No, something far worse, I fell into the abyss of procrastination. I wrote this entry months ago and saved it as a draft which sat in my computer ever since… so here it is.
I relied on my husband’s ramblings about our roadtrip on his blog Fuzzypictures.
But we have different takes on life…
The landscape changes from state to state. We hoped to camp near Alburqurque but even at what we thought was the end of the season, the campgrounds were booked. Jene chose the Nativo Lodge. In spite of the 104 temperature, the indoor/outdoor pool was void of guests so we had the place to ourselves.
We went to Old Town, Albuquerque in search of a few trinkets to purchase directly from the artists who line the sidewalks. (Much like in Santa Fe). I bought a pair of earrings from artist, Mary Rosetta who travels the circuit from the Santa Domingo Pueblo.
Climbed rocks at high noon at the Petroglyths National Park then a little R&R was called for – a dip in our hotel pool.
There was a festival at the Islata Pueblo, we walked around, bought a few more baubbles, chatted with a couple of native American artists. We stowed our cameras in our backpacks because of the numerous “No Photos Allowed” signs. Spent the rest of the afternoon, sheltered from the oppressive heat at the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center nearby.
Storms were threatening, as we headed north to Bandolier National Monument Park, AZ – Juniper campgrounds. We set up camp as the thunder drew closer and closer. A sprinkle of rain drops started to fall. The tent was up, but as the shower turned to a downpour, we went into the car for shelter. Oh crap, the flaps of the tent were left open… during the 45 minute deluge. (hmmmm, guess it wasn’t the passing shower that Jene said it would be). Our bedding was soaked. (Luckily the other sleeping bag was still in the car and we hung the sheets out to dry). Double, full arched rainbows appeared but we could not locate the elusive pot of gold.
We took a scenic route to the Tent Rocks (which took about 3 hours longer). Again with threatening clouds, we hiked our way through the slot canyons. It’s amazing what the wind and water will do to sandstone. Mother nature’s sculptures.
Canyon de Chelley (pronounced de Shay) was our next stop. We hurriedly set up the campsite and fired up the coleman stove as the more darkening clouds move closer. We dined inside the tent as torrents of water pelted from the sky…
After breakafast, we drove to the north rim for some photos and on the way back, Jene pulled onto the shoulder to shoot some interesting rock formations. I heard a pop and then hissing – ohhhh CRAP – the new front tire was losing air. He ran over a cut metal post that stuck out only inches above the dirt and gravel. The closest Firestone Tire store was in Gallup, NM, nearly 100 miles back. We emptied the trunk, changed the flat, and headed there. The afternoon was folding into the evening when we stopped at Window Rock and the WWII commenorative statue of a Navaho Marine “coder”. The code that could not be broken, enabling the USA to win the battle at Iwo Jima. We got back to the Cottonwood campground 15 minutes before their cafe closed and the rains started. Not much you can do about the weather. The sky changes quickly but is really cool to witness how quickly what was puffy white and scattered clouds band together and grow dark and looming. July thru Sept in NM and AZ is monsoon season and the arid earth can’t absorb the rain so you get quick flash floods (which is how slot canyons were formed and why they change constantly).
To be continued: Monument Valley – on our way to the Grand Canyon.