The Factotum's Factotal

From the home office in Kensington, Maryland:

The Monroetorhome Monarch, the Soujourning Sovereign, the Ranchette's Registrar reports the following fascinating and fiddling figures of most petty and picayune persuasion:

Total mileage: 8,168
Average mpg: 8.66
Occupant days in motorhome: 105
Cost per person, per day: $59.90

So, if we were to take as our model the good people of Packwood, Iowa, the Monroetorhome 2008 Cross-country Excursion rates a score of 8341.56 degrees of awesomeness. If you don't understand the Packwood reference, scroll down, click on the link labeled "July", take off your shoes, get something substantial to eat, and start reading.

To quote Earl in the entirety of his speech at the 2002 Branson Reunion, "It's been a pleasure."

Signing off.

In conclusion...

Long before Earl and Barbara set off on July 4^th to cruise the country, Earl sent Barbara and me a detailed itinerary prefaced by a cover letter. A portion of that letter reads:

The trip includes majestic mountains, fantastic forests, limpid lakes, gorgeous geology, ancestral abodes, shifting sands, restless relatives, and a liberal dose of America Deserta – central Nevada. It should be fun.

Mountains. Upon my arrival we dove headlong into the Gallatins, Big Belt, Bitterroot, and the Cascades. Down the road we found the Coastal Range, the Basin and Range, the Colorado Plateau, the San Juans, Colorado Rockies, to name very, very few. Each majestic indeed.

And the forests! The subalpine forests with their lush understory of ferns just daring the firs to block out the sunlight. The alpine forests whose moist but crunchy bed of decomposed needles and cones crinkle and sink under your feet at the same time. The severe ridges and valleys of the Great Basin host sagebrush, needlegrass, and pinyon pines that look thousands of years old. You wonder where they get the water that sustains them, and then you realize that only the human race lives but on the surface of the planet, with little idea of what lies under foot.

Lakes that make you tear up they’re so beautiful. Lake McGregor in MT has not one house, dock, or tire swing among it. It makes you want to have one of each just to yourself. Pend Oreille Lake in ID teems with activity, but its restless beauty is not diminished in the slightest. Crater Lake in OR typifies that the most violent acts in nature often inspire photographs that we use to soothe our spirits. Lake Powell, one of the innumerable man-made lakes provides for millions. Yet how many treasures have we lost in the canyon country as a result of its capture?

Geology. Don’t get me started.

The ancestral abodes of the clan Monroe. Ours, like many families, is peppered with delightful stories and terribly sad ones. The interweaving of these is what makes families stick together, split apart, empathize and criticize. But in the end, each home, apartment, office building, boarding house, scout camp, airstrip, college campus, medical practice, ranch house, and Quonset hut that the Monroe boys and their parents called home adds its own ingredient the unique Monroe flavor.

The shifting sands of the Columbia and the San Juan Islands are just a prelude to what you see in the Desert Southwest of Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado. You see these shores in the rock record from the California Sierras all the way to the ancient, eroded, folded, and faulted Appalachians. The Great Sand Dunes National Park of today is the petrified sand dune of Canyonlands National Park from hundreds of millions of years ago. Is that Elton John’s “Circle of Life” I hear playing in the background?

Restless relatives, after all, are the reason for this excursion in the first place. We’re blessed that we are so fond of each other that we come back, whether it’s three or five years, every time the clarion calls for another Monroe Reunion. Let’s consider Earl’s plea to focus less on the day trips (guilty as charged) and more on spending time as community, cooking and eating, reminiscing or getting to know one another, enjoying memories of the past, but also focusing on one another’s present and future. Monroe Reunion 2013 is just around the corner. Work on your GORP recipe. We’re going camping.

Earl looked for a specific subset of people to join him on this enterprise. He didn’t pick Barbara and me because he likes us. He picked us because we’re unemployed (me during the summer and Mom until the dividends stop paying). So, you could say that we are in a special position to take this sort of trip where others are limited to vacations of limited duration. Whatever your case, if you’re ever offered the opportunity to criss-cross the country with family, my advice is to not think twice. Just go. I never imagined myself being able to have a three-hour conversation with my grandfather that ranged from the stock market to differential erosion, but by God, it happened, and it kept me up way past my bedtime! And it was great!

In Earl’s cover letter to us, he also mentioned the “meek and manicured West.” I must respectfully disagree with my grandfather on this point. The west that I’ve come to know both on this trip as well as while teaching the Field Geology course, is anything but meek. In fact many parts of it are coiled in suspended animation. We put up sign posts and build catwalks and fences in the name of safety and stewardship. But it is not at all difficult to imagine this land as raw and undressed and primordially violent as it once was, and no doubt will eventually be again. After all, as our friend on the DVDs Dr. James Renton is fond of saying, “in geologic time, time is irrelevant.” So, though it may be a bit manicured, to me it’s still the “bold and bountiful” west, the “pure and powerful” west, the “noble and natural” west.

So, there it is. The Monroetorhome 2008 blog has come to an end. The next reunion will be on the East Coast, so it is doubtful that I will be saddling up for another cross country motorhome trip for the next one, that is unless I feel like taking the long way to NC, or VA, or wherever it takes us. Oh, wait. Mom and I are planning the next one. Well, I guess I’d better wrap this up and call Mom. Thanks for tuning in, all three of you! It was a pleasure recounting our travels, and thank you for allowing me my indulgences, as faulty and inaccurate as many of them may be. Maybe for the 2013 Monroe Reunion we can set up a wiki, that is, a blog in which all participants post (instead of being relegated to the “Comments” section). We’ll see. We’ve got five years to come up with ideas.

Another talent show anyone?

And the winner is...

Congratulations to the Cerar's on their Gold and Silver medal finish in this, the first and final competition of the Monroetorhome 2008 Blog Inane Trivia Contest. Since there was no Bronze medal finisher, I declare myself the 2nd runner-up, and therefore keep the highly valued third place prize, the blazed orange Parking Violation warning sticker that the National Park Service places on all illegally parked vehicles at scenic overlooks. Yes, the Monroetorhomers were virtual outlaws, terrorizing Bryce Canyon National Park visitors by parking in parking spaces reserved for TOURIST BUSES. Have they no sense of decency??

However, after 15 rounds of arduous testing, the 1st runner-up, having answered 7 of the 15 questions correctly, is Jean Cerar. [applause]

And the winner of the Monroetorhome 2008 trivia contest, scoring 9 of 15 possible points, Charlie Cerar!!! [ovations and laurels descend toward the rostrum]

Jean and Charlie will receive prizes for their efforts just as soon as the Prize Selection Committee can convene to determine what those prizes are, just as soon as he finishes grading this set of quizzes sitting next to him.

Now, given my obtuse testing format, it'll probably be easier for all if I adopt Jean and Charlie's scoring method to show the correct answers.

Before I divulge the answers, might I mention how impressed I was that both respondents answered correctly that Barbara (and not Ted) is the one drinking "Moose Drool" beer during cocktail hour. This goes to show you how well they know their cousin Barbara as the bourgeois, ignoble, beer-swilling delinquent that we all know her to be. Either that or they just think that I'm an east-coast, gin and tonic, private school, fancy pants liberal.

Either way, they couldn't be more right.

The correct answers are as follows:

#1 The morning begins
B,E,T

#2 Start the morning
E,T,B

#3 Indulge in
T,B,E

#4 Following breakfast
E,B,T

#5 Before departing
B & T, E

#6 At the wheel
E,B,T

#7 Always with a sense of
T,E,B

#8 As a passenger
B,T,E

#9 I take
B,T,E

#10 I wear
T,B,E

#11 I enjoy
B,T,E

#12 Following lunch
T,B,E

#13 I sit down and enjoy my
E,T,B

#14 During which I
T,B,E

#15 As the final geology lecture ends I
E,B,T

I will give you a day or two to soak in the correct answers. I will return in a few days with some final thoughts, and officially conclude the blog.

Last chance for FREE STUFF!!

Well, things have settled down enough for me to at least upload the remaining “best of” pics, and to share with you this last bit of “life in the motorhome with an Old Fogey, a Yahoo, and a Whipper Snapper.” But there’s a catch…

Now’s your chance to show how much you know about your relatives, the Monroetorhomers. You are about to read an account of a typical day on the Roaming Ranchette. You will find that the narrative is periodically interrupted by three choices in parentheses. One applies to Earl, the other to Barbara, the other to Ted. In some cases, one answer will apply to multiple people, in which case, only two choices exist. If you guess the most, you win the prize. Read the first comment for instructions on how to answer. Then, to submit your answers, post a comment. Submit answers in the following fashion:

Where E=Earl, B=Barbara, T=Ted, designate initial in the order in which it appears in the parentheses, for example number 1 might be (E, B, T) while number two might be (T, E, B). If there are only two answers, indicate a shared answer with an ampersand (&). For example, since #5 only has two answers, you might indicate (E & B, T).

Game on.

The morning begins (at the crack of dawn / whenever I feel like it / when everyone else starts making noise). I start the morning with (calisthenics / a 2-3 mile run / a 15 minute walk) followed by a light breakfast. Typically I indulge in (yogurt and cereal / oatmeal / raisin bread) which tides me over until lunch. Following breakfast I (spy on neighboring campers through my binoculars / read literature on the sites of the day / recharge electronics) until it is time to shove off. Before departing I (unhook water, electric, and sewer / retract the leveling jacks).

Once on the road, we take turns driving. For my part, when I’m at the wheel I drive (without glasses / with glasses / with sunglasses) and always with a sense of (confidence / purpose / nervous caution). As a passenger I typically (look out the window with awe / follow the map wondering, “Where does that river lead to” / read road signs aloud). When we stop at a particular site of interest, I take (pictures / video / my time), enjoying the scenery. During most of the day, I wear (flip flops / sneakers / walking shoes), except on challenging terrain.

We break for lunch at some time around noon, and stop at a rest area, park or other such spot. I enjoy (a salad / a sandwich with cold cuts / 1 cup cottage cheese and one half banana). Following lunch I (wash dishes / dry dishes / watch while cracking jokes about having hired help) and continue to enjoy the scenery for a short while. At some point in the afternoon, after four to six hours of driving, we arrive at our destination. After hooking up the motorhome, cocktail hour begins! I sit down and enjoy my (martini / gin and tonic / “Moose Drool” beer) and we all chat about the day’s events, scenery, or family history. Some nights we decide to watch another episode of the geology lectures, during which I (nod in and out / fall fast asleep / remain awake and alert).

Finally, as the final geology lecture ends I (fall into my ready-made queen size bed / convert the sofa to my full size bed / convert the dinette to my full size bed) and drift away to sleep. In the morning we repeat the process all over again.

Due to my prolonged silence, many may have assumed that I've abandoned the blog. So, we will give several days for you to post your response. I'll be back next weekend to give the answers, announce the winners, and give my final thoughts on the Monroetorhome trip, the family reunion, and the American West.

Ehem...check, check...

So, I thought that once I got back to civilization, I would be able to resume with business as usual. However, it turns out that after a month's absence, our internet connection has gone dormant. It requires speaking with a representative at AT&T, so I guess I'll see you guys at the next reunion.

Truth be told, I've come to the end of my voyage. I flew home on Friday and Julie and I spent a relaxing weekend doing as little as possible. However, I do want to put a Coda on the Monroetorhome blog. School started up today; completing the entries, of which I imagine three remain, may take a few days. So, check in from time to time.

M.I.A.

It’s been some time since we’ve been heard from. I suppose one goes to southern Utah or northern Arizona in order to not be found, so why bother with things like WiFi and cell phone. I can dig that. So, as the title indicates, we have been M.I.A. for some days. That is, Motorhoming In Arizona.

Some thoughts from the last few days:

Take an overripe tomato out of your fridge. Step on it. Set it on fire. Once the heat has sucked all the moisture out of the crispy pulp and flake of the tomato, stomp on it again. Congratulations. You’ve just recreated a scale model of southern Utah.

We’ve had quite a time making our way around the Grand Staircase/Escalante National Monument. It took us about two days and 50,000 feet of vertical displacement, but we made it to Mexican Hat, UT near the border with Arizona. On the 4^th we left Bryce Canyon bound for Torrey, near the northern end of the Escalante. The ups and downs of this terrain, a jumble of sandstones and shales with the occasional volcanic remnant, rival the eastern Washington whatever-the-hell-that-was in terms of the topography. (Actually, you would do yourself a service by reading Jean’s comment from several days ago. She corrects my false assumption about how the landscape was formed. She even footnotes her stuff, whereas I just make mine up. Thanks for the info, Jean.) We enjoyed stunning scenery of a new breed of sandstone. Wait, wait. Don’t “X” out yet, this geology lecture will be S-H-O-R-T.

The sandstones we traveled through in these areas showed evidence of cross-bedding, a curious trait you will find if you were to cut a vertical slice out of a sand dune on the beach. Indicative of shifting winds and their effects on sand deposits, cross-bedding looks similar to a series of random brush strokes, perhaps that faux paint effect you tried out in your guest bathroom. Yes, we were driving through miles upon miles of petrified sand dunes, some of which were (when they were still sand rather than sandstone) up to 3000 ft tall. In comparison, the tallest sand dunes of the day are between 150 and 300 ft tall, some character said on one of the movies or tour buses, or something or other. Not sure if it’s true. Throughout the drive I pushed back the urge to sing “Kokomo” by the Beach Boys. It would have been embarrassingly anachronistic. After all, those guys are way older than these sand dunes.

End of geo-spat. See, that wasn’t too painful, was it?

So, we twisted and turned and became well-acquainted with our two lower gears until we arrived at the town of Torrey. We found a delightful oasis in which to park the RV, and the next morning had our brakes checked because we heard a curious sound toward the end of the day of driving. The RV park had a service center attached to it, so a gentleman by the name of “Biggie” checked out our brakes, and gave us a clean bill of health. Yes, I said that his name was “Biggie.” It’s not a typo.

On to Capitol Reef NP, where Barbara and I asked a ranger a series of questions (freshly confident from our recent geology lessons on DVD). By our questions, she realized we had no idea what we were talking about, and she sort of gave up on us. She walked us toward the raised relief model, then ran off to help someone else. We just don’t get it. The park is here mainly because of a formation called the Waterpocket Fold, a 100 mile “wrinkle” in the Earth’s crust. We tried to get our heads around it, but we couldn’t, and the questions we were asking didn’t seem to make much sense to the lady. So we greedily stamped our National Parks Service passports and ran away, counting coup on yet another national park.

The next few hours of driving were decent and swift, but about 30 miles south of Hanksville, UT on US-95, we began to hear scraping again. But it wasn’t our brakes. It was our jaws dragging along the ground as we looked out at an indescribable combination of landscapes that left us all agog. First more red sandstone cliffs, but more a vermillion color than before-some sections reminiscent of Zion, others of Arches. This terrain led us down to Lake Powell and the Colorado River, and upon climbing out of the canyon, we entered into another formation of petrified sand dunes called White Canyon. More cross-bedded sandstones, these rock had been effectively scoured by what we assume to be the White River, and in the process created canyons, gulleys, ravines, and washes that tickle the imagination (what you’re imagining, of course is you intrepidly exploring these things for days and days…with a helicopter resupply crew following your every move so you don’t die of heat exhaustion, dehydration, desert mania, scorpion stings, rattlesnake bites, javelina attacks, or simply, starvation).

So, we plodded through the Colorado River Valley and all of its subsequent canyons, and some hours later came to a sign: “CAUTION! 10% Grade, Gravel with Switchbacks.” We had come upon some monstrosity called the “Moki Dugway.” I assume that this road, if I can call it that, was originally constructed, if I can call it that, for horses. However, between then and the invention of the combustion engine, no one thought to update it for vehicle traffic. I exaggerate, it was plenty wide for our coach to make the switchback turns, but not wide enough for two-way traffic. Fortunately, there was little two-way traffic at this time in the Utah desert. Surprise, surprise. I happened to be on shift for this leg of the journey, so I got to wiggle the Ranchette down the road while Earl and Barbara informed me when it was safe to traverse the next switchback. After completing the climb down some 1000 feet of sheer, vertical cliff, Barbara exhaled, and we continued on to Mexican Hat, UT, so named because of the hoodoo bearing the appearance of a sombrero that is located nearby. Before we arrived in town for the evening, however, we made a stop to Goosenecks State Park. Earl has fond memories of flying over these formations in his Prescott days, and wanted to see them from the ground. The San Juan River once meandered through this countryside much like the Mississippi does in her own valley back East. When the Colorado Plateau uplifted, the San Juan began digging toward sea level, as rivers do, and so the river is now “entrenched” in its same course from 60 million some years ago. Logically, this kind of feature is called an “entrenched meander.”

While in Mexican Hat (population 40 or 42, they’re not sure) we indulged in three geology lectures and talked for about an hour about the mountain ridge that stood outside our west-facing window. It’s a stunning, vexing piece of rock that we’re all dying to find out about. (Christmas gift idea!!: Roadside Geology of Utah).

The next day we packed up and headed for Arizona, whose only destination on the itinerary is Canyon de Chelly in Chinle, AZ. Unlike several of the previous days, the drive itself was only about two hours. So, we explored the north and south rims of the canyon, and of course the Visitor Center to stamp our passports, then headed next door for the National Park Service’s campsite. The campsite itself was a charming jumble of boulders (delineating sites and roads) with huge cottonwood trees providing shade to almost every site. As dusk fell, wild dogs began to populate the campground. The monument and this campground, like anything within 50-100 miles, is on the Navajo Reservation. The Navajo Nation does not allow the penning of animals, so cows and sheep wander along roadways downtown, and in the case of this campground, dogs come to lay in the sun and chase one another through the tall grasses. After taking a walk, I heard barking and howling, followed by a higher pitched bark coming from our motorhome. Upon returning to the RV, it was confirmed that Earl was “communicating with nature” from the dinette table. It made for interesting after-dinner conversation. Then the intermittent rains came, and the campground became dreamlike. It’s great when your day ends on a note like that.

That brings us to today, Thursday, July 7. I’m exhausted, so I’ll leave that for tomorrow.

You may be wondering where all the recent pictures are. The last few internet connections were bunk. I barely got the blog posted. So, when I get home (3:00 tomorrow afternoon), I’ll re-introduce my trusty little laptop to a DSL connection.

Zion, Cedar, and Bryce--oh my!

Congratulations to Doug Sadtler (no relation) for winning the trivia question from a few days ago. The highest elevation that the Monroetorhome has achieved was driving around the rim of Crater Lake NP. Doug’s first answer (read his comment attached to the 8/1 post) was the Basin and Range. However, he did posit a second guess, and that guess is correct. And since he’s the only one to have answered the question correctly, he wins the day’s prize! A keychain from Cedar Breaks National Monument. This 1 ½ inch “Impact” keychain features a panoramic picture of the Cedar Breaks topography, as well as a compass and thermometer, perfect since Doug is always complaining about the temperature and can never find his keys!! (I’ll let you all think about that last one for a minute.) Congrats to Doug and fie on all of you who didn’t even bother to answer a multiple choice question! Jean, I don’t think they took your bullying seriously.

I’m sure if we took a poll to see which is the “crown jewel” in the National Park Service , I’m sure that many people would say Yellowstone--and for good reason. It is by far among the most varied, scenic, and iconic. For my money, I would have said Arches, but out of mere sentimentality. That is, until I hopped on the free shuttle bound for the Temple of Sinawava and The Narrows in Zion National Park. Before I go into our events for the day, let me explain Zion.

Zion is a canyon composed entirely of sedimentary rock carved almost exclusively by the Virgin River, the one I frolicked in two days ago. There are two routes entering the park, the South Entrance and the North Entrance. It is possible to drive these routes, however, both are patrolled by a fleet of propane-fueled shuttle buses which stop at every stop, and encourage passengers to embark and disembark at their whimsy.

What makes Zion singularly superior to all other parks (it has herewith been so determined, sorry Yellowstone fans) is the combination of the scenery, the variety of activities, and above all, the community atmosphere brought about by the use of the shuttle system. A journey to Zion National Park is a SHARED experience. There is very much a sense that we are all in this together. You run into the same groups over and over again, whether it’s two miles into The Narrows, or in the line for soft serve at Zion Lodge. Part of the experience you share externally (hike together, talk with one another), and part of it is shared internally (the mutual acknowledgement that you want this to be a personal experience, wish to hike/eat/read/gawk in silence). By the time I left, I wished I could see the German couple, the two Italian couples, the veteran in a wheelchair, and the four teachers one last time so I could say “Goodbye” and “Enjoy the rest of you trip.” Finally, the most charming element to Zion is the large lawn (with the most immense and beautiful cottonwood tree right in the center) outside Zion Lodge. There people ate, relaxed, threw Frisbees and baseballs. Whether this was the intended effect, when you step off the bus from your satisfactorily exhausting hike, you feel like you have reached “home base,” even if you aren’t staying there. This atmosphere of community, rather than competitive advantage, makes Zion, in my experience, unique among all other parks.

Now, the rocks. While on the shuttle, you are treated to a recorded narration by a park naturalist. It is very well done and very well synched to each viewpoint, drop-off, and turn in the road. From this narration, I learned that Zion represents the “mid-point” in the geologic lifespan of what is known as the “Grand Staircase of the Colorado Plateau.” During the last several hundreds of millions of years, a shallow sea, then a desert covered the western US from Wyoming to California. At some point, the sediment laid down during that time was covered by water, compacted, physically and chemically bonded to form various sedimentary rocks (sandstone, shale, limestone, conglomerate, mainly). Then one day about 70 million years ago, a large chunk of this former desert began to uplift. I don’t know what caused it, but since the Rocky Mountains are 75 million years old, I have to suspect that the two events are related. Anyway, a large portion of the western US (which looked nothing like it does now) began to uplift slowly. So slowly, in fact, that one river was able to keep pace with the uplift, and throughout millions of years continue its path to the sea while carving into the uplifting rock, fulfilling its course from the northeast corner of this uplift, from present day Rocky Mountain National Park, all the way through the southwestern edge of the plateau to the Sea of Cortez in Mexico. Why the “Colorado Plateau,” you ask? After all, most of the plateau is in Utah. The river that cuts through this plateau from start to finish was named by the Spaniards for the bright red rocks they encountered in her canyons. They named it the “Red River” or “Río Colorado.”

So, back to the narration. The “Grand Staircase” is just what it sounds like: a series of cliffs whose lowest “step” is the Grand Canyon, middle “step” is Zion Canyon, and upper “step” is Bryce Canyon. In fact, if you’ve been to the Grand Canyon, you may have heard that the Kaibab Limestone formation serves as the rimrock for the canyon. The dry conditions in the desert make it difficult for the limestone to erode, so it holds the whole thing in place. It turns out that the Kaibab Limestone is the bottom-most formation in Zion NP. The tippy-top layer in Zion is the Navajo Sandstone. Guess what serves as the floor of Bryce Canyon? You got it—Navajo Sandstone. So, the highest formation in GCNP is the lowest In ZNP. The highest formation in ZNP is the lowest in BCNP. Part of this gradation is probably due to the uplift of the the plateau (and several secondary plateaus on top of the main one. But added to this drama are several normal faults that cause additional displacement of once-contiguous rock formations.

My vague recollection from my trip to GCNP in 2002 is that 1 billion of the earth’s geologic history is exposed in the Grand Canyon. If you add the strata found in Zion and Bryce, you’re probably talking about 1.25 or 1.5 billion more years added to the rock record. And all of it uplifted, tilted, faulted and now slowly eroding, creating formations that even the mind cannot conjure.

Since the Zion shuttle encourages independent travel, the Monroetorhomers decided to strike out independently. Mom took the Riverside hike, then walked out on the rocks at the beginning of The Narrows. Then she cased out Zion Lodge (she’s compiling an exhaustive survey entitled, “Comfort of and View from Leather Chairs in National Park Lodge Great Rooms”, due to be published when she can sit no longer). Following her stint of analytical sitting, she hiked to the Lower Emerald Pool. On her way down the canyon she stopped at the Natural History museum and took in the movie and a ranger talk. As she was about to board the bus for home, her obnoxious son jumped out of a bus fresh from a hike, and annoyed her into attending another ranger talk (ask us about the horsehair worm). After the talk, she went back to the RV.

Earl took his time on the shuttle ride, taking the round trip, then headed back to the RV in time for lunch, and sank into one of the captain’s chairs to engage in what has become one of our most favorite guilty pleasures—people watching. His observations about RV campground behavior are insightful. I encourage you to pry details out of him.

I headed out early for a hike in The Narrows, which is a canyon about 100 feet wide at its mouth. The exercise involves walking upstream in water that can be anywhere from a few inches deep to shoulder deep. The 16-mile canyon requires a backcountry permit, and a death wish. So I wandered upstream until the canyon reached its minimum width, about 20 feet. After 2 miles and 2.5 hours I decided enough was enough, and covering the return distance in only an hour. At the mouth of the Narrows, under the curious and watchful eye of a bunch of Germans, I took a dozen or so pictures of my shoes in celebration (see slideshow).

I headed for the museum where my mother ran over to me, embarrassing me in front of all these people, and made me attend a ranger talk and watch a movie. Following the movie I hiked the Emerald Pools, returning Zion Lodge for a hot dog (pic o’ the day?) and an ice cream cone. While lying in the grass under the cottonwood tree, I decided to abandon ambitions of my third intended hike (Watchman trail, affording views of the canyon, and Springdale below). I returned to the Visitor Center, purchased a large can of Budweiser (doing it for the family, Earl owns Anheuser stock). Although late to cocktail hour, arriving around 7:30, I was not truant.

Today we went park hopping. Leaving Zion, we descended the Colorado Plateau, only to climb it again in the northern section of the park called Kolob Canyons. A nice driving tour offering more great examples of erosional retreat was the highlight, although several hikes are possible. After Kolob, we got off the plateau, headed north and back up the plateau to Cedar Breaks National Monument. Here we achieved our all-time altitude record: 10,350 feet. The folks at Ford deserve props; this little V8 engine has weathered lots of “ups and downs,” literally. Cedar Breaks is an amphitheater of eroded sedimentary rock, famous for hoodoos and spires, much the same stuff that we will see tomorrow at Bryce.

We are now in Bryce Canyon, UT at Ruby’s Inn, a ticky-tacky complex of campgrounds, hotels, ersatz villages and such. Tomorrow we’ll case out Bryce Canyon NP, and make our way over the north side of the Grand Staircase, touching down in Escalante or Torrey, UT, on our way to Mexican Hat and eventually Chinle, AZ.