Shake-down cruise

As we are finding our way back to Arizona, we are satisfied that our shake-down cruise for the Pup is a success.  Now we are painfully aware of how small the teensy tiny interior of a 16-foot trailer is.  No doubt it’s a do-able proposition with some mind-set adjustments and a more minimalist lifestyle.

The trailer’s use will benefit from the addition of shelving and bins to assist in everything (lots less of everything than was in the 32-footer) having its place and remaining there, thereby insuring that I can travel in a chaos-free environment.  We’ll see how that translates into practice when Sara joins us in Oregon and we become three in there . . .

Escalante & Harriet . . . 

Quite a few years have flown by since we have visited our friend Harriet in her Escalante digs, so this was the perfect opportunity to say “Hey!”  While there we dined out for superb barbecue ribs and next evening were entertained at her home.  Since our last stop there, Harriet has transformed her gallery on her home property into an inviting experience.  What a pleasure to peruse her artwork and eclectic offerings of everything from Zapotec coasters to rocks and fossils, from antiques to locally made crafts, and so much more!  

A stop at Serenidad Gallery is a must in Escalante; be sure to tell her we sent you.

The self-proclaimed star of the show at Serenidad was Harriet's Maine coon cat, Nicki.

Looking around . . .

One day only for checking out that region: absurd - the vastness and variety of those amazing landscapes could only be glimpsed adequately if explored over several lifetimes, and our stay of two nights obviously would not fit the bill.  One stop was a must, though; we enjoyed Harriet’s one-woman summer-long watercolor exhibit at the Anasazi State Park museum - a delight of artfully preserving native dwellings and ceramics. 

When the señor had been checking out an old USGS map, a favored pastime, he noticed a cliff dwelling that he had a yen to investigate.  It is not marked on the new maps: vulnerable ruins are deleted from modern maps to prevent vandalism, or perhaps I should say "reduce" instead.  Of late, I have been horrified to see so much graffiti on natural and prehistoric sites, seemingly an increasing and disturbing trend.

It was not a long hike to where we expected to find the ruin, but did entail quite a bit of scrambling through brush and managing our way through a jumbled eroded dry creek bed.  In the end, it would have been the easiest thing to have gone past the ruin, or what there is left of it if you didn't know where and what.

The prehistoric site appears to have been relatively extensive, but it is now smashed to smithereens beneath gigantic slabs of sandstone that have fallen from the roof of its once-protective alcove.  One partial wall is visible on the left, and another smaller section stands still with several roof support limbs exposed.  Other than those remnants, it is obliterated.  If we had not been searching for it, we would likely have never noticed its existence as we struggled to find a way through the canyon.

 

Speaking of canyons, Harriet had told us about a picturesque very short slot, scarcely deserving of the canyon designation, and we were happy she had.  It’s another of those sights that does not jump out at the psserby.

A short walk takes you clear to the back of the cleft pretty quickly, while views of the sky are mostly obscured by the high undulations of rock smoothed by Nature’s hand and reaching in turns across overhead.  Going in . . . and coming out were equally stunning views.

 

 

 

 

The slot was in Long Canyon, which, as you might suspect, is long . . . winding, steep and deep and oh so breathtakingly beautiful.  We marveled at each twist and turn as one stunning scene after another came into view.

 

More wandering around for our "sampler", we also enjoyed time at Calf Creek, which was running clear . . .

. . . and at the Escalante River, which was muddy with storm runoff and still higher than normal.

 

 

A short off-trail scramble got us up high enough to see across miles upon miles of multi-colored rock carved into fantasmagorical shapes enough to stagger the mind with the immensity of it all.  The up-close was fun for climbing and scrabbling over and around while the distant scenes took on the aspect of a wildly imaginative fantasy.

 

    

 Oh, to have the tenacity of this tree . . .

 

Waterholes . . .

 

We broke up our day-long drive home with a lunch stop at Cameron Trading Post on the Navajo Reservation where we were again reminded of the covid-19 pandemic.  The folks there were 2020 strict, requiring double-thickness masks and social distancing.  As always, we were impressed with the beautifully displayed Navajo artwork.

After we had dropped down past the mammoth Echo Cliffs and passed the Vermillion Cliffs, we went by the entrance to Waterholes Canyon.  With it came flooding memories of 2002, when Darren & I had driven to Lee’s Ferry together to participate in his grandfather’s memorial.  Coming home, we stopped to explore that slot canyon, and had a wonderfully good time, managing to get a lone photo of ourselves by convincing the camera to cling precariously to a nearly vertical smooth rock wall.