04Apr10 (Easter Sunday) Kanab, UT - Zion, UT

There were so many interesting motels in Kabab, that Derek and I checked Trip Advisor via his Blackberry. The #1 rated motel was booked, so we read about the second most highly rated: The Sun-n-Sands Motel. This surprised us, because it looked pretty dingy. There were 22 reviews, and we had pulled into the Sun-n-Sands as we were reading them. The one said: ‘Don’t be deceived by appearances – either by the outside of the motel or the owner, Wayne. Both are great.’ As we’re hunched over the blackberry reading this, we look up to see a man in his late 50’s or early 60’s, standing outside the office, long grey hair pulled back in a pony tail, beard, scruffy clothing and no shoes. Hmmm, that must be Wayne. We exit the car, and he approaches us, big smile, with only two teeth. He tells us about the room, and that we can pick out a package of hot chocolate and take a mug back to the room with us if we like (which I do), and explains the continental breakfast in the morning. He’s very animated, and very kind. The motel, built in 1951 and not exactly glamorous, is perfectly clean and has everything we need. Plus the shower has good water pressure, which, after the accumulated grime of the past few days (the last motel’s shower was a drip) is a big bonus.

Wayne’s hospitality is great. The next morning, he made awesome coffee, (can’t see the bottom of the cup!) and when he found out I liked strawberries, he brought me an extra bowl. We chat with him a bit, and find out he’s really renovated the Sun-n-Sands (it used to be a complete shithole), that he’s only been doing this for two years, and that prior to that he worked construction for 20 years. Screwing up my photographic courage (because I’m a big pansy when it comes to taking pictures of strangers), I ask if I can take his portrait, and I hear his wife (not nearly so friendly as him) say from the side room – ‘you should start charging for that.’ He amicably accepts, warning me that my lens might crack when I took his picture, but I assured him I was willing to take the risk. “These past two years everyone wants to take my picture,” he barks. “Before that people used to run away from me. The only ones wanting my pictures were the cops!”

I take a quick portrait by the Sun-n-Sands sign. Then we head back to the main office where I grab a few more strawberries. An old, hardened looking man in a Mount St. Helen’s Sasquatch t-shirt walks in. Derek immediately notices the shirt, saying how he almost wore his own today, and starts talking Bigfoot with him. Derek discusses the theory that the major population of Sasquatch’s were wiped out by the Mt. Saint Helen’s explosion, but Wayne joins in the conversation by saying he thinks that since the Bigfoots are ancient beings, they would have been smarter, sensed the eruption and escaped. The conversation of three grown men discussing Bigfoot is too much, I have to take a picture. As soon as I do, the guy wearing the t-shirt tells me not to take any pictures of him. I ask him why not. He says he’s a private person. He had recognized my camera when he came in, so I ask him about that – how he knows cameras. He’s a photographer himself, but landscape, no people. Turns out he is a Vietnam Vet who did photo recon work for the military. The conversation is amicable, and I respectfully refrain from taking his picture, though a tough old man in a Bigfoot t-shirt makes my trigger finger itch.

But the idle chitchat must end, because I have only a couple of hours to do this blog. While I work on it, Derek photographs around town. It’s a tradeoff – to miss these morning photograph sessions – to get the blog done, but I trust Derek to document it, and I at least get to see the town driving to and from it. Derek and I have our daily tense time at checkout, where he tries hard to be patient while I scramble to finish the blog before we pass the checkout hour. We say goodbye to Wayne, who knows all about the Trip Advisor entries, laughing at the way some people have described him, and tells us to write one, but only if we liked the motel.

We drive towards Zion, a last minute addition to the schedule. I decided it would be criminal for Derek to be so near the park and not have a chance to see it. Besides, what better way to spend Easter than in a National Park named after a city of God.

We pass pale trees that have not yet bloomed, and a firing range set up against one of the cliffs. Though it’s only 60 miles to Zion, each drive takes longer than we anticipate, thanks to our penchant to stop at practically every scenic spot for pictures. I’d forgotten how long it can take to drive from one place to another when one is enjoying the scenery. Since driving is such a part of this trip, it is crucial to enjoy the drive as much as the stops. Our slow driving progress shows how well we’re succeeding I am also always amazed that throughout this trip, taking as many back roads as we can find, we are often able to stop in the middle of the road without it being a problem - without ever, in fact, seeing a car. We both like this sense of isolation.

Derek and I have our daily session of fighting for control of the air temperature, which is to say I turn the knob towards the red, and one minute later he turns it to the blue. We don’t do it on purpose, I just suddenly realize I’m cold, or he hot, but it is a constant battle.

Zion appears like a dream of rocky splendor, pastel colors and every surface of rock imaginable: those that look like checkerboards; those that look melted buttery smooth from a distance, others that look like layers of slate or broken wafers with their piles of thin layered rocks; wrinkled; cracked; chipped; and crenulated. It is the power of water and time to create such rugged beauty, what the National Park itself calls the music of water.

It is overcast, so not great picture taking weather, but its beauty is undeniable. We have reached Zion on the cusp of blooming. The trees themselves seem spray painted with spring green, the tiniest buds just beginning to appear. As we drive through the splendor, valleys falling far below us, I wonder if a photo could ever truly capture the dizzying feel of vertigo at being so high.

The road matches landscape – a brick color that blends in rather than distracts. The constant rolls in the hilly landscape give the illusion of the road looking like taffy and unreal. I like that the parks think hard about minimalizing even the visual impact they have on the landscape. It makes a difference.

Derek and I arrive at the rapidly filling campsites, but our luck holds, as we find one that is down a level and more secluded. Perhaps it wasn’t filled because you can’t park your car directly in front of it, but it was perfect for us, and we didn’t mind lugging our gear the extra distance.

We made ourselves what Derek thought were chicken patties for lunch, but realized upon closer inspection were actually veggie Chick’n patties. But they were still damn good.

We walked to the visitor center and hopped on the shuttle there (they don’t allow you to drive into the heart of the park to prevent congestion). We ended up doing a few hikes, one which led along a cliff face following the Virgin River, which eventually connected to one that led to waterfalls falling over you. Our final hike was to the not quite bloomed hanging gardens. I can only imagine how amazing it will look in a few weeks, but it was still fun to learn about the water that seeps out of the rock in that area, caused by porous limestone absorbing water which travels through the rock until it hits slate, then is forced out of the walls. It takes 1200 years for this process. Rocks that cry 1200 year old tears, there’s a song in that somewhere.

By the time we arrived back at the visitor center it was completely dark. We whipped out a flashlight and a headlamp, but were completely turned around as to which direction to walk, and did a full circle before we finally asked the next shuttle driver to point us in the right direction.

I started a fire while Derek cooked us tamales. Then I boiled some water for hot chocolate (which we now had a hankering for after Wayne’s super marshmallow hot chocolate the night before). We each cracked open a beer. It was my first of the trip, so I knew I was feeling better. The night was practically warm – a balmy 40. We enjoyed each others company, our tamales, our beers, our hot chocolate, several roasted marshmallows, the warmth of the fire, the moonlit landscape, and the ceaseless howl of the coyotes.

I suppose this is a good time to mention that Derek is growing a beard (at my request) during the duration of this trip. He reserves at any moment the right to shave it off, (and indeed, shaved it when we were in Vegas) but I think it looks good. He’s never grown more than two days of stubble, so it will be interesting to see if he can tolerate it, and what it will look like by the end. With five or six days growth, he blends right in.

Captions:

1. Wayne, the owner of the Sun-n-Sands Motel

2. Zion National Park (Virgin River)

3. Crossing the stream on the Emerald Pools Hike

4. Upper waterfall on the Emerald Pools Hike

5. Derek, with his newly beginning beard

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