Before the Wedding

April in Tallahassee is pretty, pretty nice. The mornings are cool and damp and the real heat hasn’t quite settled in yet. A great month for a wedding—Hillary’s and Bruno’s that is. Dave and I arrived early in the week, to spend some time with our only daughter and future son-in-law. Time to chill a bit before the big day—and help put the couple at ease (or at least try to!).

Integration, Sandy Proctor, 2004.

Lizzie, Oscar and Dave ham it up before class.

Our first couple of days were well spent. We explored FSU, attended one of Hillary’s Abnormal Psych lectures (eye-opening), drank Lucky Goat Coffee (so GOOD) and visited Proof Brewing Co. 

St Marks Lighthouse

However, by third day, Dave and I decided it might be helpful if we disappeared for a bit. So we made the short 16-mile drive to St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge for a visit.

This refuge was established in 1931 and is one of the oldest in the National Refuge system. It’s initial purpose was to provide a winter home for migratory birds. It encompasses over 70,000 acres, and 43 miles of gulf shoreline. Our plan was to visit the lighthouse, followed by a five mile walk along some of the salt marshes and bayous in search of wildlife. 

I’m not gonna stop him…

On the way to St. Marks Lighthouse, Dave saw a rather large gator lounging in the middle of a sandy road. We parked and crept towards him (not too close) to take a photo. He wasn't interested in us, it was the warmth of the early morning sun he was after. It still freaked me out. Later, Hillary told us the way to get away from an alligator is to run in a zig-zagging motion. It seems that an alligator can only move forward, not diagonally. Good to know.

Southern Bald Eagle

Within minutes we spotted a bald eagle sitting stoically in the pines. Would have been a good time to have a zoom lens—which we did not have.

Dave on the shore.

The lighthouse and path along the shoreline was rugged and full of life. Hundreds of tiny crabs scattered in all directions with every footstep. The beach was narrow and overlooked a large bay. To the south, nothing but ocean, its immensity giving us both an overwhelming feeling of insignificance. 

We headed back to the Stoney Bayou pools in search of alligators and a lone pink flamingo, which had relocated in the marsh, following Hurricane Michael. The pathway ran along dikes built between man-made pools, once used for sea salt production during the Civil War. Eagles, osprey, and waterfowl were abundant.

Dave, where did you put the zoom lens????

We did end up seeing the lone pink flamingo (definitely a Where’s Waldo moment), along with at least seven alligators. Not bad for a day in the swamp.

Good news! The bug spray we purchased at the visitor’s center was very effective. Unfortunately, it‘s oiliness combined with abundant sunshine turned us both a lovely shade of red. Undaunted, we capped the day with another visit to Proof for some EightFive-O and talked about the crazy, joyous days to come.

It was the perfect way to unwind prior to the big wind-up.

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Space and Time

Lost in space. That best describes how one feels in Monument Valley. It took us less than two hours to travel from Canyon de Chelley’s deep canyons to Monument Valley’s buttes and spires. John Wayne country, indeed. From memories of Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote, to The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, we felt as though we were entering a giant movie set. Amazing.

Artist’s Point

Monument Valley is really not a valley. It is a flat, that’s interrupted by towering formations formed though the endless erosion by water, wind and ice. Did I just mention wind? The day we visited, was really windy, with gusts clocking in at 30-40 mph. 

The best way to see the area is to drive the 17-mile dirt road that loops around Rain God Mesa. A four-wheel drive is recommended, but Steve took the challenge (and won) with his SUV. There were no crowds or lines. Just wind. My understanding is that this road gets quite backed-up in the spring (a sea of cars) and that flash floods can occur from June-August. We really got lucky with our weather, as the offseason is often unpredictable.

A glimpse of Valley Road.

While pelted by sand, we captured the Three Sisters monument

The color and light was in Monument Valley is something to behold. Strong winds kicked up a lot of sand, creating a painterly effect on many of the photos we took. No enhancements needed. We stopped along the many pull-outs to take photos and marveled at the vast beauty of the Navajo nation.

John Ford’s Point

Stagecoach, 1939

John Ford’s Point is a well-known and aptly named. He used this particular location in many of his films. Post adventure, Dave and I watched Stagecoach, where Ford used the iconic vista at the beginning and the end of the film. To us, there was a bit of an issue with that decision. The stagecoach was making the journey from Tanto, Arizona to Lordsburg, New Mexico. Seems like they didn’t make much progress. Just saying…

Late afternoon view from Lee Cly Trail

Click, click, click. The sunrise view from everyone’s balcony.

The drive took up most of the afternoon. Our evening was spent dining on more frybread at The View motel. We awoke to a spectacular sunrise, courtesy of our room’s balcony. What a view! The steady click of cameras made it abundantly clear that we were not alone in this endeavor.

Early morning view from Wild Cat Trail.

Before departing, Julie suggested a quick hike along the Wild Cat Trail that ambles towards Mitten Butte. It was chilly, but also crisp, clear and blessedly still. The sand along the trail was pristine, and untouched, like the beach of an ocean, just washed by the tide.

The sands of time.

By 3pm, we were back in Phoenix. All of us felt strangely disoriented, as if we had been gone for much longer than two days. In hindsight, I’m thinking that our adventure was a great form of time travel, simplified.

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Time and Space

A time machine. That’s what it was. Imagine driving for four hours and finding yourself in world of canyons and mesas. Looking down one day and up the next. And, by the end of the two-day adventure feeling like you have been gone a very, very long time. 

Peering down into the one of several canyons

We left early on a Friday with our good friends Steve and Julie, and arrived in Flagstaff shortly after sunrise. It was a crisp and clear November day, the kind tourists dream about. After driving for what seemed forever through desolate reservation land, we reached our first destination. Just past the town of Chinle, is Canyon de Chelley, an Arizona National monument and part of the Navajo Nation. The land’s rich history spans close to 5,000 years, from the early Anasazi dwellers to the Navajo families that still live there today.

Steve, Julie and Judy taking in the sights.

Navajo farm deep in the canyon.

Ahhh, the benefits of visiting off-season. No crowds. Plus, we got lucky with the weather. That afternoon was spent peering into giant crevasses at ancient ruins, tidy farms, and geological wonders. Deep canyons cut by streams from the headwaters of the Chuska River.

Antelope House Ruins

Hiking White House Ruin trail provided us with a chance to look up and experience how it must have felt to live within the steep canyon walls.

White House trail, Canyon de Chelley.

White House Ruins, Canyon de Chelley

Pictograph, White House Ruins.

That evening, we stayed at Thunderbird Lodge—the only accommodation located within the park’s boundaries. It’s cafeteria is located in the trading post’s original building. We dined on posole, chile verde, and Navajo burgers. That’s where Julie and I discovered how much we really, really liked fry bread. Satiated, we turned in, looking forward to the next day’s adventure in John Wayne (or Buster Scruggs) country.

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A Bump in the Road

Smoke and haze. B.C. is on fire again. After a week of poor air and visibility, we finally got a bit of a break. The wind turned to the east and started blowing the smoke back from where it came. We also got a little rain. Yay! The end result was a couple of days with fairly clear, clean air. Perfect for taking a bike ride on the Cascade Valley Trail in Banff.

Cascade Valley Trailhead

One of several ponds along our path to the river.

The rain had softened the trail a bit. It was kind of like biking through a sandy, rocky wash. Every pedal stroke seemed to take more and more effort. Prior to the bridge the trail wasn't bad—a wide, moderate climb.

The new bridge over the Cascade River, replacing the one destroyed in the 2013 flood.

Cascade River

But once across the Cascade river, the trail turned rocky. Whine. I fondly remembered the last time we were slogging up the rocks when we turned back and saw a mother grizzly and her cub cross the road. That had been my personal turnaround point. Oh, and then the time Dave biked to the top of the a hill and after catching his breath, looked up and surprised a giant black bear. No such encounters this time.

Rest stop on the trail.

Heading back, we enjoyed a quick lunch on the bridge, then continued with a fast, bumpy return to the Jeep. A nice reward for the effort.

Looking back, all I can say is, “Thank goodness for Motrin.”

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