Alright, so everything is fine. Nothing happened... But, today was definitely a little rough. So rough in fact that I am far too tired to explain it. There will be a proper post about our Cali adventures (including the lovely Hesch Family!) in the next day or so, but for now all I have is this video to sum up this day. You'll get the point. Goodnight cruel world.
After a rather restless night in Tucson, Pete and I
didn't know what to expect from Arizona. We liked it, but we were both just a
bit too grumpy to feel thrilled about anything we were seeing at that moment.
We'd started off by sleeping in a plaza next to a Taco Bell, but we didn't
appreciate the piercing lullaby of "Ok, and what kind of burrito would you
like?" so we moved to a Wal Mart Market lot down the road. Yes, they don't
just have Wal Marts out here, they have Wal Mart "Markets." How
fancy. Wal Mart just sounds better when you have the word “market” attached.
When we woke up, we showered at the gym and then Pete took off to get Carla
squared away. The steering shaft U-joint seized up during our 12-hour trek from
Del Rio, and she was in some serious need of lube love. After that, we punched
the Grand Canyon into our GPS, or at least we tried. Evidently, there is no
actual address for the Grand Canyon. I guess it’s just assumed that everybody
going there will have some hotel in mind or have hired Mexican tour agency to escort them
there by bus or burro. Even when I went online to do research, nobody could give me
specific directions on how to get there. The best advice we received was from a
woman working at a gas station. She advised we head towards Flagstaff and then
follow the signs. So we did. Just as we were about to merge onto I-17 towards
Flagstaff, Pete suggested we turn on the radio. Seconds after I turned the
dial, we heard an announcement that a major chunk of I-17 was being shut down
in either direction due to the funeral for a local police hero. While we were
touched by the gesture, it completely threw a wrench in our one and only plan.
That was our sole goal for the day, get to the Grand Canyon, and it turned out
that the main stretch of highway that stood between us and that goal was shut
down.
We pulled over in Phoenix
while I suppressed a meltdown and started coming up with plan B’s.We didn’t have much. We thought about
trying to brave the traffic in hopes that it would clear, but the idea of
sitting for hours in the heat was not ideal. Carla’s AC doesn’t really work
unless we’re chugging along and it’s impossible to chug in bumper-to-bumper
traffic. To top things off, Siri was completely useless and kept wanting to
take us to random places, none of which were grand or canyon-like. We’d have to
do this the old fashioned way… I was not about to give up on the Canyon, so I
called up 511 to speak with a professional. A lovely lady named Maria told me
that we’d heard that radio announcement just in time, as the traffic was
horrendous. She said it was clearing, but couldn’t promise me that it wouldn’t
take hours to pass through. She gave me a set of general directions and
highways that would take us to the vicinity of the Grand Canyon and wished me
luck. We would be bypassing the clear cut interstate by getting lost in the
boonies, but at least we’d be in air conditioning while we did it.That decided it for us and off we went
for a second time towards the Canyon.
I'm the king of the woooorrrlldd!
That misfortune turned out
to be the happiest accident of the trip so far. We traveled route 60 to 89 to
40 E along the most beautiful countryside Pete and I have ever seen. It was
completely magnificent and so overwhelming to the point where I feel pathetic
trying to describe it. No words or photos will ever properly elaborate on the
majesty we witnessed along those roads. Miles and miles of vast desert land,
mountains decorated with trees, hills and valleys of orange dirt and flowing
waves of wheat. Now I understand the song “America the Beautiful.” It truly is.
The sky was piercing blue and the fields looked like a golden ocean. The hills
towered over us with little roads snaking up the sides. We can’t imagine who
would be crazy enough to brave that, but the paths looked worn so they must be
used often. We fell in love with that land and I used up all the space in my
camera trying to capture it all. We sounded like broken records trying to adore
it out loud, words failed our awe and we eventually fell silent. How can places
like this really exist? I thought everything had been paved over by now… We
drove for hours without seeing anybody and then a little town would crop up out
of nowhere, filled with happy people living a simple life. The people out here
have the type of joy that eludes the rich and a pride in country that is only
written about in country songs. We stopped in Skull Valley for lunch at an
adorable diner. The waitress told us all about her life there, one she is proud
to have and unwilling to give up.
Skull Valley Diner
“I want to be buried
here,” she said. She promised no big city could provide the tranquility she’s
found in the middle of nowhere. She also told us about her love for birds and
how she’s currently the proud momma of a peacock, a macaw, and about 50
chickens. She has certainly found her happily ever after and we envied her
contentment. Skull Valley was home to only about 500 people, which isn’t much more
than my graduating high school class. It was also named after the way the first
English settlers displayed the remains of the Native Americans they conquered
when they took over the land. So…that’s peaceful. If you put that startling
reality aside, the place really was quite calming. Everything was slow moving,
of course. A train went through town and shut down any road travel for about
ten minutes. Not that we minded, we were hesitant to leave. But, the train
passed and we peeled ourselves away from our real-life Willabee. Another time,
maybe. Oh, and I saw cacti! I’ve always wanted to see one and now I have. I
think they’re adorable and I want one at home.
Amber waves of gorgeous
I never believed that any
place so far from the ocean could be beautiful, but I was proved wrong a
thousand times over. We are so incredibly glad that we didn’t take the
interstate. From now on, we’re
taking the long way around.
We found Arizona to be
pretty enchanting overall. The people are friendly, the scenery is gorgeous,
and the signs are comical. Here are some of our favorites:
“Drive Hammered, Get
Nailed.” Who doesn’t love a good and honest pun?
“Prison Area- DO NOT
STOP.” After all, we wouldn’t want them to finally find us.
“Maintain Your Vehicle.”
We’ve seen this sign several times in the most remote spots. By those points,
we were so far into nowhere, we couldn’t help but feel that this warning was a
day late and a dollar short. If we really were in vehicular distress, we’d be
too far away to do anything about it. But, thanks for the reminder, Arizona, we
know you care.
The closer we got to the
Grand Canyon – and we did, since our back road directions were perfect! – we
kept seeing signs for elk. Pete mistook them for moose warnings, and it was only
after correcting him that I realized it didn’t matter. Any decently-sized
mammal would total our little car. Heck, even a sturdy cow could cripple Carla,
so we decided to avoid all wildlife if we could. Unfortunately, we could not.
We were just driving along, minding our own beeswax, when suddenly we rammed
into a swarm of bees. They splattered all over the windshield; it was a bumbling
bumble massacre. Saving Private Ryan, the Bee version. Wings and stripes and
goo went everywhere, all over the windshield. Pete was driving, so he couldn’t
identify the victims, but I was positive they were bees. We’d had both of our
windows down at the time of the slaughter, so I was afraid that some survivors
had made it inside. “No no,” Pete said. They were probably flies, he said.
“Don’t worry Liz,” he said. At least, this was his line until bees started
cropping up in the car at random over the next hundred miles. We’d be driving
along when we’d hear the buzzing of an angry little monster desperately slamming
himself into the back windows in search of escape. I knew that eventually he
would lose all hope and commit bee suicide into one of our thighs, so I made
Pete pull over (several times) to evacuate our unwanted guests and release them
back into the wild. It was terrifying. It was like Jaws, but instead the
monsters were pea sized and INSIDE the ship.
It sure was grand
Our next incident with one
of nature’s gentle demons was at the Grand Canyon. It was fabulous, by the way.
We hiked over from Bright Angel to see the magnificence that is the Grand
Canyon. It looked exactly like a postcard and maybe this is why neither of us
was as struck by its beauty as we were with the random views we captured along
the road. Not that is wasn’t stunning, but we almost felt as though we’d seen
it before. Regardless, we found a nice rock on the rim to perch on and watch
the sun go down. That was spectacular. We stayed the whole time and saw the sun
disappear behind the canyon, casting pink, purple, and red shadows along the
opposite side. That was my favorite part. It was so peaceful, but windy. We
feared that a single good gust would send one of us plunging to our deaths.
There were an awful lot of lost hats down there…
Mr. Friendly
We spent several hours
relaxing by the Canyon, but once the sun went down it quickly became cold and
we decided to head back. That’s when Pete made a furry friend. Along the path
back to the car was an elk. A fully grown elk, with heavy haunches, thick
antlers, and eyes that said “Come at me, bro.” I was fumbling with the GoPro a
few paces back when suddenly I heard Pete call out in surprise. I looked up
just in time to see the elk rear it’s head angrily in his direction and thrust
it’s nose out all too close to his face. A nearby woman felt the need to add
“Oh, he doesn’t want people near him,” as if there was any doubt. Thanks for
clearing that up, ma’am. Needless to say we observed the mammoth from a further
distance. Oh and I got the whole incident on camera.
That night was a tricky
one. We had a few obstacles, but our main concern was the fact that the
temperature would drop to 30 degrees overnight. We’d gone from being too hot in
Tucson to too cold in Grand Canyon Village. We brought some warmer clothes, but
nothing truly suitable for freezing temperatures. Any hotel in the area was
$200 or more a night unless we wanted a side of bed bugs. It was Memorial Day
weekend, after all. We hadn’t really thought of that… We decided to rough it
unless things got too bad, then we’d settle for some run down motel on the
village outskirts. We’d been planning to sleep in the park, but that plan was
overruled during Pete’s chat with a park ranger at the entrance.
Park Ranger (eyeing the
car suspiciously): “What are your sleeping accommodations for tonight?”
Pete: “…you’re looking at
‘em!”
*crickets
*
She was mildly amused,
but only after we assured her that we would obey park regulations and not sleep
there. She also impressed us by referring to what we’re doing as “Car Camping.”
Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? It sounds so much more socially acceptable
than “sleeping in our car.” If we tell people we’re car camping, we sound
rustic and youthful. If we tell them we’re sleeping in our car, we just sound like
homeless bums. We’ve decided to call it Carla Camping from now on and we were
promised that there was a place called Apache 328 where we could do so. But, by
the time it got dark we were too hungry to stop and find the campground, so we
headed into the village to get dinner while we could still keep our eyes open.
Yippe-ka-yay’s Steakhouse provided us an oversized and perfect dinner of
sirloins and margaritas, after which we were fat and not nearly concerned
enough that we still had nowhere legal to sleep.
We changed in the
McDonald’s parking lot and then trolled around the village, waiting for tourist
activity to simmer down. When it looked like the majority of people had called
it a night, we nonchalantly slipped into a Holiday Inn Express parking lot,
right in line with the other foreign cars and visitors. With the curtains up
and facing the building, we blended in as just another visiting vehicle. We
slept undisturbed until about 3 a.m. when Pete began to shiver a little. I was
awake and felt like a bear in a cave during wintertime. All in all it wasn’t a
bad night, but we were happy when morning came and the sun rose along with the
temperature.
Getting his kicks on Route 66
Unfortunately,
the majority of things we would have liked to do at the Grand Canyon required
reservations made months in advance. Since this is such a seat-of-our-pants
trip, we couldn’t make any reservations, we just hoped for cancellations. By
mid-morning, we realized that the Grand Canyon would deserve it’s own vacation
someday, one where we could book things and plan things and not sleep in our
car – sorry, Carla Camp. We instead spent the day in Williams, touring the cute
little shops on historic Route 66. We certainly got our kicks, walking from
shop to shop, Pete checking out the old cars and talking me out of buying a
painfully pretty and overpriced turquoise ring. We had lunch at Goldie’s Route
66 Diner and fired off a few postcards at the Safeway before hitting the road
again.
Arizona
was very good to us and we were surprised by how sad we were to leave it.
Certainly our favorite state so far, and even with half the trip ahead we have
a hard time imagining anything that could top the views we’ve seen. But, it’s
off to California with lots to do and people to see.
We’ve
driven 4,505 miles in 12 days, across 21 states, stopping in 8 cities. Carla is
hurting from the abuse, but she’s a real trooper and we know she wants to get
us to Washington, safe and sound. Somewhere on route 40 W towards California,
Carla started running a fever. As you can see in this video, this scared us both and we’ve had our eyes fixed
on her temp gauge ever since. She’s only gone through about 4 quarts of oil,
which is better than Pete was expecting. She did, however, warn us about a bad
tire by vibrating rather violently on Route 58. We pulled over immediately and
Pete changed the tire, marveling at the broken belt and protruding lump on the
wounded tire. You could see the steel band where the rubber had worn away.
Basically, it was ready to pop. Pete didn’t tell me this when we were stranded on
the side of the road and I was fretting about whether or not I’d almost faced
death and blown a tire. He’s only just now telling me this while I type and he
drives, knowing that it’s past the point where I’m allowed to freak out. Nice.
But, I suppose this is why we have a second spare strapped to the roof, which
still hasn’t fallen off, by the way! Pete hypothesizes that Carla was
overheating because we were scrambling up endless miles of hills with a speed
limit of 75 and it’s just a bit much for her to take. Let’s face, it, it’s
difficult to keep up with traffic in a car that does 0-60 in about ten minutes.
Oh, and it was about 95 degrees out too. All this on an incline and Carla was
cursing the day we bought her. She’s a fighter, though, and she hasn’t steered
us wrong yet. Let’s hope our luck continues on the West Coast.
So
far, California is a wee bit nasty. It was all very charming when we were going
through the hills of wind turbines and pretty lights, but now it smells like
mushrooms and poo. We’re keeping our fingers crossed that this is not an accurate
representation of things to come.
We’re
off to see Christian Hesch in Morro Bay, an unexpected pit stop on our way to
San Fran. He generously welcomed us into his home, not realizing just how bad
we look and smell. We haven’t showered in about 40 hours and we’re too tired to
try and hide it. That should really explain just how bad California smells if
we are more focused on its stench than our own.
And
WOW are the gas prices here sky high. Yikes! Pete just shouted a rather rude
and graphic phrase at the Shell station we just passed. Gasoline here is about
$4.89/gallon and Pete just told this state where to shove it. We don’t need to
stop for fuel now, but when we do, there will be tears. At least we will be
sleeping indoors tonight…
I’m really looking
forward to seeing the ocean. I’ve been getting increasingly claustrophobic as we
drove deeper into the heartland and I’m relieved at the prospect of seeing
water soon. Apparently, you can take the girl out of the Ocean State, but not
the Ocean State out of the girl. To be honest, I need to see waves in the next
24 hours or I’m going to lose it. The amber waves of grain, while beautiful,
can’t compare to ocean waves for me, no matter how taken I was with Arizona.
I’m jonesing for some ocean breeze and I can’t wait to breathe it in, providing
the smog doesn’t choke me first.
