Roughing It, Day 5: Zion National Park
We camped in the dirt and saw some more rocks. We got ants in our car. We went to Vegas early.
Roughing It Day 3: Northern Arizona
Last night, we couldn’t find our campground. Some guy named Allen told us we could go down a dirt road and camp in the woods for free. So we did. And set up camp right next to a sign that says “No Shooting. Next Mile.”
We’d spent the day galloping through the deserts of Northern Arizona on our trusty steed, Black Betty. First stop was the Grand Canyon, a trip we’d taken together several years before, when we were young enough that if I said “Hey Steph, pick up that cactus,” she’d do it. On that trip, Mom screamed every time some one got close to the edge:
“Stephanie Whitaker, you get back here! I don’t want to have to tell your mother you fell down the Grand Canyon!”
”You know,” I said to Steph, “they have donkies that go down there.”
”Oh my God, oh my Goddddd! Can we do it?! Let’s gooooo!!!!”
”We are not going to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. I have CANCER!”
Somehow, it wasn’t as entertaining without her screaming at us every 3 minutes, so we pushed on to Navajo Nation. Cliffs swathed in shades of pink, red, purple, gray and white lined the highway, and clouds above promised rain in a place I thought never had any. It would take 5 panoramic photos and equipment way more expensive than any I own to really convey how awesome this landscape is. The Grand Canyon is so big, so vast, it almost doesn’t seem real. But these cliffs–you can get right there. You can touch them, see boulders perched on stone columns that can’t possibly hold their weight, see the colors swirl in these rocks that are so old and still untouched, and it absolutely takes your breath away. If I were an Indian, I totally would have settled here.
I wanted to camp by the cliffs, but we ended up in the Kaibab Forest, in a little clearing amongst the pine trees, fashioning a grate out of sticks for our ravioli with a pop top. It was great. No one was around playing Mexican music at 6 AM or blocking our acess to the creek or filling the only porta-potty with their crap. Here, you could strip in the middle of the clearing and do a little dance or hop over the hill to go to the bathroom or drive 2 minutes down the road to a different world, where the Jacob Motel had free bathrooms with hand driers. The only thing wehad to worry about were animals that might come out of the woods to eat the ravioli I spilled all over the ground. Why did we ever pay $20 a night to pee on top of other people’s pee when we had a whole forest to ourselves?
We wrapped up the night like the cozy mountain women we are, reading our new books about the history of Northern Arizona, making smores and cuddling on the queen-sized air mattress. You know, just in case.
Roughing It Day 1: Sedona
When Kelsea and I were little, we camped all the time. Giant blue tupperware boxes sat at the ready in our garage, with our little grill and stakes and chairs and we’d lug them out to the park, where I’d inevitably end up huddling at the bottom of my sleeping bag while it stormed. Also, I think Kelsea almost died one time. For some reason, Stephanie was always jealous that we got to go camping. And for some reason, we were all giddy as we headed down the mountain road into Oak Creek Canyon, the woods just outside of Sedona, for our first real camping in a good 11 years.
We arrived at our first campground, Bootlegger, in the dark without water, food, light, batteries or cash. There was no running water, two other campsites blocked access to the creek and the bathroom was just a giant, in-ground porta-potty that they don’t clean over the weekend. Steph drove off into the dusk to retrieve the items necessary for our survival, while Kelsea and I huddled at the picnic table and stared at each other. Two hours later, she returned with four chicken wings for the 3 of us to share. We ate cold green beans out of a can and went to bed with full bladders because going to the bathroom was like actually going inside of a pile of someone else’s crap.
The next day, in an attempt to heal, we went in search of a vortex. According to metaphysicists, Sedona contains the world’s most intense flow of electro-magnetic energy, concentrated in four vortexes that almost carve out a square around the city. Many with allergies, ashtma, arthritis and all kinds of diseases that start with letters besides “A” flock to the area for the healing power swirling between its Red Rocks. Since we all have allergies and a not-so-secret desire to have our auras read, we hiked up Bell Rock in search of enlightenment or something, and did yoga on top, just for good measure.
I like to think our vortex had an effect on our discovery of Cave Springs, a proper camp ground with simple showers and permanent porta-potties that have lights and are cleaned during the week. We made dinner over an actual fire, and then I woke up at 6:30, made another fire and cooked eggs over said fire, which absolutely fascinated me. Who knew you could make things without a microwave? And do it before 7 AM, in a forest, under the shadow of red rock boulders that can heal your greatest ailments?
We spent the rest of the day lounging around, gaping at rocks and ended up at Mago Cafe, a Korean restaurant on the south end of Main Street. Actually, I lied. We didn’t just “end up” at Mago Cafe. As the only place in town with wireless, we went there “on purpose.” Overlooking Snoopy Rock to the East, the place smelled of kimchi and coffee, and our waitresses over the past two days were Sedona natives that seemed decidedly jaded about their city. The rocks take your breath away, but I guess there’s only so many times you can say “wow,” only so many times you can hike to a vortex and only so many times you can visit places like Cowboy Bill and New Age Crystal in what is supposed to be your down town. The city seems to revolve around outdoor tourism, much like Chattanooga, so we could understand, and indeed had wondered, if Sedona’s residents held the same sense of boredom that we did about the Tennessee Valley. According to our waitresses, they do.
After 3 days, we, too, were ready for something new, so we threw everything back in Black Betty and took off, excited to see where the road would take us. Which ended up being more red rocks and camping.
On the Road Again
Knowing we would have zero to nil Internet for the drive between Santa Fe and Sedona, we set out with a brand new Lonely Planet USA guidebook. I also put on my overalls that I had brought for this express purpose.
Despite hoping that our guidebook would direct us to fabulous, interesting things, the land between Santa Fe and Sedona is just as big and boring as the rest of Western Texas and Southern New Mexico. To spice things up, here is our journey in a series of photographs:
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- First, I found a Chilly Dilly
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- Then Kelsea found a tee-pee
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- Then we found the Continental Divide. It was pretty boring.
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- So I tried to go gangsta.
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- There are no bathrooms between the Continental Divide and Sedona, so Steph went in the woods
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- Thank God I took toilet paper from someone along the way
Santa Fe
Santa Fe has a million billion fun things to do, but we didn’t do a single one of them. We were in town for two nights, stayed
in two separate hotels, and we can’t tell you one thing about the city except for the things we read on the Internet. We spent a few hours downtown today, but we’re starting to get kind of tired.
This is fine, though, because we’ve found that we have the best times in hotel rooms and/or in the car. We just crack jokes and fart and eat and laugh and then fart some more cause we’re laughing. After only one week, we’ve digressed to childhood, and we seem to work best that way because when we go out in public we just lose things and bitch at each other and get lost. So instead, we stay in the car and drive through Starbucks. Steph and I are always on a mission. Grande soy skinny vanilla latte! Double double! Iced coffee, double Splenda! And then, Kelsea….”Uuuuummm….I think I’ll tryyyy….”
Anyway, with all of this free time in the car, I had the chance to really inspect our Road Atlas, which is a special road atlas since it came from Wal-Mart. I forgot this until I opened to page 1 and found a comprehensive list of all the Wal-Marts in America and Canada and services offered. It takes up 29 whole pages. Not just pages…atlas-sized pages. That is a lot. Texas has the most Wal-Mart, consuming two and a half whole pages and I’m way to car sick to count those and Vermont has the least, with only 4 in the entire state. Pharmacies are pretty common, tire and lube centers so-so and vision centers are quite rare. If you have a vision center, you know you have a great Wal-Mart.
In the 13 hours we just spent driving through Western Texas, New Mexico and Arizona, we’d go 30 miles with nothing and then all of a sudden, there would be a Wal-Mart. It was like an Oasis. They have food and water and Subways and bathrooms, and in a land where you don’t know if you’re going to get to pee in the next 100 miles, you praise God for this Wal-Mart.
Don’t get me wrong; I love Mom and Pop stores. But on a road trip, Wal-Mart saves your life. We even went to Wal-Mart in Santa Fe. Know what they have there? Entire jugs of water for $1.88. I’m tellin’ you. Life-saver.
*Disclaimer: We did actually do some stuff in Santa Fe. Like get burritos and watch a religious parade they have every Sunday after mass. Here is proof:
“I Think This is a Two-Way Road Now”
While in Austin, we met a woman who had recently driven from California to pick up her sister’s dog. 
We should have heeded her warnings, but no. We went through Western Texas. And because we had such a good experience on the back roads into Fredericksburg, we decided to do it again to get to New Mexico. Let me tell you something…there is no point in taking a back road if there is nothing there.
The roads in this part of the country stretch on to nothing but sky. Every 30 minutes or so, you pass either a cow, a house, a road. If it’s a cow, you wonder who it belongs to. If it’s a house, you wonder why in God’s name they live out here and how exactly they get their food. If it’s a road, you wonder where it goes, because there’s nothing in the other direction, either. You measure distance not by exits but by towns, and things get really exciting when you see the wind turbines. But then they just stay there for an hour, and when you get close, you see they move just as slow as you do in 100 degree heat.
Just when I was about to start picking my toe jam for excitement, we passed the most American of American things: a drive-in! Despite growing up in the hills, I’ve never been and got extremely excited when I saw their double feature was “A Night at the Museum II” and “Up.” We said screw the hotel and parked it on the hood of Black Betty under the stars. It had finally reached a cool 77 degrees, and we even had to grab a blanket from the car. Perhaps the netherlands aren’t so bad,” I thought.
Nope. They’re that bad. The next morning, I spent the first six hours in New Mexico thinking “I hate New Mexico.” It’s 110 degrees, and the land is more boring and endless than Texas. Nothing lives out here except two stray cows and weird factories where the government probably does experiments on abductees and cats. It’s the type of place that prompts comments like “I think this is a two-way road now; you might want to get in the other lane” and had me hoping that I didn’t have to pee for the next 100 miles.
However infuriating these lands may be, they contain a tremendous amount of history. New Mexico is one of the oldest inhabited segments of North America, playing host to tribes that disappeared back in the BC era, only to be replaced by another. The lands have seen atomic bombs detonated next to pueblos, UFOs and one by one, have watched people leave as they couldn’t handle the harsh environment.
Knowing this land is that old and still that empty provokes a slight unease in anyone traveling through. As you cross off the miles with nothing but dirt and sky to look at, you’re left with a hwith nothing but your own thoughts and a handful of Spanish radio stations. Knowing it’s that old and still that empty provokes a slight unease in any one traveling through. It’s this loneliness, this knowledge that you’re merely a speck in something so old and vast that provokes the kind of spirituality felt only when confronted with something bigger than yourself.
As we approached Santa Fe, I settled into myself and my frustration subsided. I saw individual leaves on bushes several feet away, thinking that I had double strength contact lenses and then realizing it’s just clean air. Mountains popped up, and they really did look purple, and green shrubs started to dot the wilted grass, and I started to understand why this state’s nickname is the Land of Enchantment.
Top 5 Reasons We Love Fredericksburg
Yesterday, we rolled west out of Austin and into Texas Hill Country. I didn’t even know Texas had hills, but they do, and they are punctuated by peach stands and swaying grass and cows and all the little things that make life enjoyable.
No offense to the other cities, but so far, Fredericksburg has been our favorite. Lots of little things made us fall in love with this town, like catfish skulls hanging from fences and German beer gardens present in a little Texan town, but here we present the top 5 reasons we loved Fredericksburg.
1. Fredericksburg Motel Built by hunters way back when, Debby and George Page now manage the tiny Fredericksburg Motel, located on East Main St. about two minutes from down-town. They have free wi-fi, clean, spacious rooms, HBO, free parking and a little kitchen suite all for around $60 a night. I’d also suggest a jaunt through their garden, where they have real live aloe vera plants. Not just stuff in a bottle. Debby gave us a smidge of one for our drive, because God knows, the way things have gone, one of us is bound to get burned.
2. Nature On my morning run through “The Countryside” (it’s true, they have a sign labeling it so), I had a stare-down with a deer, standing in a grove of trees about 100 feet from the road. Then I ran through a field of wildflowers. Then I passed a trickling creek that was mostly dry-bed, which makes the wildflowers even more remarkable. The air is clean and flowers litter the ground, yet my allergies did not kick in. This place is like magic.
3. FOOD We spend a lot of time eating on this trip, which is ironic since we have no money. But thankfully Fredericksburg offers samples and Texan-sized servings of their varied goods. From pickled carrots to candied pecans to sweet potatoe butter, fudge, burgers and schnitzel, this town has a little of everything. Rustlin’ Robs has a selection of jams, salsas and butters that will leave you rolling out of the store, and, to top everything off, they make cobbler IN A JAR!!! Blackberry, apple, strawberry and, of course, the peach cobbler that puts Fredericksburg on the map. We tried all four, and they did, indeed, taste like cobbler. And yes, they ship.
4. Antiques I have discovered my decorating style on this trip: Rustic Mod (Kate, get ready). A store called Rawhide on the east end of town offers 3 stories of animal heads, cowhides, saddles, leather goods, armoires, heavy wooden tables. It’s shabby chic with an edge and will look great with this lamp I want in red from CB2.
5. Strangers…or the lack there-of Here, people smile and wave when they drive by. Shop keepers are happy to share a stamp, or a good place to eat, and everyone is truly interested in where you’re from and what you’re doing. I left my phone at the hotel, and Debby and George found it and called my step mom to let me know they had it. When I came back, they had a note for us, the “three, great breaths of fresh air,” and offered us any help they could give us along the way. No matter what state we’ve been in, warmth and kindness have become recurring themes throughout this trip. And this Northerner, for one, is beginning to have a little faith.
DAMON!!!!
Oh hey heeey!! We chose your name, Damon, for the title of this post because you epitomized our time in Austin. The city pulses with a fun, quirky energy, and its residents are genuinely kind. Every one. While I poured over the atlas in the front seat of a Blazer, a man stopped on the street to see if I needed help; a store clerk spent 20 minutes mapping out the best vintage shops in Austin; another invited us to a party; the artist who did Stephanie’s tattoo (yes, that happened today..she’ll tell you more about it later), gave us directions to the Apple store.
Thank God Austin was so kind, because we hit a breaking point today. Dehydrated and malnourished (yes, I know I’m being dramatic), I almost passed out on my run. Meanwhile, Stephanie’s computer didn’t work again, she got lost going to the Apple store and stopped at a gas station to ask for directions. Know what they sell at gas stations? Cigarettes. She is on day 3 of not smoking. So, when I returned, nearly falling over, Stephanie was hyperventilating in the corner, and by the time I got in the shower with my water bottle, she’d started screaming in the hotel. Long story short, we each had two more personal blows, and I think Steph cried three times. Kelsea just nodded and smiled at us. Bless her heart.
People like Damon kept us going. Stephanie ran into him at the motel pool after her run and got to chatting about what we’re doing and how we’re doing it. “Oh man,” he cried, “I drove a Chevy Blazer in 97!” He gave us gas money, despite our requests to donate to the cause (few hundred more to go!), but he insisted that he wanted to help us. And on days like today, nothing seems so sweet.
We were supposed to stay in Austin tonight, but under the philosophy that a change of scenery equals a change of luck, we hit the back roads and headed towards Hill Country. The street signs are kind (Drive Friendly, Happy Trails), people really do live on ranches, and every 50 feet, you pass another farmers’ market or peach stand. Even the sun sets slowly, and we are quite content here at the Frederick Motel in Fredericksburg, Texas, a German-Texan smash where great burgers, great tacos and great schnitzel exist under one roof.
Stay tuned tomorrow as we embark on the search for the perfect peach cobbler.
Today, Kelsea Caught on Fire
Last night, Kelsea fell while on a run in Houston, TX and scraped her knee. We were staying with Cathy Chessin, an original trip member, and she was telling Steph and I that she and our mom didn’t actually know each other before the trip, and that she had quit smoking whilst on this very route (Steph’s goal, as well. She’s doing incredibly well and has an arsenal of breathing exercises every time she gets the urge. If she gets cranky, we just jump on her like a spider monkey so she starts to laugh.) Anyway, she’s telling us all of this and Kelsea waltzes in with blood streaming down her leg. “It’s just a scrape,” she said. “I’ll be fiiine.”
The next day, bright and early at the Austin Ronald McDonald House, Kelsea caught on fire. The house is so nice and new they had gas stoves instead of electric. She’s never used a gas stove, apparently, and bent in front of the burner when she lit it. Her hair caught on fire. Thankfully, Steph was there to scream and hit her on the head.
Taking pictures outside the house, Kelsea fell into a giant mud puddle that we had all spent the past five minutes telling each other to avoid. And she didn’t just step in it. Oh, no. She fell over, face first.
At our next stop, the Cathedral of Junk, Kelsea got eaten by some sort of man-sized bug. I’m not really sure how it happened, because all three of us wandered through Vince Hanneman’s backyard, ogling at the three story, church-like structure that he has built over the last 20 years out of 60 tons of junk. We meandered through the same roooms, up the same stairwells and inspected the same old TVs, AOL CDs, barbie dolls, mattresses, bicycles and bottle fences. I, for one, found it very calming, so I’m not sure where Kelsea found these bugs.
(Side note, you really should check this thing out. The Frugal Traveler has a great video, and roadsideamerica.com has an extensive article.)
After the cathedral, we did a little vintage shopping and grabbed some tacos, from which Kelsea emerged unscathed. We grabbed a room in the Austin Motel, a cute, quirky, quintessentially Austin place, where a giant mural of a desert covers an entire wall in our room. She spent the rest of the night unharmed, which is good considering we went on a night swim. That could have had terrible consequences.
We have another day in Austin today, one during which Stephanie is considering getting a tatoo. Stay tuned to see if Kelsea makes it through alive.
The Things They Carried
The things they carried: Styrofoam ice chest, 3 burner coleman stove, box of food, insulated bag w/ bread and graham crackers, 2 guitars, propane tanks, water bottles, jug, rags, 4 small packs, pack full of trip tiks, tour books, tent, camping guides, 2 jackets, 2 various other articles of clothing, 3 denim shirts, 3 pairs of tennis shoes, 1 pr of hiking boots, 2 pairs of flip flops, 2 pairs of jeans/ shorts, pair of sandals, 2 pillows, box of kleenex, 3 hats, bucket for changing oil, bag full of miscellany (first aid, makins tape, string, citronella candles, flashlight, scissors, thread/ needle, hammer, few tools)
(Here’s my question, guys…there were 4 of you. How did you fight over the last poncho?)
The things we’re carrying: 2 Blackberries, 2 Macs, 3 ipods, a billion car chargers and adapters, 2 Coleman coolers, backpack, casserole tins, food box full of non-perishables, 2 umbrellas, 3 ponchos, tent, blow-up queen air mattress, bug spray, spray-on sunscreen, tarp, single-tank propane stove, various cooking supplies, trowel, camping miscellany, one duffle bag per person full of clothes, a pair of overalls, one ball cap, books, stationary for thank you notes, mom’s journal, 3 pillows, 3 pairs of running shoes, GPS navigator, empty Starbucks cups, video camera, laundr
The things they forgot: set of nested pots, laundry bag, 3 slabs of wonder stone, coffee pot, plastic bag of soap, powder, shampoo, toothpaste (did you have toiletries, mom?), poster, 4 cameras, books all over the place and a bag of rocks.
The things we forgot: Half of Stephanie’s wardrobe and Blair’s passport. Steph, have fun getting to Toronto.
