USA Part Three – A photo diary – Nevada – Utah – Arizona

I had never really thought of visiting these three states. Las Vegas had never really held much appeal. I had seen depravity and debauchery up close in Manila a few times and was doubtful that Vegas could come close, in extremes of human behaviour or reasonable beer prices. Apart from vague references in films – Raising Arizona? The guy cutting off his own arm somewhere in Utah? – I was pretty much ignorant of the location, culture and landscape of this part of the USA.  At home, we have all been exposed to names of countless American places in movies and on TV, but most of us are pretty ignorant of exactly where these places are. When planning my trip, I decided to do an organised group tour for 4-5 days, as I had only ever done one previously. I booked it a few months in advance and forgot all about it, just happy not to have to do any planning for at least one week of the holiday. It was to be the last week of six in the country – the Western USA National Parks loop. 

We left from Las Vegas on a Monday morning. There were twelve in the group and a guide. At our first meeting, I was grateful to find out that it was a nice mix of people from different countries. People from the USA, UK, Australia, Portugal and Kuwait. And apart from one couple, everyone else was travelling solo. 

We drove towards Zion National Park in Utah, stopping in the small city of St George on the way for lunch. Always a bit awkward at first being thrown together with a group of total strangers. We stopped regularly for photos as we crossed from Nevada to Arizona to Utah, filing in and out of the mini-van. Much polite chat. It was a brisk, clear day.

The drive was through a mainly desolate landscape. As we got closer to the national park, we were surrounded by steep rock cliff faces. 

We arrived at Zion National Park in the early afternoon, took the shuttle bus and started walking. I was feeling quite fit after doing a fair bit of walking the week before, so myself and another group member (the other Australian, Mitch), decided to take on a steeper climb, up towards Angel’s Landing. Not the coolest name, but a fairly tough and dangerous ascent, made famous by certain Instagram pics in the last few years. We didn’t have the required permit to go all the way to the top and conveniently used that excuse to stop halfway when the path became a bit sketchy. 

Here are some pics from Zion and surrounds. I had visited the week before also.

Rather than go to the top of Angel’s Landing, we walked another hour or so on a path along the top of the cliffs, seeing fewer and fewer other tourists. The rest of the tour group was walking in another part of the park, but we had a few more hours of sunlight and kept moving, assuring each other of our fitness and lack of fatigue. We took the opportunity to share our Aussie perspective of our brief time in the USA, in between typical chat about footy, the Voice referendum, cricket, long-distance running, Queensland politics and life at home in general. I had barely thought about Australian football during my trip but was now sadly reminded of Melbourne’s finals failures. My trip had started the week after their elimination, and Mitch’s had started the week after his team’s heartbreaking Grand Final loss. 

Mitch seemed to have been to every big city in the country in his month in the States, putting my slower travelling pace to shame. A marathon in Chicago, a Grand Prix in Austin, travel in Texas, and numerous other places made for some great stories. At one stage we decided we should start heading down, to find the main road and jump on the shuttle bus to meet up with the group. We descended the back side of the mountain, confident that this path would likely lead to the main road. Luckily we came across one other walker, who advised us that the path we were on would not take us back to the shuttle bus. That quick question likely saved us a couple of hours and some humiliation in front of our new friends. We walked back the way we came and took the path down at speed as the shadows lengthened and the temperature dropped rapidly. We missed our rendezvous with the group and started walking out of the park towards our accommodation and a huge, American-sized dinner.

Day 2

On day two, 31st October, we were up early for hotel breakfast. For the third time on the trip I faced the prospect of powdered scrambled eggs on plastic plates, and this time I resisted, and even avoided the hotel coffee. We had a long drive ahead towards Bryce Canyon. As we passed between Utah and Arizona and back to Utah (I think), we crossed time zones. Much confusion as to what time it actually was. Here are some pics of Bryce Canyon and the feature attraction – the ‘hoodies’.

After Bryce Canyon, we had another long drive to the small city of Page, Arizona, where we found a well-earned cold beer and a huge Mexican meal close to our hotel. By this stage, most members of the group had got to know each other and there was a developing team spirit. Our tireless guide Judd had racked up some serious hours driving in the first couple of days but was ever-patient answering questions about what we had seen, what we would see, and this part of America in general. The longest day of driving was apparently over and we could have a few drinks knowing that the third day would involve a sleep-in and that we would be staying two nights in Page.  

Day 3

After a slow start, we drove towards Antelope Canyon. We had a Navajo guide, Brent, take us through the canyon, give us a brief history and show us where and how to take great pictures. Apparently, some common screensavers are pictures of this place.  Here’s how it looks.

The canyon is almost hidden from view from the surface, and down below it widens and narrows, darkens and brightens as the sun finds its way through the cracks. On a cold, blue-sky day, surrounded by red dirt, the concept of rainfall is abstract, yet there are warnings of flash floods. They say that storms sweep across the mesas, flooding the landscape in minutes. In 1997, 12 tourists were down in the canyon when a flash flood appeared and drowned all of them but one. 

Brent gave us some brief indigenous history. Many years ago, in the 1860s, thousands of natives from the Navajo tribe were forced to leave, to move across the country to a reservation in New Mexico. About a third of them died on the walk, but some found a way to return, and used the canyon as a hiding place from the authorities. 

We left the Canyon, suitably awed, and had lunch at a random, brilliant highway restaurant outside of Page. Our guide had some invaluable local knowledge, and in this culinary desert, he had located an oasis (with vegan options no less). The group was keen to discover what further destinations were in store. This traveller had conducted sparse research, to the point that every new stop was a complete surprise. 

We visited Glen Canyon Dam. This massive engineering feat, providing electricity to people in multiple states, put Page on the map. 6000 workers had moved there to work on its construction, and so Page grew to become a city.  

That afternoon we went to Horseshoe Bend. Another epic, photogenic natural masterpiece. 

We had dinner that Wednesday night at the local brewery, everyone increasingly excited at the midpoint of the tour. Tomorrow was supposed to be the best day of the lot. The brewery was packed with baseball fans and screens on every wall, as the Arizona Diamondbacks went down in the World Series. Mitch and I were consuming sports information by watching NBA games at nights and by quizzing Judd in the car, and seemingly by osmosis as well . Our tour guide was a fountain of knowledge about the tour, local landmarks and history, but he was also a deep, dedicated sports fan, happy to share detailed, incomprehensible analysis about a sport (‘football’ of course) that we barely understood. 

Day 4

We were up at 6 am for another long drive, this time to Monument Valley back in Utah. This was the most impressive part of a supremely visually stunning five days. I’m hopeless at describing landscape, but my notes said ‘wide open spaces, desert punctuated by huge rock formations of different shapes and sizes.’ I’ll let the pictures do the talking. 

At Monument Valley we had an amazing Navajo guide called Jamie. Apart from providing ongoing humour and information and driving us around, he also sang for us, played his flute, and launched echoes off the great walls. He told us about the movies and film clips made there. Metallica, Bon Jovi, Easy Rider, Forrest Gump etc. 

At one stage we stopped at the hut of Jamie’s grandmother. It was a freezing day, and the hut was calm and warm, so that the 20-30 minutes that she spoke to us were beautiful. She explained certain Navajo knitting processes, talked about their lifestyle there, growing up and living in this spectacular but inhospitable place. Her comments about the world in general, in her warm, silent haven where one could drift away and ignore life outside, were generous and inspirational. ‘We are one people, we have so much in common’, she said. Yet the world is divided as ever, with no real signs of unity ahead. It’s easy to feel unity and solidarity on a trip, in a place like this, away from work, life, conflict, with a great group of like-minded people. But she could say it, despite her people being marginalised, subjugated and almost eliminated. That little hut showed the slow side of life, warmth in a pretty cold world. 

We had Navajo Tacos outside surrounded by the huge monuments, and then made the long drive towards the Grand Canyon. We made it there by sunset. There was a smokey, hazy mist over the canyon as the sun went down slowly. 

Everyone was pretty exhausted by this point, with the cold, the long drives and long chats in the car and the early starts. A group of us had dinner at a steak house in the little town near the Grand Canyon.

Day 5

We were up at 6 again for sunrise. What a beautifully planned end to the tour. Quite busy there but can only imagine how packed it would be during peak summer. None of the tourist attractions we visited were overcrowded, so early November might be the month to tour this part of the country. A few sunrise pics. 

We drove ten minutes to Bright Angel Trailhead and had an hour or so to head down into the canyon and back up. Mitch and I were still feeling pretty fit and went hard down into the canyon. It was almost empty this early and we talked about how people do the rim-to-rim walk. The temperature was close to freezing up the top, but as one gets moving and the sun starts to come out, the heat gets trapped in the canyon and it can become brutally hot. We didn’t find out how hot, but Judd told us stories about how many people get into trouble attempting overly difficult hikes. We shed 2-3 layers in an hour and headed back up at full speed. 

We had a huge breakfast and were back on the road towards Vegas. We drove along Route 66, stopping at various landmarks along the way. The whole group was in a great, almost giddy mood. Amazing team spirit by this stage. Everyone satisfied with an amazing week, exhausted, excited to have a few days to chill, and in many cases pleasantly surprised to have made such great friends during the week. These types of 4-5 day intense activities can be a great surprise. Think of 4-5 days of ordinary life. No one new really met. Nothing new seen or happened. And then, suddenly, 7-8 instant, close friends, albeit for a brief time. Long chats in the car about all sorts of random topics and a natural group dynamic. 

We stopped for some more pics of signs on Route 66, and wandered around some great little towns dedicated to the highway and the road trip way of life. 

The last stop on the tour in a town called Kingman on the long road back to Vegas was a classic old-fashioned roadside diner. Everything you ever expected after you watched all those movies. Finally a super friendly waitress in her uniform, and a full menu of massive (a 4-pound burger anyone?), tasty American meals. Some brave types might have ordered a sundae also. Finally, as we sat innocently chatting, a bloke walked past, his pistol in its holster on his waistband. A nice little detail for a group of us outsiders who only ever heard of the gun culture and open carry laws. 

Last few tired hours in the van. Five days passed pretty quickly. Had a great chat with some people in the group that I hadn’t talked to much. Jim, a top bloke from New Jersey, now retired and resisting the RV life for the moment. Inspiring to see him and his wife Felicity taking a trip and mixing with a (slightly) younger crowd, half of us from other countries. Much hilarious chat with Megan from Wisconsin about various topics (Costner, Stand by Me, dying at 27, Bill Murray etc). Often the foreigners amongst us knew more about American movies and TV than the locals. I suppose Americans don’t often mix with foreigners like me who relentlessly make fun of America. And when they do, they can get annoyed or laugh along at the absurdity of it all.

We got back to Vegas, and went our separate ways, most of us happy to sit alone for a few hours and reflect. That was five spectacular days in Nevada, Utah and Arizona.