Orange Crush: 2 of 4

Canyon de Chelly National Monument is a long way from Chaco on narrow, barely paved back roads through the Navajo reservation near Chinle, Arizona. We headed out w/ perfect weather and arrived once again at the ONLY place to camp for 100 miles in a blisteringly cold thunderstorm. The Canyon, a National Monument, is Navajo land surrounded by Navajo reservation. It’s their canyon and that much is clear from the start. The amazingly scenic canyon is surrounded by junk and trash and broken glass and 5 generations of cars and washing machines. When you’re in a National Park, you expect a certain cleanliness. Not so de Chelly. It’s a natural wonder surrounded by a dump with everything from the occasional McMansion to the rusty single-wide, sometimes right on the canyon rim and in the canyon itself. There is one trail into the canyon that visitors are allowed to take, otherwise if you want to get down there you have to hire a Navajo guide or go on a Shake and Bake Jeep tour for lots of $. We stayed on top and took pictures from the rim. I’ve photoshopped out the broken glass.

Yup, it was quite cold this day.

Juniperis osteosperma, Utah Juniper. Tasty.

The rain passed and then we passed out in the free campground and left early the next day for Pagosa to pick up the dog and take a shower - and watch the Nuggets lose again.

After cleaning up, repacking and restocking we headed out again, this time for more familiar territory, Canyonlands NP and Dead Horse Point. We camped in the BLM land on the east side of Canyonlands and encountered bugs for the first time all vacation. Hardly a stitch of vegetation and gnats, mosquitos, biting flies, no-see-ums, the whole deal. We figured it was the presence of grazing cattle, because there was very little water. Bugs aside, we found our own, personal box canyon complete with spring fed stream and lush (for the desert) vegetation, so thick we had to turn back on our trek to the pour-off. After the thunderstorm that mostly missed us, we relaxed, and then relaxed. I geeked out with my Canyon Country plant book and ID’d some cool (to me) plants, Lola ate various scat, and Ginger read a half-dozen books.

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Hiking into our box canyon.

It was a pretty sweet camp spot.

The next day was going to be a long drive so we got up relatively early for camping, ate pancakes and hit the road again. We made a record short stop at Dead Horse Point (after the fee was paid to the state of Utah it was about a dollar a minute). Tangent: I reminisced about childhood visits here and have decided it’s about time to rent a Jeep and do the White Rim Trail again. That trip, 4x4 only down the Colorado and up the Green River, was one of the last camping trips I took with my dad. We packed too much gear, my sister Lisa, and barely enough gas, and took the 3 day drive across the vast valleys of the two great Utah rivers.

Minute 8 of 10 at Dead Horse Point.

So back at Dead Horse Point we took in Amazing View #20 of our trip, and headed north: destination Sawtooth National Forest in Idaho. It proved to be too ambitious as we hit a massive construction slowdown during rush hour south of Provo. We surprised the Christopherson’s with a call and they took us in, fed us and provided a TV to watch the final Nuggets loss of this season. Glad that’s over, maybe next year Carmelo. Thanks Mike and Kristina, we’ll make it up to you. Good luck with the Quercus gambelii.

Our next destination was supposed to be one last night of camping in the Blue Mountains of Oregon, but the pull to Seattle was too great. We’ll take the extra day to wash a million dead bugs off the grill and plan the next trip. Sandy, UT to Seattle is 875 miles. We did it in 13 blurry hours.

Stay tuned for all of the plant photos in the final vacation post! Plant geeks unite!

See more trip photos here on Flickr.

Orange Crush: Part 1 of 4

We love the southwest. Love it. Want to eat it. OK, consume it visually and tactically. Every two years like clockwork we must return to the desert for a camping and sight seeing trip. We’ve been doing this since 1999 when we went to Zion and got engaged. We covered 7 states in 10 days, and put an amazing 3,534 miles on the clock as we burned across mountain ranges to get to the promised land of red and white sandstone down south.

There were slight detours.

On the long trip down to Pagosa Springs, Colorado we stopped for the night and were the second to last table seated at the famous (infamous) Maddox Ranch House in non-scenic Brigham City, UT. Maddox is actually noted on the map. My grandpa and dad used to stop here on the way back from the cabin in Montana for big steak dinners. It’s hasn’t changed since my last visit 20 years ago, only expanded to serve more people. The food is still great, it still closes at 9:00(!) and still only serves Coke. Mormons drink their caffeine cold.

The sign lets you know they are serious. Ginger got fried chicken (half of one) and I had spicy top sirloin. I think it’s still with me, it was that good.

The next day we blew into Pagosa Springs where it rained for three straight days. We took shelter at Lynne and Rick’s house at 7,000’ elevation. Ginger’s sister Holly joined the fray. The mornings (before the daily afternoon monsoon) were spent exploring for mountain wildflowers and playing pool, and capping off the night by watching the Nuggets lose to the Lakers.

Chimney Rock, elevation 6,800

During a sun break, we got a little prequel, a taste of what was to come at Chimney Rock State Park halfway between Mesa Verde and Pagosa. This was one of the far northeast outposts of the Ancestral Puebloans (don’t say Anasazi). They used it to tell time because every 18 years during the lunar standstill, the moon comes up between the two chimneys of chimney rock and aligns with ruins on the ground. C.O.O.L. The next day we left Lola behind for three days of dog-spa vacation with the grandparents and headed South to New Mexico.

I always love crossing political borders and having the expectation that everything will be different, but it always looks the same on the other side. Except in this case the road worsens and the No Passing, OK To Pass, No Passing, OK To Pass signs proliferate and never, ever, ever stop.

Chaco Culture National Historical Monument is a World Heritage Site in the middle of nowhere, accessible by bad dirt roads (which thankfully keeps the RV count way down) and amazingly, wonderfully isolated. No WiFi, no cell service. Bye bye world! Charge your camera battery at the one outlet in the campground restroom and otherwise detach.

The campground is in a little sandstone box canyon with resident canyon wrens and bats. They put the tent sites in the patches of green protected in the canyon and leave the RV’s to roast out on the greasewood plain. HA! Our little alcove was blissfully quiet with no RV generators pumping out diesel fumes and noise all night to keep the retirees cool while they watch Satellite. We watched the bats and the stars. I usually hate campgrounds, but this one worked.

We immediately strapped on the day packs and headed out, wearing Chaco’s I might add. Chaco Canyon is a vast collection of Ancestral Puebloan ruins, ancient roads, and rock art. There are several hikes around the canyon and we recommend getting off the loop road and up onto the mesas that overlook the canyon. We found on these hikes that it was just us, the ruins, the petroglyphs, and the cactus. Our first hike burned out our feet for the rest of the trip. Don’t wear Chaco’s on 6 mile hikes at Chaco. Bad bad bad. It was so warm and after three days of rain in CO, and 8 months of rain at home, sandals needed to be worn. We could have waited I guess. Halfway thru our hike we had a thunderstorm, which would happen every single day for the rest of the trip. No kidding, every single day. Even on drive days. This while Seattle had 70 degree weather the entire time we were gone. It ain’t right, but nothing is. We bring the rain no matter where we go.

We scarfed dinner and went to a lecture in the visitor center to escape the rain and wind. So did the rest of the campground. They’ve discovered Chocolate at Chaco. I thought it was a joke at first, but they analyzed pottery and found that chocolate from 1000 miles south was brought to the canyon. Another piece of the vast puzzle of this vast place.

The plan was to leave the next day but it was too great and there were more hikes. So we stayed and trekked out on the longest hike in the canyon to Penasco Blanco, up on the west mesa. A truly amazing place, sherds of pottery everywhere, just strewn about. This site has never been excavated, so who knows what is down there. It was magical. When I’m stuck at work my mind will probably wander here, to this desolate place inhabited 700 years ago. We were the only people out there.

We headed back as our daily rain descended in huge black thunderheads and gusts of wind knocking sand in our eyes. By the time we made it back to the trailhead we were bundled up like an afternoon in December. Then it blew off and we spent another night in our canyon oasis with the singing wren, sitting on a rock high above the tents and watched the Campground Show. Humans make good comedy without really trying.

Eventually, we visited every site in the canyon and walked all but two of the long hikes. We will be back and honestly, we should have stayed an extra day, because our next destination was a big disappointment.

Stay tuned, next post in a couple of days!

On the trail...

Incredibly detailed masonry

Pueblo Bonito

Centuries old pottery just lying in the sand.

What is she looking at?

Supernova

See more trip photos here on Flickr.

Opening Day 2009

Well, Opening Day 2009 was a pretty huge success. Rain schmain. Every year since the 20's, the first weekend in May has hosted the Opening Day parade through the Montlake cut from Lake Union to Lake Washington. Thousands turn out, even in the rain. There are several classes of boats that parade; we parade in the Classic Power under 40' class. This year there were about 30 boats in our class including some real beauties - some might say even more spectacular than the SWIETENIA! However, with a little luck and some secret weapons at our disposal, we took 3rd Place for the second year in a row! We were quite surprised actually, not expecting to place again. But we're honored just the same.

How do we take it up a notch next year and claim second? We might need another baby or two (judges love babies) or perhaps we'll invest in a string of signal flags. A little more bling can't hurt. Thank you Clancy, Kara, Bea, Laurie, Jake, Corrie, Kristin, Ginger, and Lola. And thank you SWIETENIA for powering through the whole day with your timing horribly out of adjustment. My bad.

Pied Piper, Ann Hay's 1940 39' Matthews.

Andy and Genevieve's 1951 34' Cinnamon Girl. She's headed straight for us Captain!

Ginger enjoying the Friday evening before the parade, when the weather was perfectly sunny and balmy. It wouldn't last. We're on the deck of the Cinnamon Girl moored at the Seattle Yacht Club. They let the riff raff tie up for Opening Day weekend. Otherwise the privilege is about $15,000 just to join.

Boat bling. Freshly re-chromed siren from the 40's. It's loud as hell! I use it gratuitously of course. At every opportunity, really. Or during non-opportunities as well.

More bling: Mooring bit, chocks, light, and anchor chain roller. The flag is the burgee of the Classic Yacht Association.