Discovering the weird and whimsical sites of New England
Vulture City is an intact ghost town and mine I thought would be a hoot to go visit. I poked around all day so that I could arrive at dusk or after dark. I learned the hard way that someone had claimed the town for their own, fencing it off and charging admission for tours which only ran until 2pm during the day. What’s the point of a ghost town if you can’t go when the spooks are out? Disappointed I decided not to stick around until the next morning and drove towards our next destination.
Alright, this time I was guilty of seeing a sign and going, “let’s go!” It’s not my fault though, as it was something I wanted to see, just something I had completely forgotten about. Apparently Arizona is the home to one of the most well preserved meteor craters on the globe. It’s 50,000 years old and absolutely huge. I paid $15 to see it and peruse their little museum. That was a bit pricey but whatever. Might as well see it now I’m here.
The place was huge, I walked around it on the little concrete steps and tried to grasp the enormity of it all. It was so wide I had to take two photos, one of each side, in order to get the whole thing. There were little periscopes labeled with different things. I looked through the one that said “house sized rock” and indeed, on the other side there was a house sized rock. They claimed the meteor that hit was 140 feet in width when it struck.
As with any of these attractions it was full of children. I didn’t stay long but it was very neat.
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So the Four Corners guy also told me the grand canyon has a North and South side.. something I probably should have known but I am finding the research t hat went before this trip to be… lacking. that wasn’t my department. That’s fine, though I did almost miss Valley of the Gods due to it and did miss the dinosaur footprints. SIGH. In any event, I decided to see the North side today. I drove only two and half hours and suddenly there’s trees, tall ones. With no warning whatsoever. They’re everywhere, pine, and they smell like home. I am suddenly hit with a pang of homesickness but its quickly disturbed by the sighting of an elk, real close. I took photos.
I walked the path to Bright Angel Point. Maybe I were just tired but none of it was that impressive. The trees were so much like home and the canyon? Yeah it was huge and all sorts of pretty colors but I’d been driving through much prettier all day. I’m going to the South canyon in the morning. It’s the more touristy side and I’ll see if I’m more impressed with it.
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I already had a pass to get into the Grand Canyon so I decided to check out the other side. For once I was I well slept and probably in a more open mood when I arrived. I drove into the visitor center which was overflowing with people. I loitered around looking at a stuffed raven and a stuffed cougar cub which had apparently been hit by a car. There were also displays of Indian ruins and pottery and geological information. I stopped at their bathroom, chuck full, didn’t feel like waiting so I drove off to see some of the views we could find.
I drove down the road a little ways and then pulled off at the first little parking area I found where people were gathering. It wasn’t as busy as the last place I’d been and best yet there was a raven sitting there begging for food. It made off with a cracker, flying into the canyon where it appeared to have a nest. I resumed looking around. The south side of the grand canyon is not obstructed by too many trees like the north is. You can see a lot and today I was impressed. Apparently my visibility was over 74 miles as I could easily recognize a mountain range that far away. I snapped some photos and then realized the raven was back, cocking its head and trying to figure out if there was more food. An entire rye biscuit was thrown at it. The bird looked at it, hopped around, gave a quizzical look, and decided against picking it up. However a minute later the raven decided the food was abandoned and picked up the whole cracker, flying away with his new treasure and landing somewhere on the rim of the canyon, probably trying to break it up.
The views of the canyon got more and more majestic the more I traveled down the road. I saw the canyon, the surrounding mountain ranges, peaks and eventually the river that winds down it. This wasn’t until the very last stop though. Here was a little pueblo, three stories high, you could walk up to get a better view. It was decorated with traditional Navajo paintings and there was a gift shop inside that had a lot of beautiful Navajo pottery as well as many other things. I climbed up as far as I could go and found a spectacular view, far too enormous and wild for any photo to ever do it justice but there it was stretched before me for miles and miles.
I had some tourists take photos and saw a strange little blue bird with a crazy head crest. later in my travels I would come to figure out it was a Steller’s Jay, something obscenely common yet so strange to me! It was so windy that day that even the ravens were being blown around and my hair stood straight up like a troll for the photograph. These were some heavy gusts! It was still worth it.
Now as to which side is better… the South side definitely has more people, but it also has numerous views and far more options on activities than the north side. The north side is great if you want to walk in the trees, see some elk, and get some nice glimpses of the canyon.
After the canyon visit I went up the road and stopped at the Little Colorado River Canyon. It was $2 a person and there was a nice Navajo market set up at the side. I went through it and took one last chance to marvel at their creativity and art. After this I saw the canyon itself, over the guard rails. It was alright, the market was more interesting…
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I was instructed to go to Horseshoe Bend by a friendly local Navajo man. It’s free and if you happen to be in the area you must go see it! Of course the heat was simply scorching and the hike was up a number of steep sand covered hills which I’ll admit were a huge challenge to someone as unfit as myself. Weeks driving a Jeep and eating nothing but PB&J’s had taken it’s toll. I felt like a smoker wheezing and gasping for air, clawing my way upwards like I was escaping Hell! Still once I got to the peak the view was staggeringly beautiful, a circular body of water with another piece of mountain jutting up from its center, so massive I couldn’t take a full photo of it. I walked around taking photos. I had a photo taken by a couple from Chicago and paid back the favor. Then I noticed a couple speaking Dutch which was a delightful change of pace from the Germans I saw everywhere else. Greetings were exchanged and photos were taken. I was just impressed by their intense baby buggy which looked like it might have four wheel drive. That thing was hardcore. And the baby? Most quiet and content new human I have ever seen. Apparently they were travelling from here to the grand canyon as a vacation, bringing their little bundle of joy along. I sort of wish I knew a language other than English. Perhaps someday.
When I walked back I saw some tracks in the sand. I identified them as those of a lizard and I were able to trace them to a rock where two adorable lizards were skittering about. On this little off-path detour I also found a weird bug and more brightly colored lizards. One of the strangest realizations I have had since coming out traveling is the fact lizards are everywhere. Hundred s of varieties, all different sizes, clinging to rocks, ground, and trees. I grew up and lived in New England where if you want to see a lizard you have to go to a pet store or zoo. I don’t think these free range reptiles will ever loose their charm in my eyes.
Let me tell you the hike back was brutal. Being the little wuss I am I took two long breaks and then thanked God when I could finally see the Jeep again. It was hot, I hadn’t eaten lunch, and I was both absolutely famished and thirstier than I’d ever been before.
Driving away from the area I passed and photographed the Vermillian Cliffs and a few other things. Everything was just so surreal. I am not sure I will ever believe I was once in a place so beautiful.
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Antelope Canyon is a guided tour done by the local Navajo. It’s a VERY bumpy ride getting there and a bit pricey at thirty something dollars a head but let me tell you… it was worth all this and more. This time I got to actually walk into the belly of the scenery I was admiring. Here was a brilliant red crevice in the rock, worn away in fantastic swooshes by sand, wind, and flood water. With every swirl you could see something even more profound.
It was a very short tour, if one were to just walk through it paying no attention it’d take maybe five minutes, but this would be a waste. I’ve never heard of Antelope Canyon but apparently others had. I shared my tour with a couple Australians and a number of French. One of the little French women attempted asking if I could take her and her boyfriend’s photo. This was done mostly through sign language since my French is pretty much gone (one of my few educational regrets…) I love the French. I love their stubborn insistence not to learn anything other than French. I have long since theorized the reasons French and Americans have such a hostile frenemy relationship is because we’re too alike. Go back to where you came from! BWAHAHAHA. Seriously though – French is such a beautiful language. I smile every time I hear it and am more than happy to snap a few tourist photos to have the privilege.
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I decided to go to the four corners because who wouldn’t at this point? I mean really, its there, might as well go. I sort of figured it’d be this lame monument in the middle of nowhere with nothing much going on around it. I also figured it’d be free. No, you do have to pay a few bucks to see it, nothing too extravagant though. I drove in and found it quite busy. People filed in and out, the vast majority were Americans this time. People came in and took photos of each other touching all four states at once. The usual staged touristy photos were taken.
Around the monument itself there were a few dozen little stands, all with Navajo craftsmen and women. They were selling everything from tacky little four corners memorabilia to hand crafted sand paintings, gorgeous pottery, and lots and lots and lots of jewelry and beadwork. The people selling the stuff all said hi and were very friendly. I talked to a few and one woman told me that the sand paintings were all made of locally collected pigments, taken from various rocks. This was amazing as they were so colorful. I ended up buying one (a depiction of a pot – unique from the other more traditional designs) for $15 as well as a magnet. I have a magnet for a number of my destinations now. It would forever remind me of the irony of the situation – a meaningless monument set up and run by Native Americans for white people to show them the lines they drew in the dirt for their states. I mean whoever thought of that was genius. Props to them!
It was sweltering and hot and I was hungry so I tried some “fried bread.” Turns out that this was just the local way of saying fried dough, which is fine. It marked the end of my fried food tour. I was eating it with cinnamon and sugar in the car when I heard a knock on the window. I looked up and there was a guy that I swear to God looked like the father on one of those crappy 80’s sitcoms, Family Ties, I think. Anyway, that’s aside the point..
“What town?” He said without even coming up with a proper greeting. I recognized his Yankee accent. He was either from New Hampshire or Vermont. Since there was a moment of confused silence the man repeated his question and I answered.. Turns out he was from Bennington Vermont and had been traveling for 16 years. He told me about the book Travelling on a Shoestring and a number of locations I could check out including Monument Valley, just an hour down that road there.
I ended up taking his advice and good thing or else I would have missed Valley of the Gods which would become one of my favorite destinations.
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I ended up in Roswell New Mexico because I’m just that fucking adorkable. I didn’t expect to see much but apparently main street has turned into an adorable alien mecca. There are clothes stores there who have alien masks fixed on their dummies and doleful looking wooden alien statues sitting out on the side walk. There was even one place who had little green alien footsteps running up the sidewalk. People had constructed their own little crashed UFOs and gift stores abounded. There was also a museum, however like most small towns everything closed at 6 and I drove in at 7. Only one gift store was open so I checked it out and awed at all the cuteness and fluff and geekery. It was too much – I had to come home with something. I ended up with a T-shirt reading, “fly it like you stole it.” That amused me way too much. I also ended up with a bumper sticker reading, “Buckle up, it makes it harder for them to suck you out of the car.” I mean… how cute is that?
I left laughing. It was such a dorky place to stop but so amusing. Even the local McDonalds was sporting aliens on their advertising and their parking lot and the bank as well! I like to see a town with a sense of humor.
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Congress Bridge is the home to the largest urban bat community in the world and every night four and a half million of the little beasties come flying out to fetch dinner. I battled the sun trying to get there before the big event. I parked a half mile away believing this was such an attraction there couldn’t possibly be any place closer. As it turns out there is a parking lot right next to the bridge that is pretty much for the bat people who gather every night. You have to get there early though because it was full.
I was thrilled to see people of all types walking towards the bridge and gathering both on the bridge and under it in a little park. I went under it and picked a spot on the grass to sit and wait. As dawn drew in a handful of bats, maybe 20 or so all together, started to file out one at a time, swooping down towards the crowd. After a few more bats came out the crowd suddenly got up and left. I wanted to stay and keep watching because the cacophony of squeaking was still overwhelming. More people left until there were perhaps ten people under the bridge still. I’d been having trouble with the camera which didn’t like the night photography. I got up to take a closer look and walked to the end of the bridge… now this is where all the action is! If you go to watch the bats go to the fence bordering the water. The bats were coming out of that little area like water, thousands of them swooping by in seconds. The people above this one particular location were also getting a show, and the only people left on the bridge. We walked up there and watched awhile too. It was amazing. I can’t believe how many of the little boogers were still pouring out. It made me so happy to watch them. I didn’t really think I’d get that much of a kick out of it but how cool is that, that these bats are living, in the millions, under a bridge, in the middle of a huge city, and people are gathering in support of them? It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I was practically skipping back to the car.
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You know how much of a sucker I am for “World’s Largest Whatevers.” Today it was World’s Largest Banjo because why not? When in Rome (or Missouri…)
So I ended up, for some odd reason, driving through Branson Missouri. It was such a weird thing, like driving through the Twilight Zone. I couldn’t tell what was reality anymore. On every nook and cranny of the city there was some sort of fantasy tourist trap… Go golfing with pirates! Go to an indoor water park! Elvis, Elvis, Elvis, oh my god, look! More Elvis! What was up with all the Elvis stuff? And the Old West mock-ups? And the Indiana Jones stuff? And the themed restaurants? This place was creepy, and didn’t have that many people in it. It was strange. The amusement park stood still, the two outdoor water parks stood dry. It was just creepy. “Where am I? Did I just re-enter the 80’s?” I never did find that damn Banjo…
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