Bryce

When you are in Zion National Park, you are at the bottom of the canyon looking up. In Bryce Canyon National Park you are at the top of the precipice looking down.  The colourings in the rocks are similar, but these two parks are 50 miles apart, and divided by very nondescript pine covered hills and farmlands.

It is also much colder.  You are at a higher elevation, and among the elks and snow of the tall mountains. We looked at it as a precursor to going back home. 

Acclimatizing ourselves, so to speak.

As you are driving into the park, you see formations along the road called ”hoodoos”. These were originally sandstone walls that were cracked by ice and worn away by wind and rain, creating spires and balancing rocks. 

Inside the park boundaries you drive even further up the snow covered slopes, leaving those shapes behind you. Until you get to the overlook and look down over the wall.

Below the rim of the rounded cliff is a fairyland of red and white spires and castles, complete with windows and arches. 

You’ll notice by the picture that this is not a canyon.

I believe it is called Bryce Canyon because of all the smaller canyons between the rows of hoodoos at the bottom of the cliffs. 

And among those tiny canyons are park trails so that you can get up close and personal with these wind-created art forms.

The trails going down into the canyons are much better in my view than the ones in Zion. They are not exactly gradual, but they are not precipitous. The hard sand walkway is wide and mostly even. And even better, the lower you go, the warmer it is!

Getting closer to the sandstone pillars, you can see the intricate details etched into the stone.

Along the bottom of the canyons, it feels like you are walking among giants with their heads in the clouds and their feet firmly rooted in the ground. From the top they appeared small, but down below them you realize how big they are, and wonder why they don’t collapse from their own weight.

In your imagination you can also see castle ruins and statuary.

But the problem with going down into a canyon from the top is that eventually you have to go up to get back out. 

Considering that we had a long and gracefully winding descent, we were surprised to see the switchbacks that we had to climb to get back up.

Our frequent stops to breathe gave us the chance to take pictures of the turrets and spires closer to the top. And the people below us, still puffing away.

There were many more trails we could have taken, but after the finish of the first, we called it a day.

A great day, mind you, but a day none the less.

W

Zion

Zion National Park is not for people who are afraid of heights.  Makes you wonder why I came. Makes me wonder why I had asked my dear hubby, years ago, to push me out of my comfort zone. Because, darn it, he keeps doing it.

Most of the scenic roads and all of the campgrounds in Zion are at the bottom of the canyons. All of the hiking is done by climbing up into the canyon walls and along cliffs.

Granted, you can get some amazing views once you climb up those trails. Providing you can take your eyes off the rocks that are out to trip you up along the trail. Or at least, that was the way I perceived it. Actually, several of the trails are as wide as a sidewalk, and a few are even paved. It is like walking up the sidewalks of Manhattan, with the tall towers on both sides of you. Except that the streets of Manhattan aren’t many hundreds of feet below the sidewalk. That was my sticking point. I just couldn’t get over the drop if I stepped off the curb.

But there is beauty in abundance. Sheer cliffs in shades of red, yellow, and white. And a wide variety of trails to hike, although most of them caution drop offs, either minor or “long” – which means up to a thousand feet high or more – and a few that say not for those with a fear of heights, or for children. I'm sure I fit into one of those descriptions.

We were there for seven days, and went hiking a different route every single day. 

One of us even did the most challenging of all the approved hikes, Angel’s Landing.

This hike started out paved and mild, so I’m told, going gradually up into a slot canyon beside the Angel’s Landing peak. Then the trail came to “Walter’s Wiggles”, a series of hairpin turns, sidewalk style. At the top of this drunken walk was a landing area. 

Or a takeoff area, depending how you look at it. For after this brief respite, the trail follows the very narrow ridgeline up to the peak. On both sides, the ground falls away straight down for 2000’. The park allowed a chain to be erected as something to hold  onto during the steepest and narrowest sections. You’d better have a good grip. Obviously not on your sanity, or you wouldn’t be there in the first place. But that chain is your lifeline.

I’m told the view from up there is unsurpassed anywhere in the park, a 360 degrees view overlooking the whole Zion Canyon.

So be it. I will take their word for it. I’d be too busy worrying about how I was supposed to get back down.

The trails I did do usually took about 3 hours, and although they had their own challenges, they had their own stunning vistas as well. 

Towering peaks in brilliant shades, lush valleys halfway up the canyon walls, deep crevices in an otherwise sheer rock wall, unexpected arches and caves around corners.

The rock formations are the masterpieces of this natural art gallery. From subtle brush strokes to bold colours on the canvas of the hillsides. And sculptures on the cliffs created by wind and water.

In the middle of March, the temperatures are cool. Just below freezing at night, it does not warm up until after noon. The tall walls of the canyon keep the sun out until 10am or later. There were places that were so narrow that the sun didn’t get in directly, but was only reflected off the sheer canyon wall that was facing south. Not much heat in that, I’ll tell you. And by the time we got back to the trailer, exhausted and exhilarated with our trek, the sun was disappearing behind the mountain on the other side, and it was cool again.

That didn’t stop us from enjoying our walks. We dressed up warm, and ignored the college kids on March break doing the same trail in shorts and tees. We hiked up to overlooks. We followed river trails along the bottom of the canyon, crisscrossing the same stream numerous times. We dodged the water falling from a crevice above us that created a beautiful garden of maidenhair ferns right on the canyon wall. We had picnic lunches in safe places away from ledges and in the sunshine. We had a wonderful time.

We saw more wildlife than we had expected, especially because this is a very busy place. People are everywhere on the roads and the trails. But we saw several mule deer in the valley, a herd of bighorn sheep climbing the rocks, and a bald eagle high overhead.

On the way out of the park, we had to pass through a mile long tunnel that was bored right through granite rock in the ‘30s. Back then, they hadn’t dreamed that people would be driving these monstrous RVs on their visit here, so the tunnel is low and narrow compared to today’s standards. That means that park officials have to stand at each end to monitor the vehicles going through. If you are over a certain height or width, they clear the tunnel so that you can drive straight through the middle. There are even some luxury motorhomes that just don’t fit at all and are denied passage. There are also absolutely no lights in the tunnel. Along the mile length, they were only able to cut 3 windows into the rock, and other than your headlights, that is all the light that you can get.

It was an amazing week in an incredible place.

Thanks for the push, hubby.

W

Valley of Fire

After our brief look at this vibrant State Park during the week that we were in Las Vegas, we decided to take a couple of days to explore it further. It was 10 hours of driving to get there from Fresno, California, along major highways and through several cities, including Las Vegas. We got to the main gate before the closing time of 5pm, but were much too late to get any electrical sites. That’s okay, we wanted to try “dry camping” anyway, especially because hubby had purchased a new generator just for this type of event, and was dying to try it out. It was one of the toys, um, tools he had picked up last fall.

There was a circular road in the campground with sites side by side, and at the far end was a branching road that wound through the rocks. We couldn’t see where that other road ended up and didn’t want to attempt it in case there was no easy way out of it. So we choose one of the sites in the circle. These sites were not made for big RVs and our longer trailer would not have fit. Good thing we brought the shorter one. We could just squeeze the truck in sideways in front of it.

My first impression once we settled was one of peace. Far from the generator noise I had anticipated, and the electronic hum of electric sites, there was beautiful silence. Stunning red rocks encircled the camping area. Even though most of the sites in our area were occupied, everything was quiet. Later in the evening, while campfires burned, subdued voices and laughter echoed off the surrounding rocks, but were not intrusive. 

The next morning we were up early and decided to walk along the road that branched off of the campground. It was then that we realized our error of not following it the night before. The sites along this road were more spacious and longer and also much more private from their neighbors. The road itself curved around and came back out on the access road we drove in on. While very long rigs would have had a hard time negotiating the narrow, rocky turns, our outfit would have been perfect. Maybe next time. 

After our breakfast we dashed off to do some hikes in this beautiful area. The trails are usually easy to follow, being a mixture of sand and rocks. We descended one rockfall and walked through a narrow canyon to come out the other side. 

It was incredible, the kaleidoscope of colours around us. White and red streaks in the rocks were the dominant shades, but there were also pinks, yellows, and gorgeous lavender stones as well.

All this was in a valley that is surrounded by grey mountains, known as the Muddy Mountains. What a great hiding place!  

A favourite walk for many is the Fire Wave. It is one big platform of rock, in swirling shapes and colours.  As you walk over and around the area, you see different views. All of them amazing.

 

  One section looked like someone had spilled paint on the top and it ran down the sides. 

In others the streaks were right underfoot.  

We also saw petroglyphs etched into rocks. These were very high off the ground and it made you wonder how the ancients had managed to put them there. 

But you understood why they had wanted to come there. Valley of Fire is a lovely state park.  

And then we met her big sister, Zion National Park.

W

Leaving Before We're Kicked Out

I think it’s time to leave.

After two full months of her house in turmoil, my sister-in –law is bound to kick us out if we don’t make the first move. 

We emptied her living room and put all the furniture, save for the essential couch and tv, into the garage.  Her home was infused with the incense of fresh paint. You could never be sure that the closest bathroom was in working order. Air vents could fall from the ceiling with no warning.

And all she wanted was new flooring.

I’m horrible at getting “before” pictures.  I rarely get the chance to take them. Hubby tends to jump in with both feet before my feet are even in the doorway. In running to catch up, the best I can do is to document the chaos that follows.

The logic goes like this: If we’re going to change the living room carpet, we may as well paint the room first. The walls of the living room flow into the kitchen, stairway and upstairs hall with no break.

Unlike my multi-disciplined hubby, I’m pretty single talented. I can paint. So I had very little chance of getting away with a California holiday this winter.

Once the painting was done, we removed the old, and now splattered, carpet. With the carpet removed, we ordered the laminate flooring that was going to replace it. Hmmm, it’s a two week wait for the order.  No worries.  The irresistible force moves on.

While waiting for the living room flooring to arrive, it was decided to put new stick-on tiles over the old kitchen linoleum, since the kitchen had also been painted. There were enough tiles left over to do the two small bathrooms and the toilet stall in the master bath. But since that involves removing toilets, we replaced the old toilets, and, hey, why not the sinks, too. And if you change the sinks, you might as well get new faucets, right?

In the old story of the knee bone being connected to the hip bone, if we don’t leave soon, dear sister-in-law may be paying for a whole new house.

I think it’s time to leave.

W

PS. The house looks beautiful.  Sister-in-law breathes a sigh of relief.

Diners and Joynts

We haven’t eaten out much on this trip to California. And I am far from being a creditable food critic. I eat what’s put in front of me, usually by my enthusiastic, stove-warmed hubby. He decided many long years ago that what I considered cooking, just wasn’t, and so he took the high road of making the meals for both of us.

But there were a few times that we paid for the honour of someone else standing over the hot stove.  A late meal at Olive Garden after a long evening at Home Depot looking at porcelain thrones.  A pizza after painting the kitchen.

And then there are the meals to remember. 

We took the ferry to San Francisco with friends, and although throughout the boat ride we were enveloped in the famous bay fog, once on land, the sun encouraged us to walk the two miles to our destination restaurant. Tommy’s Joynt had been featured on the TV show “Diners and Dives”. What better reason to try it ourselves?

We almost overlooked it on the street, even though it was right on the corner. Impressive, it wasn’t. The food was served cafeteria style, and the main dining area had picnic tables where singles and groups alike would sit. It was dark and gloomy inside, and the doorway was partially blocked by a few people lining up for food.

As a foursome, we scored a booth in the back and were immediately greeted by the bar waitress. Actually, I should have said “beer waitress” because although they did have a small wine list, the beer stock was amazing.  And that lovely lady knew every beer they had, what country it came from, and what it was like.  I can imagine that training new employees for that job would take on the atmosphere of a party.

We arrived on purpose on the day they were serving braised lamb. The meat was falling-off-the-bone tender, and the helpings were large. We dallied over our lunch, enjoying the portions, the pints, and the people we were with.

The next great meal was a lot farther up the coast, and on the edge of a bay well known for its oyster farms. Hog Island Oyster Co. provides the very basic necessities to enjoy their wares. A picnic table, a grill, and a shucking knife and glove.  Our friends, obviously frequent visitors, supplied the niceties.  Like the wine and glasses, the bread and cheese, and the garlic butter, lemon and wine vinegar for the oysters and clams. It was a veritable feast when we added the shrimp skewers, salmon filets, and grilling vegetables to the list. When the bright sunshine came out to lift both spirits and temperature, it was just like the garlic butter on the oyster for us.

Now, I admit that I am a total newbie when it comes to oysters. I had no idea that there were so many ways to enjoy them. The first few were slurped down raw, with a drop of lemon. The taste comes not from the oyster, which is pretty rubbery and bland, but from the brine of the sea water inside. Then we roasted some over the coals. If you put them on just the way they come, they will pop open themselves when they are cooked. Or they can be opened and grilled over the barbeque with a garlic butter topping.

Opening an oyster is not an easy endeavour. First you have to find the opening. Now, oysters are not pretty and neat like clams. They are craggy and rough, and it is hard to tell whether it is the lip you are prying at, or just one of the many ridges.  Because of the sharp object poking at their shells, these shellfish keep their lips locked together as tight as a virgin’s knees…..  oops.  Teehee. Too many oysters today, I guess.

Well, to me, food is only the side dish after all. The company contributes more to the meal than the bounty on the table. And on this trip, we had family and friends that made our meals divine. Thanks, folks!

W

Bright Lights and Red Rocks

Vegas. 

A dazzling example of the phrase, “over the top”.

As we descended the hills towards Las Vegas, the lights sparkled in all directions and in all colours. Coming from the darkness of the empty desert mountains, the city seemed to encompass the entire valley.

We were lucky to get an overview of the Strip on our way along the highway. Close up, the lights were even brighter and more colourful than they had seemed from afar.

Las Vegas is not a large city.  As a metropolis, its residents merely number in the few hundred thousands.  But it took us two very full days and evenings to merely touch on the highlights of this exaggerated splendor.  To see as much as we could, we concentrated our adventures to the casinos with the biggest names. “If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all” doesn’t necessarily apply in this scenario. Each of the casinos on our list had their own quirks and charms. The only constant was being forced to walk through the smoky gambling areas in order to reach the interesting shops, the artistic displays, and the theatres.

Being the frugal retirees that we are, we searched out all the free entertainment available. There is an animated show in Caesar’s Palace, the delightful musical fountains of Bellagio, and the amusing antics of people that come to enjoy places like this. We hadn’t realized that our last few days fell on a long holiday weekend in the United States. Earlier in the week, a walk down the main street was comfortable and parking was easy to find. On Saturday, the eight solid lanes of traffic downtown and the masses of humanity squeezing themselves along the walkways and sidewalks made it hard to travel around. We found an early parking spot and walked the Strip for the rest of the day.

The Luxor was intriguing, with the Egyptian Sphinx and temple surrounded by the oblique interior walls of the pyramid. What looks small in the picture actually holds several stores and a large empty space for milling about. Also, to put it in perspective, the horizontal lines on the interior of the pyramid are the hallways to the hotelrooms.

NewYorkNewYork was actually fairly real to life, being closed in and dark, and with lots of little restaurants and cafes littering the promenade. It certainly felt like the streets of New York.

The Venetian was a favourite. The painted concave ceiling created the illusion of sky. The little storefronts along the streetscape were charming and we enjoyed watching the gondoliers poling their craft down the tiny indoor canal while occasionally bursting out in song. As you can see from the emptiness of the shops, this was early in the week.

Many of the casinos were starting to change their seasonal decorations to reflect the approaching Chinese New Year s. In honour of the Year of the Horse, statues of proud steeds and glittering stallions were positioned in the lobbies. We, however, were riding our feet. And those tootsies were getting very tired.  Very few restaurants struck our fancy. Most of the ones inside the casinos were overpriced and busy. A shrimp palace called “Bubba Gump Shrimp Co.” and another place known as “Cheesecake Factory” suited our tastes and our finances. Seems you can’t go wrong with seafood and dessert.

We saw two shows while in Vegas, a Celine Dion concert that showcased her powerful singing, and a very entertaining Cirque du Soleil show, “O”.  Both were extremely enjoyable. And Canadian.  Bonus.

The people we met, in seats beside us, or on the scenic overlooks on the roads, were often Canadian. In fact, there were a few that lived very close to our Ontario roots - a couple from Kingston, and a man from Tweed. Small world, indeed.

Meanwhile, we were very glad that our accommodations were well off the Strip. It was quieter and definitely calmer. It was also closer to other attractions that we appreciated after such overt largess, things a little more up our alley. Red Rock Canyon was an afternoon’s drive, but a whole world away from the glitter of downtown. Especially intriguing were the crossing signs for the desert tortoise and wild burros. Despite our best efforts, we saw neither one.

Another relaxing day was spent driving through the Valley of Fire State Park. We found a place to picnic near a short hiking trail where petroglyphs had been etched along the red canyon walls. There were many unique rock formations in vibrant colours all around us, and it was warm and sunny.  A perfect time and place for a picnic.

The lights of Vegas may rule the night, but as an early riser, I was more impressed by the brilliant red on the cliffs at dawn.

Talk about “over the top”.

W

Fixin' to stay

We did head north, but it was a much more leisurely trip than our last month of travelling. We finally had time to slow down and enjoy the ride. The weather was sunny and dry, warm in the afternoons and cool at night. Ideal weather for travelling the week before Christmas.

We drove up through the San Joaquin Valley, the green grocers of California. With mountains on both sides, this huge valley is flat and fertile. Big fields of crops are on both sides of the highway, intersected by the aqueducts bringing water from the mountains in the north.  Orchards of citrus and pistachio trees are planted in mechanically precise rows and stretch over large areas. Most fields and orchards are bare of any identifying marks, so the game going down the road is “what do you think is growing here?” Occasionally the name of the farm gives us an obvious clue, but rarely did we see anything as blatant as this citrus grove, which spelled out in big signs whether the trees were “lemon”, “orange”, or “mandarin”.

The aqueduct system was built in the ‘60s. An engineering marvel, it turned the valley from the semi-arid desert that it used to be into productive land. It spreads throughout the entire 450 mile length of the valley in a series of canals and pumping stations to get the water to agricultural fields and urban centers alike. Hubby, of course, merely looked on it as a likely place to do some fishing. Unfortunately for our dinner that night, the water was low and the only one successfully catching fish was a blue heron along the canal.

We stopped at the large San Luis Reservoir that holds the water before it flows down along the canals and aqueducts to the south. The state recreation area that surrounds the reservoir is used both for fishing and boating in the reservoir itself, and for hiking and camping in the hills around it. On our hike to the top of one of the hills, we were lucky enough to see a small sample of the elk that had been reintroduced into this area in 1974.

It was a short trip to our final stop of 2013.  The fridge in the trailer was emptied and our clothes moved out for the 2 months we plan to be here. The trailer is being stored, rather than us living in it this time. We settled into my sister-in-law’s house, taking full advantage of the washing machine (and hastily put up clothesline), the full size oven and the abundance of freezer space. It was nice to see how well the lawn and garden plants had thrived during the two years since we had been here last.

There will be a short break over the Christmas holidays, visiting family and sharing meals all around. Then it is down to business. I get to dabble in paint, and hubby will be putting all his energy into maintenance and organization.  

He does love to boss everyone around.

W