On the Road

Approaching Cliff Dwellings, Arizona, from the west.

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Pardon any rambling thoughts or grammar errors. This is a mostly-first draft. I've been doing a lot of driving and working. This is the best I can give this travel segment.

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The large cliff face to my left radiates heat in the mid-afternoon Arizona sun. I drive east toward the Colorado River crossing at Navajo Bridge. "The east end of the canyon," I announce to anyone who's listening and slow down so they can take pictures of the bridge. At this point, it's a little over two hours back to the south rim where I can drop off passengers.

Today, there's only six riding in the back. Three couples. The two younger couples sitting in the middle of the van lean into each other, each couple sharing a single screen and talking quietly. The other two in the way back are older. Gen Xers. They've made a space between themselves on the long bench in the back. He's focused on a magazine curled in his fingertips, and she's leaning against the wall, feet propped on the bench.

In Marble Canyon, I look at the dash temperature: 109-degrees. Hot. Hot. Hot. Muy caliente! Call it quits. Wrap it up. I'm done here.

The problem is...I've still got until next Tuesday.

I gave BossMan this date about a week ago, but I need to be done sooner.

My legs and back hurt. I think it's from PSC, perpetual sitting cramps. My love affair with truck driving is over. It's not as glamorous as I once believed. While driving the shuttle van 450 miles a day is not the same as a semi, the concept is the same. Sitting. Driving.

How can I quit sooner? BossMan made me ScheduleLady, so while I driving, I think about how to rework the schedule. I'd already made the schedule based on passenger load and available drivers for the month of June. Since I haven't released next week's schedule yet, maybe there's a way to work myself off of it.

That night I look at the schedule. I also look at weather maps and projections. Monday looks good. It is only supposed to be in the 90s. The Godspeed has no air conditioning (vehicle or house). I'll need to go at night when it's cooler and get to elevation quickly.

Before taking off, I'll need to make sure the Godspeed is in good working condition and that I have batteries for my auxiliary flashers. Since I have no hazard lights, I use two flashing triangle lights. Each side of the triangle is probably 3" or 4". The button offers three settings: orange and white bright LED all on, only bright white, or orange-triangle flash. While driving at night, I like to keep them in flash-mode. They sit on my back window ledge, perfectly held in by the window frame. It's like they were meant to be...since the actual hazard lights are not meant to be.

What happened to your vehicle hazard lights? Well...they never worked. The blinkers didn't work either, but when I had a new transmission installed in 2018, the transmission guy hooked up two wires, and...voila!...suddenly, I have blinkers. I asked him about the hazard lights, and he was like, "Lady, I'm a transmission guy, not an electrical specialist!" I've had other mechanics since look for the mysterious hazard-light disconnect, but no one's been able to figure it out, hence the little flashy triangles. That being said, I do have an idea for fixing the hazard lights, but that will be for when I have some extra time and money. Maybe in Havasu. Maybe this next winter season.

So, I find out that Monday will offer a little break in the heat. I could finagle the schedule and make it look like I'm a "team player" and will take a standby position on Monday and Tuesday. But...nah! There's no sense in dragging this out any longer. I've got to get to Missouri and then back to Havasu. I've got big things coming up! And I must beat this heat! So, I text all the driver's schedules with the note that my last day is Sunday.

Overcast

For much of Sunday, clouds fill the northern Arizona sky. With no promise of rain, the flat grey clouds just feel oppressive. The earth is warm, I can feel it through my feet and in the air. The dashboard temperature shows 99-degrees in Marble Canyon.

I have to make my break tonight...after work and grading. On Sunday nights, every paper from the previous week must be graded. Despite getting at the grading after work, I still have about twelve papers left...and these are important ones that impact the final project. Each one needs close attention.

I'm tired just thinking about it.

At my back, I feel the pressure. North, north, north...out of this heat.

My biggest fear is that I'll get trapped in Marble Canyon or Page with a busted engine. If that happens, I'm done for. I don't know anyone in either of those places, and it's a long drive for anyone else. I just have to put it all in Jesus' hands and trust the Lord to see me through this.

Climbing the hill up through the gap near Gap-bodaway, heading toward Page.

At the end of the day, I do the hustle-butt as I do a quick clean of the van, wipe down the front windows, and lock up for the last time. After that, I'm on the road...to the parking lot at the south rim of the canyon where I finish grading papers.

As I finish grading the last paper, the clouds break to the west, revealing an orange sun, low on the horizon. If this was a movie, the ending credits would roll. Done for the week, I have nothing left to do for work. My time is now my own.

I head east to Cameron where I fill the tank. Surprisingly, there's no vapor lock, and the tank fills.

At Gap, I make the impulsive decision to head up the Navajo road toward Page because it has the easiest grades.

Off of the lower desert floor, the Godspeed runs well at 55 mph. This is a pleasant surprise, so I determine to drive as far as I can reasonably stay awake.

This lands me at the dirt parking lot at the Paria Townsite in southern Utah at 1:30 on Monday morning. At this point, I've been up for almost 22 hours. I stumble to the back of the RV, lay down, and sleep solidly.

The next morning I pass through Kanab and then head north toward Escalante where I stay in the RV at my friend's house and pack the minivan I have stored there with everything I'll need through October when I return for the RV.

Highway 12, Utah.

Hot Havasu

On Tuesday morning, I drive down to Lake Havasu City to get Buena.

She is still in false-pregnancy mode and has been snapping at Cowboy. (He took one of the stuffed toys she thought was her baby, so now she guards the door and won't let him in the house.)

Havasu is hot, but it feels like home.

Frank is in the driveway. We talk about the heat.

Brenda lets Buena outside. She wags her tail and jumps around me. Then, she runs toward the minivan. I let her climb inside and keep the engine and AC running while I go in to see Brenda and Merry.

They've cleared a space for me in the spare bedroom, which is where I'll be staying when I return in July for my new teaching job. For now, I just store the stuff I brought from the RV in the room and unpack what I'll need for the night.

For a short minute, Brenda and I discuss driving down to Mexico. She needs to go for dental work, and I wanted to pick up Mexican honey and maybe get some eyeglasses, but she's busy working on her pool. "There was a tear in the liner," she says and shows me the new liner.

She and Frank work in the heat to install the new liner, while I finish unloading the minivan.

On Wednesday morning, I leave Lake Havasu City.

My Mini-Honeymoon Vacation

I know that the roads I drive between Havasu and my next stop, Buena Vista, will be some of the most beautiful roads I drive, so I want to make it good. Although I'm still working online, my time is my own for this leg of the journey.

Despite that, the map reveals the most sensible route to Buena Vista, which is Interstate 40 to Interstate 25 and then north from Santa Fe.

But I have something to drop off for a friend in Grand Junction, so I head north from Flagstaff, back toward Cameron, and then east toward Tuba City and Kayenta. This gives me options. I can either head north from Kayenta toward Moab and then on to Grand Junction, or I can head east toward Cortez and up through some squiggly backroads to Grand Junction.

As the late afternoon sun hit the red rocks near Kayenta, my eyes and brain become sleepy. I really don't want to be driving, but in this rock and sand world, there's no shade trees under which I can park.

I think about what's near up in Bluff and Blanding. When I worked at the Prospector Inn in Escalante, we would get calls from guests trying to cancel their reservation...from the Prospector Inn in Blanding. Both hotels are independently owned. They both just happen to be in southern Utah and have similar names. Escalante has the Prospector Inn, and Blanding has the Prospector Motor Lodge. I think about staying there...just because.

In the other direction is Mexican Hat and that romantic little hotel next to the San Juan River. The first time I went through Mexican Hat back in 2017, I saw the little hotel and thought, What a romantic little spot! This is where I'm going to have my honeymoon! I didn't have any prospects of a husband, but that's okay. I know where I want to have my honeymoon.

Unless I do that honeymoon now. A honeymoon to me as a respite for all the shuttle driving, all the standing on my feet at the health food store before that, and all the paper grading from the semester up in northern Colorado. Since last August, I've been working 50- to 70- hour weeks. It was time for a little honeymoon vacation for myself...and Buena. I really want to get her washed. A hotel tub is a great place for that!

I quickly look up the San Juan Inn and find that they allow pets! It's like it's meant to be. Quickly, I book a room through hotels.com before I change my mind.

The San Jan River beside the San Juan Inn.

Stepping into the lobby/gift shop, I'm immediately enchanted with the quality and pricing on the gifts. It's not all the usual gift shop stuff. They have some unique pieces of jewelry and trinkets. I look at it until the gal walks in and hands me the keys to the room. As I take them, the key jingles against the brass key fob with the hotel name.

The room is clean, and the bed is comfortable. As much as I want to take a shower beneath the large rain-fall type of showerhead, I bathe Buena. The last time she had a bath was in the dirt up near the water spigot in Tusayan. That was about three weeks ago. If we are going to be living in the car together as we make our way to Missouri, then I want her clean.

After my shower, I answer a few student emails and post to the discussion board. I'm showing my "instructor presence," but my mind is a thousand miles away in dreamland. I can barely keep my eyes open.

As the sun goes down, I take Buena outside for one last walk before sleep. The heat from the day radiates up from the pavement and rocks. We make our way to the area overlooking the river. The air is a little cooler here.

With the day's fading light filtering through the motel's thick white sheer curtains and Buena near my feet on the bed, I close my eyes.

Hovenweep

The next morning, I'm up early, ready to get on the road.

I'm thinking of going through Grand Junction because I have something I need to give to my friend Lynda. To get there, I can go through Blanding, Monticello, Moab, and take the river road up to 70.

Only....

Somewhere around Bluff, I pass a sign for Hovenweep. Two weeks ago...on the shuttle...a passenger and I discussed this place, but neither of us could remember the name. We were in a spot without cell service, so the passenger couldn't use his phone to find the answer. It really bothered me that I couldn't remember, but the passenger seemed equally perturbed. "I'll remember it by the end of this ride," he said. Only...he didn't. I'd actually forgotten about that conversation...until passing the Hovenweep sign.

"Hovenweep it is," I tell Buena and make a right down the smaller two-lane road with faded paint and lines of tar to patch the cracks. Kintsugi for the roadway.

It's a lot of backroading to get to Hovenweep, but the payoff is worth it to see the structures, built in the 1200s, which is around the time the time the people were leaving Mesa Verde. It's interesting, really. Mesa Verde's mass migration occurred around the late 1200s or early 1300s. Cahokia (in Illinois) was also abandoned around 1300. When I visited a Mayan ruin down in Cancun, I'd learned that was also abandoned around 1300. In the meantime, you've got building going on at Hovenweep. Now, I'm not suggesting that all those settlements had some combined plan to vacate around 1300; however, I am suggesting something happened in the New World in the late 1200s and early 1300s. Or...maybe something happened in the late 1100s...maybe in the year 1111! While I've not seen any research to suggest anything, it's clear that something strange seems to have happened to prompt these settlements from disbanding in the same time frame. To that end, Hovenweep is interesting because rather than abandoning, they were building.

Hovenweep cliff dwellings.

Colorado

It's all backroads to Cortez. I'd forgotten how much I like this little corner of the world. Many of the residential houses out of Hovenweep appear to be Navajo as I spy hogan houses on many of the properties.

At the Ismay Trading Post, a crow catches my eye, and I pull over.

Ismay Trading Post

A little further down the road, a patriot gives out a distress signal. I stop to take a picture of the upside-down flag. After listening to talk radio for most of yesterday, I kinda feel the same way.

Southwestern Colorado

Cortez, Durango, Pagosa Springs, Wolf Creek Pass, Del Norte...

Again, my eyes droop heavy. I can barely keep them open, but I want to get as close to Buena Vista as possible. I have people to see there.

I pull over at the nature preserve south of Sasquatch...Saguache. With the gathering clouds, a cool wind blows through the half-open windows, and I crawl in the back for a 45-minute nap.

In Buena Vista, I eat at Quincy's because...Quincy's. It's a steak house, but it's not a regular steak house. What Quincy's does is serve filet mignon Sunday through Thursday nights and only charges a nominal price. With your steak, you get a small salad and a baked potato. On Friday's and Saturday's, Quincy's sells prime rib. If you want filet mignon on Friday, too bad. No can do.

With a meal in me, I'm feeling refreshed, so I head out to the camp spot.

Only...my secret little hideaway has been discovered, and RVs, trailers, and vans are parked all over Raspberry Gulch. Feeling crowded, I leave.

On a chance, I check out a place near the river that is usually overcrowded, but with everyone at Raspberry Gulch, maybe this other hideaway is free of crowds.

It takes about 20 minutes to drive there and another five minutes to remember the correct turn off. My eyes feel heavy with sleep, so my hope is for empty space, relatively free of other campers.

Moving slowly down the dirt road, the long empty spaces before the pine trees invite me to park.

So...I camp on the river in a legal camping spot.

The next morning, I check phone messages and learn that Ruby and Albert have moved to a senior home in Flagstaff. "I was just there!" I text to Ruby and then tell her I'll stop by on the return trip. In the meantime: "What about my rocks?" Ruby had been storing my buckets of rocks in her yard, and there were a few I wanted to take east, but now that she's gone and her house is in the process of selling, I want to get my rocks! She gives me permission to go into the yard and collect my rocks.

Most of my rocks have been identified as Leaverite, but I like these particular leaverites, so I gather up the ones I really want. The whole sorting process takes a little over an hour. When I'm satisfied I have all the best, I leave the rest.

Highway 50, east of Salida.

It's not even noon, and I head east through the canyon toward Canon City, but I get sleepy somewhere around Royal Gorge and pull into a busy rafting company lot to fall asleep for a bit.

I'm pretty sure I'm getting over a cold. That's why I've been so tired. I thought it was allergies from northern Arizona. It all started the week the aspen leaves unfurled at the north rim, so I guessed "aspen." But, it's still going on, so now I'm pointing the blame at that passenger who sat behind me, sniffling and coughing, on the van last week. I tried to keep my window open as much as possible for fresh air, but for part of the trip, the van was sealed up with AC running. Those germs circulated!

I sleep hard.

About an hour later, I'm back on the road. By the time I get to Colorado Springs, I determine to take the backcountry road--94--east toward Kansas.

Highway 94, Colorado

Outrunning the Storm

No more than an hour east of the front range, I watch a few tumbleweeds blow across the road. They're small, dry tumbleweeds, moving across the road from the south. The sky looks dark to the south, but it's hard to tell if it's from a storm or night coming on. Maybe it's a combination of both.

A little further down the road, the wind from the south shudders the minivan. I grip the wheel a little tighter, driving east across the high plains.

More tumbleweeds blow across the road. This time, the tumbleweeds move swiftly, crossing the road in a flash. Next, another plant--green--blows across the road, and I can still see the dirt on the roots of the plant.

What is this?

The sky to the south is dark, dark, dark.

The rain picks up, and more of these green plant-things are uprooted. They don't blow as swiftly across the road as the tumbleweeds.

At a major crossroad, I pull up to a stop sign. With no cars behind me, I check the weather app my phone and look for a local report.

Uh oh. Maybe I should head north. I've got to outrun this storm.

I also don't want to be on Interstate 70, but traveling on 70 is better than hail damage or getting into an accident, so I head north toward Limon. With the storm at my back, darkening the skies and pushing the van forward with wind gusts, I stay just ahead of the front. Soon the skies lighten, and I know I won't have any trouble with this storm, unless it pushes across Kansas this evening.

Highway 71, Colorado

At Limon, I get on 70 and make it about a hundred miles or so into Kansas. The storm stays well to the south. When night takes over the sky, I start observing the trees, watching for wind gusts. There's no sense in getting caught in a Kansas twister in a minivan in the middle of the night.

I pull over at a rest area and check the weather map for Hays. The night looks calm, so I crawl in the back and fall asleep.

The next morning, I drive, drive, drive, and arrive in St. Louis before dinner.

Final Thoughts

I really hoped for more adventure on this trip. More exploring. Interesting people. Unique food. Side roads to wonderland. Rockhounding.

Instead, I think being run down from all the driving at the canyon job and grading student papers has me exhausted. I'm going to relish being off work--somewhat--until I return to Havasu in late July.

I say "somewhat" because I'm still teaching online for two weeks. Then, I'll be off. I have personal projects and lesson planning to do, so I'll try to make a few updates from St. Louis, but this will be the last long post for a while!