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| Our best view from home, yet! |
We hadn't planned to spend so much time in the desert. When we were still dreaming of traveling a whole month ago from Ontario, we planned on heading for greener pastures, literally. We wanted out of the heat of home and we couldn't wait to don some warmer weather clothing. Thank goodness we kept a few pairs of shorts when we made our last stop at storage. We've spent the better portion of this month in warm weather, to say the least. The past week and a half have found us in Canyon Country: lots of high places and deep ridges. At this point, I'm ready to desert the desert, but not before bidding a farewell to some of the stunning places we've visited and memories we've made.
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| Evelyn pointing at our house from the river level |
Campsites are
first-come-first-served for $20 a night and are all primitive. The campground
sits on a hill overlooking the river and is nestled within the canyon itself.
Campers are cradled by the face of the red canyon wall on the east side of the
water and the rocky canyon walls to the west. The dam that holds back the
waters of Lake Powell is about five miles up-river. Motor boaters can launch at
Lee's Ferry and head north toward Horseshoe Bend and the dam, but no motorboats
would dare venture downstream, as Lee's Ferry is where the Paria River drains
into the Colorado and deposits its loose sediment, creating "riffle"
which leads to more dangerous rapids further downstream. Those seeking adventure
park their cars at Lee's Ferry for up to 14 days, riding the rapids in a raft
for week or two-week long epic adventures. Those like us, though, enjoy the
scenery and play in the river. The road in to Lee's Ferry is a dead-end road.
Explorers by road can't drive any farther up the river from that point.
At Lee's Ferry, we enjoyed
spectacular sunsets and I enjoyed a local wine, Arizona Angel. Evelyn serenaded
us after dinner. In the site we chose, site 37, we backed right up to a drop
off. The bikes on the rack at the back
of our trailer hanged ten feet over the nearest ground and it sloped down from
there. We had a view of the river where
the riffle began and could hear the river at night, amplified by the towering
rock face on its other side. It was a comfortable 80-85 degrees (I have yet to
abandon my So Cal girl flip-flops!), so we spent one day down at the beach of
the river.  |
| Enjoying the weather and view from our picnic table |
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| Heidi hightailing it back to me |
Brent and Evelyn played in
the water until their legs turned white and then red from the cold. All the
dogs got to take a swim while we were there, though Heidi's was the only
voluntary dip! The dogs made the call to end the fun by walking back up the
sandy path toward the truck. They wouldn't come back when we called. Though
they didn't run all the way back, they kept a good 15 foot distance between us
and them, so each step we made toward them, they backed toward the car a step.
They were making it clear-- we want to obey you but we're not going near the
water again.
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| Aaaaaagh! |
We followed their lead and
went back to the car, but instead of going back to camp we drove the road back
out of Lee's Ferry toward the Navajo Bridge we had crossed to come in over the
river. The bridge arches over the river, some 400 feet below. The walls on
either side of the river at this point are sheer drops from the surface. We
walked over the bridge and my stomach did flips. I hate heights! Brent is quite
comfortable with heights if not exhilarated by them, and Evelyn has no fear or
understanding of the cautions to take at this point. I explained to her to stay
near the middle but Brent's ease seemed to rub off on her. I was forced to peer
over the sides because she wanted to. I wasn't about to leave her out of my
reach, so that's what a mama has to do-- keep a death grip on the kid's shirt
while swallowing her own knot of fear in her throat.
We survived the bridge ordeal and took home a yellow beaded necklace and bracelet set we bought from a Navajo pan-handler with sad eyes and a sad story who sat on the bridge to make a few bucks off of tourists like us. Then, we drove the stretch of road back toward Lee's Ferry, stopping to marvel at the boulders of granite that had tumbled from the tops of the hillsides when the soft lava rock had eroded underneath them. Some huge anvils of granite at ground level still rest on tiny stumps of supporting lava. It's like some kind of moonscape... and impressive, to say the least.
Back at the campground that evening, an elderly couple (mid 70s) approached looking to borrow an ax for their firewood. After some chatting, we learned they'd been coming to Lee's Ferry for 39 years! Jenny and Terry had started coming here together two years before they were married and have hiked and explored everything this area of the canyon has to offer. They were staying in a tent in one of the best sites in the park, where they had a full panoramic view of the river. Jenny had been there a week on her own before Terry came to join her for the second week-- all in a tent!! Jenny asked how we had discovered Lee's Ferry and when I told her about the campground app, her response was an impressed "Holy Hell!" followed immediately by a soft spoken apology and a hand to her mouth. My eyebrows went up and I laughed. She told me, "My kids all give me a hard time because I cuss, but what can I say? I'm a cussing granny!"
Jenny noticed Evelyn's rock collection and admired them with her. The morning we left, Jenny came over to say goodbye and brought Evelyn a piece of petrified wood to add to her rock collection along with a rock that sparkled in the sun. She told Evelyn that when she came back to Lee's Ferry (and she hoped that she would) she could hike the hills behind the campground and find more petrified wood pieces for her collection. Evelyn picked out a red, smooth rock from her own collection to give Jenny in return.
We considered heading up toward Utah after our two nights at Lee's Ferry. Time flies when you're having fun and our window of time for this leg of our adventure is closing before Thanksgiving and Christmas. We hadn't planned to visit Arizona at all on our way out because we knew we wanted to use whatever decent weather remained for the year to explore north and then east, but here we'd spent all our time in the desert, so far. Still, we'd talked about visiting Lake Powell for years. We couldn't get this close and not go. We'd spend one night there, we decided, just to see it.
The trek to Lake Powell
wasn't a long one, but the drive was impressive. We traveled the flat valley
between two sets of cliffs. We saw herds of wild horses grazing in the
plains and slight hills of the valley. We passed the vermillion cliffs to our
right and headed toward the red cliffs to our left. The highway on the flats
where we'd been traveling turns left and climbs up into the red rock cliffs on
the east side of the valley. The grade is an unforgiving one; I kept
apologizing to our truck, though Brent insisted the truck was happier than it
had ever been. We stopped at a vista point about 2/3 of the way up the grade,
where one can observe the canyons walls the river has cut through the flatlands
like a gaping scar expanding from right to left. At surface level, this
spectacle is virtually invisible. From this height, the gaping gash through the
earth is impossible to miss. After taking some pictures, we climbed back into
the truck, which roared and crawled its way to moving again on the steep grade.
Before long, we were passing through a V shaped pathway at the top of the rock
mountain and then found ourselves on flat land again. We looked back at the
hills behind us but they appeared small, tree-covered mounds. One would never
guess that a towering rock face plummets down from the other side. We were in
completely different landscape now.
We hadn't really planned where we would stay, but we knew that Wahweap RV Park had no openings. We'd be seeking primitive camping again. That had worked out well outside of Sedona, so why not? We had seen from a Google satellite image an area next to the lake where several RVs were parked in an open sandy area. We simply headed down that stretch of highway to see what we could find. We crossed over a bridge that spans over the dam and river. Another high bridge!
Before long, we saw the lake itself and followed the highway along its edge until we noticed a turn off for Lone Rock Beach. We could see a towering monolith from the highway but didn't see the water surrounding it until we had entered the park. After passing the kiosk, we could see what this National Park had to offer: beachside camping, lots and lots of open flat dirt to park in, and a sandy, hilly, ATV area. This was like the river and Glamis combined! If this were closer to home, our families would love this!
It was busy at Lone Rock Beach. It was a Friday, so it was to be expected. RVs and cars were pulled up to the shoreline in whatever angle they could edge themselves in to the fray. They toted ATVs, Razors, kayaks, paddleboards, motorboats, and more. This was a recreational vehicle dreamland! We rocked and rolled through the dirt and sand. Evelyn, who had a touch of cabin fever from traveling and had crossed over into nap-avoidance territory, ran alongside the truck with Heidi by request. Though there were acres of clear real estate in the dirt middle ground of the park, we chose a small opening near the water between two parked cars we gambled were probably not staying for the night and a motor home who certainly was. While we backed our rear end into the tight spot, the owner of the car nearest us came up to grab something. I asked if we were plopping ourselves right on top of them for the night and he cheerfully replied, "Heck no! This park belongs to everyone! Enjoy!"
It was in the high 80s
if not low 90s. Boy, was I getting sick of the desert and the heat! But, this was pretty darn neat. Evelyn and I put on our bathing suits and walked down to
the water. Evelyn swam in the brisk water while I stood knee deep. Paddle
boarders glided along the surface, an occasional boat sped by, and plenty of
others swam at the water's edge like Evelyn was doing. Nearby, a couple threw
balls far out into the water for their Standard Poodles to fetch.
We made dinner and the sun set, setting the monolith, Lone Rock, aflame with a soft pinkish orange. It grew dark and we set a table out behind our trailer with some chairs to have dinner with a view. Before long, the moon rose over the hills and glowed over the landscape, leaving a sparkling moonlit path over the reflection in the water. The entire place was lit up. We truly did have dinner by the moonlight, and our shadows were cast behind us to show for it.
The next day we hiked to Horseshoe Bend, where the River takes nearly a 360 degree circular turn. It was a truly beaten path. We were in the company of hundreds of other tourists, most of whom were not American. In my mind, the desert is not a tourist destination. Though we'd been exploring the desert for two weeks now, I'd never had any desire to visit the places we'd been, particularly. Even as Brent has been pointing out colors of rocks and cliffs and landscape along the way, I've been a bit jaded. It is impressive, but it's the desert. I have to admit, I don't find it appealing, and though I'd be pretty blind to say some isn't awe-inspiring, I don't like it. I can't wait until we are literally exploring greener pastures. So, when it is evident that scores of foreign tourists make a point to come to places like Lake Powell and Horseshoe Bend, I'm baffled. Anyway...
It was hot. The hike to Horseshoe Bend was only about a three quarter mile each way, but it was a hilly, sandy hike. I had Kailyn in the carrier on my chest and for once I regretted the flip flops as footwear. At the end of the trail, Horseshoe Bend sat 600-700 feet down, a drop unsecured by any type of railing. One wrong step or slip would easily spell doom. My heart went from pounding of cardio exercise to outright fear. Evelyn's nonchalant attitude on the bridge the day before rang of foreshadowing to me.
I had to sit on a sloping
bench of lava rock to nurse Kailyn when we got near the path's end. Twenty feet
away, hundreds of people lined the edges of the drop like ants, looking over
the edge and snapping pictures. As I finished and snuggled Kailyn back in the
carrier, I watched Brent and Evelyn, hand in hand, approach the edge. My heart
pounded so loud I could hear it in my forehead. I walked closer only to see
Brent sit Evelyn on a ledge and tell her to stay there so he could get a
picture. I had to work hard to refrain from screeching my reaction-- I didn't
want to scare Evelyn. What came out was a surprisingly calm, "Are you
kidding me? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? No, no, no!" I'm
sure the fire in my expression spoke louder than the words themselves. Brent
wasn't about to argue with my greatest fear aside from some utterance of there
being a five foot ledge about six feet down below her before the drop. Like
that was supposed to make it safe? Needless to say, we are all safe and the
only fatality we witnessed was a nearby girl's phone, which fell into the abyss
when her selfie stick broke while held out over the edge.
The entire time we were there from that point, my knees were shaking and my eyes cried incessantly though I wasn't sobbing or crying in any other way. This is fear, folks. I was already feeling very DONE with the desert, but I think this sealed it. I'm done with cliffs and dirt, done with heat and sweat, done with dry breezes and chapped lips. Done. There is no spectacle in this region of Earth that I'd be willing to face my fears to see. Done.
We stayed another windy night at Lake Powell and packed up a very windy day the next day to leave.
Lake Powell was stunning... really the entire desert is, but I'm so ready for some greenery!!
Utah, here we come!
(For more pictures, please visit our new page for photos, "Happy Trails, Happy Tales and More!")
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| Peering over the edge at the condors |
All fear aside and taking
the spectacle for what it is, the river and bridge were awe inspiring. Another
bridge-goer informed us that there was a pair of condors sitting on the arches
of the bridge underneath us. We looked in the direction she was pointing to
find an amateur photographer leaning himself as far over the railing as he
could to snap some pictures. We were soon part of a small crowd of people
braving the heights to see these rare, bare-headed creatures under bridge. I
leaned over far enough, myself, to see the flapping of a massive black wing as
one of them repositioned itself. I held Evelyn's shirt with white knuckles so
she could lean out of one of the diamond shaped openings in the metal to catch
a peek for herself.
We survived the bridge ordeal and took home a yellow beaded necklace and bracelet set we bought from a Navajo pan-handler with sad eyes and a sad story who sat on the bridge to make a few bucks off of tourists like us. Then, we drove the stretch of road back toward Lee's Ferry, stopping to marvel at the boulders of granite that had tumbled from the tops of the hillsides when the soft lava rock had eroded underneath them. Some huge anvils of granite at ground level still rest on tiny stumps of supporting lava. It's like some kind of moonscape... and impressive, to say the least.
Back at the campground that evening, an elderly couple (mid 70s) approached looking to borrow an ax for their firewood. After some chatting, we learned they'd been coming to Lee's Ferry for 39 years! Jenny and Terry had started coming here together two years before they were married and have hiked and explored everything this area of the canyon has to offer. They were staying in a tent in one of the best sites in the park, where they had a full panoramic view of the river. Jenny had been there a week on her own before Terry came to join her for the second week-- all in a tent!! Jenny asked how we had discovered Lee's Ferry and when I told her about the campground app, her response was an impressed "Holy Hell!" followed immediately by a soft spoken apology and a hand to her mouth. My eyebrows went up and I laughed. She told me, "My kids all give me a hard time because I cuss, but what can I say? I'm a cussing granny!"
Jenny noticed Evelyn's rock collection and admired them with her. The morning we left, Jenny came over to say goodbye and brought Evelyn a piece of petrified wood to add to her rock collection along with a rock that sparkled in the sun. She told Evelyn that when she came back to Lee's Ferry (and she hoped that she would) she could hike the hills behind the campground and find more petrified wood pieces for her collection. Evelyn picked out a red, smooth rock from her own collection to give Jenny in return.
We considered heading up toward Utah after our two nights at Lee's Ferry. Time flies when you're having fun and our window of time for this leg of our adventure is closing before Thanksgiving and Christmas. We hadn't planned to visit Arizona at all on our way out because we knew we wanted to use whatever decent weather remained for the year to explore north and then east, but here we'd spent all our time in the desert, so far. Still, we'd talked about visiting Lake Powell for years. We couldn't get this close and not go. We'd spend one night there, we decided, just to see it.
 |
| The path cut through the flatlands by the river |
We hadn't really planned where we would stay, but we knew that Wahweap RV Park had no openings. We'd be seeking primitive camping again. That had worked out well outside of Sedona, so why not? We had seen from a Google satellite image an area next to the lake where several RVs were parked in an open sandy area. We simply headed down that stretch of highway to see what we could find. We crossed over a bridge that spans over the dam and river. Another high bridge!
Before long, we saw the lake itself and followed the highway along its edge until we noticed a turn off for Lone Rock Beach. We could see a towering monolith from the highway but didn't see the water surrounding it until we had entered the park. After passing the kiosk, we could see what this National Park had to offer: beachside camping, lots and lots of open flat dirt to park in, and a sandy, hilly, ATV area. This was like the river and Glamis combined! If this were closer to home, our families would love this!
 |
| RVs camped at Lone Rock Beach |
It was busy at Lone Rock Beach. It was a Friday, so it was to be expected. RVs and cars were pulled up to the shoreline in whatever angle they could edge themselves in to the fray. They toted ATVs, Razors, kayaks, paddleboards, motorboats, and more. This was a recreational vehicle dreamland! We rocked and rolled through the dirt and sand. Evelyn, who had a touch of cabin fever from traveling and had crossed over into nap-avoidance territory, ran alongside the truck with Heidi by request. Though there were acres of clear real estate in the dirt middle ground of the park, we chose a small opening near the water between two parked cars we gambled were probably not staying for the night and a motor home who certainly was. While we backed our rear end into the tight spot, the owner of the car nearest us came up to grab something. I asked if we were plopping ourselves right on top of them for the night and he cheerfully replied, "Heck no! This park belongs to everyone! Enjoy!"
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| What a view from inside! |
We got ourselves set up and
I went inside the trailer to open the slides. If the view outside was
impressive, there was something about seeing it out our back window that made
it even more impressive. Because the beach was about six feet down a small
sandy slope right behind our trailer, it appeared the water came right up to
the trailer from the view inside.
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| Probably our best parking spot for home yet! |
We made dinner and the sun set, setting the monolith, Lone Rock, aflame with a soft pinkish orange. It grew dark and we set a table out behind our trailer with some chairs to have dinner with a view. Before long, the moon rose over the hills and glowed over the landscape, leaving a sparkling moonlit path over the reflection in the water. The entire place was lit up. We truly did have dinner by the moonlight, and our shadows were cast behind us to show for it.
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| The moon over Lake Powell |
The next day we hiked to Horseshoe Bend, where the River takes nearly a 360 degree circular turn. It was a truly beaten path. We were in the company of hundreds of other tourists, most of whom were not American. In my mind, the desert is not a tourist destination. Though we'd been exploring the desert for two weeks now, I'd never had any desire to visit the places we'd been, particularly. Even as Brent has been pointing out colors of rocks and cliffs and landscape along the way, I've been a bit jaded. It is impressive, but it's the desert. I have to admit, I don't find it appealing, and though I'd be pretty blind to say some isn't awe-inspiring, I don't like it. I can't wait until we are literally exploring greener pastures. So, when it is evident that scores of foreign tourists make a point to come to places like Lake Powell and Horseshoe Bend, I'm baffled. Anyway...
It was hot. The hike to Horseshoe Bend was only about a three quarter mile each way, but it was a hilly, sandy hike. I had Kailyn in the carrier on my chest and for once I regretted the flip flops as footwear. At the end of the trail, Horseshoe Bend sat 600-700 feet down, a drop unsecured by any type of railing. One wrong step or slip would easily spell doom. My heart went from pounding of cardio exercise to outright fear. Evelyn's nonchalant attitude on the bridge the day before rang of foreshadowing to me.
I had to sit on a sloping
bench of lava rock to nurse Kailyn when we got near the path's end. Twenty feet
away, hundreds of people lined the edges of the drop like ants, looking over
the edge and snapping pictures. As I finished and snuggled Kailyn back in the
carrier, I watched Brent and Evelyn, hand in hand, approach the edge. My heart
pounded so loud I could hear it in my forehead. I walked closer only to see
Brent sit Evelyn on a ledge and tell her to stay there so he could get a
picture. I had to work hard to refrain from screeching my reaction-- I didn't
want to scare Evelyn. What came out was a surprisingly calm, "Are you
kidding me? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? No, no, no!" I'm
sure the fire in my expression spoke louder than the words themselves. Brent
wasn't about to argue with my greatest fear aside from some utterance of there
being a five foot ledge about six feet down below her before the drop. Like
that was supposed to make it safe? Needless to say, we are all safe and the
only fatality we witnessed was a nearby girl's phone, which fell into the abyss
when her selfie stick broke while held out over the edge.  |
| Oh...my...GAWD!! |
The entire time we were there from that point, my knees were shaking and my eyes cried incessantly though I wasn't sobbing or crying in any other way. This is fear, folks. I was already feeling very DONE with the desert, but I think this sealed it. I'm done with cliffs and dirt, done with heat and sweat, done with dry breezes and chapped lips. Done. There is no spectacle in this region of Earth that I'd be willing to face my fears to see. Done.
We stayed another windy night at Lake Powell and packed up a very windy day the next day to leave.
Lake Powell was stunning... really the entire desert is, but I'm so ready for some greenery!!
Utah, here we come!
(For more pictures, please visit our new page for photos, "Happy Trails, Happy Tales and More!")
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