30.05.09 - Moab to Flagstaff

  Flagstaff, Arizona, United States
Saturday, May 30, 2009

Fully loaded with bagels, cream cheese and eggs we set off into the desert towards Flagstaff, Arizona - a journey which would take us through Monument Valley.  En route, we passed through Blanding (even the name doesn't really conjure expectations of greatness) and our decision to stay in Moab was justified based on the sparsity of anything except for trailers and gas stations. 

Monument Valley approach - breathtaking

The road and views as you head to Monument Valley are outstanding - long, straight highway rolling dead straight towards the pointed red peaks of the monuments in the distance.  It probably goes without saying that it's a jaw-dropping spectacle (certainly better than the north circular or suchlike) though Greg was doing his best to ruin the occasion by playing Counting Crows before reedeming himself at the last minute by switching to The Cure. 

The highway affords pretty good views of the main monuments but you get a much closer look if you pay to enter the Navajo park and drive the 1 hour dirt track which, at $10 a go, would have been a little daft to turn down.  The whole native Indian/Navajo dynamic is one that I really couldn't quite unravel in my head (nor should I be expected to given the length and convolution of their tragic modern history) - I suppose the heart of the paradox was that, without the revenue from tourism, they'd struggle to make a living but at the same time if it wasn't for people like us they wouldn't be dependent in any way on that tourism. 

The Valley - even better from up close

With my brain on a moral spin-cycle, I went about the business of sightseeing but maintained a manner and demeanour of maxiumum respect peppered with a sliver of shame.  On a more childish note, one of the (particularly rotund) Indians in the visitor centre had the fattest 'back of the neck' I'd ever witnessed - not great for the cholesterol but on the plus side, probably quite useful for getting comfortable to sleep on long haul flights.

The dirt track is exactly that and we were slightly paranoid about how much damage we'd do to the Mustang.  As per yesterday, breaking down would not be a good way to end the day.  In the end we made it round though most of the interior of the car was covered in red sand to such an extent that we may need to either get it valeted before San Francisco or just drive through a thunderstorm with the roof down and hope for the best. 

Japanese Tourists - undeterred by plague

We managed to get some great pictures, though at one point we got completely mobbed by a bus of Japanese tourists, our marignal sense of irk being massaged by amusing requests for photos with the old Japanese ladies and the blokes getting so excited about the car that they could probably cancel their next viagra order.

Arriving through a thunderstorm (in the desert!) to Flagstaff, Arizona we managed to journey a little down the infamous (though apparently now defunct) Route 66 before arriving at the hotel.  There was a wedding reception in progress which we mistook for a prom night based on the age of attendees - however apparently tying the knot at 18 is the norm down here.  Perusal of the guide books yielded a recommendation to visit The Beaver Street Brewery for top notch beer and food.  Only a mile as the crow flies, we set out on foot and drew gobsmacked stare after stare from drivers based on the fact that we were prepared to walk anywhere.  This is a common theme across the states and pedestrians are simply not catered for.  Furthermore, this and the piss poor taxi service (outside the big cities) most definitely contributes to the amount of drink driving that undoubtedly occurs out here.  Our trek into downtown took us across the rail lines - though we had to wait approximately 10 minutes for a train longer than a scouse dole queue to pass by,  The Beaver did not disappoint - despite a 15 minute wait for a table (made all the more bearable by beer and the trivial pursuit cards on the bar) we got served our sausage platters (complete with braised red cabbage - one of the most underrated foods in existence) in good time. 

In an attempt to play a couple of frames of pool, we went to the sister bar next door but were refused entry as, apparently, state law is that the only acceptable foreign IDs are passports, thus rendering our drivers licenses obsolete.  We were therefore forced to make a swift return trip to the hotel via a taxi (with a particularly bitter and miserable taxi driver - a universal constant!) before we could have our next beer.  We tried a couple of average bars then ended up in the Green Room where they had a live band and music which actually turned out to be quite decent - especially as the bar staff from the Beaver Brewery turned up, recognised us and then introduced us to 'Greyhounds' (vodka and grapefruit) which resulted in us being more drunk than anticipated.  Related to the earlier point regarding drink driving, this lot all departed on bicycles leaving us time to squeeze in a quick nightcap at the Monte Christo bar around the corner before a taxi back to the Radisson.

Day Eleven Stats:
Mileage - 320 (3410 total)
State registration plates seen - 0 (47 total, still...)
States visited - Utah, Arizona