Coming Home

Ten states in eighteen days, five on the last day coming from Kansas to Wisconsin. I had to pinch myself over and over to remind myself that I was really there at the Grand Canyon. God's creation is overwhelmingly awesome. I love experiencing it up close and personal. And there was so much else that we barely glimpsed, so much to return for with more time. Someday I want to do a road trip that focuses on Native American sites and history like the cliff dwellers and other settlements. 

Other than Branson, MO, the weather was fine and dry. I had to slather my white scaly skin with eczema therapy cream last night before crawling into bed. I took my own pillow with me to make the various hotel rooms feel more "normal." Although Phoenix was in the upper 80s, mornings on the high plateau were cold, and we were glad for hats, gloves and heavy jackets. Also for my electric kettle that lets me make two thermoses of tea every morning with real boiling water and not hotel hot pot stuff that doesn't taste right. (So, I'm a tea snob.) We did two nights in most places other than the coming and going, but it still felt like we were packing in sightseeing every waking moment. I could have used a bit more down time. (But was not willing to skip those early morning hikes!) I was tired enough that I would not have objected to flying home from Phoenix with Mom if that had been necessary. It wasn't, and she did fine thanks to the great people who handle the airport wheelchairs. But I didn't blame her a bit for being worn out. This trip was almost as long as our three-week trek to Alaska and back in 2015, and she was only 90 then. 

On that trip I began passing the time in the car by knitting an afghan. Lately, I've been doing hats, a basic pattern with infinite color variations. Here are the results of this trip. (No knitting between Marble Canyon and Phoenix--too much to look at!)

It takes about an eight-hour day on the interstate to complete one hat. As you can see, I had balls of U of MN maroon and gold to play with.

At home, my yarn stays close to the TV. This year a bunch of hats went to Afghan refugees. The rest, along with these, will go to the local thrift store that supports the food bank. Then I will get started on next year's hats. 

It's a long two days crossing the Great Plains in an automobile. I can't imagine doing it on horseback or in a covered wagon. It must have seemed to take an eternity. And they had no truck stops or fast food to break up the tedium. Maybe some of them knit.

Until our next travel...

BTW, I welcome your comments on any of these posts, especially places you have visited yourself!

Santa Fe Trail (or at least, a small piece of it)

We are on our way home, but that doesn’t mean no more exploring. This morning we took the Santa Fe Trail (aka I-25) NW out of Santa Fe. As we raced along, I couldn’t help but imagine the shock of a time traveler landing here from the 19^th c. 

The wind was  bitter cold, but we made a couple stops at historic sites. The first was Pecos National Historical Park. Native Americans lived here for 12,000 years. At its peak in the 15^th c the community had more than 2000 residents. Sadly, the last 17 residents moved in with relatives in Jemez (where we were yesterday) in 1838.

The ruins were interesting for their extent, but not as cool to explore as the cliff dwellings we encountered yesterday in Bandelier National Monument.

This church was built in the 18th c, the third on the site. Foundations remain of the others.

I couldn't help but say a prayer for the descendants of the residents who were so wronged by those of us who called ourselves followers of Christ.

I love shooting through openings. The door to the south transept of the church was too much to pass up.

This kiva (an underground Native place for religious ceremonies) is a stone's throw from the church. I assume they weren't active at the same time, but archeology transcends time.

Our second stop, an hour or so down the road was Fort Union, built in the 1850s to protect the Santa Fe Trail. The national park staff were very knowledgable and chatty. They are eager to present all sides of the story and reminded us that the soldiers were protecting the immigrants from the local people who had lived there for millennia. The high flagpole could be seen a couple days out by travelers and must have given them hope that their journey would soon be at an end. But of course, that highly visible flag did not mean the same thing to the Native Americans living in the area. The parks department is currently preparing new displays where the local tribal groups can tell their own stories of the fort.

The hospital is the best preserved building.

The depot received goods to be distributed to forts all over the region--sort of a Walmart distribution warehouse.

The parade ground was in the center of the garrison--under completely separate command from the depot.

The Santa Fe Trail passed between the depot and the garrison. These clear ruts are from a spot a couple miles from the fort.

We pulled off for gas (hard to find in this part of the world) at Wagon Mound. According to the sign, it was the last major landmark on the trail west.

Lunch at another local cafe, this one in Springer, NM, just off the Trail. The town is small and we drove through the first time without seeing any sign of a cafe. Tried a different street and found a great little place with "New Mexican" food and burgers.

At Springer we turned east on US56, paralleling the more dangerous southern Cimarron route of the trail. Most of the rest of the day looked pretty much like this.

Can you imagine crossing that in a wagon?

Jemez Mountain Trail, NM

Santa Fe is a much smaller city than Phoenix even if it is the capital. As we started out on the day’s adventure this morning, Steve commented, “I could live here.” It's an interesting convergence of Mexican, Native American and cowboy/Anglo cultures with opera, symphony and museums. It seems like almost every road in the area is marked “scenic” and rightfully so. We chose to spend our day on the Jemez Mountain Trail, and it was an excellent choice.

First stop: Bandelier National Monument, and we could have spent the whole day there. It protects thousands of 12^th to 16^th c archaeological sites from the ancestral Pueblo culture. A 1.5 mile paved trail goes from behind the Frijoles Canyon Visitor Center. The trail passes through a circle of ancient stone houses that reminded me of a modern condominium complex.

I took this later from the cliffs so you could see the circle.

The cliffs are soft tuff from an ancient volcano, naturally eroded. The people enlarged holes into rooms and built houses against the cliffs to take advantage of them. Despite the cold of winter and heat of summer, the cliff houses maintained a regular comfortable temperature.

Here you can see the holes cut for roof poles all along the cliff.

Traditional ladders give access to a few of the houses.

When I climbed up to see inside, I kept thinking how much my grandkids would love this...and how nervous I would be with them exploring around the holes.

One of the side rooms in this same house.

After vowing to return with more time to explore the trails and investigate another ruin further up the canyon (which involves multiple ladders to get to it), we picnicked at the trailhead for Jemez Falls.

A lovely quarter-mile trail leads through the pines to the falls, and I concluded that this high wooded area would be a great place to camp with easy access back to the ruins we had been exploring in the morning as well as lots of trails.

We continued on NM4 as far as Jemez Springs. This outcropping is called Battleship Rock for obvious reasons.

We left much to explore on another trip, including a mineral swimming hole where bathing suits are optional.

We returned via Los Alamos which still has an elaborate collection of research centers. We had to pass through security to get into the town. Again we concluded that it needed way more time than we had to give to explore the museum.

Tomorrow we start home in earnest although we have one more scenic highway to explore as we go.

Phoenix to Santa Fe

I have been struggling to catch up ever since our three days in Marble Canyon with no Internet. Every day from Lee’s Ferry through Grand Canyon seemed to have too much to write about. Since leaving the South Rim on Saturday, things have slowed down. The primary reason to go to Phoenix was for Mom to visit her “baby” sister (age 82). We stayed in a lovely resort hotel and had lunch on Sunday with Carol in her cute little mobile home. We left Mom with her for the afternoon and came back later to pick her up.

Phoenix is lower altitude and further south from Grand Canyon. It was 30 degrees when we got up Saturday morning at the South Rim and 90 when we arrive in Phoenix in the afternoon. Phoenix is a huge sprawling city with heavy traffic. My mother had TB when she was in high school and wintered in Tempe in the late 1930s. Tempe is now a suburb of Phoenix. Mom died in 1997, but everything in me wanted to call her up as we whistled by the Tempe exits on the freeway and say, “Guess where I am!” After 80 years of changes, she would have recognized none of the town. But the mountains are the same. I remember how her voice would soften when she spoke of Superstition Mountain.

Steve's mom has been struggling with an infection. She was able to see someone at the well-equipped clinic at the South Rim, and she was feeling better, but it was clear that we had worn her out. Phoenix was our furthest point out. What remains is days and days in the car to get home. We ended up putting her on a plane Monday morning. Our daughter picked her up, got her some groceries and took her to her own apartment where she has spent only an occasional night since March of 2020. We have talked on the phone and she seems to be doing just fine.

 

We had an itinerary of scenic routes planned when we left the airport. Salt Canyon was a twisting switchback descent and climb up the other side on AZ60. 

 

As we entered the higher altitude the scenery changed to a forest of tall Poderosa pines. Another yummy local café lunch at Bertie’s in Show Low.

 

We took AZ 260 through the White Mountains, but after Grand Canyon none of it was quite as impressive as it would have been a week ago. We found we hadn't judged the driving time right. Everything was in shadow by the time we reached El Malpais in New Mexico with it huge black lava rocks and sandstone cliffs, and I didn’t get any pictures. We didn’t get to Santa Fe until well after dark and fell into bed exhausted.

Grand Canyon, South Rim, Red Route

The plan was to take off for Phoenix this morning, but not so early that I couldn't get in one more early morning hike.

Steve dropped me at the depot where I caught to Blue Line bus to the exchange for the Red Line out to Hermit's Rest, a trailhead to the bottom and the furthest stop to the west. My plan was to hike back along the Rim Trail as far as I could before I needed to catch the return bus to meet Steve and Mom at 11. 

It was 7:15 when I boarded the Red Line bus, and I couldn't resist another sunrise picture.

I was the only person on the bus for the entire trip, and the driver and I got to chatting. Steve had commented yesterday that driving buses here must be the most boring job on earth. Turns out that is anything but the truth. My driver, who was only a few years younger than I am, loves her job more than anything she has every done. She hopped out with me at the stops where she was supposed to wait a few minutes to stay on schedule. Our conversation got more and more personal. She came out of a difficult home situation, turned to drugs in the 70s, met her husband in rehab and met Christ when they chose a private Christian school for their kids. She radiated joy. By the time we reached Hermit's Rest, I asked if I could pray for her. We embraced despite masks. As I walked 4 miles back along the rim, I prayed that she would be a blessing to everyone she met today.

At Hermit's Rest I found this plaque posted. It fittingly describes the way I have felt the last few days here.

The view from the shop at Hermit's Rest.

If you are looking for an intimate experience of the edge, take the gravel rim trail between Hopi Point and Monument Creek Vista.

It passes the Abyss, which drops 3300 feet straight down.

If you have a fear of heights (or your legs are too wobbly after so much hiking) you might be best off to stick to the asphalted Greenway. My legs were wobbly, but...

When I hopped a bus at Mohave Point to get back in time to meet Steve and Mom, who should be my driver? The same woman. We both felt like it was a God thing.

Last shot of Grand Canyon. Well, at least for 2021.

Cedar Ridge Trail, Grand Canyon

After watching the sun rise from Yaki Point (previous post), I headed for the Kaibab Trailhead. The bus stops there on the way out, but not on the way back. No trail is marked on the map, but the bus driver (who had told me rather abruptly that I would have to walk) kindly pointed me to a shortcut along the rim, so I wouldn't have to go the long way around by the road.

It was 7:30 when I started down the trail, and the rocks were still rosy with the dawn.

The trail begins with a series of switchbacks.

The place where people are gathered near the center of the picture below is called Oo Ah Point for obvious reasons. I was amazed at how many young families I saw there on my way back up. I'm sure they had to carry the kids back, and they undoubtedly weighed more than my pack.

Here is the view that elicits the oos and ahs.

I had planned to hike 1.5 miles to Cedar Ridge. That doesn't sound like much, but the trail drops 1340 feet. And then, of course, there is the return. From Oo Ah Point I could see the rest stop at Cedar Ridge which looked to be pretty much at the same level as the enticing red butte in the middle of the picture. It's not. It probably took me another hour to descend from Cedar Ridge to the pyramid and return, but it was worth it. I sat in the shade and drank tea and ate cheese and crackers and watched the more ambitious hikers continue toward the bottom.

Then there was the return to the rim...

I had no commitment to meet up with Steve and Mom until supper, so I had plenty of time. The day began with a stocking cap and gloves as well as my jacket. Temps were in the 30s. The floor of the canyon was predicted to reach 90. By the time I reached the rim, the jacket, gloves and cap were stuffed in my backpack, and I had unzipped the legs from my hiking pants so that I was wearing shorts. I stopped at every shady rock. I enjoyed the views, sipped tea or drank water from my camel pack (a backpack with a plastic bag of water and a built in "straw" that reaches around so I can drink without taking the pack off). I readily stepped aside to make way for anyone coming down hill. They thought I was being nice. In fact, I was taking every opportunity for a break.

Stuff does fall from the cliffs.

Mules use this trail. I was happy not to meet any, but there was evidence that they had been there.

I made the rim by noon after 4 and a half hours on the trail. (I took too many tea breaks to claim 4.5 hours of hiking.) After calling Steve to let him know I was back on the surface, I walked the rim trail as far as Mather Point near the visitor center. Then I hopped a bus to transfer to the red route and see the other end of the park--the part that isn't accessible to cars these days.

The buses are handicap accessible, but the depot was too far from the parking for Mom to walk. When I asked the bus driver what he recommended, he told me we could get a code that would allow access for the car to any place the buses went. I hopped off at the next stop and called Steve. He brought Mom, got the code at the entry gate, and met me at Hopi lookout. We continued down the road stopping at every overlook or pull out. Mom got to see lots more without having to leave the car.

But not getting out of the car, is not my thing. So again tomorrow Steve agreed to bring me in to catch the bus west before we left for Phoenix.

Sunrise at Grand Canyon, Yaki Point

Steve brings me to the visitor center shuttle bus depot where I catch the 6:30 AM orange line to Yaki Point. The bus is surprisingly full for the early hour. At 70, I am probably the oldest person present. Most get off at the Kaibab Trailhead. About half a dozen of us continue on, including a gray-haired couple.

When we leave the bus, there is a hushed silence. No one speaks above a whisper. I settle myself on a rock just above this gap in the rim to eat my granola bar, drink my tea, and pray as I wait.

To my left a young woman wears such an expectant expression that I ask her permission to take this.

Someone wanders to a point further east. Others soon follow.

And then the sun begins to touch the peaks.

The light grows. The color spreads. And a new day at Grand Canyon begins.

Grand Canyon, South Rim

We felt the vastness of the Grand Canyon much more at the South Rim than at the North. It's also more crowded.

We found a picnic spot at an overlook...

...where we enjoyed the incredible view

It's often hard to glimpse the Colorado River so far below. I am amazed at God's patience in carving out this place. I had to pinch myself over and over. I'm really here.

I took a gazillion more pictures, but I won't bore you. Besides, I'll have a gazillion more tomorrow. I have been mentally stringing them all into a movie with instrumental Christian music in the background. That will have to wait until we get home.

We saw elk several times.

We settled Mom in the hotel room a few miles from the rim, and Steve and I returned to Yavapai Point to watch the shadows change as the sun set.

On the schedule for tomorrow? Sunrise and an early morning hike.