Accommodation

From Moab we drove back to Las Vegas, leaving before the sun came up and finding ourselves in snow when it did. If my memory is correct, the highest elevation sign I saw read 7886 feet above sea level. Upon arriving in Las Vegas we returned our trusty hire car - a sad moment. We then boarded a rather small plane for our flight to San Francisco. Because we hadn't checked in online early enough, Daniel and I were seated at opposite ends of the plane. I think it was the first hour we've spent apart during this trip.

Many of you may already know where we stayed in San Fran, so I feel this post is a necessary precursor - a caveat of sorts. Apart from in the big cities, which are understandably more expensive, we've been staying mainly in roadside inns and motels. These do exist in the big cities, but they tend to be located in less than savoury areas or too far out to be convenient. A number of motel chains exist in America, and we've been frequenting Motel 6s and Super 8s. I've already mentioned a number of the nice places we've stayed, but I've not really mentioned these.

They cost anywhere from $40 to $60 a night, depending on the location and whether they've been renovated since the 1980s. They're as sparse as a motel room can be. When there's fresh air in the rooms they're fine, and often bigger than your usual hotel room. The problem is that most of them smell like somebody has smoked themselves to death inside, and that's in the non-smoking rooms. In any case, they've been doing wonders for our immune systems. We're certain that the Motel 6s are solely responsible for the fact we haven't (yet) been sick.

We've stayed in dozens of motel rooms, yet none of our ten thousand photographs document them. I would only have needed to show you one photo, as all the rooms of each chain are exactly the same. Ineptitude at its finest. What I really wanted you to see was the infamous Motel 6 bedspread. They look like someone ate a rainbow and then threw it up on the bed. Sometimes they smell that way too. We were well and truly ready for San Francisco.

Arches National Park

Now that our tire was fixed we were good to go and see the true reason we came to Moab - Arches National Park. We got back from our ride around 1430, and we scoffed down a late lunch. Subway never tasted so good. There were only a few hours of light left, but we were excited to explore Arches in the late afternoon sun. More than 2000 natural sandstone arches can be found within the park, even though 43 have collapsed since 1970.

The arches themselves are so beautiful but there are also other rock formations, petrified sand dunes and great views of the La Sal mountains. To get into the park you wind up through some cliffs, and you get a good look at Moab. There are a few hiking trails and campgrounds, but both the desert ecosystem and the rock structures are delicate and activities are carefully regulated. In 2006 a climber scaled Delicate Arch, and doing so has been explicitly banned since.

Moab from the entry to Arches NP

Arches was wonderful to see, but it's no Olympic National Park. The mountain biking was definitely the highlight of the day. We finally did some laundry that evening, and afterwards we debated driving through the night to get to the Grand Canyon at sunrise for a proper look. With our tire fixed we would have been able to make it, but we eventually decided not to try. A wise choice I think, even though it would have made for a great story.

Daniel's Two-Wheeled Revenge

Our day in Moab was busy busy busy. After driving back from Monticello with a patched tire, much more quickly than we'd driven there, we went straight to the Moab Adventure Centre. Moab is a small town but it plays host to many thrill-seeking tourists, predominantly during spring and the fall. There's something to whet everybody's appetite in Moab, whether it be 4WD-ing, dirt biking, kayaking, canyoneering, rock climbing or mountain biking. Daniel had booked us in for mountain biking and, much to my chagrin, he hadn't chosen the easiest trail. I was terrified, and he seemed pretty pleased with himself. I'm certain it was payback for the horse riding.

When our guide arrived she announced that we had her all to ourselves. Our timing has been excellent this trip - we've missed peak season but not yet been exposed to true winter weather. She drove us out to Dead Horse Point State Park and we chatted along the way. She'd been born in Salt Lake City but had got out of Utah as soon as she was old enough and never planned to come back. Then her husband taught her how to mountain bike and they began spending each spring in Moab, eventually settling permanently. According to her, Moab doesn't really feel like Utah.

The trail we were supposedly going to be riding (or trying to ride) took us along the edge of Canyonlands National Park, Utah's answer to the Grand Canyon. There were two options. The first was a relatively simple four mile loop. The second was a nine mile loop, but she said she doesn't take many people along that one. The first couple of miles overlapped, so we'd be able to make a decision once we knew how we were going to handle it.

The Trail

The view (and the ride itself) was breathtaking. Unfortunately that meant the view was also extremely distracting, and we often stopped to take it all in. We could see across the Canyonlands to the snow-covered La Sal Mountains. At one point we even crawled to a cliff edge on our bellies and made the mistake of looking down over the drop. Again, our timing was good as we'd backed off a few minutes before the wind picked up.

Don't look down...

Canyonlands and the La Sal Mountains

I'm running out of adjectives, and I need to get more creative with them. The [insert appropriate adjective here] expanse of the Canyonlands made us realise something very sad. I don't think we got the full impact of the Grand Canyon on our helicopter trip. What we saw was nowhere near as grand as the Canyonlands, and was probably just an easy tick of a box for lazy tourists. Making it even worse, we'd been only an hour from the main Grand Canyon lookout on our drive from Las Vegas to Monument Valley. We hadn't really realised because we weren't organised and were driving to a GPS, not a map, and insofar as we were aware of it, we weren't sure if our tire would hold out or if we had the time. It's probably the biggest stuff-up of the trip so far. Bummer.

The riding itself was actually quite enjoyable, especially once we settled into it. Daniel looked as pleased as punch ... until he was the first one to stack it. Daniel insists that he didn't fall off, but I think being tangled up in the bike on the ground counts. I admit, I also came a cropper, but I managed to land on my feet and run it out. Pure talent.

Runnin' Rebels Represent

Nonetheless, our guide seemed happy with our sick skillz and we continued on the nine mile loop. At this point I was a wheezing mess and kept holding the other two up. It might have had something to do with the altitude - in any case the cold wind certainly didn't help. I think it was the first asthma attack I've had, and given that it was almost halfway through the trip I don't think it's a bad effort. After nearly two hours on the bike I could barely walk. Once the jelly-legs disappeared, though, the sense of achievement arrived.

Life Elevated

Thanks to the limitations of our pathetic spare tire we meandered from Monument Valley to Moab, a small adventure town in southeast Utah. It was like driving through a dream. The Utah slogan is Life Elevated, and it's easy to get high on the scenery of this fascinating state. The lowest point in Utah is 2350 feet above sea level, and the highest is 13528. The below photos are just a teaser - wait for the next two posts...

 
It was Saturday afternoon when we arrived in Moab, and the only tire shop in town doesn't open on the weekends. We'd been giving our spare tire a workout, blissfully ignorant as to the likelihood of it blowing, but we had a 500 mile drive back to Vegas on Monday morning. We had to arrive by lunchtime to make our flight and, even if the tire was likely to hold for that distance, 50 miles an hour wasn't going to cut it.

The old boys in the local auto store put us in touch with the guy who runs the tire shop in Monticello, an hour out of Moab. We'd actually driven past it earlier that day, but we're idiots and didn't stop because it wasn't hire company-approved. As it turns out, we had no choice but to go back to Monticello and get it sorted Sunday morning. It cost us $40, which the hire company reimbursed anyway.

A Western Wonderland

Leaving Las Vegas was like being able to breathe again. There are some extraordinary cities in America - good, bad and ugly - but I'm just not enjoying them as much as the wide open spaces that abound here. Compared to places like Vermont, the Olympic Peninsula and the rugged western coast, the cities seem stale and not as distinctively 'American.' Our next destination was Monument Valley, near the border between Arizona and Utah, and it is hard to think of a more iconic and recognisable landscape.

We left Vegas well before sunrise and our first stop along the way was the Hoover Dam, which straddles Nevada and Arizona across the Colorado River. A perk of travelling at this time of year is that we often find ourselves alone at tourist attractions and able to enjoy them without interruption. We had the entire Hoover Dam to ourselves. The road that crosses the Dam itself is now only a tourist route - a large bridge has been built next to it as a traffic bypass. You can walk along the edge, and it affords an wonderful view of the Dam.

Hoover Dam

Driving through the Arizona desert yielded a surprise - snow. It was naive of us, but this wasn't something we were expecting. Even though signs by the road told us our elevation was more than 5000 feet above sea level, it was so jarring to see snow-covered red rock.


If there exists a generic road-trip checklist, we ticked something off it today. We were just outside of Tuba City, Arizona, i.e. the middle of nowhere, when a warning light appeared on the dashboard. We pulled into an empty car park to investigate further, but the problem was not hard to find. The moment we opened the door our hearts sunk with a whoosh. Well, actually, our hearts sunk but the whoosh came from elsewhere. Years ago, when I got my first car, Dad insisted on teaching me how to change a flat tyre. As usual, I paid no attention, and so it was lucky that Danny happened to have been at that lesson too. And that the car came with an instruction manual. Less fortunate was it that our spare tyre happened to be a space saver.

Flat tire

Real man stuff

For some reason Danny didn't appear to relish this golden opportunity to exercise his man skills. Perhaps it didn't help that I stood there watching, laughing and taking photos. It wasn't long before we were back on the road, albeit limping along at a maximum fifty miles per hour. Have I mentioned how fast they drive over here? Out on the Interstates the speed limit is eighty miles per hour and everyone does the obligatory five to ten over - you do the math.

It was near sunset when we reached The View Hotel, Monument Valley. It's the only hotel in the Valley itself, on the Navajo Nation. This was the view from our balcony:

If you don't know the Valley from countless Western classics featuring John Wayne, you may well have seen it in Forrest Gump. The Mittens, as they're called, were bathed in the sunset light. We got up early the next morning to watch the sun rise behind them, casting them as silhouettes as the sky yellowed. It was spectacular but so cold.

The hotel, restaurant and store (where I bought some gorgeous turquoise earrings) are all obviously run by Navajo people, and the restaurant serves an array of local specialties. Our favourite was the frybread:

Navajo frybread with honey

I can't remember the exact details, but it's a fried, leavened bread that was, in this instance at least, made with blue corn. The light in the photo doesn't do the colour justice - it was the most delicious shade of smalt blue. You eat it drizzled with honey and it's just to die for. I might try and find a recipe when I get home.

Things We Wish We'd Never Eaten #5: In-n-Out Burger

This post come to you courtesy of Daniel himself, who feels that he is too often being maligned by me and would like some input of his own. I still retain editorial control over all content.

IN-N-OUT is a west coast burger institution, dating back to 1948 in SoCal. The menu is simple, the decor is retro-simple, the food is super fresh and the stores are ALWAYS packed. The chain has a cult following with fans ranging from Tucker Max to Gordon Ramsey.

The IN-N-OUT chain is privately owned and controlled by the Snyder family that started it all. As such, the quirks of the chain are consistent store-to-store and state-to-state across 250+ locations.  The best example of this has to be the Bible references that are printed in discreet places on wrappers and cups.

I have two theories on this little detail:

1)   They are selling a religious experience.

Being a burger aficionado, feel free to check my references, I am fully qualified to say that In-N-Out is an out of body experience.  The burgers, the shakes and the fries individually are beyond good, probably the best I’ve ever eaten, but together its just exceptional. Needless to say, I wouldn’t be too surprised to see a Jesus face in the oil splotch of an In-N-Out chip bucket.

2)   What they are selling will lead to a religious experience.

This is the theory that Sarah will most likely side with. A double-double meal (w/ shake) comes with (for the almighty sum of ~8 bucks) a whopping 1655 calories,  just a Mars Bar shy of your RDI… As such, it seems only dutiful that with such a heart hardening serve of deliciousness, they also provide you with some counseling and guidance for the after life.

Either way I’m not fussed, but burgers will never be the same again.