April 13 – “Back in Texas”

Yes, we are back in Texas.  Chris matched a personal best record, driving about eight or so hours in one day.  That’s some youth camp-worthy driving, for sure.  And the bed and breakfast we managed to make it to?  Best ever.  And of course the fact that it came with grandchildren was a definite plus.  The proprietress even fixed us some fresh pancakes.  Amazing. 

 

Ok.  Ok.  But that sure sounds more exciting and vacation-like than, “We drove to Waco and spent the night with Josh and Christi.” 

 

After a relaxing morning of watching the kids finish up some homework, we all met up with Josh for lunch at Jason’s Deli.  It’s a favorite spot of theirs, and we have come to like it as well.  I particularly like their baked potato soup.  In the afternoon me and Chris and Christi and AnnaGrace took a leisurely walk up and down the street.  A nice old dude neighbor came out and gave each of us a breath mint.  Hmm.  Not sure how to take that.  At least they were individually wrapped.  Back at the house I played some baseball with AnnaGrace while the boys all played basketball.  Chris took pictures.  Imagine that.  We both managed to squeeze in a bit of a nap as well. 

 

The evening was all planned out.  We were going to divide and conquer with Josh and Christi and go to a basketball practice (Luke) and a soccer practice (Caleb).  Zak was going to a baseball game to meet his girlfriend (Or maybe that should be plural?).  However … a severe thunderstorm came through the town.  Warnings and all.  In fact there was even a tornado verified to have set down not that far south of here.  So all things outdoors were canceled.  That didn’t deter us, though.  We spent the evening watching America’s Funniest Home Videos.  Haven’t seen that since the last time we were up here. 

 

1 Peter 4:16 says, “However, if you suffer as a Christian, do not be ashamed, but praise God that you bear that name.”

 

Father, thank you for a safe place with family during the storms yesterday.  Guess there’s a spiritual application in there, too, isn’t there?  Amen.

April 12 – “Billy the Kid”

 

April 12 – “Billy the Kid”

 

We got started on our way out of New Mexico around 8 a.m.  That would be 9 a.m. Texas time.  I think.  Sorry.  Just trying to get oriented.

 

Chris put it into Glorieta mode (a.k.a. Driving to youth camp) when she sat behind the wheel.  She was pretty determined to get to Texas.

 

We did get distracted before we could get out of New Mexico, though.  For years we have driven through a little town called Fort Sumner.  Right in the middle of town is a building that purports to be all things Billy the Kid.  The town also claims to be the site of his death (Of course further down the road in Hico, Texas, we heard the same claims, and they have a similar museum, but it was closed when we went through there).  For years we have joked about that claim, but we have never taken the action to pull over and check it out.  Until yesterday.

 

We got the old people’s rate to get in.  Didn’t even ask for our ID.  Just four bucks each.  And the museum was way more than just Billy the Kid.  They did have a wing dedicated to him, but this was a full-blown museum of antique stuff –of all kinds.  From antique cars to horse-drawn hearses (complete with child-size coffins) to an entire room of nothing but saddles to a stuffed calf with eight legs.  That thing, by the way, should have been in a Ripley’s Believe It or Not museum.  They even had a section for old toys.  Chris found her first Barbie.  I found a glass case where they had captured and successfully interred six or eight of those creepy china-head dolls.  It was well worth the stop, even if it did keep us from Texas for another hour or so. 

 

Oh, and not to be outdone, Chris decided to take a little detour (Now, “detour” is different from “Shortcut.”  Shortcuts don’t necessarily have a specific purpose in mind.  Detours, however, are supposed to get you somewhere).  So where was the “somewhere”?  The grave of Billy the Kid a few miles outside of town in the local cemetery.  Well … why not?  You could walk right up and see the gravestone.  Couldn’t miss it.  It was locked up behind bars.  Literally.  Yep, thy had to build an actual jail cell over the gravestone and lock it to an iron casing with handcuffs.  Why?  Because it has been stolen two or three times over the years.  It was recovered each time.  Once it was in Granbury, Texas.  Another time it made it all the way to California.

 

We finally got back on the road and headed into Texas.  It took us a little while, but we finally located a Dairy Queen.  We are still trying to use up our retirement gift cards.  We actually had to go two miles off the main road to get to one.  The poor things are just dying out, I guess.  Oh, and they have been rebranded for a new generation … DQ.  Just DQ.  Chris had an ice cream cone.  I had a chocolate chip blizzard.  And we pressed on.

 

At some point along the way I may or may not have dozed off and on, but always ever so briefly.  The only thing that really kept both of us alert were the crazies on the road.  One time Chris was passing a car in a 75 mph zone.  Suddenly, he decided that he wanted to be in the passing lane as well.  He almost nailed us.  After she had accomplished a slick avoidance maneuver, Chris did something I have never seen her do before.  She honked at the errant driver.  I think the honk scared me more than the swerve.  The second event came when we were well into Texas.  She was tooling along and out of the blue cried out, “Oh, no!  A prairie dog!”  And the cry was accompanied by another swerving action.  That’s right.  One of those little critters was standing up on his hind legs right in the middle of the street.  And glancing out to the side of us we saw dozens of the doggies swarming the freeway median.  Weird.  But all’s well.  No prairie dogs were harmed in the production of this super-swerve.

 

Somewhere in west-central Texas where we finally had reliable cell service, we decided to listen to the Seaside Palm Sunday service saved on Facebook Live.  It is always good to see some familiar faces.

 

John 13:34 says, “A new command I give you: Love one another.  As I have loved you, so you must love one another.”

 

Father, thank you for getting us back to Texas.  It is good to be almost home.  We have a lot to do to get ready for our next trip.  Amen.

April 11 – “One with the Ant People”

It was back to a fairly nice room again.  Plenty of space to turn around without bumping into something (ouch) or each other (not so bad).  The problem in that hotel, though, was the elevator.  The door was not quite as wide as the door to the room.  And their luggage cart was the elite model – the largest one we have had yet.  The cart barely fit, and we had to stand in single file.  Strange.  Oh, and this was the second place that we had to go clear down to the first floor to the only ice machine.  Not so convenient.  But hey … every little thing adds to the adventure, right?

 

On our way to our next stop, we were stopped by a soldier at the vehicle checkpoint of the American National Laboratory.  That’s where they originally developed the atomic bomb.  I tried several times to get a picture of their sign, but “something” always kept getting in the way.  Suspicious, if you ask me.  What manner of research could be going on in there, anyway?  We aren’t that far from Roswell, you know.  It is kind like the trouble I have had getting a picture of one of the Smokey Bear signs in the numerous National Forests we have been through.  What a surprise it was when Chris pointed out – up there in the middle of pollen-producing country – a little Smokey Bear, just dying to join us.  He’s had severe allergies all his life.  Stunted his growth dramatically.  It was our duty to rescue him, right?

 

And speaking of critters and names, they have been coming in for that little rabbit-ish pika critter.  Josiah was first to respond with Wimpy the Womp Rat.  Certainly has a ring to it, even if it’s not really a rat – no tail and all.  Here’s a few others:

Chu (oh, I get it.  Pika-Chu.  It’s like you’re sneezing, right?). 

Elite (Like pica vs. elite font sizes.  A choice designed to be confusing.  I like it).

Mr. Pickles (Kind of random.  But he does kind of look like a big pickle).

Dilly (See what she did there?  Pika-Dilly.  Cuteness overload).

I guess we’ll go with … The Reverend Mister Pika Chu Dilly Elite Pickles, nicknamed Wimpy, but only by all his friends who know him well.

 

Once our army friend let us through, it didn’t take us long to pull into the Bandelier National something or other.  All those names run together for me now.  It was simply straight back up the mountain we just came down from.  Once there we took off on the big hike they had set up to where some Anasazi Indians had built some ant people dwellings.  This time we got to crawl up a ladder and actually into the ruins.  Those ant people couldn’t have spent much time in their dwellings.  They were nice and cool and all, but way too tiny for much stuff.  Kind of called to mind a certain hotel room.  We did have a professional photographer offer to do a photo shoot for us at one of the ladders.  Well, she said she wasn’t a pro, and she never mentioned a whole shoot, but I ended up with 13 pictures of us by the time she finished.  People on vacation are great.

 

Speaking of people on vacation, we met a family from New York.  They were doing the exact same type of trip we were with one major exception.  They had rented a travel trailer.  Their plan was to end up in Salt Lake or Las Vegas or somewhere, turn in the trailer, and fly home.  We swapped National Park stories for a long time before continuing our respective hikes. 

 

The hike ended back at the visitor’s center.  Of course, we had already picked up our stamp, but we were getting hungry.  To our surprise, they had a little café on the premises.  Chris had a grilled cheese sandwich.  I had an elk burger cheeseburger with grilled onions.  First for me - elk.  The meat was really lean.  Good stuff.

 

From there we headed back down the mountain to a place about two blocks from our hotel – The Manhattan Project National Monument.  It designated the site of the original lab that developed “a way to end World War II.”  Never mentioned “atom bomb.”  Does the name sound familiar?  It should.  They just moved up on the mountain.  Now they are officially the American National Laboratory – same outfit with the soldier that stopped us earlier.  Come to find out, the hotel we had just stayed at was on the grounds of the original project site.  So, I’m pretty sure we have been exposed to residual radiation.  No telling what super-powers will begin to manifest as time goes on.  There was not much to this place.  Chris got a stamp at the visitor center, though.  Well, one of three.  See, this stuff is so top secret that even the stamps have been divided into three different ones.  To complete the set, we have to travel to somewhere in Washington State and somewhere in Tennessee.  Tricky.  Their hike was basically taking a walk through downtown Los Alamos.  We just did a little bit of it.  I for one didn’t want to get that close to the government, especially after being stopped twice where I had to hand over my driver’s license (when I wasn’t even driving), and then being exposed to radiation and all. 

 

So we popped back into the car and headed for Pecos National Historical Park near (surprise!) Pecos, New Mexico.  Actually, the real surprise is that it was right next to Glorieta.  Both of us are still wondering how we could go there for so many years and never realize there was a National Park right nearby.  It was a fairly simple site.  Some Pueblo ruins and the ruins of a Spanish mission church.  They had some kivas, too.  Difference was, these had been reconstructed, and you could crawl down the ladder into the underground chamber, just like ants into their anthill.  It was Sunday, so I prayed for the people who would be entering the kiva in the future.  And then on the hike, I preached a little to the trees.  Didn’t help.  I still have allergy difficulties.  Oh, and Chris and I took a selfie inside those old Spanish church ruins.  See?  We did go to church!

 

Philippians 1:3-4 says, “I thank my God every time I remember you.  In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy”

 

Father, thank you for the chances we have had to get a glimpse into the life and culture of people from long ago - and from far away (i.e. those folks from New York).  Amen.

 

April 10 – “To Cuba and beyond”

Well, that was the tiniest hotel room we have ever had, bar none.  The rolling luggage cart barely fit in the door.  We had to find a place for each item before unloading it.  I even had to crawl up on it a few times because there just wasn’t room.  As big and luxurious as the room was the previous night, this one was its opposite.  You know you are in a small room when the air conditioner comes on, and in two seconds the whole room in cool.  In four seconds, you need a sweater.  The hotel was being renovated, so at least two full floors were blocked off.  Our tiny room had a few of the finishing touches missing, like the clip to hang towels on the back of the bathroom door.  I guess once we got everything in its place, the room was passable enough, though.  We slept well, anyway.  Now to the next adventure.

 

First stop was, of course, another national monument.  This one was called Aztec Ruins.  They told us the ruins were in the Mayan style.  In New Mexico.  I’m still confused.  The volunteer teacher said the Mayans had a fully developed written language and a system of complex mathematics.  The people in this region apparently didn’t know how to sign their own name.  No written language whatsoever.  I asked him if perhaps some Mayans who flunked grammar and math dropped out of school and moved up here.  He didn’t seem too impressed with my theory.  But the ruins were pretty interesting.  And we got to walk around all up in them.  The doorways inside were about four feet tall, or even less.  I had to really scrunch up to get through.  Chris, not so much.  Score one for the short people.

 

Part of the experience was a lecture on how the early American Indians were really good astronomers.  The whole village was constructed with nods toward sunrises and sunsets, all things lunar, the equinoxes, the solstices, and all those other astronomy-type words.  They even knew how to read the stars.  Smart folks, especially for somebody who didn’t know how to write stuff down.

 

From that park we headed roughly east to see if we could drive over the nearby Navajo Dam road.  We were also looking for a place to grab some lunch.  Sadly, we didn’t find either.  I think we turned around just short of the dam.  But hey, when you’ve seen one dam, you’ve seen them all, right?

 

Oh, I haven’t yet mentioned that I’ve been sneezing and sniffling … a lot.  First it was the mounds and mounds of red dirt everywhere.  Now that we are back in tree country, there are thousands upon thousands of different types of pollen that have been finding their way into my nose.  Somebody please clear that stuff out of Galveston before we get back.

 

While we were driving around, I finally heard back from my different naming sources concerning the raven who joined us.  Sam from church suggested Ronnie.  Then Ezra, ever the keep-it-simple, scientist type, at first questioned whether or not the creature was actually a raven at all, but a penguin instead.  Once convinced by whatever scientific method his mom chose to convince him, he finally posited Ray.  Ray the Raven.  Both are kind of perfect, so why not both?  He’ll be Ronnie Ray the Raven.  Has a certain ring to it …

 

We continued our leisurely drive along the banks of the river before stopping in on Kathy White’s sister and brother-in-law’s winery in Blanco, New Mexico.  And by the way, we could tell immediately whose sister this was.  They look a lot alike.  We passed on the wine-tasting, but we stood riveted at attention as David and their son actually milled some lumber from a log.  Oh, and I did take the opportunity to seek to replicate the intricate maneuvers made world-famous by Jim on their travel blogs.  It’s the one where he sticks one foot out behind him and one arm out in front.  I think its some kind of yogi move or something.  So, I may or may not have substantially improved upon the position.  Word is, there have already been numerous accounts of yogi instructors the world over wanting my contact information … to ask me to just please stop.  We were invited to stay over night and enjoy the area, but we decided to keep moving.  Thanks for the hospitality, David and Marcia.

 

From the peace and quiet of the winery we headed out for Los Salamis.  Oops, sorry.  That was spell-check, I promise.  Los Alamos, and the two or three national sites around there.  That meant about three hours of driving that wilderness-y New Mexico terrain again.  Along the way I saw two elk grazing just outside of Cuba.  Wow.  Never thought I’d be saying those two words in the same sentence – elk and Cuba.  Nope.

 

We arrived at the next park area (which was way up in some other New Mexico mountains) about 45 minutes before closing time, so we didn’t have a lot of time for hikes.  In fact, I was just happy to race to the outdoor port-a-potties for a much-needed rest stop.  The only thing was, while inside the winds kicked up.  Think about it.  High winds.  Up in the mountains.  Me ensconced in a tiny toilet room.  The only thing I could think of was Dorothy Gale and her tornadic ride to Oz under somewhat similar circumstances (OK.  She wasn’t in a toilet box.  And the winds weren’t that high).  But from my perspective … yes, it felt like that.

 

Once I was safely back in Kansas, so to speak, we strolled around the area and down to the pond.  That stroll was actually through the middle of a massive prairie dog apartment complex.  We saw more than a few.  My favorite sighting, though was near the corrals.  As I rounded a bend, a small, furry creature was heading right toward me.  He put on the brakes in a hurry and scurried in the opposite direction.  What did I notice right away?  There was no tail on this otherwise tiny rabbit-like critter.  I found out that it was most likely one of the area’s more populous denizens, a Pica.  I thought that was a font size, but come to find out, it is also a little mountain rabbit-ish with no discernable tail.  And the best part of that whole experience?  I found his cousin hanging around the visitor center.  He was happy to join us after he heard us describing our much warmer climate to the ranger.  I will be sending his photo out this morning for naming.  Bring on the ideas.

 

We made it down the mountain and into Los Alamos for the evening.  It’s back up the mountain today for another park up there by nine, then back down here to the Manhattan Project visitor before they close at three.  And then …, further east.

 

Luke 19:38 says, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!  Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”

 

Father, thank you for the chance to meet David and Marcia, Jim and Kathy’s New Mexico family.  Bless them for the hospitality they showed us.  Be with them as they finish that building project.  Amen.

April 9 – “Peace Pipe”

We started off on our next day’s grand adventure by driving through another hundred miles or so of … nothingness.  Well, I mean … wilderness, maybe?  Not the tree-laden kind, though.  Just prairie-looking, hay-ish stuff.  But we did manage to catch some sights.  We saw a wild burro.  We saw some horses – not wild, we saw several hawks on the prowl.  Well, “on the fly” I guess would be the more accurate terminology.

 

Right before we turned onto the last road to our destination (At least we thought it would be the last road.  This, for those of you reading early in the morning, is a bit of dramatic foreshadowing), we caught a glimpse of what we were sure at the time was a white fox.  He darted across the street in front of us.  Then he stopped on the other side, turned and made eye contact with me.  Oh, I fumbled for the camera, but it was no use.  He ambled off into the underbrush.  We have since reconsidered our conclusion.  Not the white part.  There is no doubt about that.  But we later asked a Ranger about it – and Park Rangers see all and know all, of course.  She thought it was more likely a coyote.  A white coyote or an albino fox.  Never heard of either one.  And that leads to the obvious third possibility.  This creature was but another attempt at alien invasion that went terribly wrong … for the alien.  He simply chose the wrong body to inhabit, and got stuck living alone in the wilderness, giving tourists the occasional thrill-sighting. 

 

And then … short cut!  Only we didn’t know it at the start.  We were just dutifully following Siri’s instructions.  And they were leading us straight up a dirt mountain road full of ruts.  Top possible speed?  Maybe 12 mph.  This, my friends, was a Coon Dog Cemetery-worthy road, to be sure.  This road alternated between hard ruts and rocky natural-ness and plain old reddish dirt.  We thought about turning around several times, but the road was too narrow.  So narrow, in fact that we prayed we would not meet another car coming downhill.  So we determined … embrace the shortcut.  Onward!  Oh, we finally reached the top and pulled into the Park’s parking lot.  And there were numerous other vehicles there.  One big difference between theirs and ours, though.  Theirs were all clean as a whistle.  Ours was covered in that reddish dirt.  We had discovered a surprise from the Navajo, delivered through that ever-lovin’ prankster whose voice comes through our car speaker system – Siri George.  See, there was one other road into the park.  Paved perfectly from top to bottom.  “Hope you enjoyed your one hour, 10-mile shortcut experience!  Love, Siri George.”

 

Once we finally arrived, we grabbed Chris’ stamp, of course.  Then we did two hikes.  The first brought us to a viewing platform where, with the assistance of binoculars or the big zoom lens on our camera, we could see the site across the canyon where some more of those cliff dwellers dwelt (Or Ant-people, as Allen Dammeyer so adeptly identified their cousins who we saw on that other hill … somewhere).  We met a couple from Minnesota on their way back home.  We lent them our binoculars for a look at the ruins.  Nice folks, for Minnesotans (Just kidding, Gary Blessman). 

 

That hike, itself, was fairly easy, so we decided to chance the more strenuous one as well.  It was described by the signage as “steep.”  The hike down was pretty … er, steep … but it was downhill, so also pretty easy.  From the viewing platform we could see the big picture of the canyon from near the canyon floor.  Impressive.  That’s where we found the aforementioned Ranger who gave us her opinion about the alien white fox/coyote creature.  She was in the process of assessing the parts of the trail that needed repair.  Lots of repair.  Not encouraging. 

 

After that discussion, we started back up.  The return trip was … steep.  Really steep.  Steeper than we remembered going down.  It was reminiscent of our near-death hiking experience in Bryce Canyon.  Not as evil as Bryce, but it did its job, to be sure.  That is, if its job was to force us to stop numerous times on the way back up to allow heart rates to stabilize and lungs to refill with oxygen.  Oh, in case you were wondering … we made it.  No paramedic calls necessary. 

 

Whew.  Now, to top off the day, I had an extremely positive moment in the visitor center.  I finally found a raven.  I’ve been looking for one since we first set foot in Utah.  Don’t get me wrong.  They have been everywhere.  But this was the first one that got close enough to hear my proposal about joining us.  And he agreed on the spot.  Still pondering a name for that critter. 

 

Last night we went out for supper, intent on sampling some of the Aztec, New Mexico, local cuisine.  We located a café called … Aztec.  Quaint.  Can’t go wrong with the basics, I guess.  Chris read an online review that said, “Great place for locals, but not so much for travelers.”  Ah, a challenge.  After hearing that, there was no other place I wanted to go.  As we approached the front door, I saw on the ground what looked like the outside of a pen when you pull out the innards.  But that’s not what caught my eye.  Wired to the pen casing was a beautiful gold ring with several different-colored stones on it (I’m no good at identified those precious stones things.  Not so good at identifying colors, either.  Hence, “different-colored stones”).  It looked pretty expensive, so I picked it up and turned it in to the ladies inside.  Little did I know … (That’s more foreshadowing.  You guys more awake now?) …

 

Later, as we were deciding what to eat, the lady who owns the café approached us rather tentatively with … a wet paper towel.  She hastily explained that it had been soaked in the solution of sanitizer that she makes her employees use.  Then she continued, “What you brought in was someone’s … uh … peace pipe.  I’m so sorry.  Here, use this right now, and then you might want to also go in the bathroom and wash your hands.  I don’t know how strongly you feel about such things, but it will make me feel better.”  Chris agreed.  Strongly.  Needless to say, I washed my hands.  Sadly, I don’t suppose I’ll ever get to meet the owner of the … uh … “Peace Pipe.”

 

Psalms 24:10 says, “Who is he, the King of glory?  The Lord Almighty – he is the King of glory.”

 

Father, thank you for the impromptu lesson on Navajo “customs.”  And thanks for the concern the lady at the café showed to me.  Amen.

April 8 – “What time is it?”

What time is it around here, anyway?  I think we must have entered into time change Twilight Zone or at least have crossed the time change barrier (Is that anything like the sound barrier?).  Ever since we have been in Arizona, strange things have been happening with time.  My watch would automatically change to one time, but it wouldn’t match the clock in the hotel room.  Then, while in the car driving down to the river, the time on my watch would change, but the car would remain the same.  Then both would change to match the room clock again.  And that was just when we were in the same town.  Chris final found on google that the Navajo Indians decided to reject the decisions of the Arizona state legislature and to go on daylight savings time anyway.  So anytime you are on Navajo reservation land – DST.  Very confusing.

 

So … we left the hotel at 6:40.  Or maybe 7:40.  I don’t know.  But we headed for the Grand Canyon.  On the way I had to call the pharmacy back home to have them hold one of Chris’ med refills until we get back.  It’s great to know your pharmacist.

 

Oh!  I forgot to mention another bit of wildlife we saw at Zion.  A turkey.  Wild turkey.  Know what that said to me?  Guess we’ll have Thanksgiving dinner “when we all get to Zion.”

 

The road to the canyon was pretty sparse.  In fact, there were occasional signs that said, “Watch for Wildlife.”  Not sure if they were put up by the department of tourism or by whoever has to clean up roadkill.  Anyway, about the only thing we saw moving was a horse.  I think it was a wild horse.  It was grazing in the middle of nowhere.  And later we saw even more skinny-looking wild horses hanging out together. 

 

Just outside the canyon (by about 40 miles or so), we had to … wait.  There is front of us was … no, not some exotic form of wildlife … it was a one lane road.  Construction.  And it was one of those where a truck had to lead you, so we had to wait for the other side to get through.  It really didn’t take all that long.  But that one lane lasted about three miles.  And the road work?  Well, one guy was all by himself chopping grass on the side of the road at one point.  The later three guys were drizzling hot tar over road cracks. 

 

We finally made it to the Grand Canyon Visitor’s Center.  After our parking lot debacle at Zion, it was with fear and trepidation that we entered this parking lot.  But soon we were chuckling with glee.  One whole lot was completely empty.  And we ended up with a place in the closest lot to the center.  How’s that for good luck?

 

After a quick stop at the visitor center to grab that first stamp for Chris’ book (of course), we took off on our first big hike of the day.  We trekked the rim trail of the Grand Canyon.  It wasn’t that difficult, but it was long.  Two and a half miles long.  We got some great pictures of the Canyon, though.  Of course, they can never do justice to the real thing.  Oh, and we were accosted on the trail.  A tiny alien hidden inside the body of a terribly cute squirrel followed alongside us for several minutes before I finally stopped to see what he would do.  He stopped, too.  Then he turned toward me.  Then we made eye contact.  And that’s when he did it.  He reared up on his hind legs like Freddy wanting a treat back home.  He put his tiny little front paws together and bounced them up and down.  He wiggled his cheeks with his tiny little front teeth sticking out.  I gotta tell you, it was a deadly approach.  Deadly cute.  Of course, I snapped a photo.  He held the pose.  I called Chris over, and she snapped a pic or three.  Still, he hung around.  I finally revealed that we were not proper agents, so we didn’t have the appropriate sustenance he was seeking to continue to help his body adapt to the earth atmosphere.  Downhearted, he slowly trudged away from us to sulk under a nearby bench.  But about that time, another park attendee strolled up, and her curiosity got the best of her.  She stopped and wondered what was going on.  I introduced her to the little critter.  He came right out, of course, ready to perform once again.  I heard her exclaim as we strolled out of sight, “I’ve never had a woodland creature do this to me in my whole life!”

 

We completed the entire distance, then hiked over to where the bus could take us back to our car.  We did find another visitor center along the way, and who should be in there but one of the compatriots of the squirrelly little creature we ran into on the trail.  This time I couldn’t resist.  Yes, we have another traveler with us.  A so-called “squirrel” (Sure, it looks like a squirrel.  But really?).  Oh, and his name we found out is Boley.  That’s right.  It’s “like a bowl that you use to eat.  With an ‘E.’”  I think maybe it’s French.  Thanks for the name, Ezra.

 

We stopped at one other point of interest in the park as we were heading out.  It was supposed to be a tower we could climb.  But the tower, though still there to look at, was closed to climbing.  Oh, well.  Time to move on anyway.

 

But wait.  A problem has arisen.  Between the park and our next target viewing site down the road … there are absolutely no hotel rooms available.  None.  Nada.  We tried everything we could think of until we were forced to retreat.  That’s right.  We booked a room at the same hotel we stayed in the night before – two and a half hours away.  But guess what?  By this time, we had accumulated enough points to qualify for another free night.  So … good wins out over evil.  And to our surprise, the free room was upgraded for us.  We were placed in a king bed suite.  Two rooms.  Two TV’s (No coverage of the Astros opening day, though).  Best we have ever had.  I would say it was worth the long drive back.  But of course, I didn’t drive the long drive back …

 

Psalms 4:8 says, “In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.”

 

Father, thank you for this surprise upgrade.  Please be with us as we head back east for some more experiences.  Amen.

April 7 – “An ‘Oops Discovery’”

We now have a new second place hotel.  A close second place.  Ruby’s is still on top based on sheer entertainment value.  But the hotel from the next night was brand new.  Even had a motion sensor in the bathroom that turned on the light.  Only thing was, it also turned off the light.  While I was in the shower.  Oh well, it was a fun challenge to finish showering in the dark.  And better yet.  I never mentioned that interesting quality to Chris.  I didn’t want her to miss that experience.  She didn’t.  Chuckle.  Chuckle.

 

We went back to Zion.  This time early in the morning.  There were no lines at all.  Plenty of places to park.  As far as hikes go, we did a fairly easy two miler and a really easy one miler.  The first one was a walk along the river in the bottom of a canyon.  River.  Water.  Beautiful water.  It has been too long.  It was a pretty fun hike, too.  Aside from the breathtaking views straight up the sides of mountains and along the banks of a kind of muddy, but angrily flowing river (They had to close one of the hikes because it required crossing the river at one point and that was currently almost impossible), I met a guy from Idaho who knows someone who used to live in Galveston.  That unknown Galvestonian played guitar for Kenny Rogers.  Pretty famous for an unknown guy.  We met a family on the bus who had just moved to Utah from Austin.  Still haven’t gotten used to the winters.  Ah, people.  High points – mine at least - usually involve people.  On the second hike we met a guy who told us his wife tells him all the time to stop and smell the roses.  I said that was good advice, but sometimes I couldn’t find the roses!  Oh, on both hikes we saw a group of mule deer.  The first time they were romping and playing and chasing each other.  The second time they were having a snack right next to the path.  Obviously not afraid of humans.  All in all. Zion is a pretty good place to be – physically AND spiritually.  We did hit a snag on our way out of the park, though.  Something happened that caused a 30 minute plus holdup at the tunnel.  We never got an explanation.  I think it might have been an alien infestation of large bugs from the planet Cromedia.  They don’t get many bugs in Utah, so that was a big deal.  In Texas we would just think they were mosquitoes and squish them, however big they were.

 

We finally made it through the tunnel and headed to Pipe Springs National Monument in Arizona.  Oh, and we also saw a herd of bison along the way.  Just gathered on the side of the road.  I’m pretty sure they were voting on who would be the next one to pretend to go berserk and stamp and charge at the tourists.  The National Monument was actually a reconstructed ranch.  Brigham Young ordered it built back in his day to serve as the tithe receiving station for Mormon livestock tithes.  They had a Texas longhorn and some chickens on site.

 

Next stop was Marble Canyon.  Yeah, I never heard of it, either.  But on the way I saw a lone coyote walking along the side of the road.  Poor lonely guy.  The big draw in Marble Canyon, other than the canyon, was a walk on the Navajo Bridge.  It’s a giant steel structure over some river on the Navajo Indian Reservation.  Pretty impressive feat of engineering.  There are actually two bridges.  One for cars and one for walking across to take pictures of the first one.  Guess they had some leftover steel.  At the visitor center we heard more about the big project in the area (it was a biggie in Zion as well).  They are attempting to save the California condor from extinction.  It is alleged to be the largest bird in the United States.  We finally got the message.  At the visitor center we decided to adopt one.  Calcey Condor now lives with us.

 

Our final stop was actually at the closest hotel we could get to the Grand Canyon.  It was in a little town called Page, Arizona, about two and a half hours away.  Yikes.  However, it turned out to be a fortuitous accident.  Come to find out, Page is the home site for the Horseshoe Bend overlook of none other than the Colorado River.  A little piece of home.  Now that was a beautiful, unexpected sight.  The river makes a literal bend around a huge, protruding piece of the mountain.  We could see people camping on the shore after arriving in canoes.  At least we think they were people.  It is certainly possible that the distance to the bottom could have been an optical illusion, and what we were seeing was more of those pesky alien creatures.  But it was still amazing.  And to top it off, we saw it right at sunset.  Gorgeous.  Worth the “Oops Discovery,” for sure.  Now we just have to hope that we can still get into the Grand Canyon today after a two and a half hour drive. 

 

Romans 5:8 says, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

 

Father, thank you once again for the incredible beauty of your creation – natural and humans.  Amen.