Let's Play Catchup (Part II)
When Tes and Angi finally pried me off Holly's couch and out of Tucson, we headed up to Sedona, another of my favorite places from the years I lived in Arizona. Sedona is known for two things: its stunning red-rock landscape, and its reputation as a New Age hippie mecca, where geomagnetic lines in the earth are said to converge at certain points to create energy vortexes. Now, scoff if you want. Me, I have always loved all that sort of stuff, and when I've gone to Sedona in the past, I've definitely felt... things. Magnetism. Expansive energy. Power. I felt it this time, as well. And, and, my camera did too, so I've got proof... look at the video I'm posting with this entry. We were standing near a vortex, admiring a fallen pinon tree that'd been twisted into a spiral, when the little screen stabilizing magnet that lives inside my camera was knocked loose by the energy of the earth! Unfortunately, we'd been less than honest that morning—tried to skip out of Dead Horse State Park without paying—and the karma gods that live in the vortexes grabbed us by the hair and spun us around all day. It was the first time on the trip that we were a little... snippy with each other, and also the first time that we had scary trailer troubles: every time we tried to leave it somewhere and go do something fun, it would fall off its stand and act like it was going to roll away. Trying to flee from our bad vibes, probably. So, we called the park and settled our tab, mended our karma, and headed for the Oak Creek Brewery for the best dirty martinis we've had in a while. Excellent medicine. Getting out of the heat and eating helped too, as did another made-up game that I highly recommend, although it should only be played with people you love and trust: we all passed our identities to the person to the right for the evening. I became Angi, Angi became Tes, and Tes was me. Under normal circumstances, people who stumble into our energy field think we're a little insane. During the game, when every gesture and word had us screaming with laughter, we were absolutely batshit. But, Sedona attracts crazies, so... people loved us. Of course.
From Sedona, up through the Painted Desert and the Navajo reservation that covers most of the northeast quarter of Arizona. Past the aptly and poetically named Vermillion Cliffs, around one big, climbing curve, and all of a sudden we were in cool, high alpine terrain headed towards the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. I'd been to the South Rim a few times before, and hated it. HATED it, to the point that I argued hard against putting the Canyon on our route at all. In part, I think this was largely due to the fact that 90% of visitors to the Canyon go to the South Rim, and I remember it pretty much as parking, walking up to a guard rail, going “wow, it looks just like the pictures,” and going home. However, I also have to admit that I was about 15, and there is a slight possibility that I may have been too much of a snotty teenager to appreciate the Grand Canyon. After this visit, my parental empathy level has risen another notch, and I'll freely admit (which I don't do often): I was totally wrong. The Grand Canyon, from the North Rim at least, is really quite... grand. We spend three nights there, hiking through wildfire burns and groves of my favorite tree, the quaking aspen, and along the (unguardrailed!) rim. Campfires and meteor-spotting at night, and ice-cold sponge showers under the spigot at our campsite. Beefalo grazing amidst stands of indian paintbrush, lupins, and black-eyed Susans. 70-degree days and 40-degree nights. It was so, so lovely.
Next, across the Utah border, and then immediately back to Arizona again to the seediest liquor store we'd ever seen, right on the state line. Tes' 30th birthday was coming up, and we didn't know if we could buy alcohol in Utah, so we decided to stock up, even though funds were really low at that point. I've never said the sentence “Give me your biggest, cheapest bottle of vodka” before, and I hope to never do so again. But the guy working there was very accommodating of our non-existent budget, and in addition to recommending an (almost) drinkable plastic jog of whiskey, he sold us a half-price case of beer and threw in a twelve pack for free. Because they were expired. I could hear my liver crying.
Properly provisioned, we googled “free places to camp in Utah.” Turns out that cemeteries are great for that, and we parked in the tiny graveyard in Mount Carmel. It was dark and quiet and peaceful, and we figured that the only ghosts around would be Mormons, so we weren't too scared. One of our neighbors that night was the man who named Zion Canyon, and we paid our respects before unhitching the trailer and driving into the park for the day. My parents went to Zion as part of their road-trip honeymoon, and my dad fasted while they were there. On his advice, I did the same, and was really glad I did. The beauty of the towering red rocks of the narrowing canyon is almost... fierce, but it's balanced by the vibrant coolness of the Virgin River flowing down its belly, harboring pockets of green, delicate life. Being there was highly evocative, and taking in only water in the desert heat felt amazing. Food became just one less distraction, and sitting in the sun looking up at the canyon walls, feeling so alive and so blessed and so happy, I was moved almost to tears. Oh, and I almost forgot. We've now been skinny-dipping in a National Park.
From Zion, up to Bryce Canyon. Towering rocky spires called hoodoos rise up out of a wooded canyon like a landscape from a dream. We watched the sun rise over the canyon, and then Tes and I hiked up to the highest overlook and did morning yoga on the edge of a cliff. It was the first day my rib finally felt good, so we left Angi at the trailer (she was a little sick) and set off to hike the Peekaboo Loop trail. Three-quarters of the way through, we passed a group we'd seen going the other way and thought we were lost, so we turned around, re-traced about a third of the ground we'd covered, and then turned off onto Navajo Trail. Looking at a map later, we realized we could have kept on the way we were going and done about four and a half miles instead of the nearly seven that we did (with a 1,600-foot vertical climb thrown in there, too). It was worth it, though. Navajo took us through a narrow slot canyon to an immense series of switchbacks that climbed the entire canyon wall. Making my body work like that in the heat, with a storm threatening to roll in, felt great, and by the time we got out we were sweaty and hungry and totally pumped. It felt awesome. I forgot how much I love hiking.
After our workout in Bryce, we were in need of civilization, particularly civilization that had soap and hot water. By the time we got to Salt Lake City, it had been nine days since any of us had taken a real shower, and I'm pretty sure that the only reason we were able to tolerate each other in the car was that we all smelled so bad that we didn't notice the others. But, we couldn't afford a campsite, and were also looking for a big, empty parking lot in which to spend the night. Solving both problems at once, we parked at a 24-Hour Fitness, printed out 7-day guest passes at a Kinko's in the same shopping center, and took the longest, and probably the best, showers of our lives in the locker rooms at the gym. Then, we hit SLC to kick off the three-day marathon known as “Tes enters the dirty thirties.” Details are somewhat of a blur, and not really necessary anyways, but I'll say this: Salt Lake City is awesome. Awesome! Beautiful, and clean, and sooooo friendly. We're used to being approached in bars, of course, but by... women? Who are just absolutely cool and interested in meeting new people and hearing about our travels and having a good time? No, that was new. And great. By the end of the week, we'd befriended half-a-dozen incredible ladies, caught the end of a great outdoor concert, talked our way into a club to see an all-girl AC/DC cover band called Hell's Belles, and shared Bloody Marys and RV-ing tips with a two cool Canadian couples at the campsite we eventually landed at (we provided the Bloodies. They helped us get our shower working.) And, in the name of gender equality, I do have to note that Salt Lake is also teeming with very pleasant men, many of whom are nice to look at. Teeming. That's all I'll say about that.
Coming soon in Catchup Part III: We go to Canada! We make some money! We spend it immediately! Also, there's a boiling river, and a gentleman in spurs. Stay tuned.
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