Seconds With Steff

With five or so hours of sleep, I woke 15 minutes before my alarm so I could capitalize on the price I paid for this cabin and watch the sunrise.  And it was spectacular … I honestly don’t think I have watched the sunrise since the morning after senior prom on Wading River Beach from the lifeguard tower … no joke.

But then it was time to get moving …  

Hunter and I got another less-than-spectacular breakfast, but at least it was free, filled up our Camelbaks, and after watching a woman quietly raise the Navajo and American flags for the day, left Monument Valley.

I have to say, I was sad to leave. I mean, as my heart, I’m a it was there, I looked it, I saw it, I’m good kind of people.  But I really just did not want to leave. I wanted to stay longer, explore more, walk around … feel it.b Yes, there is a level of commercialism …100% absolutely, and quite frankly, good for them!, but there’s also a level of … dare I say … spiritualism around it.  Especially speaking with our tour guide and his sister yesterday. They are definitively people who are not wealthy. They still live on the tribal land inside of Monument Valley. They do not have running water or electricity. They live very simply and economically. It’s a way of life that I cannot even begin to fathom.  Their ancestry and heritage mean everything and they have to fight to even keep that alive.  Even the word Navajo, Tim explained, means nothing.  They are Diné, and his name is not Tim but that is how the government identifies him.  It was all fascinating and beautiful and sad at the same time.

Have grown up on Long Island I can pronounce pretty much any Native American term, spelt in English; however, it was going to college at the foothills of the Appalachian mountains that gave me an appreciation for the culture. And it was meeting Mary Lou Awiatka during grad school who really gave me an education. I told Tim of MaryLou and how his sister reminded me of her.  I was so lucky to be able to spend a few days with her back in college.  When I told him that at the time she had written a book on Selu, he said, “ahhhh.” He understood. And that was all I had to say.  So no, I did not want to leave Monument Valley.

However, when we did leave Monument Valley, we did so on a scenic byway called Trail of the Ancients. We’re going to be driving quite a few scenic byways during this vacation. We’ve already driven the Zion Scenic Byway, but funnily, this conversation recently came up with Frank—that America has roads that are deemed scenic byways and highways, and even All-American Roads, which will come up again in a few days. Growing up, I distinctly remember doing a road trip with my parents and driving the Blue Ridge Parkway, not understanding where we were going or why they were making a big deal about it. But the Blue Ridge Parkway is an All-American Road. Also, as a teenager, my parents moved to Virginia, and I fell in love with a road called Colonial Parkway that is also an All-American Road. And it is the most gorgeous road ever ever ever ever.

And at about eight miles down the road Hunter got his picture taken where Forest stopped running! And thankfully the tribe of Italians that were there allowed us to cut in front of them because they were taking thousands of pictures … No, I’m not joking.

From there, we stopped in a blink and you’ll miss it town called Mexican Hat that has a rock formation shaped as – you guessed it a Mexican hat. We could’ve made it right after that to go to Valley of the Gods, but it really would’ve been too much time to see more rock formations and although I love it… It wasn’t on a high priority list for me.

However, the next thing we were going to do sounded to me like a super fun idea and that was to drive the Moki Dugway! Now, I’ve driven The Sidewinder on the way to Oatman – 191 switchbacks, no guardrails, and random donkeys in the road and I traversed those two ungodly mountains heading south on Pacific Coast Highway (not to mention the entire PCH) so how bad could the Moki Dugway be?

I planned and researched and looked at maps and watched YouTube and it all looked very doable – About four switchbacks but long goes in between.  I am here to say – No…No No No and NOOOOOO…

As Hunter and I were driving straight towards a wall of mountain I realized we would be scaling the mountain.  Literally switching up the side of the mountain.  Let’s just say when it started I completely stopped the car, looked at Hunter, and I said, “oh hell no!” I went five miles an hour on the wrong side of the road, the entire way. I am entirely grateful that another car never came in the opposite direction. I have no idea what it looks like, because I did not look out my window, but kept my eyes on the road immediately in front of me, but according to Hunter, “I can see the whole world from up here” and “don’t look down” and “be careful.”  On the last switchback, I just started crying.  NEVER EVER AGAIN!

We stopped at Natural Bridges National Monument, where I completely missed one of the viewpoints — and honestly, I’m not even sure I saw one of the actual natural bridges. But the one I did see was very pretty. It was a fine stop. I didn’t waste a lot of time, but it was… fine.

Now, our next stop was one I was really looking forward to: House on Fire. I knew we wouldn’t get there during the magic hour when the rocks actually look “on fire,” but it was supposed to be a quick 40 minute out and back. I had done so much research. My handy AllTrails told me exactly where to park, how to get to the trailhead, and I even pre-bought BLM passes for a totally different trail just in case. So we get there. There’s a sign on the main road — not a big one, but enough. I turn off. No trailhead marker. No secondary parking lot that AllTrails swore existed. I’m suspicious. I say to Hunter, “Let’s go back to the main road, make a left, and see if the other side has the same sign.” It does. OK, cool. We’re in the right spot. We drive down the road 0.3 miles. No parking lot. Again. And I don’t think I’ve missed an entire parking lot. Hunter didn’t miss it either. We go off-roading for a couple miles…still nothing. I pause and bring up AllTrails like we’re setting out on the hike, and we are nowhere near the trailhead. So we turn around. I’m now literally driving on the trail trying to find the trailhead. Turns out AllTrails considers a “parking lot” to be a pulloff big enough for two cars to align parallel to the trail. I didn’t even realize that’s what they meant until Hunter and I parked in the main lot and walked a quarter mile down a hill — which doesn’t sound far, except you know you’re going to have to walk up that hill at the end. But again, it’s only a 20-minute hike. No big deal. So we start the hike. And we go. And go. And go. And go. And go. It is ungodly damn hot. It’s taking forever. Forty-five minutes later, we finally get there. And yes — there it is: House on Fire…not really. I’ll also post a photo of what it should look like when the light hits it just right (obviously not mine).

On the way back, I spot a trail to the side of the riverbed. Hunter and I had walked the riverbed in which used to be part of an inland ocean. All those striations in the rock? Layers of sediment from water evaporation. So we had been navigating this prehistoric riverbed watching our steps to avoid twisting ankles. It took forever. And then — of course — I see a path on the side of the riverbed. And yes, you guessed it: 20 minutes out. Just super.

We leave House on Fire and make a left out of the parking lot — opposite direction from how we came — and suddenly my live map tells me I’m going the wrong way. I haven’t had connectivity in hours, but I’m so tired from that hike, I just listen to it and turn around. Eight minutes later, I make a right, thinking maybe I’ve forgotten how to get to Moab. Oh no. No, no, no. Hunter goes, “We’re back at Natural Bridges.” Yep. The directions brought us back to Natural Bridges. It hadn’t known where we were because we hadn’t had connectivity. So we lost about 15 minutes.

Back when we were in Belly of the Dragon, a woman at the end of the trail told us — emphatically — that when we got to Blanding, we had to go to The Edge of the Cedars Museum. I wrote it down immediately. And we went… not knowing a thing and giving up a dinosaur museum. And it was so cool. I had no idea what we were walking into, but I could’ve spent the whole day there. It’s a state historical site of ancient Puebloan people, including an actual excavated kiva you can climb down into — which, of course, we did. We started with a 15-minute video that was actually good. We sat through the whole thing. When I went to stand up with 30 seconds to go, Hunter said, “Wait till the end.”  There’s a massive receptacle of ancient pottery and artifacts.  The showcase piece is a shawl made of macaw feathers, which is not only stunning, but also proves there was trade between people in Utah and South America in 600 A.D.

Next stop: Newspaper Rock State Historical Monument.

During COVID, when Hunter was in 8th grade and school was basically an hour a week, I spent every weekend prepping lessons. Once I got into a groove, he studied a different state every day and went on virtual field trips. When we got to Utah, he visited Newspaper Rock and learned about petroglyphs for the first time — and later got to see them in person along Route 66. So, as soon as I realized this was on our route, there was no stopping us, and it was majorly out of the way, but I was super excited.  And when Hunter saw it he said, “Wow, they’re so big and solid.”

Quick pull off for Wilson Arch on the side of the road.

Then we headed to Hole ‘N the Rock — this wacky gift shop/museum/tourist trap/zoo situation. We were never walking into that zoo. We only do conservancies. It closed at 5:00. We got there at 5:04.

Honestly? Not a problem. I was exhausted.  The original plan was to drop off laundry at a fluff and fold and hit the Delicate Arch hike around 4:00. I was nervous about this one — it’s only a mile and a half in and out, but with a 600-foot elevation gain. That’s enough to make me panic. I even found a mountain in Connecticut with similar stats and hiked it last month just to make sure I could do it. But as we pulled into Moab, it was 102°. at 5:00 p.m. There was no way in hell I was doing that hike. Or subjecting Hunter to it. Never mind Hunter — I wasn’t doing it.

So I pull up to the fluff and fold I’d researched, walked in, and there was not a soul in sight. There are two of these places in Moab, so maybe I’m at the wrong one — but I know I’m not. I called and a woman cheerfully answers. I ask if I’m at the wrong location. She says, “Oh no, we’ve stopped fluff and fold for the season.”

“For the season?”

I thought she was going to say “for the evening.” I had already concocted a plan to tip the hotel staff generously to walk my laundry two blocks over. I mean, I was going to give them a crazy tip. But I was still going to get my laundry done.  Now I have to do my own damn laundry. And I am not happy about it. I am so tired from that hike today — you have no idea.

And now I have to feed Hunter. Because so far today, he’s had:

• Crappy eggs
• Two small blueberry muffins
• Two snack-size bags of Lay’s
• One mini bag of mini Oreos
• And a whole CamelBak of water

Best. Mother. Ever.

Dinner options in Moab? Supposedly not abundant. At this point, I don’t even care. But I’d heard Pasta Jay’s wasn’t bad — so that’s where we ended up. Hunter, shockingly, got spaghetti and meatballs. I looked at the waiter and said, “Bring me whatever you want.”

“Seriously?” he replies.  I say, “Yup.”  He brought me Jay’s Famous Stuffed Shells. And they were actually really good. They were in front of us within 10 minutes of ordering. Fast service. Super reasonably priced — dare I say cheap. And tasty. Like, really tasty. Was it the best Italian I’ve ever had? Absolutely not. Was it the worst? Not even close.

So, we did laundry. We reorganized. Tomorrow will be here soon.

Unreliable Summary – Scary Drive, Long Hike, Closed Laundry