Joe and I drove our ’95 van from Michigan to the Pacific Coast to visit our cherished extended family and see more of this great country. Here’s the next installment of our adventure...
Bryn-dog woke early in our (twentieth) hotel room in the little town of Lindsay, about 18 miles south of Sequoia National Park. Yawning and stretching she greeted us with a gentle nose-bump. We popped outside for her walk around the hotel property to do her duty and ‘read the news.’
After checking out at 7 a.m. we dialed in Zion National Park on our GPS. We’d been there once before about five years ago, and wanted to relive that marvelous experience.
The weather was still wonderful- 50s in the morning, then warming to 60s. Bryn was always happy to gaze outside from the van’s high back seat, or snooze. (Sometimes she’d wander up to the front seats, bumping her nose delicately on our sleeves just once, to let us know she was visiting.)
After about five hours, California lay behind us. We cut through Nevada’s lower corner, (whizzing past ‘been-there-done-that’ Las Vegas) and drove straight to the bottom of Utah. Three hours later, in early evening, we finally arrived in the little town of Springdale, Utah, just outside the park’s gates. The spacious, beautiful, (affordable in April!) La Quinta Inn, just a few steps off Main Street, had our room ready. Dogs weighing no more than 80 pounds are welcomed.
A small group of sixty-something guys wandered over to Joe’s vintage ’71 Honda motorcycle, which was secured to the van’s back end on a special carrier, and immediately exclaimed over the bike. (In the early ‘twenties a couple of farm boys, Harley and Davison, would race their home-built motorcycle, and they usually won. Triumphant, they’d scoop up their mascot, a burly hog from their farm, and roar around the track in a victory lap. Harley-Davisons are still referred to as hogs. (Their young motorcycle company tried to secure the word as their trademark (Harley Owners Group) but their claim was rejected in court. “It’s unprotectable,” said an appellate judge, “because that word has come to mean any large motorcycle.” He was right.)
One fellow, who had actually ridden Route 66 on his hog in ’88, told tales of his various experiences on that epic journey, amid lots of backslapping.
Our Honda certainly attracted lots of attention, even at gas stations. (More about that next week.)
We’d booked The La Quinta Inn for two nights, but this hotel, and the mountains were special, so a third night was booked. We needed the rest, and wanted to explore tiny Springdale and the park a bit more this time around.
But what about Bryn? She couldn’t just sit alone in our room all day. Dogs aren’t allowed in the park, and we couldn’t figure out how to include her if we motorcycled around...
But of course (big grin) I Had a Plan. Researching this trip in Michigan I’d struck gold. Two miles south of Springdale was the highly rated -get ready for it- Doggie Dude Ranch, outside the little town of Rockville. Here she could safely run about all day with canine friends. Usually reservations are required, but in April, the perfect time to be at Zion in my opinion, tourists sprinkle, rather than flood, the area, and it’s not hot. Prices for everything are much lower, too.
Next morning we drove into the countryside to the ranch. Wow! The rolling hills with its background of impressive mountains, were so beautiful!
Woofs could be heard as we took Bryn and her inoculation papers to the door of the ranch house and rang the bell.
The owner was really friendly: Bryn took to her right away. After introductions she sat, at my hand-command, and stared down the long path that led to her heart’s desire. Dogs, Boss!! Dogs!! Can I go there? (Bryn had been unable to stretch her legs much, except in Pasadena, which had a fine dogpark very near our hotel.) “You must wait a bit longer,” I cautioned, filling in the application blanks as fast as I could. She settled next to me, trembling with anticipation.
Less than ten minutes later her veterinary history had been approved. A cheerful caregiver strode up the long path, put a little string around her neck and walked her, prancing with delight, down to doggie paradise. Bryn never once looked back. She knew the drill. This day would be great fun. AND-family always returns.
She could race around with compatible dogs on this lovely spring day in 30,000 square feet of supervised, fenced playground, and splash around in the beautiful Virgin River, and gape at chickens and goats and horses and a cow, and even a donkey- It was ‘sniff heaven.’ There was even a huge shade tree to rest under, and I’d left Bully Bits for treats--- Life just didn’t get better!
We drove off, content. We could explore, hike and dine because our dog was in great hands.
That’s exactly how the day went. We parked again by our lovely room, then rode the free shuttlebus all the way to the far end of the park (about 45 minutes), and climbed down to the Virgin River to walk along its banks, scramble up boulders, and gape at the incredible natural architecture surrounding us. Zion is the oldest and most popular National Park in Utah (230 square miles/147,000 acres). It’s been carved out over 150 million years by this busy river. The landscape-- high plateaus, sheer canyons and monolithic cliffs-- is a climbers’ paradise. (Smudge-y bright dots half way up glass-smooth cliffs are actually people moving slowly skyward.
I shuddered. Not my thing. One misstep...)
Birders love coming here, too, to spot golden eagles and all manner of rare and special birds who make this glorious place their home.
Horses, saddled and ready, will take visitors far off the usual trails. Guides offer hikes and camping trips that might last up to three days.
Honestly, Zion is stunning. (After April, though, the park gets a lot hotter and much more crowded. Before April, snowstorms often block access.
For us, April is the ‘sweet’ month.)
Red and white Navajo sandstone mountains, some rising over 8,000 feet, were achingly beautiful in morning and evening light. And at about 10 p.m. every night a huge moon rose over the mountains. We sat outside our room on a comfy bench in thick grass, exclaiming.
Horse Ranch Mountain marks Zion’s highest point: 8,726 feet. The park’s terrain was blanketed in lush, emerald green, and yes, even snow, high up. The spring scent of blooming flowers and trees was delectable.
We encountered squirrels, who acted as though we were invisible. I practically fell over one little guy busily scarfing down a nut. This ecosystem is a paradise for animals, too. They don’t fear the Ultimate Predator.
We’d wanted to hike The Narrows, a deep canyon that has gorgeous, gigantic, eerily polished sandstone walls, but alas, it was forbidden today. Heavy rain high in the mountains was expected to rush down through that very narrow canyon opening, to sweep away- and drown- every living thing in its path.
(In April of 1995 heavy mountain rain engorged the river; boulders and dislodged trees were carried along until they rounded a bend close to the main park road. Blocked by massive debris, water rose to very high levels: the ‘dam’ gave. Released, debris-filled water roared downstream, crumbling a good part of the only road out of the park. Guests and employees at the Zion Lodge, deep inside the park, were trapped for days, while crews worked 24/7 to clear away the mess, open the clogged stream and rebuild the road. It was a shocking demonstration of the power of water.)
Oh, well...
We’d hike it next time.
We were served yummy dishes at restaurants a mere five-minute walk from our door. (Some establishments even allowed dogs, if their owners ate outside. We chose that option, as the evenings were pleasantly cool. Bryn tired, happy, and replete, sat quietly at our feet, watching people and their various pets wander by.)
The next day, when we turned into the Doggie Dude Ranch’s driveway again, she was thrilled.
By the way, each doggie ‘camper’s’ fun-packed nine-hour day cost just $21.00! What a bargain! And that day we hiked to the Emerald Pool, a sometimes strenuous half-mile journey each way, but worth the effort. water cascaded down from the mountaintops, coming to mist as it finally arrived where we stood. Magnificent!
We reluctantly left the third morning, to revisit another marvel, Arches National Park, a five-hour drive north, from Zion.
But something about the way the van drove didn’t feel quite right. It tended to move stiffly, I thought, and wasn’t as enthusiastic about the ups and downs of mountain highway travel...
“After these challenging 3,000 miles the old girl might need another oil change, just to be sure,” mused Joe...
Ha! Tune in next Sunday to find out what happened next!
