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Southwestern charm and cuisine

Written by Chaz on 18 March 2012

After Christmas, my aunt, uncles, grandmother and I went exploring in both of New Mexico’s most well-known cities. First, we drove into Albuquerque and split along gender lines — my uncles and I drove just west of downtown to Petroglyph National Monument, where we took a short hike through ancient rock drawings that also afforded us a great view of the city.

Albuquerque is well-known for its annual balloon fiesta, and while I have never made it for the festival itself, we got a glimpse of what I’ve missed as we were driving away from the monument.

We drove into Albuquerque’s historic center, the Old Town. The business hub of the city moved east many years ago with the arrival of the railroad, but the square is still fun to see for the old San Felipe de Neri church. We stopped in at a nearby restaurant, the Church Street Cafe, for some chips and margaritas, which were fine but not as great as we were hoping.

My uncle was very amused by a dog on the roof of a shop, spotted as we walked back to the car. Dogs were always on roofs when I spent four weeks in a small Mexican town several years ago, but my uncle still loved it.

The next morning, my uncle whipped up some delicious huevos rancheros, a common breakfast dish, to fortify us for the day’s travels.

We drove into Santa Fe, beginning our visit at the city’s central square, which probably looks nicer in summer.

We headed over to the Georgia O’Keeffe museum, which was very cool but not that big. O’Keeffe spent much of her life in New Mexico and drew inspiration from its landscapes. We then walked over to the Loretto Chapel, famous for its miraculous spiral staircase. The church had originally been told it was not architecturally possible to build a staircase to its choir loft, until a mysterious carpenter came into town, built it, and left before he was paid. That’s a very nice story, but the staircase is nothing special, I thought. It has no visible support structure, which people think is miraculous in and of itself, but obviously staircases can be built this way or this one would fall down.

We couldn’t get into the best Mexican place in town for lunch, so we headed to a little place off the square for tortilla soup and enchiladas.

On the way back to my uncle’s house, we stopped in Madrid, N.M., for a drink at the Mine Shaft Tavern. Madrid, pop. 149, has become something of an artists’ colony, with galleries lining the small highway. The bar was actually pretty hopping.

I had to work the next day, but my grandmother and cousin spent some of the afternoon make pizzelle, which we all enjoyed.

My uncle grilled mahi mahi for tacos for our final dinner in New Mexico, with some shrimp to go with it. We had all the fixings, and I made margaritas to accompany them.

The resulting tacos were light but full of flavor. Fish tacos are one of the best things about the success of my seafood odyssey.

The next day, my uncle drove my grandmother, my other uncle and me to the airport for our flight out of town. We got one last photo together in the airport lobby to commemorate a wonderful and very memorable holiday together.

Posted in New Mexico | 2 Responses »
Tags: Ethnic eats, Family, Food, Holidays, Nature, Sightseeing

Christmas with the family

Written by Chaz on 6 February 2012

Though the real world usually makes it harder to spend time traveling, sometimes it makes it easier. I’ve spent much of the last couple months in Texas for work, and since I was going to be so close, I decided to spend the Christmas holiday at my uncle Eric’s house just east of Albuquerque, New Mexico. My grandmother was also coming down from Fargo, North Dakota, where my dad grew up, and my other uncle was coming with her from Minneapolis. So I was very happy to have the opportunity to join all of them.

I arrived a few days before Christmas, and had to do some work the day after I arrived, which was still a normal working day. Luckily, my uncle, who is an avid and proud hunter, provided his home office, which was more than adequate.

We had a ton of snow in New Mexico the day after I arrived, and our trip into Albuquerque to pick my grandmother and uncle Joel up at the airport was a bit dicey. They had even closed the interstate. But we made it there and back safely, and set to work immediately taking full advantage of the snow with my uncle’s ATV, some rope and a couple sleds.

Though probably not the safest activity I’ve ever engaged in (“Try not to fall off into a cactus,” my uncle said), it was really fun.

The culinary portion of my time in New Mexico began on Christmas eve, when my cousin helped my grandmother make some holiday cookies before my grandmother turned her attention to our family’s Christmas eve tradition: oyster stew.

Oyster stew, it turns out, is very simple. You just cook the oysters until the edges curl and combine with butter and cream, then serve. It only took a few minutes before we were ready to sit down at the table.

My seafood odyssey has come a long way, but oysters are still a little much for me. I didn’t object to the stew, though. What’s not to like about butter and cream? And I guess this is why they call them oyster crackers.

We woke up the next morning to a pile of presents from Santa Claus and a delicious egg bake prepared by my uncle Eric.

After presents and breakfast, my uncles, my cousin and I tied the sleds back onto the ATV and headed out for some more sledding (if you can call it that).

Ever the outdoorsman, my uncle couldn’t conceal his glee when we found some bloody snow that had been the site of someone’s dinner.

We headed home to make the Christmas turkey, and my uncle and grandmother worked together for a while in the kitchen on getting things ready. My uncle had found his mother’s old kitchen apron under the Christmas tree, apparently salvaged from his childhood home, and was seen sporting it in the kitchen for much of the rest of the week. I love the traditional turkey meal (it’s a big part of why I love Thanksgiving), and it turned out wonderfully. Of course, there was a little familial strife in the kitchen along the way, but what can you do.

We suited up the next morning to head out to Sandia Peak for some skiing. It was my first time skiing outside of the beautiful state of Pennsylvania, and the conditions were way better, just as everyone says. We were very fortunate to have gotten as much snow as we did. I read in the newspaper that New Mexico had the best skiing in the country that week.

My trip was off to a great start!

Posted in New Mexico | 1 Response »
Tags: Chilling with the locals, Cooking, Family, Food, Skiing, Snow

Final destination

Written by Emmy on 7 October 2011

After our picnic, we bid farewell to the Grand Canyon and hit the open road.

Although the Grand Canyon was our last real destination, the remote North Rim is a bit far from all commercial airports. Since we planned to fly out of Phoenix in the early afternoon the next day, we had decided that we would get a bit closer to reduce pre-flight rush. So we drove the deserted highways of Arizona and made our way to the first real city beyond the canyon, Flagstaff.

Along the way, we passed mesa after mesa, cactus after cactus, and very few other cars. These are the roads that 75 miles per hour speed limits and cruise control were made for.

The only real landmarks along the way were two national monuments, neither of which I had ever heard of before picking up the area map. Contained within the same 35-mile loop detour off the highway, the Wupatki National Monument and Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument are definitely removed. Wupatki, where we stopped for an emergency bathroom visit and a NPS passport stamp, is considered a sacred place among many Native American tribes. Sunset Crater, where we arrived after the visitor center had already closed, was formed by several volcanos back when Arizona was a more fiery place.

We pulled into Flagstaff with storm clouds looming overhead. I had read all about a hotel in historic downtown Flagstaff and so reserved us a room. The Weatherford Hotel was definitely unconventional. I think there were more barstools than rooms in the establishment. Flagstaff lived its heyday in the 1800s during westward expansion. The town was christened on the country’s centennial — how it came to be named after the pole hoisting the stars and stripes. The Weatherford was a relic from that era, which meant that it lacked some more modern amenities. But upon arrival, all we really needed was a long shower to wash the canyon off of ourselves.

After washing up, we headed to Beaver Street Brewery, a restaurant highly recommended by all of our usual sources. We ordered a couple of the local brewery’s wares and tried to stick to local fare as well. We started with the thus appropriately named Arizona quesadillas, which were filled with chicken and served with sides of fresh guacamole and salsa.

We asked our waiter what he liked best and he recommended any of the flatbread pizzas and one of the house platters. We had already decided he was pretty awesome, so we followed his directions to a tee. We split a southwestern chicken pizza, which was topped with a chicken, tons of veggies and a cilantro pesto (take that, cilantro haters — even if you might not be able to help yourselves). We also had the shrimp taco platter, which we both thought was phenomenal.

After dinner, we strolled past the Flagstaff train station and decided to check it out. Amtrak was my primary mode of transit between home and Brown, so I became quite accustomed to delays on the Northeast Regional line. But we’re talking 15 to 30 minute delays. Apparently on the western lines, like the one that runs through Flagstaff, delays of one, two, ten hours are basically par for the course. Without an agenda for the rest of the night, we decided to sit on a bench and wait with the angsty passengers of the evening Southwest Chief.

While we were waiting, we must have seen ten giant freight trains roll through. Flagstaff sits on the highly trafficked Los Angeles to Chicago route of the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railway, more commonly known by its acronym, BNSF. I’m not sure I have ever seen so many large aggressive freight trains before. We discussed the politics of transcontinental trains until the Chief finally arrived about an hour after schedule. We waited till the train had departed the station and then we retired for the evening. However, the freight didn’t stop just because we did. The trains ran all night, which was a bit more disruptive than our prior few nights under the stars had been. Price of capitalism?

We woke up in the morning and undertook our largest challenge to date. More strenuous than Half Dome, more tiring than the Grand Canyon, completed on less coffee than Angels Landing: unpacking, cleaning and repacking Dorothy. We managed to do quite a number on her in two weeks. If you happen to rent a black Dodge Grand Caravan in Phoenix anytime soon, just don’t open the stow ’n go compartments.

Before leaving Flagstaff, we managed to sneak in a quick and authentic breakfast at MartAnne’s Burrito Palace. Chaz ordered based upon the restaurant’s name and had a breakfast burrito.

I followed their tagline — “the house that chilaquiles built” — and went with the traditional Mexican dish of scrambled eggs, tortillas, cheese and green salsa. Both portions were enormous and came with beans, rice, potatoes, lettuce and tomato, and tortillas. Breakfast was delicious, and I’m not sure I ate another full meal for the rest of the day.

After finishing breakfast, we powered south to Phoenix. Over the course of the drive, we dropped almost 7,000 feet in elevation, a shocking accomplishment considering it never looked like we left the desert. We stopped briefly for gas and then pulled up in front of the Delta terminal at Sky Harbor International Airport. We couldn’t both bring Dorothy back, much as we would have liked to bid her a teary farewell together, because of the sheer amount of luggage we had. So Chaz took our girl home while I babysat what can only be dubbed a mountain of baggage.

The final count on Dorothy’s odometer was 2,417.3 miles — a fairly awesome feat for two weeks. (Never mind that we flew more miles than that just to get to our starting point.) From the windows of our minivan we had seen deserts and the ocean, packed freeways and empty country roads, mountains and vast flat expanses. We had eaten (and spilled) countless meals in her confines, possibly broken a GPS system we never asked for in the first place, and listened to the same classic songs on infinite repeat. (And happily, we managed all this without damaging the car or earning a single traffic or parking ticket.) But now it was time to board our plane back east.

We flew together to Detroit, where another journey once began and others are likely still to come. “You don’t get to be silver without going to a hub a few times,” Chaz said, when I pointed out this symmetry. And so we hugged goodbye and ran to our separate planes, ending yet another fantastic voyage for the checkpoint.

Posted in Flagstaff, Travel | No Responses »
Tags: Departures, Ethnic eats, Food, Friendly natives, Sentimental reflections, Transportation

Emerging from the canyon’s depths

Written by Chaz on 7 October 2011

The alarm went off at 4 a.m., and we were up and striking camp by 4:15. We had made the decision after packing all our things the day before that we could afford to bring the requisite items for making hot coffee, and I was extremely grateful that we did. (Even if we did have to both drink the coffee straight out of the percolator.)

Though it took us a little while to take down the tent, pack everything up and tie everything back onto our backpacks, both of our packs ended up much more securely attached than they had been the day before, when there had been a little bit of uncomfortable shifting back and forth. Given that we had the much harder trek out of the canyon ahead of us, we were both happy about that.

We got on the trail at about 5:45 after filling our water bottles and making one last stop at the composting toilets at our campground. Though the sun was still at least an hour from rising over the crest of the canyon, it was already light out, and we were able to put away our flashlights nearly immediately. We made excellent time, setting a timer to ensure that we took regular stops for hydration and snacking. We took a long stop for more turkey-muenster-avocado sandwiches, and to prop our legs up, which we read helps your body drain waste products out of your leg muscles to reduce soreness. (Ew, though.) We met a few interesting people along the way and enjoyed sharing and hearing Grand Canyon stories.By the end, we were sharing our tips, experts that we had become.

Though the last, steepest 1.7-mile section after Supai Tunnel wasn’t exactly fun, the hike out really wasn’t that bad, and we returned to Dorothy in a mood of extreme triumph by about 10:15. We threw all our things in the car, refilled our water bottles, and headed back down to the North Rim Lodge, where we walked out onto Bright Angel Point to reflect on where we had just come from.

After a few more bathroom stops (that hydration really gets to you), we drove away from the rim to a picnic area that overlooks the canyon for one last meal with a view. We couldn’t resist a celebratory cocktail — we considered that we had more than earned it — and we whipped up the leftovers from Mexico night as well as some macaroni and cheese, doctored to have some Southwestern flair.

Amazing memories made, we packed everything back into Dorothy and said our goodbyes to the Grand Canyon, grateful for a wonderful visit.

Posted in Grand Canyon | No Responses »
Tags: Departures, Exercise, Exhaustion, Getting a real workout, One with nature, Triumph, Views

Into the canyon

Written by Emmy on 5 October 2011

On Monday morning, we rose early, ready for adventure. We made coffee at the campsite and started to get organized, but decided that we were making way too much noise for the early hour and so packed up camp and relocated to the trailhead. Once we had parked Dorothy, we got to work trying to assemble our make-shift backpacking packs. To the expert hikers in the parking lot, we must have been embarrassingly amateur — our belongings were spread around Dorothy, we were tossing twine and a knife back and forth, things were falling out of the car and all the while, I kept yelling, “Hydrate!” (I was concerned about our insufficient water intake.)

After over ninety minutes of struggles, we got it all together. Highlights included a percolator strapped to the outside of my backpack and Chaz’s Crocs dangling from his.

Inside (and outside) of those two packs, we were carrying:

One tent
Two sleeping bags
One makeshift first aid kit
Two flashlights
Extra clothing, fleeces
Crocs
Four sandwiches
Five waters
Six Clif bars
Three apples, one banana
Two cereal bars
One gallon Ziploc cashews, one small bag honey roasted peanuts, one small bag Thai chili lime cashews (collectively referred to as the NUT EXPLOSION)
One bag peanut butter crackers
One bag cheddar Bunnies
One giant tupperware of tortellini and spicy chicken meatballs
One Ziploc bell pepper strips
Map, permit
Car keys
Two wallets
Two phones
Camera
Knife, twine
Two packs of baby wipes
Sunblock, chapstick
Trash bag
Two toothbrushes, toothpaste, face wipes
Two packs gum
Ground coffee in Ziploc
Percolator, pot, stove
Propane, lighter
Fire-handling gloves

Puts our previously excessive-seeming Half Dome list to shame. Finally, at 8:03 a.m., only about an hour after predicted start time, we were on the trail.

We hiked to Supai Tunnel, the first destination along the North Kaibab Trail. Mules (carrying people) go just as far as the tunnel, so we encountered quite a bit of their droppings along the way. The walk was just under two miles and was fairly steep. As we criss-crossed down the hill on switchbacks, I could only imagine — with slight fear — trying to walk back up them the next day.

Just like I had a difficult time imagining what the Grand Canyon would be like until I saw it, I had not known quite what to expect when climbing down the inside. Here was this giant thing and we were going to get in it. The first part of the trail was not entirely dissimilar from hiking down a steep peak, like Angels Landing. What was strange was just that the downhill was coming first. It was an odd feeling to descend on fresh legs.

From Supai Tunnel we continued past Eye of the Needle, a landmark on our map, but we’re not quite sure what it was. We crossed over a bridge and then came to a fork in the road. Roaring Springs was to the left — the endpoint recommended for a day hike — and so we decided to go check it out. We hadn’t realized it would be a detour off the planned path, but figured we’d see what was up.

The springs themselves were not especially noteworthy, but we found a bathroom, a water fountain and a good place to take a snack break.

We headed back to the main trail and kept walking. We were now far enough into the canyon that the landscape really began to change into one of a desert. The top of the North Rim, at over 8,000 feet, resembles more of a dense forest. Much of the elevation change we endured was at the start of the climb, condensed into the first few segments, but we would ultimately lose over 4,000 feet over the course of the day — the very reason why I kept insisting we hydrate.

If I had been awestruck by looking over the rim and into the canyon, being inside it was a whole other story. Here we were, scaling down the wall of the Grand Canyon. The facts themselves were pretty awesome, plus the view wasn’t too bad either.

We stopped at Pumphouse Residence, a ranger station complete with a helipad that received equipment drops all day. We tried to make friends with the project managers and park rangers, but they were busy. So we kept on walking. Finally, after 6.8 miles with our packs, we reached Cottonwood Campground. We set up our campsite, one of our more basic but with undoubtedly the best views of all. From our campsite, we could make our the faintest glimpse of the lodge at the North Rim. We had traveled so far during the course of the day, but because our journey had been mostly just downhill, we weren’t actually that far from where we had started.

We gobbled down a lunch of turkey, roasted eggplant and tomato spread on whole wheat with a side of several water bottles each. We took a little walk to explore the creek beside the campsite and got our feet wet. We sat down on a bench and I announced I needed to close my eyes for 10 minutes. An hour later, Chaz announced it was time to get up. During my accidental nap, he explored our surroundings and made friends with some natives, pictured to the right.

We put on more casual footwear and took a brief 1.5-mile walk to Ribbon Falls, a highly recommended sight of beauty just beyond the campsite. The walk was gloriously flat, a nice change on our feet, and our singular backpack was very light. We carried only a water or two and a few cashews, a downgrade from our earlier heft. As we approached the falls, the path splintered — it seems that no visitors could agree on the best route, and so everyone had formed their own. We followed the most legitimate looking one (and also followed the sound of rushing water) and soon found ourselves in front of the majestic falls, which get their name from the unusual way they flow, appearing just like ribbons.

Hot and eager to cool down, we each took a quick rinse in the falls, which were flowing quite intensely. I gave Chaz a lot of abuse for his Crocs over the course of our two-week trip, but they came in handy in this particular moment.

After thoroughly rinsing ourselves off in Ribbon Falls, we began to make our way back to Cottonwood. Because it was so late in the day, we were really the only ones on the short trail. Most people begin their hikes very early in the morning so as to avoid the heat of the day. During the summer, temperatures inside the canyon can reach 120 degrees. Park rangers also recommend hiking after 4 p.m., but we’re still perplexed as to why you might want to do the whole hike in the dark.

The distance from the North Rim to the Colorado River is twice that of the South Rim to the Colorado River, the reason why we did not go all the way to the river but many South Rim hikers do. There are also many people who hike from rim to rim in a day, about a 21-mile journey. We also heard in the visitor center about hikers who do rim-to-rim-to-rim in one day, but that’s a journey we’re not quite ready for yet.

Back at Cottonwood, we unpacked our propane stove and began preparing dinner. Most hikers carry down freeze-dried food, but the checkpoint never compromises on cuisine. We had lugged a very heavy tupperware full of leftover tortellini and meatballs, to which we added a few slices of bell pepper. When I played soccer in high school, we always had a pasta party the night before a big game in order to load up on carbs for energy. I viewed this dinner as our personal pasta party, preparation to climb out of the canyon. Never mind that we were both eating out of the pot; we still managed a gourmet experience as we watched the dimming light in the canyon change from desert orange to salmon.

By 7:30 it was getting dark and we seemed to be losing the battle against a herd of angry bees eager to eat our food. Because we planned to get up before the sun, we decided it was about time to get into our tent. As we climbed in, we could see the stars beginning to shine overhead. I don’t think I have ever seen such a clear view of the constellations in my life.

Posted in Grand Canyon | 1 Response »
Tags: Amateur hour, Cooking, Exhaustion, Extreme adventure, Food, Views

The adventure spirit of the southwest

Written by Chaz on 5 October 2011

Our second day at the Grand Canyon started early. If there’s one thing I got better at on this trip, it was getting up early. (Actually, it was probably endurance hiking.) But we were in the car heading to watch the sunrise from Point Imperial within minutes after our 5:15 alarm. The cold was extreme, and we were both wearing every layer we had brought.

Point Imperial is the highest point on the North Rim, and we were joined there by two other extremely intense photographers to catch the sun’s first rays.

Though we had planned to make coffee at Point Imperial and enjoy the sunrise, our lighter’s premature demise prevented us from doing so, so we hightailed it back to the North Rim to visit the Rough Rider Saloon, which starts each day as a coffee shop before transitioning to a bar just before lunch hour. As we drove, the sun’s new light on the rim’s landscape looked beautiful.

We took our coffee out to the porch, where we sat on the Adirondack chairs, contemplated the canyon in front us, and began to plan our day. A young man came over to us, and seeing the way we were studying our maps, asked whether we were planning a trip into the canyon. I admitted that I was flirting with the idea of trying a short one, but that we didn’t have any real hiking backpacks, which would make it tough. He encouraged us to try it anyway. He had just completed a “rim-to-rim” hike, and said it was amazing.

Encouraged by this advice, we returned our campsite after replenishing our lighter and chocolate supply at the general store. We packed our bags with snacks and lunch for the day’s hike and drove over to the backcountry permit office to discuss our plans with a ranger.

Though the ranger seemed pretty skeptical of my plan to tie our sleeping bags onto day packs, she encouraged us to go for it. “If it were me, I would definitely do it,” she said. So we headed back to our campsite once more for a dry run of our packing system, using twine to tie our sleeping bags — which were not exactly compact models — onto our backpacks. Lo and behold, it worked, and while our packs were far from light, we decided to pull the trigger on an overnight trip down into the canyon. One quick trip back to the permit office, and we had an official permit in hand for one night at Cottonwood Campground, seven miles down the North Kaibab Trail into the Grand Canyon.

Our plans finalized, we were at last ready to start our hike for the day. We had decided to tackle the trail out to Widfors Point, which winds five miles through the North Rim forest out to a beautiful overlook. The first two miles were peppered with intermittent views into the canyon, and then we meandered through the forest for the last three before spilling out onto the end of Widfors Point, where we had lunch: turkey, muenster, avocado, cashew sandwiches and our leftover Jacob Lake Inn cookies.

We hiked back to the car and returned to our campsite, where we went into full production mode for the food we’d need for our trip into the canyon. Once we had a few things squared away, we were ready to relax for the evening, so we drove back down to the rim and ordered drinks at the Rough Rider Saloon to take out onto the porch for sunset. The Adirondack chairs were much more crowded than earlier that morning, but we managed to snag two. The pastel colors of the day’s last sunlight on the ridges of the canyon were just gorgeous.

We returned to our campsite for a long-awaited Mexico night. We had a full selection of salsa, guacamole, chips and Mexican beer to kick off dinner, and Emmy whipped up a delicious Southwestern-inspired dish of spicy chicken sausage, refried beans with jalapeño, a blend of Mexican cheeses, fresh bell peppers, onion and corn salsa. It was perhaps her best campsite creation, and went very well with our surroundings.

Taken during a daytime encore.

As we cooked, I had to make two emergency runs to the general store as we realized we had neither propane nor graham crackers. But once we were restocked, fed and s’moresed, we headed to bed early, excited and nervous for the odyssey that lay ahead.

Posted in Grand Canyon | 1 Response »
Tags: Food, Friendly natives, One with nature, Planning, Sunsets, Views

First views from the North Rim

Written by Emmy on 4 October 2011

After our brief stay in Zion, it was time to get back in Dorothy and hit the road. The journey to the North Rim wove through very quiet roads. Our map suggested we would pass several towns, but we didn’t find much more than occasional standalone gas-station-slash-motel-slash-convenience-store.

One of those one-stop shops is the famed Jacob Lake Inn, which sits about 40 miles north of the North Rim. The road to the North Rim closes during the snowy months of the year and Jacob Lake marks the turn-off for said road. The Inn is well-known for its restaurant, partly because the food is good and partly because it’s the only place for many miles.

Hours after our Angels Landing climb, we were ready to eat. I thought about ordering a chicken sandwich with feta cheese and sun-dried tomatos, but Chaz told me that was too New York for Jacob Lake, Ariz. So instead, I had the Grand Cheese — a take on the classic sandwich that lived up to its name — and Chaz had the Grand Bull, a sandwich best illustrated by its close-up below.

We also got a bag of fresh cookies to go, based on recommendations from a park ranger at Zion. We also had been passing billboards advertising Jacob Lake’s cookies for miles.

Many national parks are surrounded by national forests, and the Grand Canyon is no exception. We entered Kaibab National Forest, a vast expanse of flat lands and very dense trees, long before reaching the canyon. Kaibab translates to mean “mountain lying down” in Navajo, which is basically what the canyon itself is. I was expecting desert flowers and cacti and was sort of surprised at how lush our surroundings were, but I guess that’s what happens at elevations of over 8,000 feet, even in Arizona.

We finally reached the canyon and after briefly stopping in the visitor center, made a beeline for the overlook at the Grand Canyon Lodge. (“I need to see the Grand Canyon right now,” Chaz demanded when I asked if we wanted to set up camp first.) We walked out to Bright Angel Point, a lookout just south of the lodge, in order to get a fuller view of the canyon below.

I knew the Grand Canyon would be spectacular, but it was hard to imagine how it would really look up close. I had this image in my head of us standing on a true edge, that it would be one straight drop down and visiting would be a balancing act. Though we were suspended on the rim (with tons of railings, mom!), what lay in front of us was less of a sheer drop and more just a vast expanse of truly unique landscape. I could not get over just how big the canyon was. Stretched out in front of us, it was just so captivating and unlike anything I had ever seen before.

We went to the campsite and set up our tent. We got back in Dorothy and drove to Cape Final, another overlook point. We missed some details in our intro at the visitor center and discovered that what we thought was going to be a little walk would actually be a four-mile round-trip hike. Given that it was already late afternoon and we had plans for sunset, it was going to be a little tight. Rather than skip the walk, we decided to “beast it,” and took the path at a speed walk and jogged over some of the flat parts. Even with a brief stop at the end of the trail for an incredible view — video below! — we completed the whole excursion in just about an hour.

We hopped back in the car and motored to Cape Royal, a recommended sunset-viewing location. We brought our baggie of Jacob Lake cookies to enjoy in the dimming light.

We found ourselves in the Olympics of scenic photographers as everyone around us set up tripods and timers and long lenses for the beautiful sunset. Over the course of our many voyages together, Chaz and I have had the privilege of seeing some truly remarkable sunsets. We ran through a list while sitting atop the canyon, trying to pick out our favorites. It was hard to choose because of how different the landscapes all were. This was no exception; watching the sun dip behind the crevices of the Grand Canyon was truly a unique vision.

After lingering in the last rays of light, we made our way back the campground for a dinner of pesto tortellini with spicy chicken meatballs. A week and a half into our supplies, our lighter had died, our chocolate turned mushy and our graham crackers stale, so we decided to forgo s’mores till we had a chance to visit the general store. We went to sleep at our usual bedtime of 9 p.m. in order to wake up and explore the next morning.

Posted in Grand Canyon | No Responses »
Tags: Food, One with nature, Sunsets, Views

Yet another city of angels

Written by Chaz on 2 October 2011

Lest we ever get a good, full night’s sleep, we rose on Saturday at 5:30. We had decided to take on Zion Canyon’s most challenging day hike, Angels Landing, before leaving. The 2.4-mile trail goes up dozens of switchbacks before climbing up a steep ridge to the summit, an enormous rock promontory in the middle of the canyon. The name, Angels Landing, came from a 1916 visitor who proclaimed that only an angel would ever be able to get to the summit. But the park manager of the time was undeterred, quickly building a path to the top.

Angels Landing

After making coffee, eating a light breakfast and striking camp, we checked out of the campground, moved the car to the visitor center and boarded the crowded first shuttle of the day at 6:45 to ride up into the canyon. We were on the trail by 7:15. The trail was steep right from the beginning, running parallel to the canyon for a bit before beginning to ascend the canyon’s western wall pretty dramatically.

After 21 short switchbacks through an area known as Walter’s Wiggle, we arrived at Scout Lookout, which the ranger had assured us was a perfectly respectable place to turn around. And while the view from Scout Lookout was nice, it was nothing compared to the view from the top of Angels Landing, which loomed ahead of us. I took a moment to look over the sheer drop at the edge of Scoot Lookout into the canyon below.

As we began to ascend further, it became obvious that the trail was going to get a lot more treacherous for the final portion.

But it wasn’t immediately obvious just how treacherous it was going to be.

Of course, we were more than prepared after our Half Dome experience, so we soldiered on, making it to the summit by about 9:00. The views were totally unlike any other perspective we had had on Zion Canyon. Because Angels Landing sticks right out into the middle of the canyon, you get breathtaking panoramic views in both directions. For sheer unexpected reward, I think Angels Landing may have been the best hike of our trip.

We headed back down the trail, which was like nothing compared to the nine-mile descent from Half Dome, and we had returned to Dorothy by about eleven. We drove east on the park road, winding through the hills up to a 1.1-mile tunnel, snacking on asiago cheese, tomato spread and crackers.

After driving through the tunnel, we stopped for one last taste of Zion, making the short hike out the Canyon Overlook Trail to a view back towards the canyon. Clearly visible is the winding highway up to the tunnel’s west entrance.

As we drove east out of the park, we kept passing amazing rock formations, like the Checkerboard Mesa.

Before long, we were out of the park’s splendor and back on the flat, open desert road, heading south to the Grand Canyon. Our short detour to Zion couldn’t have been more worth it.

Posted in Zion | 2 Responses »
Tags: Food, One with nature, Sightseeing, Temples, Views

Heading inland to Zion

Written by Chaz on 2 October 2011

Ambition became reality when we awoke at 3:30 a.m. to take quick showers and ready ourselves for the long drive east to Zion National Park. Everything was in the car and ready shortly afterward, and by 4:02, Dorothy was pulling away.

Los Angeles had one last chance to confuse us with its freeway system, but we were ready for it. By 5:30, we had maneuvered from the 405 to the 105 to the 605 to the 10 to the 15, making an essential stop for coffee along the highway. We watched the sun rise over the California desert.

Interstate 15 winds east from Barstow through the Mojave Desert to the Nevada border. And as we approached the Silver State, it became clear that the casinos and outlets started immediately across the border. In fact, the town of Primm, Nev. is right up against the border, positioned as a first temptation for gamblers coming from California or a last hope for those leaving Vegas.

Shortly afterward, around 8:30, we arrived in Vegas, where we stopped for gas, a bathroom stop and a good look at the casinos. It was my first time in the city, and my initial reaction was that it reminded me so much of Macau — which was ironic, since Emmy’s reaction to Macau was that it reminded her of Vegas.

Left: the Wynn casino in Las Vegas. Right: the Wynn casino in Macau.

Northeast of Vegas, I-15 cuts through the rural northwestern corner of Arizona and winds through the Virgin River Gorge, a dramatic rock formation created by the same river that made Zion.

We pulled off the highway in Washington City, Utah for a last supermarket stop and lunch at In-N-Out, which we had missed in California. From there, it was only a short drive into Zion, where we parked Dorothy at our campsite in Watchman Campground and walked back to the visitor center. To reduce congestion, you can’t drive into Zion Canyon, the heart of the park — you have to park and take one of the frequent shuttles. As a result, there aren’t any parking problems in the canyon, and the views are unspoiled by heavy automobile traffic.

Zion was given its name by Mormon farmers who discovered it and believed it to be close to paradise. I really liked the idea that the park was preserved because people saw it and said to themselves: wow, this place is close to God.

After checking in at the visitor center about our best course of action, we hopped on a shuttle and rode to the Weeping Rock stop to begin exploring. The beauty of the canyon was readily apparent.

We hiked from the shuttle stop up a steep trail toward something called Hidden Canyon. As we ascended, the views of the canyon became even more picturesque and panoramic.

The weather was visibly deteriorating, and when we got to Hidden Canyon (surprise — it was a hidden canyon), we quickly turned back around, not wanting to get stuck on the steep trail once it became wet and slippery. We took a short detour to Weeping Rock, and as it had begun to rain, the weeping was even greater than usual.

We walked back to the shuttle and rode up to the last stop, the Temple of Sinawava, where we took a soaked stroll up the paved Riverside Walk along the Virgin River. The canyon gets too narrow for the road to continue, and at the end of the path, it gets too narrow for the path to continue. But, we learned, many people rent special boots to wade through the Narrows, as the section of the river is known, starting above the canyon and hiking through the water back down. It sounded really cool, and it definitely made my next-visit list.

We had to wait a few minutes for a shuttle back to the campground, as the heavy rain had apparently caused a mudslide on a section of the road. Sure enough, we passed a park ranger directing traffic around the debris in the road. According to our shuttle driver, the rainstorm was “one for the record books,” and the subsequent mudslide was “unprecedented.” When we got back to our campsite, we took advantage of a momentary lull in the rain to set the tent up at a record pace, and fortunately, the rain mostly held off for the rest of the evening.

Our campsite at Zion was one of the nicest we stayed, with a beautiful view of the canyon. We settled in to enjoy some appetizers by the fire before dinner. Naturally, given our early wakeup, we were getting quite tired.

As the sun began to set, Emmy whipped up some apple chardonnay chicken sausage with mixed fresh vegetables.

After a round of s’mores, we were more than ready for bed.

Posted in Los Angeles, Travel, Zion | No Responses »
Tags: Apocalyptic weather, Cooking, Food, Long drives, One with nature, Sightseeing, Views

From the PCH to the freeways of LA

Written by Emmy on 2 October 2011

We woke up in Pismo Beach on Thursday morning, packed up the tent and headed into “downtown” Pismo for a quick stop at Old West Cinnamon Rolls before hitting the road. The spot had been recommended by one of our books, so naturally we obliged and ordered one with pecans and one with almonds.

Continuing our drive, we passed through Lompoc, where nearly three-quarters of the world’s flower seeds are grown, and drove by an enormous air force base. We drove through the campus of the University of California at Santa Barbara, where we gave ourselves a self-guided tour. We parked in Santa Barbara and took a brief stroll along the city’s historic State Street. We considered taking a hike into the hills but the morning fog was still obscuring the view. So instead, we went to lunch.

We were far enough south to get authentic Mexican food and so we visited the acclaimed La Super-Rica Taqueria, a brightly colored but tiny restaurant on a street filled with tacos.

Always eager to prove that we can, in fact, handle spice like the natives of any cuisine, we ordered a selection of authentic items from the menu and enjoyed them with a triad of homemade salsas. Chaz tried two different types of taco, while I sampled two less common items — chorizo super rica, a baked casserole meant to be wrapped in tortillas, and a spicy bean gordito.

From Santa Barbara we drove to Ventura, where we stopped by the visitor center for the Channel Islands. Channel Islands National Park is, as the name suggests, in the middle of the ocean. Even though we couldn’t visit the actual park, Chaz still got a stamp in his national parks passport.

From Ventura, we continued down the coast on Highway 1. The scenery was still beautiful, though far less isolated than the hills we’d driven by the day before. We passed through Malibu and its oceanfront homes and eyeballed a few more beaches before turning off PCH in Santa Monica.

From here we hopped from freeway to freeway. I have never seen so many highways in one place before, and they were all SO FILLED with cars.

Back in an urban metropolis, we conducted a few errands. Chaz’s pillow was a casualty of our stay in the Bay Area, so we headed to IKEA in Burbank to pick up a new one. We visited the first ever Trader Joe’s in Pasadena, where Joe himself apparently shops. And then, because it’s hard to resist a giant supermarket, we strolled through the largest Whole Foods I have ever seen.

After another hour of freeway driving, we arrived at our friend Joanna’s house, where her parents graciously hosted us for the evening. We showered and did laundry, the simple luxuries of life, and had a delicious dinner of steak, quinoa, roasted peppers and fresh corn with the Wohlmuths. We ended dinner with fresh figs, which were incredible.

We unpacked and repacked Dorothy, filled her with gas and headed to bed early in order to prepare for our big drive the next morning.

Posted in Los Angeles, Pacific Coast Highway | No Responses »
Tags: Chilling with the locals, Ethnic eats, Food, Markets, Shopping, SO MANY PEOPLE

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