Going to Canyonlands, Sept 4-7

Saturday afternoon, September 4, Mark, Mike and I finally were completely packed up and ready to leave on our cross country adventure. Even when ready and in the truck, we had a few errands to run on the way out of town. We didn’t actually hit the road until 3 PM, at least two hours later than we had hoped. We had reservations at a KOA campgrounds in Pendleton, Oregon for the night--a good five hours away. Dinner would be late.


I worked the whole week at the lab before we left and Mark did a host of house and yard projects. We also watched our beloved dog Ebony get weaker and weaker as the week progressed. Diagnosed with cancer before we even left for New Zealand, we had been thrilled to see her when we got home. However, by Thursday night, she was struggling to breathe, wouldn’t eat, and did not want to go for her eagerly anticipated nightly walk. I said my goodbyes knowing that Mark would take her into the vet on Friday while I was at work to have her put down. The end of a chapter. She was a rare and delightful dog and much loved. We will miss her.

Much of the drive on Saturday was along that glorious, grand river The Columbia. For well over a hundred miles, I-84 snakes along between the river and rugged rocky cliffs on the Oregon side. The landscape is stark and impressive--as is the wind. The river was awash in white caps. Intermittently, we witnessed wind and kite surfers flying along or above the water in the brisk breeze. The Washington side hills are brown and treeless, folded looking and high. One long stretch boasts wind farms of giant white propellers rotating in the incessant winds. As I drove, I could catch sight of the ghostly looking cone of Mt. Hood in my rearview mirror. We progressed into pink and purple streaked sky and finally deep dusk. We arrived at the campground to find our pre-paid site instructions taped to the bulletin board and happily pulled in for the night. An easy dinner, a few games of gin rummy, plus free wi-fi kept us up until 11 PM. The wind was still fierce so Mike slept in the cab rather than pitching his tent on the tiny patch of grass next to the concrete pad.

Sunday, Sept. 5. This morning, Mark woke early and left me snoozing in the camper while he started driving. It was to be a 10 hour plus day of driving. The winds accompanied us the entire way although we raced away from an angry looking bank of dark gray clouds. Once the wind-driven sand and dirt clouds completely obscured the cars ahead of us. A sign had already warned us not to stop in the middle of the highway.

We passed through the Idaho towns of Mountain Home and Bliss which elicited amused memories for Mike of an earlier trip through this region with his friend Kevin along--Mountain Home with no mountains anywhere in view and Bliss which is truly in the middle of barren nowhere. When all three of us were in the truck cab together we listened with rapt attention to a Tony Hillerman book on CD--Dancehall of the Dead. Perfect country to be listening to one of his interesting southwest mysteries.

We turned south and picked up highway 15 to Salt Lake City and the glittering huge Great Salt Lake on the edge of town. We had an abortive attempt to find a DQ for a blizzard (family trip favorite) only to remember that we were in Mormonland where few businesses are open on Sunday. Finally, about 6:30 (had to advance out clocks an hour along the way) we pulled into the Utah Lake State Park in Provo and found our once again prepaid campsite. (It is a holiday weekend after all.) After dinner we did a brief walk out to the lake battling against the wind and trying to avoid large swarms of non-biting small flies.

The wind is still blowing wildly at 9:40. Mike doesn’t care--he is NOT sleeping in the cab again!

Monday, Sept. 6. After a hot breakfast we were on the road again. Still going south, we drove through enormous mountain-ringed valleys or basins of yellowed grasses and scrubby sagebrush dotted with wonderful flowering wild sunflowers. The vistas were vast and starkly beautiful.

We exited onto highway 17 down to Hurricane where we succeeded in finding a DQ! Yeah! We skirted around Zion knowing we would back in a few days. We picked up 59/alternate 89 climbing hills to the Kaibab Plateau stopping for views back to the aptly named Vermillion (a bright red color, sometimes tinged with orange) Cliffs. Finally, we turned off on 67 to the North Rim. We passed through a large burned section of blackened trees and returning undergrowth then entered the Grand Canyon National Park. Here we rolled through lush green meadows and mixed forests of ponderosa and other pines as well as quaking aspen. We stopped to take pictures of a herd of smallish looking bison. (Later, at the evening campground talk, we learned that the fire had occurred four years ago and that the bison were actually beefalo, a cross between buffalo and cattle that the park is now eager to get rid of.) The North Rim visitors’ center, lodge, and campgrounds are at the dead end of 67 and are perched on the terminus of a large peninsula of rock that juts out into the canyons with views off both sides.

Luckily Mark had reserved us a campground spot before we left since we discovered that the campground was full! The lodge and campground are completely surrounded by the largest forest of ponderosa pines in the world (according to the ranger). The pines are tall and majestic with a few up to 500 years old.

We walked out to Bright Angel Point and around the rim for view after view into the canyons. We had forgotten just how deep and stunning the Grand Canyon is. It is well over a mile to the bottom. The early evening was spent viewing the sunset, of course.

Tuesday, Sept. 7. We woke to sounds of rain. We were both dumbfounded and dismayed. Naively, rain at the Grand Canyon had not ever occurred to us. Our plan was to drive out and do hikes along the ridge opposite the lodge so we carried on. We drove to Point Imperial and Cape Royal and walked in the rain.

About noon the rain let up and we enjoyed a ranger walk/talk at the Walhalla Glades about the early peoples of the area. We then attempted a hike called Cape Final. About half way into the walk we got caught in a deluge rainfall. We crouched under a fallen ponderosa pine in an attempt to keep dry. Mike and I bailed at this point and hiked back to the camper. Mark carried on and captured on film a rainbow across the canyon for his efforts.

Back at the lodge, we rushed to another ranger talk--this one on the California condor, the largest flying bird in North America. Afterwards, we checked in to our hotel room for one night, all took long hot showers, enjoyed the sunset over the canyon again, went to yet another ranger talk about death in the Grand Canyon, and FINALLY had a very late dinner in the lodge dining room. Apparently, this time of year there are lots of booked tours so we had to wait for a dining slot. Mike retreated to the camper for the night.

We have had to adjust to three of us in the tiny camper and heavily laden truck. Both Jon and Anneke requested we bring them various bulky items since we planned to drive. This has resulted in the “back seat” of the truck being bout 2/3 full. At first, the third person rode either in the camper or in the jump seat in the truck. However, quickly we realized that the person in the jump seat couldn’t see much. Consequently, I got to sit in the middle (over the hump) in the front seat so we could all be in the truck’s front seat. It works……….