May 31, 2001: Simply Grand… Escape from LA, Part 2

Thursday, May 31, 2001: Simply Grand

It was time to get up and get moving, but by letting Maggie slip under the covers and curl up, we were able to grab a few more minutes’ rest. Lying there returning to our senses, all the great memories were just cobwebs; the focus was all about getting on the road. All the last junk was piled near the door soon enough, and we made it to Budget by seven, just after they’d opened, to get Dad registered to drive the truck. We were among the first customers in our favorite breakfast spot on the planet (thanks Alan and Fran!) and added BJ (Big Jim) to the long list of immediate family members who have traveled the country to eat there with us. Anyway, that was the last of LA. We got back to our place, loaded the car and pulled away. Ventura Boulevard to the 405 North entrance, merged onto the 101 South ramp, and left a very happy time in our lives behind us. 101 to 134, past Glendale where we’d first landed… and on toward San Bernardino. According to plan, BJ was driving the truck, towing Beth’s car, and we stuck pretty close in our Montero, navigating through the dense traffic and using our walkie-talkies sparingly. Once finally up to speed out past 210 East on Interstate 10, Beth admitted she was finally “excited.” Before that, there was too much work to be done to prepare, but at last, the trip was underway and we were up-to-speed.

As on our previous trip, the cats each received a vet-prescribed sedative on this morning about 30 minutes before departure time; and just as before, the improvement on their dispositions almost seemed to warrant full-time sedation (just kidding, of course). This is the way they “see the country” — doped-up inside their carriers, looking through their blankets out their wire-doors at each other via the thinnest of eye slits. And at the ends of days, we learned before that they’ll get a little exercise slinking around our hotel rooms all night before meeting in a close curl under the bed that’s almost impossible to reach once the ritual is set to begin again the next morning. Needless to say, they never admit to the “cuddling up together” thing….

We made our way to the 15, then followed it north into the mountains above San Bernardino. The smog plus “June gloom” was at its worst, and back in LA we’d already shared several laughs with BJ about the mountains “just over there” which couldn’t been seen. We were soon clear of the smog, but then it was the mountains themselves that became a little unappealing, as the Budget truck towing our car slowed to 35 mph trying to crest the worst of them. On we all steered to I-40 East, working through the mountains, at last, to the first fuel stop 160 miles out of Los Angeles, somewhere near the beginning of the Mojave Desert. Our Montero has a temp gauge for the outside; just before the first stop, we’d watched that gauge climb to 110. After filling-up, BJ figured the moving truck’s gas mileage at 7 miles per gallon, and the Mobil station we’d picked added insult to injury: $2.20 per gallon for diesel, and $2.40 per gallon for regular unleaded. We all had a good laugh over the receipt, proving perhaps that the smog had done is work….

Beth titled this photo, “the last time we saw BJ.”
We more or less fearless travelers ventured on, though, and as we approached the Arizona border, Beth and I decided to break off to go view the Grand Canyon, and with BJ’s encouragement, we barreled ahead to get as far ahead of him as possible, so that we could check-out the spectacle and, hopefully, catch him on the other side of Flagstaff later that night. The exit for the Grand Canyon National Park appeared to us before about 3pm Pacific time, and we’d reached the park by 4 or so.

By the time we paid our $20 and actually gazed down into the canyon for the first time, we felt it had pretty much lived up to its reputation. We took some snaps that, like these words, don’t do justice, but together with our memories they represent the Grand Canyon to us. One photo not to miss is the one of Beth’s belly with the GC in the background; this of course is our photo of Amelia with the Grand Canyon. We SO entertain ourselves.

Then we left, heading south out of the park the way we’d gone in, and eventually we turned off to highway 180, a red line on our map proceeding straight to the southeast to Flagstaff. Perhaps twenty miles into that route, the countryside had become green and lush; the elevation was around 7,000 feet.

Passing through hills that reminded us of the best of Malibu Creek State Park, I was suddenly struck with the place’s remarkable beauty. Magic hour had begun, with the sun sinking to spread a golden glow over everything. The roadside areas opened up to be more flat, with mature forest of solid pine trees and many years’ worth of debris in clumps.

It bears mention that by this time, after having seen probably twenty signs warning for “elk,” I had already worn elk-spotting humor far too thin. In the waning light, I strained my eyes, and saw one! Then Beth saw a huge one standing just off in the distance, through the trees. We looped the Montie around — there were no other vehicles in sight, and none came until after we’d messed around scaring a whole herd of elk off, trying to photograph them and finally moved on toward Flagstaff about five minutes later.

You’ll love the pictures, and the others from the rest of the drive to Flagstaff, which is as far as we made it that first day. Flagstaff, and the area northwest toward the state park, are now notched extremely high on our list of wonderful places in the world. Thanks, Dad, for making it possible on this trip. Oh and speaking of Dad, will we catch him on day two?

Love — Roger, Beth, cats, Amelia-to-be

Escape from LA by Roger Darnell
. Countdown: Wednesday, May 30, 2001 – The Countdown Begins
. Day 1: Thursday, May 31, 2001 – Simply Grand
. Day 2: Friday, June 1, 2001 – Catching Up
. Day 3: Saturday, June 2, 2001 – Almost There
. Day 4: Sunday, June 3, 2001 – Home At Last…