Monday 4 August 2014

From the desert to the ocean...

We were in a new state but the landscape remained quite similar - dry, dusty and filled with rocks. Naturally as the son of geologists I was quite happy with this state of affairs but Kate was becoming less and less impressed. Fortunately our first stop in Utah was the beautiful Zion National Park - a place that had seared itself on my memory from my first visit 15 years ago with TrekAmerica as a fresh-faced recent graduate. It wasn't quite as amazing as I remembered it, but the huge cliffs and jutting peaks were still impressive. It was baking hot, of course, so I set out to remake my climb up to Angel's Landing as early as possible - not quite Grand Canyon early, but no lie-in. It was just me doing the climb because I had described the vertigo-inducing scramble along the highly-exposed knife edge ridge to the summit, clinging to chains to avoid plunging down into the canyon below, and for some reason Kate wasn't up for it. The scramble wasn't quite as I remembered it either - it was way worse, with many more daunting sections to work my way across. Still, I wasn't going to let my 22-year old self get the better of me, and I made it up (and down) in pretty good time. Unfortunately the worst difference from back then was that, far from being a blissfully peaceful viewpoint, there was a bunch of teenage girls noisily jabbering on about anything and everything - fair enough in a mall food court, no so great in a spectacular natural setting. I resisted the urge to introduce them to BASE jumping and managed to find a spot almost out of earshot...

After Zion we visited Bryce Canyon - another revisit for me, but one with a sting in the tail. My original trip back then was largely inspired by a book on the national parks of the west, which had wonderful photos of the scenery to be found. Bryce Canyon was one of my favourites, and I'd been really keen to get my own photos once there - but it was heavily overcast when we were there, useless weather for good pictures, so I was anxious to remedy that this time. When we arrived at Bryce in the afternoon this time, the weather was... guess what... overcast. Thankfully for all concerned (including Kate, who would have had to put up with me being exceptionally grumpy) the next day dawned bright and sunny and I was able to snap away. The canyon is small, and busy, and if you've been looking at rock formations for the last couple of weeks you can be forgiven for not being too enthusiastic (Kate) but it was very satisfying for me!

From there we took Utah's "All American" State Road 12 towards Moab - one of the most scenic drives anywhere, winding though mountains, deserts, strange canyonlands and arid moonscapes. Understandably it's very popular with bikers - we'd seen increasing numbers of the Baby Boomer Harley Riders' Clubs - and sadly we also saw the aftermath of a couple of motorbike accidents too.

Once in Moab we took a much-needed chill-out day, before visiting another of my favourites - Arches National Park. Sadly once again it was less impressive this time around - I think there might be a lesson in there somewhere! Evidently I have become jaded with too much travel in epic scenery...

After Moab we drove into the Rocky Mountains proper, winding along the canyon of the Colorado River on a clever bit of civil engineering in the form of Interstate 70, before climbing up among the peaks of Vail and Aspen (still showing scraps of snow on their pistes) before descending again towards Denver. We actually skipped that particular mile-high city and detoured to Boulder instead - a great place, one of our favourite cities of all and somewhere we would definitely consider living! The liberal-leaning university student influence is everywhere, so the downtown area was skating around the edge of hipster overload, but it just manages to stay this side of disappearing up its own ironically-tattooed bottom. Leaving town was one of the rare occasions where we were actively reluctant to go!

From there we headed north, paralleling the mountains which, on this particular day, were cloaked in cloud, which soon became fog, making for an interesting driving experience! By this time I had clocked up about 3000 miles behind the wheel so I was definitely getting the hang of things - but that didn't mean other drivers were driving sensible for the conditions...

Once out of the mountains and on to the high plains of Wyoming things changed completely. We drove some incredible roads there - huge ribbons of tarmac stretching to the far horizon, with barely another vehicle to be seen in front or behind for long periods. We worked out that we saw about 12 cars in two hours of driving one particular stretch - and there was nothing more than the occasional isolated shack or nodding-donkey oil pump on either side.

It was quite a shock to arrive in Casper and be welcomed by a friend of Kate's father - that neither of us had met - as if we were family. This is the experience of the American West really... great stretches of emptiness punctuated by intense kindness from (almost) strangers. Even the petrol (sorry, 'gas') stations are more trusting here - instead of insisting you pre-pay inside or give your zip code (not much use to us!) like they do elsewhere.

We dipped briefly out of Wyoming to visit Mt Rushmore - well, you have to, really - which is a bizarre place. It's truly in the middle of nowhere (aka South Dakota, but not even a busy part of that empty state) and yet apparently it's the most-visited national park in the country. The multi-level parking structure is almost as heavily-engineered as the mountainside sculpture itself, and the fees are pretty monumental too. At the rather bombastic and overblown viewing plaza (well, it is the US of A) there was an ice-cream shop selling, amongst other things, 'replica' Thomas Jefferson ice cream... he had a recipe for the stuff, it seems, but with the shop having shortened his name to TJ on the menu, we decided he was probably Teej to his mates, A-Linc, The-Ro and, of course G-Dog Washizzleton completing the lineup on the rock face (in our defence it was a long drive to get there)

Back to Wyoming, it was time for the ranch! Kate had visited a few years back and spent a week with her own personal cowboy, and despite all the other locations that disappointed on return visits, this one did not. From the start we had a wonderful time there - we were appointed our own little cabin on the hill, in glorious isolation, which made Kate very happy! The ranch staff looked after us really well, and we would have had a pleasant week just staying there and entertaining ourselves, but with the horseriding on top it was fantastic.

I had been worried that I would be too inept on a horse to enjoy it much - I'd ridden a handful of times before (e.g. in Monument Valley) but in the style of a sack of spuds rather than a cowboy. I think the horses at the ranch deserve credit, but I discovered an unexpected natural ability to actually ride quite well. I was OK on my first horse, Jet, quite a big animal, but when I switched to the even bigger Apache after a couple of days it was a revelation. Not many guests choose to ride him because he's a hefty beast, and can be difficult to control, but we got on exceptionally well and I found myself able to manoeuvre him with the lightest of touches, weaving through trees and moving, like the cliche says, 'as one' when we needed to direct cattle. I called him my warhorse - you could definitely see him carrying an armoured knight into battle - and I even forgave him for standing on my foot on the last day. It's a shame there's no way to do riding like that in the UK - I'd love to do more.

After another reluctant departure we headed north again, to catch the corner of North Dakota and add to our state count (now at a healthy 23) and visit The-Ro's old stomping ground, Theodore Roosevelt National Park. One of the few fragments of proper wilderness left in the US, it was pleasingly uncrowded, and we were able to see wild horses and bison scattered across vistas of untrodden prairie and badlands stretching to the horizon.

From there it was westward - we crossed Montana over the span of a week, taking time to visit Glacier National Park right up on the Canadian border, back in the Rockies again. On the way there we discovered another very liveable university town in the form of Bozeman, which would have been great except for the stomach ache Kate got, presumably from the Thai meal we had for lunch. It gave her grief for a week, meaning she missed out on the second rodeo of our trip in Augusta. We'd seen a very small-scale local one in Hulett, Wyoming, next to the ranch, but this one was 'pro', and a good deal more impressive. I was mostly there to try to get some good photos, but I found myself enjoying the whole experience without having to pretend.
Once we got to Glacier it was a bit hazy, but the mountains were awesome, huge jagged peaks and vicious ridges, clad in pine forests and reflected in beautiful lakes. Allegedly there were bears lurking in there, so when I took another solo expedition - hiking this time - I was slightly on edge. They say one should talk or sing to each other (or oneself) so that bears can hear a human coming and stay clear. Evidently my self-composed verses explaining how any grizzly who tried to take me on would regret it (to the tune of 'Glory, Glory Hallelujah') did the job and they all ran away.

We couldn't stay long, so after a couple of days we were headed across the narrow part of Idaho (stopping only for a great meal at a brewpub - the west coast influence starting to make its presence felt) and into eastern Washington state. Most people who have an idea of what the state is like would mention rain - which is true enough for the coast - but inland it's as dry and dusty as Arizona, which it closely resembles. We visited the Grand Coulee Dam (on the 4th of July, no less) and it was very similar in scenery to the Glen Canyon dam at Page - bare rock walls, vast lakes and barely any vegetation. There was a bit of a festival going on at the base of the dam for the holiday, with plenty of eating going on - perhaps appropriately for the date, we found ourselves surrounded by the most obese population (on average) we had seen on the whole trip. Sure, we had seen the occasional grossly overweight individual, or couple, but they had not been in the majority. For some reason the crowd here were almost all fat, to some degree, and it made me look *good* - I was honestly in the slimmest 10%. The burgers and funnel cake may have had something to do with it - Kate and I had both heard of the stuff in stories to do with American fun fairs, but we'd never tried it. Turns out it's basically doughnut batter randomly drizzled into hot oil until it forms a large flat mass, which is then dredged in cinnamon sugar (and topped with cream and strawberries if you pig out, like we did). It's nice enough for a few bites but you find yourself finishing it out of a sense of duty and your body's primitive reaction to being fed sugary, greasy starch. We won't be having it again!

From there we were Seattle bound, with a brief visit to the peculiar town of Leavenworth, redecorated in the style of the Bavarian Alps as a last-ditch attempt to save their tourist industry. It worked, and the place is now filled with visitors, walking around amid cuckoo-clock chalet-style architecture. The most surprising thing was how committed the townspeople had been to the transformation - I was expecting a few facades down Main Street but virtually the whole town seemed to have been comprehensively converted.

Soon we were crossing the Cascades to head down into our first 'proper' city since New Orleans. It was quite a shock to be down at the feet of skyscrapers instead of mountains, surrounded by thousands of pedestrians instead of pine trees. We navigated our way through to find our Airbnb apartment... we had decided that we'd had enough of motel rooms that blended into one another, getting up in time to avoid missing a forgettable breakfast of toast, waffles, reconstituted scrambled eggs and dispenser coffee. We were also running very low on motivational power - it was the inevitable point at which burnout was setting in. It happens to everyone when they travel for a protracted period, and the only answer is to find somewhere you are comfortable, where you can relax and stay put for a while. Using Airbnb meant we could stay in a real apartment in downtown Seattle, shop for and cook our own food (bliss!), sleep late, unpack and not have to repack the next day, watch TV and generally unwind. We did explore Seattle for two or three of the ten perfect sunny days we were there (sunny? in Seattle? yes!), but mostly we stayed in, watched the Tour de France and the World Cup, read books, wrote our own stuff - and generally lived normally instead of on the conveyor belt. It was a much-needed break, and allowed us to recharge for the next section - Canada!

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