Berlin: Too Little Time!
We slept well, except for that wide-awake part around 1:30 a.m., but we got back to sleep and then nearly died trying to get up at 7:00 a.m. for a 7:30 breakfast and our morning tour of Berlin. We were so tempted to just skip it, but we didn’t. I know you will ask, looking at these photos, weren’t you cold?
We weren’t! We have lovely heavy coats we bought in Germany years ago, and layers of clothing underneath that keep us warm and toasty, even when lost in a snowy park.
Lovely breakfast buffet, lots of healthy options, only a little skimpy on the coffee. It is cold and snowing, but we are dressed for it, and not having any problems.
We have been assigned to the purple bus, which will depart at 0800 and we have been told we must be ready to board at 8. The grey bus will board at 8:30. Gathering in the hotel reception was a lot of fun; the Grand Hyatt has decorators who will transform the hotel into a Christmas wonderland. We got to watch the beginning of the huge poinsettia tree.
Our purple bus left at 8:30, with our guide, Peter, who turned out to be superb. He was knowledgeable and objective, and when he was giving an opinion, he was quick to identify it as opinion, personal experience, or anecdotal information. We started with a drive to the Reichstag and Brandenburg gate, where we had time for a walk and photos.
(Some of these photos are less than clear – I had a real problem focusing the camera when it was snowing. The camera didn’t know where to focus. Many of my best photos were taken with the humble iPhone rather than the usually reliable camera.)
(Above is the Reichstag, which we visited later in the day to climb to the top and peer down into the legislative chambers where elected officials are conducting state business. Below is Brandenburg Gate)
We toured the Kufurstendam, and Checkpoint Charlie, and had a thorough drive through the neighborhoods of the former West Berlin, before returning to our starting point and heading into the former Eastern Zone. Peter outlined the post WWII history of Berlin, the building of the wall, and the fall of the Wall. He has personally met and guided several US Presidents and rock musicians (he was most delighted with the musicians). It was an amazing four hours that passed quickly.
We ended with an hour at Beberplatz, where there is a Christmas Market moved from the famous Gendermanplatz because there is some kind of restoration going on there. Beberplatz is also the site of the Nazi book-burning, and a memorial of that horror, library shelves empty of books. Horrors!
We always needed to have a 50-cent coin or a 1 Euro coin to use for the bathrooms, something we never think of in the USA. The pay WCs were always immaculate, and heated!
Back at the hotel, we grabbed a quick Syrian meal at the food court at the nearby mall, which was a hangout for young people, and great for people watching.
We tried without success to withdraw money from three ATMs and were horrified to be told there was a “system problem.”
Back in our room, we were preparing for our visit to the Reichstag, The German equivalent of our US Congress, when we got a message from our bank asking us to contact their fraud department. After a lengthy confirmation process, we were cleared for ATM withdrawals after 24 hours, and just had time to hop in a taxi to get to the Reichstag in time for our appointment.
Visiting the Reichstag was a thrill. We weren’t sure we would get in. We had a letter saying we would be vetted, but we didn’t have a confirmation letter. They scowled at us disapprovingly and then – a miracle! They found our names on the list of people who were permitted! Wooo HOOO! We were escorted to the building, and to the top level of the Reichstag proper, then climbed around and around to the very top.
We could see outside some of the windows in the climb but due to all the snow, many of the windows were totally blocked. We could look down and watch their congressional delegates doing business in the chamber. It was more than a metaphor for transparent government; it was a statement of the belief that government in a Democracy is meant to be transparent.
We watched as several groups of Germans visiting from various small towns and cities met with their congressman/woman for photos; it was joyful!
By the time we left, it was dark, but we knew it was only a twenty-minute walk back, and although it was very very cold, it was not snowing heavily and we thought on a major street, what could go wrong?
We got on the wrong major street. Fortunately, about twenty minutes into the walk AdventureMan realized we were not going in the right direction, and we made a correction. Then, using our tired-end-of-the-day judgment, we decided to cut through a park, where we saw rabbits, and statues of moose and buffalo, and realized once again, we had no idea where we were going. Fortunately, Berlin is full of athletes, and we hailed a biker who was very kind and got us to a street where we could quickly get back to our hotel. Whew!
Being lost, at the end of a long day, in a cold snowy park in the middle of a big city was a little scary, but, compared to the thrill of seeing the Reichstag, hiking to the top, seeing the overview of Berlin, and experiencing so much in one day – getting lost was a small thing.
At the end of the day, we had done more than 17,000 steps. My “record” is 20,000 steps, but it was Monument Valley, and my FitBit confused our ride in the bumpy Land Rover down into the valley with real steps and . . . I never bothered to correct it. But THESE 17,000 steps are all mine!
The finished Poinsettia Tree:
This Berlin we visited today is a far cry from the Berlin we once knew, an island surrounded by an arbitrary and authoritarian government with clearly stated intentions of wiping out the taint of democracy at the first opportunity. This is an open, sophisticated city. It is full of restaurants of all nationalities, and people from all nations, who seem to live together in tolerance and peace, and who express a desire to keep it this way. It is almost too much to absorb. Wait – is that a German eagle at the top of the Poinsettia Christmas tree?
We ache. AdventureMan used up all the bath salts, so the desk said they would send more up and we each had a long soak for our aching bodies. We slept well and were fine for the next day.
Christmas Markets on the Elbe: A Magical Journey
“Best Trip EVER!” we have whispered to one another so many times since returning from this trip. When I tell you the details, you might wonder – an airport horror, a fire on board, and not one, but two times boarding flights and having to de-board and later reboard. You will think “how can this be the best trip ever?” but adventures are made of many details, and on this trip, the magic far outshines the disastrous.
Our trip started wonderfully, with our son picking us up and taking us to the airport. This is not a blessing we take for granted, as both he and his wife have busy lives, and we never want to be those parents who feel entitled to inconvenience them. Our flight to Miami was inconsequential.
I have never been through Miami Airport before, but we had taken a look before we left and saw that the tram was out of service due to structural issues in the airport. That’s not good. But carts are coming on a regular basis to transport us the long walk to our international gate, so that sounds good, doesn’t it?
Once you arrive, signs tell you where to wait for the carts. We arrived around six pm so maybe they were all off for dinner. We waited. We waited. And we waited some more.
We have made a conscious decision, at least going to the cruise departure, to carry our baggage with us. After waiting, we decide we have no choice but to walk, so we do. We manage. It wasn’t all that bad. (I will NEVER, if I can help it, fly through Miami again.)
Miami International Airport is crowded. It is also hot, more than 80°F and we are wearing our heavy winter coats. They have adequate signage.
I find it very passenger-unfriendly. It is not beautiful. It is not intuitive. When we get to our gate area, there is a food court with long lines – and few tables. We grab a couple of (actually very good) Cuban sandwiches and go to the seating area to eat. It is awkward, to balance food, water, and baggage. There are passengers surrounding us speaking all kinds of unidentifiable languages. It is an opportunity for a good conversation, but everyone is grumpy and self-absorbed.
Our gate, we discover, is actually downstairs, and (again, counter-intuitive) there are lines to board on both sides of the very large room. You really have to be paying attention to figure this out. There are limited restrooms, and a lot of people, and more coming every minute. This is going to be a very big plane.
OK, so now I will whine. We board. This is a British Airways flight. The crew members are delightful. The business class is AWFUL. It was business class for sardines. It is like an open hostel. The layout is designed to squeeze the maximum number of lie-flat seats in the minimum space. So there are two seats on the outside of each aisle and four seats down the middle. My husband and I traded with a single guy to be together, but to get to restrooms, you have to step over a sleeping person’s legs. These are the skinniest lie-flat seats I have ever been in, and – worst of all – there is NO storage but for the overhead compartment. No place to put your purse! No place for your shoes! No place to hang your coat! No place for a personal item of any kind! And NO PRIVACY!
I know I am in charge of my own attitude, and I am not happy. I decide to skip the meal entirely, not even a glass of wine, and go to sleep. It was the right solution.
Transiting Charles de Gaulle Airport used to be a thorn in our sides, but this time, as we exited our plane, we saw a red-jacketed woman holding a sign with our names on it (!) and her job was to get us through the transit and to the right gate. We had experienced some anxiety about making this transit, and we got a miracle – Brittany knew just where to go and had us to our gate just as our plane started boarding. Thank you, Viking, for anticipating this tight connection and shepherding us through it.
Getting through Charles De Gaulle was a miracle. Now, magic continues to happen as we near Berlin and see the ground covered with snow. The pilot tells us this is not normal for this early in the season, but oh, it IS beautiful!
More magic – because we have our baggage with us, suddenly we sweep right through with our carry-ons and Viking is there to meet us on the other side of the door.
We have received notification that our international plan with Verizon is in place, and we are good to go with calls and messages and data for the trip. It is a little expensive, but every time we travel, we have had an issue of some kind come up, and then, such coverage is priceless. During this trip we had to make calls about a dental emergency and a suspected credit card fraud, so having this plan in place was worth every penny.
It is maybe a half-hour ride to our hotel, the Grand Hyatt, located on the edge of the old East Zone, and central to everything we want to see. We are so excited. We check in, clean up, organize and rest a little, and are ready to hit the streets. Just up the street is a small local Christmas Market, and a brewery with good traditional German food. It is snowing, but not messy snowing, just little flakes that drift and gather and never exceed a couple inches. It is slick. We have to be careful, but it is so much fun.
Making a snowman for our granddaughter:
This is Potsdamer Platz, where locals gather to drink the traditional hot Gluhwein, and eat a hot pretzel, or gingerbread, or a long sausage. Nearby are major transportation hubs for busses and for trams and for trains, and a very large mall, which we did not visit. We found a smaller mall, very near us, where we could use the ATMs, find quick meals, and an outstanding bottle of Saxon white wine, which we took with us on the boat to have in our room 😁.
It’s been a long time – since before COVID – since we have been in Germany, so we decide we would rather eat in a sit-down restaurant nearby, the Paulaner brewery.
My husband has the large beer, I have the dark beer. We no longer drink a lot of beer, but oh my, we enjoy this beer.
I have a Nurnburger sausage and a salad.
My husband has a lot of little sausages, and a lot of potatoes!
This is the small mall near our hotel. The funny thing is, it has a very Arab feel. I would bet it is Arab-owned. There is a food court, and many options are Arab, and other options we have seen in Doha and Kuwait. It makes us feel at home.
Interestingly, we find our hotel is also Arab owned.
The rooftop pool is lovely – and has a killer view out over the city.
The fresh air, the walk, the good German food and beer, and the lovely swim to end the day have given us a great day, and an even better sleep, sleeping all through the night on our first night in Berlin.
“NOOOO! Noooo! Not Guinea!”
I was calm when I started. I believe technologies are a benefit, and we just have to overcome our brief discomfort and steep learning curve and we will master new and useful skills.
Prayer helps.
AdventureMan asked if I had arranged for overseas calling plans while we are on vacation later this month.
“Ummm . . . not yet . . . but I intend to.”
(Rats! Now I have to do it!)
I tried going online, but it’s been years since I chose a password, and I can’t make it work for me, but there is a phone number, so I call it. I know it will be some kind of automated system, but I speak clearly, and I just grit my teeth and know I’ll get through it.
(I don’t.)
The automated system doesn’t seem to understand me. It asks for the countries where I will be traveling, and the dates. I give them. The automated voice gets the dates – even the YEAR! – wrong, and tells me he is setting up an international plan for Guinea.
I hate when this happens, and I especially hate it when AdventureMan is home, because I can hear him laughing from his office as I scream “NOOOOO!NOOOOO! NOT GUINEA! I WANT TO TALK TO A REAL PERSON! REAL PERSON!” The artificial intelligence totally misunderstands, wants me to confirm my upcoming trip to Guinea (NOOOOOOO!!) and finally I find the magic words “LIVE AGENT” and after 53 minutes with a live agent, Ken, (who I believe is in the Philippines and wants me to adopt him) sets AdventureMan and I up with a plan for both our phones.
When all is confirmed, I can see AdventureMan’s plan, but mine never shows up, necessitating a trip to the Verizon office where they are able to confirm that THEY an see plans on both lines, even if I can’t. And this time, for the right countries.
Or so I believe.
Seventeen Years as Intlxpatr
I don’t blog as often these days – who knew retirement would be so busy? I’ve now lost 40 pounds in retirement – did I mention I was diagnosed diabetic about ten years ago? I started with water aerobics, and when COVID hit, went bach to swimming. We learned to swim in Alaska, when we were very young. Everyone had boats, and every kid learned to swim, even though we had life jackets. The pool where we learned to swim, Evergreen Park, doesn’t even have that old glacier-river fed swimming pool anymore. Yes. It was cold. It didn’t matter. We loved swimming.
Now I am swimming three days a week, 2 miles a day. I love getting up early in the morning and hitting the pool early. I love the quiet of lap swimming and the noise of my pool buddies. It’s a great way to start the day.
I found this great Blogaversary cake honoring those early days in Alaska – won’t you have a piece? There’s another, if you don’t want to mar the beauty of this one.
Being an Alaskan has profoundly influenced who I am; it gave me a spirit of adventure and exploration. We spent a couple years in Seattle, and then moved to Germany with our lively parents, who took us everywhere during the 10 years they lived there.
We lived in Heidelberg. We had our high school proms and graduation in the Heidelberg Castle. We would jump on a train and go to Paris, or Berlin, or Amsterdam. It was an extraordinary adventure.
I met AdventureMan when my sister married in the Heidelberg Castle. We’re heading back later this year to visit some of the cities we were unable to visit during the long years of the Cold War, when there was a wall and a curtain that kept us all divided.
All those early years, they didn’t have “blogging.” It wasn’t until I got to Doha that I discovered blogs, and not until I got to Kuwait that I took the plunge and started this blog. I was terrified. The blogging scene could be rough, and people writing anonymous comments could be brutal. An expat who offended a high official could be sent home, and I didn’t want my husband to suffer for my mistake.
As it turned out, while it was important to tread carefully, blogging opened up a whole new world to me, and I met some really special people who helped me see things in new ways. Blogging changed my life. It gave me a voice, even if it was a timid one. The longer I blogged, the more confident I became – thanks to my fellow bloggers and friends who encouraged me.
So, to honor you, I do this annual virtual party, and invite all of you to enjoy these astounding cakes that people with vision create. I celebrate them, too, and their wondrous talent.
I appreciate the years of friendship and support you have given me. I thank you for reading about my travels and adventures, and for sharing my joys and woes. Thank you, thank you.
And on to Taos, New Mexico
We took this route specifically to visit Chaco Canyon. At the entrance, we saw a tire vendor, with a huge selection of tires, just out by the road. As we went on, the roads got rougher and rougher, and we decided not to risk getting stuck out in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire.
We took a turn off overlooking a huge reservoir, beautiful blue-green in a dry country. Sitting on a bench was a couple, older, about our age, just sitting quietly. We greeted them and spoke of the beauty of the site, and the woman said, “yes, we have never seen the reservoir this high, and we came just to look at it. It is a miracle.” It was a beautiful moment.
We found our hotel, The Taos Inn, easily, right in the middle of town, with its own parking! We loved our room.
Lake Powell to Farmington
So now I am flying by the seat of my pants. I got to the end of the Lake Powel notes and . . . there is nothing more. How did I stop taking notes?
I do have photos, and I can figure some of it out. The drive from Lake Powel looked very different – different weather, no storm, all sun and blue skies, and it makes the landscape appear very different, too. You see things you didn’t see, even though you are on the same road (we will go right past where we turned onto Route 160 from Cortez as we drive past to Farmington, NM.
And we arrive in Farmington at our B&B The Casa Blanca:
We loved the Casa Blanca – neat, clean, and a lovely breakfast. The manager also gave us a recommendation for lunch, The Three Rivers, which was a great place to eat in Farmington.
We called it a night early in Farmington, and got a good start early the next morning.
Lady Emma Takes us On a Tour of Lake Powell
Dinner took two hours and by the time we left the restaurant, I was almost falling over from fatigue, despite our late afternoon naps. I still had to wash my hair, and the hair dryer was a puny little thing (I’m not very happy when I am tired. I’m like a whiny baby.) We slept well, and were up and ready for our boat trip in plenty of time.
As we grabbed coffee, tea and some breakfast at the Starbucks while waiting for our trip to go, I wondered about the management of the Lake Powell Resort. It is the only hotel on Lake Powell, and the view goes on forever. When I looked it up, I learned it is a National Park Service hotel, operated and managed by Aramark, who runs various hospitality sites around the world.
I looked them up. Here is their mission statement:
We are a leading global provider of food, facilities and uniform services to education, healthcare, business and industry, and sports, leisure and corrections clients. Our core market is North America, which is supplemented by an additional 20-country footprint serving many of the fastest-growing global geographies.
It sounds to me like a major contract management company, with a lot of sub-contractors.
At Lake Powell, I was impressed by how many employees were Native American and wondered if it were an employment priority. I had thought perhaps Lake Powell was a tribal-owned facility, but I was wrong.
We had to check in at the lodge for the boat trip. We watched people gather, check-in (or not; some people were trying to get on the trip but the boat was fully booked) and they were of all nationalities. A large Indian family with two young children came aboard, a French couple, and a variety of other people until the boat was filled. The employee checking us in then had to go down to the marina and get a train, as the train driver had not shown up. She came back and took us down in three trips. The captain of the boat was also female, and her assistant was also female all Navaho.
We had a great boat ride. I wish I could remember all the sights she pointed out to us. We first went by the marina, then to Glen Canyon Dam, then on the Colorado River and then on the Navaho River. It was a beautiful day, the light was great, and we were just really glad to be on board.
After the boat ride we quickly cleaned up and went into nearby Page to the State 48 Bar and Grill, where we decided we had made the right choice. The place had a great menu and was full of locals. AM had a beer and a Cowboy Burger, and I had the Avocado Black Bean Tacos. It was all delicious and satisfying.
Just around the corner was the Dara Express Thai food (and Korean and Vietnamese) but as it turned out, they did not have the Vietnamese salad rolls we love to have for dinner, but there was a Safeway nearby, full of ready-made meals, including sushi. The tour buses had dropped off a hoard of European tourists who were also picking up dinner. We saw the same in Moab last year; it makes for some nice options when people want to eat lighter at dinner. Or if they will be staying at a resort far from town with limited restaurant options. One of the tourists was kind enough to show us where the condiments, plastic knives, forks, and spoons were available, so we were fixed up in no time with our own dinner.
It was HOT. We had food in the car and had to take it out for fear of a melted chocolate mess. The biscotti were fine, but my chocolate-covered caramels were a soggy mess and had to be tossed.
The heat was simmering, the light was hard and flat and it was a good time for a nap. We snoozed a while, then hit the pool. There is more than one, and the one closest to us is always full, so we end up at the pool at the lodge, where we can get lounge chairs. As we enter, a woman asks “Can I ask, where did you get that?” I was carrying a noodle and I thought she was asking about that, but no, she wanted to know where I found the pool towel. I showed her the pool towel cupboard but it was empty. AM advised her to ask at reception, but she just sat by the side of the pool and scowled.
Cortez to Lake Powell
“Why Lake Powell?” asks AdventureMan. “The North Rim of the Grand Canyon isn’t open, and we haven’t seen Lake Powell,” I respond. “Have you looked at Lake Powell on the map? It’s man-made, and it goes on for miles. We might want to see it before it all dries up.”
Last year, on the Colorado River in May, the river levels were already desperately low.
“And it’s also a road we like, not interstate, gorgeous formations, and featured in Dark Winds and Outer Range,” I add.
Our last breakfast is the organic eggs and the last of AMs chicken mole, a delicious combination, as we pack our gear, strip our beds, wash the dishes, and load up the car. We say goodbye to Cecilia as we are leaving and head out back down the highway toward Kayenta, heading for Lake Powell.
Once again the scenery changes dramatically. We leave behind the high mountains and head down into red cliffs and huge dramatically sculpted free-standing flat-topped monuments in the desert. The clouds are dark and equally dramatic, making for some great contrasts.
We stop at Basha’s in Keyenta, a grocery store we love, and discover it has seriously modernized in the years since we last visited. The first thing we see when we enter is a Starbucks, just in time for me to get a mid-morning caffeine fix. All the different sectors of the grocery have signs in two languages, English and Navaho for produce, meat, bakery, delicatessen, etc.
While waiting for my coffee, a toddler came running in, wearing a dress and glasses almost as big as her face. She was so cute! The lady next to me showed us a photo of her granddaughter, equally cute. We, grandmothers, are all the same, so proud of our grandchildren.
We stopped at an overlook where I thought I saw a coyote, but AM said it was just a dog, and then there were two. I hope they hadn’t been abandoned there, I hope there was an unseen residence nearby where they lived.
Coming into Lake Powell was another dramatic shift in scenery, bleak and deserted, but contrasted with the bright blue waters of Lake Powell. We stopped at Big John’s Texas BBQ and ate at long picnic tables surrounded by tourists from many nations.
We then headed on to the Lake Powell resort, where we have reservations, and fortunately they have our room ready. It is a pretty standard kind of hotel room, except that it has a panoramic view of Lake Powell, and that makes all the difference.
When we go to confirm our boat ride for tomorrow, the concession clerk tells us we are lucky to be on tomorrow morning as the one for this afternoon was canceled because the boat had a problem. Evidently, it wasn’t pretty. She had all these people seriously disappointed they weren’t going to get their boat ride, they were only here today, their bus would be leaving and she had had quite a time trying to unruffle all those feathers. We gave her our utmost sympathy.
I had a good swim for about half an hour at the pool, it felt so good, and then a few drops of rain – well I can handle that.
And then lightning and thunder, and that is a good time to get out of the pool. We head back to the room and I catch up on documenting our journey. Soon we need to get ready for dinner; the restaurant here has a famous Cioppino which we intend to share with a couple salads.
The Cioppino was delicious, as was the Caesar salad I had preceding it.
We were lucky to have reservations, people were being turned away, and all around us were tables of tour groups, eating their meals. We could see they had choices, an appetizer, soup or salad, and an entree. They all got dessert. They were having a great time, and getting them in and out is clearly the hotel’s bread and butter. Lake Powell is a great stop between places like Zion and Bryce Canyon and Mesa Verde, or Canyon de Chilly or Santa Fe, and what we saw now, in late mid-May is just the beginning.
What puzzles me is that the restaurant is at full capacity, and people are being turned away, what will they do when the high season hits? Our waiter tells us there is a real problem finding enough people to work there, and the resort is several miles from Pace, the nearest city, so there is nowhere else for the people on bus tours to eat.
Mesa Verde, Cliff House Loop and Coyote Village
We decide to head back to Mesa Verde for our last full day and see some of the sights we didn’t get to yesterday. We started with the Cliff House loop, and were amazed to see how many people were there before us. There was a bus full of Italians, and a bus full of French people. There were all kinds of people our age waiting for the Ranger tour of the Cliff House; you need reservations and the numbers are limited. We did it the last time so felt comfortable skipping it this time, and went on to view other sites, some of which were open, and some not.
The most productive site for us was the Far View site, where archeologists have excavated much of a village and reservoir from ancient times.
The Docent Ranger tells us that they may have to close the exhibit soon because some of the walls are so fragile that even with careful visitors, the stress on ancient stones and foundations are too fragile to survive the number of visitors, which is affecting their condition.
We were able to see the storage rooms and the kivas. People talk about the ceremonial functions of the kivas – they look to me like they had functional purposes, perhaps keeping people out of the heat and out of the elements, perhaps gatherings, yes, and it made me think of Thanksgiving and how a very casual gathering could be described as ceremonial.
I think we toss that word around too lightly. I think we are often discussing customary, daily doings and elevating these daily rituals by calling them ceremonial. Am I ceremonial while I wash my dishes, or hang my laundry? Do I ceremonially cook our dinner?
I love visiting these sites and having these conversations in my head.
We take a chance on getting a table at the Absolute Bakery in Mancos, a place we love. Very casual, everything home made and delicious, and we are lucky, they have enlarged and have a room in the back which they open for us, and then others, too.
Back at the cabin, we finish off the spaghetti and garlic bread back at the cabin for our last dinner in Cortez, and the last few bites of Gustavo’s lemon pie. I check with Cecilia and Alison about what is required for check out (every B&B has its own requirements) and they tell me just to leave our food, that they will use what they can and take care of the rest. We won’t be doing our own cooking for the rest of the trip.
Hiking for Petroglyphs in Mesa Verde
We got up early to head for the Ute reservation park center, where you find tours to take you onto the Ute reservation, only to find it was closed. It’s a beautiful morning, although there are some threatening clouds, so we had to nearby Mesa Verde, stopping at the Cortez welcome center where a kind lady tells us about the Spruce House petroglyph trail, a 2.4-mile trail, fairly easy, she tells us, which reassures me because I am in a skirt and sandals.
We love Mesa Verde. We’ve been here before, and we can see there have been a lot of major improvements since the last time we were there.
Some of the roads are still not open, due to damage over the winter, but the hike to the petroglyphs is open.
As we drive into the Spruce House parking lot, there is a great parking spot, and as we turn into it, there is a woman in the next car, pulling things out, and scowling at us like “go somewhere else to park!” AM couldn’t resist chatting her up; it looked like she had her entire household packed in her car and no matter how nice he was, she was crabby and negative in return. We couldn’t help but laugh.
We ask the Ranger at the Museum about the Spruce House trail and he tells us there is one place, just past the petroglyphs, that is a hard vertical climb, but the rest is easy.
It was not. This was one of the hardest hikes I can remember in a long time, with many steep narrow stone ascents and descents.
Just as we entered Mesa Verde, my camera battery had gone, so I only had my phone camera, not my bigger camera, which turned out to be a really good thing. By the time we discovered how hard the trail would be, we couldn’t really turn back, so we made frequent stops to calm our heart rates. Some hikers passed us heading back, some because they had tour times they realized they couldn’t make it if they completed the hike, and some just turned back because it was too hard.
We gutted it out. There were times we just laughed.
We made it to the petroglyphs, and appreciated the beauty of Spruce Canyon. We were on many narrow little trails on which a false step could result in a long, dangerous fall, which made us very intentional in our foot placement, and slowed our pace.
Just after the petroglyphs we came to the place the Ranger had described. People were turning back. There were places that required finding a place to plant your foot where you could lift yourself to the next level, raising the other leg.
That I could do! I do it three times every week, exiting the pool! It is the same movement! We waited for another group to pass us – me being in a skirt and having to raise it to execute the climbing moves up the rocks. We stopped a couple times in the climb just to catch our breaths, to slow our hearts, and to appreciate how difficult this was, and we were doing it!
Once we got to the top, there was a smooth, easy path back to the museum. We took it slow, our thigh muscles were aching from all the ascents and decents, and my hips were aching from the climbs. We were so thankful just to finish the hike, but we were laughing at the description of this hike as an “easy level trail.” We later learned it was listed as a strenuous hike, a description we would agree with.
Just happy it’s over. We made it. We made it!
On the way home, late in the afternoon, we stopped at a Mexican restaurant in Cortez which had intrigued AdventureMan; Gustavo’s.
We really liked it. I ordered three street tacos al pastor, and AM ordered the chicken mole.
We were both delighted with our orders; mine were small tacos with just meat and onion and cilantro, and a spicy sweet mustard sauce, absolutely delicious. AM’s mole was a WOW, with sweet tender chicken with a sauce that was decidedly chocolate but carried a big heat. As usual, we couldn’t eat it all, so we boxed up one of his chicken mole’s and an order of Gustavo’s lemon pie (it was more like a lemon tiramisu, with layers of pastry between layers of a mascarpone and lemon filling, amazing and unusual) to take with us for dinner.
When dinner came, we were still so full we just had a couple slices of the comte cheese and crackers for dinner, and that was enough.
Recent Comments
Kitchen on Isiais: Winding Down intlxpatr on Shampoo Ginger tigerbutterya0c5ff1d… on Shampoo Ginger intlxpatr on British Soldier Kidnapped, Esc… John on British Soldier Kidnapped, Esc… Wikipedia Donate Button
Amazina
Early Voting in Florida
