Day Nine - Vegas to BWI - Home Sweet Home (Aug. 4 - 5, 2013)

Our last day of vacation.  I was sad to leave but I think we all were ready to head home.  It had been a go-go-go trip without much of a break and we were just physically drained.  Time to go home and recharge.  But before we could do that, we still had an entire day to spend in Vegas.  Our flight wasn't until 11:37 that night.  What to do?  What to do?

Outside the Venetian

Inside Caesar's

Steve hadn't seen the Caesar's Forum area since he was off collecting the Penn and Teller tickets while Michael and I browsed so he decided he would like to see it.  We packed up and drove the car(t) to Caesar's and self parked there.  We ambled around the Forum Shoppes and took in the fabulous architecture.  We browsed the shops, but seriously, could not buy anything.  It was all Gucci, Tiffany, Dolce and Gabbana, Jimmy Choo, Louis Vuitton.  Nothing that we could afford or wanted to buy even if we had the money.  The stores were beautiful but what a waste.  There were at most two people in each store, and usually not even one customer.  What was the point?  There was an H&M later on in the mall and Michael was able to purchase a reasonably priced pair of sunglasses.  I would love to know if these stores actually generate revenue or if they are there for show.  Which would be ridiculous, if that's the case.

As we were passing one area I noted that they had a Carmine's which is the favorite restaurant of a friend of mine.  She often eats there when she goes up to New York.  She raves about it.  And Steve had eaten there about a month before when he'd had to go to New York on business.  Turns out that the restaurant had just opened three weeks before!  It was now the largest restaurant in Vegas.  It was really nice.  And the decor was beautiful.  The meal we had was outstanding.  Food is served family style which means large plates of food meant to feed more than one or two people.  The waiter was extremely friendly and when we got to talking about how we had time to kill he told us about Red Rock Canyon which was only about 15 minutes outside of Vegas.  He thought maybe we might want to drive through there seeing as how we loved the Grand Canyon and Bryce so much.

Inside Carmine's

But we still had a few more spots to visit before Vegas could be checked off our list.  We still hadn't seen the Bellagio water show except in bits and pieces and Michael wanted to go to shops where he had a chance of buying something.  So we walked the "Miracle Mile Shops" at Planet Hollywood.  Meh.  Not great.  No shops really worth spending time or money in.  So we moseyed on over to the Bellagio for the water show.  As usual it was on as we walked up so we missed part of it.  This time we were determined to see it from start to finish so we waited around for the next show to begin and very appropriately the water danced to the Elvis version of "Viva Las Vegas."  Really great!  We never did see it at night, but this was still very good.

We also had to check off the frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity because the guide book recommended it.  Meh again.  $11 for a hot chocolate that was frozen.  And not very sweet.  Rip off.  With that our list was checked and checked again.  According to the list, we had DONE Las Vegas.  NEXT!

So, list complete.  Family tired.  Too much heat, too much walking, too many people--weird and otherwise, just all TOO MUCH.  So we retreated to the car(t) and went for a drive. We didn't really have much of a destination in mind.

Red Rock Canyon

But somehow we did end up at Red Rock Canyon about 6:30 pm.  It was beautiful there.  What made it fun was searching for geocaches on our way there and also within the park itself.  The park closed at dark but we had about an hour plus there to just drive around and look at the canyon and collect a couple of geocaches.  After we left the park we located one on Spruce Goose Dr. in the suburbs of Las Vegas.  It had something to do with Howard Hughes but I still haven't figured out the connection yet other than Hughes had plane that he called the "Spruce Goose."

Geocache in Red Rock Canyon

Around 8:30 we had a quick dinner at Tropical Cafe (remember we were flying Spirit -- the no-food, no-drink airline).  We each got a half sandwich and a smoothie.  A perfect meal!  At this point we figured we'd better head out to the airport since we still had to turn in our trusty little golf cart and straighten out the Thrifty vs. Payless issue.  And the rental car place wasn't at the airport either.  So we headed out of town and waved a sad goodbye to Sin City.

The car drop off was relatively painless.  We did have to wait a bit for the Thrifty person to figure out all the paperwork for our car rental with Payless, but that turned out to be okay as well.  We headed out to grab the shuttle to the airport.  Yes, we were relatively early for our flight but as it turned out, that was a VERY GOOD thing.

Another geocache right off the road

"WOW!  Look at that LINE!"  I exclaimed as we were taking our bags off the shuttle bus.  It was monstrous.  I was praying it wasn't ours.  Please, please, please dear God.  Don't be Spirit.  Don't be Spirit.  Don't be...

It was.

Shit.

The line went from the ticket agents, snaked back and forth like a ride in Fantasyland, and then trailed off into the sunset.  It was the longest check-in line I think I have ever seen.  And even after we got in it, it kept growing even longer.  I went to one of the kiosks to get our boarding passes since we hadn't printed them out at the hotel last night.  Not sure why, but we didn't.  I just plain forgot.

So I put in the reservation code.  Fine.  Started to check in.  Good.  When it got to the carry-on part I figured it would note that I had already paid for my one carry-on.  It did not.  WTF?  I had specifically paid for one carry-on for me and three checked in suitcases for all three of us.  I tried again.  Nope.  It would not show that I had paid.  Well, I wasn't the hell going to pay AGAIN!  HIGHWAY ROBBERY!!  THIEF!!  HELP!!  RIPOFF!  I was incensed.  I grabbed my iPhone to scroll through my messages to look for the reservation information.  Clearly it showed I had paid for a carry-on and three checked bags.  So I tried to check in again.  Nope.  The stupid kiosk still wanted me to pay again.  AND might I add that now that I was at the airport, the cost for the carry-on had gone up.  Paying prior to getting to the airport is one price.  At the ticket agent is a second price, and if you don't pony up until the boarding area, the cost for a carry-on is in the neighborhood of $100 I think.  It's extortion.  And I flat out refused to pay again for luggage I had clearly already paid for.  So I just printed out the boarding passes "as is" and bypassed all the luggage info figuring I would explain when I got to the ticket agent.  I could show her my iPhone and the receipt information.

Couple that with the fact that Steve comes and tells me that there is actually another line feeding into this already grossly overpopulated line we were already in and I was ready to blow a gasket.  What was THAT for?  So I marched over to someone in the line to ask what that line was for.  Turns out it was for people that had already paid for their bags and had their boarding passes.  It was called the "Fast Bag" line.  THAT WAS ME!!  I had my boarding pass (albeit with a huge "NO CARRY-ON" scrawled across it but I had paid for my bags AND I had the boarding pass.  I instructed Steve to go stand in that line and Michael and I would stay in the line we were in and whoever got to the front first we'd go with.  Well, they don't call it "Fast Bag" for nothing!  We were only about halfway through our line when Steve got to the front.  Oh, don't let me forget to say that we had to keep moving stuff from one suitcase to the other, redistributing clothes and weight so that we didn't go over the 40 lb. mark, too as we dragged our cases along the line keeping up with the flow of traffic.

So off to the "Fast Bag" line we went.  The ticket agent was a young Nurse Rachet from "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."  You DID NOT want to mess with her.  I was as nice as I have ever been in my life as I explained the "little mix-up" with the bags.  I showed her my iPhone receipt.  She kept saying she couldn't understand why the bags weren't showing up as being paid for, but she relented and tagged the bags and we were on our way.  Honey, vinegar, flies, and all that.  You see, I was vindicated!!  Huzzah!

The only thing that was bothering me now was that my boarding pass still had that "NO CARRY-ON" in bold letters on it.  I guess I would have to talk to the gate agent about the problem and show him my trusty iPhone receipt, too.

Security next.  This couldn't be too bad, right?  I mean it was like 10:30 at night.  Who flies this late?  Good God.  The security line made the Spirit line look like the Fastpass line.  It was a joke.  A complete and utter joke.  Nothing moved.  People kept stacking up like chocolates on Lucy's conveyor belt as they checked their boarding pass and ID but then did not move.  We were circus clowns being herded into one tiny clown car.  Of course, (I blame Steve) we got moved to the line that moved more slowly.  He always says he picks the slowest line. 

THEN a family of about 15 people, three in wheelchairs all got to butt to the front of the line.  I still can't figure out why.  And even then, the two "lines" merged into one at the end when each person from both lines had to go through that stupid x-ray machine where you put your hands up like you've been arrested.  We thought we had scads of time but security took at least a half an hour to get through so by the time we got to the gate we had about 30 minutes until boarding.  And to cap it off, the flight had been delayed to 11:47 which wasn't a big deal--ten minutes.  Why even bother announcing it?

The waiting area for Spirit looked like a refugee camp.  People were sprawled everywhere.  Lying on the ground.  Lying across multiple chairs.  Camped out up and down the entire walkway to the waiting areas and the waiting areas themselves were completely filled.  And forget finding an electrical outlet.  There were people stationed everywhere trying to charge up all their devices for the flight.  Stick a fork in me, I was DONE.

I went over to the gate agent to explain my boarding pass dilemma showing him my iPhone and the email regarding my bags.  He said it wouldn't be a problem.  Whew.  Okay, let's get this show on the road!

Having nothing better to do with my last 30 minutes in Vegas, I did what the other thousand people around me were doing, I was messing around with my iPhone.  As I was sitting there I was scrolling through my email for the thousandth time, I FINALLY found the actual receipt for Spirit Airlines.  Okay!  Finally!  I found it!!  VINDICA....

Uh oh.

Shit.

I had paid for the tickets, I had paid for the seats to and from Vegas, I had paid for the carry-on to Vegas, and the three checked bags to Vegas, but apparently SOMEHOW I hadn't paid for the bags going back.  I just don't know how it happened.  I guess I figured that if I put in four bags coming, then naturally I would be bringing back four bags and the system would figure that out.  I figured it was automatic.  I don't know.  The color drained from my face.  I felt like a thief, a fraud, a criminal.  I should've kept my big mouth shut, but my guilt compelled me to confess.  I had to tell someone.  I told Steve and Michael.  Michael laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.  Steve rolled his eyes and teased me about how indignant I had been that they were trying to RIP ME OFF!  Okay, okay.  I get it.  Michael kept it up for quite a while until I was ready to smack him over the head with my contraband carry-on.  From the receipt below, you can see the bags paid for on the one side of the line, but a lot of zeroes on the other side.  Oops.  Que sera sera.

After what seemed like an eternity, the call for us to board came over the loudspeaker. We were in Zone 4 so we couldn't board until last.  Crap.  I hate that.   When we got in line and moved toward the plane I got more and more afraid that they wouldn't let me on.  I wasn't indignant anymore.  I was a felon.  But my loving husband took a dive for me distracting the gate agent by handing him all three boarding passes for us as I marched on through.  Michael was making snide comments about my bag, but I ignored the jibes and tore down the gangway to freedom!

From there on everything was pretty much standard.  Flight was 3 hours 59 minutes.  Sitting that long was miserable and my restless leg syndrome was pretty bad around hour three, but I soldiered on and we finally landed before I got a raging case of the "Jimmy legs."  Spirit never found out about my thievery since our bags were circling on the carousel.  Getting to the car was quick and smooth and we were back home by 9:00 am.

And just so you don't leave this story thinking ill of me, I donated $75 dollars to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society to make up for the luggage fiasco.  It was a win-win.  Which, having just come from Vegas, is a pretty amazing thing, don't you think? ;)

Day Eight - St. George back to Vegas, baby! (Aug. 3, 2013)

The Marriott had an included continental breakfast which was served until 10:30.  We barely made it down in time, and Michael, of course, was still sleeping.  We ate and then brought a couple of armloads full back for Michael to munch on as we got ready to leave.  We were out the door by 11:10.  As we drove back in Nevada, we gained an hour.  Utah was Mountain time, but Nevada is on Pacific time.  So it practically took no time at all to get there!  Magic!

I desperately needed a restroom break partway through the trip back so we finally happened across civilization and there was an AM/PM store (think 7-11) with a gas station.  After my pit stop, I went to refill my bladder by getting a fountain drink.  What to my wondering eyes did appear but the refill cups I have been searching for lo these last five years!  Five (or so) years ago, 7-11 sold these very sturdy cups which could be washed in the dishwasher and used for much cheaper refills on soda.  I tend to drink A LOT of fountain soda so refills save me money.  The cups are great, but over the years after MUCH use and MANY washings, some have cracked and I've had to get rid of them.  I was down to about four.  Stop with your nasty cracks, other family members use them, too!  I had been searching for some replacements for the ones that cracked and AM/PM had the exact same cup, except, of course, for their logo being on the side rather than 7-11.  I was SO HAPPY!!  I bought one and made Steve buy one.  It absolutely made my day.  Small things do.  I thanked my bladder profusely for making me stop where we did.

I also noticed that this particular AM/PM had a geocache on the premises!  Double score!  It took awhile but we finally found it.  So this was our Nevada find.  Another state to log!  Cool deal.

Our room the "Bella Suite" at the Venetian

We got to Vegas by 12:30 (with the time change) and parked in the Paris hotel self-park which we had determined was near the Half Price Tickets booth.  After much debate, we had decided to go to Blue Man Group that night.  It was the highlight of Michael's fifth grade NYC trip when he and Steve saw it on Broadway during his field trip with Temple Emanuel.  That and the deli, of course.

Blue Man Theater in the Monte Carlo

Today was a super hot one!  We had to wait in a relatively long line for the tickets, but finally got them for the 9:30 show.  The 7:00 show was already sold out.  We also bought vouchers for a restaurant in the Monte Carlo hotel where the show was.  The voucher (for $3) got us half price meals at the Cafe at Monte Carlo.  Since you have to actually go to the theater to pick up the tickets for the show (like we did for Penn and Teller) we thought maybe we should walk to the Monte Carlo to immediately pick up our tickets hoping to get good seats.

The Paris at night

Everything in Vegas looks close because everything in Vegas is HUGE.  When things are that vast, they always seem close because, well, how could something that big be far away?  It's some kind of optical illusion, I guess, because the Monte Carlo, which looked like it was about 2 blocks away was probably more like a mile and 1/2 away.  We just kept walking and walking and walking and never seemed to get any closer.  Was it a mirage?  We were in the desert after all.

We finally made it and picked up the tickets.  Row M.  Very, very good seats!  I'm excited.  They had a Blue Man Group store that sold souvenirs next to the theater.  I went in to browse.  I mean, come on, it was a souvenir store, after all.  I tried to get Michael to get himself something there.  He wouldn't.  We'd been gone for eight days and the boy had yet to get himself one thing.  Is he for real?  I don't get it.  No t-shirts, sweatshirts, cool trinkets, Blue Man wear, hats, books (okay, well, I do understand THAT one) etc. etc.  Nothing.  Nada.  It's his form of passive/aggression.  When he's in a mood he just shuts down.  So I figured maybe later, closer to show time he'd relent and let me buy him something.  Am I for real?

The canals of the Venetian

It was a very long walk back to the car.  From there we went to the Venetian which is where I'd made reservations for our final night.  I was excited to see this hotel above all others since I am such a fan of Venice.  When Steve and I visited there in 1994 we had such a wonderful time I was hoping that visiting the hotel would remind me of that magical city.

While Michael and Steve took it easy in the room (the Bella Suite!) I wanted to see the canals, so while they ate their Panda Express that they picked up on the way to the hotel, I wandered the streets and canals of "Venice."  It was amazing!  Beautiful!  Breathtaking!  Sumptious!  I wandered the Grand Canal Shoppes area like I was touring St. Mark's Square.  I took lots and lots of photos and watched the gondoliers ferrying tourists up and down the indoor canal.

I found the gift shop for the hotel and bought some souvenirs for family there along with a bottle of Moscato.  After about an hour and a half of wandering and picture taking I went back to the room and shared the bottle with Steve.

St. Mark's Square - inside the hotel

Around seven we got ready to go back to the Monte Carlo for dinner and the show.  We drove to the hotel (way too far to walk) and self parked the car(t).  We got to the restaurant around 7:30 or 8.  There was hardly anyone in the monstrous restaurant.  Maybe that was a hint...but no, the food was fine.  The service was a bit slow considering we were almost the only people there, but we were in no hurry.

As we were finishing up, I happened to pull out the tickets for the show.  I looked closely at them. Closer.  Pulled out my reading glasses.  OH FOR GOD'S SAKE!  The tickets were for the WRONG TIME AND THE WRONG DATE.  Rather than being for tonight's show at 9:30, they were for TOMORROW'S show at 7:00 pm.  Yes.  The day we were leaving.

"I think we have a problem."  Steve looked up.  "What?"  "The tickets are wrong."  "What?  What do you mean?"  "He gave us tickets for tomorrow at 7."  "WHAT?!?"  Steve grabs the tickets, "OH MAN!"  I said, "Go to the box office and get it fixed.  I'll take care of the bill here."  He and Michael head off in a flurry to try and fix the issue.  Crap.

Getting out of the restaurant took almost as long as ordering and eating the meal.  And with no one in there, I just couldn't figure out why.  I FINALLY got the bill paid and ran across to the box office where Steve and Michael were still attempting to get the ticket issue resolved.  I was worried that there were no more seats available.  That would've been AWFUL.  Well, we did get tickets.  Row S.  Six rows back from where we were.  Oh well.  Nothing we could do about it.  I just can't understand how someone gets both the date AND time wrong!

Back to the souvenir shop where I picked up something for my nephew who was watching our pets for us.  And I FINALLY convinced Michael to get a T-shirt there.  It is solid black with a VERY SMALL logo of the Blue Man Group in the corner of the shirt.  The shop also sold drum heads which had been used in the show.  I thought they were cool.  Michael did too, but just wouldn't let me get him one.  The shopkeeper told us that typically you can get the Blue Man Group to autograph the drum head.  I thought it would be an amazing souvenir.  Finally as Steve and Michael lined up to get into the theater I told them I had to use the rest room and would meet up with them. And, of course, I went and bought a drum head for after the show.

A quick camera shot from the end of the show

The show was wonderful.  I wholeheartedly endorse you seeing it if you get to a town where they perform.  There are quite a few where you can catch them including Chicago, NYC, Las Vegas, and a few others.  It was fun, funny, fast, fantastic, amazing, cool, artistic, awe-inspiring, and very, very  colorful.  I would suggest, though, that if you are epileptic you may want to pass.  There are so many flashing lights that I can't believe they didn't have a warning outside the theater.  They usually do for a show like this.  They really should.

Michael said he thought it was even better than the one he saw in NYC.  So that's high praise coming from him.  RIGHT after the show ended we ran out so that we could get autographs and pictures with the Blue Men and their band.  We were the first ones out in the lobby and the entire band was standing there.  I borrowed a sharpie from the gift shop and had the entire band sign the drum head.  Then we were told that the Blue Men were in the inner lobby taking pictures with people so we ran inside.  Michael had his picture taken with each Blue Man and each one "signed" his drum head by smearing some of their blue paint onto it.  Fingers or head prints.  The shop had given us clear stickers for this because the paint doesn't dry so in order to keep the "signature" we had to cover them with clear stickers.  All in all a great experience for all of us.  Fun, fun, fun.

The band

Blue men?

Creepy cool

A new recruit?

By this time it was late so we just went back to the hotel and collapsed into bed and had sweet dreams readying us for our LAST day in Vegas.

Day Seven - Bryce to....St. George?? UT (Aug. 2, 2013)

At the start of Queens Garden

It turns out that I had not made any plans for the night of Aug. 2.  I think in my planning phase I decided that we needed a bit of flexibility in case maybe we wanted to stay longer at Bryce or go on to Vegas so I left this day open.  Well, as it turned out, we decided maybe we'd like to stay at Bryce for another night.  Bryce did not agree.  There were no vacancies available so we would have to move on.  Sad face.

Before the fight

Before we left, though, we still had to hike.  Since we'd gotten there late last night we hadn't gotten in our hike for this park.  Because of the condition I was now in (shattered legs), Steve picked out a relatively tame hike for our Bryce adventure.  Especially for us who'd already done the Canyon and lived.  Queens Garden to Navajo Point to the Rim and back to Queens Garden.  Easy peasy.  It was a total of 2.9 miles.  Pfft.  Please.  That's such an easy hike, it is almost embarrassing for us hikers to admit we'd even consider.   Humph.

After my harrowing experience in the Canyon I should be glad for such an easy hike!  I think I may need mental help.  Hubris.  The gods love it.

We went to the General Store and picked up something for lunch and some waters. 

Then to Queens Garden we went.  The whole hike took two hours, but only because we really futzed around.  See video below.

The never ending rock fight.

Navajo point area

Otherwise, I'm sure we could've done it quicker, but we had no where to go really and we were having fun.  The park was beautiful and the hoodoos were great to look at.  There were some prime photos to be taken, and the view from down below was vastly different than up on the rim.  It is so sad that so few tourists ever get to see this view of things.  Why?  Because so many choose to stay close to their cars and see the sights by the "seat of their pants."  When we visited Yellowstone a few years back we hiked the trails there pretty much every day and every day we'd only see a handful of people on the trails.  But once we would get back the parking area it was wall-to-wall people.   They'd get out of their cars and walk to the geyser or hot pot or whatever was being highlighted.  They'd take a picture, walk back to their cars and drive on.  No one takes the time to really see these parks.  They only see the surface of these beautiful sites.  It's a shame.

Looking up the hoodoos from down below.

So after our hike at Bryce we headed out.  We stopped at Ruby's Old West town.  Waste of time.  If you don't like rocks, no need to visit.  We did do a geocache after this and got a U.S. Army coin to move along which I am going to do soon.

Speed limits along this part of the road were 75 and 80 so we were cruising.  It's amazing how fast these hybrid golf carts can go!  Impressive!  We made it to the city of St. George by about 5 pm.  St. George is midway between Bryce and Vegas and there was nowhere else to go.  That was the only city around, so we decided to bunk down here.  I guess because of its proximity and being the only game around it wasn't such a shock that the town had few hotel rooms to spare.  We ended up in a Towne Place Residence by Marriott.  That was after checking the Best Western, the regular Marriott, and one other hotel that was also totally booked.  Even the Towne Place only had one or two rooms that were empty.

The end of the trail.

St. George turned out to be a nice little place.  They had an OLIVE GARDEN!! Even we don't have an Olive Garden at home (except in Laurel).  So we had dinner at Steve's favorite restaurant, one that offers a never ending salad bowl and breadsticks.  He was in heaven. 

Another thing to recommend St. George besides the Olive Garden.  Did you know that parts of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid were filmed in St. George.  I told you!  Totally cool city.

Day Six - Lake Powell to Bryce Canyon, UT (Aug. 1, 2013)

What to do?  What to do?  We could take out a speedboat and go cruising across the lake, wind in our hair, sea foam whipping around the boat, sea breezes tickling our noses, or we could take out kayaks and destroy our shoulder muscles to match our calves. What to do...

Getting ready to kayak

Kayaks it is!  Why be partially ambulatory when you can really go all out and head for Scooter City?  So we took out the kayaks.  The water temperature was absolutely amazing.  It felt really good when the paddle would come up and drip water onto my legs.  The clouds were out but we didn't think it would actually rain.  You could see the rain across the distance but it looked like it was heading away from us.  As we got comfortable on the kayaks we decided to row over to the small island across the lake and check out what looked like caves in the walls.

Heading to the caves, note the wonderful landscape

What were we thinking? 

You can't really see the caves on the picture above, but they are there.  It should give you an idea of how freaking far away we really were from the caves since you can't really even see them in this picture and they are right in the front of it.  Everything always looks closer than it is in this kind of landscape.  And speaking of landscape.  Or should I say MOONSCAPE or maybe DESERTSCAPE.  It was sand, rocks, sticker bushes, twig-like trees, sand, red ants, rocks, cacti, more sand, more rocks, and even some tumbleweeds thrown in for a laugh.  And what was I wearing?  Flip flops, of course.  Perfect for the sticker bushes.  They could hitchhike any time they wanted to on the side of my feet.  Insane.  Yes, the hiking was horizontal this time, but the plant life made it miserable.  Michael was having the same problem.  Steve was the only one wearing sneakers.  I was envious of his footwear choice.

Rock fight, anyone?

This better be worth it.  This rock cave or whatever.  This had better be the Golden City of El Dorado or the Lost City of Atlantis.  Stupid sticker bushes.  As we finally neared it, we saw that it was completely RIDDLED with scrawlings from other people.  The sandstone was very easy to etch into with rudimentary tools - sticks, rocks, pocket knives, and everyone had taken it upon themselves to leave their mark.  Some more mature than others, of course.

Speaking of mature, Michael and Steve had to have a rock fight.  Very mature.  This was to be an daily ritual at the various parks.  Such boys.

The cave was really not a cave at all since it went all the way through.  It was pretty neat, but not really worth the painful walk through searing heat and stickers.  Steve did get to put his own "mark" on the place, though.

Can you read the scrawl?

Like I said, very mature.  So after checking out the second cave, which actually was a cave (and therefore VERY boring since it wasn't even a deep cave) we headed back to the kayaks.  I really wish we'd spent more time kayaking and less time hiking through weeds, but it was what it was.  Again it took us quite a bit of time because of the terrain, the swearing, and the stopping to extract plant parts from various body parts.  We took the high road (literally) on the way back as far as we could running along the tops of the rock dunes until they ran out.   I also found that going barefoot was actually more comfortable and steadier than wearing shoes.  The dunes were that smooth.  It was pretty cool.   But they ended and then it was back to slogging through the brush.  The sun was up in full force at this point and my poor toes were starting to burn.  Oh, it was lovely.

Happy to be back afloat

So yes, we were happy to be back afloat again.   We paddled back across the lake and paddled a bit along the shore.  By then we'd been out for three hours and we were ready to head back to the dock.  I'm really not sure how much time was had kayaking and how much was had bushwhacking to the caves, but we felt we'd had enough and were ready to turn in our vessels and head out to Bryce Canyon-- the next adventure on our list of Western Adventures.  So we raced back to the dock (Michael won) and gave up our watercrafts.  Back to our waiting golf car(t) we go.  And on to Bryce.


Just as a side note:   Kayaking was a lot of fun and I'd like to try it again.  Strangely enough I was not sore in the slightest the next day.  Either the paddling didn't affect me or I was still in so much pain with my calves that any soreness suffered by my shoulders was to be ceremoniously overtaken by the calf pain. 

Dynamic Duo - Olympic Hopefuls for Rio 2016

Back to our story:  Before he headed to Bryce we had to change.  We were soaked from the kayak trip.  As I mentioned the water temperature was perfect so it wasn't uncomfortable but it would've been to drive that way.  In the restroom Steve happened to find an iPhone.  He called the "Mom" contact and left a message telling her where the phone would be and then turned it into the front desk.  Our Boy Scout moment of the day.

After we were changed, dry, and comfortable we went to the car and drove off.  I turned on my cell phone and just happened to check geocaches around the area.  Lo and behold, there was one only three miles away.  And we would get credit for Utah!  (At least I think we were in Utah.  We crossed the Arizona/Utah border so many times back and forth it was hard to keep track.)  We found it easily and logged it in.

The "Dub Taylor" Geocache

On our way to Bryce we stopped by Kanab for lunch.  Kanab is also known as Utah's "Little Hollywood" because of the number of movies and television shows that'd been filmed there or used for background shots.  It certainly has a very western/desert/wilderness air to it so it makes sense that movies would be filmed here for the scenery.  In fact, it is AMAZING to find out just how many were filmed all or in part in this town.  Stagecoach, The Lone Ranger, Gunsmoke, Daniel Boone, El Dorado, Planet of the Apes, The Outlaw Josey Wales, and over 100 other movies and television shows have been filmed here.  I find that absolutely amazing. I mean it's seriously just a little hole-in-the-wall town.  But apparently it made for an authentic background for these productions.

We ate at the Three Bears Creamery and had a delicious milkshake there.  I found another geocache right down the street from the restaurant and Michael and I sought it out.  It was located at this Hollywood marker (see above) down the street and the geocache was underneath it.  Pretty easy find.  I wish we could've spent more time getting some more of these Hollywood in Utah caches, but we were only going to get one night in Bryce so we wanted to get there as soon as possible.

Our cozy cabin

We made it to Bryce by 6:40 pm.  Our hotel here was also within the park which was the same as both the Grand Canyon and Lake Powell.  This one was a bit different in that it was more cabin that room, although, once inside, it was just a room with two double beds and a bathroom, but it was very cozy and even had a gas fireplace. 

The only hiccup?  The near fatal heart attack Michael had when he realized there was no TV and no Wifi.  Withdrawal is tough.  As it was he could no longer use his data download on his iPhone due to the fact that even though we have unlimited data, apparently when you are out of the AT&T network and have to rely on a partner network you actually are limited.  Seems that he'd already used 10 times the amount of data download that they allow with the partner network so they cut him off.  Cold turkey.  He still could use photo and text, but no data.  It was having a deleterious effect on him both mentally and physically.  The moaning was getting annoying.  So we decided to go to Sunrise Point to see the canyon before the sun set.  Hmm, maybe we should've gone to Sunset Point.  Oh well, too late.  Even though we were in the wrong "point" for the time of day, the view was spectacular.  Simply beautiful.

Seriously breathtaking

Wow.  I mean really wow.  The "hoodoos" as they call each column looked like drips of wet sand that had accumulated into a tower.  The ancient Indians thought they used to be people that turned to stone.  Silly natives.  Then, like a bolt of lightning, I had this great idea for a reality show.  I suggested they take a bunch of prisoners and put them in the bottom of the canyon.  If they made it out alive, they would earn their release.  Give them no food or water or any equipment.  Then I saw some people hiking, not realizing that the canyon could be hiked.  I mean LOOK at it!  So much for my goldmine of a series.  I was gonna call it "How Would You Do in the Hoodoo?"  Catchy, right?

So now that we realized we could hike down there, we decided to map out our route for the next day.  I didn't want anything TOO crazy.  I mean I didn't want to survive the Grand Canyon only to bite it in Bryce, you know?  My calves still weren't back to normal even though I'd been stretching them like rubber bands.

Not to generalize, but a group of Germans were here, too, at Sunrise Point, hogging the point view.  It was really starting to make me angry.  What the heck?  You don't see me going to Berlin and hogging the view of Alexanderplatz (I had to look that up on Google).  But you see what I'm getting at, right?  Sheesh!

After dinner at yet another pizzeria, we went back to the cabin and turned in.  The stars here were just as amazing as the Grand Canyon.   Spectacular.

Day Five - From the Grand Canyon to Lake Powell, UT (July 31, 2013)

I woke up.  I was sore, I was tired, I was miserable, I was in a black mood, and when I got up, I was walking funny because my calves were ruined for life, but nothing stops me from going souvenir shopping.  I made my way to the gift shop at the Bright Angel Lodge.  I actually went to the book store that was right on the rim to get the Death in the Canyon book.  Since I was almost their latest entry, I figured I wanted to see what could've (should've) killed me out there.

Then I went to the other shop in the Lodge itself and got a t-shirt, hat, socks, and a magnet.  Always got to get a magnet for the fridge.  They also had a special that if you spent over $50 you could get an Indian blanket for $25 so I got one of those, too.  I went back to the room to see if Steve and Michael were up.  Well, to see if Steve was up.  Michael rarely gets up voluntarily.  But they got ready and we went to the gift shop to browse again, checked out, and started our drive to Lake Powell.

We had decided to take our time getting there and not to rush too quickly from the Grand Canyon.  We stopped at quite a few of the lookouts including Navajo, Yavapai and Desert Tower Points.  We all agreed that Navajo point was the most beautiful.  Even over Lookout Point at Bright Angel. 

 

So what do you think? Nice, right?

Desert Tower

Okay, this is where the Europeans really started to annoy me.  There were these two VERY large and obnoxious Germans (ugly Americans, huh?) who were standing at the end of the point overlooking the canyon and WOULD NOT MOVE.  They were just jabbering on in German to each other. I must've waited there for ten minutes for them to take in their fill and MOVE ON.  They did not.  Steve said, "Come on, let's go to the tower" and I said very loudly, "I'm trying to get a picture from the point but NO ONE WILL MOVE."  Well, this American (who also had been there awhile) said, "Oh, sorry, it's just so beautiful.  Great view, huh?" And moved away.  I got my shots while the two sausage fed Europeans continued to hog their spot on the point.  How do you say, "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY" in German?

From Desert Point -- standing next to the Germans who never did move.

We walked up the tower, but the views were all behind glass.  You could not go out on the top.  Meh.  Nothing too great.

From there we moved on to Lake Powell.  We got there after 4.  The lake really was quite beautiful.

The houseboat capital of the world.

And the water was a perfect temperature.  Just perfect.  We decided not to waste any time since we only had one night here.  We took the 6:15 pm Antelope Canyon boat ride.  Since my calves were completely destroyed and would most probably have to be rebuilt from scratch and surgically implanted back into my legs, walking was quite the adventure the day after the canyon excursion. But a boat ride!  How perfect.  A leisurely boat journey on a placid lake.  That was just a perfect antidote to my sore, shredded legs.

Okay, WHAT THE HELL??  The boat was not moored right outside the door of the lodge, as I first imagined.  No.  It was DOWN (yes, DOWN) a 1/3 mile ramp DOWNHILL all the way to the boat.  DOWN.  As in using my calves to WALK DOWNHILL.  I was in mortal agony.  I was also the very last person to board the boat.  I walked as though I had a disability.  Which, I guess I did at the time.  And as such we missed our opportunity for seats on the upper deck.  Except for those seats that were FACING everyone else.  Like we had an audience.  And in the physical state I was in I felt like the Elephant Man.  I am not an animal!  I was not pleased.  My legs and my mood were matching, both were on very shaky ground.

Okay, I have to admit the boat ride was very relaxing.  The temperature was perfect.  The views were gorgeous and the sunset was spectacular.

Yeah.  It was that nice.  Okay, that alleviated SOME of the pain, but not all.  After all, once we disembarked I then had to walk the 1/3 mile BACK to the lodge.  But uphill was MUCH less painful than downhill so I wasn't the last one back.  That put a smiley face right back on me.

We went to the pizzeria which was part of the Lake Powell complex and pretty good pizza for dinner.  The stars here were not in abundance like the Grand Canyon.  Rather disappointing, actually. 

Tomorrow we do something water related since we are at Lake Powell!  What shall it be??

Day Four - THE CANYON (July 30, 2013)

A Date Which Will Live in Infamy - no, not Pearl Harbor, but rather...

The Day I Hiked The Canyon

We woke up and prepared.  No make up.  Hat.  Sunglasses.  Cool clothing (or so I thought).  Hiking shoes.  Two pair of socks.  Trail mix.  More trail mix.  Even more trail mix.  Water in my Camelback.  Gatorade.   Camera.  iPhone.  First aid kit.  Water, more water, even more water.   And maybe even some more water.  iPod to listen to stuff.  Sunscreen.  Bible (no, not the Bible, but looking back...)

Happy confident trio ready to risk life and limb on the trail.

Anyway,  I was all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and raring to go.  Boy was I whacked.   Okay, watches synchronized.  Fitbit on. 

And we're off!

Altitude at the rim - 6860 ft.  Temperature?  Probably around 85.  Comfortable.

The Bright Angel Trailhead is located right next to the Kolb Studio which is RIGHT on the rim.  See pic.  This would be the thing that we saw on the way down and the thing that we would see on our way back up.  If we made it.  Up.  Or from the door of the helicopter as it ferried our battered, dehydrated bodies up from the canyon floor.

Trail starts behind this place

Impressions:  The trail is steep.  It's rocky.  It has "steps" fashioned from logs in places.  Not all the way, and in no particular pattern so you had to keep your wits about you.  The trail isn't exactly RIGHT on the edge, but if you tripped you could definitely fall and kill yourself.  So there was that.

And it was downhill.  On a slant.  The ENTIRE WAY.  You think you've hiked around San Francisco and you're an expert on hills?  HAH!  I say.  HAH HAH HAH!  I've been to S.F.  Yes, there are hills.  But they don't go on for 4.6 miles CONSTANTLY DOWNHILL. San Francisco is equivalent the Bonneville Salt Flats next to this downhill trek!

Jacob's Ladder on Bright Angel Trail

So down, down, down we went.  Serpentine trails sprinkled throughout.  Some were long and some short switch-backing (yes, I made that up) without any rhyme or reason.  There is an area called Jacob's Ladder on the trail past the Three Mile Resthouse where the trail descends even more steeply (is that possible?). At this point I'm told the grade is at 14.85%. Not the steepest grade on the trail, but one of the longest.  It went on FOREVER.  Not only is the grade steep and unrelenting, but it's often in full sun which equates this to the Bataan death march. Keep in the back of your mind that this was on the way down.  I didn't even consider what it would be like on the way back up.  Survival for me at this point was just getting to the bottom.  

He IS on his Hoveround!  You just can't
see it under all the layers of squirrel fat.

At the first rest stop my legs were already shaking from the steep grade of the constant downhill walking.  We stopped here and took our necessary rest.  Both in the room of the same name and in the covered sitting area that had benches for the weary hikers.  So by this time it was probably 9:30 or 10 am.  We spent maybe 15 or 20 minutes resting up, getting water, feeding the squirrels.  Yes, we did, dammit.  I don't care that there were signs not to.  I don't care that the National Park system has declared feeding squirrels to be a horror equivalent to hunting humans in the canyon.  I don't care that the squirrels are so fat that they are on Hoverounds in order to move.  They are cute.  They are furry.  They are basically tame, and I wanted a close-up picture of them.  After all, it's all about me.  At least on this day when my imminent death was staring me in the face.  I wanted my last memory on this earth to be of joy and happiness. What is happier than an obese squirrel-- cheeks bloated with handfuls of trail mix, spittle flying as he greedily shoves more in?  Nothing!

My shoes

Product placement ad:  I have to stop here and compliment Reebok.  On my hike I was wearing my new pair of Reebok One Cushion shoe.  I bought them specifically for the trip and I had broken them in on various walks I'd taken over the weeks before the trip trying to acclimatize me to the heat we would be experiencing in the canyon (yeah, that part was a joke).  But the shoes?  They were a miracle.  Firm and cushioned in the heel keeping the back of my foot stable, and a cooling web in the front of the foot that let air in and didn't squeeze my toes.  And in a snappy little color to boot. They were absolutely amazing.  So much so that when I got home I wrote a review of them on Reebok.  Nary a blister or a sore spot on either foot after my 9.2 mile trek.  Oh, everywhere else on my body was a total MESS, mind you, but my feet were perfect.  LOVE THESE SHOES!

Back to our regularly scheduled hike.  We passed some National Park Service workers on the trail near the Three Mile Rest stop with their mules which are used to haul equipment up and down.  They were working on the trail (the men not the mules).  Yes, we were STILL on the downhill and it was STILL steep.  My calves were now begging me to put them of their misery. No such luck. I would need them on the return trip.  If I could muster up the energy for it.  More freakin' trail mix, anyone?

We are now beyond the second rest stop and there is nothing but downhill switchbacks until we get to Indian Gardens.  Steve kept promising that we were almost to the flat part. We weren't.  You see THERE IS NO FLAT PART.  Not until you get to Indian Gardens and the grove of cottonwood trees.  NO FLAT.  NONE.  It is a constant downhill barrage of pain and anguish.  Of overwhelming thirst.  Of stomachs filled with acid and sloshing water.  Of hips hot and tender to the touch.  Of calves bleeding internally from shredded muscles.  

Newly updated warning sign for the Grand Canyon circa July 2013

Altitude at bottom:  2480 ft.  We've descended 4,380 feet.  Temperature:  Well over 100 in the full sun.

Indian Gardens!  What an oasis to behold!!  We made it!  Okay, I MADE IT!  There was no doubt that Steve and Michael would make it, but I MADE IT!  Huzzah!  Saints be praised!  I plunked down onto a bench and decided that I would stay until I felt rested and ready to go!  Seeing as how I'm not still there, this did not happen.  We stayed for about 50 minutes at the bottom of the canyon to rest.  I was so exhausted I couldn't get up the energy to use the rest room (yeah, like I had any liquid left in my body).  I shoved some more trail mix down my gullet and chased it with some water.  And then some more water.  I was tired, hot, achy, thirsty, and I think my kidneys had already shut down.  At this point to combat the heat I started pouring water over my head and neck.  It was THAT hot.  I didn't give a crap what I looked like.  Obviously.  See image below.

At Indian Gardens--after the hike down.  If anyone wanted that water bottle
I was holding they were going to have to pry it out of my hot, dead hands.

My eyes were glazing over as Steve gently suggested that perhaps we needed to start back.  It was about 1:00 in the afternoon and the heat of the day was in full throttle.  The thermometer at the canyon bottom read 95 BUT the sign next to it said that temperatures were usually up to twenty degrees hotter than what the thermometer was registering.  In other words, it was Africa hot.

I looked at him as if he'd suggested that it was time for me to pull out my revolver and shoot myself in the head.  Actually that might've been what he did say.  I'm just not sure.  Or truly, what he was saying to me was EQUIVALENT to saying just pull out a gun and shoot yourself.  Leave the canyon floor?  To do what?  Die on the trail next to some morbidly obese squirrel who'd frisk me for my trail mix?

I wasn't ready.  But then again, even if I'd waited two more weeks I don't think I would've been ready to move.  Oh p.s. for God's sake, don't wear JEAN shorts when you hike the canyon (Mistake #4).  Who does that?  Besides me?  JEANS??  Shorts or not, they are FREAKING hot.  I should've worn less dense fabric shorts.  But now was not the time to rethink my fashion choice.  What's done was done.  

And so we start the long trudge back to civilization.  By the time we get to the three mile stop (meaning from the top, so we've gone about 1.6 miles uphill) I'm searching my gear for the cyanide tablets I'm sure will be in the first aid kit.  My legs were shaking like jello.  My stomach was hurting.  Water didn't seem to be helping me.  There was no shade anywhere.  The next 1.1 miles to the first rest stop I may have been delirious.  All I can remember is saying to myself, "I can't do it.  I can't do it.  I can't do it."  As I trudged on step by step.  By the time we reached the first rest stop, I was in full denial.  I couldn't eat.  I couldn't use the rest room.  I drank and splashed water on myself.  All thoughts were on survival now.  I searched the faces of the other hikers at the shelter.  Who could I take out?  What weapons did they have?  Who had food?  Who had the plans to defuse the bomb?  I told you I was delirious.  Steve looked at me strangely and said, "Are you okay?"  Who was this guy?  Who's the tall kid with him?  Do I know them?  Why are they talking to me?

From the top looking down on the trail

1.9 miles to go.  One foot gets planted.  The other is dragged painfully forward.  Plant.  Shift weight, drag foot, plant, shift weight, repeat--for another 10,000 steps.  Michael and Steve were way ahead.  Every now and again they would stop and sit, waiting for me to catch up.  As soon as I did they would get up and start moving again.  I realize that they were just helping to keep me moving, but you will also notice that they got a lot more rests than I did.  I just kept moving, like a shark, or a snail.  Leaving a foot-dragging trail behind me.

The switchbacks were downright cruel.  Every time you'd head for the end, you thought maybe you were almost there when the trail would switchback again in the opposite direction.  It was grueling.

I could recount each dragging step along the way, making you feel as hopeless and helpless as I felt, but why extend the misery I experienced with my readers?  Suffice to say, it was a VERY LONG four hour trek back to the top.  There was only one moment when I contemplated a felonious assault.  About 1 1/2 miles from the top, as I as huffing and puffing my way towards paradise like the Little Engine that Maybe Could But Maybe Not Depending On Whether or Not Her Water Holds Out, this stick-like praying mantis of a creature comes strutting by DOWNHILL and says, "Wow!  Tough hike, huh?"  I just looked at her standing there glistening in the sun, all Barbie-fied.  I dismissed her but then I figured maybe I could use her for information so I said, "How much farther?"  She smirked and said, "Oh you've got a LONG way to go!"

I ask you.  If I had grabbed a hunk of her blonde hair and dragged her over the edge of the canyon and you were on the jury, would you have acquitted me?  Yeah, I thought so.  So shoulda done it.

After the hike.  At the top. 

TRUMPETS BLARE!  FANFARE ABOUNDS!!  TICKER TAPE PARADE!!  I see Kolb Studio and the trailhead just above us.  I have never in my life been so relieved.  Just seeing that building gave me the incentive to put some much needed spring in my step to get me to the top.  Well, maybe not spring, but a little less dragging.  I know I could not have gone any farther.  Not one step.  My legs were reduced from jello to consomme.  Just pure liquid encased in skin.  Why there wasn't a parade and a general announcement when we made it back I'll never know.  That's how you feel when you make it back.  You think the New York Times should be interviewing you about your harrowing journey.  But no, other people are coming and going.  Tourists are walking along the rim taking pictures.  You just want to shout, DO YOU KNOW WHAT I JUST DID??  But you don't.  You collect yourself, brush off the red dust from the canyon, and limp back to your hotel room, head held high in the knowledge that you, YOU BEAT THE CANYON.  It did NOT beat you.

Stats from my Fitbit:

253 flights of stairs climbed (it measures altitute)
2797 calories burned (we had milkshakes afterwards)
31,622 steps taken
13.4 miles walked(total for the day)

Two more things to report from today.  We saw elk on the lawn in front of our hotel room.  They are NASTY creatures.  If you made eye contact they would charge you.  One woman ran screaming as she passed them and they came after her.  The Park Ranger was yelling at people to stay away from them.  She was pretty pissed that people weren't taking her or them seriously. Those freaking things are as big as horses!  

Nasty elk

The star-gazing here is ridiculous.  By that I mean, it is AMAZING.  But the number of stars you can see is just RIDICULOUS!  I was in awe.  I could've watched for hours, but one of those damn elk showed up and Steve and I ran!  They are not to be messed with, nasty stinkers.

Bed time.  Thank God.  Oh, yeah, and thanks God for not letting me die in the Canyon.  Very swell of you.