Side Dish: "The Thing" - Dragoon, AZ

For many, there are the Great Pyramids of Egypt, Machu Picchu in Peru, or the iconic statues of Easter Island. For others, Paris, London, and Rome set the heart a-flutter, beckoning weary travelers with their mystery, romance, and historical heft. All are well and good in their own way, but here and now, land-locked and fearing air travel as if it were not the most statistically safe mode of transport, we have the blissful roadside attraction. Where giant wooden bears, balls of twine, and houses of mud speak to the inner idiot in us all, American Style. While we have yet to close the book on this obsessive quest to see the garish, the silly, and the absurd, we have, with The Thing, seen the best. Or at least the most popular. Outside of Wall Drug in South Dakota, no slice of Americana advertises itself so shamelessly, all but forcing drivers at gunpoint to inspect its wares. What is it? Who is it? And why are there 247 eye-catching billboards over 200 sun-soaked miles of Southwestern highway, each successive claim more desperate than the rest?

But if you're coming to Willcox, AZ, or have spent any time in Tombstone, you'll stop at The Thing, well, because you must. I can't imagine anyone passing this little shop and not being driven mad with regret. As such, it's the most brilliantly advertised piece of schlock in the known universe, as no one wants to be that one person who caved to common sense. Will it be disappointing? Hell yes, but would you expect anything less? If curiosity killed the cat, curiosity about worthless crap killed every gullible man and woman who thought nothing of plunking down four shiny quarters to witness Armageddon. The parking lot full, and the man behind the counter predictably grizzled and tight-lipped, we fell into line like lambs at the slaughter. I've never felt so incredibly stupid and yet so privileged, all at the same time.

Following the handy yellow footprints into worlds unknown, we passed the strangest collection of junk, trash, and odds-n-ends not found on an episode of Hoarders. For every Wooden Indian, there was a piece of rusty farm equipment, defying gawkers to explain how a covered wagon was best explained by its proximity to a 1937 Rolls Royce that allegedly belonged to Hitler. For doubters, there's a wooden dummy of the Fuhrer right inside, peering out the back window as if sentient and struck dumb by the fall from grace as Europe's top madman to sideshow bearded lady. Scenes of torture abound, as if to prove that the maniac who runs the place was some kind of horror movie stock character who led dopey tourists to their doom, like something out of the House of Wax.

Pressing on, one encounters more scupltures, glass cases of "prized" specimens that range from plastic to papier mache, and even more bizarre odes to human depravity. At that moment, the guessing game begins - are we about to watch a murder? Was there a snuff film at the end of this psychotic maze, or at the very least, some kind of rotting animal carcass that rubbed our noses in shame? It could be anything - a piece of furniture with a nasty legacy ("Here sat John Smith as rabid bats jabbed at his eyes"), a pile of dung in the shape of the Holy Virgin, or even some sacred garment from centuries past. All this for a lousy dollar? Nothing else on earth can be had so cheaply, and most of the time, we pay ten times that amount to be thoroughly bored. Hell, at this point, I'll accept anything not some crazed mountain man behind a curtain, ready to launch buckshot at my face.

And then you arrive. The footprints, so damned inviting and ticklish, stopped at last. The above box, like some twisted sarcophagus from the devil's bowels, was all that stood between us and what remained of our sanity. Dare we look in? What could be behind that glass? Is it......could it be.......was that really.........

B-b-b-b-u-u..........


Oh my gggg.........................

(cough). I see. A mummy? The corpse of a Vietcong, brought back by a Travis Bickle-type who couldn't stifle the gunfire? Who knows? And don't ask the man behind the counter, because he's not talking. I know what you're thinking - an empty coffin wouldn't have been half as bad, for at least then you could rationalize the experience as some kind of postmodern joke. I knew this was a waste of time, yet I hated having my time wasted. Couldn't they at least have stashed Hitler in there, locked in some bizarre embrace with the shell of a mummified farmer? None of it matters. You came, you saw, and you left a buck poorer; more so, if you purchased any of the three dozen Thing-inspired trinkets, from shot glasses to bottled water. All at once, it hits home. "The Thing" is America itself; a doomed journey through various stages that make little sense, all in the hope of leaving better off than when you started. Only there's some dead dude under glass standing in your way. There's always something.

Paradise by Shuttle Bus: Zion Nat'l Park 5/23/10

Zion National Park is, above all, one of America's densest concentrations of natural beauty. Unexplored backcountry aside (and it will remain forever such, as you undoubtedly know), the park itself lacks the sprawling, never-see-it-in-a-day breadth of Yellowstone, and is far from the incomprehensible vastness of the Grand Canyon. Instead, it's a tightly packed, easily accessible wonderland of staggering landscapes, made perfect by the Zion Canyon Scenic Drive, one of the park service's most brilliant couplings of crowd control and common sense. Guests must leave their cars at the visitor center (or at several locations before the entrance, depending on how busy it is), which not only relieves congestion, but allows visitors to take a leisurely ride on any number of shuttle buses that are a constant, yet unobtrusive, presence. One can get on and off at any point, take a walk, catch the next bus, hop off once again, and repeat the process as often as one likes. As such, there's no rush or pressure of any kind, empowering the tourist as never before. Who says that the government can't run a tight ship?

As for the visitor center, it was a madhouse, the last real place where one must, by necessity, feel overwhelmed. That said, we pulled a Lost in America and got a prime space right up close, a move which infuriated dozens. After securing the stamp, we set off for greener pastures, but not before using the world's most spectacular hand-dryer. Where has America been hiding this thing? It damn near sucked the skin from my hands, yet left not a drop of moisture. It's the best gadget to cross my lap since the internet. There's a Zion Human History Museum stop almost immediately, but we decided to skip it and the 22-minute orientation film contained therein. We're normally pretty faithful to the park videos, but what were they going to tell us, that Angels Landing kills more people per year than lightning, and only the insane dare give it a go? We'd stick to the eye candy for now. The next stop was Canyon Junction, where one could see the Altar of Sacrifice and The Sentinel, two 7000-and-change foot peaks that stagger the imagination. Yeah, it's a religious revival, but perhaps in a place called Zion you expected something else? It should not be surprising that the area is known as the Towers of the Virgin, and no, not the pasty and nerdy variety.

The next stop allows one to stare straight into the heart of the Court of the Patriarchs, arguably the site's most popular image. As usual, a blue sky enhances everything before you, and the contrast of colors - sky, rock, earth - is as good as anywhere in the entire park system. The Emerald Pools Trails are next (near the Zion Lodge, where we fought like tigers to get some water and peanuts), followed by The Grotto and Weeping Rock, which is a 1/2 mile trail culminating in a large alcove with slippery moss. It is said that visitors can expect to get wet, but we were content from afar, turning aside from the moderate climb in favor of a well-earned rest. Curiously, Zion is the perfect park for the crabby and the lazy alike, as it's enough to look up and around to take it all in. Yeah, one could light out for The Narrows, but why walk waist-deep in cold water? We have no illusions of challenging nature's supremacy, so why embark on a fool's errand? We're lookers, not doers, and no apologies are necessary. I'm getting my quota of fresh air, so get off my back, do-gooder.

The last stop on the shuttle tour is the Temple of Sinawava, which gives those on the ground the best possible view of the maniacs atop Angels Landing. This is where a man feels most insignificant, and it's an exhilirating experience. Alas, no one fell for our entertainment, but we could always give the loop another whirl. Cutting through this glorious canyon is the Virgin River, which provides the perfect backdrop for a moment's pause or, in our case, a moment's munching. Several moments.

Before I forget, don't you forget to spend a little time in Kolob Canyons, which is much more than the bastard child of Zion proper. It's up the road a piece closer to Cedar City, but the Kolob Canyons Road provides a spectacular drive, even if we caught it with the morning's haze still not yet burned away. There's a second stamp here, thankfully, and one helluva backcountry. In many ways, that's the appeal here, as much of Kolob's better sights (Kolob Arch, for one) are inaccessible from the road. No matter, as regardless of your level of commitment, this is the preferred way to start your Zion experience. It's good, but not quite enough, whetting your appetitie for the main course to come.

FINAL RATING

9/10

Bad Luck Comes in Threes: Salinas Pueblo Missions National Monument 12/20/09

December is an underrated time of the year to travel. The crowds have dispersed, the sun no longer bakes the energy out of you, and the sky is often a perfect blue. Much to our pleasure, in December of 2009, we were welcomed with all three as we departed our favorite Albuquerque hotel (we know we travel quite a bit when the front desk person says "The Cales are back!" upon arrival....). Salinas Pueblo Missions National Monument is sweetly tucked behind the Sandia mountain range, but are a brief drive from Albuquerque. After turning off in the pit of Belen, NM, the scenery took a beautiful turn for the better as we headed for the entrance to the first of three monument stops of the day.

These three mission ruins sites are distinctly different, as the stones used for each were dependant on the area they were built upon. Here, in the 17th century, the Ancestral Puebloans again were living their lives happily until the clueless Spaniards once again came in, attempted to turn them from Heathens to Christians, and forced themselves upon the land building three missions. As beautiful as each of the sites are, one cannot help to feel the plight of the Natives. There are other pueblo ruins present on the sites, but the missions loom largest as though the larger the space built, the more devout the builders and inhabitants should become.

The Ruins at Abo is the first stop for any visitor coming due east, and is on a turnout so hidden, we had to double back the first time we drove by. This small site, was established in approximately 1598 and at one time, housed over 2,000 inhabitants. Considering the size of this ruin, this is an impressive number indeed. The ruin is easily traversed in less than ten minutes.

Salinas Pueblo Missions is an ideal location for Passport Stamp enthusiasts. Each ruin has its own visitor center and stamp, and the monument headquarters are located in the central town of Mountainair, NM.

That is...........if the visitor centers are open.

Our first horror-filled moment of the day came when Matt sauntered up with the passport book at Abo, only to find the door locked. He pressed his nose against the glass and yelled in a distressed voice, "I can see the stamp right there!! Why is there no one monitoring the site??" The sign on the door stated that the person would return in 15 minutes, and was time-stamped at 9:00......It was now 10:00 and there was not a soul in sight. We waited, knowing that retrieving this stamp would be impossible via mail, and decided to brave the elements (although cloudless, it was 35 degrees that morning). Finally, when the wait became too long, we decided to proceed to Mountainair with words prepared for the ranger on duty.

The Mountainair Visitor Center serves as the central location for all three ruin sites. You can find information about the different stones used, along with the differing tribes that fell subject to Spanish interference. We picked up our stamp (along with a beautiful 100 years special stamp) and asked the ranger about Abo not being open.

The ranger explained that staffing and budget cuts force all three of the visitor centers to be open on an "At Will" basis. Basically.....when the ranger can make it there, they will. When not possible.......screw your chance for a stamp (and licking the window won't help). He mentioned that he thought, "Maybe...there might be someone at Abo in about an hour, but I cain't say for sure". Great.

We decided to bury our sorrow and head to the second mission ruin, Gran Quivira. This ruins site is the most remote of the three, but is so striking in its difference to Abo and Quarai, that the drive absolutely needs to be taken.

Gran Quivira was inhabited from 1370 through 1670 by the Tompiro Puebloans. By far, the largest of the three ruins, it too housed over 2,000 people, before and after those pesky Spaniards showed up again. The scope of the site is amazing. Upon exiting the car, we decided to get the stamp first before exploring the ruins, so let's just go into the visitor.........LOCKED.

Not again.

We shook our heads and started to laugh, as the Mountainair ranger assured us that Gran Quivira was staffed. We did a silent meditation that the ranger would some how appear by osmosis after our exploration of the ruin. A long wheelchair accessible planked walkway headed up the back of the ruins and brought the visitor to the center of the site.

Gran Quivira is large and exceptionally impressive. The grey stone used provided a contrast against the rolling hills, and each room was quite well preserved.

Pottery shards (in exquisite black and white patterns) were visible in almost every room as you walked along the dirt path. As the years continue on, these pieces of everyday life come floating to the surface with every visitors footprint, or torrential downpour. The temptation to pick up these pieces of history is overwhelming, but we aim to protect these national treasures and leave everything as it lies.

The wind had picked up considerably as the exposed hills offered little shelter. Two other visitors joined us at the top of the ruins, but we essentially had this large site to ourselves.

We headed back down the walkway and tried the visitor center door again......No dice. This was getting a bit depressing. We both retreated to our respective restrooms, and upon exiting, much to our delight, the NPS ranger was visible inside the small window. He informed us that much of Gran Quivira has never been excavated, so the treasures that lie beneath have only yet to be discovered.

This kind man also alerted us to the fact that he believed that Abo was indeed now open as he had just spoken to the person on site. Operation Abo Stamp was now back in full effect. After the 55-mile backtrack, we happened upon Abo again. The door was indeed open, and a teenager was manning the desk. This child appeared to have been just woken up from his mid-morning nap, and completely puzzled us why he was there in the first place......But alas, the stamp was obtained.

Passing Mountainair once more, we headed to the last of the three sites, the ruins at Quarai. Tucked away behind a small residential neighborhood (if you could call it that....dirt roads and a few trailers here and there), lies the best of the Salinas Pueblo Missions ruins. Visible from the small highway, Quarai looms large and impressive in the distance.

Along the flanks of the Manzano mountains, the Spanish Franciscan mission church of La Purisima Concepcion (1630) is the most complete example of the larger Salinas churches. The small trail from the visitor center to the ruins is wonderful and the views spectacular. But about that Quarai stamp, let's just open the......LOCKED.

We resigned our fates at this point. It was evident to us that something was awry this beautiful December day. The sign on the door stated that the ranger was out to lunch. Of course he was. We began to think that each site was alerting the next to tell them of the Cales impending arrival and locking the doors out of spite.

But much to our delight.....we met some fellow Stampers. A couple were noticed peering through the window with a worried look upon their faces, much like ours. We quickly struck up a conversation about our travels, which segued into talk on the most remote stamp received, the best stamp in the book, the hardest to obtain stamp, etc., etc. These people got us. We shared the same passion for not only the sites of the National Park System, but the unrelenting obsession and drive to get you to the next site. They introduced us to a newer obsession for us - the State Capitols book. When the gentleman retreated to the car excitedly yelling, "DO YOU COLLECT STATE CAPITOLS???", I said (after seeing the gleam in Matt's eye), "We do now".

Lunch obviously was going to take a bit longer in the New Mexico winter, so we decided to explore the Quarai grounds. This ruin is quite simply, spectacular. The walls, still intact, reflecting the shadows of the day make for a blissful walk.

The trail winds around the ruins and near the stream that supported the lives here for hundreds of years. In the winter, the trees were bare, but the view no less inspiring.

We saw our fellow Stamp fanatics literally running towards the Visitor Center, which led us to the realization that the ranger finished his 25 Subway sandwiches, and we were able to secure the final stamp of the day. Our visit to Salinas took us approximately 2 1/2 hours longer than we anticipated, due to the closing of the sites at various times, which highlighted the need for more money and resources to been given to the National Park Service sites. New Visitor Centers are popping up all over the nation, which is splendid, but without the manpower to staff these sites, the American public will pay the price.

FINAL RATING

7.5/10

Off-Roading: Chaco Culture Nat'l Historical Park 11/7/09

It's the dilemma for the ages - How does the NPS ensure safety and convenience for its visitors, yet simultaneously preserve the authenticity of the experience? We all want to see that "one great spot" or capture the picture of a lifetime, yet just as often, we're asked to endure the unendurable to achieve the very same.  And after all, if it were easy, why would anyone bother? Chaco Culture National Historical Park is a case study in this very issue, as it succeeds wildly in its desire to take pilgrims back into the past, yet it offers no quarter for those seeking refuge from difficulty. This is a place no one comes to by accident or after taking the wrong turn; you want to be here, and once you embark, there's no going back. Before you even get to the money shot of ruins and beautiful isolation, you must hit the road - by road, I mean a 20-mile dirt path that would be all-too-familiar to Neil Armstrong. We were equipped with a bloated Dodge Ram, and we still damn near flew off the road. It's a bump-filled, slippery, rollercoaster ride of utter madness, and every thirty seconds we questioned our sanity. Would it be worth it? Would our tires survive? Will we have to enlist the aid of a tow truck? That last chance gas station near the turnoff never seemed so far away.

Once you reach the above sign, you're home at last. The unpassable rock quarry that passes for a road behind us, we saw only pavement ahead, and those glorious, mysterious ruins. At that moment (and after one last curse for the dirt path, as if we didn't have to go back the same way), you realize that yes, it has to be this way. Instead of a sign keeping out the rabble, the NPS has erected the next best thing. Casual travelers are kept to a minimum, and throughout your stay, you can nod, smile knowingly, and share the same sense of accomplishment with the remaining veterans. As a true destination spot, this is the exact opposite of the roadside attraction, lending the area a dignity that would remain impossible with larger crowds and easier access. And dignity is only the beginning. Sure, a cloudless, mild day is always the best way to travel, but this is as close as one can get to spending a few hours in the bosom of history. There's a quiet, almost eerie presence at work, and it's no stretch to believe you are the very first to discover these ancient monuments to a now-vanished people. Their age (inhabited around 850 to 1250) lends them power, but they're in such remarkably good condition that they become truly timeless.

The official story, that Chaco was "a hub of ceremony, trade, and administration for the prehistoric Four Corners area", is apt, as all other ancestral ruins come back to the canyon's stark beauty. This was, as another source once described, the Las Vegas of the ancient world, where people from miles around came to interact in a manner altogether different from daily life. It was a massive, multi-faceted shopping mall of sorts, where the specifics of the culture reached their pinnacle of expression. To know what these people held dear, we look to Chaco. Additionally, the genius of ancient architecture has rarely been so effortlessly expressed, as these structures are no mere lean-tos or hastily produced barriers from the elements. The planning, engineering, labor, and administration (shipment of materials to this site alone boggles the mind, as these people had only their feet to carry them) are truly world class, and further study has proven numerous astrological connections as well. In other words, structures required celestial knowledge that spanned the generations, all in an age before blueprints and recording equipment. Any way you slice it, these were remarkable people indeed.

The main event, of course, is Pueblo Bonito, the largest of Chaco's Great Houses. From any angle, it's a massive complex of rooms, kivas, windows, and trails, not the least bit compromised by the January 1941 collapse of a section of the canyon wall that destroyed numerous rooms and a rear wall. The walk on, in, and among Bonito's beauty is as giddy as you're likely to feel in a collapsed building. There's no such thing as a bad picture here, and it's best to come when we did (as the sun is close to setting), providing great shadows and playful movements of light. Interestingly, though there are a decent number of tourists, it's all very respectful, lacking the usual screeching and wailing other sites feature in spades.

The other great house is Pueblo del Arroyo, which is 5 1/2 miles from the visitor center (the whole Canyon Loop Drive is around 9 miles). Again, this spot recognized our need to examine every last element of the walls, doors, and living space, allowing for contemplation as to its differences from the bigger Bonito. Were different classes assigned here? Were the rituals less vital to the community as a whole? All are questions that will remain only partially answered, but Chaco is the sort of place where debates take hold. What, for example, took place at Hungo Pavi, the first stop on the tour, and what mysteries remain (as it is unexcavated)?

Less striking, of course, is the visitor center. The NPS apparently agrees, as it has torn it down in favor of new construction. We spent little time there (we got the stamp and got moving, as the day was fading away), and on April 1st of 2010, a temporary site was put up until the new facility is completed. The park's website says that until then, no film or exhibits will be available, which (we can assume) is not entirely a bad thing. Most of the films we have seen that deal with the Ancestral Pueblo people are trippy, spiritual nonsense, focusing on romance and allure, and not at all on hard history. We can only hope that the ribbon cutting in the years ahead will be accompanied by a more enlightened exhibition of the past. Perhaps it doesn't matter, though, as what on earth is going to compete with the ruins themselves?

As we left (Brooke drove out of the park and for some reason, the ruts didn't seem so deep this time), we left satisfied, almost as if we had been special guests, not dopey tourists. And as the sun set, and the drive back to Albuquerque stretched on and on (did we mention Chaco's isolation?), we rested in the satisfaction that we had seen an American landmark - worth preserving, worth visiting, and yes, worth a return trip.

FINAL RATING

9.9/10 *(forgive us, but our tire went kaput not too long after the visit, and yes, I blame the dirt road)