June 13, 2007 TELLURIDE DETOUR

[CLICK ON PICS TO ENLARGE ] Bye to the misty heights and depths of BCOTG, and off to Mesa Verde, or so we thought. As we came down from the campground, we descend a long way along a road with absolutely glorious views of the great valley below and the snow-DRENCHED San Juan Mountains to the south. It looks like every tourist-promotion photo you've ever seen of Colorado. Some lucky devil has a cabin on the downslope from our road, with this incredible vista every day (when it's clear, of course). Once down, we make our way through Montrose and head south. There are two parallel routes that will get us to our destination of Mesa Verde: a more straight shot down 560, ending in Durango, or a slightly longer route using 62 and 145 to Cortez. MV lies between the two cities. Paul's Colorado guidebook noted that Telluride featured Bridal Veil Falls, the tallest in the state, so we decided to go that route. It turned out to be a good choice. As we climbed (once again) up towards Telluride the scenery became more lush and alpiney. Colorado really is beautiful in a totally different sense from Utah. The access spur road to Telluride (which is a dead-end box canyon) is two lanes, with construction, so the speed limit was 25. As we entered the city limits (which are pretty far out) the limit dropped to 15 (!) and it appeared they mean it. As we idled our way into the town proper, the scent of money came wafting through the pines. Supposedly, AH-nold and Oprah both have homes here. It takes that kind of money to buy in, these days, according to the realty windows we looked at. That carping aside, this town is a real jewel. There's one main street, that lines up arrow-straight with a view of the waterfall and mountains straight ahead. We kept on motoring through the town and came out on the other side where the road keeps going to the old mineworks at the base of the mountains. We positioned Albatross so we had a great view out the rear windows and had lunch. We were so taken by the beauty of the place, that we decided to see if we could crash the tiny city campground that was on this end of the main drag. It's over a small bridge and in amongst the aspens. The sign said they were full, but as it was 11:00 we figured we'd see if anyone had left. Sure enough, one guy was packing up and said he'd be out shortly, so we hightailed it back to the office and snagged his space for the night (the only one available, as it turned out) at the princely rate of $8.00(!), thanks to our having passed the local "senior" cutoff of 59. It's good to be old. Our site was level, and had a small brook bubbling away beside us and again had a great snow-capped peak view out the windows. The Falls called, so we broke out the bikes and took off along a very nifty bike/walking path that bordered the river as it came through the town. At least the real-estate tax dollars are being put to good public use. The trail was a parade of photo-ops, and we took our share. We biked to the end of the road (unless you have 4-wheel drive) where the switchbacks started to climb up to the falls. We chained the bikes and took off on foot. After an hour-and-a-half of switchbacks, we had gained about 1200 feet. Along the way we posed at the bottom of the falls, threw snowballs from an enduring bank beside the road, and gazed down on the town and everything else from the top of the falls. We continued back into the mountains a ways, following the stream that fed the falls, through a series of small falls and watercourses. Really nice, and we had the place to ourselves. Unbelievably perched on the precipice at the top of the falls is a former resort, now a private retreat. It's off-limits to the public, so we couldn't get right to the edge. We headed back down and enjoyed a cool soaking from the blowing mist at the base of the 350-foot falls, much like Bridalveil Falls in Yosemite Valley. Telluride sits at 8,745 feet, so we were dog-tired after our trek up and down the mountain. No cooking tonight! We found a barbecue place that came recommended in the guide, and it didn't disappoint. Huge honking portions that would have done a trencherman justice. We each ordered the combo plate and beer. Our eyes bugged when the mountain of food arrived, but we are diligent, industrious, pigs! We ate it all. The chef came out to help clear plates and he remarked that when we ordered he was chuckling as he didn't think we knew what we were ordering. He was impressed that we took no prisoners. I was impressed that we could stand up, much less walk out of the place. We staggered around town to walk it off, peering in realty windows and gasping at the prices, and eyeing the swells who were dining in rooms with white tablecloths. They . . . urp . . . don't know what they missed. We ended up in front of the local picture show which was just about to screen Julie Christie in "Away From Her." In we went, and stepped back in time, both with the decor but also with the fact that the manager comes down in front and reads coming attractions and smooshes with the audience. The movie was well done, but a downer, with terrific acting by Christie. We walked back to the park along the dead-silent street, which lasted until we got to our site. Two guys at a nearby site were blasting 60's & 70's music from giant speakers set up in the back of their station wagon. I assumed my most obsequious demeanor and reminded them of the post-10:00 quiet rules. Amazingly, they slurred vague apologies and actually turned everything off. Guess they were chemically more mellow than I thought. Very nice zzzzz the rest of the night in the cool mountain air despite the cat, who apparently is reinvigorated by the same.

JUNE 10-12 Rocky Mountain High & Low

SUNDAY [Click on pics to enlarge] While the bath facilities in Albatross are quite adequate, there's nothing like luxuriating in all the hot water you want, so we used Portal's very nice facilities for a who-knows-when-we'll-get-the-chance-next showers. Did our usual close-it-up (we're such old hands now that we've been on the road a couple of weeks), dumped the tanks (see, it doesn't even faze us anymore), and took off for Colorado, following the river for about 30 miles. The scenery steadily deteriorated, although Loni liked some of the mountains. We hit a high point on I-70 and decided to give Sprint a chance to redeem itself. Voila! Three bars. We called everyone to let them know we still live, and then it faded as we went down the hill. We entered the Grand Valley (think, Grand Junction) and found the turnoff for the Colorado National Monument. This is a spectacular upthrust that simply goes nearly straight up out of the valley floor for about 2,000 feet. The climb up from the floor was another gas sucker, low gears and switchbacks, with one section where the right lane had simply fallen away leaving only the oncoming lane hugging the wall. It looked like they're in the process of repairing it, but this being a Sunday there are no workers about. Nice. With our 11,000 pounds inching over the fractured pavement, we could pitch over and they wouldn't notice until tomorrow. This apparently is not a high-traffic monument, as the campground has 80 spaces and only 2 are taken, according to the peg board at the entrance. We cruised around all the loops in numerical order and found one nearly level space and with a view --- # 79, naturally. This monument is a giant mesa that overlooks the entire valley, from Fruita to Grand Junction, which is spread out below us. We feel like birds hovering above everything on a rocky thermal. We mosied around to various overlooks, had dinner, and went out again for the sunset light. Very nice. After dark, the valley was a maze of tiny lights, absolutely silent from this distance. Jupiter and Venus are super-strong tonight as there is no moon. Back for a little local tv, and crash.

MONDAY There's a 20 mile drive around the rim of the monument, with views at every curve. We wanted an early start so we would get good morning light and color on the cliffs, but we settled for a more leisurely breakfast and so-so light. Once underway, we're enjoying the scenery when we encounter the early-bird road crews already hard at work re-surfacing and re-underpinning (yes, please!) the roadway. The trip down the mesa is a real corkscrew ride with a handful of gulp-factor curves. I'm again glad that Albatross is only 23.5' long, but it's still a w-i-d-e sucker. We're overtaken and passed by two women --- who just have ridden their bikes UP well before dawn --- are enjoying gravity as they scream down the hill through the curves. At the bottom, we wandered through town and gassed up at a place that was "only" $3.15 a gallon. After filling, I noticed that it was part ethanol. Hope that's not a problem. Found another place to top off the propane, re-groceried in the town of Delta, then off to Montrose and the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. This was recommended by Paul as he had toured it on his way out of Colorado. We'd never heard of it before, but it would turn out to be one of the highlights of the trip. This is a "look-down" park as opposed to a place like Zion, which is a look-up at the cliffs place. But to look down, you first must climb, and we did. Up to 8,340 feet for the campground. That'll help the gas mileage. I can't wait until we tour Kansas. The campground was again only sparsely populated, so we found a very easy pull-over spot which didn't even require leveling. Yes! Guess this is a pull-through for bigger rigs, but as most of the others are small and not-so-level, and there's no one here, why not? Dirty looks, that's why not. We had no more than gotten settled in (meaning we took the bikes off the rack for a spin around camp) than several long rigs and trailers drove by, giving us the evil eye for occupying such a primo spot. Tough. Get here earlier. We have electricity, but no water, and with this altitude we have a selection of tv channels. After cruising around the rather homely camp, we took off on foot for the visitor center on a rim trail. Yee gods! This is one steep and dramatic canyon. No sandstone, this is all dark metamorphic rock that was sliced down over the last 2 million years or so by the Gunnison River. VERY impressive sheer walls, tight canyon, with the river about 1800 feet down there. The sky is getting dark and it looks like a good chance of thunderstorms either tonight or tomorrow. Fine by us! It was freezing rain on our tent in Yosemite that convinced us that RVing was our future. Bring it on. Back to the rig. Hmmm, I might have been a bit hasty with the tv opportunities: Oprah is on three of the five stations. Off, and out with the books. A little early Arthur C. Clarke, "The City and The Stars." I must have read it as a teenager, but I've totally forgotten it. Loni's making catfish and brown rice for dinner. This is a beer night, no wine. All is well. We read until the nodding becomes regular, and off to bed. Hark? That sound? It's rain falling on the roof. Sounds like it's settling in for the night. It's a little louder on the escape hatch cover over my bed, but all is good. Maybe it'll wash some of the Kodachrome dust off of things. Wishful thinking.

TUESDAY We sleep in as it is alternately rainy and misty and foggy. We peer out our one-way windows at some tent-campers across the way and silently gloat. Yes, we're bad. Cereal, eggs-on-bagels, and fresh coffee. We bagged the idea of doing the rim road on our bikes. We had encountered a ranger yesterday at the visitor center and she warned that there were virtually no flat spots on the entire road and that even she found it difficult to bike. No martyrs, we, so we'll tour in the rig. We unplug the electric, put out our "site occupied" sign to deter the trailer folks from hijacking the spot, and motor off. There are about 9 or 10 overlook stopping points along the rim road, with short trails from the road out to a point for viewing down into the canyon. Each has a different perspective, and all of them are spectacular. We didn't miss a single one, and glad of it. As we look down at the tortuous river twisting way far below, I have fleeting thoughts of hiking along the river with the boyos and looking UP at all this scenery. A more sober perusal through the binocs convinces me that it would be a tough 5-day slog and scramble along the riverbank, cliffsides, boulders, etc., with water running at Class V+ right next to you, with the need to cross over frequently. Nah, not going to happen. We got to the end of the road, and at 8,340 feet again, we were still in the mist clouds. But we do get a hint of cell service, so we at least check messages, roll over a CD, and get a couple of calls made. Every once in a while the clouds lift and I can see the town of Olathe way down the gorge at the end of the canyon. That must be the source of our signal. Sprint sucks just a little less. Back to our camp spot, free of hijackers, and we read up a bit on our next destination (so we thought) of Mesa Verde. For a while we're entertained by a small yellow finch-type bird (no Auduboner me) which is fiercely, and repeatedly, attacking its image in our dark mirror-like side window. This also drives the cat wild and she tries to catch it by smashing against the glass from the inside. The bird can't see us (or the cat) so it keeps this up . . . for . . . hours. Even the cat falls over and goes to sleep. Fade to dinner, some non-Oprah tv, and zzzzz.

July 6-9: MOAB, CANYONLANDS, ARCHES NP's

WEDNESDAY [click on pics to enlarge] Early up to get to Moab. Wind is blowing ferociously, as it did all night. Downed limbs litter the campground, but none hit us (especially the solar panel) during the night. Can't dump since the hose at the station is messed up, so we take off. At the campground entrance/exit we see a crew working to cut away a huge tree that split in half and just missed the host's trailer. We enjoyed the tailwind on I-70 up to the turnoff on state 19, but from then on it was a steady 30mph 90 degree crosswind on the 2-lane road south to Moab, with gusts to 40 or so. The rig actually tracked pretty well, but my hands were riveted to the steering wheel. At a high point on I-70 we got one-bar service, so picked up a message from Paul saying that he was going to be in Moab at the La Quinta. Saw our first arches off in the distance to the East as we approached Moab, which lies in a valley, making the entry rather scenic. Our AAA guide said Portal RV Resort (that's our spot in the picture above) had the best rates, so we pulled in there. It's just biking distance north of Moab's downtown, and not a particularly pretty campground (nice mountain views, though), but it suited us. We enjoyed e/w/c hookups, and it seemed almost decadent to have cable tv. $27.50 a night, which seems a little rich, but it was the least expensive place in the area. The local KOA wants $50+, and the campgrounds at the parks were full. We had clean showers and very friendly hosts, so thumbs up for Portal. Fired up the cell phone, now that we are in a "real" city (6,000?), and . . . . nada. Zilch. No signal at all. As we were to discover later, Verizon and AT&T come in just fine, but Sprint hasn't gotten around to here yet. Ironically, Sprint is the only one we can get at home, which is why we went with them. This trip has shown that they are very weak in Utah. Drove over to La Quinta to scare up Paul and, after we all did some provisioning, we took off in his car to tour Arches NP. That's "Balancing Rock," naturally; me standing under the largest of the Windows formations.

Amazing how many arch formations are concentrated in this area. Arches is mostly a drive-and-look park, with only a few hikes. We did take the one at the Windows area, which sports 5 or 6 arches and is well worth the brief trek. As we continued on into the park, we got splattered with a brief shower, which I figured would be just enough to mudspot the dust on Albatross if it was raining over there as well. [later: yup, Albatross is now a speckled tern] After finishing with Arches, we headed west a bit and headed for Canyonlands NP. Actually, we ended up at the Dead Horse Point state park just at the entrance. It had been billed as spectacular and it lived up to the press. A mini-grand canyon with a perfect view of the winding Colorado about 2,000 feet below. The wind had come back up, so standing on the edges elevated the heartrate more than usual. We had a hard time holding still enough to snap pictures. Paul and I have retreated to a discrete distance from the ledge. Loni appears to be standing in front of some Disney diaorama, but that's real life, folks. Paul dropped us at the RV and we changed clothes to join Paul at the Moab Brewery for dinner. this is a don't-miss place, with excellent beer (two pitchers and we were very happy) and generous portions of great food. The Jack Daniels sauce on the mammoth burgers was outstanding. We definitely were El Bloato afterwards. Major zzz's tonight.

THURSDAY Paul had booked a full-day Jeep-and-Riverboat trip today, so we're taking a down day to get the rig serviced at the local Ford dealer. We have about 1,200 miles on the clock, and I want to dump the oil and filter to get out the metal bits that flake off in a new engine, and we're overdue for a re-torquing of the lugnuts all around. They got us right in, took a couple of hours, and billed us the princely sum of $40! At a Ford dealer! That's easily an $80 tab back in LA. High marks for Utah! Paul's coming for dinner tonight, so back to the campground to prep. Pan-grilled salmon with homemade apple chutney. YUM. Paul brought a NZ Sauvignon Blanc and a Central Coast Viognier-Chardonnay combo from Qupe. Both were excellent and both were polished off. We take no prisoners. Paul's off tomorrow for points south, so we'll part ways, but he left us his Colorado materials on the Black Canyon of the Gunnison, which we've never heard of. Safe travels, bro, and Leges.

FRIDAY Yesterday, we booked an all day raft trip with Tag-a-Long Tours, one of about a dozen places offering variants of the same trips. Paul used them yesterday on his tours. We pedaled on over to their place at 8:00 and waited while our group formed up. We ended up a french couple, two families of 4, and us. We boarded an entirely disreputable Bluebird schoolbus that was on its third incarnation and had that gritty desert ambiance, towing a huge trailer with three inflatables stacked on it. They travel about twenty miles upriver to a put-in point, where we launched along with other tours from the competition. The Colorado here is fairly wide and slow moving. The trip was rated as rapids I to III, but frankly that seemed like a hype for New York tourists, of which we had some. It was more like 0 to I. Loni was happy nonetheless asthis was her first raft trip. We enjoyed great views as we lazed along. The guides pointed out rock formations that had been used in Jeep and Marine (the climber who morphs into a marine) commercials, and the ranch where the Johns Wayne and Ford shot several movies. The river here is brown as it carries ten times the silt as does the Mississippi, despite much less water volume. Don't drink the water! I began to regret not having a sediment filter on the rig's city water intake. Mental note to buy one. After braving the ripples, and putting in for lunch, we finished about 3:30 and got bussed back to the store. We decided that after a day in the sun there'd be no cooking tonight, so back to the park for showers and a change, and off to Miguel's Baja Grill. If this place was in LA, I'd be a regular. They don't just offer the usual Mexican choices of chicken, beef, and pork, but also lamb for any dish! Loni got the lamb enchiladas and I got the M.O.A.B. -- not the City, but the Mother Of All Burritos. We halved our dinners and split them. The MOAB comes with a choice of sauces. CHOOSE THE MOLE! I happen to like Oaxacan food because of the mole sauces, and we have some topnotch places in LA. But this dark mole was the best of its kind I've ever had. Smoky, chocolatey, and tangy. The margueritas are just so-so, but adequate. The owner came out after the waitress told him we were delerious with lip-smacking and we heaped some praise.Very nice folks. DO make this a stop if you are in Moab. After dinner we motored over to the local triplex for a showing of Pirates III. Yee-gods what dreck. An unfathomable mess. If this had been the first one, the franchise would have been stillborn. The highlight of the evening was our first drive at night in the rig, back to the camp. No sweat.

SATURDAY Rodeo Day! Slept in until 8:00, then watched the three or four endings of the Da Vinci Code on Cinemax while eating breakfast. You gotta take advantage of the amenities when you have em. This is some cable system. Gets not only Cinemax, but HBO, Starz, and Showtime! Biked into town to watch the rodeo parade. This truly is a small town; the parade was over in 15 minutes, but we loved it. Went over to the visitor center and loaded up on brochures, swung by the library for another abortive attempt to post on their free computers, bought some used books for the Albatross Library, and back to the rig for lunch. 91 degrees in the coach. Thank you, Dometic. The Belmont is coming up on the cable . . . and coming up . . . and coming up . . . zzzzzzzzz. Hey, who won? Early dinner of omelets and we then hoof it a mile to the free shuttle pickup at the nearest motel. The rodeo center is at the far end of the other side of town, way too far to bike, especially at night. Unfortunately, being at the end of this side of town, we stop at every motel, and wait at each for at least ten minutes. It takes will over an hour to travel the six miles or so. The arena is an early-dust-bowl indoor job, which seats several thousand. We skooch in, as everybody for many miles around has shown up for this annual event. Lots of cowboy hats, boots, and glad-handing going on. The honorary grand poobah of the rodeo (translation: the major donor) was paraded around the ring in the back of an old convertible. Now, you just have to see the sight of a 55 year-old Chinese transplant from Taiwan in full Gene-Autry regalia waiving his ten-gallon Stetson in a Utah rodeo ring to know you've crossed over into the twilight zone. Apparently he immigrated here 30 years ago and bought a local motel which he's managed ever since. That's him waiving from the car in the parade picture above. Yahooo, ah so! The rodeo itself was fun, but not great. I think this definitely is the B or C circuit, for both the riders and the animals. The first bronc froze in the stall with its rear end high on one wall and its body plastered to the back. Never came out. This happened several times over the evening. Only 2 of 12 bronc riders lasted the required 8 seconds, and none of the bull riders did. I hope they split the prize money. Anyway, a good time was had by all, including your smirking reporter.

June 3-5: CAPITOL REEF & GREEN VALLEY

SUNDAY [Click on any pic to enlarge.] As we have no reservations for Capitol Reef, we're again up early to get there before it fills up. Forded the not-so-raging Creek to exit the campground, and off again on Highway 12, not only designated a "Scenic Byway," but also an "All American Highway." Don't miss it. One stunning vista after another, and different from what came before. An amazing road. While ogling the scenery, we're climbing from 5400 feet to 9600 and I swear I can see the gas gauge actually moving in real time. This will not be a high-mpg leg of the trip. Stopped awhile in Boulder (Utah, not Colorado), which has the distinction of being the last place in the U.S. where mail was delivered by mule! There's a factoid for your next bar bet. This portion of highway 12, built by the CCC, includes the OMIGOODNESS "Hogback" section where the road knifes across the ridgeline with dropoffs on both sides. Loni got to close her eyes; not an option for me. Boulder has a nice museum on the Anasazi, which was open at 8:50 am on a Sunday morning! Utah does not want to miss a single tourist. We continued on up and up and the vegetation changed from sagebrush to Pinyon to Aspen and Pines. 9600 feet is up there! Gave the brakes a workout on the in-excess-of-10% downgrade. Have to say that I'm pleasantly surprised at the smooth and strong brakes on this Ford chassis. No hint of fade, but then I wasn't exactly flying down the hill.

We needn't have worried about no reservations as the Fruita Campground at Capitol Reef was only half full when we pulled in (although it filled up by the end of the day). We snagged a great spot with all-day shade, which is a blessing with our still-busted AC. We were scheduled to stay the next night at the lunar Goblin State Park, but Fruita was so nice we decided to forfeit that (for which we did have a $23 reservation) and stay an extra night at Fruita. This place is a true oasis of green. We biked the mile over to the visitor center and listened to a talk while looking at the 20' relief map of the area. On the ride back I nearly got sideswiped by a Class A which cut in a little too quickly. I hope he could read my lips in his mirror. The Fruita Campground occupies an old orchard farm, and still retains all the various trees: apples, peaches, cherries, apricots, and a single huge mulberry. Campers are welcome to pick a reasonable quantity of anything that is in season. The rangers even have stepladders out in the orchards. You're supposed to drop a buck or two in the iron warden for whatever you pick, and the cherries we got were well worth it.
The home of the former homesteaders here is now a mini-museum of their lives, and also sells locally made ice cream and pies. Ate two cups of delicious ice cream and bought a cherry pie for tonight. Yum. Back at the rig I unearthed the portable grill and tank and set them up. Grilled chicken legs were on the menu, but the dang grill wouldn't light. I think the orifices are clogged with that &$%!!@#(&%$ red dust from Kodachrome. On to Plan B, and cook in the coach. Solace arrives in the guise of a Bogle 04 Petit Sirah, with "Rhythm of the Saints" on the stereo.

MONDAY Cat cooperated last night so we got some very peaceful z's. Today we break out the bikes to tackle the 20 mile (round trip) Scenic Drive from the camp to the end of the paved road, down the valley formed by this part of the Reef. Pretty hot today, and we're starting at 5,500 feet. The Drive climbs for the first 5 miles to a "divide," then goes down 5 to the end. Loni was a trouper: almost nary a discouraging word. What she couldn't ride, she walked. Everything seems magnified when you're biking instead of in a car. We started way beyond those cliffs you see in the background. Having made it to the Slickrock Divide halfway point, uh, a discussion(!) ensued along the lines of "what goes down must come back up." But, in the words of the immortal Shad, we are "dead game sports," so we press on. It sure was nice to virtually coast the next 5 miles. Ate lunch at the end, sporting our electrified petroglyph bibs, spotted a mountain sheep clambering around, and headed back. That's Loni posing in front of the "Egyptian Temple" formation. Suffice to say we enjoyed the part again AFTER the Slick Rock Divide. Coasting home, we hit camp, didn't break stride, and made a beeline for the ice cream store. After loading up on essential fats and carbs, we headed across the highway to the Petroglyphs. They've been around for up to 700 years or so, and some are still impressively clear human and animal figures. On the way back we stopped at the Mulberry tree, which was loaded with overripe fruit --- as in delicious. It was so soft it nearly disintegrated the moment you picked it, so taking it home was out. But, I managed to stuff enough into my mouth to satisfy my sweet tooth. My hands were stained burgundy for days afterwards. They taste like blackberries with a hint of a bite. Spent the rest of the afternoon with 1776, marveling at how Washington made so many heroically bad tactical decisions. The man was a great actor, doing a marvelous job of inspiring the troops while leading them into one disaster after another. Oh well, we're all here and we don't have to kiss the Queen's patootie. He did all right in the end. Dinner tonight is Top-Ramen gala-- the boxed noodles with added fresh spinach, veggies, and chicken, washed down with a Moab Brewery Scorpion Ale for the hopheads among us. We wandered the campground afterwards and found an interesting mix. Mormon family of 5 in a trailer, a solitary man in a beat-up van camper who strums the guitar and sings softly, a french couple, a dutch couple, two elderly U.S. pairs, one in an old Toyota RV and the other in a 40' bus, three Harley riders with the obligatory sleeveless vests and long hair, pitching tents, and the young tent couple behind us who practice yoga twice a day. It does take all kinds, thank goodness.

TUESDAY Liesurely departure this morning. Couldn't dump the tank properly as the camp's water wand hose was defective, doing a knockout job of spraying me with nothing coming out the business end. Bid farewell to the icecream/pie house and moved out. The road is nice for a short while, but we obviously were descending into much less dramatic stuff. We spotted tonights destination, Green River, from a high point and it certainly is as described: an oasis in the desert. A patch of green in a lot of brown. Once we get there, the town is largely a collection of gas stations (some abandoned) and motels (some which look abandoned but are indeed still open for business). All in all, a big zero on the charm scale, attractive only by comparison to the wasteland that surrounds it. We took no pictures. The eponymous state park is a grove of cottonwoods adjacent at one small point to the Green River, which is surprisingly wide. Where's all the water coming from in the midst of a drought? This is a "down" day for laundry and haircuts. We find a nice laundry, and the haircuts are al fresco at our campsite. The ever-increasing winds took care of most of the cleanup. Supposed to rain tonight and have fierce winds. Hmmmm. Under a cottonwood tree? We took off for the ONLY attraction in town, the John Wesley Powell museum. I have to admit, it was quite good. A lot larger and more professionally done than I expected to find here. If you're passing through, do stop. Afterwards, we tried the cell, and got in-and-out one bar service. Managed to pick up 5 messages from Paul, who's roaming through Colorado, but headed for Moab like we are. Hopefully we'll get some service in Moab. Haven't had any for a week. Got ready to crash and, hark! What's that? Not a cow. Nope, it's a train. The tracks are about 100 feet away, and the engineer is fulfilling his legal and quite useless obligation to blow his horn at crossings for the "traffic," of which there is none. And, did I say the wind was picking up?

May 31-June 2 ESCALANTE & CALF CREEK

THURSDAY. Woke up early to a regular "kafoooosh" sound going on and off. Ten minutes of pondering and I rolled out to investigate. Well, crawled out. Rolled out is a no-no for the overcab sleeper. The sound was coming from the outside. Opened the door to a crystalline blue sky and a brightly colored hot air balloon moving serenely by. The kafoosh, of course was the burner going off and on. Snapped a couple of pics as it drifted down and out of sight. Since we're in the middle of nowhere, hard to figure where it came from or was landing. Breakfasted and out to take on the Panorama trail to Panorama Point. No breeze today, so fairly hot slogging across ravines and hills to the Point, which is a mound of earth high enough to give a good view of the west end of the park. Back to the rig, buttoned everything up, and off to Escalante. Stopped in Cannonville in a little park to have lunch, surrounded by dozens of local high-schoolers celebrating "Cindy"'s birthday. Ther was a certain innocence of spirit that reminded me of my Modesto days many years ago, and which seems quite lacking in Los Angeles teens.

The drive to Escalante is along highway 12, which is designated a scenic highway for good reason. Spectacular views at every turn, and we stopped often. Arrived at Escalante State Park, checked in, and took off to the adjacent town to get groceries and precious fluids which, again thanks to Utah laws, can't be bought in the same place. The produce section at the only grocery store was all of six feet long --- for everything! But, surprizingly, we got excellent tomatoes, strawberries, and bananas. Back at the park we found the entrance blocked by five trailer rigs that were traveling together and all checking in at the same time. Killed the engine and sat for 20 minutes. Serenity, now. Then, 35 minutes of crawling behind on the single lane road as each one made multiple attempts to fit into its space. Bottled serenity, NOW! Once installed at our site, we found the park quite nice. It's at 5,500 feet, with grass instead of grit, and a 145 acre lake. Took four blocks high in the front to get level. Chicken-veggie-noodle stir-fry for dinner, washed down by the last of Paul's wines, an Adelaida Rhone-style blanc. Oh, yes. Leges, Pablo. A great station out of Logan is playing good soft rock mixed with old standards -- Tony Bennett, Sinatra, etc. Might as well finish the bottle as we're well beyond half way. Serenity achieved. Life is good. About 10:00 we made our way through the dark down to the pier on the lake. We had it to ourselves, and a full moon was rising behind and through some low cowboy clouds, with the rest of the sky clear. Absolutely beautiful, silent night. A magical moment. Then, "Marrrrroooooouh." "Marrrrrooooough." Ah, the haunting bellow of the night-cow, floating across the lake from some pasture over thataway. We burst out laughing. Talk about a spellbreaker. To bed.

FRIDAY Cat active all night. Going to have to keep her moving more during the day. Escalante is the home of a petrified forest, so we're off on the trail to view the ancient wood. Pretty neat stuff. Some pieces even show the growth rings, all in minerals, of course. Hiked for a while with a nice young couple from Germany who are touring the west in a rented RV. After finishing the hike, we rode the bikes over to the Interagency (BLM, National lparks, Forest SErvice, etc) Center in the town. Very nice displays including some microscope stations for examining the cyanobotic structures in the local rock. Very neat. Son Mike, the geologist, would like this. Loafed the rest of the afternoon and watched a large group of Dads and Sons (all of whom seemed to be about 5 years old) move in and set up tents. At least four of them had bright red hair. Took advantage of the stellar bath facilities here to take a liesurely shower with plenty of hot water. Utah State Parks appear to be very well run and have excellent bathroom and shower facilities, even heated for night or cold weather use. Sinach, cheese and tomato omelets for dinner tonight, with half a bottle of cab that we had been sitting on for too long. Logan is plaing Nat King Cole, etc, so all is well. No moos. Loni trounced me in gin rummy. ZZZ.

SATURDAY Up at 6:30, off the blocks, dump tanks, and into Escalante for provisions. Out again on fabulous highway 12. DO take this road. Loni declines the generous offer to drive the serpentine, corkscrew descent through beautiful canyons. She gets to sit shotgun and peer over the dropoffs on that side. We only go about 15 miles from Escalante and pull into the Calf Creek BLM campground. We were alerted to this by a guidebook that said the waterfall hike was great. The campground is tiny -- only 13 spaces -- placed on both sides of Calf Creek with a submerged roadway through the Creek. We had to ford over it to get the only available spot, # 7, which was quite fine. I walked back to pay the fee, casually disregarded the warning sign at the ford: "extremely slippery due to moss," and proceeded to pirouette my way across. Nothing damaged but dignity, which already was in short supply. We took off on the hike to Lower Calf Creek Falls, six miles round trip. Despite the sandy slogging on much of the trail, this is a gorgeous hike, with steep walls that look like a sandstone Yosemite with multiple half domes. The falls were worth the effort. 126 feet high spilling down a mossy cliffside. It was at least 25 degrees cooler in the waterfall cleft, and with a steady breeze generated by the water. The Dads and Boys from Escalante were all here as well, and kudos to those kids for toughing out the slogging trail. Lunch (nuts and apple) at the falls, then back to the rig for some down time. Stretch out on one of the couches and continue my reading of McCulloug's "1776," an account of the early days of the Revolution, focusing on George Washington. It's a miracle this country ever got birthed with all of the bad decisions being made by you-know-who. Dinner is sticky rice-ham-corn-bell pepper-broccoli hash. Trust me. It tasted much better than it sounds, and matched quite well, thank you, with a Heineken. No cows along the Calf Creed, just the sound of rushing water to . . . zzzzzzzzz.