We each brought about 3 sets of clothes, except Doodle who feels the need to change clothes several times a day even while traveling. We just cycle through, doing a load or two of laundry every few nights. Last night Grandma and I were up so late doing Durango-Silverton Train laundry that it was a real challenge getting out of bed in the morning to leave Colorado.
I'll add that Spray 'n' Wash may be bad for the environment, but it works magic getting the environment out of our clothes. I'd do a commercial for them if only they'd ask. Hey, I did do a commercial once 15 years ago. Well, an infomercial. It was for cheesecake, which I love. Tomcat and I had Amaretto Cheesecake for our wedding and the baker asked me to do a commercial for them. Crazy, right?
A long time ago a friend of mine took me to a great Navajo restaurant in Bluff, Utah. It was in a dark house in the middle of nowhere but the food was amazing and spicy as hell. I was on a mission to find it and savor whatever they put in front of me once again. Off we went, leaving the lush green mountainous Colorado behind. Hello Utah!
On our way we stopped at Four Corners and were shocked to find that it's a real destination now, with an entry fee and everything. We could hear Navajo spoken by the Native Americans selling their wares and we wandered around with snow cones and fry bread. There aren't a lot of places you can buy a snack and say, "Hey, we're in Arizona" then turn and walk a few hundred feet and say, "Hey, now we're in New Mexico" and so on. It's really fun. Actually you have to work hard to make it fun because it's so bloody hot, but we managed to do it.
Bluff, UT isn't exactly a normal sort of place. (I'm taking a leap that your idea of normal is in cahoots with my idea of normal.) Our car really needed gas and up the road we found a slab of concrete with 2 ancient pumps and a barred up station. Surprisingly, it seemed to be working (a taped sign on the pump read: Pay first. 10 gallons = $41.50 and so on), but there was no one around. Directly next door was a building with a little walk-up window. I went over and immediately the window popped open with a panicked face that said, "She's not there, but if you tell me how much, I'll get you the gas." I said, "Oh, well do you take credit cards?" She looked really nervous and I was very curious what was going on behind the window when she said, "Sure. Just tell me how much and she can do it when she gets back. I don't really do the gas or the money."
I told her I'd take 10 gallons at $41.50 and then I asked her about my Navajo restaurant. She goes, "It ain't here anymore. The Sunbonnet. Closed down." DANG! So I asked if there was any place we could eat and she considered for what seemed a long time and finally replied, "Well, there's the place a mile up the road....or here." Stunned, I said, "What's here?" "Well, it's sort of like a cafe." Sure enough the sign on the front of the building read Dairy Cafe and we all slugged our way through the 90+ heat into the cool room, which really was an okay place with a few okay people inside.
The face through the window turned out to be the nervous, very kind daughter of the owner, the above she who apparently "did the gas and money". Mother was quite a specimen: very tall, very thin, around 70 give or take 10 years (smoking and the desert make it tough to judge), gray thinning hair, piercing blue eyes, 6 coats of stage make-up and a deformed hand which she waved around and around our table without one of my kids making a single comment...yay! We ordered ham & cheese sandwiches, drinks and an order of fries. They all showed up in little wax paper pockets, grilled on rye bread with mayo and mustard. The kids wouldn't touch it.
Doodle had to pee so Mother said, "Well, everyone get up! Line up now and I'll unlock the door. I have to come with you." I was certain she had a shotgun slung around her back so we all did as she said, and she marched us outside, around back with the stray dogs to a toilet room. Very strange indeed, but effective. We all peed even though Doodle was the only one that knew she needed to go.
Some other customers came in wanting to see rugs and we realized this cafe was also a Trading Post type of place. She sells native crafts in yet another side room, securely locked. Fumbling through at least 50 keys hanging from her belt, Mother opened the shop for them, mumbling the entire time to herself. "I'd like it better if you'd actually buy a rug." Grandma and I left there thinking these were what Prairie People looked like that went crazy from the wind.
We quite enjoyed the nutty visit, and Mother did send us off with a wonderful nugget of information: see Goosenecks. "It's only 4 miles out of your way and no one goes there." How could I resist? Now, I say to you, "Go there." Pictures don't do it justice. Driving along through miles of colored sand and scrub brush, you'd never know it's out there. What a gem.
Grandma had never been to Monument Valley before and I'd never actually entered the park as the view from the highway is impressive enough. Nothing can prepare you for the sheer grandeur of these monuments. Not books. Not movies. Not my testimony. This is one of those places. You need to watch other people in awe, seeing the same thing you are. The dirt must be tasted so you can verify that it's actually nothing like paprika. And I suspect this valley needs to be seen in winter as well as spring but I can't speak to that.
This was supposed to be a highlight for Peanut and I. We were going to paint the desert at some point and I was sure it'd be Monument Valley. Unfortunately, sweltering in the oppressive 92 degrees, Grandma and I turned around to a whimpering Peanut and found her wearing her fleece of all things! Her fever was back and we'd already committed to the Loop Drive...miles and miles of bumpy, red dirt roads and magnificent views from every possible angle.
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