions. Yes, everyone really does want to be an author, until they find out what kind of work it takes. Half the pizza was enough, and I had left overs for dinner the next night. I went back to the hotel, reviewed my footage, cried over the smashed bug, and went to bed. Tomorrow would be a busy day, and I would be at this hotel for two nights. It had started raining, a light drizzle, and I went to sleep hoping that we didn’t have heavy rains that would spoil my video taping.

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Rock formation at Zabriskie point.

I was really looking forward to seeing Death Valley in reasonable temperatures. It had been 123 degrees at Furnace Creek the last time I had visited, and had hit 125 at one point while driving to it. It had remained comfortable in my car, but seeing as the temp seemed to fluctuate with the altitude, I avoided going to Badwater, the lowest point in North America.

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Badlands, and further it, the valley, at Zabriskie point.

It had still been interesting. Stark arid landscapes, the perfect scene for a post-apocalyptic world, if that world had been scoured with nuclear fire. Many movies and TV shows, including The Twilight Zone, had been shot there. Mining settlements had come and gone. There were thousands of out of the way places on the edge, many with cabins or the remains of small towns. Aircraft had crashed here. Wonderhussy has a video of one of these crash sites that she went to, and to several more of the cabins up in the mountains surrounding the lowlands. There is water here. Not much, and most of it saline and undrinkable. But there are also springs of good water, and small valleys with lush vegetation. But not out on the lowlands that are the park. This was perfect territory for the imagination.

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The old Amargosa Opera House. I would be staying in the attached hotel.

So I left Bonnie Springs after a good breakfast and drove up the back way, up Hwy 160 to Pahrump. Again some spectacular scenery. The Spring Mountains had white caps from a late season snow. I could look across miles of desolation to Sandy Valley. The road was actually quite good, and soon I was in Pahrump, where I decided to let my GPS lead the way. And it failed. Eventually I just turned down a west bound street, then over a north bound until I hit the convenience store I remembered from my last trip. Then it was westward to Death Valley Junction, where the Amagrosa Opera House is located. The hotel was hard to miss. There are only three buildings at the junction, along with a couple of old water towers from the borax processing days, when the junction was a company town. I took some pictures of the Opera House before moving on, taking advantage of the daylight. The Opera House itself has an amazing history. A couple rented it back in the day and actually opened it up to producing local plays. These plays are still hosted there in season. And the old hotel, which used to be quarters for the employees of the borax works, is still open. More on that later.

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Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes.

So, I headed up Hwy 190 to Furnace Creek, which houses the visitor’s center for the National Park as well as a gas station and other services. The scenery along the way was spectacular for this old rock hound (I like to look at them. I don’t collect them, like Lucy in The Long, Long Trailer. I don’t want to pay the over limit charges on bags while flying and mailing them is also a non-starter. But the formations in the mountains were spectacular, and I could send them by mail anyway. I stopped at Zabriskie Point to go up to the overlook for another great view. I had been here in the summer, and it was just too hot for even this short upward hike. The walk in the seventy some odd degree temp was well worth it, and I got some great shots, as well as some video, from up there.

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Rugged mountains of the park.

Going further into the park I encountered one of the major problems with my Akaso cameras. I had six batteries, and one 64GB micro-Sd card lasted for six hours. But the batteries lasted at most forty minutes, and more often thirty. I was constantly having to pull over and change them, as the camera gives very little warning before it shuts down. Still, I filmed most of the trip in, and was soon at Furnace Creek. What a difference. The temp was up in the high seventies (the high for the day was eighty-three), and there was a nice breeze. Still dry as hell, and the water was sucked right out of you. But I had plenty of water. After the stop over I headed north. Scotty’s Castle was closed, but Stovepipe Wells and the sand dunes were open, so off I went.

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More of the surrounding mountains.

First I stopped at the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes, sixteen square miles of mostly sand with some trees (mostly dead) and other sparse vegetation. It looked like it could be used, at the proper angles, as a set for a movie set in the Sahara. Stovepipe Wells was also small, without much more than a hotel, gas station, general store and a saloon/restaurant. I had a club sandwich at the saloon, which must have been an oasis of cool during the summer. Talking with the bartender I found out that Death Valley receives the most traffic during the summer, as hard as that is to believe. After lunch I headed back to Furnace Creek. This angle was how I entered the valley the first time, from the north, looking across the shimmering expanse of desolation. It had a grandeur I hadn’t seen anywhere else. The most desolate place in North America. The hottest, driest, and with the lowest elevation. It was still the same, though the temperatures were much more bearable.

Ruins of the Borax Processing Operation.

Near Artist’s Pallet.

From Furnace Creek I headed down the road to the south to Badwater, the lowest part of the park. I probably should have taken the roundabout road to the Artist’s Palette but was running out of time. Maybe next time. Still, the cliffs I could see were very colorful. The rock formations down this way were spectacular, and like everything else down here each mountain range was one of a kind. After a short stop at Badwater I continued south. I planned to leave the park by Jubilee Pass Road to Shoshone. It was a good thing I hadn’t taken the road to Artist’s Palette, since there was road construction at several points and one-way traffic. Finally made it to the turn off and the long road out through several passes. Filmed as much as I could of more spectacular scenery. Turning south on Hwy 178 I reached Shoshone, planning to stop and eat. Unfortunately there wasn’t much there. A school, a gas station, a post office and a museum. I filled up the car, paying the outrageous California price of over four dollars a gallon, then picked up a sandwich in case the restaurant at Amargosa Opera House wasn’t open. Which it wasn’t.

The owner of the hotel in the lobby taking a nap.

The hotel was cool. Not modern, not well painted, but it had that old-style ambiance to it. A perfect place for a ghost story with its history, but since I didn’t believe in ghosts I had no problem dismissing the possibility of late night visitations. And the owner had a friendly cat, giving me my kitty fix. The bed was comfortable, and I learned that there was a restaurant up the road. I headed that way and found out that the restaurant was also a hotel/casino, just over the state line into Nevada. I think every road into Nevada has a casino. This one was the Longstreet Inn, Casino and RV Resort. The food was not great, but it was filling, and I was back at the hotel in a flash, checking out my video take for the day. Tomorrow I would head into another state, and another national park.

Doug BrotherofCats Dandridge

Science Fiction and Fantasy Writer's Site

The Third Trip Out West, Part Twelve: Day Eleven: The Moki Dugway (sorta), Valley of the Gods and the Needles Section of Canyonlands National Park.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Eleven: Day Ten: Monument Valley, and the Night From Hell.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Ten: Day Nine: Grand Canyon National Park, the Painted Desert and into Monument Valley.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Nine: Day Eight: The Grand Staircase and Lake Powell.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Eight: Day Seven: Back To Zion

The Third Trip Out West, Part Seven: Day Six: Back To Zion, Day One.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Six: Day Five: Death Valley and the Amargosa Opera House Hotel.

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