Howdy everyone, hope your October is going as swimmingly as mine. I know it’s been a while since I posted, but I have been distracted the last few weeks by matters of a personal nature and as it turns out, by the time I came to my traditional Thursday blog writing window, I was either too mentally drained to put pen to paper (yeah I know, not a thing) or found myself trapped in a meeting with literally at least 300 people all wanting my head on a platter (don’t ever volunteer for a community board – life hack of the year).
At any rate, I am back now and hope that the break has been as beneficial and battery-charging for you as it was for me.
Personally, it’s kind of embarrassing when it’s only October and you need a break already, especially after a relaxing summer, but life has a tendency to pile up on you in unexpected ways.
Speaking of which, one of the reasons I missed a week is actually the best kind of reason – the opportunity to hand with one of my kids for three straight days.
As some of you may know from a prior blog, I have a vehicle. We will call it “money-pit”. At any rate, Money Pit resides most of the year in Phoenix but every year I will fly down to Phoenix and drive the car to Calgary to get Canadian dollar priced maintenance and enjoy driving it all summer (Money Pit is a convertible). Then, as summer comes to an end, usually around Thanksgiving, I will drop myself into the Money Pit and drive it back to Phoenix while my family flies down without me and we reconnect there for a long weekend.
It’s a great drive that takes me through four states and one province – Arizona, Utah, Idaho, Montana and Alberta. 2200 kms of interstate, back road, weird touristy stops. Three days of driving, Just me, the car, the open road and, weather permitting, the top down. Super-weird Spotify playlists and Sirius XM sports talk radio, mainly Stephen A. Simth are the only company I usually have along the way.
Which of course my wide thinks is utterly bonkers and boring and all my guy friends get all dreamy eyed and weepy and say “three days on the road, by yourself? That’s AWESOME!!!!”.
Except this year. This year we have lemons. Lemons in the form of a province-wide teacher’s strike/lockout/standoff chaos of horribleness. And my youngest, first semester Grade 12 is in the middle of it.
So I thought to myself – why not make Lemonade? And I asked her if she wanted to come and spend 3 days in the car with dear old dad and to my complete surprise, she said yes. One re-arranged flight (someone at westjet actually answered!) and two sleeps later we were on our way, an early-morning departure for the journey of a lifetime!
The route down to Phoenix starts fairly pedantically but, in my opinion, gets better with each passing mile with only two sections presenting themselves as excruciating. The first being the unending flatlands between Calgary and the Coutts Border Crossing (but before the most excellent rest area in Sweetgrass) and the final
Lethbridge was the first major destination on the drive, reached after two hours or so of driving in a series of straight grid lines, the monotony interrupted only by intense moments of acceleration passing trucks and slow-moving farm vehicles. I’m sure there are more notable parts of Lethbridge but on the highway the most notable part is the railroad bridge. The rest is industrial/commercial wasteland and an inexplicable level crossing – build a bridge! And maybe a bypass.
The next stop of course is the border at Coutts. No protests there anymore – not even sure where they were to begin with. This border crossing is the busiest in Alberta and when we pulled up it was brought home pretty quick that Canadians aren’t crossing the border as much – we were the only passenger vehicle. The inquisition at the border wasn’t too intense – where you going? This your car? Any fruit or guns? How much cash are you carrying? All normal course stuff but I was a bit worried that after I explained to Lucy that you couldn’t carry more than $10k across the border due to money-laundering concerns she made a note on her phone.
Once into Montana, the drive changes. First stop of course is the Sweetgrass rest stop which is always a treat after 3 hours in the car. What do I mean by that? Well, a segue. When you are on the road for long periods of time you have few requests except regular access to food, fuel and clean bathrooms. And there is nothing Americans do better than that and stop one is the Sweetgrass rest stop which is always pristine and clean.
The next major landmark along the way is Great Falls (McDonalds and gas) and the headwaters of the Missouri River which meanders all through Montana and parallels I-15 for a long stretch between Great Falls and Helena – the state capital. This is some of the most scenic parts of the Montana drive and we were able to see dozens of people fishing both out of boats and fly fishing. Passing through Tower Rock State Park and the Gates of the Mountains it is easy to see where the inspiration for “A River Runs Through It” came from. Lucy was intrigued that the water we were driving by would eventually make its way all the south to the Mississippi Delta and ultimate the Gulf of Whatever its called now.
My favourite town in Montana will always be Craig, because I know a guy named Craig. Craig is a hamlet of like four houses and a honky-tonk. I feel like we should just buy it.
Lucy’s favourite town in Montana it turns out is neither Craig, nor Helena, the state capital.
Nope, it’s Butte.
Heh heh butt.
No Lucy, it’s pronounced Bee—ute. Nope, it’s Butt. I wonder how many of those signs get stolen every year? I would totally steal one.
Fine then, Butt. Which gets its name because it is built on and below a Butte. Claim to fame? Many, but for someone just ripping though there is the Berkeley Pit, which was a massive copper mine and is now filled with water and Our Lady of the Rockies, a 90 ft statue of a (I am told) non-denominational woman perched high above the town on the Continental Divide. This statue was built in the 1970’s by a local man to honour his wife surviving cancer. Which now that I know this is way cooler than I originally thought. Oh, and Rupert Murdoch’s mega ranch is somewhere near Butte-butt.
The end of Day one saw us leave Montana and blast through a bunch of Idaho to our destination of Idaho Falls and the Fairfield Inn and Suites, selected because of its proximity to both the highway and walkable to two iconic restaurants – Olive Garden and Longhorn Steakhouse. After a long drive, both if us were starving and opted for, big surprise, steak over unlimited soup and salad.
The best part of any voyage with a kid is that they get to find out things about you they never knew (and vice-versa, but those are her secrets so I can’t share). And imagine Lucy’s surprise to find out that I have an untreatable condition called Yankee-itis. That’s correct, I despise the Yankees in all their incarnations. I don’t know if that is because the Red Sox have always been my AL East team (sorry Blue Jays) or that my disillusionment with baseball sewering the Expos has resulted in my hating the most prominent franchise left or if I’m just fed up with Americans saying the Yankees are the best and winningest franchise in sports when the Canadiens exist. No matter – Yankees – hate those guys and it was nice to watch them get eliminated while eating steak and Idaho potatoes with my kind on a road trip in Idaho Falls with my kid. Fist Bump.
Before turning in for the night we facetime’d my wife to catch up on the day and Lucy revealed to her that “she was completely exhausted” which was surprising for a passenger that looked out the window all day but was explained to us with the following statement:
“He talks… All. The. Time.”
Hmm, it’s working…
The next day dawned and we were up bright and early because we wanted to get past Salt Lake City before lunch for one of the highlights of the drive – ditching the interstate for Route 89 from Spanish Fork to Kanab Utah. Top down country drive excellence!
A quick stop at McDonalds (sensing a theme here) for breakfast and we were on our way, making excellent time through the high elevation prairie that is Idaho. Vast empty spaces, giant mountains, many already sporting snowcaps. We also passed by mile marker 31 which was the site of my infamous flat tire just south of Pocatello a few years prior – ah memories…
Approaching Utah, the traffic begins to pick up until you are suddenly confronted head on by the insanity that is the Salt Lake “unicity”. The stretch from Tremonton to Provo Utah, with Salt Lake in the middle, is 100+ miles of often bumper to bumper traffic comprising what I sometimes think is the entire population of Utah driving an 8-lane superhighway trapped between giant mountains to the east and a great salt lake to the West. Hit it at the wrong time and it can take three hours.
We were fortunate that the traffic was just manic and not immobile and made it through pretty easily enjoying our peekaboo views of downtown Salt Lake on the east side and the sprawling refinery complexes on the west side. Yes, Salt Lake is home to some serious refining capacity.
We made the bizarrely named town of Spanish Fork right at lunch time and hit up the Love’s Travel Centre (the best… so clean) and opted for McDonald’s road lunch (ahem) and then ditched the interstate for a blissful top-down drive through the idyllic Utah version of rural America.
Except our plans were foiled. Looking south we quickly realized that the dark clouds might signify something sinister and the winds that kicked up around us were probably not the most conducive to open air cruising.
Regardless, this is an amazingly scenic and bucolic country drive – twisting and turning roads through breathtaking mountain passes and long stretches of fertile valley and farmland with quaint towns popping up every 20-30 miles that all seemed to have well-maintained and historic downtowns, at least two LDS churches, the occasional temple and, oddly, a disproportionate amount of taquerias. I suppose this is all indicative of the demographic make-up of these rural and agriculture oriented towns.
One thing that both of us noted as we drove through the towns was the amount of elaborate Halloween decorations we saw, on both residential and commercial properties and in at least one town on city owned lampposts and property. Is there something we don’t know about the Mormon Church and Halloween? Decorations were everywhere and they were really well done.
We were about two thirds of the way through the drive – near Panguitch when we started getting hit by rain storm after rain storm. Little mini cells that were bouncing over the mountains and racing through the valleys. A bit disconcerting, but the top was up and I replaced the headlights a year ago.
Added bonus – the windshield and grill got all the bugs cleaned off, saving me $50 in detailing.
The sporadic rain continued all the way into Page Arizona and Lake Powell which we unfortunately didn’t get to see due to rain and sunset.
We stayed at a Super 8. It was anything but super. That is all I will say.
Dragged ourselves out to dinner (not New York Teriyaki – opted for wings) and upon leaving the restaurant found ourselves in the biggest deluge I have ever seen in Arizona – understand that Page is basically in the middle of the desert.
Made it back to the hotel soaking wet but pumped for the next day’s adventure – the Grand Canyon.
Quick Facetime – “Mom – I’m still tired and he keeps talking. He just won’t stop talking…”
The next day was supposed to be the “piece de resistance” – an early morning drive to the Grand Canyon via the east gate and then a madcap dash to Phoenix.
Except for the rain, everything worked out fine.
Something everyone should know about the drive out of Page – it is spectacular, you drop close to 3000 feet and then climb back again into the Grand Canyon – canyons, bluffs, death defying road drops. The Little Colorado Canyon on the north side of the road. And it is almost always blue-bird sunshine. Except for this particular day.
Making our way through rain we dropped from Page and drove to Cameron where we turned onto the largely bereft of vehicles road to the Canyon Gate. And started the climb to 7500 feet above sea level. At about 6000 we entered “The Cloud” and were in that for the next 30 or so miles of twisty, climbing mountain road, culminating at the gate to the Park. $35 a vehicle!
“Yeah, you don’t have to pay” said the ranger. “Nothing to see today”.
And she was right. But that nothing was awesome. Our first stop on what is the most scenic drive in America (viewpoint central) was where a lookout tower is supposed to be. We couldn’t see it. All we could see was the ground we were standing on and then a giant blob of white cloud.
We skipped the second viewpoint and pulled into the third. This one was a bit more promising as it was the trailhead for one of the canyon descents. While standing at the edge, the wind blew the cloud apart and we saw, for the briefest of moments, a canyon. A quick 10 minute walk below the rim on the trail gave us silence, a slight view and a semblance of what could be. Lu said it was OK and that she was afraid of heights anyway, but I could sense her disappointment.
Our luck changed as we headed further towards the Village even though it seemed the odds of a true canyon viewing were low.
First we finally saw some actual living wildlife as a family of elk wandered across the road in front of us, then as we were driving up to the trailhead for the South Kaibab Trail and I was waxing poetic about how that was where I started my backpacking trip in February of 2020 two things happened: 1) the clouds parted and 2) a parking spot appeared.
I slammed the car into the parking spot and we jumped out and right beside us was the Grand Canyon in all its splendour. We couldn’t see all the way down to the Colorado because the angle wasn’t right, but we could see in the distance the Lookout point where we had our last supper on my hike. The Canyon always leaves me at a loss for words and I believe Lucy was suitably impressed.
Mission accomplished.
We were of course still four hours out of Phoenix so we couldn’t dilly-dally, so back in the car we went.
We took the back road past the Arizona Snow Bowl and through Flagstaff (no Eddie Tennison sighting) before cutting directly south on my favourite bit of road – the 89A through Oak Creek Canyon to Sedona where we searched for the Golden Arches for lunch before realizing that by town ordinance, no yellow is allowed and they are in fact the “blue arches” there. Same food though.
Not wanting to lose momentum we cut back over to the Interstate where we joined the Death Race 2025, three lanes of 85 mph survivor all the way to Phoenix, landing safe and sound at our place with an hour to spare before zipping off to the airport to pick up the rest of the family.
The longest “can you pick me up at the airport” drive I have ever done.
Lucy of course declined to come with me, even though we were now committed road pals.
Said she needed some time alone.
Something about me talking too much.
Personally, I think she kinda liked it.
