Flight of the Phoenix

Ok, so when I left you we had backtracked to the main highway, on our way towards the West (preferably L.A., if Aga has her way).  Speaking of Aga having her way, the whole time we've been in Arizona she was fascinated with trying to find the saguaro cactus - the emblem of Arizona, or so it seems - as its image is found everywhere, on licence plates, state signs and so on.  But so far, we haven't even seen a sniff of one.  Anywhere.  And by now, Agnieszka is getting pretty desperate, because we've only got the car for 2 more days, so the chances of seeing this cactus are, well, pretty cactus, I would think.

So while we were having breakfast in Tombstone Agnieszka decided to take advantage of talking to the locals, and ask where we might find these things.  The fella there told us of a national park full of the devils, near to Tucson, called Saguaro National Park.  I checked out where it was on the map, and it was sort of on the way to Phoenix, sort of, so we decided to give it a go.

It turned out that it was a lot further away than we thought it was, and we needed to make it before sunset - well, what's the point in wandering around a national park full of cacti in the dark - could be quite, um, prickly... but luckily we made it by sunset with about half an hour to spare, and were treated to some magnificent views.  The whole hillside was just covered with these things, huge, tall cacti, as far as the eye could see.  It was wonderful!

After wandering (read: driving) around the National Park for a bit, the sun started to set and we decided to continue to press on towards Phoenix, where we intended to stay for the night.  This was fine, but you've got to understand, we're actually quite a way out of Phoenix, so the driving is long.  Add to that the fact that the ol' petrol tank is getting a bit low, but I thought to myself, come on, we can push it to the next station - so I didn't stop when I could.

I wish I had.  Suddenly, the fuel gauge light flashes on, a low sound emits from the alarm - and we're on the last notch before empty!  How did that happen so quickly?  We were on like, 3 or something, and then boom!  Down to 1!

So I pull off at the next exit, hoping, because I could see something that looked a bit like a servo, that it would be one.  No - it wasn't, it was some half baked old diner, and the woman, when I asked her about the nearest 'gas station', said, "20 miles".  Twenty miles!  And I'm driving on fumes!

"In which direction?"  I asked. "Either," was the response.  The problem we had was this - I didn't know who to call even if I could see a phone.  So I got back in the car, had a quick chat with Aga, checked out the car manual in the glove box, and figured out we should, if my maths was correct, have about 25 miles worth of petrol - maybe a little more if I go slow a bit.

So we got back on the highway, didn't even have the radio running for this bit, it was so tense, prayed and prayed and prayed - and breathed a HUGE sigh of relief (and thank you prayer) when we saw the next petrol station!

We only just made it, really...

Tumbleweeds and Tombstones

We awoke after a fitful night's sleep with sun streaming in on my face and the car like a sauna!  I felt like I had done several rounds in the ring with Mohammed Ali or something - and it was still only 6am! - nothing open - so we started up the car and drove a little way up the road where we found an overflow car park down a little incline, and parked the car up under a tree there.  We tried to sleep some more but this was particularly difficult for me as unfortunately, first thing in the morning, like most people, I need the loo - and there's no toilets around, no bushes... it was agony.  Anyway, we finally got up around 7.30am and this time we found a cafe / diner open for breakfast.

We took full advantage of the facilities there as with the temperatures in the car having been so warm, plus with having been in Mexico the day before, I really needed a shower!  Unfortunately being only a cafe restroom, I had to endure a TP wash instead, but it went a long way to making me feel a lot better!  We then had a leisurely breakfast whilst we tried to properly wake up.  My head was absolutely killing me!  I hate sleeping rough!  Anyway, our server was really friendly, he looked a lot like a hell's angel or something, but he seemed nice, and he told us a lot about the town and things that we should see.

Seems for once luck was on our side, and we had picked a good day to be in Tombstone, because it was one of their 'vigilante' weekends - which meant that a whole bunch of Wyatt Earp wannabes were in town dressed as if they had just stepped off the set of "The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp" or "Gunfight At The O.K. Corrall" or something, and giving dramatic re-enactments all weekend of important (and not-so-important) events in the town's history, like the shootout at the O.K. Corrall and stuff like that.  It was really cool.

We started off our day with a trolley car tour of town, saw the various sights, like Wyatt Earp's house, Big Nose Kate's saloon, Boothill graveyard and so on.  We then hit the main street.  All the vigilantes were so friendly, everyone was wanting to help us find the sights we wanted to see, or take fab photos and so on.  It was just fab.  All the shops and saloons along the main street, Allen St, are exactly as they would've been in Wyatt Earp's day - wide verandah'd shop fronts, locals hanging out over the banisters, watching the goings on in the street, swing door saloons being flung open to reveal some unsavoury gunslinger or local hooligan, horse and coaches tied up outside.... and the local sheriff, Wyatt Earp, patrolling to check all was in order.  Obviously he didn't take a shine to us, because we were publicly arrested, tried and hung in the middle of the road.  This was somewhat distressing, and all a bit too much, so we headed into Big Nose Kate's for a morning tea pick-me-up to recover (but were accosted by gunslingers on the way in!)

Whilst we were in Big Nose Kate's we heard a commotion outside, and rushed out to see what was going on.  The vigilantes were holding their various dramatic re-enactments all throughout the day, and in this instance, a wife was berating her husband for being out late drinking, or some such - and he tried to prove he wasn't drunk by shooting a bottle off some bloke's head, and got shot himself!  The re-enactments were really well done and you really felt like you were back in the wild west.

After we saw all we could of the main street, we went to see the silver mine - the "Good Enough Mine".  The tour was terribly interesting, because this mine, and others like it, was the whole reason that Tombstone was founded.  In fact, the town of Tombstone got its name because the founder, Ed Schieffelin, when he decided to go out looking for silver in Apache territory, was told that all he'd find out there was his own 'tombstone'.  And the 'Good Enough' mine got its name because a year later, when he filed his second claim, he felt the silver ore was so rich that it was 'good enough' to satisfy him.  He had the last laugh, didn't he - he struck it rich!

The mine is just a block or so away from the main street in town, so you could see that it was a really easy for the miners when they finished their shift to wander back into town and spend their wages in one of the many saloons there.  And in those days, the saloons were open 24 hours a day, as the mines never closed.  So they were really onto a good thing too.  Anyway, the tour was really interesting, and you can see a video of it here.

We headed back into town, like the miners would have, after our visit to the mine, and made for another of the saloons in the main street, I think it might've been the Crystal Palace Saloon.  Like in Big Nose Kate's the barmen and waitresses were all done up in outfits of the time, and the decor was as it would've been in the 1880's in Tombstone.  This time I discovered old time sarsparilla on the menu, so I just had to have one... and it was just glorious!  

We spent quite happily a good several hours in Tombstone, so it was mid-late afternoon by the time we left - although we first stopped off at the Boot Hill Graveyard for a wander around the tombstones.  Very interesting they were too, with funny inscriptions on some of the graves:  here is my personal favourite... 

Anyway, Agnieszka had seen a flyer for neighbouring Bisbee which looked somewhat interesting, so we headed off there - but in fact the flyer had been written, I'm sure, by the Lonely planet people covering the Arizona chapter, and so it was a little disappointing, particularly as the town was in the opposite direction to that which we needed to go.  We decided to make it a little worthwhile so we had a late lunch / early dinner there before starting our backtrack to the main highway.

By this stage in the trip Aga has begun to talk of going to L.A.  I don't want to burst her bubble, but with only 2 nights left of car hire remaining, and more than 500 miles to L.A., I can't see how this is going to happen.  I'll just bite my tongue for now, we still have a lot of ground to cover, let's see how we get on... stay tuned for more of Aga and Kylie's Excellent Adventure...!

Sleeping Rough in Tombstone, Arizona

It was several hundred miles of driving from El Paso to Tombstone, Arizona - in fact we had to drive clean through the bottom of New Mexico, pretty much without stopping... Luckily the highways in the US are very good, so it wasn’t so difficult - although I did have to give it over to Agnieszka at one point (even though she’s not on the hire contact - naughty, I know, risky, too, but necessary). Our aim was to stay probably in the the KOA nearest to Tombstone, but to go to Tombstone first as we’d read that they have saloons there done up in the style of the Wild West, so we’d hoped to get there in time for a late dinner and then drive back and set up our tent, thus heading back to Tombstone the next day to see the rest of the town. But time kept getting the better of us, and when we reached the camp ground it was already past 9pm. Not knowing what time the restaurants might close, we carried on another 30-40 miles to Tombstone, but we didn’t get there until 10pm and at this point, nothing was open, save for an extremely dodgy looking bar, whose owner told us that all the touristy stuff had shut down around 7pm or something like this, and there was nowhere else in town to eat.

This put us in a bit of a sticky situation, because if we headed back to our campground, being some 30-40 miles back the way we had just come, and then the next day headed back to Tombstone - and then back to the main highway - well, we’d add an extra 120miles to our trip and travel the same road 3 times (4 if you count that we’d just done it anyway). That seemed just a little bit ridiculous, just so we could see some Wild West.

So we decided to see if there wasn’t a campground nearer to Tombstone - we’d seen a few signs on the way, and also, surely with Tombstone being a tourist attraction, you’d think there’d be accomodation around... But the campground signs we’d seen turned out to be for RV vehicles only. In fact, one campground had a sign warning about snakes in the area and the like, which are apparently around at the moment. This definitely did not make us feel favourable about pitching our tent there, or even anywhere by the side of the road - snakes don’t know any boundaries, now do they? And anyway, as for camping by the side of the road, well, despite the snakes, we’d seen pigs too (police) on the highway, and we didn’t know what the law was about that anyway. So, by now its getting on for 11pm, and we headed back into town and tried EVERY MOTEL we saw. They were all closed - well at least their offices were, as it was clear there were guests in the motel. Not one had an office that was open, and by now its 11.30pm and we were bone tired, hungry, and more than just a little fed up. We’d been to Mexico and back in the same day, and we needed a shower and a sleep - but there was no way we were going to get that. With a 40 mile trip back to the campground, and with the level of tiredness of both of us - we just wouldn’t have made it.

So we pulled over to the kerb in some quiet street, outside someone’s house, and parked our car like it belonged there. Locked all the doors, got out the sleeping bags, reclined our chairs to the max - and slept the worst sleep it is humanly possible to have! For one, it was majorly uncomfortable, with your feet hanging down by the accelerator (trying to make sure you don’t accidentally rest them on the brake and flatten your battery!) and your back arched slightly unusually. Second, it was absolutely stinking hot in there - and we couldn’t really open a window, because - third, I was terrified that some looney out on the razz would see us, break the windows and attack us in our sleep, or something. Which meant that every sound, every cricket’s chirp, every dog’s bark, had me sat bolt upright in pure fear. Agnieszka was ok, she slept through it, but not me.... I had the worst night’s sleep ever imaginable...plus anyway, isn’t Tombstone supposed to be haunted... cue: Twilight Zone theme...doo doo doo doo...

Problems With Blogging

Hi all

Just wanted to say I am having lots of difficulty getting onto the internet in the US and Canada because everyone has laptops and so there are no internet cafes anymore.

Therefore I am already 2 weeks behind on the blogging and will just do what I can, when.

Keep checking in case I manage to do anything - otherwise wait til I get back and I'll give you all the full gory details...

Livin' La Vida Loca

I chose this title as its about the only Spanish I know, thanks to Ricky Martin... but I don't know that it's necessarily appropriate in this instance... you'll have to see and let me know...

We left Las Cruces and from there it was only about 40 minutes drive to El Paso, Texas. To be honest, I didn’t really think very much of El Paso because it was really just another city, and also the road signs were really confusing. If you actually followed them you just went around in giant circles. Every other sign seemed to point to Mexico, but in a conflicting or contradictory direction to the previous one, and then once you got on that road there were no more signs (usually an indication that you’d made a wrong turn). So after a very long time messing around trying to figure out where to go, I finally spied out of the corner of my eye a very small, partially obscured sign for the pedestrian bridge to Mexico and we followed it down to 2 guys in fluoro jackets waving down people with airline batons into their car park. It cost like $3 to park all day there. We grabbed our stuff and set off for the bridge. The bridge was really cheap, it cost something like 60 cents to cross over the border into Mexico Absolutely no one checked our passport leaving the US or even arriving in Mexico, so all that worry and bitty internet research re visas for Mexico was completely a waste of time. The only customs officer we had anything to do with on the way over was a US one who came up and had a bit of a go at us for taking photos on the bridge, as we were therefore stationery for a while there and apparently that area is ripe for “jumpers” - people who try jumping off the bridge into the US as illegal immigrants. To be honest I don’t get it, that side of the footpath is one way into Mexico, so how a Mexican would be there (obviously coming from Mexico) jumping into the US I don’t know. Plus Agnieszka and I clearly look like Mexican refugees or something, don’t we.

Anyway, we moved on. I was glad we were walking into Mexico and not taking the car, because the traffic waiting to get into the US was backed up so far it would’ve taken literally hours to clear. Everyone wants to come to the States, I guess. Land of opportunity and all.

We stepped off the bridge into Cuidad Juarez and it was as if we’d arrived on another planet. The stark contrast between wealthy, affluent, first world America and its poor third world cousin is the like the difference between chalk and cheese or black and white. It really hit you fair in the face. The smooth, well paved, well maintained roads, new, shiny vehicles of America as opposed to the dirty, dusty, uneven and unkempt footpaths and old, broken down jalopies of Mexico. It was really stark.

We walked a little way down the street and felt like we were back in the Middle East again (“come look my shop” or “You want taxi? Taxi to city centre” - even though its a very short walk). As we hadn’t really had breakfast (not that we really did most days, anyway), we stopped off at a quaint little cantina and ordered an omelette.

All I can say is, I hope their cooking hygiene standards in the kitchen are higher than their bathroom hygiene standards, because in the bathroom we found dried vomit in the sink which had obviously been there quite some time. I would hate to get food poisoning from this omelette!

Fortunately the food tasted pretty good and I didn’t seem to suffer any adverse effects... not yet anyway...

After brunch we continued our jaunt down the dusty road to a crossroad, opposite which was the old Town Hall or something. Now its the local museum, and as it was free, we decided to go in. All in Spanish mind, but it seemed to have a good display of Mexican Revolution history as well as a small, but good quality, art gallery.

We then spent some time wandering the streets, and found a lovely little park in front of the beautiful Cathedral, but still, the level of poverty around was quite depressing, so it wasn’t long before we found overselves heading back to the border. En route Aga tried to download her photo memory card to CD at the local pharmacy. This turned out to be quite a palaver, as the woman working the machine firstly didn’t seem to know how to use it, and then secondly after about 40 minutes of ‘burning photos to CD’ it blasted thing locked up! Well, there was no way we were going to waste another 40 minutes there, so we told the woman not to worry about it and then ran out of the shop before she could make us pay for the partially burned CD (which of course is now no longer usable!).

We had a quick look through a general bric-a-brac market that had clearly seen better days (“come look my shop”), and then made for the border. En route we were approached by several beggars, including a US one who gave us some sob story about needing several dollars to get back to the States, and he’d been on some mercy mission to get his daughter out of Mexico, or some rubbish like this - but it was clear he was either an alcoholic or a crack addict with Parkinsons, so we left him alone and walked across the border.

At the border again we had to provide our intimate details and list of bodily functions before being allowed back in. We jumped in the car and then we were off on the highway again... off to Tombstone, Arizona...

Zingin' Zuni and the Little Acoma Hitler

The next morning we set off early with the intention of making as much distance as possible towards Texas, as we would like to cross over from El Paso into Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, for a day trip. I mean, hey, you can't come this close to it without giving it a shot, right? What's wrong with that?

But New Mexico, the state we're currently in, is HUGE... so we have a lot of driving ahead. A lot!

We wanted to avoid the disasters of the time-wasting Hopi experiment of the day before, which had received rave reviews in Lonely Planet by a writer who either never actually went there or who was on acid at the time, but we also wanted to give the Native American Indians another chance. Hoping the author of the New Mexico chapter was much more accurate than the Arizona one, it was with some sense of dubiousness that we planned our route to include a visit to the Zuni people.

Alas, this author, too, had clearly been drinking from the same poisoned chalice as the Arizona one, and we endured another pointless waste of time.  Instead of 'impressive, delicately inlaid silverwork, stone houses, beehive-shaped mud ovens and impressive murals' as promised, we again found a rundown, ramshackle shanty town - and again those ridiculous "no photo" signs.  We could've seen the 'impressive murals' if we'd been prepared to waste half of the day waiting for the published tour at 2pm (run by the Visitor Centre and at a cost of $12), but we gave it all up as a bad cause and made our way back to Highway 53 for hopefully much more interesting adventures.

By now it was early afternoon and we hadn't made much progress from our original starting point of Gallup, New Mexico.  We decided that the El Morro National monument probably warranted at least a quick, cursory look (I mean, hey, we'd been to the Zuni's - it couldn't be as bad as that), so we hopped out of the car and made the short walk to "Inscription Rock", where you can see graffiti several hundreds of years old.  It was pretty good, there's a small pool of water there made solely from melted snow (and as a result with some sort of chameleon like creature in it - they look like fish but they're not).  By now though, it was mid afternoon and time was really getting away from us, so we set off again.  It was not long though til we saw signs for "Sky City", and this intrigued Agnieszka somewhat, so we decided to have another 'quick look'.  

"Sky City" is the pueblo of the Acoma people, and is apparently one of the oldest continually inhabited settlements in North America.  It sits some 7000ft above sea level and some 367ft above the surrounding plateau.  Now to be perfectly honest, by this point, the words "pueblo" and "Native American peoples" are starting to strike fear and dread to my very inmost being, as the famed pueblos of the Hopi's and the Zuni's have been, well, lets be frank, complete rubbish.  Literally.  But I decided to give the native people one last, and absolutely final, chance.

And to be fair, this one was actually ok.  We took the guided tour from the Visitor centre (as that's the only way you are permitted to see the thing) and we should've taken the opportunity to buy a photo permit (as that's the only way you can take pictures) - but we thought we'd be sneaky and just take them anyway.  Alas, because we didn't have a permit, we weren't even allowed to bring our cameras, or even our phones (in case they have - as they do - cameras on them).  I mean, how sad is that?  And our guide, who really was a little Hitler, was really psycho about only allowing those with permits to take pics anyway, and he would readily shout out at those using cameras (who had managed to smuggle them on to the tour) without permits dangling from them.  His 'Hitler'-like traits were also demonstrated in his explanations and questions, e.g., he'd show you something, like the water system or something, give you the blurb about it, and then bark out "Questions?  Water systems.  Questions?  Water systems."  And heaven help you if you wanted to ask about something other than water systems!  It got so bad that people were laughing about it behind his back, and one bloke actually went up to him and said, "Let me know when I can ask a question about the architecture".  Sheesh.  Some people need to develop a little flexibility, eh?  Or at least, take a chill pill...

By the time the tour was over it was getting on for 6pm, and we still had a couple of hundred miles to go.  We walked back down from the mesa, enjoying a nice chat with an American Pom (who was quite cute but very young) and then set off for Las Cruces.

The driving was good but long!  It wasn't until at least 11pm (and we didn't even stop for dinner, only petrol) when we finally pulled into Las Cruces KOA.  Oh boy was I knackered!

Anyway, here are some pics of the Acoma stuff, including our tour guide.  Don't worry, I didn't take them illegally, I just downloaded them from the internet...

Our lovely tour guide

I'm Goin' Home, Gonna Load My Shotgun

One of the things about driving around Southwestern USA is that because I don't have an aux wire to connect my Zen to the car stereo, the only music we have comes from the radio. And in this neck of the woods, all you can get on the radio is.... country music...alas... and now secretly I'm becoming a bit of a fan... what's happening to me?  The other day we found a station that played a bit of pop music, and I was secretly glad when we drove out of the area and lost the signal... and picked up KRST again...!

Now the thing about country music, as far as I can make out, after my 6 straight days of it, is basically that they sing songs about everyday life on one of a few, salient topics:

1. Trucks (and / or tractors). 2. Guns. 3. The Interstate. 4. Women.

Of course, the best songs combine these topics... so anything about trucks and women is practically guaranteed to be a chart topper.

Having heard these songs several days running, obviously we've heard some more often than others. So here's my top five, um, favourites (bear in mind that they don't usually announce the titles, so I've had to come up with them based on the hook):

5. She Thinks My Truck's Sexy 4. Waiting on a Woman 3. Put a Girl In It 2. My Give-A-Damn's Busted and my personal favourite: 1. I'm Goin' Home, Gonna Load My Shotgun

I mean, how's these for classic country lyrics - they're actually quite clever:

County road 233, under my feet Nothin' on this white rock but little ole me I've got two miles till, he makes bail And if I'm right we're headed straight for hell Chorus: I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun Wait by the door and light a cigarette If he wants a fight well now he's got one And he ain't seen me crazy yet He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll Don't that sound like a real man I'm going to show him what a little girls made of Gunpowder and lead It's half past ten, another six pack in And I can feel the rumble like a cold black wind He pulls in the drive, the gravel flies He don't know what's waiting here this time I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun Wait by the door and light a cigarette If he wants a fight well now he's got one And he ain't seen me crazy yet He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll Don't that sound like a real man I'm going to show him what a little girls made of Gunpowder and lead His fist is big but my gun's bigger He'll find out when I pull the trigger I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun Wait by the door and light a cigarette If he wants a fight well now he's got one And he ain't seen me crazy yet He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll Don't that sound like a real man I'm going to show him what a little girls made of Gunpowder and, Gunpowder and lead Classic, eh?  The tune was really quite catchy and I laughed the first time I heard that one!

But my real favourite was one called "Good Time". The only problem was, we heard it several times one day, and we haven't heard it since! Come on KRST, how about a "Good Time"?

Here's some youtube videos I found of my favourites...

Allan Jackson "Good Time"

Miranda Lambert "Gunpowder and Lead" (aka I'm goin home gonna load my shotgun)

You Do The Hopi-Pokey And You Turn Around...

We woke up again fairly early because of the heat in the tent and hit the road. Bye bye, Chinle...

As we were driving out of Chinle we realised that we were right at the Canyon De Chelly, so we figured, why not do a quick drive on the scenic loop and have a bit of a look at the views? So we did...

The Canyon De Chelly was and still is farmed by the Navajo people, so as you look down from the various viewpoints along the rim you can see not only beautiful views of the canyon, but the farms and farmhouses of the Navajo people. At each 'lookout' place, a couple of the Navajo's have set up small stalls from the back of their utes, selling jewellery, carvings, paintings and other traditional crafts. We got to the last lookout station and from there you can hike down into the canyon - so we did. As we were pressed for time, and didn't really have a lot of water, and it was getting hot, hot, HOT! - we didn't do the full walk. It was really lovely though and on the way we saw some goats climbing down the side of the canyon - they were walking practially vertically on the rock face, and yet they didn't slip once. Talk about being surefooted. Someone out to patent a pair of shoes made out of goats hooves or something... my Pumas had me all over the place... although I expect more people would prefer to buy "Puma's" than a pair of "Goat's"...

Anyway, back to the story. The plan was to head down to Ganado and then as far down into New Mexico as possible, because the next day we wanted to make it to El Paso, Texas - and hop across the border into Mexico on the pedestrian bridge (we're not mad enough to take the car over there). And apparently at Ganado there's "Hubbel's Trading Post", which is still set up in the style of the old days, so we thought we'd like to see that. This trading post was established in 1878 and still sells local crafts as well as regular groceries, and is a national historical site.

But halfway there we realised that if we'd taken an earlier turning, we could see the Hopi Indian reservation, which according to the guidebook is a "must see". So we did a bit of a wide loop and detour out to see it.

We soooo shouldn't have bothered. Honestly, it was a complete waste of time, effort and money. We got out there, to Oraibi, the oldest inhabited town in the US, and it was surrounded by signs forbidding photography or video recording of the Hopi people or their homes. After a quick walk around, we could see why. Not for religious purposes, like the signs said - but because the homes were a complete embarrassment. They were like little shantytowns, or a junkyard or something - the houses were made out of any old crap they could find - bits of old metal, bits of tyres and so on. Just junk.

And as for the people, well. They just looked like you and me. Not at all like the young girls with the Princess Leia hairdo's that we saw in the museum.

So we left Oraibi and headed off back to Second Mesa in the hope that it would be better - it wasn't - and realised we'd now wasted pretty much a whole day on this crap.

So we hotfooted it to Ganado, which was so much more interesting. We made it there to Hubbell's Trading Post with 45 minutes to spare before closing time (just as well, I would've been gutted if our trip to the Hopi's had cost us our visit to Ganado). The trading post and the area surrounding it was still decked out as in the old days, with all the goods on shelves behind a long, u-shaped counter, just like something out of Little House on the Prairie or Anne of Green Gables. Sooo cute. And outside the building they had a display of farm machinery through the ages (well, through American history anyway) - it was a kind of living museum.

We were there til closing time and then we pressed on as far as we could into New Mexico - but en route the tyre pressure alarm came on in the car. Panic, panic! Out comes the manual to figure out what it meant - and as a result we had to fill one of the tyres with air. But which one? We went to the local servo and the air thing was broken. At the next one the air thingy worked, but the PSI thing did not - so I had to go by KEG instead - Kylie's Educated Guess - and I filled them all a bit. Obviously it was enough to turn off the silly alarm, and I must've got it fairly right, as the tyres didn't blow out or anything...

Monument Valley and the Magnificent Seven

America is one huge place. I thought I knew this already, but seriously, you don't really KNOW it until you try to travel around and find it takes hours and hours to go only a few hundred miles. Take today for example. We woke up early (again) because of the sun streaming in our tent in Page, Arizona.

According to the map, Monument Valley, our next major destination, is only some 120 miles from Page - so that should be just under 2 hours at 65 miles an hour (the actual speed limit). But the problem is, there's so much to photograph and see on the way, that you just can't do it in two hours. So although we left around 9.30 (after a stop in Walmart so we could buy some provisions), by the time we filled up with petrol enroute, checked out cute little Navajo craft stalls by the side of the road, and took copious pictures and videos on the approach roads to Monument Valley - it was gone 1.30 by the time we actually got there!

But it was well and truly worth it. Monument Valley is the place where all the old wild Westerns were shot. You look up at the mountains and you can't help but hear the theme tune to the Magnificent Seven (I think that's the one) or something running through your head, or expect to see John Wayne ride up on his horse and say "Howdy", or something like this. Maybe the old Marlboro man?

The scenery here is just spectacular. Red dust, Navajo Indians (but not in traditional dress, unfortunately - now that would just cap it all off), horses (and riders too, of course) and the most glorious, tall, rugged cliffs. Just here randomly - literally standing out like monuments to a byegone time. Evoking feelings of wide prairies, wild coyotes and fiercesome battels between cowboys and injuns...

After our visit here, we headed straight back the way we came, until Kayenta, where we took the 160 and then the 59 down to a town called Many Farms, where we picked up the 191 to Chinle. The scenery along this route was quite pretty, rugged hilltops and lots and lots of farms. Cows and horses, mostly. Couldn't actually see any real crops growing, the lands is too dry I guess - so probably its just livestock out here. Or maybe the crops are further inland, away from the road and closer to the homesteads, I don't know.

We made Chinle by nightfall (just), where we received a nice surprise. The campground was completely free (of charge!) The only downer was there are no showers, but a quick 'tp' wash would have to suffice for tonight. Oh and there were heaps of mozzies, so it was off to the shop for some 'Off!' - the US version of 'Rid'. We stopped off at the local Best Western for free internet, a quick recharge of the 'equipment', dinner and so on.

When we got back to the campground, this being Navajo country, no alcohol is allowed - but clearly the Polish in a neighbouring RV hadn't understood that, and held a full on party - including singing... if you could call it that. So, we had the Polish version of 'Frere Jacques' (in parts, too, I might add - but badly), some other Polish drinking songs and then a most entertaining, full throated rendition of 'Don't Worry, Be Happy'. At this time of night, should've been "Don't Worry, If You Don't Shut Up I'm Going To Come Over There And Smack Your Head In..."

Rafting the Colorado

We left Grand Canyon early on the morning of the 3rd and headed north on Highway 89 towards Page, Arizona, as we had booked a half day rafting trip on the Colorado river.

Oh boy, was I excited! The Colorado river! Full of wild rapids and rough water - we were going to have a whale of a time! I mean, I rafted all the river greats, you know - the Zambezi (Zimbabwe), the Ayung (Bali), the Tirol (Austria), and of course that dare-devil of all dare-devils, the Tully (North Queensland). So I am certainly no stranger to the dangers of the white water - Colorado, bring it on!

After 3 hours drive we finally arrived at the rafting place, and I could already see lots of people gathered at the front of the building, queuing up - and something didn't seem quite right. I couldn't really put my finger on it - but then it dawned on me. These didn't look like adventure types...

You had very young children, barely out of nappies, then very old people, some unable to walk, and then some extremely obese people... surely the likes of these wouldn't be able to manage the sheer physical hell that comes with paddling a rubber raft down grade 4-5 rapids? What's going on?

It all became clear to us once we entered the building. Unfortunately the only 'proper' rafting trips that this company (or indeed any company) offer which actually involve white water rapids are trips of 3, 5, 7 days duration. What we were booked on, was a smooth water trip - where there is absolutely none, zero, zippo chance of getting wet at all. Or even rowing. Hmmm. Suffice to say I wasn't happy...

But the credit card had already been charged and there was a no cancellation, no refund policy - so we had to go for it. Fortunately though, it was a really pleasant, enjoyable experience.

Firstly, our guide DJ was a native Navajo Indian, so we got a lot more than the regular tour as he told us a lot about the Navajo culture as well as about the surroundings there at Glen Canyon. Like, the fact that the Navajo people are a matriarchal society, so everything comes down through the mother - including your tribal name and all. And he told us a lot about the language. And later in the trip, when we were moored up at a small beach, he took us to see the ancient petroglyphs that the native Indians had carved into the canyon's rock walls, and gave us a bit of an interpretation. It was very informative. It was all like something out of "The River Wild" - without the wild river bit, or the bad guys...

It really was very beautiful being on the river. Extremely peaceful, especially when DJ turned the boat's engine off so we could just listen to the sounds of nature around us. The water, the birds in the trees, the crickets and so on. It was lovely.

At one point we came across Echo Peaks, and that was where all calmness and serenity ended - for as DJ was telling us the story of some explorer of the river, who climbed to the top of the peaks, and fired off a shot to let those below know he'd made it safely (which sounded like a cannon going off by the time the sound reached the rest of the group) - and Agnieszka pipes up, "We've got an echo expert on board this boat, too"... So in front of the 22 other people on the boat, I rather reluctantly get up and, with serious pressure on me, and the reputation of the Australian nation at stake, let rip with a serious whoop-ass coo-ee... 4 second echo, thank you very much. Applause all round.

We hopped off the raft at Bridal Creek (no, sorry, that's the movie) - at the old ferry - where the lovely Pam, our bus driver, was patiently waiting to take us back to town.

Once back in town we really needed to do some serious recharging and Agnieszka was champing at the bit for a bit of Pawel-internet-time, and that's how we discovered free internet in the lobby of the Best Westerns. So we (well, Agnieszka) hi-jacked the interet for a bit there and then afterwards we headed off to their restaurant for more recharging and a lovely grill.

Headed back to our campground, but it was soooo hot and stuffy in the tent that sleep was virtually impossible until the wee small hours... when I was dreaming of being chased by Kevin Bacon down the Colorado river... mm mmm.....