Days 18-24: The Southwest

(Ed: Written June 16th)

Today is the last day on the Southwestern leg of our roadtrip. We started at Las Vegas (alternatively described as “an American treasure” and “an American wasteland”), toured the natural wonders Zion, Bryce Canyon and the Grand Canyon, stood in awe before the Ancestral Puebloan (formerly known as Anasazi) ruins of Mesa Verde, and are on the search for the truth about what’s really out there, by visiting the Very Large Array and Roswell today.

We arrived in Las Vegas on Wednesday afternoon, after a long drive from Yosemite. Perhaps I had simply developed overblown expectations of Las Vegas, but I was a little disappointed by our experience there. It certainly had all the glitz, but lacked the expected glamour. As a result, it seemed like no more than a poor parody of itself. We stayed inside the glass pyramid at the Luxor, and the excesses of Las Vegas were apparent as soon as we arrived at the check-in counter. We were told that the elevator was to be found by turning at the Starbucks, going down the hallway, and turning at a second Starbucks. Why exactly the Luxor needs two Starbucks on the same hallway escaped us. After refreshing ourselves, we went out to see the sights.

The Strip was impressive. There are these overpasses which allow you to go from casino to casino without ever stepping foot on the sidewalk. We walked past a replica of the New York skyline (complete with roller coaster in front) and saw the MGM Grande, which had a live lion exhibit (unfortunately the lions were absent), and an absolutely huge mall section complete with 5th Avenue boutiques and restaurants (which were completely beyond our means), as well as the ubiquitous slot machine. The glitz was very exciting for a while: we were awestruck by the amazing water show at the Bellagio, as well as it’s elegant, if quirky decorations (we also dined there since it was not too expensive), the replica classical statues and marblework of Caesar’s, the fake Paris complete with Eiffel Tower and a recreation of the Doge’s Palace at the Venetian. Everything was larger than life; even Walgreens and McDonald’s had large flashy neon signs, and the cab drivers charged for every 1/12th of a mile (133 meters). Unfortunately, as we proceeded up the Strip, we realized that beyond the décor, there was little difference between any of the casinos. They all had the same combination of slot machines, card tables, expensive restaurants, high-end boutiques, not-very-happening bars and for some reason, giant TVs with rows of seating.

What we found lacking was the glamorous spirit of the place. The shows were far, far beyond our means, and there was a lack of the colourful figures we expected. We didn’t see a single showgirl, not even one of those gladiators at Caesar’s we expected to be wandering around (the closest we saw were the Xena-like performers at Treasure Island). If there is an America to be found, perhaps it was found on the streets and in the rows of slot machines; families both awed by the spectacle and disgusted by the seediness, the blank, desperate look on the faces of the gamblers, the resignation of the Mexicans who filled the streets, paid to hand out cards for escort services.

The polish did not completely hide the seediness of Las Vegas. While sensuality is part of the spirit of the city, it seemed far too overt and too omnipresent. Gigantic posters advertised strip clubs, while cars paraded up and down the Strip, dragging giant banners depicting naked women and promising a good time. Even the magazine boxes (where one might normally find Renter’s Weekly and the like) were filled with porn magazines. The ground was covered in the glossy cards (depicting nudes) being handed out by aforementioned Mexicans, who made a constant twacking sound as they smacked the cards against their hands to draw attention. The models themselves seemed to embody the spirit of the town: tired and desperate, as if worn down by the constant need to seem upbeat.

Unfortunately, Ricardo had to return to New York after our night out in Las Vegas. The car seems emptier with just the two of us, perhaps made worse by the miles and miles of desolation we’re driving through. If you’re reading this buddy, we hope you’re doing well in New York.

Before completely leaving the Las Vegas area, we made a short detour on Monday morning to see Hoover Dam. The approach was quite impressive. There was a partly-completed arch bridge under construction across the canyon where the dam stood (we were disappointed to learn that the photogenic supporting cables were to be removed). The dam itself was surprisingly graceful, with gentle, sweeping curves that belied its monolithic nature. Behind the dam, Lake Mead stretched out to the horizon, although water levels seemed worryingly low (the historic waterline was marked out in the rock by mineral deposits, and was significantly higher than the lake’s height).

The dam itself proved to be something of a tourist trap. You could walk around on top and take pictures for free (which we did), but we wanted to learn more so we went on the tour. At least we only paid for the generator tour as opposed to the full tour, which was more expensive although we’re not certain why. The tour started with one of those slick documentary videos (which every national park seems to have these days), which extolled the virtues of the dam. We waited in line for an elevator for a long time, before the tour group descended to a room that overlooked a tunnel taking the water to the generators. After a brief spiel from the tour guide (we felt the tour would have been much more interesting if she didn’t seem to be reciting from a prepared script), we went back to the elevators and were herded down to see the generators themselves. It was pretty cool to see eight massive turbines driven by the power of the Colorado river, but the problem was that that was all that there was to see. The tour ended there, dropping us off into the museum.

Leaving the glitz and glamour of Las Vegas, we embarked on a three-day tour of the national parks of the Southwest. A huge swath of southern Utah and Northern Arizona is federal land, divided among a patchwork of national parks and forests. We only got the chance to see a small slice of the region, but as we later learned it was a very well chosen slice. The canyons and mesas form the edge of the Colorado Plateau, with the hoodoos of Bryce representing the highest layers, the Zion sandstones representing the middle layers, and the Grand Canyon at the bottom of the formation.

We drove up to Zion National Park on Thursday, and spent that evening and Friday morning there. Our time there proved to be an invaluable introduction: we learned about the different layers of rock that date back to Precambrian times, and how the flow of rivers carves the deep, scenic canyons. The main part of Zion is actually a single valley around the Virgin River. To reduce traffic, there is a bus system that picks up visitors and drops them off at different scenic overlooks and trailheads. That evening, we hiked up the Watchman trail to an overlook above the southern end of the valley, taking in the stunning view, with its contrasting red and white stone peaks and vivid green trees. Unable to secure a campground, we pitched our tent at a camping ranch a little distance from the park. Feeling lethargic on Friday morning, we only walked a few short trails; one followed the river up to a narrowing of the canyons (until we could go no further, since the river took up the canyon and we had no wading boots), another led to a disappointingly small waterfall (probably because we came after the meltwaters had vanished).

On Friday afternoon, we drove over to Bryce Canyon. The drive is particularly scenic, since there’s a mile-long tunnel (to which one must climb some particularly scenic switchbacks) in Zion we had to pass through to get there (actually, we went through three times, since our campground was on the other side of the tunnel). The main attraction of Bryce Canyon were the hoodoos, wind-carved pillars of red rock that bear more than a passing resemblance to statues (the little introduction video told us that according to Paiute legend, the hoodoos are people transformed by the Coyote). The entire park lies along a cliff face, with the hoodoos standing below the rim. That evening, we drove down to the overlook at Rainbow Point, arriving at sunset. The effect of the sun on the breathtaking landscape of hoodoos, surprisingly large trees and distant mesas was incredible. We stopped at most of the overlooks on the way back to our campground, taking pictures of the hoodoos and natural arches below.

The following morning, we hiked into the canyon itself. We chose a 6 mile (10 km) trail with a 1700 foot (about 500 meter) elevation change, combining the Queen’s Garden, Navajo Loop and Peekaboo Loop trails. The descent into the canyon was surprisingly gentle, and we quickly arrived at the Queen’s Garden, which was a hoodoo which bore a surprisingly resemblance to Queen Victoria in profile. From there, we went to the Peekaboo Loop, so named for the many tunnels through the rock which hides the profile of the hoodoos and cliff face. The trail kept on climbing and descending; on every descent you thought that the loop would end, only to find that there was another hill to climb. As if this wasn’t difficult enough, there were also horseback tours along that trail, and the horses left a plentiful supply of waste products to fertilise the trail in their wake. This was not the end though, because we still had to climb up to the top of the canyon through the bottom half of the Navajo loop. This proved to be nearly vertical, as the trail used a combination of switch-backs and stairs to climb what must have been the equivalent of thirty stories.

Satisfied with ourselves after a morning of hiking at Bryce Canyon, we drove down to the north rim of the Grand Canyon on Saturday evening. We stopped briefly at the Pipe Spring National Monument, where there was an old Mormon ranch, and a little museum describing both the Paiute and Mormon experiences. Campgrounds at the Grand Canyon were filled up far in advance, leaving us to pitch our tent at a more distant campsite in the Kaibab National Forest. Somewhat surreally, the northern rim of the Grand Canyon is covered in thick forest (I wouldn’t be able to distinguish this from say, Wisconsin), which upended our expectations of what the Southwest should look like. We later learned that the higher altitude of the North Rim meant more precipitation fell there, leaving a lush forest surrounded by scrub desert too barren to graze cattle.

Perhaps it’s a little redundant to say this, but the Grand Canyon is big. Really, really big. The distant canyon walls seem like mountains on the horizon, the canyons themselves like descents into the underworld. It made the impressive canyons at Zion and Bryce seem like scale models. Sadly, this kind of scale doesn’t really come out well in photographs, but I suppose that we could hardly take better shots than those which have already been taken. Our canyon-hiking experience at Bryce did not prepare us at all for hiking the Grand Canyon. From the North Rim, the North Kaibab trail leads from the edge of the canyon, right down to the Colorado River, some 14 miles away (and about a mile down). The distances themselves were not really all that far, but the elevation change made the trek incredibly difficult. We only went down to the Redstone Bridge, which is less than 3 miles from the rim, but dropped more than 2000 feet. This still took us 5-6 hours to do. Going down was really easy: the trail is inviting and full of fellow hikers. We really didn’t take into account the strained faces of the hikers coming up (some people camp in the canyon, since it’s the only way to get to the river and back. The National Park Service warns against trying to get to the river and back in a day, for good reason). The rock change going down is amazingly sharp: we noticed the white stone at the top of the canyon give way to the red sandstone of the Supai formation on the trail itself. The views are amazing as you go down: you can see the far side of the canyon as you go down, and the hikers on the trail far below. We passed through the short Supai tunnel, and pressed on, all the way down to the Redstone Bridge, where we rested and chatted with a Dutch couple. The way up gave us much more trouble. We took a slow, plodding pace, but still we had to stop every ten minutes or so to catch our breath. We counted some 82 switchbacks on the way up; most were at least a hundred meters or so apart. Going steadily uphill, as the sun beats down mercilessly on you, on a path littered with horse droppings and hikers descending with the greatest of ease on the opposite side: not the most fun I’ve had. What was even worse was that you couldn’t even see the real top of the canyon, so more canyon wall appeared in front of you as you keep climbing. It was profoundly satisfying to stand on the top of the canyon and to know that you don’t need to go up anymore.

We left the Grand Canyon on Sunday afternoon, headed roughly northeast towards Colorado. Our trail led us through the Navajo nation, which is situated in the northeastern portion of Arizona (and extends into New Mexico and Utah). Like most Native American reservations, the Navajo seem to have gotten a pretty raw deal: most of the land was desolate, scrub desert, too thin to even graze cattle. Tourism seemed to be the only economic activity: there were these little jewellery stalls everywhere (though business couldn’t have been great). They also ran the Four Corners, where we stopped briefly just before closing time. Andrew can now claim to have lain down across four states simultaneously, and we munched down on delicious, delicious frybread (a thin fried bread loaded with honey and powdered sugar). We almost got locked in since I used the restrooms and everyone left in the meantime.

We arrived at Mesa Verde on Sunday evening, and spent Monday there. Mesa Verde is one of the more significant Ancestral Puebloan (formerly called Anasazi, which means “enemy ancestor” in Navajo, and thus offensive to modern Puebloans) sites. Over seven hundred years ago, they constructed settlements there in little alcoves set into cliff-faces. What was amazing was that this was done entirely without metal tools to dig into the rock with; instead this was achieved entirely with stone tools.

Being ambitious, we set out to see all major sites open to the public. This involved dashing madly from site to site, trying to fit in self-guided tours between the ranger-led ones. We started with a ranger-led tour of Balcony House in the morning. Just getting to the site was an adventure of itself: we descended down steep staircases and climbed tall ladders just to get into the cliff settlement. Of course, the Ancestral Puebloans had no such luxuries; they climbed in using little handholds in the rock. We learned that one of the major motivations to move to these settlements was that water was easily accessible. On the mesa, the water sources were located where the sandstone gave way to an impenetrable layer of shale, creating seep springs. The settlements were constructed in the alcoves that held these springs, replacing earlier settlements on the mesa top (where their fields were). Balcony House was less accessible than the other sites we visited; there were low-hanging walls that served no purpose other than to slow down one’s entrance to the location. Although defensibility would seem to be the best motivation to move into a cliff, none of the sites at Mesa Verde had been attacked (they were abandoned because of drought). We also learned about the kivas, the underground ceremonial chambers that were everywhere at Mesa Verde. Ancestral Puebloans believed that their ancestors emerged into this world from another world below; thus the underground kivas, with their sipapu, or spirit holes, allowed them to connect with the spirits.

We had a little time between our tour of Balcony House and the next tour at Cliff Palace, so we dashed off to do the self-guided tour at Spruce Tree House. Here, we were actually able to climb into an intact kiva (most kivas had long since lost their roofs, leaving them as stone-lined pits). It was actually quite cool and comfortable in there; they have this innovative ventilation system that allows a fire to be lit inside and still channel the smoke out, which also lets air in. From there, we quickly drove over to Cliff Palace, the largest of the cliff settlements. This tour group was much larger, and focused more on the lifestyle of the ancient inhabitants. There were an inordinate number of kivas there; over twenty just for the hundred-or-so inhabitants, which may indicate that it was a religious gathering place of sorts. From there, we quickly made a tour of the Mesa Top, which had a number of sites which showed the progression of architectural styles. We saw how the humble pithouse developed into the kivas we saw in the cliff settlements. Then, we dashed off to the other side of the park to see the guided tour at Long House. This proved to be the most interesting visit since the group was very small and we got the chance to ask a lot of questions and to walk through the settlement (whereas the other two tours only let us walk on the outside).

Originally, we planned to stop at Albuquerque after Mesa Verde, but we decided to go on to avoid a 11-hour drive to San Antonio the day after. Alas, this also gave us time to visit the Very Large Array and Roswell along the way, which made our drive equally long. We started at the crack of dawn and made a breakfast and oil change stop in Albuquerque. We walked around the Old Town for a little bit, but its adobe buildings had long since been taken over by shops selling touristy knick-knacks.

The Very Large Array is in the middle of nowhere. In fact, its location was explicitly selected for that reason. A large array of radio telescopes, its size (a diameter of 13 miles!) and sensitivity to interference from other radio signals meant that the middle of nowhere was precisely where its designers wanted to put it. Needless to say, this meant that we had a very long drive out of our way to see it. The site was almost completely empty: only ourselves, a few other visitors, an employee at the gift shop, and probably someone operating the telescope. We saw the museum exhibit describing the discoveries made there, and then took a short walking tour out to the array itself, a collection of massive radio detectors that looked like giant satellite dishes, rising from the desert sands.

From the scientific searches of the VLA, we moved onto the conspiracy theories of Roswell. Unfortunately, we arrived far too late in the evening to see anything, even to get souvenirs. Sadly, we took a few pictures of the alien-head street lights, had dinner at a Mexican restaurant, and kept driving. Amazingly, we got as far as El Paso that night, a trip of 800 miles.

Pictures!

Mt. Rainier/Crater Lake: http://picasaweb.google.ca/lok.kin.yeung/20090607MtRainierCraterLakeRedwoods#

San Francisco/Yosemite: http://picasaweb.google.ca/lok.kin.yeung/SanFranciscoYosemite#

Southwest: http://picasaweb.google.ca/lok.kin.yeung/Southwest#