Leaving Las Vegas (Lost Wages), we could tell that we had reached our
turnaround point and were headed the other way, because the sun was now on my
side of the truck instead of Wes’. We passed a portable wash service truck that
was still in a Vegas state of mind, because the sign on the back of the truck
spelled out SPARKLES in blue sequins. Some fighter pilots were performing their
drills in the air as we exited the Vegas city limits.
Americana Sign Watch:
Fill the Tank – Drain the Kids (a gas station)
Chuck-a-Rama Buffet (is the food going in or out?)
Interestingly, the speed limit out here is 75 mph but nobody pushes it. Some
people are even content to drive *below* the speed limit. (Back in the DC area,
if the speed limit was 75, people would be going 90.) Most of the driving has
been pretty easy going; occasionally, a stuffed animal appears at my shoulder,
expecting to be reloaded with kisses, and I was able to order some Zaino online
for Wes before we hit the mountain passes and ran out of signal.
Within a few miles we were out of the desert completely and driving into the
mountains. Some of highways looked like they’d end by slamming dead into an
enormous rock, only to swerve suddenly around it. It was staggering to imagine
the amount of TNT we must have used to blast our way through and make these
roads. No wonder we like to blow things up as a country...we’ve done so much of
it just making roads to connect our cities that now we just can't stop
ourselves.
Eventually we made it past the mountains and into Utah to Cedar City , all
gorgeous red rocks and green hills and blue skies with whipped cream clouds and
we had to ask ourselves, in the face of so much beauty: What were we thinking,
giving all this to the Mormons???
My (British) friend Nicky used to think my home state was pronounced “Mary-land”
until another American friend of hers told her it was not actually a Catholic
Theme Park . Once we got to Mormonland, Wes and I sneaked in some vice by
finally breaking out the bottle of Bordeaux I brought back from France .
Yesterday, we went to Bryce Canyon : http://www.nps.gov/brca/home.htm, which we
reached by taking SR14 through the mountains on a very scenic drive. You know
those squiggly arrow signs we have that tell you the road is going to be bendy
up ahead? They have those arrows running *sideways* on the sign to warn you of
the switchbacks up ahead. It was an incredible drive up to almost 9900 feet
through the Dixie National Forest , all shimmering trees and piles of lava rock,
a few 8% declines (wheeee!) as you whip around those curves, and suddenly –
Navajo Lake that you can view from about 9400 feet. At that altitude, when you
swing your legs out of the truck to get a closer look and a photo, your head
lags behind a few seconds like a balloon on a string.
In spite of it being a National Forest, Dixie had a tiny little city in the
middle of it, with a general store and a gas station and a café, and a realty
office. We passed a cluster of cedar homes with turquoise and purple metal
roofs. Maybe the area is so remote that the local law enforcement hasn’t caught
on that it’s full of squatters? You can almost hear BooBoo Bear saying, “Gee
Yogi, I don’t think the Ranger is going to like this…”
Bryce Canyon was an extension of the spectacular scenery on the drive there. I
had expected it to be something like the Grand Canyon (perhaps a Baby Grand?)
but it is nothing like the Grand Canyon at all. The whole stretch of road that
takes you across it is only 18 miles, and the canyon is not a huge, open, rocky
bowl like the Grand Canyon . It’s more like Skyline Drive , except when you peek
over the sides you see red rock formations and pointy crags and rocks sticking
up like stakes – Keighley thought it looked like God left a box of crayons out
and they melted slightly :)
After Bryce, we were ready for some Scenic Steaks or Scenic Chicken Fingers or
even a Scenic Burger, so we stopped at Ruby’s and ate prime rib while a roving
cowboy serenaded the room with covers of “Mama, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To
Be Cowboys” and a desecration of Johnny Cash’s “The Ring of Fire.” The white
haired, big-haired lady who rang us up had a nametag that called her Ginnie Lee
(of course! – they probably won’t even hire you if you don’t have two names).
The drive back was more eye candy, with a smeary slate blue sky and the sun
baking the rocks in golden shafts as it set.
Today it’s on to Moab , Utah . They say every road through Utah is a scenic
road, and I believe it. This may be the most beautiful of all the U.S. states so
far. Who knew??
What were we thinking, giving all this to the Mormons???