Wednesday night in Park City was awesome! We met up with Tori’s cousins, Justin and Alexis, their daughter Lucy, and Alexis’s parents Aldonna and Bob. We got to hang out at Justin and Alexis’s house and use their wireless internet to our hearts’ content, which was totally thrilling. Their house, by the way, is quite possibly the loveliest house we’ve had the opportunity to hang out at thus far. It’s a rustic yet elegant Southwestern beauty, replete with a sunny new addition and bountiful garden. We were very impressed by the large crops of potatoes, kale, lettuce, herbs and even raspberries (!) they had cultivated under the hot Utah sun.
Alexis prepared a beautiful picnic lunch for us: pesto, tomato, salmon (chicken for stew) and bleu cheese sandwiches, plus even more yummy ingredients that made our tummies sing with anticipation. These glorious sandwiches were accompanied by kale and red potato salad, both fresh from Justin and Alexis’s garden. It was incredibly refreshing to eat such fresh and delicious food after days of dehydrated and/or processed crud. Tori almost about decided she wasn’t going any further on this road trip, but was going to stay in Park City forever!
That night we went to see the Detonators, a local Park City band, play for free at Deer Valley ski resort. It was a very cute scene, made all the more fun by little Lucy and her playmates, who ran all over the hill playing gleefully. Totally adorable. Of course, watching bedraggled parents scramble after their curious children was equally entertaining. We got to meet Justin and Alexis’s playgroup parent friends, which was a new and different experience for us. I guess after you have college friends and work friends, you have playgroup friends. Weird. After the show it was back to Justin and Lex’s for a few glasses of wine and stimulating conversation, then to bed.
The drive from Park City to St.George, UT was fairly uneventful. We tried to stop at a Sonic to get some grilled cheese sandwiches and tater tots, advertised for $1.99 on a billboard. Unfortunately, we could not find the restaurant (it was 4 miles down a main strip of stop lights) so we gave up and went to Taco Time. Taco Time rules, so it wasn’t a very hard decision. Turns out Taco Time isn’t only in Wyoming, but is a chain all over the West Coast. This Taco Time visit included the first time that we encountered Rica Horchata, a rice/cinnamon drink served at a soda fountain that tastes like a milkshake. After several scorching hours later, we arrived in St. George where we struggled to find our campsite. The city has expanded explosively in the last 10 years and some hotels are about the same price as the campground....but they also look like the kind of hotels that make you want to camp.
Eventually, we found the park amidst a plethora of spas, all seemingly owned by the same company given that they had the exact same font on their signs. Not very sneaky, Red Mountain Spa and Red Spring Spa: We’re on to you. The campground now has some lame rules about climbing on rocks because too many people have been injured in the last 10 years and it is too much of a liability, which we think is a total bummer. We found the site Stew stayed in 10 years ago, but opted for a very remote spot instead. The site was $16, which we thought was a little bit expensive. That night we went for a hike down “Hidden Pinyon,” and saw some beautiful rock formations, as well as a bunch of lizards, birds, and a few bunnies. We returned to our campsite, ate some cold pasta salad, drank margaritas, and went to sleep.
We awoke early the next morning, baking in the hot desert sun. We had both thrown off our sleeping bags in a desperate attempt to prevent overheating, but eventually we just woke up in order to get out of our sauna of a tent. The park ranger advised us to go on a hike called “Petrified Dunes” and alleged that it looked like the famous “Wave” formation of a nearby park. It didn’t look like the Wave, but it did look like petrified dunes. You can see the pictures: they are quite breathtaking. We also climbed around on the rocks around our campsite illegally, just enough to stick it to the man. When we were done hiking, we showered, ate another meal of cold pasta salad, and got in the car. Both of us were really cranky and nauseas. After a while of fighting, we realized neither of us had had water in almost a day and that we were just incredibly dehydrated. After splitting a gallon of water, we felt much better.
The drive to the Grand Canyon took a lot longer than we anticipated, largely due to errors in navigation. We spent an extra half hour driving, but we got to drive on a cliff overlooking a gorgeous series of lakes. All of the towns looked like they sucked. Upon returning through them the next day, this hypothesis was confirmed ($65 for an oil change?!?). Somewhat hilariously, the lawyers office, sheriffs office, and gas station were all the same building in Fredonia. This is opposite the rather elaborate complex of some Indian Pottery Barn, where they claim “Not made in China.” This claim is made on a sign that has been pasted on top of a previous claim (apparently no longer true) “Made in America.” WTF, Fredonia. WTF.
The rest of the drive was through expansive deserts. At one point, we went about 100 miles and saw only one building: a collapsing stable. Then we went up a mountain for along time. The car did not like the steepness of it, and we had to pull off to let RV’s pass us going up hill. This is the definition of emasculation according to Stewart’s dictionary of applied definitions. When we arrived at Kaibab State Park, we talked to the woman at the information station in an attempt to find a way around paying the $25 entrance fee. We found two, but neither seemed ideal, and so decided to pay the seemingly outrageous fee in order to see the North Rim in all its glory. We justified it by eating canned beans for lunch and camping in the National Forest for free. The hikes and overlooks were stunning. When Stew went as a kid, he was not scared at all and thought the view was unimpressive. This time, he learned that he had grown into a scaredy cat and hugged the walls as he walked toward the overlook. The view was unbelievable. You can't even see the bottom of the Grand Canyon at points! By the time we finished tromping around, the $25 fee seemed entirely justified.
We camped by the East Rim of the Grand Canyon. This is a considerably more lush face of the canyon, albeit not nearly as deep or grand. We made a fire and prepared another bowl of bean/ramen/soup/random stuff which weighed heavy in our bellies. It took all our energy to read underneath a tree while the sun set. Unfortunately, we couldn’t sleep well because of some really creepy noises coming from outside our tent. The people just down the road from us had a pair of large dogs which had been running amuck, so we assumed that they were the source of the rustling in the grasses surrounding our tent. However, they did not bark or pant, nor did they scatter when we yelled “Hello?” Whatever was outside our tent was never identified, but led to poor nights sleep. Tori was 100% convinced that all the ghosts of the people who died at the Grand Canyon were marching on parade.
We woke safely, though tired, and immediately hit the road to start on another long haul. We left the Grand Canyon before 9 a.m. and began backtracking toward St. George. The drive was shorter this time, as we travelled mainly downhill and could maintain the speed limit. We got an oil change at Slick Willey’s Lube for just under $40, but it included a super deluxe carwash. The majority of the sand we had accumulated was gone afterwards. We felt cleaner having the outside of the car washed, even if it was filthy on the inside and we still stunk like skunks.
Several hours into the drive, we stopped for lunch in Las Vegas. We tried to get some fresh food at a place called “Farmer Boys,” but it turned out to be overpriced burgers. This did not appeal to our hungry, poor bellies, which craved something natural and fresh. Maria’s Taqueria supplied delicious food at low prices, even if it was not exactly the fresh vegetables and fruit that we were looking for. The woman there (Maria?) gave us some food for free because we told her about our journey. She was initially sad that we were not going to her home country, but then when we told her we were travelling between countries, she told us we should not, under any terms, go to southern Mexico. Mexicans, it seems, generally advise people not to go to Mexico (except for a few areas) right now. They seem almost enthusiastically discouraging about it: Don’t go to Mexico now; it is usually beautiful but right now you will see only violence. Wait until it gets better. Tori informs me that the reason Mexico is in such dire straits (unfortunately I am not referring to anyone’s colored TV, microwave, or refrigerator) is due to the current government’s campaign to stop drug cartels. It seems that Mexico is only a good place to visit as long as the government cooperates with the drug cartels and pay offs continue to maintain the peace, even if they are done illegally.
The drive from Vegas to LA is hot. How hot? Hotter than air conditioning can account for. Here’s a little demonstration of how %&$*(#( the Mojave Desert is:
In St. George, Tori guessed the temperature to be 90 degrees Fahrenheit. It was 102 degree F. We were basically fine outside, walking around.
In the Mojave desert, we had A/C, were just sitting in the car, dripping sweat, and were incredibly hot. At one point, a thermometer informed us it was 112 degrees. I assume Celsius.
We thought people drove crazy on 495 around D.C. LA redefines crazy driving. Words cannot describe the frenzied tornado of metal, oil, and Mustang that is “The Ten.” I guess I just did describe it. Sweet. (On a side note, what is up with the use of definite articles in place of the noun for describing roads in LA? IE Highway 10=The Ten, Route 101= The 101. Ponder this, my friends.)
When we arrived in LA, we met up with Stew’s friend from his Peru study abroad program, Jamie. She has a beautiful apartment a block of Sunset Ave in the so called “Rock and Roll” part of “Boys Town.” Seriously, even the Thai restaurant is rock and roll themed. There was also a clothing store called “Pop Killers,” which featured a hat identical to one we saw at the World’s Largest Prairie Dog tourist trap. It was ironic and fashionable at one, but not the other. Interesting how that plays out. We went out for dinner at a straight forward Thai restaurant that was delicious and reasonably priced. Stew and Tori also experienced sake for the first time, at Jamie’s behest. We expected the worst, given the reviews generally given and its reputation as a shot, rather than a beverage. It was rather pleasant, actually, though not a particularly complex flavor. After dinner, we retired to Jamie’s apartment where we relaxed in the pool and hot tub before eventually painting a picture together and calling it a night.
The next morning we went on a hike up Runyon’s Canyon, the thing to do if you like the outdoors and are in LA. Jamie told us that she has seen many celebrities on this surprisingly remote hike, located right in the middle of the city. This include Quentin Tarantino, Nicole Richie, and Kevin Bacon. Basically, you walk up hill from Jamie’s house until to get to the house where they filmed “Entourage,” and then turn right. Nifty. We returned to Jamie’s after the exhausting hike, which we believe was made considerably more difficult by the proximity to the massive fire and smoke clouds just over the hill. We showered and went to a grocery store affectionately referred to as “Rock and Roll Ralph’s.” It is our belief that this is the same as Kroger on the East Coast. We purchased sandwiches and ingredients for dinner.
We spent the afternoon relaxing by the pool and meeting Jamie’s neighbors, who evidently throw a party on the roof/pool deck every Saturday and Sunday. One turned out to be from Yorktown, VA, also known as “The Place Where We Won the War.” They were all very welcoming and one man (Eddie?) gave us a drink he had made from freshly juiced watermelons and cantaloupes (and lots of vodka). When the evening came, it was time for us to head out to the “El Rey Theatre,” where we were going to see Dredg and RX Bandits. Jamie knew the former band from about 8 years ago when they first got signed and were recording a record near her home in Palm Desert, so she was really excited to see them again. Stew just loves a punk show, and was stoked to go dance around like a 12 year old high on pixie sticks and Mountain Dew. The show was great, though there were truly a hilarious number of punkers taking videos of the mosh pit with I-Phones. Another memorable moment came when someone shushed the audience. WhuH? After the show, we made taco salad. It was awesome.
Thanks so much to Jamie for being such a gracious, welcoming, and amazing hostess! Thanks to Jamie, we had a totally rad time in LA. Not only are Stew and Tori finally up on the cool lingo, hot fashion items, and sweetest things to do, we think LA is a great town and want to go back. Shocker, huh?
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