Las Vegas is, well, Las Vegas. Always has been for years and probably always will be. Huge casinos, the fat and gross of America eating for all they are worth, a city of Chinese and Japanese tourists and of course us.
We are staying in The Signature at the MGM Grand which is a complex of three massive tower blocks up to 35 stories tall but with one unusual feature for this city. No slots or gambling of any kind on the property. Players can walk through to the MGM Grand if they want to but nothing here otherwise than a very nice hotel.
Tomorrow morning we start the long shlep home but one final road trip story before we go.
Yesterday, both desperate and grateful for a meat meal, we drove over to the Haifa Restaurant on E.Twain at lunchtime. Besides one other couple we were the only people in the place. Our server, an elderly black guy, Favio, wearing a neat soft cap started asking us questions about dollar/sterling exchange rates. He is a collector and dealer of jazz LPs and 78s and he does a lot of business in the UK because no one in the US wants to buy old 78s. Our lunch came - matzo ball soup and meat and chips for Mrs Superpharm, Yemenite soup and schwarma in pita for me; ecstasy after nearly three weeks away from a proper kosher meal - the other couple, a young couple paid their bill and sat waiting for a taxi to take them back to the Strip. We finished our meal, paid and got ready to leave, the young couple were still sitting and waiting for a cab. We asked them where they were staying and would they like a lift. They gratefully said yes and we started talking to them. A Brazilian couple from Sao Paulo on honeymoon, they had been married a few days ago. The husband is from a Syrian family and is a trader in stationery in his father's business. Even though they are Sephardi the rav of their shul is Lubavitch which probably isn't that strange anyway. Vegas was their first stop on an very enviable journey. From Nevada they were flying to Los Angeles for a short stay then on to Tahiti before going on to Bora Bora before finally staying in Hawaii before flying back to Brazil. A nice couple, she just 20 he 28, ww were delighted to offer them a lift, to wish them mazel tov and to deliver them safely to the front of the Bellagio.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Williams's Grand Motel
To get the full Route 66 experience we decided that we had to spend a couple of nights in a motel actually on Route 66. But not an average, run of the mill motel chain motel, rather something more evocative of Route 66 as it was before the coming of the Interstate. That is why we checked into The Grand Motel in Williams Arizona and met the owner Bob.
The Grand Motel was built as a motor court in 1937 before the term motel was invented in the 1950s and because of the lack of interest of previous owners the motel still has many of the 1930s features such as tiled bathrooms, period furniture and generally an air of not so genteel decay. Bob bought the motel four years ago from its previous owners, a couple in their 70s, who decided that they wanted to go into the motel business after their retirement. They really bought the business for its real estate potential and did hardly anything to the property. In fact in the winter they closed the place down and moved into another motel they owned in the area. After a career in the US military, a flier for Air America in S.E.Asia, a pilot for Grand Canyon Airlines and a number of other jobs later, Bob and his wife bought the Grand Motel both as a business and also for its real estate potential.
Through both a lack of finance and Bob's obvious wish to keep the quirky nature of the motel, the 1930s atmosphere has been retained. In fact he has done very little to the motel but what it lacks in modern day creature comforts is made up for by Bob's genial 'my host' attitude. How many hotels or motels can you be told at check-in where NOT to eat in a town.
"Don't eat in the restaurant next to the tourist centre in the railway station. I've had 9 guests who have eaten there complain of stomach upsets and no one working on the railway will eat there. Try the Red Raven its the best place in town. The chef does some special touches like putting herbs in the butter for the bread on the table."
Bob serves breakfast on the motel patio every morning and this is a great way for his guests to meet and talk to each other. Bob sits down with everyone, asks questions and generally acts as the perfect host.
So, his coffee isn't great and the foam plates and cups blow around a lot in the wind but how often can you say that you have sat outside on a sunny morning, eating breakfast while Route 66 crawls slowly past.
At night we sat on the patio with Bob and talked as he told us a little about his life running the motel. Four people walked into the court.
"Can I help you?" Bob called out.
They were looking for rooms for the next night; we heard the sound of Hebrew as they talked between themselves; they looked at us and started speaking to us in Hebrew. Why? They had seen that we were both wearing Crocs and they assumed that we were therefore Israeli. They were a couple from Netanya with their son who is studying animation at university in San ?Francisc and his wife.
Even at after 11 at night people were driving up looking for a room. One night a car came into the court, Bob went over to greet them, a deal was done, Bob hung a 'No Vacancy' sign outside the motel office then went to switch off the 'Vacancy' sign on his illuminated street sign.
"Last room gone?" I said to Bob.
"Yeah, full house. Someone who had made a reservation came in earlier, looked at the room and said his wife wouldn't like it. I charged him $20 cancellation then that guy just drove up so I gave him a good deal on the room so he took it. I have to get the guy in 11 out tomorrow morning at 5. He came in asking for a long-term rental which I don't like, he's trashing the room and he's smoking in it too. Thinks I won't see the butts all over it. He's out in the morning."
Bob told us a little about Williams. A now sleepy little place it had once been a busy town because of the timber business in the area and because of the railway that runs through it. One place, the Red Garter, used to be a saloon and brothel with 9 'cribs' upstairs as well as a often frequented outhouse. It is now a small, four bedroom hotel and coffee shop that gave up 'trade' as late as 1948. The present owners say that one of the girls from the 'good old days' still lives in the town though she has long retired.
Williams held out against the interstate for as long as it could but finally had to acquiesce to the inevitable march of progress however the town managed to negotiate a concession for itself of having three junctions put onto I-40 to give people access to the town. Imagine, a town of a thousand or so inhabitants, a short main street and three exits to the Interstate. When the day came to open the intersections everyone in town started using them and it is rumoured that there was hardly any traffic on Main Street for nearly three weeks.
So, it was good bye to Bob, his bonhomie and his period motel with flaking paint and sagging chairs, to the Travelling Blues Man in room 4 who went out at night dressed all in black like a Sergio Leone cowboy and the lady who rents room 1 as a base for her elk and buffalo jerky business. An interesting place to stay if ever you are in Williams, Arizona.
The Grand Motel was built as a motor court in 1937 before the term motel was invented in the 1950s and because of the lack of interest of previous owners the motel still has many of the 1930s features such as tiled bathrooms, period furniture and generally an air of not so genteel decay. Bob bought the motel four years ago from its previous owners, a couple in their 70s, who decided that they wanted to go into the motel business after their retirement. They really bought the business for its real estate potential and did hardly anything to the property. In fact in the winter they closed the place down and moved into another motel they owned in the area. After a career in the US military, a flier for Air America in S.E.Asia, a pilot for Grand Canyon Airlines and a number of other jobs later, Bob and his wife bought the Grand Motel both as a business and also for its real estate potential.
Through both a lack of finance and Bob's obvious wish to keep the quirky nature of the motel, the 1930s atmosphere has been retained. In fact he has done very little to the motel but what it lacks in modern day creature comforts is made up for by Bob's genial 'my host' attitude. How many hotels or motels can you be told at check-in where NOT to eat in a town.
"Don't eat in the restaurant next to the tourist centre in the railway station. I've had 9 guests who have eaten there complain of stomach upsets and no one working on the railway will eat there. Try the Red Raven its the best place in town. The chef does some special touches like putting herbs in the butter for the bread on the table."
Bob serves breakfast on the motel patio every morning and this is a great way for his guests to meet and talk to each other. Bob sits down with everyone, asks questions and generally acts as the perfect host.
So, his coffee isn't great and the foam plates and cups blow around a lot in the wind but how often can you say that you have sat outside on a sunny morning, eating breakfast while Route 66 crawls slowly past.At night we sat on the patio with Bob and talked as he told us a little about his life running the motel. Four people walked into the court.
"Can I help you?" Bob called out.
They were looking for rooms for the next night; we heard the sound of Hebrew as they talked between themselves; they looked at us and started speaking to us in Hebrew. Why? They had seen that we were both wearing Crocs and they assumed that we were therefore Israeli. They were a couple from Netanya with their son who is studying animation at university in San ?Francisc and his wife.
Even at after 11 at night people were driving up looking for a room. One night a car came into the court, Bob went over to greet them, a deal was done, Bob hung a 'No Vacancy' sign outside the motel office then went to switch off the 'Vacancy' sign on his illuminated street sign.
"Last room gone?" I said to Bob.
"Yeah, full house. Someone who had made a reservation came in earlier, looked at the room and said his wife wouldn't like it. I charged him $20 cancellation then that guy just drove up so I gave him a good deal on the room so he took it. I have to get the guy in 11 out tomorrow morning at 5. He came in asking for a long-term rental which I don't like, he's trashing the room and he's smoking in it too. Thinks I won't see the butts all over it. He's out in the morning."
Bob told us a little about Williams. A now sleepy little place it had once been a busy town because of the timber business in the area and because of the railway that runs through it. One place, the Red Garter, used to be a saloon and brothel with 9 'cribs' upstairs as well as a often frequented outhouse. It is now a small, four bedroom hotel and coffee shop that gave up 'trade' as late as 1948. The present owners say that one of the girls from the 'good old days' still lives in the town though she has long retired.
Williams held out against the interstate for as long as it could but finally had to acquiesce to the inevitable march of progress however the town managed to negotiate a concession for itself of having three junctions put onto I-40 to give people access to the town. Imagine, a town of a thousand or so inhabitants, a short main street and three exits to the Interstate. When the day came to open the intersections everyone in town started using them and it is rumoured that there was hardly any traffic on Main Street for nearly three weeks.
So, it was good bye to Bob, his bonhomie and his period motel with flaking paint and sagging chairs, to the Travelling Blues Man in room 4 who went out at night dressed all in black like a Sergio Leone cowboy and the lady who rents room 1 as a base for her elk and buffalo jerky business. An interesting place to stay if ever you are in Williams, Arizona.
Route 66
What about Route 66? Well here it is.
This evocative two lane road linking Chicago with Los Angeles and passing through small towns and large cities was the only practical route linking the east coast and the mid-west with California and all places in between. Diners, gas stations, motor courts and tourist traps opened in some of the most isolated areas of America through the 30s and 40s until the newly built interstate highway system finally replaced it in the 1980s. The Department of Transportation finally rang the death knell for Route 66 when overnight on one night in 1984, all the Route 66 signs were taken down right along the route and only signs to the interstate system remained. Towns decayed and died and it is only in the last five or ten years that they have come back to life of sorts through the efforts of these towns to resurrect some of the memories of an America long gone that Route 66 now recalls.
To complicate things Route 66 took different directions at different times in the 30s and 40s as cities such as Santa Fe and Albuquerque in New Mexico, for instance, expanded. However with the use of a good guide book and the 'Historic Route 66' road signs throughout Arizona and New Mexico, we could recapture some of the magic of this archetypal road.
Interstate-40 in Arizona runs parallel to sections of Route 66 that still remain drivable and we first picked up it up through the town of Holbrook where one of the sites of Route 66 still remains in operation. The last WigWam Motel is on 66 as the road goes westwards out of the town.
These concrete wigwams are still in use though we decided against staying in one as the railroad runs just behind them and federal law obliges all trains to sound their horns as they approach crossings with roads whether it be day or night; their noise can be deafening.
We picked up the road again as it ran through Flagstaff then Williams of which more later then on through other towns, past isolated road stops such as the Hackberry general store,
I stood on the corner in Winslow, Arizona
the Roadkill Cafe,
a large green tiki outside a disused motel - why it is there no one remembers,
a beauty and barber shop with a DeSoto on its roof
and then we went north towards Las Vegas as Route 66 went on towards California.
This evocative two lane road linking Chicago with Los Angeles and passing through small towns and large cities was the only practical route linking the east coast and the mid-west with California and all places in between. Diners, gas stations, motor courts and tourist traps opened in some of the most isolated areas of America through the 30s and 40s until the newly built interstate highway system finally replaced it in the 1980s. The Department of Transportation finally rang the death knell for Route 66 when overnight on one night in 1984, all the Route 66 signs were taken down right along the route and only signs to the interstate system remained. Towns decayed and died and it is only in the last five or ten years that they have come back to life of sorts through the efforts of these towns to resurrect some of the memories of an America long gone that Route 66 now recalls.
To complicate things Route 66 took different directions at different times in the 30s and 40s as cities such as Santa Fe and Albuquerque in New Mexico, for instance, expanded. However with the use of a good guide book and the 'Historic Route 66' road signs throughout Arizona and New Mexico, we could recapture some of the magic of this archetypal road.
Interstate-40 in Arizona runs parallel to sections of Route 66 that still remain drivable and we first picked up it up through the town of Holbrook where one of the sites of Route 66 still remains in operation. The last WigWam Motel is on 66 as the road goes westwards out of the town.
These concrete wigwams are still in use though we decided against staying in one as the railroad runs just behind them and federal law obliges all trains to sound their horns as they approach crossings with roads whether it be day or night; their noise can be deafening.
We picked up the road again as it ran through Flagstaff then Williams of which more later then on through other towns, past isolated road stops such as the Hackberry general store,
I stood on the corner in Winslow, Arizona
the Roadkill Cafe,
a large green tiki outside a disused motel - why it is there no one remembers,
a beauty and barber shop with a DeSoto on its roof
and then we went north towards Las Vegas as Route 66 went on towards California.
A Monumental Site
Have you ever seen the John Ford film 'Stagecoach'? Do you remember the huge stone rolling and almost crushing Harrison Ford at the beginning of 'Raiders of the Lost Ark'? Have you ever wondered where some of the sequences in those movies were filmed? The answer is Monument Valley which starts in Arizona then straddles and is mostly in Utah. This isn't a national park but instead is owned by the Navajo nation who live around and inside the park. This means that all access to the area is controlled by the Navajo, any travel off road into restricted areas inside the park can only be done with a Navajo guide.
Pathways and tracks off the highway around the park have signs saying 'Tourists Keep Out!' There is a 'scenic drive' through the park along an unmade track but only motorists who want to damage their tyres should really attempt it. Camping isn't allowed in the park and the only place to stay close to the park is Goulding's Lodge, a hotel and trading post that was set up in the 1930s by a Mr Goulding who, with John Ford, spent a lot of time inside the Navajo reservation looking at the strange rock structures and giving them names that would better attract tourists from California. So as a convenience to visitors there is the Elephant Rock, the Castle Rock, The Boot Rock and so on which are not the names that the Navajo use.We stayed in the nearby town of Kayenta which is also on Navajo land so some apparently strange rules applied. No alcohol appeared to be available anywhere. This meant that only expensive non-alcoholic wine or Kaliber non-alcoholic beer was on sale in the hotel which obviously didn't have a bar anyway. The Navajo nation keep to Mountain Standard Time but use Daylight Saving Time in the summer unlike the rest of Arizona - or is it the other way around? - but have the same time as Utah some of the time. This only became obvious when we checked into the hotel after booking a guide to take us around the park for 9.00am the following morning. We discovered that the hotel and the Navajo nation were an hour ahead of what we thought the time was. We never really found out when we should have got the hour back but instead we just put our watches to the rest of Arizona when we left the park, saved an hour and all seemed to be back in sequence when we finally stopped in Flagstaff later the next day.
Our guide, Dan, drove us round Monument Valley in a tribal owned Jeep which had to be the most beaten up and spartan 4x4 in the area.
Different guides drive different pool vehicles so as long as the engine works and the Jeep drives OK no one seems to worry about anything else. We weren't the first tourists of the day - a few had gone out soon after daybreak - but apart from a group of Japanese in a truck a few miles ahead we were for all intents the only vehicle in the park yet. Dan took us off road, showed us where water can be found for most of the year even in this arid, harsh environment, told us a little about life on the reservation and took us to meet a Navajo weaver who lives in an isolated canyon well off the beaten track."For a couple of dollars she will show you how she weaves", Dan said.
Not wanting to disturb the normal order of life we said that we wanted to meet her so we turned into her canyon, went up to her hogan - a Navajo building of juniper wood and stones covered with a thick coating of adobe to make it weatherproof - knocked on the wooden door but got no reply.
"She's not home", Dan said, "she may have gone to see one of her children early in the morning before the tourists arrive or she may have gone to buy groceries".
"Will she have gone to Basha's", - a chain of stores that we had seen that seemed to have the monopoly in Navajo lands - I asked. We had been into one in Tuba City to buy food for lunch the day previous and had been surprised how expensive a lot of goods were. There were offers on Navajo staples like Spam, mutton and corn husks but other lines were much more expensive than in stores elsewhere.
Dan smiled, "Oh no, she has probably driven up to Cortez (a town some distance away in Utah). We try to go to Wal*Mart if we can".
Dan drove us on up and down small tracks. We stopped at a photo-opportunity overlooking the mesa that was in 'Stagecoach' the John Wayne film of 1936 and which is a popular tourist stop-off. There was a sign saying 'Pictures on a horse $1' but where was the horse.
"Oh he's probably off having breakfast. Its still early for him." Dan said with a smile on his face.
Towards the end of our two and a half hours with Dan we drove back to the car park and places that a few hours earlier we had had to ourselves were now filling with clusters of tourists all taking the ideal Monument Valley picture. Drivers were attempting the self- drive through park route, in ordinary road cars and some even in large motor homes. The Navajo were out selling trinkets to passers-by.
We were so glad that for a couple of hours at least we had virtually had Monument Valley to ourselves.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
A Desert and a Forest
Last Thursday was another day visiting national parks, this time the Petrified Forest NP which includes the Painted Desert. Both, in different ways, were breathtaking experiences. The realisation that what is now desert was once prehistoric swampland and forest became more imaginable when we looked at the square mile after square mile of petrified wood spread across the landscape.
Whole trees had been slowly transformed into quartz and though the area had been used as a source of building material by Pueblo people in the past they made no great impact on the petrified trees. There were still masses of stone trees almost sprinkled like broken and discarded giant matchsticks on top of the sand. It was only when in the 19th Century that opportunist souvenir hunters and traders who made good livings taking the petrified wood out of the area by the wagon load started to impact on the 'wood'. The government created the park in 1906. to start to preserve the area.
Further on the road goes up from the remains of the prehistoric forest, scrub and brush takes over until suddenly we drove over a ridge and saw a huge pink and red and yellow depression in the earth which seemed to go for almost ever.
This was the Painted Desert. The colours which are produced by the prescence of different minerals in the sand and rock structures change colour through out the day and to take advantage of this tourist opportunity a local homesteader, Herbert Lore, built a lodge in 1924 to water, feed and provide a bed for the night for intrepid motorists who made their way out into the wilderness. And all this before any roads into this part of Arizona had been built. For $2-$4 a night they could stay in the inn, eat sandwiches or steaks and sit in the downstairs bar and look at the changing desert below them. Herbert Lore also offered his own car drives through the desert so that his visitors could better see the natural phenomenon. 
His Desert Inn was reopened as a ranger station and information centre in 2006 and it overlooks one of the understandably most popular view points in the park. We got there just after a bus full of high school students from Spartanburg, South Carolina on a cross American trip had stopped just ahead of us. The peace and tranquility of the moment was obviously lost but instead we were granted the opportunity of seeing an unusual way of taking a group picture in front of one of Nature's marvels in this part of Arizona. 
Whole trees had been slowly transformed into quartz and though the area had been used as a source of building material by Pueblo people in the past they made no great impact on the petrified trees. There were still masses of stone trees almost sprinkled like broken and discarded giant matchsticks on top of the sand. It was only when in the 19th Century that opportunist souvenir hunters and traders who made good livings taking the petrified wood out of the area by the wagon load started to impact on the 'wood'. The government created the park in 1906. to start to preserve the area.
Further on the road goes up from the remains of the prehistoric forest, scrub and brush takes over until suddenly we drove over a ridge and saw a huge pink and red and yellow depression in the earth which seemed to go for almost ever.
This was the Painted Desert. The colours which are produced by the prescence of different minerals in the sand and rock structures change colour through out the day and to take advantage of this tourist opportunity a local homesteader, Herbert Lore, built a lodge in 1924 to water, feed and provide a bed for the night for intrepid motorists who made their way out into the wilderness. And all this before any roads into this part of Arizona had been built. For $2-$4 a night they could stay in the inn, eat sandwiches or steaks and sit in the downstairs bar and look at the changing desert below them. Herbert Lore also offered his own car drives through the desert so that his visitors could better see the natural phenomenon. 
His Desert Inn was reopened as a ranger station and information centre in 2006 and it overlooks one of the understandably most popular view points in the park. We got there just after a bus full of high school students from Spartanburg, South Carolina on a cross American trip had stopped just ahead of us. The peace and tranquility of the moment was obviously lost but instead we were granted the opportunity of seeing an unusual way of taking a group picture in front of one of Nature's marvels in this part of Arizona. 
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
All on the Turn of a Card
Tonight we are in a small motel in a town in the mountains of eastern Arizona called Show Low which is just north of the White Mountain Apache Reservation lands. After yet another drive through breath taking scenery down one side of the San Carlos Canyon, across the Salt River then up the other side after driving over the El Capitan Pass 
which was first discovered by Kit Carson some years before he guided an American Army expedition into California over it in 1846, we reached a viewpoint called Becker Butte Lookout which gave us a true 'Kodak Moment'.
Later on, after driving through the Tonto Forest we got to Show Low and checked into our motel on a road called West Deuce of Clubs. Great names if a trifle unusual. What is the story behind them?
Back in the 1860s two men who had set up a large ranch in the area decided that they wanted to end their business relationship. But how were they to decide who would buy out who? Through a card game of course. They played and played but neither one was able to eliminate the other so finally they decided to cut cards and whoever 'showed low' would buy out the other and keep the ranch. The first player cut the pack and cut the deuce of clubs! Game, set and match to him. So that is why the town that was incorporated on part of the ranch land in 1870 is called Show Low and the main road through it is named Deuce of Clubs.
So here we are tonight, in a motel in Show Low, dining from a surprisingly good selection of kosher food from the local Safeway heated up in the room microwave and drinking Red Hook Long Hammer IPA. However, since there doesn't appear to be any Jewish community within miles of this place, did Safeway decide to stock a kosher range just for us? The mystery deepens.
which was first discovered by Kit Carson some years before he guided an American Army expedition into California over it in 1846, we reached a viewpoint called Becker Butte Lookout which gave us a true 'Kodak Moment'.
Later on, after driving through the Tonto Forest we got to Show Low and checked into our motel on a road called West Deuce of Clubs. Great names if a trifle unusual. What is the story behind them?
Back in the 1860s two men who had set up a large ranch in the area decided that they wanted to end their business relationship. But how were they to decide who would buy out who? Through a card game of course. They played and played but neither one was able to eliminate the other so finally they decided to cut cards and whoever 'showed low' would buy out the other and keep the ranch. The first player cut the pack and cut the deuce of clubs! Game, set and match to him. So that is why the town that was incorporated on part of the ranch land in 1870 is called Show Low and the main road through it is named Deuce of Clubs.
So here we are tonight, in a motel in Show Low, dining from a surprisingly good selection of kosher food from the local Safeway heated up in the room microwave and drinking Red Hook Long Hammer IPA. However, since there doesn't appear to be any Jewish community within miles of this place, did Safeway decide to stock a kosher range just for us? The mystery deepens.
Biosphere 2
Some time in the late 1980s, when scientists started to become interested in the feasibility of groups of people surviving for prolonged periods in totally closed environments by breathing recycled air, drinking recycled water and growing their own food, an experiment called Biosphere 2 was developed. The structure with all its ancillary support services was built in the desert outside Tucson at a cost then of about $150,000,000. Plants and some fauna to mimic conditions in tropical rain forests, temperate forests, deserts and oceans were located in self contained areas of the building and in 1992 a group of 4 men and 4 women passed through the airlocks of the Biosphere, were locked in and didn't return to the outside world, Biosphere-1, until 1994 when for a number of reasons the experiment had to be stopped. Since then apart from a 6 month period when a smaller group of scientists were locked in Biosphere 2 and another period when Colombia University New York ran some experiments on global warming and carbon dioxide emission in rain forests, Biosphere 2 has survived as a tourist attraction.
We had been told by a couple of Tucson locals not to expect too much if we visited Biosphere 2 and also to be ready to be stung by the high admission charge but, well, we thought we weren't likely to be this way again so lets do it.
So after paying our admissions we joined one of the tours of Biosphere 2 and believe me, the Tucson locals weren't too wrong. However there were some memorable bits to the tour. Our guide, Bill, took us from the dry heat of Arizona through an airlock into Biosphere 2 and into a very hot and humid part of the project that overlooked the synthetic ocean below and was next to the tropical rain forest area. Bill then walked us past a small area of long grass that he said represented a savannah environment.
"Why is it called a savannah?" Bill asked us. Total silence from we tour group members. "Because it has long grass growing in it." Bill answered his own question.
We stood in blank amazement trying to deduce the logic of the question and answer. Apparently the 8 people who were locked in for 2 years were nearly always hungry because they couldn't grow enough food in their cultivation area to give them much more than one good meal a day. The obvious question then was why didn't they turn more of the different environment areas to food production or why didn't one or more of them leave earlier in the project. But I didn't have the heart to ask Bill particularly after he told us that the project had not been successful because it was 'before its time' which is probably a synonym for 'it just didn't work'.
So after being impressed by the systems put into place in the 1990s that still continue to maintain the environments inside Biosphere 2 and by Bill's technique for looking after a tour group that seemed to be repeat most things he had said at least two or three times, we escaped from the artificial world of the 1990s back into the heat of the present day Arizona desert. Interesting structures, great engineering but perhaps the Eden Project is better.
I just put this picture in because I liked the pattern of the struts inside Biosphere 2.
We had been told by a couple of Tucson locals not to expect too much if we visited Biosphere 2 and also to be ready to be stung by the high admission charge but, well, we thought we weren't likely to be this way again so lets do it.
So after paying our admissions we joined one of the tours of Biosphere 2 and believe me, the Tucson locals weren't too wrong. However there were some memorable bits to the tour. Our guide, Bill, took us from the dry heat of Arizona through an airlock into Biosphere 2 and into a very hot and humid part of the project that overlooked the synthetic ocean below and was next to the tropical rain forest area. Bill then walked us past a small area of long grass that he said represented a savannah environment.
"Why is it called a savannah?" Bill asked us. Total silence from we tour group members. "Because it has long grass growing in it." Bill answered his own question.
We stood in blank amazement trying to deduce the logic of the question and answer. Apparently the 8 people who were locked in for 2 years were nearly always hungry because they couldn't grow enough food in their cultivation area to give them much more than one good meal a day. The obvious question then was why didn't they turn more of the different environment areas to food production or why didn't one or more of them leave earlier in the project. But I didn't have the heart to ask Bill particularly after he told us that the project had not been successful because it was 'before its time' which is probably a synonym for 'it just didn't work'.
So after being impressed by the systems put into place in the 1990s that still continue to maintain the environments inside Biosphere 2 and by Bill's technique for looking after a tour group that seemed to be repeat most things he had said at least two or three times, we escaped from the artificial world of the 1990s back into the heat of the present day Arizona desert. Interesting structures, great engineering but perhaps the Eden Project is better.
I just put this picture in because I liked the pattern of the struts inside Biosphere 2.
Old Aircraft New Aircraft
Yesterday, since we were in Tucson, was spent looking round the Pima Air and Space Museum which is a mile or so from I-10, adjoining the Davis-Monthan Airforce Base and just 12 miles from where we were staying. Again, like a lot of similar displays in the US, this one seems to be dependent on enthusiastic volunteers - in this case retired flyers - who meet and greet you both as you go into the museum and as you move around it. From the lady and gentleman standing in the shade of a tree next to the car park, through to the driver on a tram tour we took around the outside exhibits, everyone was knowledgeable and helpful - whether you wanted them to be or not. But the most memorable was a volunteer just inside the first hanger who had on a name badge 'Marty Klintman'. "Just call me Marty" who had a strong New York/Brooklyn accent (he was surprised that two 'foreigners' noticed it) and had been a 19 year old flier with the USAAF in 1943/1944 when he was posted to an air base outside London. This 83 year old still had fond memories of the fun he had had in wartime London and when prompted remembered with a very large grin the even better times he had in Paris after the Liberation. We decided not to ask him exactly what he meant by fun but we were sure that a nice boy from Brooklyn could never have had the 'overpaid, over sexed, over here' epithet attached to him.
The museum is a series of display galleries - some hangers and some not - showing part of the history of flight from the 1930s into the 1950s with of course the almost obligatory Wright Flyer replica hanging from a cross beam. A further display of probably 150 to 200 aircraft both, large and small, from the 40s up to the 90s is set out each with its own name plaque and description on the desert outside the hangers. While it was interesting to start with, the sensible in the 100F+ heat tram ride round these exhibits eventually it even glazed us over with 'is there more to life than this' as the admittedly very knowledgeable driver reeled off details of the different Air Force, Navy and Marine Corps designations for different variants of this or that fighter, bomber, electrical intervention, submarine hunter.....etc. parked up against the background of the Catalina Mountains and a cloudless blue sky.
We also decided that while we were in Pima County we would go on the tour of something called the Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group (AMRG) which is part of the next door air force base. Because this is an active base we had to show photo ID - in our case passports - before we could book on the tour and this ID was rechecked before our bus left the Pima Air and Space Museum. A 5 minute journey to the gate house then a short ride onto the base gave us a very eery 50 minutes or so experience. Question: you are the US Government and you have spent and are still spending billions upon billions of US tax payer dollars on aircraft . What do you do with those same aircraft when they reach the end of their useful life? Why, you fly them to AMRG of course. Rows and rows of bombers, fighters, interceptors, transport aircraft, helicopters are set out across acres and acres of desert all in differing states of apparent repair or disrepair. So why Davis-Monthan as the site for AMRG? The greatest enemy for aircraft is corrosion. With fairly constant hot or very hot temperatures in Tucson and an average rainfall of on 12 inches a year, deterioration of the aircraft can be kept to a minimum. Also, a couple of inches or so below the dust layer on the desert floor is a hard stable rocklike platform so no need to spend money on tarmac and runways; just fly your aircraft in, park it and leave it. But what happens to the aircraft once they are parked up in the desert? They are recycled for spare parts for future use or for scrap. Two examples: the first, A-10 tank buster and ground attack aircraft. Three rows of this plane on the left side of the bus are in differing stages of disassembly.
The aircraft manufacturer has a facility on the base to remove wings from aircraft that have reached their maximum number of flying hours, to refurbish and rejig those same wings and to reuse them on other airframes to make 'new' A-10s. The second, an almost unending expanse of about 400 F-4 Phantoms stretches out on both sides of the road. Five or six 'new' Phantoms arrive each week to go through another recycling process. The aircraft are de-fuelled, washed, protective panels fitted over delicate canopy components to preserve cockpit instruments and for some, they are used as sources of spare parts. 
The majority though are recycled by a team of British Aerospace employees who upgrade the electronics of each aircraft so that they will be ready for their final purpose. Once a team of test pilots have checked out each aircraft they are flown to the White Sands testing ground in New Mexico to be used as unmanned drones for missile tests. Each aircraft has an expected life of five flights before a missile destroys it and the economics of the system is that it is cheaper to reuse old Phantoms than to produce new drones. It is still a strange experience though to be bussed around the base while Phantoms fly over at moderate speed. Reminiscent of 1973?
At a distance we were shown where the US is literally cutting up its nuclear bomber capability as part of the non-proliferation treaty agreement with the Russian Federation. A huge 5000lb blade is suspended over a bomber, its wings are cut off and its fuselage is cut into three pieces.The pieces are left on the desert floor until either a satellite or physical inspection by Russia confirms that the aircraft has been destroyed.
Another part of the base we were not driven to but which we saw from a distance was a mass of white packing cases disappearing into a desert distance. This is the US store of tools and dies that can be used to make parts for nearly any aircraft that the US military flies. Manufacturers deposit the machines and tools at AMRG for the same reason that aircraft are left there. Constant temperatures and little corrosion coupled with a 'no cost' storage of inventory. If a part that cannot be recycled is needed, yet another facility on the base just goes into the desert, selects the necessary machinery and tools and manufactures the part on site.
The claim from AMRG is that for every tax dollar spent maintaining the site, the US taxpayer gets back 10 dollars in savings on parts and recycled aircraft. Who am I to disagree?
The museum is a series of display galleries - some hangers and some not - showing part of the history of flight from the 1930s into the 1950s with of course the almost obligatory Wright Flyer replica hanging from a cross beam. A further display of probably 150 to 200 aircraft both, large and small, from the 40s up to the 90s is set out each with its own name plaque and description on the desert outside the hangers. While it was interesting to start with, the sensible in the 100F+ heat tram ride round these exhibits eventually it even glazed us over with 'is there more to life than this' as the admittedly very knowledgeable driver reeled off details of the different Air Force, Navy and Marine Corps designations for different variants of this or that fighter, bomber, electrical intervention, submarine hunter.....etc. parked up against the background of the Catalina Mountains and a cloudless blue sky.
We also decided that while we were in Pima County we would go on the tour of something called the Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group (AMRG) which is part of the next door air force base. Because this is an active base we had to show photo ID - in our case passports - before we could book on the tour and this ID was rechecked before our bus left the Pima Air and Space Museum. A 5 minute journey to the gate house then a short ride onto the base gave us a very eery 50 minutes or so experience. Question: you are the US Government and you have spent and are still spending billions upon billions of US tax payer dollars on aircraft . What do you do with those same aircraft when they reach the end of their useful life? Why, you fly them to AMRG of course. Rows and rows of bombers, fighters, interceptors, transport aircraft, helicopters are set out across acres and acres of desert all in differing states of apparent repair or disrepair. So why Davis-Monthan as the site for AMRG? The greatest enemy for aircraft is corrosion. With fairly constant hot or very hot temperatures in Tucson and an average rainfall of on 12 inches a year, deterioration of the aircraft can be kept to a minimum. Also, a couple of inches or so below the dust layer on the desert floor is a hard stable rocklike platform so no need to spend money on tarmac and runways; just fly your aircraft in, park it and leave it. But what happens to the aircraft once they are parked up in the desert? They are recycled for spare parts for future use or for scrap. Two examples: the first, A-10 tank buster and ground attack aircraft. Three rows of this plane on the left side of the bus are in differing stages of disassembly.
The aircraft manufacturer has a facility on the base to remove wings from aircraft that have reached their maximum number of flying hours, to refurbish and rejig those same wings and to reuse them on other airframes to make 'new' A-10s. The second, an almost unending expanse of about 400 F-4 Phantoms stretches out on both sides of the road. Five or six 'new' Phantoms arrive each week to go through another recycling process. The aircraft are de-fuelled, washed, protective panels fitted over delicate canopy components to preserve cockpit instruments and for some, they are used as sources of spare parts. 
The majority though are recycled by a team of British Aerospace employees who upgrade the electronics of each aircraft so that they will be ready for their final purpose. Once a team of test pilots have checked out each aircraft they are flown to the White Sands testing ground in New Mexico to be used as unmanned drones for missile tests. Each aircraft has an expected life of five flights before a missile destroys it and the economics of the system is that it is cheaper to reuse old Phantoms than to produce new drones. It is still a strange experience though to be bussed around the base while Phantoms fly over at moderate speed. Reminiscent of 1973?At a distance we were shown where the US is literally cutting up its nuclear bomber capability as part of the non-proliferation treaty agreement with the Russian Federation. A huge 5000lb blade is suspended over a bomber, its wings are cut off and its fuselage is cut into three pieces.The pieces are left on the desert floor until either a satellite or physical inspection by Russia confirms that the aircraft has been destroyed.
Another part of the base we were not driven to but which we saw from a distance was a mass of white packing cases disappearing into a desert distance. This is the US store of tools and dies that can be used to make parts for nearly any aircraft that the US military flies. Manufacturers deposit the machines and tools at AMRG for the same reason that aircraft are left there. Constant temperatures and little corrosion coupled with a 'no cost' storage of inventory. If a part that cannot be recycled is needed, yet another facility on the base just goes into the desert, selects the necessary machinery and tools and manufactures the part on site.
The claim from AMRG is that for every tax dollar spent maintaining the site, the US taxpayer gets back 10 dollars in savings on parts and recycled aircraft. Who am I to disagree?
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Road Trip Hints
A few tips for anyone considering a road trip in the USA.
1. Look for discounts on hotel websites instead of turning up without knowing what hotels rate are.
2. Buy a good cooler box form Wal*Mart. Don't waste your money on one made from polystyrene foam for about $5 or $6; push the boat out and spend about $14 to $15 fro a sturdy one.
3. Buy 10lb bags of ice to put in the box. Cubed ice will fit around bottles in a cooler box more easily than a block of ice but a block of ice can last for nearly 2 days. You takes your choice depending on what you need to cool and how hot it is.
4. There is plenty of kosher food available in most stores in the USA - even in the most out of the way places. Biscuits, crackers, crisps, tins of tuna, sweetcorn, milk, yoghurt, cheeses; you name it and it is there on the shelves with hechshers on the labels.
5. Avoid Athenos hummous that is sold in Wal*Mart, Kroegers and Publix. It has a nasty taste and a not too good texture because a lot of canola oil goes into its making and the quality of tehina in it isn't too good either. Better to wait until you can find a Costco and buy your hummous there. Believe me, a plate of good hummous with a selection of fresh vegetables makes a very nice lunch on the road.
6. Buy plenty of water. It can be surprising how much you need to drink on hot summer days and also when you are at over 10,000 feet above sea level. Keep your cooler box filled with water bottles most of the time.
7. The 'mem' likes a good cuppa in the morning so buy a small bottle of milk in any store. If you don't want to bring your cooler box in from the car at night the milk can be kept cool by putting it into a filled ice bucket in your room.
8. Buy a kettle to boil water for tea and have a supply of your own tea bags in your room. Nothing tastes worse than water boiled up in a room coffee maker which gives tea a strange coffee-like taste. We are lucky since the American Superpharmette bought a kettle years ago and gave it to us for American vacation use.
9. Buy a US pay-as-you-go SIM card. T-Mobile offers one which gives a year's activation for $100 a year. You will save money if you don't use your UK phone number to receive calls while you are in America. To make calls buy minutes on a pre-paid calling card number. Calls to the UK costing only a few cents a minute plus your standard pay-as-you-go minutes are much better value than paying about a 90p a minute or more using your UK phone number. Text messages are also a lot cheaper. Also, you can make other people's life easier if you know that they are going to the US and need a phone. If you have a tri-band phone just change SIM cards: otherwise buy a cheap US cellphone; there are usually deals at most phone dealers or if you are a Costco member the deals offered there are hard to beat.
1. Look for discounts on hotel websites instead of turning up without knowing what hotels rate are.
2. Buy a good cooler box form Wal*Mart. Don't waste your money on one made from polystyrene foam for about $5 or $6; push the boat out and spend about $14 to $15 fro a sturdy one.
3. Buy 10lb bags of ice to put in the box. Cubed ice will fit around bottles in a cooler box more easily than a block of ice but a block of ice can last for nearly 2 days. You takes your choice depending on what you need to cool and how hot it is.
4. There is plenty of kosher food available in most stores in the USA - even in the most out of the way places. Biscuits, crackers, crisps, tins of tuna, sweetcorn, milk, yoghurt, cheeses; you name it and it is there on the shelves with hechshers on the labels.
5. Avoid Athenos hummous that is sold in Wal*Mart, Kroegers and Publix. It has a nasty taste and a not too good texture because a lot of canola oil goes into its making and the quality of tehina in it isn't too good either. Better to wait until you can find a Costco and buy your hummous there. Believe me, a plate of good hummous with a selection of fresh vegetables makes a very nice lunch on the road.
6. Buy plenty of water. It can be surprising how much you need to drink on hot summer days and also when you are at over 10,000 feet above sea level. Keep your cooler box filled with water bottles most of the time.
7. The 'mem' likes a good cuppa in the morning so buy a small bottle of milk in any store. If you don't want to bring your cooler box in from the car at night the milk can be kept cool by putting it into a filled ice bucket in your room.
8. Buy a kettle to boil water for tea and have a supply of your own tea bags in your room. Nothing tastes worse than water boiled up in a room coffee maker which gives tea a strange coffee-like taste. We are lucky since the American Superpharmette bought a kettle years ago and gave it to us for American vacation use.
9. Buy a US pay-as-you-go SIM card. T-Mobile offers one which gives a year's activation for $100 a year. You will save money if you don't use your UK phone number to receive calls while you are in America. To make calls buy minutes on a pre-paid calling card number. Calls to the UK costing only a few cents a minute plus your standard pay-as-you-go minutes are much better value than paying about a 90p a minute or more using your UK phone number. Text messages are also a lot cheaper. Also, you can make other people's life easier if you know that they are going to the US and need a phone. If you have a tri-band phone just change SIM cards: otherwise buy a cheap US cellphone; there are usually deals at most phone dealers or if you are a Costco member the deals offered there are hard to beat.
A Royal Road
The drive south from Albuquerque to El Paso in Texas was a good opportunity to make use of the overdrive facility on US cars. Once onto I-25 it was nearly 220 miles without a turn at a maximum speed most of the way of 75 mph until we reached Las Cruces and then took I-10 into El Paso. As the male Superpharmette said when we spoke to him as we drove the highway, we had better make sure at about 200 miles that we didn't miss the turning. As we discussed the day's news and the differing foci of UK and US news broadcasts he said that the Hamas take over of Gaza when balanced against the Fatah campaign to hold onto the West Bank appeared to fulfil the Palestinian wish for a two state solution.
The drive southwards was broken by brown signs pointing points of interest along the way. Camping sites and historical markers, we decided to follow one sign that pointed to something called the Camino Real International Heritage Center. Taking a turning off I-25 and then following a paved road for about 3 or 4 miles into the wastelands to the east of the highway brought us to one of the nicest museums we had come across so far. In an almost endless vista of scrubland with mountains on the horizon was what looked like a small and uninteresting building.
Inside, however, was completely different. A brand new, air conditioned building, opened only about 8 months ago and built on the side of a hill, it told the story of the Camino Real - the road that linked Santa Fe in the north with Mexico City in the south and then by other caminos to Spain - during the 16th, 17th and 18th Centuries. A series of fascinating displays and exhibits explained the importance of the road and the campaigns of conversions of the indigenous Indian populations by Franciscan monks who led the earliest expeditions into what is now New Mexico. Interestingly, the list of names of the first expedition from present day Mexico up to Santa Fe included a group of people with the name Perez which, though not exclusively so, could be the names of 'conversos' who had made their way to the Americas after the Expulsion of 1492. The history of the road up to the 20th Century is documented together with the introduction by the Spanish of horses into the Americas and the massive change that these animals made to the Indian tribes of the area such as the Utes and particularly the Comanches who moved south from the plains and who dominated the area for nearly 200 years afterwards. The Mescalero Apaches who marauded through the south of New Mexico also made good use of horses as well as as taking mescaline from desert plants hence their name of Mescalero. After the Civil War, and after a 36 day rule of the area by Confederate forces, the US Government established a series of forts in the territory manned mostly by regiments of black soldiers. The Apaches and Comanches were so fascinated by the curly black hair of the African American soldiers that they compared the hair to the fur on the hides of the buffalo that they hunted and that is why they called these black skinned soldiers the 'Buffalo Soldiers' which was a factoid that we didn't know until then.
Once we had finished looking at the exhibits in the exhibition we decided to eat our lunch in a shaded corner of a small picnic area just outside the Center's gift shop.
This shop was staffed by a very nice lady who seemed to have a none too strenuous job of sitting in the shop, reading a book, listening to Verdi opera on a small stereo system and talking to visitors such as ourselves. Come 2.00pm, she closed up the shop, went out into a small parking lot, got into her 4-matic Mercedes Benz 430 and drove off home across the line of the original Camino Real.
The drive southwards was broken by brown signs pointing points of interest along the way. Camping sites and historical markers, we decided to follow one sign that pointed to something called the Camino Real International Heritage Center. Taking a turning off I-25 and then following a paved road for about 3 or 4 miles into the wastelands to the east of the highway brought us to one of the nicest museums we had come across so far. In an almost endless vista of scrubland with mountains on the horizon was what looked like a small and uninteresting building.
Inside, however, was completely different. A brand new, air conditioned building, opened only about 8 months ago and built on the side of a hill, it told the story of the Camino Real - the road that linked Santa Fe in the north with Mexico City in the south and then by other caminos to Spain - during the 16th, 17th and 18th Centuries. A series of fascinating displays and exhibits explained the importance of the road and the campaigns of conversions of the indigenous Indian populations by Franciscan monks who led the earliest expeditions into what is now New Mexico. Interestingly, the list of names of the first expedition from present day Mexico up to Santa Fe included a group of people with the name Perez which, though not exclusively so, could be the names of 'conversos' who had made their way to the Americas after the Expulsion of 1492. The history of the road up to the 20th Century is documented together with the introduction by the Spanish of horses into the Americas and the massive change that these animals made to the Indian tribes of the area such as the Utes and particularly the Comanches who moved south from the plains and who dominated the area for nearly 200 years afterwards. The Mescalero Apaches who marauded through the south of New Mexico also made good use of horses as well as as taking mescaline from desert plants hence their name of Mescalero. After the Civil War, and after a 36 day rule of the area by Confederate forces, the US Government established a series of forts in the territory manned mostly by regiments of black soldiers. The Apaches and Comanches were so fascinated by the curly black hair of the African American soldiers that they compared the hair to the fur on the hides of the buffalo that they hunted and that is why they called these black skinned soldiers the 'Buffalo Soldiers' which was a factoid that we didn't know until then.Once we had finished looking at the exhibits in the exhibition we decided to eat our lunch in a shaded corner of a small picnic area just outside the Center's gift shop.
This shop was staffed by a very nice lady who seemed to have a none too strenuous job of sitting in the shop, reading a book, listening to Verdi opera on a small stereo system and talking to visitors such as ourselves. Come 2.00pm, she closed up the shop, went out into a small parking lot, got into her 4-matic Mercedes Benz 430 and drove off home across the line of the original Camino Real.
Atomic Albuquerque
Of course I didn't know that the Hotel Albuquerque at Old Town had suffered a computer failure during the night so there wasn't any record of our reservation showing on their booking system. However a modicum of British charm coupled with being able to show my reservation and booked rate on my Mac once the hotel had given me access to their guest WiFi system (and I saved the logon and password details for 'complimentary' use later on) gave us a very nice room on the 10th floor of a fairly up-market hotel with a nice view over the Old Town and museum area when eventually we got into our room in the afternoon. Albuquerque's Old Town is not that dissimilar to Santa Fe's only nicer. 
Mostly single storey adobe buildings housing restaurants and shops we found an interesting photographic co-operative's gallery where we bought a very nice picture and could have bought many others. Before we walked into Old Town we stopped in the museum area and went into the Atomic Museum. This is a museum devoted to the story of the atom, to the history of radiation in treatment of disease as well as Marie Curie and X-rays but the main focus of the displays is to explain the birth of the atomic bomb and that Manhattan Project which was based in Los Alamos about 60 or 70 miles away. What made everything more interesting were the volunteers who walk round the museum talking to visitors. These are men in their 70s and 80s who had been involved in one aspect or other of the US atomic programme at different times in the past and who are only too willing to talk about there experiences. The man who took our entrance money had specialised in decontamination procedures and the one and only time he might have been able to use his expertise was in 1966 when a B-52 carrying four nuclear weapons crashed during mid air refuelling over the Mediterranean near Los Palomares in Spain. The B-52 and the refuelling plane crashed into the sea and the problem was how to recover the nuclear weapons and to remove earth contaminated with plutonium from the area. He was part of a training program in the US at the time and however much he pleaded he told us he wasn't permitted to go to Spain to help in the clean up. Another elderly man had been involved in the building of nuclear power plants in the USA and he showed us a replica of a tiny uranium slug that he carried round in his pocket that demonstrated, so he said, the quantity of uranium needed to produce the equivalent energy that a ton and a half of coal would generate.
But the two highlights of the museum for us at least were first, the replica casings of the Tall Man bomb that was dropped over Nagasaki and the Fat Boy bomb dropped over Hiroshima in 1945. Whilst big, neither are massive - perhaps 500lbs or so - but to be so close to potential obliteration was disturbing. On the same theme another veteran there told us that the famous Hiroshima bomber, Enola Gay, was named after the pilot's mother. The second was to read the news sheets that were typed out and then duplicated so as to be read by those people who were working at Los Alamos as part of the Manhattan Project. Besides the minutiae of life on a military base - who had lost this or who had found that - was a simple two line announcement of a 'Hebrew Sabbath Service' to be held in one of the theatres at the camp starting at 7.30pm on a Friday night in July, 1944. Who of the scientists and servicemen in Los Alamos had gone to that service? What part had they played in the world changing events of 1945?
Mostly single storey adobe buildings housing restaurants and shops we found an interesting photographic co-operative's gallery where we bought a very nice picture and could have bought many others. Before we walked into Old Town we stopped in the museum area and went into the Atomic Museum. This is a museum devoted to the story of the atom, to the history of radiation in treatment of disease as well as Marie Curie and X-rays but the main focus of the displays is to explain the birth of the atomic bomb and that Manhattan Project which was based in Los Alamos about 60 or 70 miles away. What made everything more interesting were the volunteers who walk round the museum talking to visitors. These are men in their 70s and 80s who had been involved in one aspect or other of the US atomic programme at different times in the past and who are only too willing to talk about there experiences. The man who took our entrance money had specialised in decontamination procedures and the one and only time he might have been able to use his expertise was in 1966 when a B-52 carrying four nuclear weapons crashed during mid air refuelling over the Mediterranean near Los Palomares in Spain. The B-52 and the refuelling plane crashed into the sea and the problem was how to recover the nuclear weapons and to remove earth contaminated with plutonium from the area. He was part of a training program in the US at the time and however much he pleaded he told us he wasn't permitted to go to Spain to help in the clean up. Another elderly man had been involved in the building of nuclear power plants in the USA and he showed us a replica of a tiny uranium slug that he carried round in his pocket that demonstrated, so he said, the quantity of uranium needed to produce the equivalent energy that a ton and a half of coal would generate. But the two highlights of the museum for us at least were first, the replica casings of the Tall Man bomb that was dropped over Nagasaki and the Fat Boy bomb dropped over Hiroshima in 1945. Whilst big, neither are massive - perhaps 500lbs or so - but to be so close to potential obliteration was disturbing. On the same theme another veteran there told us that the famous Hiroshima bomber, Enola Gay, was named after the pilot's mother. The second was to read the news sheets that were typed out and then duplicated so as to be read by those people who were working at Los Alamos as part of the Manhattan Project. Besides the minutiae of life on a military base - who had lost this or who had found that - was a simple two line announcement of a 'Hebrew Sabbath Service' to be held in one of the theatres at the camp starting at 7.30pm on a Friday night in July, 1944. Who of the scientists and servicemen in Los Alamos had gone to that service? What part had they played in the world changing events of 1945?
Santa Fe and Santo Domingo
Perhaps it was just us but, well, we were a little disappointed with Santa Fe. With the aid of our trusty TomTom we found our way to the Old Town of Santa Fe which is an unusual series of adobe built buildings interspersed with some more modern structures, 1900s or thereabouts, that seem to be occupied by businesses selling some very up-market merchandise to visitors with other shops selling the usual range of tourist tack that tourists always buy. Most restaurants concentrate on local cuisine which means Mexican/New Mexican cooking so nearly everything comes with a choice of red or green chillie, no not without chillie but with a choice of the two colours. It is up to the customer to decide whether he or she can trust the server when questions about the relative strengths of each variant are answered. In some places red is hotter than green, in others the opposite. So, after eating vegetarian burittos with fairly hot both red and green chillie sauce on them and, no you have to have chillie, you cannot get food without it, we walked through the almost deserted streets of the Old Town at the very late hour of nearly 8.30pm towards the Plaza and the Govenor's Palace built in 16210 which is the tourist highlight of the town. 
Apart from a few straggling tourists like ourselves the main occupants of the Plaza were some homeless people settling down for the night and groups of youngsters in differing stages of inebriation and intoxication. As we walked back towards the car park where we had left our trusty hire vehicle a small group seemed to detach themselves from the main gatherings and started to follow us down one of the streets. At the same time a girl started shouting and screaming at a couple of men and a brief kicking and punching fight started. We crossed over the street from our followers, sped up our walking speed and made our way back to the relative security of the car park. I decided that we are getting much too old for the hazardous vagaries of street life in modern America and my feelings were echoed by the man on the desk in our hotel who said that he hardly goes into the enter of Santa Fe anymore because of the threats, both imaginary and real, that the drunks and druggies in the Plaza now represent. But before that and to show that Route 66 is at the heart of this trip here is a picture of me close to a Route 66 marker in Santa Fe.
The following morning we checked out of our hotel a day early and drove south to Albuquerque and an unscheduled stop at the Hotel Albuquerque at Old Town that I found and made a reservation in from the comfort of our Santa Fe Holiday Inn Express. On the way southwards on I-25 we pulled off the highway to follow a sign pointing towards Santo Domingo Pueblo. A couple of miles along the side road the metalled road gave way to rough dirt tracks running between a few rows of single storey adobe buildings. Children playing with dogs in the dry dust besides houses, some of the buildings had dome-shaped abode built ovens next to them. Each one had a large opening at floor level with one or two blackened soot encircled openings at about head level at about 90 degrees to the main opening. The largest and most modern building in the pueblo had a large sign on its front , 'Santo Domingo Tribe War Veterans Center' and next to it was another sign demanding that visitors do not take pictures, use video cameras, make sketches or use cellphones. Anyone breaking these rules would be liable to a fine of up to $1,000 payable to the reservation police. Groups of Indian men dressed in jeans, shirts and heavy jackets even though for us it was a hot day, stood around talking to each other and greeting friends as they walked or drove slowly by. Feeling very much as we were intruders we decided to turn the car around and drive away from this tribal area. One nice touch was that both as we drove into and out of the pueblo, Indian drivers would look towards us and acknowledge us with the lift of a finger on a hand holding a steering wheel. After not responding to the first gesture I suddenly realised that this was no different to driving on the roads of County Mayo in Western Ireland. So one or two Santo Domingo inhabitants were hopefully pleasantly surprised by at least one not so ignorant white man.
Apart from a few straggling tourists like ourselves the main occupants of the Plaza were some homeless people settling down for the night and groups of youngsters in differing stages of inebriation and intoxication. As we walked back towards the car park where we had left our trusty hire vehicle a small group seemed to detach themselves from the main gatherings and started to follow us down one of the streets. At the same time a girl started shouting and screaming at a couple of men and a brief kicking and punching fight started. We crossed over the street from our followers, sped up our walking speed and made our way back to the relative security of the car park. I decided that we are getting much too old for the hazardous vagaries of street life in modern America and my feelings were echoed by the man on the desk in our hotel who said that he hardly goes into the enter of Santa Fe anymore because of the threats, both imaginary and real, that the drunks and druggies in the Plaza now represent. But before that and to show that Route 66 is at the heart of this trip here is a picture of me close to a Route 66 marker in Santa Fe.
The following morning we checked out of our hotel a day early and drove south to Albuquerque and an unscheduled stop at the Hotel Albuquerque at Old Town that I found and made a reservation in from the comfort of our Santa Fe Holiday Inn Express. On the way southwards on I-25 we pulled off the highway to follow a sign pointing towards Santo Domingo Pueblo. A couple of miles along the side road the metalled road gave way to rough dirt tracks running between a few rows of single storey adobe buildings. Children playing with dogs in the dry dust besides houses, some of the buildings had dome-shaped abode built ovens next to them. Each one had a large opening at floor level with one or two blackened soot encircled openings at about head level at about 90 degrees to the main opening. The largest and most modern building in the pueblo had a large sign on its front , 'Santo Domingo Tribe War Veterans Center' and next to it was another sign demanding that visitors do not take pictures, use video cameras, make sketches or use cellphones. Anyone breaking these rules would be liable to a fine of up to $1,000 payable to the reservation police. Groups of Indian men dressed in jeans, shirts and heavy jackets even though for us it was a hot day, stood around talking to each other and greeting friends as they walked or drove slowly by. Feeling very much as we were intruders we decided to turn the car around and drive away from this tribal area. One nice touch was that both as we drove into and out of the pueblo, Indian drivers would look towards us and acknowledge us with the lift of a finger on a hand holding a steering wheel. After not responding to the first gesture I suddenly realised that this was no different to driving on the roads of County Mayo in Western Ireland. So one or two Santo Domingo inhabitants were hopefully pleasantly surprised by at least one not so ignorant white man.
New Mexican Aztecs
Leaving Durango and driving south into New Mexico was an easy and pleasant drive through Cuba, close to Los Alamos and ending in Santa Fe. Close to the town of Aztec we saw a National Park Service sign for something called Aztec Ruins so we stopped in at the Aztec Visitors Center which like a lot of small towns in the USA has visitor facilities, including the all important restrooms, funded by the local chamber of commerce in a modern building just off the main highway. Two local volunteer ladies directed us towards the NPS site and off we went to find it. And what a fascinating few hours we spent there.
Briefly the early Spanish explorers into this area in the 1500s came across the site and incorrectly thought that the people who had built the structures there were Aztecs. Even though it became clear in years to come that the builders were actually the ancestors of many Southwestern tribes, the 'Aztec' name persisted. After a 30 minute film show in the park's visitors' centre which explained the known background of the builders of the site we went out and followed a carefully marked out trail that ran above, around and through the ruins. Originally built in the 1100s by the ancestors of the present day Pueblo people, the site may have become an important centre of commerce and religion in the area as the influence of the community of the fairly distant Chaco Canyon waned after 1100. Possibly because of a series of recurring droughts in the late 1200s the ancestral Pueblo people abandoned the site around the early 1300s and apart from treasure hunters in the 1880s, the ruins which were by now well covered with sand and scrub were not excavated until the early 1990s. What was found when the debris was removed was a remarkable series of stone built structures, some with wood and rush ceilings and floors still intact, one, two or three stories high, together with a variety of food remains, cotton and feather clothing, stone and wooden tools as well as jewellery made from obsidian, shells and turquoise.
Associated with each group of stone 'houses' was a larger or smaller structure called a 'kiva' which is similar to the ceremonial rooms used by present day Pueblo peoples. And how the largest kiva in Aztec Ruins has been reconstructed is what concerns me.
Over a number of years the foremost excavator of the site, Earl Morris, decided that he knew how an original kiva looked and using this 'knowledge' he oversaw a reconstruction of the largest kiva into a form that he thought was how it had looked in the heyday of the settlement in the mid to late 1200s. While the reconstruction certainly is impressive the problem is that later scholars now dispute whether Morris's reconstruction is truly representative of what the kiva really looked like.
The question is should an existing archaeological site be rebuilt to represent what one person or groups of people think it looked like when it was first built or is it more responsible to leave a structure as it was found after excavation, not adding on any 'modern' timbers and stones. To my mind the reconstruction is wrong; a modern 'replica' could have been put up - or in this case it would have been more accurate to say could have been dug down as well as put up - but the remains of the original build should have been left untouched. But then, what do I know?
Briefly the early Spanish explorers into this area in the 1500s came across the site and incorrectly thought that the people who had built the structures there were Aztecs. Even though it became clear in years to come that the builders were actually the ancestors of many Southwestern tribes, the 'Aztec' name persisted. After a 30 minute film show in the park's visitors' centre which explained the known background of the builders of the site we went out and followed a carefully marked out trail that ran above, around and through the ruins. Originally built in the 1100s by the ancestors of the present day Pueblo people, the site may have become an important centre of commerce and religion in the area as the influence of the community of the fairly distant Chaco Canyon waned after 1100. Possibly because of a series of recurring droughts in the late 1200s the ancestral Pueblo people abandoned the site around the early 1300s and apart from treasure hunters in the 1880s, the ruins which were by now well covered with sand and scrub were not excavated until the early 1990s. What was found when the debris was removed was a remarkable series of stone built structures, some with wood and rush ceilings and floors still intact, one, two or three stories high, together with a variety of food remains, cotton and feather clothing, stone and wooden tools as well as jewellery made from obsidian, shells and turquoise.
Associated with each group of stone 'houses' was a larger or smaller structure called a 'kiva' which is similar to the ceremonial rooms used by present day Pueblo peoples. And how the largest kiva in Aztec Ruins has been reconstructed is what concerns me. Over a number of years the foremost excavator of the site, Earl Morris, decided that he knew how an original kiva looked and using this 'knowledge' he oversaw a reconstruction of the largest kiva into a form that he thought was how it had looked in the heyday of the settlement in the mid to late 1200s. While the reconstruction certainly is impressive the problem is that later scholars now dispute whether Morris's reconstruction is truly representative of what the kiva really looked like.
The question is should an existing archaeological site be rebuilt to represent what one person or groups of people think it looked like when it was first built or is it more responsible to leave a structure as it was found after excavation, not adding on any 'modern' timbers and stones. To my mind the reconstruction is wrong; a modern 'replica' could have been put up - or in this case it would have been more accurate to say could have been dug down as well as put up - but the remains of the original build should have been left untouched. But then, what do I know?
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
DSNGR and Slurry Bombers
Yesterday was DSNGR day. The Durango and Silverton Narrow Gauge Railway journey from Durango up into the mountains to Silverton which is at an elevation of about 11,000 feet some 47 miles north of Durango. The train journey, in restored vintage rolling stock pulled by a coal burning steam engine, smells just like a train trip should smell with smoke and cinders in the air and bursts of steam and steam whistles to warn road traffic of the train's imminent crossing of roads. 
The nearly three and three quarters of an hour journey still takes the same length of time as the original railroad took back in the 1880s when the line from Denver to Durango was extended up to Silverton which then was a boom town of over 5,000 inhabitants servicing the needs of the mines in the area. Reportedly Bat Masterson lived there for a short time and Wyatt Earp worked as a card dealer in one of the bars for a couple of years. With up to 50 bars and gambling joints as well as 'houses of ill-repute' it must have been some place. Apparently the last whore house closed down in 1947 as the mines began to close though 'business' had been declining ever since 1942 when local girls started to 'give it away for nothing' in fits of wartime patriotic enthusiasm. Today the town has about 500 inhabitants who depend upon the 150,000 to 200,000 tourists a year that the railway brings up during the summer season when the area is clear of snow and the winter sporters who make their way up through up to 20 foot snow drifts in the winter for the skiing and boarding on nearby Silverton Mountain. Except for the highway through the town the few wide streets between buildings are just earth and the buildings lining them are mostly wooden with only one or two such as the administration building built in the early 1900s being built with brick or stone. All have rough alleys behind them - just like in every western film you have ever seen.
Shops selling cheap as well as expensive souvenirs together with others stocking extensive ranges of hunting, fishing and camping gear as well as one or two selling very expensive, up-market, tooled leather bags, belts and an amazing range of highly decorated handgun holsters. A very cold and damp few hours in Silverton ended when we took a bus back down to Durango for a journey of about an hour and a quarter on the same road that I had driven the day before. So much better to be driven than to drive it myself.
One the way into Durango the bus driver pointed out the remains of a huge wildfire that had caused devastation in 2002. A fire, probably started by a careless camper, ripped through the dry forest and brush on a ridge some miles outside Durango. Apparently wildfires move up ridges as they draw air from lower down valleys until fire fighters can start to to hold the horizontal progress of the fire. This time however, the inaccessibility of the fire meant that fire fighting was very difficult . The only way it could be fought was by aerial water drops and sky diving firemen who were parachuted onto the high ridges. A number of 'slurry bombers', WWII vintage aircraft such as P-24 Liberator bombers, were also used to try to hold the fires. At the same time, on the opposite side of the valley, another fire broke out. This one was started by a 'city type' who had bought a property up in the mountains and who had an electrified fence around his land which shorted out in the tinder dry environment and set fire to the scrubland. Whether the fence was to keep down weeds or to discourage 'critters' from coming onto his land the owner shouldn't have been using it in the summer when there was a fire risk. Because all the air in the valley was being sucked out by the main wildfire on the far side of the valley, this smaller fire moved down not up its side of the valley burning out some 10 or more homes and hundreds of acres of forest and scrub. Only the intervention of some diverted slurry bomber missions saved the area from even greater destruction. The foolish 'city type' is now spending years in court explaining to a judge why he hadn't switched off his electrified fence and how many millions of dollars compensation should be paid to the people who lost homes and livelihoods because of his selfish stupidity.
The fires in 2002 were so bad that evacuation plans for most of northern Durango were in place and ready to be implemented when the wildfires came to a massive rocky outcrop. Instead of moving south the fires moved further and further up the ridges, eventually burnt out and Durango was saved. Now, five years later, the ridge line is silhouetted with the remains of burnt out Ponderosa pines but apparently Nature being what it is, aspen trees are starting to grow again up on the high ridges and wild life is slowly coming back.
The nearly three and three quarters of an hour journey still takes the same length of time as the original railroad took back in the 1880s when the line from Denver to Durango was extended up to Silverton which then was a boom town of over 5,000 inhabitants servicing the needs of the mines in the area. Reportedly Bat Masterson lived there for a short time and Wyatt Earp worked as a card dealer in one of the bars for a couple of years. With up to 50 bars and gambling joints as well as 'houses of ill-repute' it must have been some place. Apparently the last whore house closed down in 1947 as the mines began to close though 'business' had been declining ever since 1942 when local girls started to 'give it away for nothing' in fits of wartime patriotic enthusiasm. Today the town has about 500 inhabitants who depend upon the 150,000 to 200,000 tourists a year that the railway brings up during the summer season when the area is clear of snow and the winter sporters who make their way up through up to 20 foot snow drifts in the winter for the skiing and boarding on nearby Silverton Mountain. Except for the highway through the town the few wide streets between buildings are just earth and the buildings lining them are mostly wooden with only one or two such as the administration building built in the early 1900s being built with brick or stone. All have rough alleys behind them - just like in every western film you have ever seen.
Shops selling cheap as well as expensive souvenirs together with others stocking extensive ranges of hunting, fishing and camping gear as well as one or two selling very expensive, up-market, tooled leather bags, belts and an amazing range of highly decorated handgun holsters. A very cold and damp few hours in Silverton ended when we took a bus back down to Durango for a journey of about an hour and a quarter on the same road that I had driven the day before. So much better to be driven than to drive it myself.One the way into Durango the bus driver pointed out the remains of a huge wildfire that had caused devastation in 2002. A fire, probably started by a careless camper, ripped through the dry forest and brush on a ridge some miles outside Durango. Apparently wildfires move up ridges as they draw air from lower down valleys until fire fighters can start to to hold the horizontal progress of the fire. This time however, the inaccessibility of the fire meant that fire fighting was very difficult . The only way it could be fought was by aerial water drops and sky diving firemen who were parachuted onto the high ridges. A number of 'slurry bombers', WWII vintage aircraft such as P-24 Liberator bombers, were also used to try to hold the fires. At the same time, on the opposite side of the valley, another fire broke out. This one was started by a 'city type' who had bought a property up in the mountains and who had an electrified fence around his land which shorted out in the tinder dry environment and set fire to the scrubland. Whether the fence was to keep down weeds or to discourage 'critters' from coming onto his land the owner shouldn't have been using it in the summer when there was a fire risk. Because all the air in the valley was being sucked out by the main wildfire on the far side of the valley, this smaller fire moved down not up its side of the valley burning out some 10 or more homes and hundreds of acres of forest and scrub. Only the intervention of some diverted slurry bomber missions saved the area from even greater destruction. The foolish 'city type' is now spending years in court explaining to a judge why he hadn't switched off his electrified fence and how many millions of dollars compensation should be paid to the people who lost homes and livelihoods because of his selfish stupidity.
The fires in 2002 were so bad that evacuation plans for most of northern Durango were in place and ready to be implemented when the wildfires came to a massive rocky outcrop. Instead of moving south the fires moved further and further up the ridges, eventually burnt out and Durango was saved. Now, five years later, the ridge line is silhouetted with the remains of burnt out Ponderosa pines but apparently Nature being what it is, aspen trees are starting to grow again up on the high ridges and wild life is slowly coming back.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Of Hot Springs and Cold Feet
Ouray - named after Chief Ouray - pronounced Yu-ray - of the Ute tribe was a unique place to stay in. Established in the 19th Century when gold and silver mines were dug in the surrounding mountains and located close to a series of natural hot springs, the town is now a centre for, you guess it, hiking, biking and mountaineering in the summer and for skiing, ice climbing and suchlike activities in the winter. The area is known as 'The Switzerland of America' and with the snow-capped mountains, forests and rivers around it the comparison is justified. 
( Ouray street scene. Notice only Main Street is paved, the other streets and avenues are just dirt. Well, what's the point of paving them when they are covered with ice and snow for six or so months in the year and nearly everyone in town drives 4x4s or uses ATVs?)
We stayed in the Box Canyon Motel which was built in the 1950s so as to make use of the natural hot springs that come out of the rocks in the canyon. The motel is heated by the geo-thermic waters in winter and there are four hot tubs just behind the motel for guest use.
After eating on Sunday night we sat out on the deck of a local bar drinking local beer and listening to a marvellous guitarist who played both his own compositions as well as folk singer standards. Though it was a cold evening it was great just to sit and listen to good music. Monday morning, after checking out of the motel, we found the Batchelor-Syracuse Mine, paid our money and went about 1,800 feet into a mountain on an electric train to get some idea of what mining in the area was like in the past. This mine, like every other mine in the area, stopped commercial mining in the late 1980s or the early 90s when the cost of mining the precious metals exceeded the value of the gold and silver that could be extracted. Also the environmental pollution of the land and rivers due to extraction processes using mercury and cyanide were no longer acceptable. 
(Some of our tour group down the mine)
A well spent hour or so was followed by an hour of panning for gold in a local creek. This is an activity that needs practice to do well but even so we had a feeling of satisfaction when we picked our own panned pieces of iron pyrites and other shiny minerals out of our pans. Oh, and I did find one very small flake of gold in my pan. However the flake was so small it could only be picked up using a plastic pipette so there was no possibility of me getting rich by panning for the mother lode that day.
From Ouray we drove south to Durango on probably one of the scariest drives of my life. From an elevation of around 9000 feet the road rose to nearly 11,000 feet as it wound its way over a number of high passes past the town of Silverton then down to about 6,500 feet into Durango. Imagine a two lane road clinging to the sides of huge mountains with steep descents and equally scary ascents and with most of the way, no barriers between drivers and sheer drops of 100s or 1000s of feet. Why no barriers? Most of the area is avalanche area and to keep the roads open in the winter accumulations of snow are blasted off the high peaks. Any barriers would just be ripped away by the resulting induced or natural avalanches ergo no barriers! I kept in low gear all the way down the road and after nearly an hour and three quarters never was a driver more pleased to see the signs for Durango.
( Ouray street scene. Notice only Main Street is paved, the other streets and avenues are just dirt. Well, what's the point of paving them when they are covered with ice and snow for six or so months in the year and nearly everyone in town drives 4x4s or uses ATVs?)
We stayed in the Box Canyon Motel which was built in the 1950s so as to make use of the natural hot springs that come out of the rocks in the canyon. The motel is heated by the geo-thermic waters in winter and there are four hot tubs just behind the motel for guest use.
After eating on Sunday night we sat out on the deck of a local bar drinking local beer and listening to a marvellous guitarist who played both his own compositions as well as folk singer standards. Though it was a cold evening it was great just to sit and listen to good music. Monday morning, after checking out of the motel, we found the Batchelor-Syracuse Mine, paid our money and went about 1,800 feet into a mountain on an electric train to get some idea of what mining in the area was like in the past. This mine, like every other mine in the area, stopped commercial mining in the late 1980s or the early 90s when the cost of mining the precious metals exceeded the value of the gold and silver that could be extracted. Also the environmental pollution of the land and rivers due to extraction processes using mercury and cyanide were no longer acceptable. 
(Some of our tour group down the mine)A well spent hour or so was followed by an hour of panning for gold in a local creek. This is an activity that needs practice to do well but even so we had a feeling of satisfaction when we picked our own panned pieces of iron pyrites and other shiny minerals out of our pans. Oh, and I did find one very small flake of gold in my pan. However the flake was so small it could only be picked up using a plastic pipette so there was no possibility of me getting rich by panning for the mother lode that day.
From Ouray we drove south to Durango on probably one of the scariest drives of my life. From an elevation of around 9000 feet the road rose to nearly 11,000 feet as it wound its way over a number of high passes past the town of Silverton then down to about 6,500 feet into Durango. Imagine a two lane road clinging to the sides of huge mountains with steep descents and equally scary ascents and with most of the way, no barriers between drivers and sheer drops of 100s or 1000s of feet. Why no barriers? Most of the area is avalanche area and to keep the roads open in the winter accumulations of snow are blasted off the high peaks. Any barriers would just be ripped away by the resulting induced or natural avalanches ergo no barriers! I kept in low gear all the way down the road and after nearly an hour and three quarters never was a driver more pleased to see the signs for Durango.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Water Music
We left Moab a day earlier than planned; realistically we are not biking, hiking, rough water rafting types and if the truth be known we never were. So after checking out of our hotel which has to be one of the most chaotically run Holiday Inns anyone could ever stay at we moved south and east towards Colorado and an overnight stop in a small town called Ouray (pronounced Yu-ray I have no idea why). More of this place later. Driving south through a large sandstone walled canyon and then moving upwards we passed more stone arches until we saw a signpost to Needles Overview which we knew from our map would give us a view over part of the Canyonlands NP. So some 20 or so miles along a deserted road through what looked like every Western film film set we came to the viewpoint. Yet again another breathtaking view or series of views with the Canyonlands set out in front of us, a part of the Colorado River way across the depression and huge cliffs and buttes laid out beneath us and all around us. Words cannot describe the grandeur of the sight and it must have been just the same for the first explorers who came into the area in the mid 19th Century. The edges of the cliffs were well guarded with strong railings but nevertheless Vertigo Man kept well away from the drops when the pathway was exposed and there was no horizon apparent. We stood speechless with the wonder of nature spread out all around us and after about 30 minutes drove back to the highway and on into Colorado. The landscape changed from mountains and desert scrub and range to more open range and fields of grass as we drove through southern Colorado and close to the town of Cortez we went north following 145, one of Colorado's scenic routes. As we drove northwards the road left open farmland behind and became more mountainous as we followed the valley of the Dolores River and came to the town of Dolores where we stopped at a roadside picnic area to eat a late lunch. Like all good American campsites and picnic areas there is nearly always an isolated 'facility' for the comfort of the public so not knowing where the next comfort stop might be, I decided to avail myself of the services provided by Dolores township. As I got near to the door I heard music. From a public toilet? I opened the door and sitting there in the room was a man with violin and music stand with his violin case on top of the wash basin.
"Sorry, am I disturbing you?" I asked.
"Hi" he said "No go ahead. I'm practising some chords on this fiddle and 'cos we don't have an outhouse my wife told me to get down here to play them. I'm really a trumpet player but I'm trying to get the hang of this fiddle. Hey, have you heard of Jack Benny? He had to practise his fiddle playing outside his home you know."
I foolishly asked my urinal fiddling friend whether he had had heard the old Jack Benny line of Benny being held up and when asked for his money or his life asking if he could have time to think about it. Amazingly the violinist hadn't and he nearly fell off his chair laughing. Obviously not a lot goes on to entertain people in Dolores. I made my escape from the services when he started to tell me stories of Maynard Ferguson, went back to our lunch site and to Mrs Superpharm who wanted to know why I had been so long. She had to go to the 'Ladies' so that she too could hear the water music of Dolores. For us urination will now never be the same again with out the accompaniment of off-key violin chords.
Postscript: my new fiddling friend was quite happy to pose for a picture in his private rehearsal room. He even insisted in taking his glasses off for the shot!
"Sorry, am I disturbing you?" I asked.
"Hi" he said "No go ahead. I'm practising some chords on this fiddle and 'cos we don't have an outhouse my wife told me to get down here to play them. I'm really a trumpet player but I'm trying to get the hang of this fiddle. Hey, have you heard of Jack Benny? He had to practise his fiddle playing outside his home you know."
I foolishly asked my urinal fiddling friend whether he had had heard the old Jack Benny line of Benny being held up and when asked for his money or his life asking if he could have time to think about it. Amazingly the violinist hadn't and he nearly fell off his chair laughing. Obviously not a lot goes on to entertain people in Dolores. I made my escape from the services when he started to tell me stories of Maynard Ferguson, went back to our lunch site and to Mrs Superpharm who wanted to know why I had been so long. She had to go to the 'Ladies' so that she too could hear the water music of Dolores. For us urination will now never be the same again with out the accompaniment of off-key violin chords.
Postscript: my new fiddling friend was quite happy to pose for a picture in his private rehearsal room. He even insisted in taking his glasses off for the shot!
Rodeo Fun
Saturday night was the last night of the Moab Canyonlands PRCA (Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association) Rodeo so where else were we to go than to the Spanish Trail Arena which is about 3 miles south of Moab on 191. We paid our $12 each admission, bought a programme but did not buy a $5 raffle ticket. After all, if we were to win what would we do with a Suzuki 4-wheel drive ATV or a black powder rifle? Into the arena we took our places on the benches with the other rodeo goers who were mostly locals. Lots of men in tee shirts with John Deere caps and work boots on their feet, cowboys in boot cut denim jeans and large cowboy hats as well as a number of local Native Americans the women distinctive with braided hair and mongoloid folds to their eyelids. The parade of rodeo sponsors came into the arena preceded by the rodeo marshal for 2007, Mr J J Wang, a native of Nanking who came to Moab in the late 1970s before setting himself up as a local business leader. It seemed totally incongruous to have a smiling Mr Wang seated on the back of a vintage white Ford Fairline convertible, dressed in a gleaming white cowboy shirt, wearing large spectacles and slowly waving a large white cowboy hat to the crowd. Before the rodeo began there was the singing of the Stars and Stripes, an invocation asking for heavenly help to keep cowboys and all livestock from harm and a request for all the military in the audience, both serving and veterans, to stand to receive the acclaim of the audience. Then the rodeo started with bareback bronco riding though the first horse didn't want to start out of the stall whatever the arena staff did to it followed by calf tying, steer wrestling, bronco riding and finally bull riding. The rodeo cowboys were thrown all over the arena by the animals and though some had to crawl out under the bars around the dirt arena no one appeared to be seriously damaged. There appeared to be a complicated scoring system which we didn't even start to understand but the scores determined which contestant won money on the night; that did become clear as the arena announcer passed on the judges decisions to the audience.
In between some of the men's events was a competition for lady riders riding barrel horses. These fast, small horses are bred and trained to race against the clock round a circuit in the arena marked out by three barrels which each horse and rider has to circle and then dash across the finish line. Very exciting as horse and rider make the turns right up against the arena barriers. But the highlight of the whole evening was an event called "mutton bust'n". This was an event in which children aged six and seven or so are introduced to rodeo and bronco busting. Each child, wearing a football helmet for safety, is placed on the back of a sheep, the stall opened and the youngster has to hold on to the sheep's fleece for as long as possible. Some of the sheep just dashed across the dirt whilst one or two actually bucked. No kid stayed on for more than three or four seconds, all were picked up by arena staff. No sheep was hurt in the process either. Its all good, clean rodeo fun.
In between some of the men's events was a competition for lady riders riding barrel horses. These fast, small horses are bred and trained to race against the clock round a circuit in the arena marked out by three barrels which each horse and rider has to circle and then dash across the finish line. Very exciting as horse and rider make the turns right up against the arena barriers. But the highlight of the whole evening was an event called "mutton bust'n". This was an event in which children aged six and seven or so are introduced to rodeo and bronco busting. Each child, wearing a football helmet for safety, is placed on the back of a sheep, the stall opened and the youngster has to hold on to the sheep's fleece for as long as possible. Some of the sheep just dashed across the dirt whilst one or two actually bucked. No kid stayed on for more than three or four seconds, all were picked up by arena staff. No sheep was hurt in the process either. Its all good, clean rodeo fun.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Hoodoos, Harleys and Sounds of the Sixties
So, finally on the road with places to go and parks to see it soon became apparent that to do Utah justice we should have allowed at least a week for the south east of the state alone. Without wanting to appear too cliched the national park areas, as well as nearly all the space between them, took our breath away. A detour to Cedar Breaks National Monument outside Cedar City then onto Route 12 that took us past Bryce Canyon and Escalante NPs then a drive around the south western edge of Capitol Reef NP laid out one spectacular view after another. Even though the weather in the south was bright and sunny there was a chill wind blowing. A day or so before there had been a sudden fall of snow and temperatures had dropped below freezing. We were at about 10,000 feet and there was still snow on the ground but as we drove north and came down to 2,000 or 3,000 feet the thermometer started reaching back into the 80s and 90s. Through a very few small towns and clusters of houses and trailers in what seems to be the middle of not anywhere much Utah is the place for hiking, horse riding, mountain biking and camping. High mountains give way to a land of canyons and salt flats and expanses of sand. Sometimes as we drove up along twisting mountain roads we came out into meadow land surrounded by distant snow covered mountain peaks. Other times we were in thick forests which suddenly changed into scrub covered range with cattle grazing by rivers. Horses standing in wood fenced enclosures watched us drive past. Cowboys - yes, cowboys - watched over groups of grazing cattle close to the road. Eventually we left the Route 12 Scenic Route, onto 24 which was nearly deserted for mile after mile after mile as the road ran northwards to meet I-70 close to the Green River and then east and south on 191 into Moab.
Overnight in Moab, a mecca for followers of outdoor activities - biking, hiking, ATV, Jeep and Hummer driving, Colorado River rafters and wilderness camping - we spent a full day in Arches NP. Words cannot start to describe the grandeur of this place. Easily drivable with well placed stopping places, carefully graded hiking trails took us to vantage points for most of the wonders of the park. We followed the easiest trails but more adept and experienced hikers could go along trails involving rock scrambles or even what are referred to as primitive trails that are not clearly marked and which need special permission from the Park Service to use. There are a few special 4x4 tracks as well as mountain bike trails which can only be used with special permits because of the fragility of the crust on the surface of most of the park. We saw the main sights in the park, the Delicate Arch and the Balanced Rock, but most of the time we just drove, stopped, stood and were amazed by the beauty of the place. Strange rock formations and canyons, narrow valleys and expanses of scrubland all framed by mountain range after mountain range to the horizon. The whole park has a layer of salt beneath it that was left by the evaporation of a primordial ocean eons ago. Over millenia, layers of sand were deposited on top of the salt, became compressed and formed thick masses of sandstone. Movements in the earth's surface pushed the underlying salt upwards and the effects of water and wind carved out the canyons, standing stones and amazing arches of the park. The process goes on to today which is why, following a sudden rock fall in 1991, no one is permitted to stand under one of the most spectacular arches in the park.
About 80 tons of sandstone suddenly dropped away from the underside of the arch on that day. A sudden heavy rainfall is supposed to have been absorbed into the pourous sandstone and the combined weight of the water and the soaked layer of stone just broke the mass of sandstone away from the arch. Amazingly, a tourist there at the time was able to film the whole event on Super 8!
But why, hoodoos, Harleys and the 60s? Hoodoos is the name for the standing columns of sandstone in the canyonlands, Harleys are everywhere and are definitely the way to travel in the parks - leather chaps over denim jeans, bandanas instead of helmets and tattoos but nice people who have ridden to Utah from all over the US - Easy Rider eat your heart out.
Oh, and the 60s is a radio station on Sirrus satellite radio that we have picked up on the car sound system.
SOME PICTURES WILL FOLLOW WHEN I HAVE TIME TO UPLOAD THEM!)
Overnight in Moab, a mecca for followers of outdoor activities - biking, hiking, ATV, Jeep and Hummer driving, Colorado River rafters and wilderness camping - we spent a full day in Arches NP. Words cannot start to describe the grandeur of this place. Easily drivable with well placed stopping places, carefully graded hiking trails took us to vantage points for most of the wonders of the park. We followed the easiest trails but more adept and experienced hikers could go along trails involving rock scrambles or even what are referred to as primitive trails that are not clearly marked and which need special permission from the Park Service to use. There are a few special 4x4 tracks as well as mountain bike trails which can only be used with special permits because of the fragility of the crust on the surface of most of the park. We saw the main sights in the park, the Delicate Arch and the Balanced Rock, but most of the time we just drove, stopped, stood and were amazed by the beauty of the place. Strange rock formations and canyons, narrow valleys and expanses of scrubland all framed by mountain range after mountain range to the horizon. The whole park has a layer of salt beneath it that was left by the evaporation of a primordial ocean eons ago. Over millenia, layers of sand were deposited on top of the salt, became compressed and formed thick masses of sandstone. Movements in the earth's surface pushed the underlying salt upwards and the effects of water and wind carved out the canyons, standing stones and amazing arches of the park. The process goes on to today which is why, following a sudden rock fall in 1991, no one is permitted to stand under one of the most spectacular arches in the park.
About 80 tons of sandstone suddenly dropped away from the underside of the arch on that day. A sudden heavy rainfall is supposed to have been absorbed into the pourous sandstone and the combined weight of the water and the soaked layer of stone just broke the mass of sandstone away from the arch. Amazingly, a tourist there at the time was able to film the whole event on Super 8!
But why, hoodoos, Harleys and the 60s? Hoodoos is the name for the standing columns of sandstone in the canyonlands, Harleys are everywhere and are definitely the way to travel in the parks - leather chaps over denim jeans, bandanas instead of helmets and tattoos but nice people who have ridden to Utah from all over the US - Easy Rider eat your heart out.
Oh, and the 60s is a radio station on Sirrus satellite radio that we have picked up on the car sound system. SOME PICTURES WILL FOLLOW WHEN I HAVE TIME TO UPLOAD THEM!)
Thursday, June 7, 2007
The Leaving of Las Vegas
Today, Thursday 7th June, was our first day on the road. A cab ride to Car Rental Road to pick up a car at the Las Vegas McClarren Airport Car Rental Center, a massive terminal building just outside the airport where once my paperwork with Dollar was completed we took an elevator down to the Dollar garage area. 
Thinking that I would be given a particular car I was surprised to be told by the Dollar employee to just go over to a row of cars and pick the one I wanted. That was all except for someone at the gate checking the car's identity and recording it on my rental contract.
North out of Las Vegas on I-15N we soon left the Strip and downtown and were quickly out onto open highway. Lots of sandy, stoney scrubland led through stoney, sandy, hills all sharing one common factor. This is the dressing by the wind of nearly every brush and cactus with waste plastic bags which blow across the highway with each sudden gust of wind. On to and through the Moape Reservation with a stop for water at the Maope Piute Smoke Shop which is large structure seemingly only in existence for the sale of fireworks and alcohol as well as some general merchandise and with a tribal casino right next to it.
Everything is open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and there is even a firework testing range next to the store where customers can test out the fireworks they have bought.
Though we were aiming to reach Zion National Park by early afternoon our plans were put into disarray because we stopped in the town of Mesquite to buy 'provisions' before we went on northwards. Well actually we stopped at a Wal*Mart to get a cooler box, some ice, water and the suchlike together with lunch from the shelves of the store- hummous, salad and fruit. The other factor we hadn't taken into account was that there is a time difference of 1 hour when crossing the Nevada state line, a little bit of Arizona and into Utah from the south. We weren't aware of the clock moving 1 hour forward as we went north until we checked into
our motel in Cedar City but it was then crystal clear why the park rangers were closing the road into Zion at what we thought was 4 pm but was actually 5 pm Utah time. But the day wasn't wasted at all. We saw amazing rock formations and distant mountains coloured the most amazing colours as well as wonderful scenery when we took a detour off I-15N in the direction of a small town called Leeds and on towards Silver Reef.
So here we are in Cedar City, Utah on what is a very cold and windy night. We are something over 5000 ft above sea level and there is a chilly wind blowing from the north west so we are very grateful that we brought one warm jacket each.
Tomorrow it is an early drive north east on 12 for about 300 miles up to Moab through Bryce Canyon and Capitol Reef National Parks for Capitol Reef and Canyonlands National Parks as well as Arches National Park if there is enough time before leaving Utah on Monday morning.
Thinking that I would be given a particular car I was surprised to be told by the Dollar employee to just go over to a row of cars and pick the one I wanted. That was all except for someone at the gate checking the car's identity and recording it on my rental contract.North out of Las Vegas on I-15N we soon left the Strip and downtown and were quickly out onto open highway. Lots of sandy, stoney scrubland led through stoney, sandy, hills all sharing one common factor. This is the dressing by the wind of nearly every brush and cactus with waste plastic bags which blow across the highway with each sudden gust of wind. On to and through the Moape Reservation with a stop for water at the Maope Piute Smoke Shop which is large structure seemingly only in existence for the sale of fireworks and alcohol as well as some general merchandise and with a tribal casino right next to it.
Everything is open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and there is even a firework testing range next to the store where customers can test out the fireworks they have bought.
Though we were aiming to reach Zion National Park by early afternoon our plans were put into disarray because we stopped in the town of Mesquite to buy 'provisions' before we went on northwards. Well actually we stopped at a Wal*Mart to get a cooler box, some ice, water and the suchlike together with lunch from the shelves of the store- hummous, salad and fruit. The other factor we hadn't taken into account was that there is a time difference of 1 hour when crossing the Nevada state line, a little bit of Arizona and into Utah from the south. We weren't aware of the clock moving 1 hour forward as we went north until we checked into
our motel in Cedar City but it was then crystal clear why the park rangers were closing the road into Zion at what we thought was 4 pm but was actually 5 pm Utah time. But the day wasn't wasted at all. We saw amazing rock formations and distant mountains coloured the most amazing colours as well as wonderful scenery when we took a detour off I-15N in the direction of a small town called Leeds and on towards Silver Reef.So here we are in Cedar City, Utah on what is a very cold and windy night. We are something over 5000 ft above sea level and there is a chilly wind blowing from the north west so we are very grateful that we brought one warm jacket each.
Tomorrow it is an early drive north east on 12 for about 300 miles up to Moab through Bryce Canyon and Capitol Reef National Parks for Capitol Reef and Canyonlands National Parks as well as Arches National Park if there is enough time before leaving Utah on Monday morning.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Coming to Las Vegas
The first couple of days and not a lot to tell. A cab ride from the airport, via Paris to see the Israeli Superpharmette before she flew back to Tel Aviv, south away from the Strip to the South Point Resort and Casino which is a huge golden yellow building out into the Valley. A barn-like casino full of slots and slots and slots with C &W musak through the speaker system. Not a 'sophisticated' place but rather blue collar America on vacation. Good facilities at very reasonable mid-week prices. A huge bedroom with a 42" plasma screen TV, an 8 screen movie theatre on site together with a 64 lane bowling alley and a big pool outdoors. Go and see Shrek 3; a good movie.
Day One was hot, hot, hot. Temperatures in the 100s and strong winds blowing dust in from the desert. So much so that the pool area was closed in the afternoon for safety reasons. The Man from Dayton arrived yesterday to surprise me so that was my pre-birthday treat that everyone appears to have known about except me. But then it wouldn't have been a surprise otherwise. He's here with us today then flies back home when we check out and onto the road tomorrow .
Day One was hot, hot, hot. Temperatures in the 100s and strong winds blowing dust in from the desert. So much so that the pool area was closed in the afternoon for safety reasons. The Man from Dayton arrived yesterday to surprise me so that was my pre-birthday treat that everyone appears to have known about except me. But then it wouldn't have been a surprise otherwise. He's here with us today then flies back home when we check out and onto the road tomorrow .
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