Travelogue

Stopping at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon was a very spontaneous decision on our part--not our usual style, but as we drove along Highway 89 on our way to Sedona and saw the turnoff for the East Entrance to the Park, we just couldn't resist. I mean, how can you just drive past the Grand Canyon without stopping for a peek? Even though we had been to the Grand Canyon twice before, it had been to the much less visited North Rim, so the South Rim would really be something new for us.

Lolo and the Boys Hiking Bright Angel TrailWe figured there was no way we were going to find a campsite in the park, but worst case, we could just visit for awhile and then continue on our way to Sedona. So, we hung a right into the park and drove west along the rim of the canyon on the very scenic 26-mile long Desert View Drive, pulling over frequently to enjoy the incredible views.

When we reached Grand Canyon Village, we pulled into Trailer Village Campground, feeling quite certain that we would be turned away. To our surprise, they had one site available for one night--perfect! We couldn't believe our luck. Since the Village is really too crowded to drive an RV around, we parked it in our campsite and took a shuttle from the campground to the main part of the village.

We knew exactly what we wanted to do--hike the Bright Angel Trail, or at least part of it, down into the Canyon. This is the most popular hike in the park and it's certainly easy to see why. We began our hike at the Rim, and began descending a series of steep switchbacks that seemed to go on forever. The views along the way were breathtaking. The entire 7.7-mile hike down to the Colorado River, 4,420 feet below, takes about 4 hours to get down and another 8 hours to hike back out--not exactly a day trip. Our much more modest goal was to hike down to the One-and-a-Half Mile House, which as you might guess is 1.5 miles down and then 1.5 miles up again. Three miles might sound easy, but with the extreme heat and the steepness, it definitely wasn't.

When we reached the One-and-a-Half Mile House, we saw a ranger aiding a hiker suffering from heatstroke or dehydration--a reminder to us that hiking in the Grand Canyon is not to be taken lightly. The summertime temperatures on the canyon floor often exceed 100 degrees, so plenty of water must be carried and hiking must be done early in the day or late in the afternoon.

Once back out of the canyon, we hiked along the Rim Trail, which runs 9.2 miles along the canyon's edge past most of the attractions in Grand Canyon Village. This trail makes the canyon views very accessible for those unable to make the steep climbs required to actually enter the canyon. We stopped briefly in the historic El Tovar Hotel, the famous hotel located just 20 feet from the canyon's rim. The National Park Service really does a wonderful job at creating structures that add to rather than detract from the natural beauty around them.

Tired and satisfied with our day's hike, we took the shuttle back to the campground. I think we were all glad that we took the detour and got a chance to see the South Rim; however, I must say, I prefer the more secluded and less developed North Rim.

Travelogue

Since mountain biking is probably my favorite way of truly experiencing a place, I was anxiously anticipating our visit to Monument Valley. While reading Mountain Biking Utah, I discovered that the scenic loop through Monument Valley was actually listed as a relatively easy to moderate bike ride. This was great because I had already learned that RVs were not permitted on the loop.

Family crazy enough to bike Monument ValleyWe checked into Goulding's Monument Valley RV Park and got a great campsite overlooking the red sandstone buttes of Monument Valley. Fortunately for us, the day was a cool 84 degrees, not bad for desert in midsummer. It seemed like the perfect day for a bike ride. In my excitement to get started, I happened to mention our planned bike ride to the campground manager. He looked blankly at me and said, "You're going to bike ride the loop?" Undaunted, we set off in the RV to drive the mile into the Monument Valley Tribal Park.

While paying our entrance fee, we mentioned to the Native American at the entrance gate that we were planning to mountain bike the loop. I should have been concerned when he said he'd never heard of anyone doing that before. He must be new, I thought. The mention of my plan to a woman behind the desk in the Visitor Center brought the same blank stare of confusion. I, however, am a firm believer in the truth of the written word and I had clearly read about this ride in a Mountain Biking Utah guide.

Biking Monument ValleyWe parked our RV in the lot, unloaded our bikes, and set off on our adventure. The ride started with a sharp 500 foot descent down the sandy washboard road. Although going down was fun, I can't enjoy a downhill with complete abandon when I know that at a later point in the day it will be a tortuous uphill climb. Oh well, I decided not to think about that for now and to just coast on, enjoying the fabulous views.

Ever since our boys were little, we always tried to encourage them to push themselves and go the extra mile so to speak. On bike rides, I would use the promise of something good just around the corner to keep them going. In the past, that has meant just another mile for ice cream or we're almost at the beach, etc. With no amusement parks or ice cream shops in sight, I had to try to tempt them with the roadside sale of Navajo trinkets and the promise that I think we're halfway around the loop by now so turning back isn't going to make it any shorter.

All the while we were pedaling, a constant flow of cars went by, kicking up clouds of the dry red sand. We must have been quite a spectacle because people were waving and cheering us on. I tried to let their cheering drown out the whining which was now coming from my younger son.

Meanwhile, my husband who wants to document these adventures as later proof of our wonderful parenting, is pedalling ahead of us, jumping off his bike, removing his movie camera from his backpack, and filming us riding towards him. He repeated this process about a dozen times throughout our ride. He must have been exhausted.

By the time we finished the ride, we were covered in a thin coat of red sand and probably could have passed for Navajos. No matter what anyone says, I think it was a great ride and the only way I would have wanted to see it. Anyone can drive the loop, but I feel we truly earned it.

Travelogue

Tommy at 4 CornersWe just had to do it. I don't know why. It had no natural beauty; it wasn't any sort of manmade wonder; it wasn't even free. But something compelled us to pay our $10 so we could simultaneously place our left foot in Arizona, our right foot in New Mexico, our left hand in Utah, and our right hand in Colorado, thereby being in 4 states at the same time. It was like playing Twister.

The site where the 4 states meet was marked by an attractive granite and brass marker. We watched as people formed lines at each of the 4 sides of the marker. We lined up in Arizona. Then alternating turns, like at a 4-way stop sign, someone would step up to the marker, do their own creative approach to spanning the 4 states, and then move on. It was quite civilized.

Travelogue

As we continued west across northern New Mexico on Route 64, we kept scanning the horizon hoping to catch a glimpse of Shiprock, the incredible 1,700 rock formation shaped like a Clipper ship. Herb spotted it first, from probably over 20 miles away, rising abruptly from the desert floor, the only thing breaking up the otherwise flat landscape. It really did look like a ship, complete with masts and sails.

Ship RockI had done my research and knew that our closest view of it would be from alongside U.S. 666, about 6 or 7 miles south of the town of Shiprock. Getting any closer to it was not an easy option since the Navajo people view this rock as sacred and keep it off limits for fear of white men stirring up the souls of their dead ancestors.

So, we pulled over to the side of 666 to take some photos. Unfortunately, the fences and telephone lines made it difficult to get an unobstructed view, but we did our best. In his excitement to be the first to photograph the monolith, Tommy ran out of the RV barefoot onto the grass alongside the road, oblivious to the fact that the grass was full of burrs. Thank goodness for the surgical tweezers Herb carries in his first aid kit. It probably took him close to an hour to remove the tiny, yet quite painful, burrs. I think the souls of the ancient Navajo were making sure we didn't come any closer.

Travelogue

Rafting across Heron LakeTo this day, Herb's eyes glaze over with a dreamy look at the mere mention of Heron Lake. First, there was its natural beauty--picture a gorgeous mountain lake set among tall pine trees. Then there was the incredible cocktail opportunities--sunset views over the lake right from our campsite. Lastly, and probably most importantly, was the solitude and tranquility--we shared the entire lake with only one other camper, and he was always out on his sailboat. Heron Lake is not for those that need a lot of excitement and activities (which is probably why it wasn't crowded), but for us, at this point in time, it was paradise. My only problem was going to be convincing Herb to ever leave.

The lake had a no-wake regulation (which probably accounted for its tranquility), making it a perfect place for us to use our Avon inflatable boat with its 6 h.p. motor. We launched the boat right from our campsite, which was set back from the lake about 100 yards. Our campsite should have been right on the lake, but a multi-year drought had made the lake levels terribly low. This, unfortunately, made the approach to the lake quite difficult because the new shoreline was solid muck. We managed to get the boat in without too much mess and putted over to the island in the middle of the lake.

Boys on uninhabited islandIt was great just being out on the lake--big vistas, crystal blue New Mexico sky, and just one sailboat in sight (our neighbor). We did swim, although the lake waters were cool. After all, we were over 7,000 feet above sea level.

That night we barbecued while the kids gathered twigs and branches for a campfire. After watching a perfect sunset over the lake, we ate our dinner by the fire which the kids had built. It was just so unbelievably peaceful here--a pleasant respite from our normally hectic lives.

Lolo of Heron LakeThat night we were awakened by the most incredible thunderstorm I have ever experienced in my life. After one particularly loud crash of thunder, Herb and I bolted upright and looked out the back window behind our bed, which happened to look out over the lake. We were mesmerized. Across the entire sky, there were simultaneous bursts of lightning, more impressive than any fireworks display I have seen. We woke the boys up, and they jumped in bed with us to watch the show. I wish we had thought to film the storm because it's too difficult to describe. Maybe this is what thunderstorms are like out here because of the panoramic vistas, but we New Jerseyians were certainly impressed.

The next morning we rode our bikes about 2 miles down the hill to the Heron Dam--I was not looking forward to the 2 mile uphill climb later. Near the dam, we turned off on a road with signs for the Rio Chama Trail and eventually came to a rock staircase that led down to the river. Leaving our bikes behind, we went down the stairs and walked across a suspension bridge over the river. This was the beginning of the 5 ½ mile Rio Chama Trail that followed the river connecting Heron and El Vado Lake. Probably a great hike, but not on our program for today. We returned to our bikes and road up the steep hill to the campground.

We reluctantly said goodbye to Heron Lake and headed west towards Monument Valley.

Travelogue

We left Santa Fe and drove north on the "High Road to Taos," the most scenic route between the two cities. Our intention was to explore and spend the night in Taos--I say intention because we somehow managed to totally miss Taos, but that comes later. The drive was beautiful, winding through small, isolated mountain towns that seemed little changed since they were first settled by the Spanish centuries ago.

Sanctuario de ChimayoOur first stop was at the Santuario de Chimayo, a small Spanish church that has become known as the "Lourdes of America" because of its legendary healing powers. The story of the church is an interesting one. Back in the early 1800s, a friar approached a light he saw bursting from a hillside and found a crucifix in a hole. He removed the crucifix and brought it to Santa Cruz, but it kept disappearing and reappearing back in its original hole. Thinking that this was a sign of some sort, the crucifix was left in its original hole and a small chapel was built around it. That's when the miraculous healing began. So many people came to the chapel to be cured that in 1816 the small chapel was replaced with a larger adobe mission, which is the current Santuario de Chimayo.

Thinking a little miraculous healing would do us some good, we made a beeline for the small room off the sacristy which contained the hole where the crucifix was originally discovered. Supposedly, the dirt in here is the good stuff that has the power to heal, and no matter how much is removed, it miraculously replenishes itself.

We weren't sure just where to start. We had had a pretty rough start to our summer. Our trip this year almost didn't happen because of Herb's 4-week-long undiagnosable fever. During that time, he was poked and prodded by dozens of doctors unable to discover the source of his problem. One week it was thought to by lymphoma, the next prostate cancer. Then the fever just went away, and so did we. We just loaded up the RV, a month later than planned, and headed west. So now here we were in a Spanish mission in one of the most remote villages in New Mexico, poised in front of a pit of healing dirt--me a breast cancer survivor and Herb with some unknown ailment. Always the analytical ones, we were somewhat skeptical yet willing to give it a go. "How do we do this?" we wondered. What if we aren't actually sick now? Would it still work prophylactically? Do we have to rub the dirt on the site of the ailment? If so, who's going to put dirt on Herb's prostrate? And so on and so on. Finally, I discreetly reached down for some dirt and rubbed it on my chest. Herb still just stood there unsure of what to do. Not wanting to monopolize the healing dirt, I quickly picked up some more dirt and rubbed it on Herb's navel--close enough.

Back on the road to Taos, we continued our scenic drive through forests and small, remote hillside villages. It was really very pretty. As we neared the village of Pilar, we began looking for the road that would lead us up to the Taos Box Canyon West Rim trailhead, a mountain biking trail that sounded really great--7 miles along the very brink of the canyon's rim. Since the directions in the guidebook were pretty confusing, we stopped in a Bureau of Land Management Office where we spoke to a rather unfriendly Native American ranger. He gave us directions, which included mostly dirt roads, but assured us that it was RV friendly.

Naively, we believed him and turned off the High Road to Taos and onto the road he described. At first, the road was quite nice. It was paved and ran along the Rio Grande River past several nice places to camp. Then at the bridge, we turned north onto 567 as the ranger told us, rather than east towards Taos. That's when things got ugly. It had to be absolutely the worst road we have ever been on--dirt, practically straight up, and with turns so tight that Herb would yell, "Lean to the right! or Lean to the Left!" and we would scamper madly across the RV to help keep it from tipping. I admit to having some very uncharitable thoughts about the ranger around this time. To make matters worse, there was no going back--there was no place to turn around and backing down was completely out of the question. Having no choice, we continued the twisting climb out of the canyon. Finally, we reached the rim and the road leveled off. Now what? There was nothing up here--no people, no trees, no signs. After some futile attempts at finding the trailhead (and not really feeling comfortable about leaving the RV here unattended), we decided to forget about the mountain biking. "Let's just go to Taos," I said. Easier said than done. There was no way we were going to go back down the horrible road we just came up, and to get back across the Taos Box Canyon would take us over 50 miles out of our way.

Anyhow, that's how we missed Taos...

Travelogue

I was really looking forward to visiting Santa Fe. We had spent the last week and a half touring places of natural beauty—which I truly love probably more than anything else—but now I was ready for the excitement and vibrancy that you can only find in a city. I think it’s the contrast that makes things interesting. Herb, however, would be perfectly happy if he never stepped foot in a city again—the natural wonders are enough for him. Anyway, since I’m the one that plans the trips, here we were.

Herb and Boys at the Georgia O’Keefe MuseumOur first inclination was to find a campground as close to the city as possible. With this goal in mind, we headed to Babbitt’s RV Resort, which advertised that they were located right in town. They weren’t kidding—it was right on Business I25 with traffic roaring by. This just wouldn’t do, so we headed about 5 miles out of town to a more secluded, wooded campground called Rancheros de Santa Fe, which had a very pretty pool surrounded by an adobe wall (very southwestern), a rec hall where there were movies shown every night, and a nice hiking trail through the woods around the campground—definitely a much better selection. That night we watched a movie about Santa Fe, which helped us narrow down what we wanted to do the next day.

The next morning we set off early, eager to explore the old town of Santa Fe. Our first exposure to the town was driving along Canyon Road, an old Indian trail which is now a chic avenue lined with art galleries, upscale shops, and fine southwestern cuisine restaurants. Apparently, Santa Fe, with its natural and architectural beauty, has become an artist’s mecca and hundreds of them have come here to live and work.

We were quite pleasantly surprised that we were able to park our RV so easily in a lot right on the edge of the old part of town, in walking distance to everything. Cameras in hand, we set out on a walking tour of old Santa Fe where I was having a great time just wandering along the narrow streets, admiring the architecture. Everything was adobe—public buildings, churches, and even private homes.

Our first stop was the San Miguel Mission, the oldest church in North America--built in 1626. Of course it’s made of—you guessed it—adobe. The church was partially destroyed during the Pueblo Revolt and rebuilt again in 1710. This time, the Spaniards made it stronger, with thick walls and high windows. It’s a beautiful example of the Spanish mission churches of that time.

Our next stop was the Loretto Chapel, the Spanish church famous for its “Miraculous Spiral Staircase.” This staircase rises from the floor of the church to the choir loft in 360 degree spirals, with no visible means of support. According to legend, it was constructed by a carpenter who mysteriously appeared, built the staircase, and then disappeared without leaving his name or receiving pay. The staircase was quite beautiful and very amazing, but I was miffed by the pretty stiff admission price they charged to see it—I thought churches were supposed to be open to everyone.

Next we headed over to the heart of the old city, the Plaza, where we strolled through the aisles of vendors selling their wares—jewelry, clothing, arts and crafts, etc. We purchased some souvenirs to help us remember our visit to Santa Fe. Tommy bought a Native American dream catcher, which, according to legend, traps bad dreams and only allows good dreams to get through. He still has it hanging over his bed and I’ve never heard him complain of a bad dream since. Andrew purchased a decorated bunch of dried red chile peppers, called a ristra, which he still has hanging in his room to this day—minus a few chile peppers which have been eaten by some of this more daring friends. I chose a statue of Kokopelli, the hump-backed flute player that is sacred to the Native Americans of the Southwest. This cute little figure represents mischief and fertility, which, if you ask me, is a pretty dangerous combination. I think it made Herb pretty nervous.

Continuing through the Plaza, we were fortunate to find an unoccupied bench, where we sat for awhile and listened to a nearby band playing New Age music. I had never seen anyone play a pan flute before, so I was pretty mesmerized with its fascinating sound. Totally smitten with the whole Santa Fe experience, I’m sure I was grinning from ear to ear—much to Herb’s amusement.

Anxious to continue our Santa Fe experience with some genuine southwestern cuisine, we asked a local storekeeper for a recommendation for lunch. To our surprise, we were told that most restaurants were closed on Sundays. I would have thought that Sunday would have been a very big day for restaurants in the city—there certainly were enough tourists around. Finally, we were told about Cafe Pasqual’s, which was said to have excellent food, but very long waiting times for a table. They were right—the wait was over an hour. Fortunately, however, we were able to put our name on a list, leave to wander around some more, and come back at a designated time. When we returned, we were seated almost immediately in the noisy yet festive dining room, whose walls were covered with beautiful hand-painted Mexican tiles and murals. Everyone in the place seemed to be having a good time. The menu had some very interesting choices. I was glad the kids were willing to be a little more adventurous than their usual selection of chicken fingers and cheeseburgers—the fact that we were starving probably helped. We each ordered something different so that we could sample each other’s choices. All the dishes, however, had a common theme—chile peppers and more chile peppers. There was a choice as to how hot you wanted them, but none of us had the guts, or esophagus, to go for the hot ones. Everything was absolutely delicious. It definitely pays to take advantage of local knowledge when it comes to restaurant selection.

The last thing on our agenda was to visit one of the many museums in the city, but the problem was which one to choose. Being the multicultural city that it is, Santa Fe has dozens of museums representing the art and history of its three major cultures—Spanish, Mexican, and Native American.

We decided to visit the new Georgia O’Keefe Museum, because we were familiar with her work and very much admired her style. The museum, which was practically brand new, contains the largest collection of her paintings and sculptures in the world. Although we had seen many examples of her desert landscapes in books, it was a wonderful experience to actually see these works in person. Besides the familiar picture of the cow’s skull drying in the desert, we saw dozens of other less familiar, but no less beautiful, desert landscapes. It was definitely a worthwhile stop.

On the way back to the campground, we stopped to pick up some groceries. The only reason I mention this is that I was amazed at something I had never seen in a grocery store before—giant burlap bags full of peppers, the size of something you would see in the garden department at Home Depot. These people were really into their peppers.

That night we just hung around and enjoyed the campground, which really was quite lovely. After running on the trail that surrounded the campground, we went for a dip in the pool. Later, after dinner we roasted s’mores over a campfire. The kids even went to a movie in the rec hall. It was probably one of the nicest campgrounds we’ve stayed in.

It’s hard to really get to know a city in a day, but I think we really did get a good sampling. We had walked through most of the old town, toured a few old Spanish churches, shopped along the Plaza, sat in the park listening to New Age music, eaten some great southwestern food, and seen Georgia O’Keefe’s paintings of the New Mexican desert. It was definitely a place to come back to and explore deeper.

Travelogue

On our way to Santa Fe, we decided it was time to get off the Interstate onto the more scenic Turquoise Trail. This 48-mile road winds through pinyon pines and junipers through old mining towns, now populated with craft shops and New Age artists.

As seen on TVAlong the drive we came across the very unique and entertaining Tinkertown Museum. Just one look at the outside of the museum told us just how different this place was going to be. There were wacky wood-carved characters sitting on the porch, and the walls of the building were made from thousands of glass bottles embedded in the concrete. Once inside, things got even more interesting. We were now wandering through a miniature wild-west town, populated with more than 1,200 hand-carved figures, many of which were animated. At the push of a button, many of the figures would come to life and start singing, playing instruments, or just going about their business. There was even an entire Circus carved in miniature. The amazing part was that all these wooden carvings had been done by one man--Ross Ward. What had started as a hobby in his teens became a life-long passion. Besides the miniature towns, there was much more to entertain us (for the mere price of a quarter), such as Esmeralda, the Fortune Teller, and Otto, the one-man band.

After leaving Tinkertown, we continued north on the Turquoise Trail. We would have loved to have taken the Sandia Crest National Scenic Byway, the 14-mile side road that climbs over 4,000 feet to the summit of the 10,678 foot high Sandia Crest, but unfortunately RVs and trailers were strongly discouraged. Instead, we continued on to Santa Fe.

Travelogue

There's a lot to see and do along the section of I40 that goes through Arizona and New Mexico without straying too far from the highway, making it easy to break up a long driving day with some fun stops. Petroglyph National Monument, right outside of Albuquerque, was one of these.

Herb and Boys on Petroglyph HikeAt the Visitor Center, we learned that the park contained more than 25,000 Native American and Hispanic petroglyphs, making it one of the largest petroglyph concentrations in all of North America. The ranger told us that the best way to see them up close was to hike one of the 3 paved trails in the Boca Negra Canyon section of the park just down the road from the Visitor Center.

We chose to hike the Mesa Point Trail, which started at the base of the mesa and climbed through a series of switchbacks to the summit. Along the way we saw enough petroglyphs for a lifetime. Most of the ones we saw were carved between 1300 and 1600 by the ancestors of today's Pueblo Indians. By chipping away at the desert varnish on the surface of these volcanic rocks, they created beautiful images in the lighter colored rock underneath. We saw images of birds, serpents, reptiles, spirals, and our unanimous favorite--Kokopelli, the hump-backed flute player. From the top of the mesa, there were tremendous views of the nearby Sandia Mountains and the outskirts of the city of Albuquerque. The whole hike took us about a half hour.