National Park Fatigue Syndrome

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We’re cruising down Interstate 10 and quickly approaching the end of our journey around the U.S. This of course means a lot of tying up of loose ends and lightening up our loads. This also means passing our little Subaru on to her new owner, Tyrone, a college student in El Paso who fell in love with her at first sight from our posting on Craig’s list. I hope it all works out; it’s comforting to know that her new owner is going to show her some love.

Despite the work ahead of us, we’re also really getting excited for Mexico. We’ve seen some beautiful country over the last few days, but frankly I think we’ve reached our limit of National Parks and camping and long days at the wheel. We want to chill out a bit more, kick back, relax. And honestly, our bank account just can’t handle many more days of American prices. Give us some pesos already!

But before we run away forever to Mexico or Guatemala or Belize or wherever we end up, let me give you the skinny on the beautiful National Parks that we visited around the Southwest.

Zion: Good god, I loved it here. I want to retire here and drive the tourist shuttle up and down the gorgeous little canyon all day, telling tourists amusing stories (such as the one about the family that first settled here who, being good Mormons, went off to church one Sunday, only to return to find their house smashed flat by a huge slab of sandstone that had fallen from the cliff face above their homestead), educating park visitors about the geologic wonders of the canyon (did you know that the red of the rocks is the byproduct of water reacting within the rock to form iron oxide (rust) that seeps down through the porous rock? The white color is formed in the same way, but this time the chemical byproduct is calcium carbonate (lime) . . . or something like that), and pointing out deer, turkey, and rock climbers out the appropriate windows. I think I’m a natural already.

Unlike the other famous canyons in the area, Zion gives all visitors (not just those fit enough to climb to the bottom) the opportunity to see life within the canyon. It’s also a much smaller, narrower canyon that gets progressively narrower as you climb up alongside the Virgin River. At the end of the road, folks can continue on up the canyon on foot. In fact, there is a 16 mile hike from the last shuttle stop, up the beautiful Virgin River. The river gets progressively narrower, until trekkers must carry on in the river itself.

Paul was still feeling a little ill during our stay here so we weren’t able to do the whole 16 miles upstream, but I went about 2 ½ miles down the Narrows on my own, the last half mile in knee to thigh deep water. What a cool adventure that must be to go the whole distance, spending the night with the mountain lions, and then lazily floating down again with your floatie toys. I’ve added it to my “Things I want to do before I die” list. In Zion, you can also see the canyon on horse-back, from your bicycle, while tubing down the river, or dangling from a harness high up the canyon walls. All fun if you ask me!

Bryce Canyon: I wasn’t as immediately awed by Bryce as by Zion. I think the difference is that most tourists only see Bryce (and the Grand Canyon, for that matter) from the perspective of looking down from the rim of the canyon at designated viewpoints with hundreds of other tourists sporting their digital cameras. And I ain’t pulling the “better-than” card; Paul and I were just like all the others, snapping picture after picture of all the strange rock spires (AKA "hoodoos") that Bryce Canyon is famous for. But after a half a dozen viewpoints I was bored and ready to hit the road.

Thankfully, Paul and I decided to do a couple of hikes first. I did a section of the Rim Trail which took me away from the crowds and gave me the time to let these hoodoo thingies work their magic. It was so beautiful to see the different ways the light played off the rock formations as the sun moved across the sky (without having to jockey for the best camera angle).

Even better, was Paul's and my hike down into the canyon and alongside all the crazy, creepy hoodoos. They’re huge and each one so different, and you just can’t appreciate their full hoodooness from the rim. So if you’re planning on going to Bryce, I don’t care if you do it on top of a mule or on your own two feet, just get yourself down into the canyon. You’ll be glad you did.

The Grand Canyon: We visited both the South Rim (the one all the tourists usually visit) and the North Rim (the much less crowded and more secluded side), and y’know what? This indeed is a big canyon, a grand canyon even. Trouble was, I found myself staring out at its vastness and feeling utterly unimpressed (Paul thought I was being a snob). But, it was that Bryce Canyon complex all over again. I just couldn’t sink my teeth into it and really appreciate it all. I felt like I was just staring at a postcard or TV image of the mighty Grand Canyon and well, we drove a heck of a lot of miles to do what I could do comfortably from my couch at home (if I had a home anyway, but that’s another matter).

Recognizing the symptoms of National Park Fatigue Syndrome, Paul and I quickly prepared ourselves for the remedy—that’s right, hiking down that bloody thing. It’s much too big and way too hot to hike all the way to the bottom and back in a day as all the alarming signs at the trailheads warned us (not that we are stupid or fit enough to try it anyway).

But, we did hike a couple of miles down both rims and were able to get a taste for what it could be like to see the canyon from the bottom. And let me just mention here that the miles closest to the top are easily the steepest due to the parabolic shape of a canyon and all. In fact, we dropped over a thousand feet in a little more than a mile on one side. That’s a lot. Putting in a good couple of hours of strenuous climbing and knowing that you’ve hardly scratched the surface of the depths of the canyon, puts everything a little more into perspective. I was dumbstruck and eating lots of crow. Paul and I would like to get a permit to hike from rim to rim someday. Rafting down it would also be pure joy. Any joiners?

Also, as a little bonus of our climb down the South Rim on the Bright Angel Trail, we came across a particularly precocious trio of the ever elusive Big Horn Sheep. Paul was playing National Geographic photographer and nearly got himself butted off the cliff face by one of these guys. And I kept nagging him to back the heck up, dreading the idea of having to communicate to our family about Paul’s tragic Big Horn Sheep accident. But the pictures did turn out nicely.

From the Grand Canyon we headed south through Arizona stopping along the way to take in a few sights. We window shopped in Flagstaff, got our kicks driving down Route 66, hiked around cliff dwellings of the Sinagua Indians in central Arizona, and oohed and aahed at the pretty red rocks in Sedona.

We also spent a night in Tucson, admiring all the old Spanish architecture and pretty tiled bus stops and took a trip out to the Saguaro National Park. It would have been fun to trek around the desert, exploring all the unique fauna and discovering gila monsters hiding behind rocks, but it was hot as hell. Instead, we took the easy route and strolled around the little cactus garden in the car park.

The drive east to El Paso felt endless. The road just seemed to go and go. The only thing that kept us alert were the spastic thunder and dust storms that literally seemed to morph out of nowhere. There were these hilarious (and quite philosophical) road signs along the Interstate in New Mexico that read “Beware. Dust storms may exist.” And boy, did they.

So now we’re ready to go hook-up with Tyrone (if he ever calls us back) and say good-bye to our fearless little road warrior who incidentally clocked over 10,000 miles on this last little hoorah. What a trooper. I think we need something to commemorate our little darlin’. Perhaps a limerick.

There was a car named Su
With just enough room for two.
She drove cross the land
Kicking up sand
Without her, what will we do?

Okay, so maybe I’m not so great with limericks. Maybe you can do better. I know, let’s have a contest! Send in your submissions. Winner gets a prize.

Next time we write, we’ll be in Mexico. Until then, better polish up on your Spanish.

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Photos

Sending home the camping gear
. . . and getting stoked for Mexico!!!!

Pretty little falls at the Emerald Pools at Zion
Note: I fell really hard on my tush just seconds after taking this picture. It hurt!

Comments

[Maria]

casey, love reading about your travels...so exciting.....have fun in mexico, wave to dan's relatives, wink wink :)

[Buffy]

oy
BOY - awesome photies and even better narration. How was dat Rattler.....yuk! Peter Matera is playing for Armadale- enjoy the Tequila down south...........g'day to the hombres!

[jeremy grithiffs]

good pics lots of writting have fun