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.
From the Sublime to the Ridiculous
It’s been a beautiful vacation, capped off with visits to two families I adore. Everything has gone so beautifully.
Then, as we set our alarms in Denver for our early morning flight back to Pensacola, we get a notification our flight will be delayed. The huge thunderstorm threw the crew schedule out of whack, and the large window we left for transfer in Atlanta shrunk to . . . nothing.
We’ve missed our flight, but we are very lucky, very lucky, they were able to find us two seats on the next flight out.
My seat
My view
We made it to Pensacola. All our bags made it with us. We had a wonderful ride home. All is well that ends well.
Taos, So Beautiful, We’ll Be Back
Some places, when you arrive, you just feel at home. We felt that way arriving in Taos. Our active-aging demographic went hand in hand with the young skier/snowboarder/rafter athletic demographic, and the two seemed to co-exist well.
We met a man in town who loves petroglyphs as I do, knows the secrets of where to find them and also has a vibrant and active mind. We found great walking, and beautiful spaces. We can’t wait to go back to Taos.
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.
Hovenweep, Canyon of the Ancients and Petroglyphs
We are still sore from our climb the previous day, but we don’t want to waste a minute of our precious time in this area, so we head for the Canyon of the Ancients Monument early in the morning. Oops, not early enough.
We discovered Sand Canyon is a place to park and then you hike in. We saw busloads full of schoolchildren, and then we saw a person with a horse carrier unload his horse to ride into the canyon. Nope – too many people for me, and no guide.
We headed down the road to a petroglyph site, which was small and more than half defaced or updated with more recent writings, one from 1949.
Then on to Hovenweep, which was very exciting, very satisfying, an entire valley of ancient Pueblo houses, with various architectural styles, on an easy hike around the valley.
(A different perspective of Sleeping Ute Mountain)
We hiked around to the Tower House, taking photos and also enjoying the spring flowers in their colorful glory. Hovenweep is a beautiful park, with a smooth easy trail, even wheelchair accessible to the first overlook. The rest of it is too extreme for wheelchairs, but an easy walk for most people.
Leaving Hovenweep, we took a northern road toward Dolores, a small town with an old railroad depot, and the Dolores River running through it. They have a very good museum and visitors center there, but for the time being it is closed for renovations. On our way to lunch, looking for the restaurant, we were stopped by a very polite police officer who reminded us we were in a school zone (we totally missed the sign but we were going slow, just not slow enough.) AdventureMan remembers it as being stopped by Leaphorn, (from Dark Winds). Yes. He really believes that.
We had lunch in Dolores at a Mexican restaurant called Montezuma, where I had a burrito and AM had enchiladas, both with beans and rice, and very Mexican.
Heading back through Cortez, we stopped again at City Market to find supplies for our anticipated trek to the Ute Indian reservation park the next day, picking up a loaf of bread and some Comte, locally made.
Back to our peaceful cabin, and a dinner of pasta aglio oglio, with garlic bread and salad.
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