The Worlds Collide

There are many simple, yet evocative terms to describe the physical landscape of North America.  The Great Plains, where once the Bison roamed in numbers unimaginable today, extends two thousand miles from Canada to Texas.  Sometimes it is just too easy to dismiss these vast flat expanses or question why on earth people persist in continuing to live in Tornado Alley.  Continue west though and sooner or later you will slam into the Rocky Mountains - three thousand miles of mountains from Canada to New Mexico.  The Continental Divide of the Americas runs through the Rockies and determines whether water will end in the Atlantic or the Pacific oceans.

Our next destination was the state of Colorado, a state shaped by the power of the land and the meeting place for these great landscapes.  To the east are the Great Plains and to the west the Southern Rockies.  The state is named after the Colorado river, which begins its life in the Rockies and makes its way through dramatic canyons, including of course the Grand Canyon itself.

We were so very far from the Southern coasts.  I arrived in Denver Airport and was amazed by the size of the place.  Nothing in Colorado fails to be dramatic and this is the largest airport in the USA by area - 54 square miles.  It has the longest public use runway in the US and is the fifteenth busiest airport in the world - not bad for a state with a population just over 5 million (comparable to Scotland).  Impressive though it was and reassuring though all the Tornado shelters were, I would probably try to avoid Denver in the future because it took an age just to get out the airport and to the hire car.

J and Harriet were already at the campsite and I had spoken to them before arriving so I was more prepared.  The interstates out of Denver look much like any in the US but it does not stay that way for long.  The I-70 begins in Baltimore and ends in Utah, but in order to get there it must cross the Rocky mountains.  Soon into the journey you are aware that you are traveling on a very ambitious piece of civil engineering.

The I-70 is full of oddities.  For one thing it has a lower speed limit in the left (fast/passing) lane than the right in sections as you climb and twist your way (presumably to discourage flying off the edge into thin air).  The yellow warning signs persistently remind you to test your brakes and though not relevant at this time of year, warn of dire consequences if you attempt to take this road without chains.  Periodically there are massive barriers at junctions that can be used to close the road and as you push on the signs become colloquial but serious in tone: "Trucks you are not there yet", "Trucks don't be fooled".

In my brand new Ford Taurus it was little problem but the 11 tons of Rosie had a much harder job and it is a testament to her and J's driving that they made it through this.

The story of the US is sadly too often one of exploitation.  Bison make way for Cattle and the towns in the Rockies that we were passing and would visit were created for the sole reason of exploiting the reserves of gold and silver.  Yet for all our power in building roads and blasting tunnels there are still severe constraints imposed by the land.  The parkway that would take us to Central City was a fine four lane road but had to obey the geography and could not avoid hard turns and rapid ascents and descents.

The cruelest blow though came at the top.  You could see the KOA campsite but there was no turning.  Instead, you had to dive down 500ft, turn around and then make an implausibly steep ascent back up to where you had just been.  I have no idea how Rosie managed it but from now on I think I can safely describe the hills of San Francisco as gentle.

Our campsite sat at 9,000ft above sea level and was cool.  The mountains towered all around us and below us was a sheer drop into Central City.

The campsite was nice enough and Hatty made lots of friends as usual.  It would be too cold for a swimming pool but there were two hot tubs inside.  Hatty and I went in the tub - ever the trailblazers because I could see so many people curious and eventually deciding to join in.  After we were finished I left her by the side of the hot tub holding court and she spent more or less the whole evening with a new friend who was almost the same age.  After they were done in the tub it was out to the swings - I would periodically check on her and chat to the parents.  The main game seemed to be pretending to be on a rocket ship and traveling to other planets as the swings were pushed higher and higher.  It all seemed so appropriate given we were so much closer to the stars.

The next day Hatty and I tried to visit a gold mine but it was closed.  So we spent some time in Central City.  This now intends to make its money from casinos but was extremely quiet.  We looked in a few stores but I got tired of making conversation with the sales people, who seemed to be completely starved of human interaction.  There must be money in the town because it is so well maintained but it does feel like it is on the verge of being a ghost town.  One nice moment though was passing a barn and hearing operatic singing - Central City is home to one of the oldest opera companies in the US and I presume this is where they practice.

Since it was not an option to go to the casinos we visited the museum and learned a little about the city and its mining history.

The museum contained items that were expected as well as the unexpected (a wooden submarine),  They have a treasure hunt for children by telling them to find the location of two stuffed chickens in return for a candy reward.  This was less successful a distraction for us because Hatty wanted to find those chickens and would look at nothing that was not potentially chicken related and would not stop talking about it.  So in the end we had to find the chickens before I got any peace to look at the exhibits.

Other than stuffed chickens the main animals we saw were chipmunks.  There was one animal though that was close to us though thankfully we did not see it.  In the morning there was trash strewn on the campsite and down into the slopes below.  Warning messages on the local TV left us in no doubt - we had been visited by bears who had emptied the dumpster.  The warnings said not to let your children play alone and the campsite was regularly patrolled by police.

The bear is another fine reminder of our smallness in this great landscape.  It is also a reminder of how hard we must work to make sure we live in balance with our surroundings -  warning signs about bears are common in US parks but this brought it home just how important it is to lock up and secure food.  Campgrounds forbid you from keeping food in tents or trailers (hard sided motor-homes are fine) and I thought of Hatty's friend who was camping in a tent 50 ft away from the dumpster.  You are warned that you do not really realize what a bear claw can do to a tent until it is probably too late.

It had been a beautiful stay but we needed to continue.  I returned to the world's 15th busiest airport and Rosie continued to climb her way on I-70 .  The great state of Colorado had indeed been great.  The plains, the mountains, the rivers and the bears had been kind enough to let us have our very small view and the Continental Divide now decreed that we flow onward to the Pacific coast.

On the Cuteness of Tarantulas

Travel should, ideally, be a blend of relaxation punctuated by those moments of surprise and wonder that you will remember forever.  It was several years ago that we first set eyes on the Grand Canyon and to this day it is still a difficult sight to comprehend - it did not really seem real, it was so vast.  Somehow you felt like your eyes were not capable of taking it all in and you needed to stitch together a panoramic view.

Our stay in Texas was to be another Canyon, Palo Duro Canyon State Park.  This was a different sort of place to the Grand Canyon but no less amazing.  The canyon itself is much smaller, which is fortunate because we were going to be staying at the bottom in the RV.  This fact alone made it almost more impressive than the Grand Canyon, the bottom of which is accessible only to competent hikers and certainly not anyone with a five year old.  However, first you need to get to the bottom down a steep 10% gradient - no mean feat for a 10 ton RV.

The campsite was beautiful.  There will I promise be pictures taken with a proper camera to follow. 

It was a marked change from the South - despite the heat the low humidity meant that it was much more tolerable.  The site was reasonably busy so of course Hatty got on her bike to see if she could make friends.

Luckily there was one very good friend.  His father came to talk to us several times too.  I have written often about how awkward our conversations sometimes are with other parents, particularly those from Red States (and in several respects they do not come much redder than Texas).  In this case he was actively seeking conversation so there was no avoiding it.  So among the things we have now done we can add "talk to a SWAT officer from Houston about parenting and how it is love that defines a family, not blood".

However, if humans were remarkable they were nothing compared to the animal life.  As the title suggests one of the first we met was a tarantula.  J had seen it the night before and had taken pictures to prove that he had seen it, which was completely unnecessary because it was still there in the morning just outside the RV.

Once the sun came up it started to stomp around our pitch - we watched with fascination and a healthy dose of fear.

J in particular has an aversion to spiders but has tried not to pass this on to Hatty.  We repeatedly tell her how spiders are our friends because they dispose of flies and other pests.  This was certainly a time to practice what we preached.

Not to be too flippant but a large part of the acceptance of the strange and different is just being aware that you are living with it and how normal it all seems.  Perhaps too with spiders - the tarantula largely ignored us although it did visibly react to Pippin (who was curious but not to same extent as she would have been with a chipmunk or the like).  Eventually it found a hole and descended for the day.

The final part of acceptance is giving it a name - J insisted on naming the spider Fred and that it was a female.  We would see Fred again later that day and we saw many other spiders in the campground although not all of them were alive - the spiders have much more to fear from their surroundings that we have from them.

Fred was only part of the abundant fauna that visited our campsite.  We would be see wild turkeys, rabbits, bats and most remarkably fireflies. I have never seen a firefly before and could not have told you with any certainty where one would find them until they wandered onto our pitch.  I saw the lights at a neighboring pitch first and assumed they were some sort of LED on the RV until the light wandered over to us.

Palo Duro is a remarkable place.  I had flown to Amarillo, about 30 miles north and this had provoked surprise from many people.  Granted, Amarillo is unremarkable but more people should be going there and continuing south for the beauty of this place.  Indeed, we had such a good time in this park despite the problems we had with the RV.  Rosie's slide-outs had stopped working and without them extended she feels very cramped.  Every once in a while I would try to figure out what was wrong but without success and a very expensive repair bill loomed over us.

Still, we tried not to think too much about it and spent most of our time outside.  The park has plenty of trails including a gentle one that starts from the campsite itself and goes down to the river.  Though dusty this place has plenty of green thanks to the water and it was clear that they were still recovering from some of the recent downpours to hit Texas (warmly welcomed by some of Hatty's new friends from Texas).

We also tried one of the longer walks - another enjoyable experience.

There was plenty of opportunity for budding photographers to hone their skills.

We left the Canyon happy though still concerned about the RV so we stopped into a nearby RV center.  I was dreading it when I walked in to their parts department and asked if someone would look at our RV's slide-outs.  Someone came and had a look in the cab and also found the slide-outs unresponsive.  He said he would look in the engine compartment and eliminate the easy things.

He walked off to get a few tools and the gloom settled in but in a few minutes I looked up and saw he was indicating to try it again.  I turned the key, pushed the button and the hydraulics sprang into life!  It was a simple as a loose battery connection and for good measure he fixed our faulty windscreen wiper.  I tried to give him some money but he would not accept it and just wished us well on our journey.

So Canyon, TX is now one of my favorite places.  It provided the perfect blend of relaxation and excitement.  The scenery was spectacular and the animals abundant and surprising.  The only more memorable experience we have had with some wild-life is the small matter of being visited by bears but that is looking ahead in the story to our next stop in Colorado so you will have to wait.  In the meantime, embrace the challenge of learning to love the tarantula and Fred, wherever you are, happy hunting. 

The Grand Isle

After our brief stay in New Orleans we were on the move again.  Last mini crisis was developing because the RV only has one effective deadbolt lock and the key was beginning to bend.  I had left the spare set in New York so we were facing the real possibility that we might not be able to lock Rosie.  So, before we set off we had a supermarket pit-stop and tried to have a replacement key made.  The supermarket only had an automatic key-cutting machine and the computer said no.  I tried an enormous Home Depot but that too had only a computerized system that would not recognize the key.  I was advised to try 'a real hardware store' and thanks to google maps I found one.  The key they produced did not turn the lock but J would subsequently fix that with a file.

Off we set, south on a wide highway that gradually narrowed.  Three lanes became  two and two became one.  The winding road started to resemble more of rural England or France.  The difference was that despite looking like we were surrounded by fields we passed a coastguard station.  In a large shed was a giant ship where a combine harvester should have been.

In fact soon we were running parallel to the water and passing all manner of boats.  The yards we passed had oversized machines designed for serious, heavy lifting.

The final section of road is a toll road.  It begins with a monumental bridge that sweeps you over the water and you arrive at a narrow strip of land that looks barely wide enough for the RV.  The Louisiana 1 continued on to our final destination: the Grand Isle.

We were staying in a state park at the end of the island.  The campground was in easy walking distance to the beach but  initial impressions were disappointing.  Far from Florida's white Gulf sands this beach was covered in seaweed and we nearly became stuck in it as we waded out.  The water was beautifully warm but murky and at no point could you see the bottom.  It was scorching hot and the campground was seemingly never quiet because of constant mowing of the lawns.

I began to be concerned that this was a poor choice for our stay.  However, it definitely got better.  For one thing the bugs were bearable and at night the temperature became very pleasant.  In the morning we took the scooters to the fishing pier and watched the fish - huge clouds of small fish and plenty of larger fish were clearly visible.

The key though was our neighbors.  The site next to us did not bode well because three guys set up a tent with lots of beer. They were, and I don't quite know how else to say it, rednecks.  Their loud conversations and fights were barely comprehensible but at least they fall out and leave the site for a bit.

However, the magic started when Hatty spotted the neighbors across from us.  They had an eight year boy, Jake, and a three year old girl, Jessie.  This made the place because they became the best of friends and we could relax,

In fact though it was got the sea breeze was definitely there and we could relax.  I am always a bit nervous of meeting other people, particularly from red states but there was no avoiding it.  Hatty tells everyone, proudly, about us so there is no need for introductions.

One afternoon I sat on the beach with Jake and Jesse's mom and grandmother.  They were a little curious because Hatty had told them she was Californian and lived in New York - all true but of course her accent doesn't tie with that yet.  So I shared our story and learned about them.  They were from a small town between New Orleans and Baton Rouge.  She used to work in HR for a local bank but gave it up to follow her passion and had become a music teacher.  Her husband she confided was not a traveller but she wanted to visit more places.  They were going to Canada and she hoped this would be a success.  Hatty had told them we live in Times Square - she does this I think when she senses they have no clue about the city and where the Upper West Side might be (I'm pretty sure she tries that first).

Later, when it was just the husband and me on the beach we didn't talk much.  I was desperately trying to think of some conversation but he came up with a good one first: the RVs of course.  Their immaculate RV looked great but he was keen to trade it in for a diesel pusher if they are travel far (I think the furthest he has been is Florida - they were on their way home from two weeks in Orlando).  So we talked about gas prices, prevalence of diesel cars in Europe and RV stuff.

All our meals in the evening were cooked outside and the kids' gang grew with new arrivals.  Hatty started using her bike    for the first time.  She is still too nervous to go on the electric scooter herself but Jake was zipping around on it.

We were treated to a thunder and lightning show every night.  This picture is taken late at night but the lightning has provided the natural flash:

A fraction of a second later it looked like this:

So it wasn't the most beautiful beach in the world but it was such an enjoyable stay because everyone was happy.  It rained heavily and our redneck neighbors gave up and left but so sadly did we.  Hatty was very reluctant to leave the friends she made on the last morning - there were several trailers of people who knew each other and dozens of kids.

As a coda to the story of the Grand Isle, it's worth mentioning that despite its remoteness it has an astonishing supermarket cum hardware store.  It doesn't feel so remote because of you can't find it there you probably can't find it in LA.

We retraced our steps to New Orleans for a night in the campground and to use its pool.  We could enjoy again the delights of the local diner!

I flew out of MSY the next day while J and Hatty began the push into Texas.