This is a Lake? Hummingbird; Glen Canyon Dam; Lake Powell; Antelope Canyon

On a bike ride on the Kaibab Plateau, we passed a sign for Jacob Lake. Now I don’t mean to be mean, but would you call the 50 foot wide puddle that My Lovely Bride is pointing to a “lake”? You can't even see what little water there is from here! I submit that “sinkhole” or “cattle wallow” would be a more appropriate appellation, but who am I to judge? Maybe here in Arid Arizona this qualifies as a lake...

Back at the campground, Suzanne caught this Broad-tailed hummingbird (Selasphorus platycercus) sitting on a feeder trying to decide on which breakfast to order... they feed on nectar and insects. Males tend to be promiscuous, which actually ensures the survival of the species, but after a pair mates, the male departs and the female raises the young on her own. (Males do not receive the Audubon Society's Good Parenting Award.) These little birds are about 3-4 inches in length, and have adapted to cold mountain climates by being able to selectively enter torpor, slowing its heart rate and dropping its body temperature. (Note: males of the species Homo sapiens may also display torpor [and sometimes stupor] when spoken to by their wives or while watching football on TV.) 

We departed the high Kaibab Saturday morning and headed for Page, Arizona, but the primary, most direct road was closed. For... maintenance? No. Road work? No. Annual cleaning? No. In February, the road collapsed. There is a 25 ft deep crevice (partially shown here) that makes it difficult for motor coaches to traverse. But not to worry, there is an alternate route, which only required an extra hour of driving...

We crossed towering Glen Canyon Dam on our way to nearby Page, AZ. Creation of the dam back in the late 1960s created Lake Powell, the second-largest man made lake/reservoir after Lake Mead (Hoover Dam). The 710 ft high dam is an imposing sight, and certainly a marvel of civil engineering. 

The Glen Canyon dam is also a major hydroelectric generation facility. These power line towers are the largest I've ever seen. 

Lake Powell is also a major boating area, with most people opting for houseboats and power boats. It is over 200 miles from one end to the other, and the scenery is certainly spectacular. 

We are staying for three days at the Page, Arizona, Elks Lodge, for $15 per night vs. $45 at a commercial campground with the same facilities.  This lodge's RV area is well-equipped with 50 and 30 amp electrical connections and water, both of which are in high demand because of the brutal heat (we saw 105F yesterday, but it's a dry heat... yeah, like that makes a lot of difference when you're suffering from sunstroke!) To beat the heat, we opted for early rev on Saturday morning (0545, not too bad considering dawn arrives at 0506, which is more than a little rude). We wanted to get an early start kayaking on Lake Powell before the heat set in. Here we are at the boat ramp (1/4 mile long from the parking lot to the water). 

We set out to Lower Antelope Canyon, where at first we enjoyed some solitude between towering sandstone cliffs with only occasional birds for company. 

I mentioned to My Lovely Bride that this was the first boat trip when I had to worry more about falling rocks than storms or high waves. This was the view straight up from my kayak.

We paddled to the head of navigation, this beach where a 40 minute trail up the slot canyon began. Since we were wearing Teva sandals, we weren’t planning on a very long hike in 100F temps. 

On the hike, we saw this well-camouflaged lizard. Natural selection is an awesome process; he was almost invisible against the sandstone. 

Then these desert lilies (I think) caught our attention. They were less well camouflaged, but perhaps that was to get bees and hummingbirds to collect their nectar and spread their seeds farther afield?

The highlight of our stay here in Page, however, came today with a photographers' tour of Antelope Canyon. It was truly a spiritual experience. You cannot visit Antelope Canyon without leaving stunned with the grandeur of our natural world and God’s creativity. Here are just three of our photos; please visit Suzanne’s Facebook page for more. I will also have a longer write-up about this magical canyon in tomorrow's blog. 

Colorado River; Grand Canyon; Trains and Elevators; Three Flats?

Wednesday was a hard travel day, only 225 miles but 5 long hours on narrow, rough, two lane roads with periodic construction, and a 4,000- foot climb from the Colorado River at Lee’s Ferry to the high Kaibab Plateau and our campground. This was the view crossing the Colorado River, where rafting trips set out on their long, bumpy, wet voyages through the Grand Canyon. It looks serene from here, at least on this stretch of the river...  

This craggy peak looks like something out of a Hollywood fantasy movie. 

And this roadside arch, outside the national park, is a great place for a picnic lunch. Plus, there is no entrance fee.

Okay, train enthusiasts, here is a question (for which I don’t have the answer, because we don’t have Internet here - we actually have to drive 20 miles round trip just to send email!). We passed these electric locomotives (painted with BM & LP markings) hauling empty cars. The strange thing was the electric power. These are the first electric locomotives I’ve seen out west, other than on the passenger lines in California. Can anyone tell me if this is a private line, and what they are hauling? 

I am still trying to figure out what rides the conveyor belt up to the top of this elevator; it surely isn’t grain, because this is the high desert, not the Great Plains of Kansas or Nebraska. 

We are always looking for potential good deals in real estate; this fixer upper needs a little work, and the hundred ton boulder it is attached to isn’t going to be easy to adapt to a Cape Cod-style cottage... 

We are now nestled among stands of tall Ponderosa pines, a welcome change from the bare desert scenery we’ve experienced for the past few days.  There is still plenty of dirt around, and the pups become little dust mops every time we take them outside.

We toured the Grand Canyon’s North Rim yesterday, and it was even more impressive than the South Rim, mainly because here we are 1,700 feet higher than where 90% of the tourists go. You look out over the 10 miles separating the North Rim from the South, and a mile below to the bottom of the canyon, and you feel insignificant, maybe like an ant, when you think that the sedimentary rock at the bottom of the canyon is hundreds of millions of years old, while mankind has only been around for 75,000 years. 

As you can see, the Ponderosa pine trees make it much greener here on the Kaibab Plateau, whose highest point on the North Rim, Imperial Point, reaches 8,800 feet.  

“Okay, Sweetheart, let’s move about six feet to your left and look down...” 

“Now it’s your turn, Ty, lean back a bit...” 

The strong, gusty winds along the rim tend to twist the pines into bizarre shapes, and many are ripped out of their precarious holds on the cliff edges. (Fortunately, that didn't happen when this gorgeous gal was sitting there posing...)  

The Jacob Lake Inn, near our campground, has been in the same family for 90 years, and started as a trading post dealing with the local Navajo Tribe. The current owner, John Rich, gave a presentation on Navajo culture and weaving last night, and it was very informative and interesting. Rugs are woven on hand-operated looms by women from 5-92 years of age, and it is a dying craft/art form, since the patterns are not written down and are based on Navajo legends that have been passed down verbally through the generations. Since many young Navajo are not learning their native language, it may be a matter of only a few generations before the best weavers are only a memory. 

Our PT today was a mountain bike ride - but before we departed, I had to fix Suzanne’s rear tire, which had gone flat. I had three spare tubes, so no sweat. Tube 1: failed to inflate for more than a few minutes. Okay, Tube 2: held pressure for about 2 minutes. Tube 3: finally held pressure for 30 mins, then I had to pump it up again. I am not sure, but I think I may have uttered a “sailor word” or three during my travails.  These three tubes were all purchased at the same time, so it might have been a bad lot from (where else?) China. Finally we got underway and had a tough ride up and down jeep trails and fire roads along a nearby ridge that tops 9,000 feet.  The real sailor words came from Suzanne when the tire went flat again in the middle of a 300 yard climb.  She chugged away, not realizing why the hill seemed harder than ever. (And believe me, it wasn't "It's Popeye the Sailor Man..." that I heard...)

Third Plural Wife? Shoulder Work; The Kiss; Mars; "Wuss"; Two Feet Away; A Roadside Maiden

We have been in Utah, which has a somewhat checkered history with regard to polygamy (actually polygyny, since only Mormon males were allowed to have multiple spouses). I thought that the male pioneers who came to this unforgiving land might have had a practical reason for wanting several wives (more helping hands, more kids to run their farms, etc... I won’t get into the “more fun” part, because there are too many heavy items near to hand that My Lovely Bride might sling my way.) As it turns out, it was actually a religious interpretation by LDS church leadership, who made up most of the male side of the polygamy equation. Its heyday was from the 1850s until 1890, when the church repealed the practice under pressure from the US government. At its peak, only 20-25% of the LDS adult population were members of polygamous households. Polygamy was brought to mind when we passed this historic homestead in Moab. On the National Register of Historic Places, this log cabin was built by the first bishop of Moab, Randolph Stewart, for his “third plural wife”, Marietta, about 1881. It is not known whether Marietta was lodged in these quarters either happily or for a long period, but it’s not exactly what one would call a love nest, even in the rugged pioneer days of the 19^th Century...  

Perhaps as a result of our brief discussion on “plural wives” (which may have struck a sour note with My Lovely Singular Bride), as we were driving down the road, I swear I heard her tell me that (1) I needed to get in better shape; (2) to stop the car now and pull over; and (3) to “assume the position and drop and give me 20”... she claims to have “no recollection” of such a conversation, but there I was...  

When I glanced up and saw these skid marks: I wasn’t too sure about what was around this steeply diving bend in the road, but figured since Suzanne was driving, she could handle it.  

Rodin didn’t carve these rocks, but they reminded me of The Kiss nevertheless. The top of the one on the right also reminds me of Donald Trump’s comb-over... 

For miles and miles in between small towns like Blanding, Bluff, and Monument Valley, Utah, you could look out the window and not see a single house, tree, blade of grass or animal. Except for a few scattered shrubs, the landscape was like what you might expect to find on Mars... 

We passed a couple on bikes, pedaling very slowly up a steep 8% grade past a small dam on the San Juan River. The guy had a trailer behind his bike with a big dog in it and their packs. We must have been 20 miles from the nearest town and the scorching sun had temps up to 100F. I told My Lovely Bride, “As much as I love bicycling, I don’t want to pop out of the coach and join them...” “Wuss...” 

These road workers trimming what serves for grass around here were very close to becoming traffic hazards. Why weren’t they wearing orange vests? 

We finally topped a rise and saw Monument Valley spread out majestically before us... it was a surreal moment, especially with My Lovely Bride’s feet silhouetted in the foreground... What a way to see the country!  

Neither of us had ever before seen Monument Valley, except in John Wayne movies or travel books. We checked into our campground, and that’s The Coach in the foreground, with a nice view out into the valley! 

We took a drive and paid our fee at the Navajo Nation Tribal Park entrance for the 17 mile self-guided road tour... and soon found that you almost need a four wheel drive or mountain bike to safely manage the “road” which is mostly a very uneven rock and dirt surface. After a half hour (about 4 miles) we admitted defeat and turned around, having seen all we needed of the monuments. The rest of the tour wasn’t worth potential damage to our car... this was the best (and only flat) part of the road. 

There was one lovely maiden sitting on a rock that I invited back to The Coach for a glass of wine... and she accepted... it was my lucky day! 

This large hunk of sandstone is called (what else?) The Right Mitten. 

Back at the ranch (actually, our campground), we met charming and fun new neighbors, Nick and Barbara. Nick is a former pilot (naval aviator in A-4, A-7 and F-18 jets and later commercially at Continental Airlines) and Barbara was a teacher. Their son served in the Marines and their daughter is a Navy F-18 instructor pilot. We had a lot of similar experiences in the Navy and traveling around the world for Uncle Sam. They have been full-timing in their beautiful RV for two years. We traded lots of sea stories and laughs with them, and hope they will visit us in The Villages some day. 

"Falling Rocks"; Puff Balls; Bubba's RV; Mama's New Shoes; Bakery Delights

Okay, we are walking down the trail in Arches National Park, and I hear, “Ty, look out for that falling rock!”  THUD...  What the heck? Where did that rock come from? (Just kidding, but it makes for a great gag photo, don't you think? What do you mean, I have a strange sense of humor? I am insulted...) 












This is our second visit to Moab, Utah, and we are again awe-struck by the raw beauty of the sandstone arches and palisades here. It's been awhile since we've had flowers in the blog, and as you are aware, I don't know my plants very well. But I do recognize beauty, and this puff ball looking specimen caught my eye, and I asked My Lovely Bride to photograph it. One of the advantages of being retired is that we have plenty of time to "stop and smell the roses" and not have to worry (so much, anyway) about keeping to a schedule. 







We found these pretty orange flowers along the same trail. They are living in a very sandy area about 50 yards from a stream, but you wonder how they get enough water to survive. Temperatures today are in the high 90s, and will rise another 10-20 degrees over the next month, although it will drop into the 60s and 70s overnight. Most of the local critters are nocturnal, finding a hole or a big rock to hide under during the brutally hot part of the day. The young kids out camping in tents can rough it in the heat, but us more mature adults opt for Plan B, air conditioning.







We have taken two sunset drives through Arches NP for two reasons: 1. It’s cooler then for our puppies to walk around the view point parking areas (they aren’t allowed on the trails), and 2. the colors are more vivid at sunrise and sunset. (Did I hear someone ask, “Ty, why don’t you get up early and be out there for sunrise?” The answer: “Elementary, My Dear, sunrise is at 0554, before 6:00 AM civilian time, and no one with any common sense is up then.”) 

Particularly impressive is Balance Rock, a 35,000 ton hunk of sandstone sitting atop a base of mudstone, which erodes 2 or 3 times as fast as the harder sandstone above. It will be a very short time (a few decades, perhaps) before Balance Rock falls to the ground atop the "melting" base that supports it today. 

Moab is not only a tourist destination, but also a hippie and dropout haven. It also has its share of unusual characters... This innovative recreational vehicle combination was seen on the side of the road in town. I believe the plates were from Arkansas, but they were covered in mud and not very legible. "Mr. and Mrs. Bubba Clampett’s" original design receives an “A” for ingenuity, but a “D” for aesthetics...  I was on my way over to introduce myself and ask their names for the blog, but those legs you see on the other side of the trailer belong to two apparently very hungry pit bulls, and discretion being the better part of valor, I declined to become their dessert...

Moab is very famous for their mountain biking trails, and My Lovely Bride has achieved a new level of expertise in this strenuous and sometimes dirty sport. This was a result of her suggesting that we get new bike shoes with built-in cleats to attach to special pedals. They increase your power strokes, especially going uphill, but you have to be quick enough to twist your foot out of the cleat if you experience an "unintentional dismount", also known as a "fall". Lest you think that this is an uncommon occurrence, let me assure you that I have had my fair share of unintentional dismounts recently... most actually occur going uphill, when you misjudge the steepness of the rocky trail you're going up. More speed actually helps get you over the bumps, so to speak... 

Lastly, I would like to recognize the Sweet Cravings Bakery and Bistro here in Moab, where we are now using the Internet to upload this blog entry. (The Wi-Fi at our campground is too slow for this purpose.) Here are Barbara and J.R. (no relation to the villain of "Dallas"). Barbara's daughter Cinda is hard at work in their bakery out back. Their all-fresh-made treats are terrific, and if you're ever in Moab, please drop by for some of their goodies!

Hiking Moab; Mountain Biking; Arches NP; Rappelling

Well, now that we are down to 4,000 feet in Moab, Utah, Corvette Chick has recovered from her altitude fatigue. She took me out mountain biking yesterday at the Moab Brands Trails, an area designed for beginner to intermediate riders. The trails have names such as Rockin’ A, Lazy Easy, Killer B, Bar M, Rusty Spur and Deadman’s Ridge. Here is Our Heroine, looking fresh at the top of a relatively easy climb. 

After half an hour, I was starting to sweat, but My Lovely Bride wasn’t even glistening. We were on top of a small rise and took the path whose sign read “Cliff option”. She was chuckling as I looked over the edge of this cliff and said, “Sweetheart, I think maybe we took a wrong turn back there... I would like to pass on this optional descent.” I think I heard her mutter, “You are such a wuss...”, but I couldn’t be sure because of the squawking vultures circling just over my head in anticipation. 

Even after an hour and a half, she was still fresh - part of this can be attributed to the amazing scenery, like the red rock cliffs backdropping this photo. But we also met a nice couple on the ride who are really hard core - a few days ago they had completed a 50 miler in Durango, Colorado, at 11,000 feet. Having role models like that gives you an extra boost. 

So, still feeling chipper, Suzanne decided to ride the 8 miles back to town on a beautiful paved bike path; I drove the car back with my bike on a rear carrier. Now, lest you think that she is a real Amazon, I have to disclose that all but a few hundred yards of that ride are downhill through a gorgeous canyon with a 7% grade and signs limiting bikes to 20 mph. She was exhilarated when she arrived back at The Coach (before me!), saying that she indeed had to ride her brakes to keep her speed down to a safe level. I got to do that same ride this morning, and it was a great rush (in several ways). 

We also got a delightful six mile hike in today on the Negro Bill Trail leading to the Morning Glory natural Bridge, at 243 feet long, the sixth longest arch in the country. (Okay, so the trail name may not be politically correct, but it is historically accurate, and is named for William Granstaff, the first black American in Moab, who grazed his cattle here in the late 19^th century). Here is Suzanne in her Bwana Babe hat negotiating a slickrock section of the trail. Don’t worry, she was surefooted as a mountain goat, and it was only a 20-30 foot drop to the rocks below... 

The trail follows a beautiful creek through the canyon, and you can see where the rushing water has undercut the rock over the millennia. 

There were a couple of places where you had to scramble up the rocks; it is actually easier going up than down, because gravity wants to help you come down faster, not always a good thing. 

The arch itself was impressive, but even more so were the young college kids rappelling down 120 feet from the arch to the ground below. They had hiked in 5 miles to make the rappel, and were having a blast. My Lovely Bride asked if I wanted to give it a try; I said, no, I think it’s time to go have a glass of wine instead...