Day 6: Rapid City, SD to Sioux Falls, SD, 5 hours

Another early morning start today, but not because we had to travel a long distance. Oh no, we were ready to go solely based on a sign we’d seen bearing (hee hee) these simple words: Bear Country U.S.A.

Oh yeah, I’m talkin’ bout bears. Lots of them. Up close.

Anyone who grew up in SoCal remembers Lion Country Safari, where you drove your own car through free-roaming fields of exotic wild animals. This was the same concept, although instead of lions, tigers and bears (oh my!), the star attractions here were just the bears.

There were other animals too, some native to the region (big horn sheep, elk, mountain lions, bison) and some, not so much. (Dahl sheep, reindeer, arctic wolves—did an Alaskan drive-through park go out of business or something?)

It was feeding time when we got there. The elk and reindeer were face-down in the feeding troughs, which was fine—I’d seen my share of elk up close at the Grand Canyon, and even pet some reindeer in Alaska. What I hadn’t seen in those places were bears!

We scooted through the arctic wolves section, where the wolves were all gnawing on big hunks of meat. They were pretty cool, but just kinda looked like white dogs. Wild dogs eating hunks of raw meat.

Next up were the Dahl sheep and big horn sheep. One big guy was standing atop his trough, and looking around at the flat ground all around. I felt kinda bad for him. This was a sheep used to climbing stuff—he needed some kind of vertical structure to conquer, something taller than his feeding trough.

Then it was on to the main attraction—the bears! We squealed excitedly at our first sighting, a lazy black bear ambling across the road. Little did we know there were about 35 others just around the corner…




The bears were super cool. Even though, technically, they were all black bears, they came in all different colors—black, brown, tan. The keeper told us it’s like us all being human, but having different colored hair. Some looked a little raggedy and worse for the wear, and I wondered if they were hot in their thick coats and the humid South Dakota weather. I was already sweating, even at 8 a.m., without a big furry coat—I could only imagine how the heat affected them.




The bears were in various states of activity; some were out for a morning stroll, some had claimed a spot and were already napping (or maybe they hadn’t yet started their day). It was awesome to be so close to them—you could really see how big they were, how thick and imposing they looked, even just walking around on all four legs. These were black bears, so they weren’t as scary or imposing as grizzly bears, but I wouldn't want to come across any of these guys while hiking or camping.

We stayed in the bear section a long time. The bears were lazy, lolling about, but endlessly fascinating. I don't plan to be that close to a bear again (at least, not outside of a car!), so I made this time count.

Behind the bears were cages of mountain lions, also gnawing on hunks of meat. They were so cool, lithe and tawny, pacing back and forth, growling over the meat. A couple lionesses had cubs with them, and we could see them peeking out of the caves.

Finally, we rolled on to the next enclosure, with the bison. There was one mom and two small calves, breakfasting on tall prairie grass. The little calves were so cute. One kept running off from its mom, who eyed us warily, and snorted at the little calf to return. Protective Mom made us a little nervous, so we snapped a couple more pics, then moved over to the male bison.

He was also eating. We let out a collective gasp at his sheer size—that was one BIG buff! His head alone was humongous, so big I was surprised his body could support it. He must have one strong neck! (You could see his front legs were set further back on his body to help balance him out.) Again, I was amazed to think that an animal who eats only grass could get so large—he must eat a football-sized field of grass a day!




The big bison tolerated our stares and snapping camera for a few minutes before he lifted his head and snorted at us. Suddenly, our car felt very small, and not all that protected—that bison could’ve easily tipped us over and banged us up if he’d wanted to. We heeded his warning, and drove off.

The last section of the “zoo” housed two big, golden grizzly bears. They were gorgeous, busily searching for food, and showing off their massive paws and muscles.

There were also cages of smaller native animals, such as badgers, foxes and even river otters. We passed by the raccoons and skunks quickly (got those in Cali!), stopping briefly to look at the porcupine. Then we got to our favorite exhibit of all—the baby bears!

There must’ve been 20 little critters scampering all around. The baby bears tackled each other, wrestled each other, stealthily attacked each from behind. They were a flurry of activity, never stopping, never slowing down, like a pack of wild kindergartners all hopped up on sugar. They clawed and smacked each other, and were just so cute, I wanted to take one home immediately.

Until…the keeper stopped working long enough to tell us we wouldn’t last 30 seconds before bringing those adorable little teddy bears back.




“They’d tear up the interior of your car before you even got out of the parking lot,” she said, and true enough, they were climbing and biting on her the minute she stood still. They attacked her, and the rake she was holding, swatted at the shovel she carried, and tore out huge clumps of grass from the ground. They never stopped moving, or destroying stuff, and I realized they were only cute from afar.




The animals were great, but we had a whole state to drive across, so we skedaddled out of there. It was time to move on to the other side of South Dakota!

As we drove out of town, I saw a simple, tiny billboard sign that said, “The sheriff is at Wall Drug.” The sign intrigued me, because I'd seen a similar one in Wyoming. I didn’t know what or where Wall Drug was, and couldn’t figure out why the sheriff would be there.

Over the next two hours, we were inundated with Wall Drug signs. They tried luring us in with 5 cent coffee and free ice water. They promised dinosaurs and homemade donuts, pie and ice cream. You could buy Black Hills gold or camping gear. The signs boasted of western wear for all—“We dress everyone in the family, even the horse!” And sometimes, the signs just had a happy little message: Dig it, Wall Drug. Kids love Wall Drug. Something to crow about, Wall Drug. My favorite had a funny little pig wearing sunglasses and said, “Be yourself, Wall Drug.” The signs worked—we couldn’t wait to get there, and see what Wall Drug was really all about.

There were two exits for Wall Drug, and we took the first one because we were too excited to drive another mile. We’d finally pulled off the freeway, and were 10 feet from the parking lot, clapping our hands excitedly. We could see the signs pointing where to park, when suddenly the car ahead of us stopped. I heard a clanging bell, then saw the red lights and the red-and-white barrier go down.

A train crossing! Seriously, we’d driven two hours to get here, and at the last moment, we were thwarted by a TRAIN CROSSING?

Wall Drug--so close, and yet so far! (And is that a dog driving the RV??)

To make matters even worse, the train wasn’t even crossing—it stopped right in front of us, and started filling the tanks from a nearby silo. We couldn’t see how many tanks the train was pulling, but based on all the trains we’d seen across the country so far, it was going to be a LOT. We stared at the Wall Drug parking sign for another minute before finally turning around and heading back to the freeway. Wall Drug was calling us, and we would not be stopped! We got back onto the highway, and took the next exit which was, thankfully, on the other side of the train tracks.

Wall Drug was crazy! I’d envisioned a giant drug store, like the name conjures up, but it was more of a shopping center. Or actually, a shopping town, since there were stores on both sides of the street. They were crazy stores, too, saloons, and souvenir shops, restaurants and jewelry stores. One building even had a tiny little traveler’s chapel, in case you wanted to pray a while or get married (hey, honeymooners get free coffee and donuts!).

The backyard had all sorts of wacky things to take pictures of, so we took full advantage. It was hilarious! Totally random and weird, but funny. I realized that South Dakotans are a smart, resourceful group, very savvy in luring tourists into their state, and getting them to spend lots of money.

Tales of the jackalope (shout out to you, Fera-Schanes'!)

Pioneer Heather, driving the wagon train

Edra, about to be shot in a card game. Cheatin' is not tolerated!

We drove on for a while, until we were surprised by another random sign. This one informed us that we’d just left the Mountain time zone, and entered the Central time zone. Just like that, traveling through the middle of the state, we lost an hour. Must be kinda weird knowing that half your state is in one time zone, while the other half is an hour ahead/behind.

There was nothing in between Rapid City and Wall Drug, or between Wall Drug and…wherever we were. As far as you looked, there was nothing, except tall prairie grass and those monstrous hay bales.

"Look at that," Edra said, moving her head slowly from one side of the car to the other. "Three-hundred and sixty degree view of...nothing!" She was right!

We finally pulled off the highway to eat lunch, stopping at a cute little motel with two picnic tables on the lawn. A gardener was watering the plants and tending to the landscape, and I wondered how he could do all that in jeans and boots—it was blazing hot out there!

Well, I had my answer soon enough. I sent Mark to the table with our lunch, and suddenly, he started screaming about mosquitoes. I told him to calm down, they were just little white flies, not mosquitoes. I sat down beside him, and was about to say, “See?” when five giant mosquitoes attacked my foot! They clomped on like starving people at a buffet. I screamed louder than Mark.

Mark and I both ran off the lawn, still screaming. I completely doused us in Deet, staining my shoes in the process, but I didn't even care (I also got it on the car--took the paint right off the interior!). Edra calmly applied a much smaller bit of organic repellent.

The gardener, who was watering the plants, just stared, not exactly sure what was wrong with us. He probably couldn’t believe we’d sat down there in the first place. But we learned from that mistake—for the rest of the trip, we sat only at tables on gravel, and stayed far, far away from tables sitting on grass!

Our next stop was a couple hours away, in Mitchell, SD. Which happens to be home of the Corn Palace! That’s right, an entire theatre decorated completely in dried corn! I’d been looking forward to this the whole trip… (Yes, I know, I need a life!)




And I was not disappointed! There it was, in all it’s corny glory, giant green spires rising into the sky, and corn-cob murals decorating all the exterior walls. The docent told us that not only is it the only corn palace in the world, it’s also the world’s biggest bird feeder. I totally believed her.

The murals outside change annually, but this year’s was late, due to all the flooding in the Midwest. A local farmer plants and donates 100 acres of corn to the palace to decorate with, but because of the floods and late planting, this year’s harvest was still growing.

There were more murals inside. There were permanent murals, depicting the animals of and life in South Dakota, all in corn. It was so crazy, I almost couldn’t stand it.

There was a souvenir shop in the middle, so I loaded up on goodies, including a genuine corn cob pipe for my snowman-building nieces and nephews. In the midst of my shopping, a giant corn cob (Cornelius!) walked by, and I grabbed him for a quick photo.

Mark tried to chow down on Cornelius.

Because our hotel was an hour away and we weren’t sure any restaurants would be nearby or open, we ate dinner at the Palace. I excitedly bought corn dogs and corn on the cob (I love a theme!) from the snack bar, but was disappointed to find they were both microwaved. (And then I was even more disappointed in myself for being disappointed—was I really expecting a gourmet meal at a theatre made out of corn??)

The next stop was our last of the day, and the one Mark was most looking forward to. It was our hotel, which was not all that exciting, except that it had an indoor waterpark! Mark couldn’t wait to get in that…

As a hotel guest, we got free passes to the waterpark, but they also sell day passes. So the park was filled mostly with locals and their kids trying to escape the heat and have some summer fun.

The waterpark was cool. It had a giant three-story tall water slide, which sent us flying into the water with such force, I worried about wardrobe malfunctions and what felt like a chlorinated nasal enema. Any potentially clogged up nasal passages were cleared with a vengeance!

Mark dug the water slide, and the kid’s pool. The kid’s pool had tethered logs and a rope above them, and Mark spent a good two hours climbing across them. (He only gave up after the ropes blistered his hands.) The logs were wiggly and had big gaps between them, which made it hard to get across. There were also two water cannons manned at all times by other swimmers, so Mark tried making it past before the kids blasted him off.

I noticed something very different about South Dakota. The kids were a lot…rougher. They grow ‘em tough in SD, because these kids weren’t your average playful type. They were tough, out for blood. They knocked Mark down with a gleeful bloodlust. When kids jumped out of the water, they kicked them back in, or kicked him off the sides. I tried to stay out of it and let Mark take care of himself, but when one particular bully shoved Mark head first into the water, I had enough. The kid knew it too, and came over to apologize before I could come yell at him.

But it wasn’t just that kid, it was all the kids. They tried drowning each other, and hit each other constantly. There wasn’t any cooperative play or friendly competition; these kids were just genuinely out to hurt each other. I mean, I grew up with three brothers, and they were always beating the crap out of me, but even with us, the fighting was more bickering than intent to kill. We eventually ended up racing each other or playing together, but I never saw any of that friendly competition with these kids.

I even watched a dad (or uncle?) twist his son’s/nephew’s arm backwards, until the kid cried out in pain. The guy finally get go, and the kid swam off, screaming how mean the man was. So I knew how those kids came by their bad attitudes honestly, and I was profoundly grateful we were just driving through Sioux City.

We stayed in the waterpark a good two hours straight, and Mark was begging for longer, event after they kicked us out. We put in a lot of driving hours, and were still in the same state we’d awoken, albeit on the other side. But we saw lots of cool animals, advertising and even a corn palace, so I deemed it another successful, adventurous day.

Day 5: Denver to Rapid City, SD, 6 hours

Fourth of July! We hit the road early, eager to celebrate Independence Day with our founding father at Mt. Rushmore.

I drove the first shift out of Denver, and boy, was I grateful for a flat road! The Rockies were to our left, rising high into the sky, while on the right, there was only smooth, level land stretched out to the horizon. The landscapes were so contrary, it felt like two different countries, depending on which direction you looked.

The big city and big city freeway were soon behind us, and we returned to the deserted highway. Even though I’m used to big freeways, I’ve come to appreciate the divided two-lane highway, and the huge swath of green grass separating us from the oncoming traffic. Until I hit the open road, I never realized how claustrophobic it is driving so close to so many other cars, or how scary it is to be separated from another five lanes of speeding cars by only a tiny concrete divider.

We saw our next state, Wyoming, before we actually reached it—there, on the hill, a humongous buffalo silhouette visually announced the state change. One minute into Wyoming, we saw actual, real wildlife—a herd of elk running through the open plain. They were incredible, and fast!

Gimme a W for Wyoming!

Wyoming was flat, flat, flat. And empty—we drove long stretches of the highway alone, with nothing but open fields and the occasional deer to keep us company. I began to realize that maybe our country is not as crowded and overrun with people as it feels—it’s starting to remind me of Australia, which has densely populated coastal cities, but nobody in the middle. We were officially heading toward the middle of our country, and the sparse homes supported my theory. We even passed one tiny town whose sign boasted a population of four people!

The absence of roadside attractions and being together 24/7 for five days was taking a toll on our conversational skills. Mark mentioned his pulse, and Edra quizzed him on the different ways to test your pulse. She launched into an in-depth lecture of exactly how and where to do it, and because there was nothing else to do, Mark listened intently.

I listened intently, too, but for a completely different reason.

“Really?” I asked, when Edra paused for a moment. “This is what it’s come to? Discussions on how to find your pulse?” Deep, philosophical conversation this was not, but it made us all laugh.

Things didn’t get much better. We also amused ourselves with a drinking game (don’t worry, it was a kid-friendly game!). We saw a sign for the town of Chugwater, and declared that we must chug water whenever we saw the name again. There were so many signs, we ended up gulping down a bottle of water each in about 15 minutes. We finally stopped when Mark threatened to explode or drown.

Colorado had beautiful rest areas, but Wyoming took a far simpler approach. Instead of restrooms or green grass, they offered up this amenity:




The sign didn’t lie, that’s all there was—a table on the side of the road. No bathrooms or running water, just a table on the side of the road. And this was one of the nicer tables, too—subsequent tables weren't even covered for shade.

We did find one nice rest stop, though. We stopped there for lunch because, well, we hadn’t seen any other hospitable stops for hours, and didn’t know when we’d see another. We seized the opportunity.

The tables were crowded. The inhabitants had an affinity for camouflage clothing, and liked to mix up the various patterns (the ones who bothered to wear shirts).




We’d been staring at a giant storm cloud on the road ahead of us all morning. It was huge, puffy, and ominous, but it seemed far enough away that we didn’t worry about it. Just after lunch, we left Wyoming and crossed over into South Dakota, and found ourselves directly under that cloud. Which meant we also found ourselves in a rain storm, with humongous rain drops pounding the car.

Edra and Mark form the letters for the next state--an S and a D!

There was also an awesome thunderstorm that accompanied the rain. We saw bolts of lightning flash all around us, and at one point, it hit a forest just beside us, and we saw smoke emerging right afterward, probably from striking a tree.

We wound our way up into the Black Hills, which were gorgeous. The fields with massive rolls of hay gave way to thick, luscious forest land, with walls of trees and scrubby bushes filling in the spaces below. The roads were curvy and empty, and I understood why the bikers return here every year; this was a pretty, and fun, road to drive.

Suddenly, we found ourselves smack in the middle of a crazy, tourist-ridden little town. It was filled with cheesy souvenir shops and goofy themed motels. It was like someone smashed together a fake Western Disney town and one thousand gift shops, and threw in a splash of chain restaurants. It reminded me of Pigeon Forge, TN, home of Dollywood, and one of the weirdest places I’ve ever been.

The town had one thing going for it—good signage, which quickly lead us out to the Crazy Horse memorial.

The memorial was gigantic, and we spotted it in the mountain long before we reached it. The minute we pulled up the car, the rain began falling steadily, but we were not to be dissuaded. I popped off photos of each of us in front of the monument—I’d waited a long time to get here, and a little rain wouldn’t slow us down.

Lightning, however, was another story. There were buses you could take to get closer to the monument, but because of the lightning, they were temporarily closed. I was bummed that was as close as we’d get.

What the monument will eventually look like

But there was a movie and museum dedicated to the monument, and that’s where we spent our time. I was surprised that they’d been blasting away at the statue since 1948—it still looked so unfinished. But learning all about the sculptor, Korczak Ziolkowski, was fascinating.

He was an army vet who was young and clean-shaven when he started. By the time he died, he’d turned into a Grizzly Adams-type mountain man who’d built his own log cabin, married, and had 10 children. Seven of those kids are still working on the monument, whose progress relies solely on donations and entrance fees. Ziolkowski refused multi-million dollar federal grants twice, because he was adamant the government would not live up to his vision, or honor Crazy Horse appropriately. I don’t know if the monument will even be finished in my lifetime, but Edra and I vowed to fly back and see it if it is.

We had to move on so we could see the other big mountain carving—Mt. Rushmore! It was about 30 minutes away, and I got more and more excited with each passing mile. We giddily stopped at the intersection into the park, when suddenly Edra shouted, “There it is!” and it was!

Comparing Crazy Horse to Mt. Rushmore is like comparing fish to lemons—you really can’t do it. Both memorialized great leaders, and both evoked great respect and emotion. Crazy Horse was amazing, but Mt. Rushmore—it’s iconic. I spent my whole life seeing that image, those presidents, that mountain, and being there in person (and on the Fourth of July, even!)…it was just was unreal.




We took about a thousand pictures of the sculpture, and with the sculpture. We moved in closer to see it at a different angle, then took more pictures. Mark was crushed that I had no quarters he could feed the telescope, but a nearby mom saved the day by giving him three. He whipped the scope around until the time ran out, then begged me to take photos of him picking the presidents’ noses (why are boys so gross??).

There was a visitor center and movie here, so we checked those out. We found an entrance to the outdoor amphitheatre, which was empty, and much quieter than the noisy viewing area above.

I could’ve stared at the monument forever. But it was the Fourth of July, so we headed down the mountain to see how Rapid City, SD, celebrates.

We passed through a couple more Disneyland-type tourist towns. We saw some random giant statues of JFK, Ronald Reagan and George Bush, a water park, a reptile house, and signs advertising Dances with Wolves movie set tours. We also saw a dead deer, which was not uncommon—we’d seen a lot of roadkill so far. But this one was kind of cool in that it had three vultures sitting on top of it. We doubled-back on the highway and parked on the shoulder to check that out. I know, disgusting, but how often do you see that? We were fascinated.

After a quick dinner, we returned to our hotel so Mark could have a quick swim before the fireworks. Our hotel was directly across the road from where they shot off the fireworks, and all of Rapid City was there to celebrate. The people filled the mall parking lot across from us, and our hotel parking lot. The neighborhood next door was filled with pyros shooting off fireworks. Mark worried they were going to light something on fire or hurt themselves, but I reassured him they wouldn’t. But I might’ve been wrong, since I heard an ambulance approaching, sirens blazing a little while later.

When the fireworks started, they were awesome, and right above us! It was one of the best fireworks displays I’ve ever seen, and it lasted forever.

By the time we finally went to bed, we were completely spent. But we were also feeling happy, patriotic, and in love with this great big country of ours.

Day 4: Moab to Denver, CO 6 hours?

We left Moab early, and it was already hot out there. Made our way through the last of the red cliffs and giant stone walls, just as beautiful today as they were last night.

Colorado appeared an hour later. We hoped Colorado was more colorful than its boring welcome sign!




The dry, barren landscape turned greener with each mile further into Colorado, until we finally felt like we’d really left Utah behind. Gone were the towering, jagged cliffs, which had fascinated us the whole ride out to Moab, replaced by trees and green pastures.

We found a new traveling companion--the Colorado River. We crossed it leaving Moab, and picked it up again somewhere near Palisade, Colorado. It was brown and calm in some places (very few places) but mostly, it was brown and white, running fast, rough rapids crashing through the middle of the river.

By 11 a.m., we were deep into Colorado. I expected to see the hilly terrain and mountains, but I was also surprised to see vineyards. Edra and I were delighted to see the vines meant exactly what we hoped they did--wineries!

Turns out Colorado has a whole wine region, with a healthy number of wineries in the area. We pulled into the first one we saw, and even at 11 a.m., the tasting room was full (side note: most of the oenophiles arrived on bike, and were pedaling to the wineries. How awesome is that!).

Mark parked himself and his iTouch in a chair, and Edra and I bellied up to the...err, tasting area. We sampled a few wines, purchased a bottle, and with a happy buzz, followed some signs to the town’s farmer’s market.

It was sunny and hot outside (I thought we’d left the desert behind us), but it didn’t slow us down. We joined the locals perusing the fruit stands and craft booths. The produce was big and colorful, and the Rainier cherries were incredible! (They were also sold out everywhere).

The vendor who surprised me most was not selling fruit—she was selling Mexican bread! In the middle of Colorado! (I can’t even find good pan dulce in my neighborhood, and there it was, readily available in the Rocky Mountains!)

We made a friend at the fruit stand.

I explored the town a bit more, enjoying the architecture. I also enjoyed this funny site:




That’s right, a drive-through liquor store! In Colorado, you don’t even have to get out of the car to buy booze!

Lunch was at a lovely little rest stop with covered picnic tables and grass, lots of it (Colorado had the best and prettiest rest areas during our trip). It even had a playground, though Mark was too hot to play.

We met up with our friend, the river, again after lunch. It ran directly next to us—the road was level with the river. After a few hours racing beside it, curiosity got the best of us, and we had to see it up close. We stopped at another rest stop, and walked to the water’s edge. Although there were only small rapids there, the river was moving fast. It passed by with alarming speed.

“I wish we could put our feet in it,” Edra said. It was smokin’ hot outside--I wanted to put my whole body in it!

Our next rest stop was not only pretty, it was teeming with wildlife. Well, OK, one wild life, anyway. As Mark and I stretched our legs, we heard squealing and saw a family pointing at the grass. We hurried over and saw a bright green snake slither into the grass. So cool!

Ambling back to the car, we found a little wading pool, fed from the mighty river itself. We rushed back to tell Edra, so she could dunk her feet in.

Edra, however, declined--she didn’t like the slimy (and slippery) ground leading into the pool. But I couldn’t pass it up. I waded in carefully. I know the river is melted snow from the Rockies, so I anticipated cold water. But to say it was cold doesn’t do this water justice--I felt like I waded into someone’s ice chest! My feet were seriously numb after about two minutes in there!



Our next stop was Vail, a sleepy little ski town nestled in to the mountains. It was a ritzy, shi-shi ski town, where the shops and lodges looked pricey. We don’t ski or shop anything but sales, so we went down to the river instead. Mark finally got to do his favorite thing ever--throw rocks into the water.

Only, it looked like a thousand young boys with the same idea had beat him to it--there were no rocks anywhere near the river. Mark improvised and threw sticks instead.

Edra and Mark tested the water here, which was as numbingly cold as it was at the rest stop. But it was gorgeous, and mesmerizing, and we couldn't tear ourselves away. Mark experimented throwing in different-sized sticks, pine cones, anything he could find, to see how far and fast the river took it away.




Our final destination of the day, Denver, was a couple hours away, so it was back on the road. Unfortunately, it was my shift at the wheel, which meant I got to navigate the long, steep, curvy drive through the Rocky Mountains.

I wasn’t worried at first. I passed a deer crossing sign, and didn’t think much of it, until a moment later, Edra called out, “Deer!” She pointed to the road side, where a giant deer was eating. So now, in addition to windy roads, barreling trucks, and speedy, impatient locals breathing down on me, I worried about dodging deer on the highway.

The sharp curves and steep hills freaked me out, and I wanted to ride the brake the whole time. A couple things stopped me—I did not see anyone else’s brake lights, but I did see signs that said, “If you lost your brakes, do not exit here—stay on the highway” and “Runaway truck ramp.” Those freaked me out—it meant people actually did burn out their brakes. So instead, every time I wanted to brake, I downshifted instead. I managed to get through the Rockies safely, but I was a nervous wreck afterwards.

Denver was teeming with people, more than we'd seen in the past three days combined. Most were strolling to a concert in the park; we strolled to dinner instead. The hotel concierge pointed us to what he called an outdoor mall, but was really one long street mobbed with people. There were horse-drawn cabs and pedi-cabs, and in the middle of the road were tables, chairs and colorful pianos (yes, you read that right, pianos!). There were sketch artists drawing caricatures of people, and bikers narrowly avoiding the people spilling in to the street.

Oh, and did I mention there was a convention in town?




Yep, the guys with the funny little hats. We sat near a group of them drinking really big beers.

Finally, at 9 p.m., was the highlight of Mark’s day--swim time. The hotel pool was open until midnight, and I joked I was the only bad parent letting my son swim so late. Turns out I wasn't the only bad parent though, as other families slowly trickled in.

Mark moved toward the hot tub, until he saw a young girl and her dad also head for it.

“And now I’m not going in,” he said, falling back into the pool.

“Why not?” I asked. “Because she’s a girl?”

He nodded.

“What if she was a boy?” I asked.

“Then I wouldn’t care,” Mark said. “I’d go in.”

And so we ended our night with a nice reminder that Mark is still a little boy. A little boy who loves to swim, does not like girls, and who, so far, has been a trooper on this road trip.

Day 3: Grand Canyon to Moab, 5 1/2 hours

The Grand Canyon is so beautiful, and we are having such a good time, that we don’t want to leave. Today, it’s on to Utah.

But first, Mark wanted to hike IN the canyon, not just around the canyon. The ranger told us that 90% of all visitors only spend 3 ½ hours at the Canyon, and less than 10% even go below the rim. Since we got here, Mark’s been itching to get in the canyon, and though I suspect it’s just so he can throw rocks, I still wanted to take him hiking.

We had an almost-6-hour-drive ahead of us, so I told Mark if he wanted to hike, he had to get up early. With a little bit of prodding, he was up and ready to go by 8 a.m.

Below the rim!

We started the Bright Angel trail. I’m not much of a hiker—more of a stroller, and I like a nice, flat path. I did not go willingly into that Canyon, but I did go. ;-)

I also did not go far down into the Canyon. It was already hot, even at 8 a.m., and the hikers were already filling up the path. As were the donkeys…I realized upon seeing the first pile of mule droppings that I needn’t worry about a strenuous hike—the smell alone literally stopped Mark in his tracks.

“Oh my God, what’s that SMELL?” Mark exclaimed. He refused to walk around the mule dung.

“Mule droppings,” I told him. “Just walk around it.”

After much cajoling, and finally just walking away, Mark groaned, jumped over it and followed me down the path. He was still swatting at imaginary flies when he caught up to me.

We hiked down about 10 or 15 minutes, looking for a series of cliff paintings the ranger had told us about. We didn’t find them, and were getting ever closer to the donkeys, so finally we turned back and headed back up the path.

Mark insisted he needed a souvenir from the Grand Canyon, so just before we left, he hit the store. He used up all his souvenir money in one shot, buying a hiking stick. That’s right, he purchased it AFTER our hike, of course!

So, hiking stick in hand, we found Edra and piled in to the car, heading north to Moab, Utah.

It was interesting to drive away from the Canyon, and all its trees. Soon enough, there were no trees, or even bushes, in sight. In fact, there was NOTHING in sight, save for the occasional house or gas station. What there were plenty of was rocks--tons of them, in every shape and color you could imagine!

We drove through all sorts of amazing rock formations--giant rock sculptures jutting toward the sky. The colors differed by region--we saw reds, a gray/black/red swirly pattern, white, and pink. We also passed a little town with a great name--Mexican Hat.

The road had been empty for a long time, so when we saw another small town, we stopped for lunch. And by town, I really mean a conglomeration of one grocery store and seven fast food joints.

The stores were on the Navajo reservation. There was a barbecue stand set up outside the grocery store, so we decided to lunch with the locals. The younger Navajos were dressed similar to us in shorts and t-shirts, but the older folks were not. The old ladies wore bright, flowing dresses with tons of gorgeous turquoise jewelry adorning their arms and ears. We sat in the bakery, next to a display with no fewer than 27 equally brightly (and unnaturally) colored cakes, and took in the sights. It was some good people-watching!

It’s a good thing we stopped, even though we weren’t starving—because we didn’t see another place to eat for three hours. (Luckily, the next food was a shake shack, and we stopped for milkshakes.) That day we realized that we had to stop for food, bathrooms or gasoline whenever we saw them, because we weren’t in the big city any longer, and those amenities weren’t available on every corner.

We finally rolled in to Moab late in the late afternoon. After weighing our options, we headed directly to Arches National Park. The park was eight miles outside of town, and I knew we were close when I saw a sign that said Arches National Park, 2 miles. Then, about 100 feet up the road was another sign, which read Arches National Park, 1 mile. It was the fast, shortest mile I’d ever driven!

We made it!

Arches was still a scorching 100 degrees at 5 p.m. We paid our entrance fee, and were excited to see a new animal crossing sign—this one was for bighorn sheep crossing! (We’d seen elk and deer crossing signs so far.) We gazed up the cliffs but didn’t see any big horns.

We drove up and around to the different formations. There were no trees, no shade, just beautiful red rocks that looked like someone had dropped them randomly all over the land.

Beautiful Arches Park--the late-afternoon light was fantastic

We arrived to the famous Windows arches, which the ranger said was a very easy hike. She was right—it wasn’t strenuous at all. The walk itself was easy, but the sun was beating down, and I drained my water bottle in about five minutes. I watched Edra and Mark climb up to the arch, and I followed them.

Me with Mark's walking stick/pointer

Mark shamed us both by hiking over to the second arch--I think he just wanted to try out his new walking stick. He did an awesome job, and still beat me down the mountain (he cheated--he ran!).

What I was pointing at--Mark at the top of Windows Arch

I just felt lucky to make it back to the car—I felt like I was in the early stages of heatstroke. (Yes, I am dramatic, but as I repeatedly tell my non-believing friends, I am also a delicate flower that wilts in the heat—and damn, was it hot!!!)

We moved on to the other famous arch, the Delicate Arch. I refused to get out of the car (the air conditioning) and back into the heat. I read the brochure aloud, which said this was a strenuous hike.

Edra repeated that the ranger said this was also an easy hike. She and Mark hit the trail, and I grew alarmed when I read the brochure again, which said this was a 2-3 hour hike, and required at least 2 liters of water per person (they each had one tiny water bottle). I grew even more alarmed when I found Mark’s glucose meter in the car, and realized he didn’t even have any snacks with him. He only had four little glucose tabs if he went low that far out on the trail.

I really started freaking then, until I mentally slapped myself. I realized who I was with--Edra, one of my friends with the most common sense. She was not going to hike 3 hours in the blazing sun, dehydrating with each step. And she was with Mark, who barely made it past the mule dung earlier that morning. These were not die-hard risk-takers; I sighed, relieved, when they returned safely 30 minutes later.

We drove on to where we could see the most famous arch in the park, the Delicate Arch. This time Edra refused to leave the car, even when I assured her the view point was a flat 2-minute walk away. I didn’t blame her, though; that sun was burning hot. I told Edra it’s a good thing I didn’t live 100 years ago, and that my family didn’t move west. I don’t think I’d have lasted long, and I know for sure my family would’ve left me for the vultures.

After a couple hours in the park, we headed to our hotel. Mark was thrilled to swim a bit, and I joined him to wash the red dust off. It was still hot outside, even after dark.

We wandered through the little town, and had dinner out, when I remembered we were in the land of the Mormons. The waitress brought us huge schooners of beer, which shocked the family at the neighboring table. Their eyes grew large, and the dad looked horrified. He hurried his family out of there soon after.

Meanwhile, my son cheered me and clinked his soda glass to my schooner. I couldn’t help thinking how the dad would have a seizure had he stayed long enough to witness that!

Day 2: Grand Canyon, no driving

Note: We are safely home, and back to the land of uninterrupted wi-fi. So here are the detailed stories of the rest of the Great American Road Trip Adventure (or, as my friend Jill refers to it, "GARTA").

I was excited to sleep in on my second day of vacation, especially because I hadn’t done so on my first day. Edra, however, had other plans—she wanted to rise with the sun, and see how the light hit the canyon. I wished her well and told her I looked forward to the description sometime later in the day.

But moments after Edra left the room quietly, she returned, excitedly telling me to look out the window. I did, and was surprised to see four giant male elk outside our hotel window! They were HUGE, and they were CLOSE. I literally could have opened the screen and reached out to pet them.



Not that they would have allowed that, I’m sure. They seemed agreeable enough, as long as there was a safe distance between them and any nearby people. I rushed outside with Edra and stood along the canyon edge, with the elk between me and the safety of my room. I marveled at how big they were, especially since they only eat grass—how much grass does an 1800 pound elk have to eat a day to get that big?? A lot, it seems, and they were munching away loudly—you could hear them tearing and crushing the grass from the lawn.

It was fun to watch the early risers pass by, and then glance over and see the elk. Many people were surprised, and some, like the elk, were non-plussed. As long as we kept a healthy distance, the elk tolerated and ignored us. I did see a few incredibly stupid people press their luck and slowly inch closer and closer to photograph the bucks. I finally went inside when I couldn’t take anymore—I didn’t want to see some stupid tourist get stomped to death on my second day of vacation.

I tried to wake Mark to simply look outside the window, but he was having none of it. He grunted and swatted me away, and missed out on the beautiful elk. I didn’t much blame him, and returned to bed for a few more hours of sleep myself.

When we finally arose for the day, we joined a ranger-led history tour. We had a really interesting, passionate Ranger, who taught us all about Frank Harvey, the man who turned the Canyon into a feasible recreation area by supplying the food and building lodges, and about Mary Colter, the woman who designed the lodges. We also learned that we were standing in the very spot the Brady Bunch stood, when they filmed their special Grand Canyon episode. I liked that our history was tempered with a little pop culture.

After the lecture, we ventured over to the Desert View visitor center, where we explored the Watchtower.



There was some good people-watching there, as well as our second wildlife encounter of the day.



We saw a snake slither across the path, and a crowd of similarly deprived city-folk stopped to ooh and ahh and photograph the snake. I watched it head toward a pair of elderly Japanese tourists, and when one of them looked up at me, I motioned to the ground so she saw the oncoming snake. She jumped up, and tapped her companion on the shoulder, pointing toward the snake. The second lady let out a blood-curdling scream, and ran full force outta there. I thought I was gonna bust a gut with laughter, even more so when the lady recovered, and laughed at her own exaggerated reaction. (I think I laughed because I was glad it wasn’t me—I would’ve had the same reaction!)

Mark climbed all 90 steps to the top of the Watchtower. Edra and I admired the view from the lower levels, which I’m pretty sure was similar to the view 90 steps ups.

Next up, we drove to the Geology Museum. We sat in on another lecture, this time about how the Canyon was formed (those Rangers hold some great talks!). The Ranger told us all you have to remember is what Californians say when they first look over the ledge-- “DUDE!” It stands for depositation (layers of soild being deposited on what was once the ocean floor), uplift (of the ocean floor), division (causing the rift between the walls of the canyon) and erosion (how the canyon walls were shaped). It was a lot of good info in one short hour.

Our last program of the night was a star program! The night sky, devoid of light pollution, was clear, bright and awesome--you could see every star in the sky! The Ranger was super knowledgeable, which was lost on the crowd, as soon as the ranger lit up a laser pointer that went all the way to the stars. (It was pretty darn cool—it seriously pointed all the way up to the specific stars!) She pointed out the zodiac signs and other animal-shaped clusters of stars, and told us how ancient civilizations believed they came to take those shapes. It was very cool.

When we pulled into the parking lot after the program, we had one last treat waiting for us--three giant male elk! They were enormous, and even more scary in the dark! I was a little freaked out--when we parked, I insisted we walk the back way, along the rim of the canyon.

“Doesn’t matter,” Edra said wisely. “There’ll probably be some over there, too.”

She was right--there was a male and a female elk munching on the grass outside. The male nodded to me, as if to say, “Move along, there’s nothing to see here.” I nodded back and quickly dropped my head down--I figured no eye contact was less threatening.

So that was it--we started and ended our second day with giant elk. And I have to say, it was pretty awesome.

The Great American Roadtrip Adventure!

We've embarked on our aggressive drive across country. Here's a recap of our first day...

Day 1
Long Beach to Grand Canyon -- 8 hours

We got off to an early start on our adventure--we were on the road by 6 a.m. (Which, for anybody who knows me, is dang near unbelievable.) I honored my vacation bribe/tradition with Mark--I bought him donuts in exchange for getting up peacefully and cooperatively.

The drive to the Grand Canyon took about eight hours, but it didn’t feel that long. We were so happy to start our vacation that it felt like the car was running on excitement instead of gasoline. But just in case, we stopped a few times along the way for gas and to stretch our legs.

It was fun to watch the scenery change as we moved ever closer to the Grand Canyon. I was surprised at all the trees and greenery--this was Arizona after all, and we were in the middle of the desert.

As soon as we arrived at the Canyon, we hit the ground running. We pulled in to the first view point and giddily trekked toward the Canyon. We rounded the corner of the path and suddenly, it took our breath away.

There it was, the Grand Canyon in all its glory. I’d been once before, when I was a kid, but my childhood memories did not serve the Canyon justice.

It was stunning, various layers of sandstone, mudstone, and limestone stained red from oxidized iron. It was huge, vast, colorful. The edge closest to us dropped dangerously, and through the shrubs, you could see the steep drop.

The other side of the canyon seemed so far away, and it was so picture-perfect, it looked fake. It really looked more like a painting than real canyon walls. We just stared and stared at it, mesmerized. We eavesdropped on a ranger explaining how the canyon was formed to some other tourists. We listened to all the different languages spoken around us, and watched all the tourists crowd around the edges and take photos.


On the way back to the car, Mark and Edra started calling out license plate states. I’d printed up a U.S. map for Mark for the trip. Every time he saw a license plate from a different state, he had to color it in. But we should’ve started the game AFTER the Grand Canyon, where every car was from a different state. Mark even found Hawaii, which I was convinced we’d never see! By the end of our first day in the car, he’d colored in 22 states.

We grabbed a quick lunch, then checked in to our room. It was a “partial view” room, though after looking out the window, I realized there was nothing partial about it. It’s about 20 feet from the canyon wall, and looks right into the majestic canyon. We were thrilled.

We dumped our bags off and took off to explore. The first stop was the visitor’s center. We got lots of great info about all the ranger programs, and watched a cool little movie. Afterwards, I strolled down toward the bathrooms, and noticed a crowd of people taking photos of something. I moved in to find out what.

It was this little guy:

I couldn’t tell what he was at first; I thought it was a mouse stuck in the wall or something. Then it dawned on me--it was a little bat! It was our first wildlife sighting.

The visitor center was closing, so we jumped into the car to go back to our hotel. And that’s when we had our second wildlife sighting--this elk, standing on the side of the road! She was gorgeous, and completely unafraid of us. We drove right up next to her and she never even budged. We erupted into another fit of excited giggles.

Then it was on to our next adventure--the sunset. We knew it would be spectacular here, and didn’t want to miss out. We caught a bus to Hopi Point, which we’d been told was the best place to see the show. The bus driver told us it was packed, and that’s when we realized Arizona has different standards for being crowded--there was tons of room left. It was not anywhere near my definition of crowded--which is the sunset in Santorini, when people literally climbed the roofs of all the buildings a good 90 minutes before the sun even went down.




And then our early morning finally caught up with us. We’d planned to attend the ranger program at 8:30, but opted for dinner instead. We filled our water bottles with Colorado River spring water, and headed home. But as were entered the parking lot, Edra spotted another female elk, only five feet away from us! It was dark, but even in the dark she was beautiful. She had no fear of humans either.

It was only 10 p.m., the earliest I’d been to bed in a long time, but considering I’d been up since 4:30 a.m., and had spent eight hours driving and another eight hours exploring the Grand Canyon, I was okay with that.

So, our Great American Roadtrip Adventure is already off to a spectacular start!