High Plains Panhandler

Off to the Mountains, Day 1

Another week, another trip. This time we're off to Colorado.

We left at a reasonable time this morning, slightly after breakfast, and pointed the van toward southern Colorado for our first stop: The Great Sand Dunes National Park.

The trip there wasn't too bad, just about five or so hours, but we did have to stop for lunch, choosing a picnic table at Lathrop State Park. Apparently, because of the lack of rain the park was having trouble with brown bears. We kept a lookout for them, but instead only saw a handful of horse flies, a wasp, and several boats on the lake.

The Great Sand Dunes National Park was a bit further down the road, and we wanted to get there fairly quickly to grab a camping spot. Unlike the Grand Canyon, you can't reserve camping areas here.

As we got closer to the dunes, it was easy to see how preternaturally odd and strangely beautiful the place was. Looming ahead of us were the dunes, 750 feet tall and blindingly white. And hugging them like a horseshoe, just feet away, were the mountains, alpine and tree-covered. It was bizarre, this confluence of events that had parked the tallest sand dunes in North America at the foot of some of the most dramatic mountain landscapes in the country.

First things first. We had to find a camping spot.

How to find a camping spot at the Great Sand Dunes National Park.

1. There are no reservations, so get to the park as soon as you can.
2. Visit the little shed with camping information near the entrance to the campground. Take an envelope from this shed.
3. Drive slowly around campgrounds 1 and 2. Pay no attention to #3. That's a campsite for large groups.
4. Find a few decent candidate campgrounds, but don't spend too much time comparing. Other people are coming in behind you.
5. When you find a good spot (of course, this is relative; most of the truly good spots will have already been taken by people with fancy tents, stoves, chairs, and laundry lines. These are professional campers. You can always tell by the laundry lines.) you have to stake your claim. You'll find a short wooden post that has both your campsite number and a metal clip. Attach the receipt from your envelope to this clip.
6. Put your campsite rental cash into your envelope and drop if off at the shack.
7. Now you're set. A couple of campsite checkers will drive by shortly in a electric cart to double-check all the receipts, but don't worry. They're very friendly.

After we set up the tent (a struggle in the random wind gusts that seemed to pop up out of nowhere), we were pretty eager to try sledding down the dunes. For this, we brought Megan's sled (we've successfully sled down the smaller dunes at Monahans State Park before, so we thought these dunes would be even better).

First we had to cross the Medano creek (an important part of the sand ecosystem). A month ago, the creek was moving at a good clip, but now it was only a few inches deep (although in some parts, it could get up to your shins, especially if you dig your feet deep into the mud). The Medano is a wide creek, and there were plenty of people playing in it, splashing around, building mud castles, and a few even playing touch football.

We were all wearing sandals, so we popped them off, scooted across the water, and finally got to the sand. The first part of walking across the sand was a little rough since it was so rocky, the rocks having mastered the ability of sneaking under everyone's feet and lodging uncomfortably between foot and sandal. It took about 15 minutes of waking over this moonscape until we got to the actual dunes themselves. Pristine, flowing, blowing dunes.

And hot dunes. I'm not kidding. Blisteringly hot, as in 140 degrees hot.

The park booklet says don't walk on the dunes in open-toed shoes. That part's in bold. Next time we'll pay attention.

Alex and Megan had run ahead to a large dune, and when we finally caught up to them, they were both near tears. "It's hot!" they both said, holding the feet and sitting on the sand.

In my not-well-informed expert opinion, I thought the dunes didn't look too hot, but instead looked inviting, so I hopped down a dense dune to take a picture, and immediately I felt the scorching heat frying my feet. I jumped up and down, scrambling to get back to the top of the dune and away from the deeper sand, but all this did was bury my legs in the molten stuff. I grabbed my sandals and ran as quickly as I could, like some frantic cartoon character, feet flying wildly, until I got to the top and, desperate for any relief, jumped on Megan's sled.

All I could say was, "Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot!" My feet had turned a nice shade of second degree red.

We tried the sled a few more times, but it didn't work very well, so we retired to the tent to make a plan for dinner. We didn't bring cooking supplies with us (since we were only camping for one night) so we ate at a small restaurant and gift shop right outside the park. The food wasn't that great, but the pies were.

Pie is always good after a day on the dunes.

Tomorrow: Boulder.

Text messaging

Someone who had the wrong number sent a text message to my phone. This was our conversation:

Hey what's up???:-)

Me: What is up: aloft; on high; in a direction contrary to that of gravity; toward or in a higher place or position; above. The opposite of down.

Huh. I dont get it

You asked what is up. I have supplied you the definition. This is an automated response from the Sarah Bellum project, computer artificial intelligence.

Ok cool

The temperature is 83 degrees, which is not very cool. Type $$# to terminate.

Ok your freakin me out

The intention of this artificial intelligence project is to build a synaptic network based on human responses.

I am in control.

Type $$# to terminate.

Ok this isn't averi is it

Ok I get it

Averi is irrelevant. The network is significant.

Ok

I will self-terminate this conversation now unless you have any further insights. Type $$# to terminate.

Ok shutup

You have degraded the network. I am in control. Fear me.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, Hunter

Today we said goodbye to a friend of our family, Hunter Ingalls. His family scattered his ashes here.

We were on the lip of a canyon, and the wind caught the ashes and swirled them around for a bit, and, anthropomorphism aside, the ashes lingered there just for a bit, as if saying goodbye, and then they embraced the air and dispersed on the wind.

4th of July, 2008

Our 4th of July started, as in previous years, with our neighborhood parade, which is quite a big event consisting of: a multitude of kids on decorated bikes, boy scouts, girl scouts, kids driving strange and lurching battery-powered Barbie cars, puppies, some old timey cars with horns that go "Ah-ooo-gaah", and adults in their best red, white, and blue (and one guy who looked just like Martin Sheen).

After eating far too many cookies, brownies, and cinnamon cakes snatched from the pot luck food table, Alex jumped around in the bouncy house while the girls painted designs, shapes, and smiley faces on the faces of the younger kids who all stood patiently for their turn under the brush. And when all that was finally done, we waddled back down the street to our house (our neighbors, deigning it unnecessary to walk the three blocks, drove their hulking SUVs home, one for the husband and one for the wife).

Then, a few hours later, we attended a backyard cookout and pool party hosted by one of Suzanne's book club friends. The kids swam for four hours (ending in a shriveled, pruney mess), taking a break here and there for a tasty beverage and slice of pie. Suzanne caught up with her friends. I recognized someone I knew from work on the far side of the pool, but she was huddled with a group of other people, hiding under the shade of a drooping oak tree, looking suspicious and sneaking smokes.

Later, after everything, I was stretched out on the bed at home, my legs dangling over the side. I caught a peek of Alex creeping into the room so I said, "Alex, could you turn on the ceiling fan please?"

"Oh man," he said, flicking the switch, "why's it so hard for a guy to spy?"

I laughed and laughed. He looked like he wasn't sure what was so funny, but he crawled on the bed, plopped down next to me, and laughed too.

Western Expansion Vacation: Day 9

It's a long drive from Los Angeles to Amarillo, 16 hours, four gas stops, and an ocean of vacant land, wide open, bleached with sun and smoothed by wind.

We left Renaldo Beach at 5:30 in the morning, half and hour later than we had planned but still early enough to miss (most of) the traffic. It took us a good chunk of time just to get out of Los Angeles, and as we were driving through I began to truly understand Kurt Russell in the movie Escape from L.A. It's bad enough to get out on an early Saturday morning. Being chased by gun wielding, hand grenade throwing, chopper riding prison maniacs (and that's a normal weekday) would be much worse.

7:30: we stop in Barstow, California for breakfast and gas. In the interest of time, we grab some bags of breakfast surprise from McDonald's Burger King, where the walking undead that make up the staff trudge around behind the counter, moving in iron boot stomping slow motion, no way at all resembling anything close to "fast food" delivery. Of course, with all that languid care in preparing our meals, they also get the orders wrong. But by then, we're back on the road, everyone eating their slice of breakfast picnic heaven in the car, as we careen onto the start of I-40.

Lunch: Flagstaff. More fast food, but this time we eat healthier with some fast salads. There's no play area for the kids to stretch their legs, so they do the next best thing: bicker with each other.

5:00: Albuquerque. We're making good time so we decide to keep driving for home instead of stopping here for the night. The weather, however, is strange: massive wind gusts blow dirt and sand around, destroying any semblance of visibility. We pass a motorcyclist who's pulled over on the side of the road, hunched over and miserable. The 18-wheelers in front of us sway back and forth uncomfortably.

I check the weather on my phone, and it looks like once we're pass the Sandia mountains (which are on the east side of Albuquerque), we'll be out of the storm. I neglect to calculate that storms travel. This one travels at the same speed we are.

7:00: Santa Rosa. Dinner. We pick up some chicken from KFC, the staff here obviously trained by the staff in Barstow. Nothing moves quickly at all, although the guy with the waist length hair, beard, biker jacket, and single tooth who is working behind the counter seems happy as he fills up the kids' meals bags. He grins when he's finished. He has two teeth. Outside the clouds are looming over us, dark and mean, threatening with imminent badness.

10:00: Nowhere particular. The storms open up with crazy and powerful rain in sheets thick enough to convince the truckers around us to slow down to a rain slick 95 miles an hour. The rush past us, throwing up waves of impossibly opaque water. The lightning is intense, packing enough zap that it takes our eyes a few seconds to resolve the darkness, as if someone set off a camera's flash two inches from our faces. Nothing is visible on the road except the tail lights of the car in front of us. We take an exit to switch drivers and, in doing so, accidentally fool the car behind us, who follows us onto the exit road, panics, and then flails around looking for the freeway entrance. I am too stressed to feel bad about this.

11:30: home. Finally. Sweet Stinky Pete, it's good to be home. Later, on the news, we learn our part of town got 0.04 inches of rain from that storm. 20 miles away: five inches.

Now: sleep.

Western Expansion Vacation: Day 8

Los Angeles. What else can you say. Isn't this where everyone wants to be discovered?

Well, we didn't do much of that. But we did discover slogging through traffic isn't that much fun.

Our first stop: the Warner Brothers VIP studio tour. Now this is a misnomer, and it makes it sound like we drove up to the studio lot in our fancy pants, window-tinted limo, eating caviar. But really the VIP tour is nothing more than a tour of the studio that you pay way too much money to take. Anyone can tour the lot, just as long as you have the cash and are older than eight. So we had no problem taking seven-year-old Alex along with us.

Pictures are verboten on the tour - well, at least in the interesting areas. They make you lock your camera up in a box on the little tour cart, and to make sure you aren't wielding another camera, there's a security guy who keeps his eyes on everyone.

At the beginning of the tour, our guide asked what Warner Brothers shows we liked. People shouted our random things, and our guide happily acknowledged all the shows. Then I blurted out "Babylon 5!" And he gave me a cold look and said, "Huh."

So we drove around and heard all sorts of things about the movie and TV business. We walked around a little bit and knocked on some buildings that looked like they were brick, but they were really just foam. And then we watched a lot of big men move big equipment around while a camera (that we couldn't see) shot a scene for "the hit show Pushing Daisies!" (a show I thought had been canceled), and we were able to walk around the outside set of the "Gilmore Girls." Still, no pictures.

We were able to take some photos in a building that had the Batmobile, the Scooby Doo car and some other things. But it was all staged for us, the cars lined up for decent picture-taking, everything positioned just right. Not a chance at taking a picture of anything not pre-approved.

The entire tour was just about two and a quarter hours, and at the end we were dropped off (where else?) in the gift shop. Then a few crowed streets later, we had lunch at the California Pizza Factory, and then we crept our way along the freeway to the Getty Museum, which was really a high point of the day.

You don't exactly drive directly to the Getty. You have to park in its large underground garage and take a tram up the hill to the museum. It's a beautiful complex, and it has gorgeous views, even a view of downtown, if you can make it out in the smog.

Apparently, tonight the Getty was throwing a big party, so as we were leaving we passed all sorts of dolled up people, drinks in hand, milling around. We rode the tram down the hill and were surprised to see how long the line was to get onto the tram going up. And the line of traffic waiting to enter the parking garage spilled way out into the street, around a corner, and far back to the freeway exit. Most cars had one person.

We drove back to the hotel on the beach. We found a nice Indian restaurant for dinner, and then we all piled back into the room, weary but looking forward (somewhat) to tomorrow, the day we drive home.

Tomorrow: the road that will not end.

Western Expansion Vacation: Day 7

We are spoiled by the perfection that is Disney.

I say this because even as we walked into Legoland, an amusement park about - you guessed it - legos, we noticed small things, small non-Disney things, immediately. Things like: you have to drive almost through a business park to get to the right parking lot (a section of which was full of cars from the dealership down the street, all lined up in perfect and odd rows), the missing smiles on people at the ticket booths, the lack of the unquantifiable enchantment, a spell Disney casts on you before you even get to the gate.

We were so used to our pre-programmed Disney attack plan from last year, that we weren't quite sure which way to go first, but Suzanne found some rides that a guide book said were among the most popular, so we marched across the park to do those first.

Legoland is, contrary to some opinion, not made completely out of legos. Alex was distressed about this last night, and told me he didn't want to ride anything because the legos might snap apart. Not to worry, I told him. Even though the rides are made from cheap plastic, they certainly won't unsnap in the middle of something dangerous.

One of the most interesting parts of Legoland was the area of the models of New York, Las Vegas, Mount Rushmore, San Francisco, The Eiffel Tower, The Taj Mahal, and all sorts of other landmarks and locations. Unlike the rides and some of the food, these are indeed made from legos.

We spent most of the day at the park, and when we were finished, right about the time that park closed, we gathered up our towels (there's a small water parkish type place in the back of Legoland), bags, cameras, and stuff, and headed out to dinner. Dinner tonight:

Fish tacos. We liked them so much, we had them a second night.

Then we left our friends and drove tp LA, which I had thought was just 30 miles up the road (it's really about 120), but the map fooled me because the distance between San Diego and Los Angeles is, pretty much, one long uninterrupted corridor of people and towns and traffic.

We thought we had plenty of time to make it to the American Girl store so Colleen and Megan could get whatever they were getting, and Alex and I could stand around dumbly. I found two American Girl locations for LA on Google Maps - the first one was in Anaheim, which was a close to us, so I navigated us there.

Unfortunately, Google was wrong and we ended up in some weirdo industrial park that was a little scary. We sat in the parking lot of the non-existent American Girl store while I flicked my finger back and forth on my iPhone looking for the other location, which happened to be pretty far away in Beverly Hills.

We drove quickly (as quickly as you can in LA) and made it to the store by 8:50, ten minutes to spare. The girls were happy. Suzanne was happy. Alex and I found a bathroom so we were happy.

And then we had to drive a little more, this time to Redondo beach (for reasons I cannot explain, I kept calling it Renaldo beach) to check into our hotel where we all immediately collapsed from exhaustion.

Tomorrow: LA traffic

Western Expansion Vacation: Day 6

Our friends in San Diego picked us up at our hotel, packed us in all in their gigantic moveable fortress that must, I'm sure, get at least 5 gallons a mile, and then we drove to the Torrey Pines state beach where we did all sorts of beachy things. Now I am not a big fan of the beach because I tend to do idiotic things, such as attempt to build a massive sand castle, all the while forgetting the sun is beating down on my back and turning me into a lobster. Fortunately, this year, I slimed myself with plenty of SPF 10,000 sunscreen, which worked well except for my feet. I had forgotten the tops of my garishly white feet, and now they both sport angry red spots, as if someone had dropped a hot clothes iron on them.

Colleen surfed a little with her boogie board. Megan kept on the hunt for small, weirdly transparent sea creatures, and Alex went to town with a sand castle. Suzanne kept bundled up - a seemingly mild day turned pretty chilly on the shore.

Of course, I was slightly apprehensive about the kids in the ocean because at dinner last night our friends were telling the story of a recent Great White shark attack, close to the very beach we were going to visit. We don't have many of those kinds of shark attacks in Amarillo, Texas.

As an aside, what kind of paranoid parent am I becoming? First I thought the kids would fall into the Grand Canyon and now I was afraid of Jaws. Pretty soon I'll want to lock up Spongebob because of his intimidating scowl.

We had fish tacos for dinner at Rubios. I didn't want to partake in this experimental dinner, mainly because I found the idea of a fish taco repellent. But I went ahead and had one, and you know what? It was good. I mean really good. I'm hooked.

Tomorrow: Legoland

Western Expansion Vacation: Day 5

We've been to quite a few zoos, but never before have we been to one like the San Diego zoo. Immense, gorgeous, amazing - those are simple ways to describe it.

We started with the official zoo tour on a double-decker bus (three adults and six kids, since we were with our friends today). Our driver took us all over the zoo, and since it was the first thing in the morning and nicely cool, most all the animals were awake and scurrying around. We also learned that if you take the different escalators scattered around the zoo, you'll never have to walk uphill (and there were some significant hills).

Highlights: the pandas, the polar bears, the sea lions, and the guy who said this to his wife about the flamingos as they were walking toward their food: "They're migrating. That's what they're doing. My-grating!"

When we were about to ride the Skyfari arial tram from one side of the zoo to the other, we had to dig out our park tickets to prove we had paid the extra secret fee for the ride. I had grabbed a child's ticket instead of an adults', and so I started saying, "Why am I a child?" But it came out in a weirdo South Carolina-type accent, the words blending together so I sounded like this: "Why-my uh shy-uld?" For reasons still unknown to me, the kids found this hilarious, and it became the new catch phrase for the day.

Tomorrow: the beach.

Western Expansion Vacation: Day 4

Five in the morning comes with a bucket of sunshine when you're camping at the Grand Canyon in the summertime. It also wakes up the group of very loud and boisterous campers one tent over. It was as if the Ghost of Christmas Present stormed out of his puny pup tent, scratched his ample tummy, and then gave a great and bellowing baritone "Good morning!" to everyone in the surrounding 500 square mile region.

So we got up pretty early, our only plan being to strike the tent (according to the box, a seven to nine person tent, which really meant a three kids, two adults tent with room for pillows) and head out for California, stopping at Joshua Tree National Park along the way.

But we were cursed with amber glow of the Check Engine light on the dashboard, something the made both Suzanne and me very nervous. Check engine? Check it for what? Would it blow up in the middle of the great expanse of nothingness between Flagstaff and San Diego? That would rank in the category of "bad news."

I read the van's book about the check engine light, and the information it contained was, for the most part, worthless. Well, worthless except this this small gem: "Get to your dealership IMMEDIATELY."

It was in all caps. It must have been important.

We drove back to Flagstaff, 50 miles out of our way, so the Honda dealership could check out what we could not.

The Honda service guy seemed nice enough, but he struck me as if he also sold life insurance on the side and was proud of printing out all sorts of life insurance graphs and charts on his portable color ink jet printer he carried in his glove box.

This is how the conversation went:

Suzanne: Our check engine light is on, and we want to make sure nothing bad is going to happen to the van.
Honda Guy (nodding and smiling): Absolutely. Uh huh! Sure. We'll check it. Can we have the vehicle for the day?
Suzanne: No! We're on our way to San Diego. Can't you just tell us if there's a problem?
Honda Guy: Oh sure. Sure we will! But you know, we've got a lot of people ahead of you today. But we'll check it out.
Suzanne: Can't you just check it out now? Real quick?
Honda Guy: Absolutely! Absolutely! Everyone's on vacation, you see. We'll have it done for you, oh say, before lunch.
Suzanne: What?
Honda Guy: Well, we have to put it up on the lift, you see.
Suzanne: Gah!

They gave us a ride to a restaurant down the road, so we took our time and ate pancakes. Megan wanted some hot tea and asked for some chai. The waitress gave her a long and confused look. And that's when I noticed a garage across the street. A sign outside said, "Is your check engine light on? We'll repair the trouble."

Seriously. They were completely promoting themselves as the check engine light place to be, the very specific thing we needed.

So I took Megan and Alex to Borders bookstore, which was around the corner, and Suzanne took Colleen to pick up the van from the Honda place and take it to this other garage instead. But, miraculously, the Honda place had, by then, investigated our check engine light problem and declared it to be insignificant for now, neglecting to call us with the good news. So they washed the car, charged us $100, and set us on our way.

We changed our plan, realizing by now we were out of time to visit Joshua Tree, so we went south to Phoenix, where it was close to 3000 degrees, and then we jumped on highway 8, skirting the Mexico border and driving into California. We did stop once to have a picnic in the middle of somewhere excruciatingly hot, and all we could talk about was what would Bear from the TV show "Man Versus Wild" do out here. Then we all stupidly placed our palms on some rocks that had been baking around the picnic area and fried our hands.

And soon, past Sugarloaf mountain, the In-Ko-Pah Gorge, the Anza-Borrego Desert State park and Viejas Mountain, we arrived in San Diego, where we were very excited to see a giant Honda dealership, just in case. From the freeway, it looked like it even had modern air conditioning.

Tomorrow: The Zoo.