Doug BrotherofCats Dandridge

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 14: Rebellion. In the UK an be bought here.

Over nine months after the last book, Exodus: Empires at War: Book 13: Retaliation, was released, I am proud to announce that Exodus: Empires at War: Book 14: Rebellion is out. A lot of obstacles got in the way of this book being released earlier. I had other projects that needed to be completed, some new opportunities, and some finishing up on series that had still not reached a stopping point. More on that last later on. First off, I needed to come up with an idea for the book, and when I finally got around to putting it first in the queue, the idea still eluded me. Finally, in mid-July, my imagination came alive and voila, there was the idea, and the book was ready to be written. I put in many five thousand word days, fourteen in a row at one point, but here it is.

Now, the good news for Exodus Fans. Some of the opportunities I took advantage of, which will definitely be paying off in the future, played havoc with my normal production schedule. I usually put out between five and six books a year, four or more in one of the two Exodus series, Empires at War and Machine War. This year I was not able to keep to that schedule, and I took a financial beating that wasn’t helped by taking a long trip to Nevada to tour that area. That will also help in the future when I start on a new series, probably next year. Frankly, I need to get some books out in my most popular series in order to repair the financial damage. So, I will be working hard to attempt to bring four more books in the series out before the end of the year. I might not make it, but it won’t be for lack of effort. So, two more Empires at War and two more Machine War. I may be closing out the Machine War series by book 6, but don’t worry, fans of that series. The main characters will be joining the war on the Ca’cadasan front. I had planned to end Empires at War after another couple of books, but now it’s looking like at least four more in the series, possibly six. I also plan to do two more Tales of the Empire short collections, and will start, by the end of next year, on a line called In The Beginning (tentative title), a series of six to eight books detailing the history of the wacky nation known as the New Terran Empire. So, there is still a lot of Exodus to come.

I have been accused by some people of only being in it for the money. Not quite true. Even if I wasn’t making a living at this I would still be writing. But to make a living I have to write works that people want to buy. That I’m not only in it for the money, I point to the Theocracy and Refuge series. Neither sell great, but I enjoy writing them, and there are enough fans of both series that I don’t want to just drop them in the middle of the story arc. I will try to get in the third Theocracy book next year, and book 6 of Refuge probably soon after. I had been planning to finish off Refuge at that time, but I think that by stretching it out in time I might be able to see myself doing two more. For people who are fans of the series, talk it up with friends, people at conventions, online. The more it sells, the more I will be willing to write in that series.

Now, to the opportunities. I have finished book 1 of a new series for a traditional house, Arc Manor, the publisher of Galaxy’s Edge magazine. It took a lot of time, and I had a harsh task master as an editor, but I learned a lot about writing. I doubt I would have gotten such an opportunity from anyone else. I have a second book due, and the publisher is amenable to putting a third on the contract after seeing the first. I will also be working on book two of Kinship War, as the series is called, during the fall. We are hoping that it will be a hit, and will open up a shared universe for other authors to write in. The second opportunity came from Chris Kennedy, whose publishing company is behind the very successful Four Horsemen Universe that he, Mark Wandrey, and now so many others write in. If any of my fans haven’t read any of their books, you need to go and get some and start reading. My novel, When Eagles Dare, will be coming out shortly. I also have a short story in another anthology set in the Universe. The other anthologies did really well, and I recommend them as well. Also, my short story, Alone, will be coming out soon in Chuck Gannon’s Lost Signals of the Terran Republic anthology.

I will also be releasing two other books in the next couple of weeks. One is a military fantasy, set in a gunpowder technology era. I wrote it years ago, well before Exodus was even a glimmer of an idea. An editor at a major house was interested in it, but frankly, I’ve got my traditional novel coming out, and I don’t want to wait a year or two for it to be accepted (or rejected) and finally make its way to production. The other is a science fiction/horror novel called Soulless, not for the timid or the young. Also written years before I even conceived of Exodus, it was praised by several of the instructors at a workshop where I presented the first two chapters. After that my harddrive will be cleared of unpublished finished works, with one exception that will have to wait.

So, for those who are mostly fans of Exodus, there will be more coming along, and soon. For those who are fans of Refuge, there will be more, but I can only afford to release one a year. And I have ideas for other series, which will be making their way to print over the next couple of years. I’m hoping to have a very productive couple of years ahead. If I can keep the body together I will be writing for years to come. I have no plans to retire from this job. I am still looking into getting more of the Exodus books produced as audiobooks, something I am constantly asked. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to get the producer of the first five interested in doing any others. I had one narrator lined up, but he dropped out from the project soon after agreeing to do it. I can’t afford to produce them other than as a royalty share, and to do that I have to get a narrator to sign on. I have thought of doing it myself, but I really don’t have the time. It would cut into my writing time, and besides, I have lots of allergies, and getting through fifteen minutes without throat clearing is a challenge. I will be posting the job for Exodus 6 once again, but there are no guarantees. For those who have been following this blog for the travelogue of my last trip out West, I will be putting out the last chapter this Friday. And now for the excerpt:

“I think we’ll take this one first,” said the admiral, pointing to one of the projector ships. “Sinbad can go after this one, while Stuart takes this one.”

“Very good ma’am,” said the tactical officer, imputing the information into his board, setting up the attack profile for the squadron. He looked over at the com officer, who nodded back before sending the orders out through whisker laser.

“We should start configuring for attack in twenty-five minutes,” said the tac officer, frowning. “It means we won’t be sucking out heat for the fifteen minutes before the attack, but I don’t think it a good idea to delay any longer.”

“Very well. Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“And how do you want to attack the rest of them?”

“Let’s see how we do with the initial attack before we start planning the others.”

The tac nodded in agreement. Not only would they not know how much of a force they had to attack the remaining enemy until after the first strike, but they wouldn’t know what the enemy was going to do before then. She hoped she still had three battle capable capital ships after that strike, but there was no guarantee. There was never a guarantee in combat.

The bridge crew waited. They had nothing to do but relay information to the squadron commander, and transmit her orders to the command bridges of the three ships. The real fighting would be handled by the command teams of the warships, maneuvering and firing at the orders of their captains and the skill of helm and tactical officers.

Mei reached up and wiped the sweat from her brow. She checked the temperature, and found that the environment of the bridge was still as cool as ever. Nerves was her thought. She had thought that by now she would be used to the tension before entering combat, but it never became any easier.

“Ships are configuring their wormholes for combat,” called out the com officer, his voice cracking slightly from the tension.

And now we find out how alert they are, thought Mei. They wouldn’t start producing heat immediately, but it would come, and they would no longer be as stealthy as before.

“Wormholes are set,” said the tac officer.

“Donut is reporting that the accelerators are spun up,” said the com officer. “Reactors at full power.”

Maybe I should have gone with missiles, thought the admiral. Wormhole launched missiles would have been instant kills when they hit, but she had a never heard of anyone firing them this close to a star. She wasn’t sure why that bothered her, but her instincts told her that the particle beams would be a better option in this situation.

She took one last look at the plot, trying to time it perfectly. The sensor officer turned toward her and said the words that took that option away from her.

“We’re being painted with lidar, ma’am.”

“Now,” shouted the admiral, her excitement at finally going into action taking control of her voice.

The well drilled ships all accomplished their actions within a second of each other. Electromagnetic fields came up at full strength, cold plasma injected as soon as they were formed. Laser rings took a couple of seconds to come up to full power, but counter missiles and offensive weapons were ready in an instant. And grabbers boosted up to full power, pulling their ships onto different vectors at five hundred and thirty gravities, then a couple of more, sinking the crew back into their acceleration couches as six gravities came over them in an instant.

Eight million ton warships now moved into the attack like they were fighters. Helms took control of the particle beams, slaved to their joysticks as the holos over their stations showed the aim point. Tactical officers continued to control the lasers and missiles, concentrating on defending their vessels.

The Jean de Arc vectored around the star, using its gravitational field to swing into the same orbital path as their target. They closed at thousands of kilometers a second, twisting, turning and rolling to avoid the lasers that the enemy was now firing their way. The ship shook from a hit, the damage to the hull causing the outgassing that provided unintentional thrust. Some missiles erupted from the enemy. Mei sucked in a breath

“They’re counters, ma’am,” called out the tac officer. “Not offensive weapons.”

“Firing,” called out the helmsman from the control bridge. The ship shook again as the counter thrust of the particle beam worked against the pull of the grabbers.

The forward viewer on the flag bridge showed the enemy superbattleship, highlighted against the brilliant globe of the star, sitting a couple of million kilometers below. The particle beam struck out, hitting dead center on the enemy vessel, going off for a moment, then connecting again as the helmsman adjusted the ship and his aim.

Particle beams were red in air due to the friction cause by protons flying at relativistic speeds through the gas particles. In space they were normally invisible. But this close to the star, in space that had greater particle density than further out, the destruction of antiprotons on the outer edge of the beam, contacting star plasma, had much the same effect. The angry red of the beam made aiming easy for the helmsmen.

Where the beam hit intense fire lived. Antiprotons exploded into particles as they touched matter, while making the atoms of matter blast into similar particles. The force of the strike, antiprotons moving at just under the speed of light, sent the fire deep into the hull after blasting through the armor.

Still, the ship was tough, and the beam would not kill them quickly. What they did was erode away all the electronics and installations for a hundred meters on each side of the strike, degrading defenses.

“Firing missiles,” came another voice over the intercom, the ship’s tactical officer releasing six missiles from the forward tubes. The missiles arced out, then in, avoiding the particle beam, then striking the hull of the enemy ship. One was knocked off course on the way in, one was detonated by a second laser. Four hit, each releasing a gigaton of force into the hull of the ship.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Fifteen: Day Thirteen: Disaster on I-15.

Posted by dougdandridge on August 17, 2018

Posted in: Kindle, Travel, Tropes, Writing. Tagged: I-15, Las Vegas, The Strip. 2 Comments

No pictures for this one. The camera was back at the hotel, which turned out to be a good thing.

The strip was crowded, I didn’t think I had enough battery power for another complete go through (remember, I had been taping all day). I thought I would just get on the northbound interstate (what they call a Freeway out there) and cruise up to the Craig St exit, right into my hotel, quick and easy. I didn’t take into account the traffic from St. Patty’s Day Weekend, or the road construction. Two lanes were shut down on the normally five land road, and the traffic was bumper to bumper and crawling along, stop and go, with the goes never getting above ten miles per hour. I worked my way toward the rightmost lane so I would be able to get off easily. In the insane world of interstates, not only was it bumper to bumper, but people were constantly squirting into any opening to change lanes.

One thing I hate about highways I’m not familiar with. They have quirks that the visitor is not aware of. And I was about to hit one of those quirks on the 42b offramp. The lane I was in was suddenly the rightmost lane of a two lane exit down to Hwy 95, also known as the Las Vegas Expressway. There was a sign saying one of the lanes was ending ahead (which I don’t think happened). The exit was a long gently curving straightaway. Suddenly there were lights in my rearview mirror, coming much too close. Then the sudden slam of a hard impact. My car was pushed into the concrete guardrail. The lights backed up for a moment, then the white vehicle sped around me and off, down the ramp. I had just been the victim of a hit and run driver. A lady stopped to see if I was okay while I was taking stock of all my possessions that had been flung about the interior. I was fine. In shock a bit. I had been in a collision in the past, running into a truck that had run a stoplight. That one was much worse. I had sustained a broken arm, a concussion, and a massive bruise where the seat belt ran across my chest. This one was nothing compared to that. In retrospect there might have been a very slight concussion, because I was feeling confused for a bit.

I called 911 and was told a state trooper would be on the way. I waited. And waited. No fault to the Nevada Highway Patrol. I assume this was one of their busier nights. But the cars coming around the curve, still flying, made me cringe. I was sure I was going to get hit again. So I moved the car down the ramp to where there was a shoulder just barely wide enough for my car. The dispatcher called me and asked me where I was. I looked over to my right and saw a series of numbered buildings with a sign in front indicating they were The Pavilions. There was also a metro cop with his lights going on one of the streets. I informed the dispatcher of my landmarks. A few days later Google asked me on my phone how my trip to the Pavilions had been. Not so good.

The trooper finally showed up, and she asked me to move my car further up so she wouldn’t get hit. I gave her my license and filled out the statement she handed me. It wasn’t much of a statement, comprising only four sentences. She had called a tow truck, and he cleared a path while she moved her car up to close a lane. I was instructed to get in the truck, and that he would be taking me off the ramp. The driver gave me his information, and told me he couldn’t take me anywhere by law, because that would be seen as being in competition with the taxis. Instead he would drop me off and I would have to call a cab. So he dropped me off at a Chevron/7-11 in the bad part of town, about seven blocks off the strip. I got the last of the items I could find (I never did find the base plate for my GPS, but I did get the unit itself). A woman came along and asked me if I wanted the stuff left in my car, which included paper towels, Windex, and a half case of bottled water. She scarfed them all up, and later offered me a ride. No thanks. I had had enough trouble that night without getting into a car with a stranger.

I went into the 7-11 and asked them if they had a number for a cab. One of the guys behind the counter told me that cabs didn’t come out there. That I had to walk to Fremont St to get one. I really had to go to the bathroom bad, my mouth was dry as the desert (weird, huh), but I started down the street. In retrospect I should have asked to use their bathroom and bought something to drink. It was a long, lonely walk to Fremont, with the exception of the vagrants and drunks along the way. It was cold out, and all I had was my leather jacket. I hadn’t expected to be out in the night. I held tight to the walking stick that had been my companion on the trip. It would make a formidable weapon if need be. Fortunately, it didn’t need be. I made it to the strip and walked to the Fremont, which was filled with younger partiers. I saw Heart Attack Burger, which lets you eat free if you weigh over three hundred and fifty pounds. Rats, I was seventy-five pounds short. I finally found a cab, but he refused to take me to North Vegas. I think he was making too much money running up and down the strip. I found another, and was asked if I could pay him. I guess by that point I was looking like a vagrant.

I rode in the front of the cab, and talked with the driver the whole way. He was from Ethiopia, and we talked about the lions I had seen in Henderson, among other things. I was dropped off at my hotel, and the driver got a very good tip. It had been an exciting night in the worst meaning of the word, but I had come through, so now it would be stored away in my memories as an adventure. Funny thing. I still felt a great urge to take a piss, but I had gone with that urge for almost two hours. I had six hours I could get some sleep in, but first I had to check the vid I had taken on the strip. The next day I would fly out of Vegas, but the plans leading up to that flight had changed.

Next up: The Last Day in Vegas and the flight home.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Fourteen: Day Thirteen: From Moab back to Vegas along I-70 and I-15.

Posted by dougdandridge on July 26, 2018

Posted in: Alien Life, Conferences, eBooks, Fantasy, Kindle, Plotting, Southwest, Travel, Writing. Tagged: Beaver, I-70, Utah. 4 Comments

P1040477

Rocks near the San Rafael Swell.

Time was running out on the trip. It had been great so far, except for the few snags I hit along the way. The really cool stuff more than made up for those. Today I was going on a long drive, the longest of the trip, and hoping to see some really cool sights along the way. I would be traveling I-70 westbound, along the longest strip of road in America without services. And through the San Rafael Swell. From there I was going to play it by ear. I was thinking of going back in Nevada by way of regular highways, then down to Vegas. By the time I got to I-15 and the clock was showing how long this drive really was, my plans had changed.

Papa Joe’s Stop & Go.

After eating breakfast I was on the road with a full tank of gas. I thought there had to be something where I could get some diet sodas at the junction of US 191 and I-70. Fortunately there was, and it wasn’t the general convenience store I had thought. Papa Joe’s Stop and Go is pure nostalgia, a one man operation (well, two if you count the cat that sat on a cushion behind him while he manned the register). I had an interesting conversation with the owner, bought my two sodas, and was on the road. The first sign I saw on I-70 was the warning that there were no services ahead for over a hundred miles. There were exits, and their were viewing points with bathrooms, the toilet over a hole in the ground kind found in most of the parks. But there were no restaurants and no gas stations. I was ready for that, since I had just eaten an hour before and had a full tank. There was some snow along the side of the road, and into the interior when I didn’t have mountains and rocks in the way. Many of those mountains and rocks also had snow, and I was hoping I didn’t run into the icy roads I feared.

More formations.

There were plenty of exits. To state parks, to small towns, to roads that led to the major national parks to the south. But not a service station to be seen. And then there was the horror of the Frankentrucks. Now I know that term has another meaning for people who served in Iraq, but I thought the term fit here as well. Most of the ones I saw were Federal Express, though there were some others companies represented as well. Trucks with three trailers attached, the last one invariably swaying back and forth and going over the line. We have double trucks in the East, but so far I have seen nothing like these abominations. After having run into a truck that had run a stop light years ago, I don’t like sharing the road with any of them. But this was beyond the pale. The only thing to do was speed past them. So it was past the green river, flowing through the shallow canyons before hitting the granddaddy to the south. Along the cliff faces and mountains that populated this part of the desert. To the San Rafael Swell, another of the reefs that stopped the early settlers from going through, forcing them around. But not the road department, which simply blasted through and put a four lane superhighway in place.

There actually is a river gorge there for the San Rafael River, so they had something to start with. And there were viewpoints for both sides of the road through the swell. It was beautiful, and the terrain around it was fantastic as well, and standing there (after hitting the bathroom of course) I was glad that I came this way to see this wonder. I also stopped at the Black Dragon Canyon view area ahead, to see more fantastic formations. And then it was west, ever west, and the mountains that had appeared, coming closer every mile.

Snows off the roads.

I hadn’t realized there were such mountain ranges in Western Utah. A long ridge running from north to south as far as could be seen. And every on with snow on them. Wishing I had researched this better, I kept hoping for the road to turn south and avoid going over the mountains. The road didn’t read my thoughts, or just decided to not listen, because it was looking more and more like I was going into those snowcapped mountains, and I started to worry about snow and ice on the roads. My GPS was set to altitude, and I kept climbing. Worse, I had to pass the Frankentrucks that had again passed me while I was looking at the San Rafael Swell and Black Dragon Canyon. This was forest country, no longer desert, and I could see how people would love to live here. But not drive. I made it through a couple of passes in which the temperature dropped, crossing my fingers, and made it into a long valley between ridges where services abounded and there were real towns. Even a Walmart.

Me too.

By the time I hit the I-15 interchange, and saw that there were more mountains to the west, I decided to just shoot down the north-south interstate to Vegas. I might have missed out on some beautiful vistas, but there were still plenty this way. I hit the town of Beaver and got off to get some food for myself and the car. The convenience store had a large sign on front that said ‘I Love Beaver’. I went in to get some sodas for the road, and bought a small bumper sticker. I got into a conversation with the clerk, who knew very well what other people thought of their slogan (he laughed himself) and said they used to have a store called Beaver Liquor, which all it possibilities for humor. But a store with the same name in Colorado had sued them and they had to change the name.

From Beaver it was into St. George, with more beautiful formations along the way. I felt the urge for a bathroom break before hitting the gorge, but couldn’t find an exit with a convenience store that close. After one futile trip on an offramp that led to a residential neighborhood, I was back on I-15 with no relief. The gorge was beautiful this way through as well, a different view. I broke out the other end, thinking I could make it to the Piute Reservation Truck Stop to the south, not really recalling how far it was. I passed three truck parking areas (what was it about Nevada, where they don’t have regular rest stops for cars). Finally, I couldn’t hold it any longer, and got off on an offramp that led to more or less nothing but dirt trails out into the desert on both sides. I relieved myself, then looked over the narrow arch that ran a one lane road between the sides of the interstate. I guess there wasn’t enough traffic to warrant a real road.

I still stopped at the Piute Reservation Truck Stop and got a snack and a soda, then headed on. My GPS was telling me get off on Craig Rd and go West to hit the address of Comfort Inn. I got off, headed west for five miles, and there was no hotel there. I programmed the GPS again, this time to the name of the hotel, and had to drive the five miles back to the interstate and beyond. I was scoping out car washes on the way, since I would have to wash my rental before I turned it in. After checking in, I located a nearby car wash on the Google Maps, then went out to get something to eat and drive down to film the strip at night.

The plan was to film the strip going both ways, and I really wish I had stuck to that plan. I ran down N 5^th Street, which turns into Las Vegas Blvd. There were a lot of people out. It was St. Patty’s Day weekend, and the party was on. I went through the old city, with its now out of the way casinos, and then onto the main strip with all its mega-hotels and casinos. As said, people were everywhere, but no one tried to run across the street into traffic. I got some great vid, though I had to change batteries halfway through. Luckily I was stopped at a light for enough time to make the change. It took forty-five minutes to get through the strip. I was feeling really tired by that time, and decided to go to I-15 and shoot my way back to my hotel. It’s a decision I would soon regret.

I will be finishing up this serial blog next week with the last two installments. Now, a word about my writing, since someone is sure to ask when the next Exodus book is going to come out. I’ve had a lot of trouble coming up with a theme and a technological advancement for the next book, which was making it difficult to work on. A couple of weeks ago both the theme and the advancement became clear, and I’m hard at work on it. I’m predicting it will be out the week before DragonCon (Labor Day Weekend). Maybe a little earlier. That said, there are only going to be two more volumes in the series, three at most. I really want to move on to other things. I have ideas for fantasy, post apocalyptic and alternate history series. I may revisit the series with some more short story collections and some novels set in the early Empire. I have one fantasy finished. A Baen editor expressed interest in it, and so did an agent. The agent passed on it, and now I’m thinking I might not want to go through the submission process, waiting for up to a year, then another for it to get published, when I can get it out in the fall. I also have a book coming out in a new series, Kinship War, with Arc Manor, and a novel that will soon be released in the Four Horsemen Universe of Chris Kennedy and Mark Wandrey. I hope that answers all the questions.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Thirteen: Day Twelve: Canyonlands and Arches National Parks.

Posted by dougdandridge on July 17, 2018

Posted in: eBooks, Fantasy, History, Military, Past, science Fiction, self publishing, Travel, Writing. Tagged: Arches National Park, Canyonlands National Park, Moab, The Windows. 3 Comments

Sorry I haven’t been blogging lately. Just too much to do and not enough energy to do it all. But I need to finish off this series and get back to some writing blogs, along with a report on this year’s Liberty Con. So, here goes.

P1040278

Balancing rock off of Hwy 313.

The trip was nearing its end. It was Thursday of the second week. Friday I would be driving back to Vegas, then flying home of Saturday. But I still had a lot to see over those last two travel days. Today it was two national parks. I had visited both Arches and Canyonlands in July of 2017. Arches had been partially closed down by road work, and Canyonlands was worth another look, and, more importantly, a filming. It was overcast. So much for coming out to where it doesn’t rain. But I got what the day had to offer, and there was no use complaining about it. So, after breakfast at Denny’s I was off on the first part of the adventure, Looking for some sodas to drink on the drive. I stopped at the Chevron station just north of the Hwy 313, the road going out to Canyonlands.

P1040350

River flowing through Canyonlands.

There was almost no parking at the Chevron station, which also served as the point of entry to a private land four wheeler area. I finally got one, and bought a brace of diet cokes. I told the clerk a little about my adventures in the Mojave, and she said that the enclosed rides they used were much easier to handle. So maybe someday. Armed with caffeine, I headed back to 313. There is a dinosaur exhibit at the corner of the roads, Moab Giants. It looked interesting, but I only had so much daylight, and I put it down for another time. P1040323

View into the canyon at Canyonlands.

313 is a beautiful drive, with lots of cliffs, mesas, balancing rocks, switchbacks, everything you look for out west. Some of the switchbacks were twenty mile an hour roads with steep drop offs. At one point I had someone crowding behind me who wanted to go faster in the steep curve. I wasn’t having any of it, and drove at what I thought was a safe speed. After the switchbacks the terrain flattens out some, though there are still some cool mesas off to the north. I passed the entrance to Dead Horse Point State Park. Cool place, I’ve been there before, and you can read about it on one of my earlier blogs. Today I didn’t have time.

P1040361

Rains in the Canyon.

I told the ranger at the station that I had called ahead and requested no rain. His flat faced response was that we got what nature gave us. I stopped at the visitor center to look for a book. I found one on Utah Geology and added it to my collection. Outside it had started to drop sparse flakes of snow. As said before in an earlier blog, I’m not afraid of snow. In fact, I really like it, in moderation. What I don’t like is driving in it. I recall sliding out of control on a Tuscaloosa street after a winter storm. Fortunately, I didn’t hit anything. But that feeling of no control was something I really couldn’t stand. Heavy clouds were gathering to the northwest, and I decided I better start moving.

P1040383

Rock formations in Park Avenue, Arches.

One old guy was testing out his mountain bike, a couple of feet from a cliff. Insane, as it looked like he was barely in control, and that was a long drop off. Unfortunately, he was old enough he had probably already reproduced. I went down the road, stopping at the overlooks, filming and taking pictures. I went down a few of the roads I had missed my first time through, like the one to the Green River Overlook. At one I saw a lady carrying at cat to the viewing point. I yelled out, ‘is that a cat?’ ‘Yes,” she yelled back. ‘He likes the view.’ I guess it takes all kinds, and I hope the poor kitty didn’t jump out of her arms to go over a cliff.

P1040391

One of the Windows, Arches NP.

At the Green River Overlook I met up with a group of people with Notre Dame regalia. I asked if they went there and received an affirmative. I said ‘maybe someday you’ll beat us.” When they asked who ‘us’ was, I said ‘FSU’, and received a chorus of groans. Man, I have so much fun on these trips.

P1040290

And arch in the making. Arches NP.

The Grand Canyon is spectacular in a different way here than in the Grand Canyon National Park. The rocks aren’t as colorful, but the canyon is much wider, and two rivers come together to make one. Well worth the trip, but if you had to choose I would say go to the park in Arizona. At the final overlook I saw the worrisome sight of heavy clouds moving my way across the canyon, while the wind gusted. Dark rain was falling, looking for all the world like a cloud burst. I filmed it for a little time until I thought it was time to get to the car. I had no desire to be soaked to the bone in forty some degree temperatures. I sat in the car, which was rocking a bit from the wind gusts, waiting. And the rains never came. I got out to look and saw that it was now heading up the canyon.

P1040420

A pair of windows. Arches NP.

The day was not the best for video taping or photography, but as the ranger said, we get what nature gives us. Now snowflakes were falling again, and I decided it was time to head out and check out Arches. As I was driving through the park entrance the snow really started coming down. It was sticking and building up on the ground beside the road, but was not sticking on the asphalt yet. The temperature kept dropping, until it was just above freezing, and I was starting to worry that I might have gotten caught in a snowstorm. I made it through the switchbacks, and soon the snow was far behind me. It was time for something to eat, for both myself and the car. I had to drive into Moab, and stopped at the 7-11. I was on my way to Arches.

P1040416

The Balancing Rock. Arches NP.

It was about three in the afternoon when I pulled up to the entrance of Arches. I asked the ranger if it was snowing up on the plateau, and she replied that no, but it had been snowing at Canyonlands. I told he I had been up there. She looked at my Florida license, said she could understand why that concerned me, and said ‘welcome to Utah.’ Another switchback up to the plateau that held the park, beautiful rock formations, then the first stop, at Park Avenue. The snowcapped mountains in the distance were beautiful. All of the road work was done. I got a good look at the formations of Park Avenue from both the front and the back, then moved on down the road, stopping at most of the pullovers to get shots of the next formations.

P1040293

Clifs, Arches NP.

I had to stop at Balancing Rock, even though I had gone over it fairly well on my last trip. A balancing rock is a formation where erosion has eaten away most of the top layer, leaving a single boulder that is still on top of the column of the lower layer. They are not permanent. I’m not sure how long they last. A thousand years? A hundred thousand? A million? There had been small balancing formation here that was the little buddy of Balancing Rock, but one winter it just fell. Next I headed out the The Windows, the pair of holes through the rock wall that I had photographed from a distance. Turns out there are more than the two. I saw a third nearby, and there was a triple arch in that formation. Not only are there a lot of arches down this way, but also a lot of places where the erosion was eating a hole in the cliff, the homes of future arches. I think I saw the most down in that region. It’s said there are over two thousands arches in the park. If so, they need to take more of them out of storage. I think I saw about twenty at most.

P1040432

Small hole. Arches NP.

I went down to the end of the main road, spotting a couple of more arches and windows. While this park was one of the more accessible ones I had visited, a lot of the arches still required hiking to see. I saw what I could, and by that time the sun was starting to get low in the sky. I headed back, and then the bicycles came. I understand that people like to bike, but a pair of the things, on a stretch with a forty mile an hour speed limit, holding up a dozen cars, was a little much. We finally all got our break though, and I was able to get around them. From there it was back to the motel, just as the sun was setting. Tomorrow was the last big day of exploration. I would be driving across Utah and back to Vegas, and there was a lot of stuff to amaze me along the way.

Next UP: Part Fourteen, Day Thirteen: The Drive Back to Vegas.

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.

Doug BrotherofCats Dandridge

Science Fiction and Fantasy Writer's Site

Exodus 14 is out, and other news.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Fifteen: Day Thirteen: Disaster on I-15.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Fourteen: Day Thirteen: From Moab back to Vegas along I-70 and I-15.

The Third Trip Out West, Part Thirteen: Day Twelve: Canyonlands and Arches National Parks.

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.

Recent Posts

Archives

Meta

Like me on Facebook

Follow me on Twitter

Follow Blog via Email

Follow Me On Goodreads

Sign Up For My Newsletter