SINCE MARY and Lou "won" the coin toss over who gets to use the only alarm clock, which we borrowed from the motel office last night, Lou is rewarded by having to wake us up this morning. He has to do this by knocking on our door, because there aren't any phones in the rooms either. But the beds were comfortable and the rooms are clean. After packing up the cars, we walk over to the motel office to check out and to congratulate the family on the new baby.

Still no baby.
                          Oh well…

Linda buys a Mexican blanket that she thinks will go well in our soon - to - be - remodeled - in - Southwestern - theme recreation room. The colors are perfect and, at twenty-four dollars, it's not likely she'll find a better deal, even at the Navajo stands we'll be encountering later on (that turns out to be a good guess - she never finds another one she likes better, even at higher prices). I buy a souvenir Bryce Canyon cap, and of course, postcards.

We leave Hatch at the same time, both cars driving south, back along U.S. 89, occasionally gesturing wildly and pointing out to each other various houses and scenes we'd talked about when we met up yesterday. At Mount Carmel Junction we stop for breakfast at the Thunderbird Restaurant. We didn't see any thunderbirds, but there are several hummingbird feeders hung along the outside of this very Southwestern-styled building, and one is positioned just outside the window where we are seated. Linda enjoys watching more hummingbirds than she has ever seen before as they flutter around the feeder, stopping in mid-air.

From here, U.S. 89 cuts across the extreme southern edge of Utah, passing through vast deserts and enormous, flat-topped walls of mountains on its way toward the even vaster deserts of Arizona. We expected the drive to Glen Canyon to take about 2 ½ hours, but we are delayed nearly a half hour longer by road construction just beyond Kanab. Three hours of never-changing open scenery can be a long time, and we were not prepared for what lay ahead of us as we come into the Lake Powell region. As we drive through a community known as Big Water, Linda and I notice that a jagged canyon in the wall of mountains to the left of us appears to cut right through the town. We can see no water anywhere, but there are boat rental and boat storage lots all over the place. After awhile it becomes apparent that there must be a river in the canyon, which isn't visible to us from the highway, and the river must be big enough to make this the major recreation area it appears to be. As we crest yet another low ridge, we see way off on the horizon what looks like a large body of blue water, but it doesn't appear to be connected in any way to the canyon river where we are. A couple of ridges later, that changes, as we get our first glimpse of Lake Powell, the reservoir formed by Glen Canyon Dam. The canyon we've been following turns out to be one of several that empty into the lake, and as we get closer, the view abruptly changes from beige-on-beige to an absolutely other-worldly scene of jagged gray stone and incredibly blue water. We come upon an unpaved road that leads about half a mile up a hill to a scenic overlook, where we take some pictures to try and capture the breathtaking panorama of Lake Powell, and then return to the highway to continue on.

Lake Powell looks like a sea on an alien planet

We drive for miles, with the surroundings becoming more intense every minute, and by the time we actually arrive at Glen Canyon Dam the rocks and mountains were every bit as impressive as they had been around Hoover Dam. Here we cross over the Colorado River on the famous Glen Canyon Bridge, some 700 feet above the canyon floor, and enter Arizona (for the second time, if you count the thirty-five miles we drove through yesterday on our way to Utah). If there is any phrase I can think of to describe the American Southwest, it would be "vast sameness and abrupt changes". Crossing into Arizona illustrates this perfectly. The moment we arrive on the other side of the bridge we find ourselves driving through enormous mountains of bright red rocks. But these are much different than we had seen before; they're smooth-surfaced and rounded, and the red is a different shade - much brighter and so intense that they look as if they'd been painted that color.

Dramatic scenic differences can be seen in these two views.
The photo on the left shows the Utah side of the Lake Powell region.
The picture on the right shows a much smoother, much redder area near Page, Arizona, just across the river.

AS WE WIND downhill through the mountains and canyons we encounter the first of what will be several runaway truck ramps. These are strips of soft gravel that run off the roadway at the base of long downhill grades, so that trucks whose brakes are failing can plow into them and come to a stop. Here we also encounter what I now think might have been the most impressive view of our entire vacation trip. As the highway crests the Echo Cliffs and descends into Marble Canyon, the sweeping panorama overwhelms your senses in its size and scope. No photograph could possibly do it justice, and we don't even try stopping to take any there, but I will always remember that scene.

Navajo livestock is usually housed in community pens. Much of their traditional work also centers around this area.

Marble Canyon runs between the massive Echo Cliffs on the east and the Kaibab plateau on the west until the two finally almost meet each other at the appropriately named town of Gap. This is Navajo country, and all along the highway we can see the homes of the native Americans who live here. Navajos prefer an extended family living arrangement, so the homes are usually made up of several houses arranged in a circle with community facilities, such as the octagonal stable buildings, in the center. Every such compound appears to house a few horses. The Navajo people also seem to prefer their dwellings to blend into the natural scenery as much as possible, so the more weathered their home looks the more pleasing it is to them. Colors (always faded, never fresh-looking or shiny) tend to be browns, golds, pale yellows and greens, and teal. Later on the trip, in and around Oak Creek Canyon and Sedona where there are city ordinances to enforce a "southwestern"-looking  architecture, we notice that even the newest and most elaborate homes and businesses try to emulate these same colors (although they tend to be less weathered and faded).

Here also are roadside stands where pottery, blankets, jewelry and other items are sold. Most of these appear to be abandoned, but there are still many with several active and colorful stalls. We stop at one and spent some time looking at all the wares. There are some really beautiful pieces of pottery and artwork available here, not just souvenir types, but true museum-quality. The prices of these are certainly not souvenir prices, either, but they are much less expensive than similar (or less fine) work sells for elsewhere. I look at a black, deep-relief Navajo pottery bowl selling for $75.00 and will certainly remember it when I later see similar bowls selling for over $200. We drive through a portion of the Painted Desert, the subtle colors of which Linda appreciates more than I do, on our way to Cameron, which is where we leave U.S. 89 and proceed toward the Grand Canyon on Arizona state highway 64. Soon afterward, Linda gets her first taste of how impressive a canyon can be as we pass the Little Colorado River Gorge. Although nowhere near the scope of Grand Canyon, the views here are spectacular and close enough to the road to make Linda nervous.

Navajo sandpaintings such as this one are sold at stands along the highway.

AS WE BEGIN Climbing the Kaibab plateau, the scenery again changes dramatically, going from desert floor to pine forests in less than an hour. We enter Grand Canyon National Park and at the Desert View Watchtower we get our first awesome view of one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World. Linda's very impressed. The sheer massiveness is overwhelming. The colors are also much different than she had expected, darker reds and purples - she hadn't anticipated the purples. I had wanted to stop here for awhile and maybe climb the Watchtower, but Linda feels that Mary and Lou would have driven straight to our meeting place (the Visitor's Center, of course) and that we should do that as well. Besides, we intend to take a motorcoach tour and will surely be returning to this viewpoint (and several others we don't stop at) later. Later we find that there are no motorcoach tours of the east rim drive available (they were all- and half-day tours which boarded before noon), so we never get a second chance to see those locations. Also, Mary, Lou, and Lizzy did stop here and climbed the Watchtower, and had we stayed we would have run into them.

Although there are also no motorcoach tours of the west rim, none are needed because there is a free shuttlebus that services the viewpoints along that side. In fact, with private cars prohibited, the shuttlebus (which is on about a fifteen minute schedule) is the only way, other than hiking, to get to them. We ride the shuttlebus to some and hike to others, taking opportunities to walk out onto promontories jutting out high over the canon cliffs. Even Linda, looking straight ahead and heroically trying to overcome her fear that we'd all tumble to our deaths, manages to get nearer the edge of the abyss than she ever thought she could. At one point, the paved trail ends abruptly at the ruins of an old uranium mine, and we hike about a half mile of dirt trails into the woods to get around it. The last viewpoint of the west rim trail is Hermit's Rest, and there are facilities here, including a gift shop well-stocked with real artwork as well as ordinary souvenirs. It is here that we find the very shirt that Linda Cross had hoped we could bring her. We buy it for her as a gift for taking care of our cats.

Grand Canyon National Park is yet another one of those places where one could easily spend an entire vacation all by itself. Lou would have liked to hike the entire rim trail, and (with the possible exception of Linda - but who knows, she seems to try everything else on this trip) the two-day burro ride into the canyon and back would be attractive to me. But by this time, everyone but Lou has had enough Grand Canyon for a single day.

Far below the canyon rim, the Colorado River continues its work of slowly (but unceasingly) carving the world's greatest gully.

Linda celebrates overcoming her terror of heights (by not looking down). By the time she has reached the edge of the lookout with Mary, she may not be ready to conquer Everest, but she no longer walks with any hesitation.

Rain is beginning to fall lightly as we board the shuttlebus to head back to Grand Canyon Village and dinner. There are thunderstorms in the area (you can see them miles away and hear the thunder) and we don't want to get caught in one. Signs all over the rim trail warn that lightning strikes are common along the rim. We are surprised that there aren't crowds at the Bright Angel Restaurant where we stop for dinner at around 5:00, until we realize that it's really only 4:00 (Arizona doesn't have daylight savings time, so it's an hour behind Utah, even though both are in the Mountain time zone). By the time dinner is finished, the rain has increased dramatically. We make a run for the shuttlebus stop to take us back to our cars at the Visitor's Center.

From Grand Canyon National Park to Williams, where we will be spending the night, is a little over an hour drive. We descend from the thick pines of Kaibab forest into a valley of sparser pines and brush. The rain, which is moving north anyway, peters out quickly, but it is still nearly dark by the time we get to the Ho-Jo Inn at Williams. Here, we are delighted to discover, there is a swimming pool and hot spa that remains open until 10:00. The Waters family have arrived, again only a few minutes ahead of us, and we all head straight for the pool before turning in for the night.

It's been a very long day, and (especially with yet another time zone change) tomorrow promises to be even longer…

We drove 334 miles today.

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Story and original photography copyright ©1996-1997 by John Lipman. All rights reserved.
Descriptions, observations, and characterizations expressed are solely those of the author.
Background music is copyright ©1996 by Jim Lynch. All rights reserved.

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