A day of many stops.

We had hoped for the clouds to clear this morning, as the Ranger at the Visitor's Centre had said, We wanted them to open up and sunbeams to spill forth, lighting up the layers of colour of the Grand Canyon, making them glow more brilliantly than any photograph could portray. Sadly, it was not to be, as our drive up route 64 into the park finished in the fog, and the area around the Visitor's Centre was just as grey and unimpressive as it had been yesterday. I guess our one chance of great views happened on our hike of the South Kaibab Trail, and we can count ourselves lucky that we got those vistas - after all, some people only walked the pathways around the Visitor's Centre. So instead, we grabbed a coffee, and began the drive down to lower, warmer altitudes. 

The drive through the rest of the park runs along the end of the Southern Rim of the Canyon, and is dotted with turn-offs and scenic viewpoints. As we drove, we planned to stop along the way to catch the views, but with the clouds...and then we saw it. Parting in the clouds, just a little, but enough to cast beams of light down on parts of the canyon, enough for us to see, and it was glorious. As beautiful as the views were yesterday, these were equally breathtaking, in a sort of sneaky, I wasn't supposed to get another chance at this kind of way. We stopped first at Moran Point, and then again at Navajo Point, taking a moment to breath in the cold air and admire the magnificence of the canyon before us. Again, it just proves that going the extra mile, driving an extra 2 minutes, rewarded us with views that we would have not had otherwise. 

We stopped just before exiting the park at the Desert Tower Lookout, though were trapped again within the clouds and wind, but got a chance to admire the beauty of the structure build to blend into its surrounding, to look like it have been there forever. It was build with that image in mind, but also designed to incorporate many local designs and art of the native tribes in the area, and those aspects have been preserved up to today inside the building. Though my camera battery was dying at just the wrong time, I managed to squeeze out enough juice to capture the beauty of the art inside the 4 stories of the Lookout Tower. And given it's position at the opposite end of the part, the place was relatively empty until just after lunch, and then we decided to take refuge from the wind in the campervan and have some sandwiches.

We continue this pattern once outside of the park, stopping at any pull-off  labeled "scenic look-out". One stop rewards us with a nice little hike to a magnificent viewpoint, though blasts us with 50 mph winds at the same time. It seemed like an easy hike without the added level of difficulty - even the vendors in the parking lot deemed it too much wind to contend with and were packing up their wares for the day! A second stop was not for a view, but a snack, freshly cooked fry bread, served piping hot and topped with honey and cinnamon. It was a simple treat, but oh-so-delicious. 

Mario at the scenic viewpoint	Getting blasted by the crazy wind!
	Roadside Fry Bread

We joked along the route that the warning signs along the road, listing off snakes, scorpions and other dangerous reptiles, held little weight today - not because of the cold but because of the danger of them simply blowing away. Then we imagined the sky filled with flying deadly reptiles, and much laughter ensued. So did Mario's addition of cow noises to a popular Diana Ross song, but that's a story for another time.

We stopped at the viewpoint for Horseshoe Bend, and area where the canyon runs deep, and the Colorado river curls around it so tightly that it almost connects with itself in the process. It is phenomenal to see, and to scale the diagonal layers of eroded rock that line the edge on the canyon. The sand is deep red, but in the canyon, we can see a multitude of colours, layer upon layer of rock, and further still, the green of vegetation above the teal of the river. Add in sun, and I can only imagine how spectacular the view must be here.

We stopped at Walmart again, because it is New Year's Eve, and we should probably highlight the day with something a little more special than clean water and chili for dinner. When probed for ideas, Mario quoted a popular Loto-Quebec commercial, asking for "Shrimps and Scallops". Immediately my brain started working on this problem. Fast-forward to tonight, and I find that the seafood section in Page, AZ is about the size of a closet, so shrimps and scallops are looking unlikely. I do find a discount box of frozen shrimps scampi, with butter and garlic and wine in it, and some of that fake crap meat we all love, and suddenly the wheels are turning. I make us a rich and creamy seafood chowder, which we enjoy with the bottle of Mumm Napa Brut we have been hauling in the fridge since Los Angeles, while watching the ball drop in NYC via Youtube. 

And our final stop, where we enjoy all this deliciousness, the Beehive campground, a basic camping in the Glen Canyon National Recreational Area just west of Page, Arizona. Quiet, simple, with picnic tables and likely beautiful views of the surrounding canyon, and with a great price tag, too. We hunker down for the night and listen to the distant sound of fireworks, though they are hidden behind the mountains, down in the city. But we feel the excitement, because in just a little while, we, too, will be celebrating the coming of a new year, and with it, the promise of more amazing adventures. Happy New Year, everyone.

Losing the Grand Canyon

Spending the night at the Love's Travel Centre was one of the better decisions we have made this trip. But I think that's how it goes when you are #vanlife-ing. You make very loose plans and hope that everything goes well, but you can't always account for closures, holidays, traffic, weather, etc. You find yourself in this state of zen, where you have to be okay with every eventuality, and that you might have to opt for Plan B, or C, or even F. For someone like me who likes structure and organization, who is visibly disappointed when plans get changed, it has been a lesson in letting go and letting things happen on their own instead. You'll have to ask Mario how I am doing this trip, but in my mind, I think I am getting better. I am still happy to have a pretty concrete general plan, but other than knowing in which location we would end our day, the rest is pretty fluid, and I am okay with that. 

So with last night's snow storm and slushy roads, camping in the parking lot of a truck stop turned out to be the winning option, especially when the alternative was possibly getting stuck in the soft red mud on a dirt forest road, with the local Sherriff having to come dig us out(which we did see happening to someone else while scouting out said forest road for ourselves). An unforeseen but very welcome perk? A 24-hour convenience store with washrooms, and showers at the truck stop - for a small fee. And when you have been showering in what can best be described as a closet, a long, hot, endless shower to get warm before bed feels like the best thing in the world.

This morning's plan after a bowl of hot oatmeal in the truck stop's parking lot? Hit the road, with our goal being a hike into the Grand Canyon. The sun was poking it head through the clouds here in Williams, Arizona, slowly melting away the clouds, and with them, the snow that covered the ground. It was going to be a beautiful day. Off we went, up the highway leading into the National Park, but we were also climbing in elevation. With every mile we drove, we climbed, and soon the snow cover was back, and soon the clouds returned, and then we were driving through a winter wonderland, and all around us was a dense, white fog. I bet you can image what comes next.

Where is it???

We arrive at the Visitor's Centre for Grand Canyon National Park, along with hundreds of other day-trippers, head out to Mather's Point for our first breathtaking views of the canyon and...nothing. The Grand Canyon is gone, hidden away underneath all that dense white fog brought in with the storm last night. And the only thing we can do is laugh. Of course the one day we are here, the one day ANY of these people are here for their once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Grand Canyon, there is fog. We hear the reactions of disappointment all around us, and some of laughter like us, and decide not to let it get us down too much, because we have other plans.

Back at the campervan, we head down Desert View road, along the South Rim of the Canyon, and find a spot to park. We make some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, pack some dates and trail mix, lace up our hiking boots. We aim for the trailhead of the South Kaibab Trail, because you can't possibly come to the Grand Canyon without hiking down into it! The important thing to note, and one that was reinforced at the Visitor's Centre: "What goes IN, must come back OUT". In other words, the trail descends into the canyon, and steeply at that, along a whole series of switchbacks. It may seem like an easy trail, but we have to take into account that for every step we take down, we will inevitably have to take back up all those steep hills and switchbacks. 

Thankfully, we prepared for this before leaving the campervan, before flying out to California, even before leaving Montreal. We brought crampons and hiking sticks. With the snowfall last night, the trail was coated with a generous layers of packed snow and slush, making the trek otherwise very difficult - we watch as group after group of over-confident and under prepared tourists attempt to slip-slide their way down the slopes. We comment under our breath at their short-sightedness - they will have a much harder time making their way back up. But the draw of the canyon is often too strong for some, and overshadows any awareness of the situation they are getting themselves into. Meanwhile, with our spike-adorned hiking boots, we stick to the snow like velcro, and the walk is easy. 

Somewhere past the initial set of switchbacks, I notice that we are now below the clouds and fog, and the view of the canyon begins to open up in front of us. Suddenly, I can't take two steps without pulling out my camera for another picture. Even though it is cloudy, the view is breathtaking - the Grand Canyon has revealed itself to us, sleeping away under a thick layer of clouds, hidden from the wintery weather. We can't get enough of it, continuing further and further down, around each bend, where a new view reveals itself. It's a good thing we set an alarm to warn us when to turn back and begin the climb out, because I think we both might have keep walking forever into the depths of the canyon, just to admire its beauty.

As expected, the walk back out was tougher, but not horribly so. I saw many a hiker, as we began our trek, exiting the canyon with looks of absolute misery on their faces. I vowed to myself that if nothing else, I didn't want to be that person. I might take twice as long to exit the canyon, but I wanted to have a smile on my face when I did. I took my time. I gave myself little goals of completing two lengths of the the switchbacks at a time before pausing for a moment to breath. I walked slowly, but constantly. And for all my worries, it took me just a little long to exit the canyon as it did to enter, and not double the time I had set in my mind as my likely time. And I was truly happy with my hike as well as my efforts. I think Mario could tell, too - he was just as happy.

Heading back out.

Once back at the van, we changed into more comfortable clothing - a perk of having your entire home with you at all times - and made the drive back down from the Grand Canyon into Williams. We decided to spend a second night camped out at Love's, since there was no chance the Forest roads would be any less muddy tonight. Plus, the draw of the hot shower after all that hiking was maybe a bit too strong. After a good bit of fresh air and physical activity, we'll both sleep well tonight - which is good, because we are going back for more tomorrow.

A letter to a travel day.

 Good morning Joshua Tree. I have loved spending time here, waking up to the mist hanging low over your mountains, the air rich with a floral honey-like scent coming from your yellow-coloured Creosote shrubs. I watch hummingbirds dart about as I drink coffee from my enamelware mug, the gravely ground crunching with my every step. I am sad to be leaving your warm hospitality, your rich ecosystem, your curious geology, but other discoveries await.

Hello U.S. Highway 62, winding your way around the National Park to Arizona. You offer many curious stops for me to ponder, and stretch my legs, in between long stretches of straight driving through the Mojave desert. First it is the Rice Desert Signpost, where many have left their mark before, and some have only destroyed. Signs point in all directions, but indicate personal destinations, so nothing of note to me. Next, it is the Rice Shoe Tree, the remains of a gas station from a bygone era, falling into ruin now, and hung with  old shoes like ornaments in a Christmas tree. I don't know if you are some sort of art installment, or just a collection of people's junk, but you certain beg to be contemplated, and of course added to. Fallen footwear are gleefully tossed in the air with hopes of landing successfully on the pile, or at least close to it. The wind catches errants flipflops and sends them soaring into the desert. There is much laughter.

Welcome to...

Thank you California for being such a fun place to explore, even though I really only saw a small part of your beauty. And hello Arizona, just on the other side of the Colorado river. Your rough roads, full of potholes and covered in tar lines, remind me so much of home that it is just as unenjoyable driving on them. 

Del Taco Tamales

Thanks for a decent lunch, Kingman, especially since I have seen so many Del Tacos shops since starting this journey, and finally got a chance to enjoy a meal. The tamales were filling and spicy, but I am sure that I could have had better elsewhere, likely from the man I saw on the side of the road in Yucca Valley, with his cardboard signs and cooler full of HOT TAMALES. I regret not stopping there first. And thank you for having a Walmart that had just the right replacement hose for the grey tank, so that now we can empty the campervan without spilling water all over the ground. I truly wish I knew what happened to the first hose, though suspect there was none to begin with. But your patrons scare me a little, trapped in this micro-cosm of America, up in the mountains and all alone, they are brut and scruffy and wear far too much camouflage clothing for a shopping trip. I happily leave you and move on.

Also thank you Arizona for being in a different time zone, so especially on a long travel day, the time will seem to go by even more quickly. I probably didn't need the help.

I enjoyed the moments I got to spend traveling the length of you, historic Route 66, however small it was. Your old-time towns, weather-beaten signs for sights that no longer exist, your collection of gas stations and antique cars and photo opportunities that I cruised by unawares. I am sorry that you have become obsolete, having been eaten up in place by the Interstate 40. I wish more people appreciated your value and beauty, and your historically relevance. Plus, you led me to coffee, and that is never a bad thing.

Burma Shave road signs

Thank you Burma Shave, whoever or whatever you are, for being a moment of entertainment every 20 miles, with your series of red signs and questionable sayings. I am still confused as to what you are advertizing, but it was certainly eye-catching and made the drive pass more quickly.

"Don't lose your head

To save a minute.

You need your head

Your brains are in it."

SNOW?!

Hey Mother Nature, I know what you are trying to do, and I am not falling for it. It's nice of you to want to make me feel less homesick by throwing down some heavy wet snow, but I really could do without the added challenge to the drive. My sleeping options are now severely limited, since the BLM forest roads will be muddy and hidden under a coat of white, and impossible to get out of tomorrow. I am now faced with a decision on what to do next, and how far to continue driving in this storm. It's a good thing I am used to the cold and snow, at least that is not a factor. 

Love's Travel Stop, I think I love you. Not only are you a bright yellow beacon in the darkening evening and continuing snow, with your 24-hour service and overnight parking, but your 16-dollar HOT showers are cheaper than a night at any campground, and also pure bliss. They warm me up, they clean me up, they let me do some much-needed laundry, and your "shower attendants" are funny, too. Your watered-down hot chocolate is not very appetizing, however, so points off for that mess.

And powdered mashed potatoes - need I remind you of your awesomeness? So creamy and delicious, but a veritable cameleon in the kitchen, constituting the base to a hot and delicious bowl of potato chowder. Paired with corn, and garnished with bacon and cheddar and green onions, you are the instant meal I never knew I needed in my life. I will forever make a place for you in my camping kitchen.

Tomorrow, I attempt to complete the journey to the Grand Canyon, hopefully leaving the snow behind, but I will not hesitate to run back here - after all, the showers are amazing.