Saturday - First Leg Home to Shamrock, TX

6 am comes early in Flagstaff.  Barely awake we filled the car with luggage and our bodies with food, attempting not to confuse the two.  Our destination for today, Shamrock, TX!!!  Eleven hours on the road, eleven hours of rapidly changing landscapes, eleven hours of comedy satellite radio.  Bless Hertz and providing satellite radio in Thor.  While the comedy was not always great, it staved away the threat of road snoozing.  The two of us have completed 75 percent of the road work of this trip and managed not to execute any Thelma and Louise type scenarios; driving into a canyon whilst clasping hands was highest on our worry list.  Having reached the flatlands of north Texas, our fears have been allayed.

Immediately prior to reaching Amarillo, TX we found ourselves drawn to yet another tourist trap and maybe the oddest one.  Ladies and gentlemen, we present to you the Cadillac Ranch.  In 1974 an artist decided to plant several Cadillacs nose down on a farm.  My guess was that he assumed that with enough rain and some agricultural know how, Cadillacs would begin to sprout.  Alas, only the originals remain.  These originals have been visited by many spray paint wielding pilgrims over the past 38 years.  Now each of the vehicles is covered in a techni-colored sarcophagus, it's beautiful, a tear may have been shed.  

Passing through Groom, TX would could not help but notice a massive cross that looked almost identical to the one that is visible from Interstate 70 in Effingham.  This prompted an immediate Google search.  We not only discovered that the people of Effingham are COPYCATS but are also megalomaniacs insisting that their cross be 8 feet taller to claim biggest giantist ridiculous cross fame.  Groom, TX now brought us within an 78 miles of Shamrock.  This was either then longest 78 miles of our lives, or Shamrock was rapidly moving northeast into Oklahoma to prevent us from invading.  Erin creepily lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper and implored that Julie "Drive Faster", apparently fearing that Shamrock may overhear.  Luckily it did not move quickly enough and we successfully managed to lasso the city and park ourselves in the shockingly well appointed Holiday Inn Express.

This is the smallest town, yet nicest hotel of the trip.  The hotel is booked solid and the city has nothing to offer other than highway access and Big Vern's Steakhouse.  OK folks, let's talk steak.  We had mixed expectations. This is Texas, steak should be great. We had in fact driven past several cows, one of which we may have eaten.  We each ordered a 10 ounce strip steak and drinks in giant fishbowls, ate until our sinuses were full of beef.  There was food in front of us and we didn't want to eat it...we had become everything we've ever hated.  No sooner than they had cleared our plates, our check was pushed into our faces and we were practically escorted out the door.  However, we highly recommend Big Vern's - really great steak and the staff was actually very friendly.

After having our drink service cut off by the staff at Big Vern's, we scoured the town for an establishment that would sell us booze in order for us to cap off our night.  After visiting 3 different locations, we finally found a gas station with a beer and wine selection.  While waiting in line at Shamrock's newest travel center to smell like us after a camping trip, Julie was flattered to find a nod from one of the locals.  In her "softest" voice, she leaned in to Erin to say, "That guy behind you has my name tattooed on his neck."

So, we wrap up this trip with a bottle of gas station chardonnay sprinkled with ice cubes while finishing our last post and watching Silence of the Lambs. We can't think of a better way to end our Great Western Adventure!

Friday - Flagstaff and South Rim of Grand Canyon

This morning, we felt we deserved a morning to sleep in and take our time deciding what to do. After leisurely eating breakfast and cramming as many free Uncrustables sandwiches into our pockets, purses, bras and underwear, we set off to discover Flagstaff.

Flagstaff Expectation: Rough and rugged mountain men with people still panning for gold in the streets.
Flagstaff Reality:  The city itself was wearing a kitschy scarf, skinny jeans, and 80's style plastic rimmed glasses. We've never seen a higher concentration of hipsters.  This town was a town before mountains were cool.

In an attempt by businesses to cater to their Hippies and Hipsters, trying to find a restaurant in downtown Flagstaff that actually served any variation of meat was a challenge.  Upon settling on a micro brewery, Erin promptly ordered a "Herbivore Burger" (basically a Garden Burger) so as not to be shunned by the locals.

After lunch, we too felt we deserved more time to sleep and took a 2 hour nap.  Having rested as much as possible (before it turned into full-on sleep and we woke up at 1:30am wide awake), we dragged ourselves out of bed to head to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.  Along our drive, we saw numerous signs pointing us in the direction of "watchable animals," and with unfortunately high expectations of a chipmunk Rockettes line or elk reciting Shakespeare, we alas did not manage to find any real "watchable" animals.  Grand Canyon area wildlife is definitely not as talented as we would have hoped.

As we arrived at the mammoth South Rim Visitor Center and leaving our car quite obviously parked in the monstrous "Itchy Lot," we began walking towards the rumored splendor of the canyon.  As we walked and walked and walked, we couldn't help but wonder, where the f*#k is this actual canyon??  Amid a maze of foreigners, foreigners, and a few sprinkled in Americans, we were finally able to locate a hole in the ground.  It was rather disappointing, not exactly the splendor we had imagined.  Upon realizing that we were gazing at a small hole in the pavement, we continued our search.  Strapping on our Magellan caps we managed to navigate our way to what seemed like the end of the earth.  Quite literally, the earth ended and dropped off into canyon oblivion.  We believe that 'Grand' is not a strong enough word to describe the expanse of this canyon.  We will be sending a thesaurus to the National Parks Service with several suggestions highlighted.

Tourist mode kicked in rather quickly, pictures were snapped at an alarming rate with little concern for aim and quality; there was a bit of a sensory overload.  Julie was so moved by the canyon that she practiced her newly discovered parkour skills on every available rocky surface, followed by an attempt to climb over the railing and down to the abyss.  Her cries of "Hardcore Parkour" were heard from rim to rim.  Sunset was rapidly approaching, and we navigated Thor to the Village.  A little known fact; parking at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon is a competitive sport, and in some cases a contact sport.  Managing to snag a spot and dashing as quickly as our oxygen deprived lungs would allow, we arrived in time to watch the sun sink beyond the crags, casting shadows that can't adequately be captured by photography.  Satisfied that the sun had completely sank away we raided a few gift shops, balked at the prices and headed back to find Thor.

During our seemingly interminable trek back to our parking spot we were greeted by a half dozen deer grazing along the roadside.  In wide eyed awe, Erin snapped a few pictures, only to realize that the deer were indeed zombies.  The glowing eyes, menacing stance, and distinct look that said only one word... "brains".  Picking up the pace we found ourselves only a short distance from an shockingly burly elk.  We were cautious, and took pictures from afar.  Other tourists had less trepidation of the half ton antlered animal.  A woman was playing 'elk paparazzi', snapping full flash pictures inches from the creatures face.  Watching from afar, we could only hope that she would be smacked by the large ungulate.  

Narrowly escaping our zombie deer attack, we made our way back to Flagstaff to begin to prepare for our two day drive home.  

Thursday - Grand Canyon North Rim and Mule Ride

We waved goodbye to Page, AZ this morning.  Heading along the Vermillion Cliffs that led to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon we crossed the rather petrifying Navajo Bridge near Lees Ferry.  The official quote as we crossed the bridge from Julie was 'Oh God, my butthole just inverted'.  There was a 'Scenic View' sign we just couldn't ignore, we needed to commemorate the inversion inducing depths below.  After voluntarily evacuating our bladders and involuntarily evacuating other regions, we continued to head west to the North Rim.

We enjoyed a picnic lunch of sammiches overlooking Bright Angel Canyon, the pot smoking little brother to the Grand Canyon that never really amounted to much.  It's a big hole in the ground, but not big enough to call 'Grand'. At this point, we were going to include a picture of our little pot smoking brother...however in reviewing our photos taken we came to realize that apparently he was too high and his eyes were too red so we don't have any pictures of him.  Since we couldn't find one, we included this picture of this old woman smoking a mad blunt.  She's high as a mother-f*#@er

Now, those familiar with our posts know that Julie has been fearing this trek via mule for weeks (thanks to the frequent warnings and scoffs of her coworkers), and finally the day arrived.  Honestly, it turned out to be a competition to find out who was more stubborn, us or our respective mules (Ms. Piggy and Dolly).  Downhill...correction, down canyon, is terrifying on a mule, whom I think may have been drunk.  Weaving down the narrow trail mere inches away from the edges the cliff.  (Wandering precariously close to the edge of a great precipice seems to be an unintended theme to this trip).  It was not the smoothest of rides, taking pictures of the Grand Canyon from muleback is not the easiest of tasks.  Chaffing, an issue.  Death grip on saddle resulting in the 'claw', an issue.  Horrific mule farts, an issue.  From personal experience, mules enjoy roughage, and will either pull you and the reigns over the it's own head, or take the route of Julie's mule (Dolly) and pull an entire tree to beat her in the face with it.  This event was apparently a first for our tour guide laughed whole-heartedly as the mule repeatedly whipped Julie with the branches.  We finished our mule tour looking suspiciously like bandits.  Why bandits?  Because Erin had the presence of mind to pack bandanas to wrap bank robber style across our faces as the mules kicked dust into our faces.  The area on which the bandanas resided ended up being the only clean spot on our bodies.  Look out Wells Fargo, HERE WE COME!!!

Wednesday - Antelope Canyon and Lake Powell

Upon arriving in Page, Arizona, we miraculously gained one hour.  We checked into the hotel and in finally settling into the room, we glanced at the clock assuming it to read 11:00pm.  Somehow as if by magic, we were transported to the mystical world of 10:00pm. God bless Arizona for not participating in Daylight Saving Time. Astounded and dumbfounded, we had to call the front desk to verify the time.

This morning, we gave ourselves enough time to get ready for our first planned excursion which immediately turned into a panicked dash to grab as many powdered scrambled eggs and cold sausage in order to board the open-sided cattle chariot with rubber band shocks awaiting to escort us to Antelope Canyon. Prior to our twenty minute drive, we were warned by our Navajo guide to secure all loose items and if anything were to fall out, we will not be stopping to go back for it.  As our chariot squealed onto the main drag in Page, it became glaringly apparent that we ourselves were, in fact, loose items.

We debarked our special chariot to begin our guided tour.  As we and our Navajo guide soon discovered, we were probably the only English speaking individuals there. The already pungent aroma from our numerous European friends was only amplified by the narrow enclosures of the slot canyons. Slot canyons, as defined by Websters, are narrow canyons that are formed by the wear of water rushing through rock.  Judging by the two of us, our ten Navajo guides and about half the population of Europe and Asia, we we forced to act as human mortar to fill all the crevices of the slot canyon.  Despite all of the impeding arms, heads, hands, and body odor, we still managed to get some pretty decent pictures. 

After lunch, we had signed up for a half day tour of Lake Powell.  Now, being from St. Louis, we had overwhelming fear as we watched the temperature ratchet to over 100 degrees. At home, this means certain stifling death. Sweat, vomit, die.  In Page, well, it's a dry heat.  However, had we not had our water strapped to our backs with convenient rubbery straws leading directly into our mouths, there may have been another heat tragedy.  

Our guide, Dave, was an interesting story.  Upon graduating high school in New Jersey, he took a 3 week vacation to the area, and decided to never go back.  It's a fairytale story, really, Boy meets nature, Boy says FU to Jersey, Boy turns into a sinewy piece of leather giving kayak tours to fat, lazy Americans who have no purpose navigating aquatic vessels.

After waiting out 5 other groups of kayakers who were obviously not running on the same timeline laid out for us, we finally put into the water 1 hour late.  We had a small learning curve to figure out how to obtain forward momentum of the kayak, but we eventually figured out a rhythm.  Now Dave tried really hard to holler out directions, but he may not have realized how ambiguous his directions were.  "We're going to head over the left of that rock." "Dave! Are f'ing serious??? I'm not sure if you're are of this, but we are completely surrounded by rock!  We could easily paddle for 262 miles and still not be to the left of 'that rock!'" 

One of the highlights of our half day trip was that they were going to take us into the narrows of the canyons surrounding Lake Powell.  It was something that we were really excited about...until we finally began making the turns towards the narrows.  The rock formations becoming taller and more textured certainly provided a stellar distraction to the looming death that was floating in the water around us.  As the walls began to close in and more dead fish were floating in the water around us, we approached the narrows.  Excited, Julie began to paddle eagerly towards these narrows.  However, the water had taken a Disney villain turn and became more the texture of maple syrup mixed with hamster bedding shavings.  The wildlife in the narrows was surprising to say the least.  Apparently, this is where the elusive flip flop breeds, they were everywhere.  The impending sense of vomit came in waves as the sludge dripped from our oars to coat our bodies in a light layer.  Still we forged on, barely squishing through the openings to emerge at the other side which was even more gross than the beginning. At any rate, upon turning around we frantically raced to the open waters of the lake to cleanse ourselves of the mysterious goo.  With our kayaking adventure coming to a close we had one final feat, to paddle for what seemed like roughly 6 nautical miles across open water, dodging speedboats and keeping a watchful eye out for canyon sharks.

P.S. - If you ever find yourself at Ken's Old West in Page, AZ; be cautious of the beef ribs, they will flip over your Flintstone car.  

Tuesday - Mesa Verde & Four Corners

We find ourselves in Radiator Springs…. Um, I mean Cortez, CO.  There are similarities that cannot be ignored.

• We saw a truck that bore a striking resemblance to Mater at Wal-Mart Tire and Lube (more on why we were there to follow).
• CDoT employees can lay asphalt for dozens of miles in approximately 6 hours.  Clearly it was completed a la Lightning McQueen style.  Yes, I'm an adult making references to a children's movie!  You want to fight about it?
• The town featured numerous buildings in 1950’s neon style and generally exudes a Radiator Springs aura.

This morning we started in true Great Western Adventure fashion; with a trip to Wal-Mart Tire and Lube!!!  Apparently, Thor was dangerously low on oil, and we came to a consensus that maybe we should invest in an oil change before driving a couple thousand more miles.  After spending $30 on car maintenance on a rental car we decided that Thor needed to be punished.  After being the victim of extortion from a National Park Ranger, paying $15 just to enter the park, we traveled a serpentine path up and down several mesas.  Erin screamed the whole way up, which wouldn't have been so disconcerting had she not been driving.

After 15 miles of the 2nd most terrifying, white knuckled, 30 MPH driving, we arrived at the park to begin our tours.  Tickets bought (a mere $3 a piece, a deal compared to what the pirates took from us at the entrance of the park) we snagged a quick lunch.  We went local and nommed on the Navajo Tacos.  We were each handed a Navajo fry bread on top of which was piled a dramatic culinary recreation of the massive mesa on which we stood.  I'm not good with the metric system, but I'm estimating that the fry bread was stacked with about half a meter of spicy shredded chicken and various spicy salsas worthy of hazmat labeling.

Fed and armed with our CamelBaks full of water we began yet another 35 minute drive to the first tour.  We had assumed that driving along narrow roads skirting drops that caused mini-coronaries at every hair pin turn would be the most harrowing experience of the day, we were wrong.  Apparently, the National Parks Service is a bit sadistic when it comes to tourists visiting Mesa Verde.  Should you choose to visit Mesa Verde, specifically Balcony House, the least terrifying activity is climbing a steep 45 foot ladder (MADE OF WOOD) to stand precariously within a cliff dwelling of the Anasazi/Ancestral Puebloans.  Cliff, yes cliff dear readers.  No protective railings, no carabiners, no hand holding keeping us from plummeting approximately 1000 feet from our already 7000 foot perch.  Instead the NPS merely says, "hey, watch your footing on these crumbly rocks and try not to fall down, it's a lot of paperwork."  That being said, both Balcony House and Cliff Palace (Google Mesa Verde, Cliff Palace is the one you'll see) are amazing.  We were in awe of the feats of engineering, the beauty of the mesa itself, and we paid respect to the land that the local Utes still revere as a spiritual place of their ancestors.  We could not help but imagine that if we lived in these cliffs one of several things would happen:

A.  Spend a night drinking too much fire water and proceed to walk off the cliff.
B.  Sleep walk straight out of the dwelling and snooze in blissful ignorance all the way to the canyon floor.
C.  Be chased by a rabid chipmunk, plummeting while cursing the tiny rodent.
Climbing around the cliffs, up and down rickety ladders, clambering up footholds carved into rocks, and squeezing through tunnels on hands and knees:  It was all worth it, check mark the bucket list item!



Next stop, the four corners; UT, NM, AZ, and CO!  Stand in four states at once, you try it, it's not easy.  Not having a real idea of what the monument itself would look like, we assumed it would resemble what we are familiar with.  Four states intersecting, each one a slightly different color.  We were wrong, it looks nothing like on the map.  It's brown...dusty, desert, brown... did I mention brown.  The four corners is a barren wasteland, but the Navajo turned it into a money maker.  They host closet sized shops surrounding a plaque that shows the convergence of the four states.  Tourist trap, we were drawn to it like moth to a flame.  

Monday - Royal Gorge Rafting and Ziplining

Today was definitely our longest and most ambitious of days--so our apologies for a short post because it's late and we're exhausted because we've been up since about 5:30 this morning.  And more apologies - cameras would have been next to impossible during our excursions due to water & general activity, therefore we have minimal photos from the day.

(It should also be mentioned that Julie realized as we were getting ready to leave to board the bus to begin our excursions that she had neglected to shave in a few days and was sporting armpits full of hair to rival any Sasquatch...which is why from here on out she will only be referred to as Sasquatch).

Sasquatch: On the bus to begin our journey, we were given the quintessential speech that would scare the hell out of us about falling out of the boat.  Additionally, we chose the more challenging course of the Royal Gorge which gave us 3-4 level rapids being all the more dangerous, so needless to say, Sasquatch scared.  I dare say, we handled ourselves very well, we didn't have any swimmers and nobody was injured.  We had a great time with our guide, Beaner (yes, Beaner, as he said he was aptly nicknamed because he was born in Mexico).  And our boatmates were an interesting bunch...

Erin:  Meathead dental students, four of them, that is the best way to describe our fellow paddlers.  Apparently dental schools have some serious gyms in them.  I learned nothing of orthodontia from our boatmates, but I know each one of their preferred bench press grips.  Beaner, our Mexican born, blonde hair, fair skinned, dread-locked guide, successfully controlled the muscle bound mouth examiners and the raft.  He did a great job of combining adventure, exercise, and a wee bit of terror as we navigated the Arkansas river.  As thanks Sasquatch, myself, and our dental friends made a solemn promise to Beaner; if we ever meet Sandra Bullock, we are to punch her in the face and kick her in the cooter.  Pass it along, for Beaner.  White water rafting was part one of a day long package.  Apparently, part of the package was a 67 mile drive to Salida, CO (rhymes with saliva) to reach the ziplining portion of the trip.  A little known fact, 'zipline' is an old Ute Indian word meaning, "to sail over canyons with wedgie".  Now I have been ziplining before, while my Sasquatch friend has not; I was not prepared for the heights and distance which I would be careening across the expanses.  I was not afraid however, I had the appropriate safety equipment.  The tiny helmet I wore would surely save me from the 1000 foot fall.

Sasquatch: After a near cowardly bail before we even filled out the release forms (you know the ones, summarizing legalese that basically says "you get hurt, you die, tough noogies, it's not our fault"), Sasquatch mustered her bravery and made the best of the situation.  Now, going back to the fact that Sasquatch is quite furry at this point, it became glaringly apparent that there was no way around not having to raise my arms above my head while our poor guides had to bury the faces near the mess to attach the necessary "don't die" equipment to the line of gliding death.  After making it successfully through the first run and allowing enough time for the violent full body shaking to subside, it wound up being a very exhilarating  experience.

Erin: And to our fortune, while waiting to begin our ziplining, we caught someone whistling a faint tune.  An ever consistent tune to our trip.  Ladies and gentlemen, again by special request, PANAMA!

So, ziplining over it became another trek across the state of Colorado through some very very terrifying mountainous areas.  Erin did a superb job white-knuckled navigating us through some of the most terrifying driving I've ever been witness to.  I'm not sure which we more afraid of - the constant flashing signs warning of moose/elk/deer (we're not sure to what they were referring), the looming wildfires around every turn, or plummeting Toonses the Driving Cat style into one of the numerous surrounding ravines.  Whose bright idea was it to put 65 MPH highways through the mountains? Too fast!

Julie: As a nod to my brother and his newly acquired profession in the tourism industry, I have a profound appreciation for the young guys and girls who work for these companies.  Thank you so much to our guides for the day.  We didn't tip them nearly enough as they helped make our day so memorable. So to Beaner, Josh, and the other guy whose name we cannot seem to remember (no matter how many google searches we perform trying fruitlessly to find out), thank you thank you thank you!  If you're ever in Colorado, we highly recommend www.raftmasters.com and www.captainzipline.com for your rafting and zipping needs!

P.S. We have successfully managed to eradicate the entire bug population in the state of Colorado with our windshield.  You're welcome.

Sunday - Colorado Springs

Upon finally waking and getting our day started, we ventured out to find our activities for the day.
A wonderful surprise--in the car as we're pulling out of the parking lot. It was as though the gods smiled on us and said, "We have another special request. Up next, we have...PANAMA!"

Erin:  First item on the agenda Garden of the Gods.  I've always had a great appreciation for nature, but Garden of the Gods was AMAZING!  Just ask Julie.  We had intended a nice hike through the park enjoying the red rocks, but instead it was a halting tourist nightmare.  The nightmare was none other than myself.  Armed with a camera roughly the size of a toddler, I forced us to stop every ten feet or so in order to snap a picture.  In wide eyed awe, every time I turned around I magically transformed into a one eyed 30x zoom monster.  OH LOOK!!! IT'S BEAUTIFUL!!!!   CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK.  After being subdued by my travel buddy, I managed to make the rest of the trek with only periodic stops to don my photolens mask.  When we made our leave I rode the breaks all the way down the mountain (canyon trip, yes yes I know) only to find my self squealing to a halt in order to take a few select snap shots from the side of the road.  Julie had no choice in the matter as I ran with reckless abandon out of Thor with the car keys in one hand and my trusting child sized camera in the other up a steep incline for one more picture.  My mission complete, we lunch!

Julie: We had a wonderful lunch in Downton Colorado Springs.  Our meals had vegetables - we were elated! After that, I had a hokey idea to visit the Ghost Town Museum.  Things we learned from the museum:

1) Someone spent a ridiculous amount of time and money collecting an amazing collection of turn-of-the-century items.
2) Erin is not a trick shot with a 50 cent shotgun while shooting a buffalo's butt or a tin can
3) If they tell you you're panning for gold and they mix in sparkly confetti into the sand.  It's not gold! No matter how long Erin sits hump-backed furiously sifting sand and examining every speck within the trough. There will not be any gold.
4) You've seen stagecoaches - these people managed to fit 11 people inside one of those
5) Ocarina's are real and not just exclusive to Zelda
6) Erin looks awesome in a buffalo hat

Erin:  I'm not sure if this is common knowledge, but I am a military aircraft nerd.  I like them, I can name them, I do not know how to fly them.  Blame my Popsicle, it's his fault, too many air shows when I was a child.  There is some prime real estate in Colorado Springs, the US Government seems to own 90% of it.  Nestled at the foot of the Rockies stands a pretty amazing campus.  We imagined what it would be like to attend a school in such a picturesque setting, then we realized, we would have to attend a military school (dreams abandoned).  Instead I snapped pictures like a psycho tourist.  My first target, the chapel.  If you've never seen it, it's pretty astounding, google it.  It's like a wondrous multi-religious metallic version of vertically stacked tortilla chips.  Beyond the holy nacho structure I found multiple statues of historic aircraft, I geeked out in grand fashion.  After naming ever plane and snapping pictures I provided Julie with historical accounts of WWII bombing campaigns.  Once I woke Julie from her nerd induced nap, we wandered our way back up the path to the visitor center.  On the path we noticed a rustling in the brush just beyond the path. Now, we had been notified frequently about not feeding the wildlife. We waited patiently for a snake, squirrel, or honey badger to dash out. Julie had high hopes of a degenerate hijacker to appear in search of a fruitless hunt for Cheetos. After several tense minutes, we decided to dash up the path  back to the safety of the visitor center to shop for gifts for Popsicle.

Julie: The rest of the evening was mainly uneventful except for our evening visit to Altitude Drunk.  Again, things we learned were that jalapenos in a margarita can be extremely painful, anecdotes about coworkers related to spicy foods and sour cream can be extremely funny (please ask either of us for the full uncensored story), and that attempts by Julie to heavily salt chips for her own pleasure, then stealing said chips and visibly and actively scraping the salt off will push Julie off the edge.  Julie likes salt. Please don't f*#k with that.