Page to Monument Valley

Today, today, today. Where to start. Last night, that’s where. You’ll be thrilled to hear that Slackers holds on to its number one spot for best burger in the world. It’s a long way to go for the best burger in the world, but it’s worth it. Trust me.

I also think I saw God in a sunset – or the bit of sunset that I saw from behind Slackers. No wonder people get all religious.

Sitting outside the motel office to use the net, I bump into the owners, Pamela and Brady (of Red Rock Motel). Brady greets me with a ‘howdy’ and I like him instantly. He tells me how this district is the historic district of Page, and the many motels that line the streets are the original buildings that housed the workers who built the dam. I think this is extremely cool. In fact, if you look at old photos of Page, you can see the buildings that are now the motels. Pamela and Brady have a nice dog too. We chat about England and he shows me a photo of him doing muddy motorbike things in the UK somewhere. It looks very cool. I recommend the motel if you’re ever in the area. You know, for or a burger or whatever.

On to today. Up at 6.30, breakfast in bed (why not) and a Skype with the missus in blazing sunshine at 8.30. I then go off to see the John Wesley Powell Museum in Page, which is full of information about Glen Dam and John Wesley Powell, a professor, a soldier, and an explorer of the American West. He was the first man to navigate a passage through the Grand Canyon. He also only had one arm when he did this. He certainly was an interesting chap. There was also bits about lots of other people who have braved the rough waters of the river, long before the dam tamed the flow. Impressive stuff.

Clever guy, Buzz

I look at some dinosaur footprints and realise it’s the first time I’ve ever seen some. I don’t take a photo and I’m not sure why. I hit Walmart for a towel, then head out to Horseshoe Bend as it’s close by. It’s every bit as beautiful as I remember. My stomach flips as I get close to the edge, and think about how it’s only sandstone I’m standing on, the very same sandstone you can break and crush with your fingers. I move back. I’ve put on weight.

The walk, while not long, is tiring. Although only 10.30, the sun is going for it and I develop a lovely sweat patch on my vest. The good thing is I'm far from the only one. Back in the car, I amp up the AC. Time to swim.

I head out to Lake Powell. There’s a small dirt road just before the dam which leads to a car park. Climb down rocks and you’ll probably find a stretch of red sand or white rock you can call your own private beach. I jump and swim, but get scared easily by the blackness so kick around in the shallows. It’s bloody lovely. I stare up at the dam and wonder if anyone is staring back.

I was here last year with Thilde and Nikolaj, and had hoped to find the same spot but of course, with the water level changing constantly, it’s nigh on impossible. I must be around the same area but just can’t recognise it.

After an hour, I’ve dried off, and I head back to the car. My flip-flops break. I buy new ones, then hit the road. I haven’t got an address for the hotel I’m staying at but know what roads I need and it’s only 2 hours away so go old skool and leave the GPS in the glove box. 

I drive and drive through nothingness. I hit a short but intense rain storm which thankfully helps clear the sticky mess of dead insects from my windscreen. I hit something huge the other day and while the rain helps get rid of most of the other gunk, my wipers just smear big dead bug all over the place.

Suddenly, I see what must be the start - if you can call it that - of Monument Valley.

I keep thinking this for the next hour, until we round a corner and there it is, no mistake. I’m so excited I actually whoop out loud. I can’t believe I’m finally here.

The hotel is superb. I check in, head to my room, head back out and ask about another night. All booked up, she says. I was expecting it. I booked this room about 4 months ago. I go back to my room, but 10 minutes later the phone rings. The man behind me in the queue at reception wanted to check out early – would I like to take his room? She says she’s never had that happen before, I take it as a sign and take the room. I’m blissfully happy.

I do a wander around the hotel, sit on the wall, and look out over the valley. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful in my whole life. I didn’t realise how important it was for me to get here, although I'm not sure why exactly. It’s so indescribably peaceful and majestic, it’s almost too much. Although the view remains the same as it has done for centuries, it changes every second with the light. I look out and wish my wife was with me.

I wander some more, and wonder how on earth I’ll ever get a photo that conveys even in the slightest how incredible it is here.

Tomorrow I have the whole day to explore. I’ll do the drive, and maybe get on a horse.

Tonight, if I open the doors to my balcony and look up, I can see nothing but stars. I’m instantly jealous of the families that still call the valley home. How wonderful.

I knew it’d be beautiful, I knew I’d love it, I just didn’t expect it to be quite so powerful. 

Tomorrow, I’ll watch the sun rise. I should go to bed. 

Page

I’m frustrated by the lack of internet. Things are piling up.

But in the big picture – not even that much bigger – I know it doesn’t matter, especially after a day like today.

My alarm went off at 5.45. Ouch. But not that much ouch as I know what’s in wait, and it’s one of the highlights of my trip. After a quick but substantial breakfast in my ‘kitchenette’, I head to the meeting point. We are briefed, we are loaded on to what looks just like a prison bus, and we are transported to the Glen Dam. We have to have all our stuff in clear plastic bags as the area is under Homeland Security (it never used to be. The local kids used to use the tunnel we head down to get to the river). We head into (bracketed) said tunnel and we go down and down and down. It’s so dark the full beams have trouble penetrating. At last – light. We arrive at the base of Glen Dam. It looms up over us like some kind of monolith. It’s breathtaking. There’s enough concrete to build an 8 lane highway, 4 inches thick, from here to Chicago. That’s quite a lot. We are loaded on to rafts, and off we set. I should point out this isn’t rafting in the sense that most people think of it. This is flat water floating down the river. It was serene and beautiful, not rough and adrenaline pumping.

We glide gently down the river, getting sore necks from looking up.

Birds – eagles, herons and Ospreys – soar above and around us. The scale is absolutely impossible to grasp. We slip by sheer walls of up to over a kilometre high, but they look as if they’re just a few hundred metres. It’s impossible to imagine. A bit like when you first visit the Grand Canyon – it’s so big you can’t comprehend it. I still can’t.

We push on past fishermen and women, pulling rainbow trout like there’s no tomorrow. It’s really quite chilly in the shadows. There’s a cool wind as we come around corners, but as the sun peeks over the top, we’re warmed and as I gaze into the river I’m tempted to just roll overboard. We hit a beach, and check out some ancient carvings on the wall. No one knows what they mean but they’re lovely. The water is just 8 degrees centigrade, but someone jumps in and then gets back out. We load back up and head on to what I was looking forward to – Horseshoe Bend. I saw the bend from the top last year. It’s just incredibly beautiful. Just as much so from the river.

I speak to an English woman whose sister was here last year. She saw an Osprey swoop down and pluck a fish from the river, only to be attacked mid-air by a Bald Eagle. The fish fell to the river and the birds continued to fight. We didn’t see that.  

Due to a road collapse (that’s the 89) we can’t go the usual route down to Lee’s Ferry (the drive back back would take 4 hours instead of the 45 minutes on the 89), so just after the bend, we turn around and I get to see it all over again. Fine by me. We cruise past it and I stare and stare and stare. I ask our guide how many accidents happen – there are no fences at the top of the gigantic wall that looks down over the river. He’s been working on the river for 14 years and was born and raised in Page, but only recalls two. Not bad. Maybe people aren’t so daft.

The news is on in the background now, and there’s a warning of a dust storm in Prescott. That would have been pretty cool to see. There’s also some footage of a trial. That’s just weird.

Anyway. We arrive back, load back on to the prison bus, and head back. A quick lunch (all provided by Colorado River Discovery and really quite good!), and I find directions in my named lunch bag for the next part of the day. I hit home first to butter myself in factor 30 and then head out to Hidden Canyon Kayaks. Some total dudes welcome me and I sign, as I seem to be doing a lot, forms saying that if I die, it’s no one’s fault but my own.

We head out to Lake Powell and get in our canoes. Not kayaks. I’m terrified I’ll burn to death and continue to plaster factor 30 all over myself. We set out to Lone Rock. A big rock – I mean big, America big – in the middle of the lake. Then we move on to a small canyon where we get out. The boys jump off rocks, I climb them. The view is beyond belief. How is there so much space? How do places like this exist? I’m flabbergasted by nature.

We pile back in and set out for another canyon. The water makes amazingly odd holes in the wall. I can only think of the insides of bones. I chat to a guide about waves on the lake. They can get huge – 6 feet. He and the other guide have had to be rescued. Twice. The weather here is fickle.

We head back to the beach, it’s a long slog back, but thankfully there is cloud on the horizon. A man announces he’s renouncing his Atheism when the clouds finally cover the sun. I join him.

We hit the cars, I hit a food mart, I hit the beer section. I get home, I sit outside and realise that I was quite paranoid about burning but it’s nothing but a good thing. I crack a beer (Odell Brewing IPA, really very good) and sit outside, planning my next few days.

Tomorrow night is my last booked night. I’ve had to be in certain places at certain times but that ends after tomorrow. I’m looking forward to that – it’s when things really open up. I think I’ll head to the Four Corners and stand in Arizona, New Mexico, Utah and Colorado at the same time. I’ll head to New Mexico to revisit White Sands. I might get a bit lost.

Right now, I’m heading out to Slackers. I had the best burger of my life there last year, and I’m going back for another one. Here’s hoping I won’t be disappointed.

Here’s to redundancy. Cheers. 

Flagstaff to Page

It’s been another exhausting yet brilliant day. I’m in bed right now, and have no internet. I didn’t last night either, at least, not good enough to upload photos and a blog post. Gosh darn it, America.

Well, let’s see. The day started out with a walk to La Bellavia for breakfast. Eggs and bacon and a big mug of coffee. Then I walked up to the railroad tracks that traverse Flagstaff and sat and waited. I was determined to recreate a photo I took in 1999. See below.

I waited and waited then decided to go find some water. Needless to say, as I wandered off, I heard a train approaching. I literally ran back, only to discover it was coming from the other direction. So I wandered off again. And again, a train came – from the right direction – but this time I couldn’t make it back in time. Frustrated but determined, I plonked myself down and waited. I read my Lonely Planet. I looked at empty Flagstaff. I was just beginning to realise that what I was doing was a bit daft when bingo – along came the BNSF. Not nearly as good, but I'm pleased enough. 

For some reason this made me incredibly happy and I bounced off back to the hotel to pick up my bags and hit the road. Which I did. My plan was to hit Cameron Trading Post (there’s a lovely bridge), then Marble Canyon (lovely bridge), Grand Canyon North Rim (lovely br – view), then potter on to Page (best burgers in the world). I took my time today. I’m getting to the Arizona I really love. The red rocks, pink cliffs and skies so blue it’s hard to believe. Sometimes I look at the view and just can’t believe that what I’m looking at is completely natural. Sounds daft, but just look at the colours. How can you not fall in love with views like this?

 Marble Canyon proved to be rather good too. I’ve never been here before, so that was exciting. Saw some Californian Condors too.

I drove for hours along some of the most beautiful cliffs and rocks I’ve ever seen. It makes me so excited for Monument Valley.

This is a house built on to/under a rock. Cliff dwellers, they’re called. Not anymore, but they were. Big rocks rolled down the cliff face, and people just build their homes on to them. It was cool, robust and cheap. Not bad.

Then the climb started. The highest viewpoint (Imperial Point) of the Grand Canyon is at the North Rim. It’s over 2,742 metres up, so it’s quite a climb. Suddenly, the pine trees that cover, completely cover, the Kaibab Plateau, surround me and the air is thick with the smell of them. It’s almost delicious – lush even. I roll down the window and gulp it in.

A couple of hours later, and I’m there. It’s later than I had hoped, but so what. I walk, I stare, I look enviously at the log cabins perched on the edge. I’m struck by how empty it is. If you’ve ever been to the South Rim, you know how busy it is. Hundreds of people, all desperate to get a good look, all stopping at the same points – it’s enough to make you not want to go. It’s changed so much every time I’ve gone, and that’s partly the reason I decided to skip it and go north instead. There’s also the obvious fact that I’ve never done the north so it was about time. I’m glad I did. I’d say the views easily match, if not rival, those at the South Rim, and the solitude make it all the more striking.

Unfortunately, there’s never enough time (one day I will do a rim to rim hike), and I peel my eyes off the sheer drops and head back to the car. I realise that I’m going to be getting to Page much later than hoped, never mind the fact that the 89 is still closed, and the recently paved 89 T is only open in daylight hours. This means a loop around into Utah and coming into Page from the north. Another 45 minutes to the journey.

By the time I roll across the Glen Bridge, I’m virtually running on fumes, the sky is black, and I’m ready for bed. Check in, hit the supermarket, find out I was given the wrong code for the internet, but it’s too late – I’m in bed.

It’s been one hell of a day. Tomorrow, I hardly drive. If I’m unlucky, I’ll be in the car for an hour, max. In place of 4 wheels, I’ll be on a raft, and then a kayak. Colorado Rive and Lake Powell, here I come.