75 in a 70

I want you to imagine what you think the drive from Santa Fe, NM to Norman, OK looks like. Just picture it. We have Eastern NM, the Texas Panhandle and Western Oklahoma to imagine here. Come on, just try and picture it. Five bucks says right now you are at a loss for what that looks like. That's because it looks like nothing. Maybe time has erased my memories but all I can remember from that ten hour stretch of driving was flat, brown fields of dust and highway stretching for miles. Surprisingly it wasn't nearly as tedious as driving through South Dakota, but I'll never be able to come up with an explanation as to why.

My only memory comes from halfway through the trip, about an hour outside of Amarillo. As I flew down the highway on cruise control I became aware of flashing police lights behind me. To my dismay as I pulled over to let the car pass he pulled over with me. I had slowed down at this point, obviously, but I didn't remember driving particularly fast. I assumed this would be a matter about a broken taillight or something non-speed related.

The cop, right out of central casting with his cowboy hat and giant donut belly, strolled up to the car and greeted us with a friendly hello. After checking my information he asked me if I knew I was going 75 in a 70 zone. A long period of silence followed and I asked him to repeat that. "Do you realize. That you were going. 75. in a. 70. zone?" As much as I wanted to say "Yes. Yes I do realize that." I instead feigned ignorance and made my case for the Academy Award for acting. "75 in a...you're kidding! I'm so sorry, Officer, really I promise it won't happen again!"

The officer stared at me for awhile, then stared at Ch'nel, then asked me to follow him back to his car to get this settled. Wait, what? No. No that does not sound like a good idea. I asked if I could stay there and he said that in Texas you have to go back to the car. I swear this is not a state rule but as I really have problems disobeying any type of authority I begrudgingly left Ch'nel with a look that said "If he tries to kill me, call the real cops" and followed him back to his car. I stood outside the car while he ran my information again. "Here, have a seat in the car" he said, patting the passenger seat of his cruiser. This was leading no where good, I could tell you that. I sat down on the edge of the seat and followed the old boarding school rules of two feet firmly on the ground at all times when sitting alone with members of the opposite sex. With my feet firmly planted on the sun dried dirt of Texas I was ready to make a run for it if things got ugly. Instead, things just got weird.

"So what are two girls from New Jersey doing in Texas?"
"Cross country road trip"
"Really? You on vacation from school?"
"Nope, we graduated"
"Vacation from work?"
"We don't have jobs yet"
"What's her name *motions to Ch'nel*"
"Ch'nel."
"You two go to school together?"
"Nope"
"Well then what made the two of you decide to go on a trip together"
"We're friends"
The long silence that followed and the hard glare from the officer made me realize exactly why we had been pulled over for doing 75 in a 70. Suddenly it all made sense. Trooper Bob, here, was convinced that we were an interracial lesbian couple and he wanted to check things out for himself. Whether or not this is true, the pure idea of it made me start to laugh.
"So then where did you two meet?"
"*giggle* work."
"I thought you said you didn't have a job"
"*more laughter* Well, I mean, summer job...it's complicated"

After running through what each of us studied in school, what we hoped to do for work once we got back and began life as hard working American citizens and where else we planned to go on our trip Trooper Bob let us off with a warning. I shook his hand and thanked him for being so kind then strolled back to the car chuckling to myself.

I climbed back into the drivers seat with a smile on my face and looked at Ch'nel. Without skipping a beat Ch'nel calmly said "He thought we were interracial lesbians, didn't he." "yep." I answered and drove the car back onto the road. A small bump in an otherwise unremarkable stretch of road, but certainly a memorable one.

Getting Resourceful

We woke up in Colorado Springs not 100% sure on our next move. It was either to Kansas, or New Mexico. We were 96% sure it would be New Mexico but were ready to do an about face should we get the urge.

As Ch'nel slept in I went downstairs for the free hotel breakfast that was required at all hotels we stayed at. As I snacked on my orange juice, bagel and prepackaged Cheerios a couple from Kansas sat down at my table. We discussed how lovely Colorado was, our road trip in general and Kansas. The couple told me of the rolling green hills and happy lifestyle that everyone there gets to live. Maybe Kansas wouldn't be that bad? Perhaps we should head that way. I mentioned that I might be heading that way later in the day and the woman looked appalled. "Oh honey, I love living in Kansas but I would never want to visit. Go to New Mexico!" Well then, apologies to Kansas but it looks like we had a trip to New Mexico to plan.

Ch'nel came downstairs and I mentioned to her that we should probably go to New Mexico rather than Kansas. Ch'nel looked confused and asked when did we ever plan on going to Kansas? Well then. 

With a fairly long ride to Santa Fe ahead of us we had to hit the road. There were some things I was hoping to see in Colorado Springs but ultimately it was just a bump in the road for us, a memory and reminder to come back later. We hit the road and headed due south. The mountains got smaller and the greenery became less and less. While the scenery was still good, it was a low key drive. Two hours out of Colorado Springs we heard the stomach dropping thump thump thump of a flat tire. We pulled over to the shoulder to take a look...yep, definitely flat. 

Learning to change a tire was on our "to-do" list before leaving....it never happened. While we pondered giving it a crack ourselves we decided to call AAA instead. While preparing for AAA we set to work unloading our entire trunk onto the side of the Colorado interstate so that we could get the spare tire out of the back. Camping stove, sleeping bags, pieces of Crazy Horse Memorial, all laying on the side of the road. We could have just set up camp there for the night. 

After about 15 minutes a highway aide vehicle pulled over to the shoulder and had our tire changed in no time. As he screwed on the spare we gave the old tire a looksie. The thing wasn't just punctured, it was destroyed. The interior looked like and animal had gotten stuck inside and clawed his way out. Any hope of a simple repair and return to the road were gone. Once the spare was on we turned around at the next exit and drove to the nearest tire store. 

This doesn't look nearly as impressive as I remember it.

On our way to the tire store I got a phone call from AAA. "We're on the side of the highway and you're not here, are you ok?" DAMN YOU AAA INTERCEPTERS! I think the guy that helped us was just a good samaritan because he got nothing out of it, but I swear there's now a note in my AAA file "Never waits for AAA. Do not help this woman". 

At the tire store we once again unloaded our car to put the spare back in. Our tire was replaced and we were quickly back on the road. Less than a block down the road we realized something was wrong. A grinding sound came from spot where the tire had just been replaced like the tire was rubbing against the frame. We pulled over and realized that the new tire was totally bigger than the other three tires. We went back to the store to get a new tire and were told that it was just an optical illusion. Huh? No, I said, the tire does not fit, the car does not move properly. "It's all in your head". What? "Look at how close the frame is to the tire, it is the wrong size, may we please have the right size?" "The tire is fine, you just have too much stuff in your car". Then the English speaking nephew (son, friend, next door neighbor, let's just go with nephew) came by and said "yea, that tires too big, get them a new one". Well then. Thank you. 

We were back on the road and heading for New Mexico. I don't have much to write about this trip because it was one of the few that I fell asleep on. I think that was the most surprising element of the trip. I imagined before we left that when the other was driving the other would be sleeping. However the silence that results when one person is sleeping makes the ride almost unbearable. There were quick naps that led to nice stretches of silence but I'm pretty certain I was out for a good portion of the ride to New Mexico. Hopefully Chiz was able to amuse herself. 

I woke up as we pulled into a Taos gas station to get, well, gas. We explored the town for a bit, famous for their adobe buildings, but ultimately ended up continuing on. I had almost forgotten just how dark it got in the desert until night closed in around us as we drove on. After what seemed like forever we pulled into Santa Fe and checked into the La Quinta. 

After racing to our room to watch the latest episode of Glee we raced each other to the laundry room. Ch'nel won. I went down to the front desk to get quarters and found that Chiz had cleaned the guy out. You win this round, travel partner. I was able to get a load off in the laundry room but still had a bunch of clothes that I was dying to wash. I decided to go with the spirit of the road trip and do my laundry in the bathtub. With my bar of soap I scrubbed the grime out of my socks and t-shirts. I squeezed them out and hung them up in the bathroom to dry. I flicked on the heat lamp and shut the door. It was up to the laundry gods now. 

I woke up in the morning to find mildly damp socks and crispy t-shirts. A quick drying with the hairdryer worked like a charm and I was able to pack up my laundry. Overall I'd give my system a 6/10. It got the job done, but should only be used as a last resort. After a breakfast of peanut butter and banana pancakes we were off on another marathon car ride. A 10 hour journey across the Texas panhandle and Oklahoma. Waiting at the end for us was our boy Cole and his University of Oklahoma gang. We had no idea what was in store for us, but we were anxious to find out. 

From Every Mountainside

Moab marked the end of our plans. For the rest of our trip home we had a vague idea of where we wanted to go but god help us if we knew how we were going to get there. Our next definite stopping point was Oklahoma. Somehow, someway, we needed to get from Utah to Oklahoma without stabbing ourselves in the face from boredom.

Colorado and the Rocky Mountains were an easy choice for a stopping point along the way. We loaded up the car and headed for Aspen. We figured it would be a quick trip to Aspen and from there we could grab lunch and reassess. The boarder between Utah and Colorado was the most defined state boarder we had seen on the trip. Almost instantly after crossing the state line water began to flow alongside the highway and pine trees grew in increasingly thicker groves. The once straight highway began to weave in and out alongside hills and eventually mountains. The sky was bright blue and the rushing water was crystal clear. I felt outdoorsy and athletic simply for being there...even if I was just sitting in my car.

We pulled into Aspen and began to look around. The town was dead, too late for summer visitors, too early for skiers. We were incredibly out of place walking around in our jeans and sweats. Even on this sleepy weekday afternoon women were bustling in and out of stores like Cartier and Zegna wearing Burberry jackets and fine leather boots. Aspen left me unsettled. It was a town desperate to have an identity but torn between being high end and hippie. I know these fashionably dressed women tell their friends back in Manhattan that they moved West because the East Coast was too stuck up for them, yet they still spend their Octobers desperately searching for the perfect ski jacket that will never see the slopes. Our overpriced roast turkey and avocado sandwiches came from a place dedicated Jerry Garcia. As charming and beautiful as it was I felt myself getting angry at the town, it just seemed a little too fake for a state that prides itself on sticking to the basics of nature.

Chiz and I chose Colorado Springs as our stopping point for the night and plotted a route through the mountains to get us there. It was Ch'nel's turn to drive which turned out to be a life saver because as we drove higher and higher into the mountains I started to experience altitude sickness. The air truly is thinner up there and as more and more breaths were required I definitely felt a bit dizzy. The ground became more and more snow covered as we climbed into the clouds. Incredibly weird considering we had been in the desert that morning. We pulled off when we saw a small settlement of houses in a clearing. A sign told us that it was a ghost town, left over from the mining days. I've spent a lot of time on Wikipedia and ghost towns are one of my favorite subjects to randomly learn about. While this town is visited by plenty of visitors each day along this popular route, I was excited to actually see a ghost town up close.

Standing along the side of the road I was able to follow the path of the road up the mountain and into the clouds. At that moment it hit me, we are going to the top of the Rockies. We are going to drive thousands of feet in the air. This is happening. As Ch'nel began to drive along the narrow twisting road I started gripping the door (heights have never been my thing). The guard rail along the side of the road was a joke, a cruel taunt that one wrong move would be the end. I stared out the window down into the valley at my ghost town, which grew smaller and smaller by the second.

Finally we rounded a curve and the road flattened out. Up ahead it seemed to dip. A small parking lot on the side of the road announced that we had reached Independence Pass. At 12,000 feet in the air it was far from the tallest spot in the Rockies but plenty tall for me. We jumped out and began to take pictures. We gasped for air but never seemed to get enough to satisfy our oxygen craving bodies, definitely one of my Top 5 weirdest feelings ever. A man traveling the opposite way pulled in two minutes after us and very kindly snapped a quick picture of us before we all ran back to our cars. 
Ch'nel was still in desert mode and was not prepared for the mountain top.

We headed back down the mountain and continued along our way. I have some great videos to post of that part of the trip but Blogger won't let me post them right now. I'll make them a separate entry later.

We pulled into our the Colorado Springs Howard Johnson later that night and checked into our room. The desk clerk had her family in the lobby, each of them trying to coax a smile out of their 13 year old sister/daughter who was heading off to a school dance. The 13 year old stood by the lobby fireplace for pictures claiming that, as she is 13 and all, she had nothing to smile about. We got our room key and the clerk smiled and said she had upgraded us to a mountain view room. We felt special although when we woke up in the morning we would realize that the entire city is surrounded by mountains and really all of the rooms had a mountain view.

We grabbed our bags from the car, a task we had gotten quite good at, and were just about to head to our room when disaster struck. My camera battery had died earlier in the day and I was itching to charge it up as soon as possible. I dug around in the car looking for it but couldn't find it. What followed was our biggest fight of the entire trip.

Me: Ch'nel, do you have the camera charger?
Chiz: Nope.
Me: I...think you do.
Chiz: I don't
Me: I think you have it
Chiz: I. Don't. Have. It.
Me: I. Think. You. Oh wait, here it is.

What lasted no more than a minute almost ended the trip. To this day we still laugh about the biggest fight we've ever gotten into. Luckily the Golden Oreos were not lost and we settled in for a night of showers, Oreos and cable television. Just another day of memories to last as lifetime.

Back in Action-Moab, UT

Ch'nel and I had dinner tonight with some friends of the blog (shout out to the Weise Family!). This dinner was originally supposed to take place a year and a half ago when we got back from our trip. We were going to relive our favorite moments and bask in the glory of being the adventurers that we were. Much like this blog, we dropped the ball on it. Now, 15 months after we came home, we finally got our act together. As we rehashed broken turn signals and Mt Rushmore I was flooded with the excitement that writing the blogs used to give me. I realized I have so much more to talk about, so much more that I've never shared with anyone who hasn't asked about it. I also realized that I'm losing those memories. I still remember each place we went but I'm starting to forget the looks on people's faces, the casual comments from fellow travelers and the feel of a 10 hour ride across Texas and Oklahoma. I'm going to try and get everything down. These final entries will be different. They're going to lack the fine detail that the original ones had. I'm not going to lie...I might lie in some of them. I've made up a couple of memories over the year and I apologize if those come out. I'm not done with our story and I want to tell it.

Perhaps the strangest thing about writing over a year later is realizing how little has changed. Our great trip West became a great trip East which eventually led us home. Where we stayed. Chiz and I still live at home, we still work at the same office where we met five years ago. I even sold my soul for some health insurance and am working full time. Chiz is holding onto her soul with hopes of selling it to a public health related job in the very near future. I'm happy with my situation, but long for those forty days on the road. My job is far from boring, there's always something going on, but my entire world is contained within four roads. Those vast stretches of highway and endless canyons are a memory now, occasionally popping back into my life on documentaries and calendars. There's nothing to do now but save up my ample vacation time and know that I'll get back to that life soon, if only for short periods of time. For now I will blog.

When I checked in with the blog to see where I left off I was surprised to see it was at Moab, UT. Arches National Park, located in Moab, is much like the Grand Canyon in that I cannot accurately describe it. Never in my life have I felt more disconnected from what I previously accepted as normal.

Chiz and I started the day at the local mechanic shop. Our taillight had burnt out and we needed it fixed. After dropping it off we walked along the road into town to get breakfast. It was mid-October yet the air was dry and warm. The sun bounced off of the red rocks surrounding the town and I suddenly realized this was the first time I had truly seen the desert. Up until now everything had seemed like a bigger version of something I had already seen back east. The Rockies were giant versions of the Appalachians. The Redwoods were the woods behind my elementary school only on steroids. The Pacific Ocean was a Snooki-less Seaside Heights. Kicking up the red dust along the quiet highway brought no parallels. The blinding glare of the sun hitting dirt and sand reminded me of nothing. I was experiencing something completely and totally new.

We found a breakfast place with ease and sat down for our usual pancake breakfast. It was the offseason in the tourist town so the restaurant was quiet and filled with locals. The town sheriff, complete with ten-gallon hat sat down at the table perpendicular to us and proceeded to eat his meal in silence, never taking his eyes off of us. A few tables over some other tourists argued with the waitress over how many cinnamon rolls they thought they could eat. They soon regretted their fight when she brought over a roll for each of them, each the size of a birthday cake. After eating our pancakes (which we declared fine, nothing special though) we walked back up the road to get the car. The mechanic hadn't left his desk since we had left and it was clear the car wasn't ready. He jumped up when he saw us and quickly went to go fix the light. Thanks, buddy. We got our car back and headed down the road to Arches National Park, ready to break out the National Park Pass one last time.

Arches visitor center was small, but informative. While others tended to focus on how parks have changed over the last 150 years or so, this visitor center brought you back millions of years to the parks creation. As I touched pieces of two million year old rock as well as rocks that had fallen from the moon I realized that this was going to be a special place. A place that defies time and space.

The visitor center film strip, my favorite part of any visitor center, also took a different turn that most film strips (ok fine, it's not actually a film strip...but I like that image better). Whereas most parks focused on the parks history and infinite future, Arches also focused on former arches and collapsed rock formations. A magnificent arch the size of a football field was shown as well as footage from the day it collapsed. A giant of nature, brought down by a breeze. The video ended with the narrator imploring us to go out into the park immediately because you never know when another arch might fall. It was both sobering and invigorating at the same time.

We got back in the car and drove up the road into the park with a sense of urgency. As the visitors center dropped out of sight we were on our own, slowly making our way through the most breath taking rock formations I could ever imagine.

Balanced Rock and the collapsed mini-Balanced Rock provided really interesting insight into the National Parks system. As the former Balanced Rock proves, these formations don't last forever. One day Balanced Rock will fall off of it's precarious perch, crashing down on whatever, or whomever, stands beneath it. Yet there are no safety rails, no signs telling you to stay away from the rock. In each of the parks we visited it always amazed me how they took the smallest safety efforts. Guard rails to keep you from steep edges, warning signs for difficult trails. Otherwise you're on your own, let nature take it's course, God help you if you're in it's way. Ch'nel and I dashed around the base of the rock, almost daring it to fall on us. From every different angle it looked even more unsteady, even closer to doom. While we could have stayed and admired all day, we had a lot more to get through. So we got back in our car and soldiered on, off to count the arches.

Our first arch was reached by a seemingly short set of stairs carved into the stone. These stairs were deceptively steep and Chiz and I were left winded at the top of them.

 Another trail led down the the second arch....we settled for viewing it from afar.

A crack in the arch served as another reminder to the fragility of the park. A reminder that what took millions of years to form will one day take a second to the destroy.

We carried on until reaching the stopping point for Delicate Arch, the symbol of Utah. The viewing platform for delicate arch can only be reached via a hike through various terrains. The arch itself takes an additional hike out across the sandstone, only seasoned hikers are recommended to visit. The long hike up gives you a good reason to stop at the top and enjoy the scenery. From the arch, which is impressive, to the wide expanse of stone rolling out in front of you, it's all a sight to see.

 Says the woman taking this picture "suck in your gut, you'll look 10 years younger" Um, I don't want to look 12, but thanks (holy moly, was I really 22 in this picture? It doesn't matter that I was turning 23 in 3 days when this was taken...22 sounds young)

New Friend.

We moved on through the park stopping at various sites, gaping for awhile then continuing on. We expected to do the same at Sand Dune Arch but instead found ourselves relaxing in a narrow sand floored cavern for what seemed like hours. After following the path up a stone pathway and through a narrow entrance we came to Sand Dune Arch. At the suggestion of the Indian family already playing on the arch we took off our shoes and felt the smooth sand between our toes. The sand was so fine it was like walking on a bed covered in silk sheets. We clambered up and down the rocks and cartwheeled in the sand as if this were our playground and we were having the most exotic recess of our lives.

Chiz and I made sand angels and lay in the sand contemplating just how we got to this moment. During our moment of zen the Indian grandmother behind us noticed she had lost her barrette and shouted "SHEET!" leaving us in convulsions of giggles. We would have moved into Sand Dune arch if given the chance but we had the nagging words of the visitor center video stuck in the back of our minds "Go see Landscape Arch before it's too late". It was getting late and we needed to get over there before dusk.

We trekked down to Landscape Arch, waving to different friends we made along the way. A National Park is the ultimate equalizer. No one owns the park, no one is a townie, no one is an outsider. Everyone who is a visitor to the park on that day becomes part of a pack. You see everyone over and over again, but not in an annoying DisneyWorld way, but rather in a familial "we're on this trip together" way. Would I like to travel in the same car as these people? Not on my life. But I did enjoy running into "friends" along the way.

When we reached Landscape Arch we marveled at it's delicateness. On any given day a strong wind could snap it in two yet it stands strong and majestic. We stood for pictures with a somber mood. A knowledge that we might one day show these pictures to our children or grandchildren with the message that we were there when the arch was still standing. There are no guarantees that we will be able to take our children back to that spot to see that arch. This is really a fact of life for anything. Nothing is guaranteed to be there. The Arch just served as a tangible reminder.