Wednesday July 17

But it's a DRY Heat

Although we arrived in Page very late at night, I could still feel the beauty of the place. Having seen many pictures during the research-and-planning phase of my trip, along with a LOT of help from Dr. Larry Stucki (RACC's famous anthropology professor) certainly tried to prepare me for what I was about to see in daylight. But, no matter how many books and photos I looked at, nothing really did much in preparing me for the gorgeous Vermillion Cliffs right outside the motel. Even the Wal-Mart down the road was designed to blend in. Page seems to have a lot in common with Sedona and building codes. I'm falling more deeply in love with these colors and styles than ever before (Lance, I expect nothing less in my living room!).

Up until this point, I had not bothered to look at a map since before we left Pennsylvania. Now, though, I felt compelled since I'd wanted to go to the "official" Vermillion Cliffs, Marble Canyon and the twin Navajo bridges. Realizing from past days' experience that I'm not all that great at judging distances and driving times, I figured I'd better review more thoroughly the map of the Page-to-Marble Canyon area.

I did recall seeing the sign from Route 89 to Route 89-A the night before and remembered that it wasn't as close as I'd hoped it would be. The 2 routes form a "V" on the map with Page being at the top of the right leg of the V. The Vermillion Cliffs/Marble Canyon part of the V, of course, is at the top of the left leg. Since the road up the right side was twisty, turny and very steep at times, I could only assume that the other side would be just as "rough" for me (not to mention the car's ability to stay cool). After checking with the folks at the motel and some other tourists I'd met that morning while repacking the car, I decided I just wasn't up to the task of going the entire distance. I'd only have to redo the V later, to get back to the lake anyway.

By the time I left my motel room, it was already around 95 degrees and only around 8:30 AM. Instead of driving the entire length of the "V" I drove a short distance south and took a few pictures. On the way back up toward Page, Corey and I both spotted some BLUE in the desert! Blue??? Unless a part of the sky had fallen overnight, that BLUE must be Lake Powell, created by the damming of the Colorado in what is now Glen Canyon Dam. The building of the dam also created the city of Page, as many western cities were born of construction and a need for short-term housing for the workers and their families.

Snapping pictures out the window, I wondered if Corey was finally getting excited (or even happy) to be here. I knew I was getting nervous, the closer I got to the dam. I'd have to drive over it! And it's a long ways down to the bottom, too! The view from the bridge is spactacular; on the left (southside) one sees only boulders, canyon and very little water. On the right (north) side, one sees a huge turquoise-colored lake surrounded by Vermillion Cliffs, incredible formations and huge boats. But from our vantage point, the boats looked like toys.

Once we parked the car, we realized that the Carl Hayden Visitor's center was going to somehow be different from other places we'd been. The first clue was the sparkling pool/fountain out front. Our next clue was the Security Guard who approached us as we got out of the car. "No bags of any kind," he said to me as I carried my well-worn denim pocketbook toward him, a plastic gatorade-bottle in my right hand. "No drinks, either, except for water," spoke the guard. Back to the car I went, removing my wallet from my bag. I put the gatorade into the cooler and instead took out a water-bottle. I now carried my keys, my camera, wallet, water-bottle and soon.. my sunglasses. As soon as we entered the building, I was instructed to place everything into a little rubbermaid basket for X-raying. I was concerned because the camera is digital, but was assured it would be okay. On the other side of the X-ray devices, the guard gave me back most of my belongings; he still had to inspect the contents of my wallet!

"No money?" the guard exclaimed, laughing. I asked if I could take a picture of him rifling through my wallet and he said, "sure," as he rifled through it again to be sure he didn't miss an errant dolllar bill somewhere. Several guards standing next to me laughed along with us. Unfortunately, in my haste to get a good picture, I forgot to turn on the flash.

I have to stop and think now, just for a moment, and reflect on the events of September 11th and how they brought us to the point where a security guard has to go through a woman's wallet; how we can no longer carry our pocketbooks into public places; how, until just a few days before my arrival, the dam had been closed to the public for security reasons. I'm glad we can laugh about these inspections now. I'm also glad our government is taking seriously these threats to our national safety.

After touring the Carl hayden Visitors' Center, we got back into the car for the "short" drive to the sandy area where we could sit or wade at water's edge. This was the special day I'd planned for Corey; a day at the lake. No Indian tours, no cultural stuff for her to be bored with, no ruins, just a gorgeous day at the lake. The road was one I recognized from a book Dr. Stucki had loaned me during the planning phase. In some ways, the lake was more gorgeous than I remembered; in other ways, it was as if I were seeing it for the first time (which I actually was, technically speaking, anyway). I pointed out a section to Corey and said, "that's EXACTLY the spot Dr. Stucki told me about. He said the road wasn't as bad as it looked [in the book]." Once we finally thought we found the area for wading, we saw the sign "stateline" and realized we had crossed over into Utah. Remembering that Wahweap Marina was on the Arizona side, I turned the car around and entered yet another parking area. This was the Picnic Area and we decided it was probably as close as we were going to get to the water by car.

After parking the car, we set out on what we'd thought (hoped) would be a fairly short walk to the water's edge. Boy were we in for a shock! We walked, and walked, and walked, and walked (get the idea?) until I thought I'd pass out from the walk and the extreme heat. The sun was already burning the backs of my legs, having been reflected by the sand beneath me. And yet it didn't seem as if we were getting any closer to the refreshingly blue lake. We kept walking. Finally, we got to the edge of the sand. But, there was no water! It was only a rounded ledge; the water was miles and miles (so it seemed) away. We kept walking. We finally found a spot to rest, put our few things down and walked into the water. The sand was HOT. The water, we'd been told by Terry at Village Inn, was around 40 degrees. No way! It was like a bathtub in there. I loved being at the lake and wished I'd brought a small folding chair (knowing, of course, that neither of us could have made the walk back to the car carrying it); maybe some enterprising young company should make "disposable chairs."

After being in the water for a little while, Corey pointed out a parking lot that looked closer than where we'd parked. She suggested that I walk to the car and move it to the nearer lot and she'd carry most of the stuff we'd brought down. Sounded like a nice trade-off, I thought. So, when we'd finally had enough sun for the day, I grabbed a few light things (I put a few stray rocks into her backpack without telling her first) and began the long trek up to the car. About halfway up, there was a 3-sided shelter with benches, along with a water-fountain closeby. Drinking heavily (it was warm) and then resting on the bench, I met a few teens travelling from England and Germany.

Finally, it was time to move on, toward the car, ever so slowly. Corey had given me a 5 or 10 minute "head-start" so I knew I'd better hurry. The car was stifling in spite of the fact that we'd positioned the foil sun-reflector before locking up. I drove over to the parking lot at the top of the trail I'd just walked. No Corey, but the lake was now a different shade of turquoise, so I snapped a few more pictures. Still no Corey. After waiting for what felt like an eternity, and knowing I could not survive that kind of a walk again anytime soon, I used my cellphone to call the Visitors' Center. But, my phone cut off, having very little service strength in that area. I tried the phone again, this time calling 911, but still no signal strength. I was on the verge of tears, it must have already been at least 1/2 hour since I'd left the lake. A girl was walking down the trail so I asked her to see if Corey was down at the lake. When she got back, she told me that my daughter wasn't down there.

"Is that her?" asked the teen. I turned around to see Corey, as gorgeous as ever, trundling down the upper part of the trail behind me, from Route 89 and Utah. I ran out of the car, ran to grab her, ran to hug her. She pulled away from me as I wiped tears of fear and joy from my cheeks. "You're at the wrong parking lot!" she cried, shaking her head in wonder that I'd made it this far in life without her by my side. "That's the parking lot, over there, I told you, I pointed to it!"

"Corey, I thought you pointed to the trail, and THIS is the parking lot that the trail leads to." "No, mom, I pointed to a PARKING LOT, not a trail; you can't see this parking lot from the beach. THAT's the ONLY parking lot you can see from the lake!"

She's right, you know. I screwed up, leaving my poor baby to walk til she dropped from dehydration, alone in the desert. What kind of mom am I? The kind who forgot she'd left rocks in her daughter's bookbag, that's what kind! Boy, was Corey ever angry with me... for about an hour! That cold shoulder of hers does hurt, a lot.

I'd love to end this day's tale right here, but I can't. It was, at this point, only around 2 PM and we still had the rest of the day ahead of us. As if all this wasn't enough. I think if we did not have to move on to the next destination, Corey and I both could have gone back to the motel for a much needed nap, then a nice swim in their pool. But, move on we did. Back to Page to get gas, check the oil and water, buy water-bottles for ourselves and ice for the cooler.

Lake Powell Boulevard is a sideways "U" shaped road, beginning at the southern end of town, just off Route 89 and extending eastward around and back to Route 89 at the northern end, just before the dam. Populated just like old Route 66, it wasn't hard to find my way around. Except, unlike 66, it not only curved, it ran up hill! Then back down. Once we hit Route 89 again, south of Page, we drove through the gorgeous cliffs on the way to Route 160 and Navajo territory once more.

Once we were on Route 160 heading east out of Page, it didn't seem quite to hot out. For some reason, Page is the hottest place we'd been. Maybe it's the elevation, I don't know. The Navajo Generating Station wasn't too far ahead when I spotted it and had Corey take a picture for me. The sky was growing overcast and every once in awhile there would be a raindrop poised on my windshield. Rounding a curve, a now-familiar orange flagman sign awaited me: road work ahead. Not again! I was getting very tired of everyone suddenly needing to pave their roads, just when I was there visiting. Joining the already formed line of cars waiting to get through, I realized that this roadwork crew was doing things a bit differently than all the others we'd experienced: they would keep us waiting until their lead truck arrived from the other direction, leading the westbound traffic to the clear point. The truck would then turn around and head-up our eastbound line and lead us out, over the hills and valleys, to the clear area beyond. We must have sat there a good half-hour (thank God for overcast skies) without the engine running. Finally it was our turn to move forward. When we crested the hill up ahead, I finally realized what took so long. We were to be travelling in the westbound lane for about 10 miles.

Long after we got through the construction, I saw up ahead a sign for a gas station and convenience store. As we alighted from the car, a Navajo man approached Corey. Normally, given my positive experiences with the Navajo all week, I wouldn't have given it much thought. But, although she was smiling and walking away from him, he seemed rather persistent. I walked up to him whereupon he put out his hand to shake mine and told me he was looking for someone from Pennsylvania. He was a drunken panhandler... not permitted in the Navajo Nation. We notified store personnel and they handled the man from then on. Corey and I bought a few things (she bought packages of Ramen soup) and got back into the car. Just as I merged back onto the road, I saw a really amazing formation ahead and to my left. As I pointed it out to Corey, I realized that our motel for the next 2 days was right there, on Tsegi Canyon! From the fenced-in edge of the parking lot, I could look right down into the canyon. Although several Anasazi ruins are down there, I couldn't see anything from my vantage point, and we did not have time to go exploring. Adding something to the already bulging itinerary was not in the cards this trip.

Being back on the reservation meant no cellphone ATT service. It also meant no free AOL access; I'd have to use their 800 dial-up connection at 10 cents a minute, so calls and email were kept to an absolute minimum. We were now about 10 miles (give or take a few) from the town of Kayenta. Kayenta is a sweet little town on the reservation, home to the only movie theater. It's also home to some of the country's finest hotels and restaurants: Hampton Inn, Holiday Inn, Best Western. We were getting quite used to seeing these well-known motels decked out in their high-desert finery. It was hard to tell one from the other.

We settled into our room at the Anasazi Inn in Tsegi Canyon and walked down to the main building for dinner. This was a far cry from the Nation's Holiday Inn at Canyon de Chelly, but it was going to be "home" for the next few days. After dinner, Corey pointed out a notice on the mirror in our bathroom: "Due to the popularity of our linens, you may purchase them for the following prices:" Corey was astounded that they'd offer to sell their linen, and thought their prices were way too high. For example, a pillow was priced at $20.00! I took a look at the laminated note and explained to her that that is the PENALTY for theft. She hadn't know before that travelers like to keep "souvenirs" from motels. See? I told her this trip would be a "learning experience" for her.

Our motel in Page, AZ	Corey packs the car	A lizard in the doorway
Glen Canyon Dam	Lake Powell, facing Utah	Facing Arizona
I strive for an even tan	Corey cools off	Facing east
Vermillion Cliffs, looking west	Vermillion Cliffs, heading south	Long and Winding Road

~*~ Recommended Reading ~*~

Click for product description/ordering information

Glen Canyon Lake Powell The Story Behind the Scenery

Glen Canyon Dammed Inventing Lake Powell

Peaceful Canyon Golden River

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