wake early and leave
tom gets ticket
dinner at my place
late night construction (jeff's driving)
home sweet home
ps - we beat the other DU's home
Day Twenty Five: National Heroes (on tour)
Drive to St. Louis
"Check in" at hotel, shower, start drinking
Mingle with DU's, say hey to our chapter
Free Hooters
party (LSU DU with loser room mate)
"Check in" at hotel, shower, start drinking
Mingle with DU's, say hey to our chapter
Free Hooters
party (LSU DU with loser room mate)
Day Twenty Four: A PhD in Kansas Bars
Drive to Kansas City
see Rachael Tindall and ????,
go to the many overpriced bars with bitchy women and rich preppy MD's
Skinny dipping drunk at apartment (climbing down from 2nd floor)
see Rachael Tindall and ????,
go to the many overpriced bars with bitchy women and rich preppy MD's
Skinny dipping drunk at apartment (climbing down from 2nd floor)
Day Twenty One: Gods' Homegrown Veggies
Left gunnison
Drove to Alamosa, ate at #1 green chili place in CO, locked out of car
Great Sand Dunes
CO Springs, ate at Panera
Garden of the Gods
Aunt Kat (aversion to animals, showers)
Sleep
Drove to Alamosa, ate at #1 green chili place in CO, locked out of car
Great Sand Dunes
CO Springs, ate at Panera
Garden of the Gods
Aunt Kat (aversion to animals, showers)
Sleep
Day Twenty Three: Lazy Boulder
Drove to Boulder(saw Kellt O's family, street performer)
Gonna drive to Estes, weather sucked, we all pass out on way to Lee's house
Rent Hot Fuzz, eat dinner, pass out
Gonna drive to Estes, weather sucked, we all pass out on way to Lee's house
Rent Hot Fuzz, eat dinner, pass out
Day Twenty Two: Trampede!!
Air Force Acadamy (trunk bombs, museum, not interested)
Denver (walked around downtown, watched Simpsons, escaped yet another parking ticket, wincoup happy hour, walked around for a bit)
Rebecca Lee (dinner? lost in Golden, Trampede)
Denver (walked around downtown, watched Simpsons, escaped yet another parking ticket, wincoup happy hour, walked around for a bit)
Rebecca Lee (dinner? lost in Golden, Trampede)
Day Twenty: Monumental Tourism
I woke predawn (and by that, I mean I opened my eyes around that time, cause "sleep" could not describe what was going on) and waited for the booth to open so we could pay too much to enter the park and await the coming dawn. We were in luck, however, in that sunrise was magnificent. In addition, there was very little little traffic, so we had full run of the place and got all the views and photos we wanted, took our time driving through the park, and then continued North to Natural Bridges National Monument. Here is a small video of sunrise:
(btw, I am laughing cause no one slept the night before, so "good morning" is kind of a joke)
During the first 30 minute stretch outside of Monument Valley, the ground rose up and a huge expanse of land unfolded in front of my windshield. As we rose out of the mesas onto the plateau, I had this immense sense of belonging. It was overwhelming, the connection I felt with the ground and clouds and sunbeams and greens and browns and tans and blues and reds and reeds and horizon and the imaginary connection between it and the sky and the ground and me...and I am not afraid to admit, I started crying. I don't know exactly what was so sad and so beautiful about what was happening, all I know is that I had to pull away from it, cause I was about to fully break down into a full sob. Nothing wrong with that, it is just that I was still driving, and I had to think about doing that for a minute, and when I came back to what was in front of me, the moment had gone.
I can only describe it as being taken out of perspective. A "disassociated" experience if you will, as if you were playing a video game on flat screen all your life and suddenly you were given a full, wrap around system. Suddenly you have a peripheral that is infinite, yet you can't move for a fear of losing this total, naked view of the world around you. I became an eyeball with no lens, no iris, and no body, just one big pupil, taking it all in and learning so much new information that the brain is bypassed and the soul learns directly what the Universe is teaching...or something like that. You kinda had to be there, and if you have been, then you know; and if you have not, then pray that someday you will.
So we then drove up a cliff to get to Natural Bridges National Monument. It is hard to keep saying "no exaggeration" after every descriptor, but seriously, it was a cliff. The grade was around 10-12%, much of the road was unpaved, and I had my doubts about making it up the 1000 vertical foot climb to the top of the plateau. Luckily, the car is a beast, and she made it up just fine and we were on our way to Bridges. Once there, brochures in hand, we drove to the first two overlooks, which by this time in our trip and where our bodies and minds were in terms of wear and tear, they did not seem so impressive. However, it was impossible to get any kind of scale, considering the Statue of Liberty could fit under the first one we saw, but from half a mile away, the scale became so skewed that even knowing how tall it is was a moot point, cause there was no way to visualize it. Anyhow, we walked down to the third bridge, took pics, took a pause for some needed rest, and then back to the car and off to the Canyonlands.
Anyhow, I couldn't drive anymore, so after we filled up on gas and had lunch at a Subway, Tom took over and led us into the Canyonlands. The approach was surreal: the road follows a gorge bottom that is surrounded by these massive cliffs that seem to go on forever. The landscape takes on an alien feeling, as if we were on some distant planet that has yet to be discovered by any being. Of course, this is how Tom and I would probably describe it. Jeff couldn't describe it if he wanted to. Not that he lacks the artistic ability, he was just sleeping through it all...again. So we make it to the Visitor Center, get a map, and drive around looking at all the tourist spots for a bit. We get out for about an hour and climb around at a dead end for a bit, and I came to realize how easy it was to get lost and confused in that place. We only went a few hundred yards in, on well-used "trails" and on the same rock formation, but get just one formation over, and everything looked the same, and it was near impossible to find the parking lot just a few hundred yards away. That was some pretty scary stuff, luckily we were too tired to do anything more than the drive-thru experience (which I am not proud of, but seriously, give us a break, this trip is getting long!) And once again, to the car and off to Arches National Park.
Here is a small view of Canyonlands:
If my writing seems like it is getting a little halfhearted, I assure you it is only a reflection of the writer's attitude at the time. At this point in our journey, we had visited 18 states in 20 days, hiked and visited around 13 national parks and monuments combined, countless state and national forests, and untold mileage to our retinas in terms of shear volumes of scenery...it is no wonder we were getting a little jaded. This is no more evident than at Arches. We already debated just not going there at all, but after some deliberation we entered the park, and after seeing the first few attractions without having left the car, we decided to get out to see Delicate Arch in all of its iconic familiarity, and we left the park as fast as we had come, walking only 100 feet outside the car to see an attraction: the real American Dream. Anyways, goodbye Utah.
So it was off to Gunnison, CO, where Marie Humenczuk had said she would hook us up with a shower and suggest a place to crash. Well, we ran into trouble right after eating at a Taco John's in Montrose, CO. We were supposed to take 50 into Gunnison, but we missed the turn and continued down 550 for about 30 minutes. Well, we were already running out of daylight when I noticed that the 14,309ft Uncompahgre Peak seemed a lot closer than the last time I was in Gunnison. That's when I asked our driver if he knew where we were, which he did not, and then I realized our mistake, and suddenly our 9pm ETA became 10pm. Well, night came and the mountain roads are taking longer than expected, and we arrive at Marie's nearing 11pm. After showering, we head out to a campsite she suggested, we decide to break the rules and camp at the parking lot (what would they do? Make us leave in the morning?) and we fight the swarm of mosquitoes to set the tents up and pass out happily under a wooden canopy.
(btw, I am laughing cause no one slept the night before, so "good morning" is kind of a joke)
During the first 30 minute stretch outside of Monument Valley, the ground rose up and a huge expanse of land unfolded in front of my windshield. As we rose out of the mesas onto the plateau, I had this immense sense of belonging. It was overwhelming, the connection I felt with the ground and clouds and sunbeams and greens and browns and tans and blues and reds and reeds and horizon and the imaginary connection between it and the sky and the ground and me...and I am not afraid to admit, I started crying. I don't know exactly what was so sad and so beautiful about what was happening, all I know is that I had to pull away from it, cause I was about to fully break down into a full sob. Nothing wrong with that, it is just that I was still driving, and I had to think about doing that for a minute, and when I came back to what was in front of me, the moment had gone.
I can only describe it as being taken out of perspective. A "disassociated" experience if you will, as if you were playing a video game on flat screen all your life and suddenly you were given a full, wrap around system. Suddenly you have a peripheral that is infinite, yet you can't move for a fear of losing this total, naked view of the world around you. I became an eyeball with no lens, no iris, and no body, just one big pupil, taking it all in and learning so much new information that the brain is bypassed and the soul learns directly what the Universe is teaching...or something like that. You kinda had to be there, and if you have been, then you know; and if you have not, then pray that someday you will.
So we then drove up a cliff to get to Natural Bridges National Monument. It is hard to keep saying "no exaggeration" after every descriptor, but seriously, it was a cliff. The grade was around 10-12%, much of the road was unpaved, and I had my doubts about making it up the 1000 vertical foot climb to the top of the plateau. Luckily, the car is a beast, and she made it up just fine and we were on our way to Bridges. Once there, brochures in hand, we drove to the first two overlooks, which by this time in our trip and where our bodies and minds were in terms of wear and tear, they did not seem so impressive. However, it was impossible to get any kind of scale, considering the Statue of Liberty could fit under the first one we saw, but from half a mile away, the scale became so skewed that even knowing how tall it is was a moot point, cause there was no way to visualize it. Anyhow, we walked down to the third bridge, took pics, took a pause for some needed rest, and then back to the car and off to the Canyonlands.
Anyhow, I couldn't drive anymore, so after we filled up on gas and had lunch at a Subway, Tom took over and led us into the Canyonlands. The approach was surreal: the road follows a gorge bottom that is surrounded by these massive cliffs that seem to go on forever. The landscape takes on an alien feeling, as if we were on some distant planet that has yet to be discovered by any being. Of course, this is how Tom and I would probably describe it. Jeff couldn't describe it if he wanted to. Not that he lacks the artistic ability, he was just sleeping through it all...again. So we make it to the Visitor Center, get a map, and drive around looking at all the tourist spots for a bit. We get out for about an hour and climb around at a dead end for a bit, and I came to realize how easy it was to get lost and confused in that place. We only went a few hundred yards in, on well-used "trails" and on the same rock formation, but get just one formation over, and everything looked the same, and it was near impossible to find the parking lot just a few hundred yards away. That was some pretty scary stuff, luckily we were too tired to do anything more than the drive-thru experience (which I am not proud of, but seriously, give us a break, this trip is getting long!) And once again, to the car and off to Arches National Park.
Here is a small view of Canyonlands:
If my writing seems like it is getting a little halfhearted, I assure you it is only a reflection of the writer's attitude at the time. At this point in our journey, we had visited 18 states in 20 days, hiked and visited around 13 national parks and monuments combined, countless state and national forests, and untold mileage to our retinas in terms of shear volumes of scenery...it is no wonder we were getting a little jaded. This is no more evident than at Arches. We already debated just not going there at all, but after some deliberation we entered the park, and after seeing the first few attractions without having left the car, we decided to get out to see Delicate Arch in all of its iconic familiarity, and we left the park as fast as we had come, walking only 100 feet outside the car to see an attraction: the real American Dream. Anyways, goodbye Utah.
So it was off to Gunnison, CO, where Marie Humenczuk had said she would hook us up with a shower and suggest a place to crash. Well, we ran into trouble right after eating at a Taco John's in Montrose, CO. We were supposed to take 50 into Gunnison, but we missed the turn and continued down 550 for about 30 minutes. Well, we were already running out of daylight when I noticed that the 14,309ft Uncompahgre Peak seemed a lot closer than the last time I was in Gunnison. That's when I asked our driver if he knew where we were, which he did not, and then I realized our mistake, and suddenly our 9pm ETA became 10pm. Well, night came and the mountain roads are taking longer than expected, and we arrive at Marie's nearing 11pm. After showering, we head out to a campsite she suggested, we decide to break the rules and camp at the parking lot (what would they do? Make us leave in the morning?) and we fight the swarm of mosquitoes to set the tents up and pass out happily under a wooden canopy.
Day Ninteen: Enriched Loathing Since Las Vegas
I wake up much later than Jeff and Tom. They had attempted to wake me up before (at around 8pm, I feel), but I was having none of it. Anyhow, I wake at 10 and start to move out (after a few chugs of the Jager, of course). I wander around for a bit, realize that although we found the cheap food, I had still not eaten near enough of it to make up for the past week or so. So I watch a round of the Bellagio water works, get a hold of Tom and tell him I will meet them at the food place. No mention of the dogs or the name of the bar, I just said "Tom, I am hungry, wanna get some food?" and he responded "Yeah, we'll meet you there." That's it, we all knew where to meet. Well, I get there first and as they attempt to walk in, one of the greatest things I had ever seen happen: the bar's bouncer told them they had to "finish [their] drinks on the street" before they could come in! Only in Vegas would someone tell you to finish your beer "outside" before getting more in that establishment. Well, we conversed and had our Miller Lights and cheap dogs with the new attractive bartender on shift, bought our roadies and headed out.
Jeff had a mission to make it to the Mirage, so we started what would end up being a trek of epic proportions, leading through numerous casinos, penny slots, beers, rum and cokes, throngs of hot Asian girls, exhaustion, passing out on handrails and finally, sweet, sweet sleep. Who knows what time it was then, but it was definitely today...
So we wake up at 11am, somehow, and have to be out of the room by Noon (well, either 11:30 or Noon, the point is that the Vegas hotels understand if you can't move before 11. Hell, they may not even be up fully by that time!) This was the day that I needed to get an oil change, and we were to drive all the way to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. Well, a Noon start did not help, and slow service at the Jiffy Lube delayed our leaving Vegas till 2:30pm. Heavy construction traffic at the Hoover Dam delayed us even further, till we finally reached a Wendy's in Arizona at around 5pm.
Back up: Tom had barely moved, much less spoken this whole time. He was having a helluva time getting over his hangover in the sunny, blast-furnace temperature conditions of the back seat. Not being able to move around or put any fluids down cause of the constant motion of the car, we could visibly see his unease turn to pain then into agony right there in his private little Hell that was the ride into Arizona.
Anyhow, now that Tom's unforgiving pain had receded into an incessant dull throb, we somehow, unknowingly, entered the Twilight Zone. I am not kidding here. As we entered the line in Wendy's, the three of us shattered beings just stood still and spoke not a word for about 10 minutes. During that time I don't think I had but 5 thoughts go through my head, and none of them were complete, that's for sure. I was in a dazed state, utterly depleted and basically in survival mode: no unnecessary motions, actions, words, or thoughts that did not pertain directly to survival. I have no doubt that my companions were in the same state of mind for, after 10 minutes of standing in the exact same spot in the line, we all seemed to come out of the haze and notice our surroundings. (Later, no one could recall exactly how long it SEEMED like we were in line. Although the timeline works out to 10 minutes to that point, I could have sworn it was either 10 seconds or 2 hours, if those two accounts didn't contradict each other) At this point, I look at the time (again, having no idea how long we have been there), and realize no one has moved. We start to observe the actions of the employees: there seemed to be 3 cleaning the dining area, but at such a rate that the dust could accumulate faster than they could clean it; there were two managers standing behind the counters, also doing nothing; one employee was stocking cups into a front bin that already had around 100 in it; one woman was working the register (if you could call it working); one woman was on the drive-thru; and two men were on the line. Count it: 9 employees in the store, and no one had been served in about 10 minutes. This is no exaggeration, for the line of 10 or so people that were behind us when we had entered was now down to 1 besides ourselves. We would have left earlier, but as I said, we were in no state for rational thought. Around 10 more minutes pass before we get our food (along with a host of other unbelievable employee actions, too many to list even in this huge post), and we leave around 45 minutes after arriving, swearing off Arizona fast food forever.
So now I drive North up to the South Rim main entrance, and the weather and daylight start to turn for the worst. By the time we reach the Visitor Center, get some food and a bathroom break, the sun had begun to set. So we blitz as many outlooks as we can, taking pics and enjoying the mild weather. We don't make it to Lookout Tower before it is pitch black outside. After another small break, we decide that we might as well move on to Monument Valley that night, hoping that they will be open so we can throw out our tents and crash. As we leave the Canyon, it is so dark outside that at one point we stop and turn off all the lights in the car, and can't see our hands in front of our faces. However, the moon is full and the clouds eventually part to reveal a ghastly landscape of pillars mesas and buttes and mountains that loom in the indeterminable distance. I leave Arizona wondering if their motto "God Enriches" is from a better time, before fast food and campers. I am sure this is the case, and try to warm up to the idea of Utah.
Monument Valley is closed, and we park next to another late arriver (or early, depending on how you look at it), and we attempt to sleep in the car. It didn't happen, but that's tomorrow's story.
Jeff had a mission to make it to the Mirage, so we started what would end up being a trek of epic proportions, leading through numerous casinos, penny slots, beers, rum and cokes, throngs of hot Asian girls, exhaustion, passing out on handrails and finally, sweet, sweet sleep. Who knows what time it was then, but it was definitely today...
So we wake up at 11am, somehow, and have to be out of the room by Noon (well, either 11:30 or Noon, the point is that the Vegas hotels understand if you can't move before 11. Hell, they may not even be up fully by that time!) This was the day that I needed to get an oil change, and we were to drive all the way to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. Well, a Noon start did not help, and slow service at the Jiffy Lube delayed our leaving Vegas till 2:30pm. Heavy construction traffic at the Hoover Dam delayed us even further, till we finally reached a Wendy's in Arizona at around 5pm.
Back up: Tom had barely moved, much less spoken this whole time. He was having a helluva time getting over his hangover in the sunny, blast-furnace temperature conditions of the back seat. Not being able to move around or put any fluids down cause of the constant motion of the car, we could visibly see his unease turn to pain then into agony right there in his private little Hell that was the ride into Arizona.
Anyhow, now that Tom's unforgiving pain had receded into an incessant dull throb, we somehow, unknowingly, entered the Twilight Zone. I am not kidding here. As we entered the line in Wendy's, the three of us shattered beings just stood still and spoke not a word for about 10 minutes. During that time I don't think I had but 5 thoughts go through my head, and none of them were complete, that's for sure. I was in a dazed state, utterly depleted and basically in survival mode: no unnecessary motions, actions, words, or thoughts that did not pertain directly to survival. I have no doubt that my companions were in the same state of mind for, after 10 minutes of standing in the exact same spot in the line, we all seemed to come out of the haze and notice our surroundings. (Later, no one could recall exactly how long it SEEMED like we were in line. Although the timeline works out to 10 minutes to that point, I could have sworn it was either 10 seconds or 2 hours, if those two accounts didn't contradict each other) At this point, I look at the time (again, having no idea how long we have been there), and realize no one has moved. We start to observe the actions of the employees: there seemed to be 3 cleaning the dining area, but at such a rate that the dust could accumulate faster than they could clean it; there were two managers standing behind the counters, also doing nothing; one employee was stocking cups into a front bin that already had around 100 in it; one woman was working the register (if you could call it working); one woman was on the drive-thru; and two men were on the line. Count it: 9 employees in the store, and no one had been served in about 10 minutes. This is no exaggeration, for the line of 10 or so people that were behind us when we had entered was now down to 1 besides ourselves. We would have left earlier, but as I said, we were in no state for rational thought. Around 10 more minutes pass before we get our food (along with a host of other unbelievable employee actions, too many to list even in this huge post), and we leave around 45 minutes after arriving, swearing off Arizona fast food forever.
So now I drive North up to the South Rim main entrance, and the weather and daylight start to turn for the worst. By the time we reach the Visitor Center, get some food and a bathroom break, the sun had begun to set. So we blitz as many outlooks as we can, taking pics and enjoying the mild weather. We don't make it to Lookout Tower before it is pitch black outside. After another small break, we decide that we might as well move on to Monument Valley that night, hoping that they will be open so we can throw out our tents and crash. As we leave the Canyon, it is so dark outside that at one point we stop and turn off all the lights in the car, and can't see our hands in front of our faces. However, the moon is full and the clouds eventually part to reveal a ghastly landscape of pillars mesas and buttes and mountains that loom in the indeterminable distance. I leave Arizona wondering if their motto "God Enriches" is from a better time, before fast food and campers. I am sure this is the case, and try to warm up to the idea of Utah.
Monument Valley is closed, and we park next to another late arriver (or early, depending on how you look at it), and we attempt to sleep in the car. It didn't happen, but that's tomorrow's story.
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