1989--The Grand Canyon
Day One---April 12, 1989
Preamble or Pre-ramble as the case maybe
February 7th of 1989 saw the birth of our 2nd daughter, Jessica Mae. Margo and I had planned to take a trip to the Grand Canyon after she was born. We decided that at 9 weeks Jessi would be old enough for her first trip, and the weather would be warm enough to go. So that was what we planned. We had bought a pop up camper with the idea of using it for our vacations for years to come. This would be it’s maiden voyage. The camper would be pulled by our 1974 Chevy Nova. I drove that car back and forth to work. It had a V-8 and was reliable. But it looked like hell.
And if having a new baby, a 4 year old, and a brand new camper wasn’t enough for one trip, we decided that I would have my ( the faint of heart should now stick fingers in their ears and say LaLaLaLaLa) vasectomy right before we leave. I only had two weeks of vacation at that time, and I threw boxes for a living in the warehouse where I worked. I needed to take a week off just to heal. And since I had taken a week off when Jessi was born, I had just the one week left for both healing and vacationing. The doctor said he was OK with it, so with this final piece in place we had done about all we could do to guarantee a lousy time.
Our whole first day was going to be spent driving. We left Brighton, after topping off the tank and picking up a few last minute snacks, sometime around 6 AM in the Nova, towing our brand new pop up camper. We stopped at Dillon, CO, just past the Eisenhower Tunnel on I-70, where it had been snowing a little. Snow in the Colorado mountains, in April is normal. We had been praying for good weather, because a blizzard was as likely to happen as not. The snow was not why we pulled over, though. We pulled over to rearrange. When you travel with kids, you have to rearrange things. It’s the law. Later I would later curse this stop, but I didn’t know it yet.
When we stopped in Grand Junction, CO for gas, a couple of hours later, I discovered my wallet was missing. We were in something short of a panic. Margo had most of the cash in her purse, so we could continue with the trip. But my driver's license and credit cards were gone. We looked everywhere and when we couldn’t find it, I were sure that it was sitting beside the road back near the Eisenhower Tunnel, 170 miles ago. We had just resigned ourselves to calling the credit card companies to cancel the cards, when Margo found it. It was in her big bag. When she went to look for her copy of the credit cards to get the phone number, and there it was. She had put it there when I handed it to her after getting gas way back in Brighton.
With wallet in hand and feeling we had had our big hiccup of the trip, we were back on the road. The girls were behaving marvelously. Jolene has always handled road trips well. We would take games, books, and such for her to amuse herself and she would be perfectly content to play with them or sleep. She rarely asked the dreaded “Are we there, yet” question, and would go to the bathroom at each stop without a hassle. That’s a rule on a Kretzer Road Trip. If the car stops, you pee. Never pass up the chance. We were a bit worried about Jessi. But we needed have. She slept most of the time and fussed very little. I don't think she cried more than a few seconds at anyone stretch.
We drove all the way to Hanksville, UT before we stopped again. At Hanksville is a gas station called Hollow Mountain. It has a pump area and then the convenience store portion of the business is built right into the side of the mountain. Pretty cool looking. It has a regular double glass front door. I would imagine that it took some precise work to get both the opening and the doors close enough in fit, to make that work. Gassed up and on our way, we were at Bullfrog Marina, on the NE side of Lake Powell about an hour and a half later. It was roughly 4 PM
February 7th of 1989 saw the birth of our 2nd daughter, Jessica Mae. Margo and I had planned to take a trip to the Grand Canyon after she was born. We decided that at 9 weeks Jessi would be old enough for her first trip, and the weather would be warm enough to go. So that was what we planned. We had bought a pop up camper with the idea of using it for our vacations for years to come. This would be it’s maiden voyage. The camper would be pulled by our 1974 Chevy Nova. I drove that car back and forth to work. It had a V-8 and was reliable. But it looked like hell.
And if having a new baby, a 4 year old, and a brand new camper wasn’t enough for one trip, we decided that I would have my ( the faint of heart should now stick fingers in their ears and say LaLaLaLaLa) vasectomy right before we leave. I only had two weeks of vacation at that time, and I threw boxes for a living in the warehouse where I worked. I needed to take a week off just to heal. And since I had taken a week off when Jessi was born, I had just the one week left for both healing and vacationing. The doctor said he was OK with it, so with this final piece in place we had done about all we could do to guarantee a lousy time.
Our whole first day was going to be spent driving. We left Brighton, after topping off the tank and picking up a few last minute snacks, sometime around 6 AM in the Nova, towing our brand new pop up camper. We stopped at Dillon, CO, just past the Eisenhower Tunnel on I-70, where it had been snowing a little. Snow in the Colorado mountains, in April is normal. We had been praying for good weather, because a blizzard was as likely to happen as not. The snow was not why we pulled over, though. We pulled over to rearrange. When you travel with kids, you have to rearrange things. It’s the law. Later I would later curse this stop, but I didn’t know it yet.
When we stopped in Grand Junction, CO for gas, a couple of hours later, I discovered my wallet was missing. We were in something short of a panic. Margo had most of the cash in her purse, so we could continue with the trip. But my driver's license and credit cards were gone. We looked everywhere and when we couldn’t find it, I were sure that it was sitting beside the road back near the Eisenhower Tunnel, 170 miles ago. We had just resigned ourselves to calling the credit card companies to cancel the cards, when Margo found it. It was in her big bag. When she went to look for her copy of the credit cards to get the phone number, and there it was. She had put it there when I handed it to her after getting gas way back in Brighton.
With wallet in hand and feeling we had had our big hiccup of the trip, we were back on the road. The girls were behaving marvelously. Jolene has always handled road trips well. We would take games, books, and such for her to amuse herself and she would be perfectly content to play with them or sleep. She rarely asked the dreaded “Are we there, yet” question, and would go to the bathroom at each stop without a hassle. That’s a rule on a Kretzer Road Trip. If the car stops, you pee. Never pass up the chance. We were a bit worried about Jessi. But we needed have. She slept most of the time and fussed very little. I don't think she cried more than a few seconds at anyone stretch.
We drove all the way to Hanksville, UT before we stopped again. At Hanksville is a gas station called Hollow Mountain. It has a pump area and then the convenience store portion of the business is built right into the side of the mountain. Pretty cool looking. It has a regular double glass front door. I would imagine that it took some precise work to get both the opening and the doors close enough in fit, to make that work. Gassed up and on our way, we were at Bullfrog Marina, on the NE side of Lake Powell about an hour and a half later. It was roughly 4 PM
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We arrived at Lake Powell and set up the Pop Up. It was at this time that I began to cuss anew, our stop in Dillon. When I had opened up the pop up to get something I flipped on a light. This switch had the ability to turn on two lights, either one at a time, or both at the same time. I chose both at the same time. I was happy I could just find the switch. Light One illuminated the floor of the very enclosed, unpopped, camper, so I could find what I was looking for. Light Two did nothing, as it was squashed against the canvas folds of one side of the camper. That was OK, I didn’t need it. I also didn’t shut it off. I got back in the car and headed west. So as we drove the light was being powered by the alternator on the Nova. So it burned brightly for another 6 hours. “Burned” being the operative word. The heat the bulb generated melted the plastic cover and burned through two layers of canvas.
I was lucky there was no fire. But for some reason I wasn’t dwelling on how lucky I was. I two holes right over my bed. But, we made the best of it. I had JB Weld in my tool box, and we cannibalized some heavy plastic that we kept the camper dishes in. With those two components I created a teeny tiny sky light, and we blew off the incident from that point.
Afterwards Jolene and I went off to try to fish. It is best to fish Lake Powell from a boat. I didn't know that and it was too late to even think of renting one. Plus the wind was blowing pretty good. Fishing in the wind sucks. It is zero fun. It is less than zero fun if you are getting no bites. We weren’t. So without even a nibble to brag about we went back to the camper to tell Margo of our luck.
I was lucky there was no fire. But for some reason I wasn’t dwelling on how lucky I was. I two holes right over my bed. But, we made the best of it. I had JB Weld in my tool box, and we cannibalized some heavy plastic that we kept the camper dishes in. With those two components I created a teeny tiny sky light, and we blew off the incident from that point.
Afterwards Jolene and I went off to try to fish. It is best to fish Lake Powell from a boat. I didn't know that and it was too late to even think of renting one. Plus the wind was blowing pretty good. Fishing in the wind sucks. It is zero fun. It is less than zero fun if you are getting no bites. We weren’t. So without even a nibble to brag about we went back to the camper to tell Margo of our luck.
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She was busy making dinner on the propane stove. Jessi was sleeping as Margo had already fed her. Margo had premade most of the day’s formula bottles for Jessi, but she left them on the floorboard of the car. They all spoiled for some reason. We thought that either the electric cigarette-lighter powered bottle warmer had malfunctioned and gotten them too warm. Or, that the heater had cooked them. When we got back Margo showed us the remnants of a broken glass baby bottle. This had been her first attempt to heat up a bottle on this stove. She explained she had heated the water and then put a cold bottle in the pan. She knew better, and got a physics lesson to remind her why you don’t do that. The mess wasn’t too bad, as it mostly went in the pan.
We ate and Margo decided to do a little exploring before we lost all of our daylight.
There was not a lot to see, but she and Jolene did see a lizard there in the campground. Jolene thought that was pretty cool and had her mother take a picture of it.
That was really it for the day. It had been a long drive. We had an adventure or two and we had seen a lot of pretty country driving through the Colorado and Utah mountains. So we went to bed pretty early, knowing we had another 8 hours to drive tomorrow.
We ate and Margo decided to do a little exploring before we lost all of our daylight.
There was not a lot to see, but she and Jolene did see a lizard there in the campground. Jolene thought that was pretty cool and had her mother take a picture of it.
That was really it for the day. It had been a long drive. We had an adventure or two and we had seen a lot of pretty country driving through the Colorado and Utah mountains. So we went to bed pretty early, knowing we had another 8 hours to drive tomorrow.
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Day Two--April 13, 1989
We were up early and drove towards the lake. Our plan was to take the John Atlantic Burr Ferry (named for pioneer Utah rancher, John Atlantic Burr) from the Bullfrog Marina on the northwest side of Lake Powell to Hall’s Crossing on the southwest side. It would be much faster than backtracking to drive around Lake Powell. So by 9:00 AM, the first crossing from Bullfrog to Hall’s, the four of us, plus the Nova and Pop Up were all on the ship and ready to go.
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It was a bit weird to drive your car onto a ship, but certainly not strange enough to prevent us from going. The crossing itself took about 20 minutes and was very smooth and uneventful. We all sat outside and watched the water and we motored across the water. When we had loaded onto the ship we drove on from one end. Now that we had arrived at Hall’s Crossing, they opened up the other side and we awaited our turn to drive off the other.
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From this point we got onto UT-276 and began our drive to the Grand Canyon. The most interesting part of our drive occurred about an hour and a half into our trip. We had taken UT-276 to UT-95, and turned on to UT-261. UT-261 runs into UT 163 at Mexican Hat, UT. Right before you get to Mexican Hat is a geological formation called the Moki Dugway.
The Moki Dugway is kind of large (about 1100 ft) sandstone plateau. The highway that we were traveling on arrives at the top of Moki and you have to get down to the bottom to continue the drive. To facilitate this, the Utah Department of Transportation has cut a long, narrow, twisty dirt road to the bottom. There are no guard rails and it causes acrophobia in any sane person. We proceeded down at a breathtaking 5 miles per hour. This stretch of the highway is unpaved. I later read somewhere that it was left that way intentionally to keep the speeds down and save lives. Well, the lack of a guardrail and that one-wrong-move-and-I’ll-die feeling was enough for me. You got kind of used to it about 10 minutes into it, but you never felt comfortable.
The Moki Dugway is kind of large (about 1100 ft) sandstone plateau. The highway that we were traveling on arrives at the top of Moki and you have to get down to the bottom to continue the drive. To facilitate this, the Utah Department of Transportation has cut a long, narrow, twisty dirt road to the bottom. There are no guard rails and it causes acrophobia in any sane person. We proceeded down at a breathtaking 5 miles per hour. This stretch of the highway is unpaved. I later read somewhere that it was left that way intentionally to keep the speeds down and save lives. Well, the lack of a guardrail and that one-wrong-move-and-I’ll-die feeling was enough for me. You got kind of used to it about 10 minutes into it, but you never felt comfortable.
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We stopped at Kayenta, AZ for gas and a break. It was about 2 PM, and we weren’t that far out. I was probably about another two hours. Both girls were behaving wonderfully. Jolene just played with her games, or slept, and Jessi was almost always asleep. After a short break we were back on our way.
We arrived at the North Entrance, and even though we already knew that we still had another 9 miles to go, we were still a bit disappointed that we weren’t seeing the canyon yet. But it wouldn’t be long now. The drive into the park saw more trees and prettier overall countryside. The sandstone features of south central Utah are pretty, but there were also a bit sparse. Mostly we had been looking at scrubs and desert for the last several hours.
But, in another 10 minutes and we got our first good look at the canyon, as the Grand Canyon Highway took you close to the edge, at a parking lot for a trail. We didn’t stop, as we wanted to get set up and make sure there weren’t any problems. And there weren’t, we got our permit and directions to our space and off we went.
By the time we got setup it was not long until sunset. From the map we had gotten we saw that the Transept Trail was on the west side of this area, and sounded like a good place to watch the sunset over the canyon. So that is where we headed, to get our first good look at the canyon. It is hard to put into words the shear size of it. The feeling that you are small only compares when you gaze out into the ocean from a ship. The big difference here is that there so much to see. The ocean is just mile after mile of water. Peaceful and relaxing, Yes. But, you have to lose yourself in the churning of the water.
With the Grand Canyon you are both sucked in by the beauty and held at arm’s length by the size. At every degree of the compass is something else to see. You first focus on the big picture and then the details draw you in. You begin to feel guilty at taking so much time to just “look”. It has that feel of being “too good, so it must be bad” to it. You almost feel obligated to move on, so someone else can enjoy it too. But that is ludicrous as we had little competition.
But we did move along. To get to the trail we had passed a general store, and we wanted to check hours and see what they sold. The exact details of both escape me, but Margo did notice a large area dedicated to moccasins. And as we were in Indian (Hopi) country, she did end up getting a pair, but not at this moment.
We did still want to see the sunset. So we went back and staked out a piece of trail and watched a very pretty sunset. Truthfully, it was good, but the sunset itself was a bit disappointing. But, the changing of the light in the canyon more than made up for it. The colors grow darker and the shadows change the whole character. We left while the light of the downed sun still gave us lamination to see.
The remainder of our evening was spent with dinner and getting the kids ready for bed. This campground featured pay showers. Margo was more than ready for one of those, but the kids got sponge baths, instead. Jolene didn’t really appreciate the therapeutic powers of a shower yet. She was only 4 and Jessi obviously wasn’t going to take one. But, that was pretty much it for the night. I think we picked up some snacks at the store, and some candy for Jolene, and bedded down for the night.
We arrived at the North Entrance, and even though we already knew that we still had another 9 miles to go, we were still a bit disappointed that we weren’t seeing the canyon yet. But it wouldn’t be long now. The drive into the park saw more trees and prettier overall countryside. The sandstone features of south central Utah are pretty, but there were also a bit sparse. Mostly we had been looking at scrubs and desert for the last several hours.
But, in another 10 minutes and we got our first good look at the canyon, as the Grand Canyon Highway took you close to the edge, at a parking lot for a trail. We didn’t stop, as we wanted to get set up and make sure there weren’t any problems. And there weren’t, we got our permit and directions to our space and off we went.
By the time we got setup it was not long until sunset. From the map we had gotten we saw that the Transept Trail was on the west side of this area, and sounded like a good place to watch the sunset over the canyon. So that is where we headed, to get our first good look at the canyon. It is hard to put into words the shear size of it. The feeling that you are small only compares when you gaze out into the ocean from a ship. The big difference here is that there so much to see. The ocean is just mile after mile of water. Peaceful and relaxing, Yes. But, you have to lose yourself in the churning of the water.
With the Grand Canyon you are both sucked in by the beauty and held at arm’s length by the size. At every degree of the compass is something else to see. You first focus on the big picture and then the details draw you in. You begin to feel guilty at taking so much time to just “look”. It has that feel of being “too good, so it must be bad” to it. You almost feel obligated to move on, so someone else can enjoy it too. But that is ludicrous as we had little competition.
But we did move along. To get to the trail we had passed a general store, and we wanted to check hours and see what they sold. The exact details of both escape me, but Margo did notice a large area dedicated to moccasins. And as we were in Indian (Hopi) country, she did end up getting a pair, but not at this moment.
We did still want to see the sunset. So we went back and staked out a piece of trail and watched a very pretty sunset. Truthfully, it was good, but the sunset itself was a bit disappointing. But, the changing of the light in the canyon more than made up for it. The colors grow darker and the shadows change the whole character. We left while the light of the downed sun still gave us lamination to see.
The remainder of our evening was spent with dinner and getting the kids ready for bed. This campground featured pay showers. Margo was more than ready for one of those, but the kids got sponge baths, instead. Jolene didn’t really appreciate the therapeutic powers of a shower yet. She was only 4 and Jessi obviously wasn’t going to take one. But, that was pretty much it for the night. I think we picked up some snacks at the store, and some candy for Jolene, and bedded down for the night.
Day Three---Friday, April 14, 1989
We were up pretty early. With a nine week old you really don’t get a normal night’s rest. Margo has always done more than half of the nightly feedings and on this trip, she probably did most of them. Her maternal instincts had taken over, and she was going to focus all of her attention on the baby.
We knew we wanted to walk the trails around the immediate area and get over to Bright Angel Point, which would give us the best views of the canyon. Plus, Margo wanted to get a pair of the moccasins we saw yesterday. So the general store was our first stop and we spent some deciding what she would get. I also ended up with a t-shirt that said “I hiked the Grand Canyon” on the front. On the back it said “I’m lying”. This was in tribute to my doctor. He had given his blessing for us to take this trip so soon after my procedure, but he warned me specifically not to hike the canyon, as it would probably be too much strain. I suppose we would find our today about straining. I had definitely not overdone it to this point. And I had no problems either.
After our stop at the store we started our trip around the area, focusing on Transept Trail. We also could not fail to notice the helicopters and airplanes that were taking tourists on air tours of the canyon. We spent the next couple of hours walking the trail, admiring the canyon from different vantage points, and generally just enjoying being out in sunshine.
Our whole time the weather was beautiful. We didn’t wear shorts, I’m not even sure if we packed any. The days were in the 70s and the nights, while cold, were not too cold.
Near the southern end, here on the north side, is the Grand Canyon Lodge and Visitors Center. We spent some time admiring the architecture of the building, and learning about how much effort went into its construction. We were still a quarter of a mile of so from Bright Angel Point, so after a short rest here, we headed back down that trail. It was worth the walk. The walk itself was just full of great views, between the evergreen and scrub oak that grew all along the side.
We knew we wanted to walk the trails around the immediate area and get over to Bright Angel Point, which would give us the best views of the canyon. Plus, Margo wanted to get a pair of the moccasins we saw yesterday. So the general store was our first stop and we spent some deciding what she would get. I also ended up with a t-shirt that said “I hiked the Grand Canyon” on the front. On the back it said “I’m lying”. This was in tribute to my doctor. He had given his blessing for us to take this trip so soon after my procedure, but he warned me specifically not to hike the canyon, as it would probably be too much strain. I suppose we would find our today about straining. I had definitely not overdone it to this point. And I had no problems either.
After our stop at the store we started our trip around the area, focusing on Transept Trail. We also could not fail to notice the helicopters and airplanes that were taking tourists on air tours of the canyon. We spent the next couple of hours walking the trail, admiring the canyon from different vantage points, and generally just enjoying being out in sunshine.
Our whole time the weather was beautiful. We didn’t wear shorts, I’m not even sure if we packed any. The days were in the 70s and the nights, while cold, were not too cold.
Near the southern end, here on the north side, is the Grand Canyon Lodge and Visitors Center. We spent some time admiring the architecture of the building, and learning about how much effort went into its construction. We were still a quarter of a mile of so from Bright Angel Point, so after a short rest here, we headed back down that trail. It was worth the walk. The walk itself was just full of great views, between the evergreen and scrub oak that grew all along the side.
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Then when we got to The Point, you see why everyone says that pictures just don’t do the canyon justice. Words just fail to describe the vastness. The depth and width push the limits of the eyes. You are never sure if you are seeing a portion of the bottom or the other side. It just seems to go on and down in a progression of steep declines. We couldn’t see the Colorado River, which would have been the bottom. We probably just didn’t know where to look.
Having met our goal, we decided to head back. We were all a bit hungry. We had packed snacks, and did not fail to take advantage of the occasional kiosk or vendor to buy ice cream or a soda, so we weren’t famished. But, we needed to eat a real meal just the same. As we sat down and ate, I brought up the subject to checking into the helicopters. None of had ever ridden in one before, and it would be quite the experience to fly over the Grand Canyon in one.
Margo agreed that it couldn’t hurt to find our how much they cost, even though we had not budgeted for this type of extravagance. We were both pretty sure it was going to be outrageous. After eating we walked over to the place selling the tickets, and got a brochure. I do not recall how much, but they weren’t cheap. Still the shorter flights, 20 minutes, were not completely outrageous. After a short discussion, in which we decided that opportunities like this are probably once in a life time we decided to charge it my credit card, and do the serious thinking later. We were confident we could pay it off, I mean we are only talking about $125, but that was a pretty good fee to pay in 1989
Having met our goal, we decided to head back. We were all a bit hungry. We had packed snacks, and did not fail to take advantage of the occasional kiosk or vendor to buy ice cream or a soda, so we weren’t famished. But, we needed to eat a real meal just the same. As we sat down and ate, I brought up the subject to checking into the helicopters. None of had ever ridden in one before, and it would be quite the experience to fly over the Grand Canyon in one.
Margo agreed that it couldn’t hurt to find our how much they cost, even though we had not budgeted for this type of extravagance. We were both pretty sure it was going to be outrageous. After eating we walked over to the place selling the tickets, and got a brochure. I do not recall how much, but they weren’t cheap. Still the shorter flights, 20 minutes, were not completely outrageous. After a short discussion, in which we decided that opportunities like this are probably once in a life time we decided to charge it my credit card, and do the serious thinking later. We were confident we could pay it off, I mean we are only talking about $125, but that was a pretty good fee to pay in 1989
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We bought our tickets and waited our turn. We would be leaving in less than an hour. When it was nearly time, we were given head phones, to help with the noise and allow us to hear the pilot. Jessi looked very cute in hers. We boarded the helicopter. I sat up front with the pilot, to help evenly distribute the weight. Margo, Jolene, and Jessi were in the back. We had ridden in a plane before, but we knew this would be different.
After strapping in and getting all secured the pilot increased power, to the already turning engine. The sound of the rotor turning faster, and faster, until it beat the air into submission was exhilarating, and then suddenly we were airborne! I had good forward and left side visibility. The pilot was too my right, but I could still see pretty well. Plus there was Plexiglas at our feet, in the floorboard. This allowed me to look down as we flew.
The views were truly spectacular. They were much better than on the ground. The pilot narrated the whole time. I remember thinking “How can he talk and fly at the same time?” Stupid, huh? That’s what I thought next, as I’m sure it was as second nature to him as driving car was to me. I can talk and drive. Why shouldn’t he be able to fly and talk?
After strapping in and getting all secured the pilot increased power, to the already turning engine. The sound of the rotor turning faster, and faster, until it beat the air into submission was exhilarating, and then suddenly we were airborne! I had good forward and left side visibility. The pilot was too my right, but I could still see pretty well. Plus there was Plexiglas at our feet, in the floorboard. This allowed me to look down as we flew.
The views were truly spectacular. They were much better than on the ground. The pilot narrated the whole time. I remember thinking “How can he talk and fly at the same time?” Stupid, huh? That’s what I thought next, as I’m sure it was as second nature to him as driving car was to me. I can talk and drive. Why shouldn’t he be able to fly and talk?
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Anyway, he pointed out various things, but I didn’t remember them 15 seconds after he said them. With the breathtaking views of the canyon, checking to see how the rest of family was reacting in the back (Jessi was asleep. How she could sleep with all that noise was beyond me!), all gauges, bells, and whistles on the cockpit display, and defying gravity, there was just too much new information competing for brain attentions. The fact that this place was called “Something, Something” or that Indians used to do something over here, or that famous explorer X did something over there, had zero chance of getting noticed by my conscience mind. This was even though I enjoy US History. I imagine Margo, who was experiencing the same thing I was, but cares less about history than I do heard “Blah, blah, blah, Indians, blah, blah, blah,” Jolene, who was three, probably heard “Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz”.
Regardless, we all loved it. The only bad part was the 20 minutes seemed to last only 5. We were up in the air, and then it was seemingly over. We landed and thanked our pilot. He did a great job. I’ll bet it would have been fun to buy him a beer and let him tell stories. Most helicopter pilots got their training in the service. He was of the right age to have served in Vietnam. Vietnam chopper pilots did not lead a boring life.
Regardless, we all loved it. The only bad part was the 20 minutes seemed to last only 5. We were up in the air, and then it was seemingly over. We landed and thanked our pilot. He did a great job. I’ll bet it would have been fun to buy him a beer and let him tell stories. Most helicopter pilots got their training in the service. He was of the right age to have served in Vietnam. Vietnam chopper pilots did not lead a boring life.
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As you might have guessed, the rest of the day was pretty much all down hill from there.nIt would have been tough to top that. So we didn’t try too hard. We wandered a little telling “Did you see” stories and getting Jolene’s take on the whole thing. She thought it was just great. Jessi had managed to sleep through the whole thing. So how is it, if I flush the toilet back home, she is awake?
The weather had been cooperating nicely. It was nice enough not to wear a jacket, in the afternoon. No wind to speak of. We finished up the later afternoon with dinner at the Lodge. Afterwards we proceeded to find a spot to watch our second and last Grand Canyon sunset. It was as good as the first. I did not even attempt to take a picture. I only had an old fixed focus camera, and taking low light photos was really not an option. So after sunset it was back to the camper, and then off to bed. Tomorrow we would head towards home.
The weather had been cooperating nicely. It was nice enough not to wear a jacket, in the afternoon. No wind to speak of. We finished up the later afternoon with dinner at the Lodge. Afterwards we proceeded to find a spot to watch our second and last Grand Canyon sunset. It was as good as the first. I did not even attempt to take a picture. I only had an old fixed focus camera, and taking low light photos was really not an option. So after sunset it was back to the camper, and then off to bed. Tomorrow we would head towards home.
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Day Four---Saturday, April 15th
We were up early, as had been our habit on this trip. This was pretty early in the season, so the nights were still arriving early and they were a bit to cold to do much. Especially so, with two young kids along. It was much easier to go to bed early, and then start the day early.
We were heading home today, with the goal of getting to Cortez. Some people disagree, maybe most disagree, but traveling more than 8 hours per day, by car, is too much. Generally speaking, if your destination is more than that, fly, or break it into smaller chunks and stop and do something. Cortez was not even seven driving hours, but we figured on stopping at the Four Corners (where Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado all share a common boundary. The only such point in the US), area and if we got into town early enough take at least a short tour of Mesa Verde.
We had eaten, packed up, taken down, and stowed away everything by 8 AM, and were on the road. I remember continually glancing out my window at the canyon, wondering is this my last look at it forever? Will I ever see the Grand Canyon, again? I’ve never been that circumspect about a place before, but the Canyon is special. But, one of those glances was my last, at least for now, and we headed north into the Navaho Nation, whose northeast section held the Four Corners.
About four hours into our trip the temperature warning light (Idiot Light, called that because you feel like an idiot trying to figure out what is wrong) came on. I had flushed the radiator prior to the trip, to try to make sure there were no problems. Now, well east of Kayenta, on US-160 (the geographical center of the middle of no where) I was having a problem. The engine was still purring like a kitten. There was no steam, smoke, or any other side of trouble. But, it was a hot day. The temps would be in the 80s, easy here in the desert. So, relying on my basic knowledge of physics, I told Margo that we had to kick the heater on. She thought I was nuts, but I explained that the heater worked by leaching residual heat from the engine and directing it inside the car. We needed to leach all of the heat we could get out of that engine. It was done, and we were miserable. Jessi still slept. Jolene never complained, after we explained that it had to be done. Neither did Margo. I was plenty worried about being stranded in the desert. Thoughts of, Why is it overheating? How do I fix this? Could I fix this?, kept replaying.
We were heading home today, with the goal of getting to Cortez. Some people disagree, maybe most disagree, but traveling more than 8 hours per day, by car, is too much. Generally speaking, if your destination is more than that, fly, or break it into smaller chunks and stop and do something. Cortez was not even seven driving hours, but we figured on stopping at the Four Corners (where Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado all share a common boundary. The only such point in the US), area and if we got into town early enough take at least a short tour of Mesa Verde.
We had eaten, packed up, taken down, and stowed away everything by 8 AM, and were on the road. I remember continually glancing out my window at the canyon, wondering is this my last look at it forever? Will I ever see the Grand Canyon, again? I’ve never been that circumspect about a place before, but the Canyon is special. But, one of those glances was my last, at least for now, and we headed north into the Navaho Nation, whose northeast section held the Four Corners.
About four hours into our trip the temperature warning light (Idiot Light, called that because you feel like an idiot trying to figure out what is wrong) came on. I had flushed the radiator prior to the trip, to try to make sure there were no problems. Now, well east of Kayenta, on US-160 (the geographical center of the middle of no where) I was having a problem. The engine was still purring like a kitten. There was no steam, smoke, or any other side of trouble. But, it was a hot day. The temps would be in the 80s, easy here in the desert. So, relying on my basic knowledge of physics, I told Margo that we had to kick the heater on. She thought I was nuts, but I explained that the heater worked by leaching residual heat from the engine and directing it inside the car. We needed to leach all of the heat we could get out of that engine. It was done, and we were miserable. Jessi still slept. Jolene never complained, after we explained that it had to be done. Neither did Margo. I was plenty worried about being stranded in the desert. Thoughts of, Why is it overheating? How do I fix this? Could I fix this?, kept replaying.
The heater solution worked in the sense that we kept on plugging along. No additional signs of trouble manifested themselves. It did not work, in that the light never went out. Thoughts of big time engine damage played in my head. I thought of stopping, but we had passed Mexican Water, what passed for a town, not long after we started having trouble. We made it to Teec Nos Pos, and I pulled over. I had to check the fluid level, to see if that was the problem. But you see, we are talking about a 1973 Nova. There was not radiator overflow reservoir to check. You had to take off the radiator cap. With an overheated engine that posed two issues. First, you were guaranteed first degree burns from the superheated coolant that would explode out when the pressure was released. Second, you needed as much of that superheated coolant as possible in the radiator to keep it cool when we started. We were carrying about four gallons of water. Not because of my amazing foresight, but because we had a baby (still sleeping) that was on formula. So my plan was to let the engine cool down, and add water if needed. We waited for about an hour and an half before I coaxed the cap off. It was low on fluid. So we added two gallons. The car started up, but there was no change. The light stayed on.
You old timers out there, who owned a Chevy small block engine, know that they are famous for the abuse they can take before they fail. So the fact that the engine was still purring did not eliminate the fears I had, that it was going to conk out at any minute. I weighed the options of continuing with the planned itinerary, and hoping for the best. Or, heading for the biggest town in the area, Shiprock, NM, and see about finding a water pump, coolant, and more water. When we pulled over I did an inspection. I didn’t see a leak, but I could smell coolant. I’m thinking that the water pump is somehow malfunctioning, or I have a leak. It was an easy decision, really. Four Corners was out, and she continued on US-160 into Shiprock.
Looking back, today was filled with missed opportunities. The first of which was Four Corners. There was no helping that we had to take care of the car. So about 40 minutes later, we were in Shiprock, NM. Finding an auto parts store tuned out to be easy, and it did not take long to get a water pump and a few gallons of coolant. We replaced the water for Jessi’s bottles and then headed north out of town. The girls, all three of them, had been great this whole time. You could excuse a nine week old, if she, being hot and miserable cried and carried on. You wouldn’t like it, but you could excuse her. Not a peep. When we sat waiting in the hot car, for the engine to cool, she slept through the whole thing. When she did get up, Margo changed her, fed her, and she was a happy little camper. Jolene, too. She amused herself the best she could, but never whined or complained.
You old timers out there, who owned a Chevy small block engine, know that they are famous for the abuse they can take before they fail. So the fact that the engine was still purring did not eliminate the fears I had, that it was going to conk out at any minute. I weighed the options of continuing with the planned itinerary, and hoping for the best. Or, heading for the biggest town in the area, Shiprock, NM, and see about finding a water pump, coolant, and more water. When we pulled over I did an inspection. I didn’t see a leak, but I could smell coolant. I’m thinking that the water pump is somehow malfunctioning, or I have a leak. It was an easy decision, really. Four Corners was out, and she continued on US-160 into Shiprock.
Looking back, today was filled with missed opportunities. The first of which was Four Corners. There was no helping that we had to take care of the car. So about 40 minutes later, we were in Shiprock, NM. Finding an auto parts store tuned out to be easy, and it did not take long to get a water pump and a few gallons of coolant. We replaced the water for Jessi’s bottles and then headed north out of town. The girls, all three of them, had been great this whole time. You could excuse a nine week old, if she, being hot and miserable cried and carried on. You wouldn’t like it, but you could excuse her. Not a peep. When we sat waiting in the hot car, for the engine to cool, she slept through the whole thing. When she did get up, Margo changed her, fed her, and she was a happy little camper. Jolene, too. She amused herself the best she could, but never whined or complained.
Missed opportunity number two had already presented itself, but we were too worried about the situation to notice. No more pictures. We had film, but as were not news photographers, who somehow have an instinct to film disasters, our first inclination was not to take out the camera to preserve our situation for posterity. So, from the time we went to bed on Friday, we didn’t take another picture.
This factored in on missed opportunity number three, US Route 666, The Devil’s Highway. US 666 connects Shiprock with Cortez, CO, where we would be spending the night. It was the road we would travel on for most of an hour. Raised Catholic, I was familiar with the biblical connotation of the 666 number. I thought it interesting at the time, but only in a passing sense. Our car troubles had driven any sense of stopping or spontaneity from me. In other words, there was no way we would be stopping to take a picture. Even though in hindsight, it would have been something to look back on in amusement. Sad, as this missed opportunity can likely not be corrected. In 2003, after numerous complaints about the highway being cursed (Amazing how a drunk having an accident is a curse on one highway, and stupidity on another) and the fact that the highways signs were stolen at a much higher rate than other road signs, the road was redesignated US Route 491. I doubt there are any remaining signs to take a picture of.
The drive from Shiprock to Cortez was only about 45 minutes. The Nova, as it had all day, ran perfect, but the temp light stayed on. Back in Shiprock, in addition to the water pump, I picked up a set of gauges. One of which would tell me the actual temperature of the engine coolant. Anything over 220 degrees F was hot. Running over 250 for an extended time was risking damage. But, until I got the gauge hooked up, and we ran the car, I wouldn’t know. We pulled into the KOA campground in Cortez, CO. We paid for a night, and I explained to the man the trouble I was having. He said it would be all right if I worked on the car. This was nice of him, as he really didn’t have to.
This factored in on missed opportunity number three, US Route 666, The Devil’s Highway. US 666 connects Shiprock with Cortez, CO, where we would be spending the night. It was the road we would travel on for most of an hour. Raised Catholic, I was familiar with the biblical connotation of the 666 number. I thought it interesting at the time, but only in a passing sense. Our car troubles had driven any sense of stopping or spontaneity from me. In other words, there was no way we would be stopping to take a picture. Even though in hindsight, it would have been something to look back on in amusement. Sad, as this missed opportunity can likely not be corrected. In 2003, after numerous complaints about the highway being cursed (Amazing how a drunk having an accident is a curse on one highway, and stupidity on another) and the fact that the highways signs were stolen at a much higher rate than other road signs, the road was redesignated US Route 491. I doubt there are any remaining signs to take a picture of.
The drive from Shiprock to Cortez was only about 45 minutes. The Nova, as it had all day, ran perfect, but the temp light stayed on. Back in Shiprock, in addition to the water pump, I picked up a set of gauges. One of which would tell me the actual temperature of the engine coolant. Anything over 220 degrees F was hot. Running over 250 for an extended time was risking damage. But, until I got the gauge hooked up, and we ran the car, I wouldn’t know. We pulled into the KOA campground in Cortez, CO. We paid for a night, and I explained to the man the trouble I was having. He said it would be all right if I worked on the car. This was nice of him, as he really didn’t have to.
This leads us into missed opportunity number four, Mesa Verde. Mesa Verde is an ancient Indian dwelling, rediscovered in 1888 by a rancher looking for cattle. It had been inhabited from 600 to 1300, and then everyone disappeared. We were not going to get the opportunity to go looking for them, as I would be spending the next several hours waiting for the engine to cool, and then replacing the water pump, and installing a temp gauge. That sucks. Maybe another time. It had been here for more than a millennium, it should last awhile longer.
This sounds very impressive, doing all of this mechanical work, on the fly. But you have to remember two things. A 1973 Nova did not require a degree in computer programming or quantum mechanics to work on. They were pretty basic, and thankfully had a lot of room. Taking a water pump off was really not that big a deal. Installing the gauge amounted to removing a plug in the engine and screwing one back in. Then, attaching the gauges to the underside of the dash. Second, I didn’t have much choice. I had brought a good selection of tools, just in case, and it was now “in case”. I could either do it myself or hire someone to do it. As I was not unfamiliar with the basics, I didn’t think I was in over my head.
I wasn’t. All things considered, it went very smooth. We arrived at the campground, got the pop up set up, and we got dinner. This gave the car time to cool down. I mounted the gauge part under the dash and ran the cable to the engine compartment, to give the car more time to cool. Then about two hours later, it was done. The Nova started up, and the light did not come on. It wasn’t going to come on, because it was now disconnected to allow for the gauge to be installed. It would have to wait for tomorrow, and Wolf Creek Pass, to see if I had fixed it.
In the meantime I cleaned up and we wandered to the KOA office, to see what they had for sale in the vending machines and such. Jolene got whatever treat she asked for, she had more than earned it. I found a book on the old west that interested me. And that was pretty much it for the day. We went off to bed with the thought of starting as early as possible. The cooler it was outside the easier the engine would have it
This sounds very impressive, doing all of this mechanical work, on the fly. But you have to remember two things. A 1973 Nova did not require a degree in computer programming or quantum mechanics to work on. They were pretty basic, and thankfully had a lot of room. Taking a water pump off was really not that big a deal. Installing the gauge amounted to removing a plug in the engine and screwing one back in. Then, attaching the gauges to the underside of the dash. Second, I didn’t have much choice. I had brought a good selection of tools, just in case, and it was now “in case”. I could either do it myself or hire someone to do it. As I was not unfamiliar with the basics, I didn’t think I was in over my head.
I wasn’t. All things considered, it went very smooth. We arrived at the campground, got the pop up set up, and we got dinner. This gave the car time to cool down. I mounted the gauge part under the dash and ran the cable to the engine compartment, to give the car more time to cool. Then about two hours later, it was done. The Nova started up, and the light did not come on. It wasn’t going to come on, because it was now disconnected to allow for the gauge to be installed. It would have to wait for tomorrow, and Wolf Creek Pass, to see if I had fixed it.
In the meantime I cleaned up and we wandered to the KOA office, to see what they had for sale in the vending machines and such. Jolene got whatever treat she asked for, she had more than earned it. I found a book on the old west that interested me. And that was pretty much it for the day. We went off to bed with the thought of starting as early as possible. The cooler it was outside the easier the engine would have it
Day Five---Sunday, April 16, 1989
I wasn’t overly worried about today. New water pump. I had checked everywhere for leaks. Full radiator and new gauges to monitor the situation. Cortez is situated in the mountains of western Colorado, in a valley. So for the next five hours, until we reached Walsenburg, it would be one climb followed by a descent after another. The toughest one we would face would be Wolf Creek Pass, just past the town of Pagosa Springs. The pass sits at an elevation of 10,823 feet, and its crest is right on the Continental Divide. It would take us somewhere close to an hour and a half to reach it, so I had plenty of opportunity to see how the car was running.
We left early, and the thermostat opened right at 180 degrees like it was supposed to. The temp climbed and seemed to level out between 210 and 220. A little hotter than I would like it, but pulling a trailer in thin air, really not a big concern. I did notice that each hill we took on pushed the temp higher, and of course it cooled down on the back side, when gravity provided the impetus for forward motion. And the longer the hill, the higher the temp got, but it always came right back down. This pattern held until we hit Pagosa Springs and started the serious portion of the climb.
We left early, and the thermostat opened right at 180 degrees like it was supposed to. The temp climbed and seemed to level out between 210 and 220. A little hotter than I would like it, but pulling a trailer in thin air, really not a big concern. I did notice that each hill we took on pushed the temp higher, and of course it cooled down on the back side, when gravity provided the impetus for forward motion. And the longer the hill, the higher the temp got, but it always came right back down. This pattern held until we hit Pagosa Springs and started the serious portion of the climb.
We had been traveling essentially uphill for the last half hour, and on a shallow grade. When we reached Pagosa Springs we decided to stop and let the car cool a bit, and take a nature break. I knew the engine temp would skyrocket when we parked, as the engine continued to dump calories of heat into coolant that was not circulating. I also knew it would then drop rapidly when we started moving again. All of that happened, which was actually more reassuring than worrisome. If I was able to predict what was going to happen, then I must have a fair understanding of the situation.
We left Pagosa Springs and started the now much steeper climb. As expected the engine got hotter and hotter. It went past 220 pretty quickly, after the initial cool down, and kept steadily climbing. 230 came and went. 240 showed up, and we were not halfway. 250 was passed and we were still not at the top. I was a bit worried now, as even though I knew what was happening and why, I didn’t know where the point was when things broke. It wasn’t at 260, thankfully. And luckily we didn’t have to test it any further. We didn’t see 260 but for a few seconds, and we crested the pass.
We left Pagosa Springs and started the now much steeper climb. As expected the engine got hotter and hotter. It went past 220 pretty quickly, after the initial cool down, and kept steadily climbing. 230 came and went. 240 showed up, and we were not halfway. 250 was passed and we were still not at the top. I was a bit worried now, as even though I knew what was happening and why, I didn’t know where the point was when things broke. It wasn’t at 260, thankfully. And luckily we didn’t have to test it any further. We didn’t see 260 but for a few seconds, and we crested the pass.
I never even considered stopping for a picture of the sign at the top, I had to get the engine cooled down. Going down hill would do that quickly. Gravity is providing more than enough power to move the car, so the engine didn’t have too. But as everything is still turning, the coolant is circulating and the radiator cools it down. We were back below 230 fairly quickly and stayed between 220 and 230 for the rest of the trip. That was still higher than I thought it should be, but like the day before the engine just purred. It never faltered, hesitated, or even sputtered. When I hit the gas, it went. Still I worried the whole way home. We arrived home between 4 and 5 PM. Safe and sound. We were all very tired, and in a way thankful it was over.
All in all it had been a great trip. For all of the things that went wrong; lost wallet, overheating, burning a hole in the camper, we had plenty of stuff that went right. The kids were great, the weather was perfect, we rode in helicopter, I had no discomfort from my surgery, and the Grand Canyon was everything it should have been. The only part that bothered me a little, was that I knew 9 week old Jessi would not remember a minute of it. Hopefully when she reads this that will make her feel like she was a part of it.
All in all it had been a great trip. For all of the things that went wrong; lost wallet, overheating, burning a hole in the camper, we had plenty of stuff that went right. The kids were great, the weather was perfect, we rode in helicopter, I had no discomfort from my surgery, and the Grand Canyon was everything it should have been. The only part that bothered me a little, was that I knew 9 week old Jessi would not remember a minute of it. Hopefully when she reads this that will make her feel like she was a part of it.
Epilouge
I never was able to conquer the overheating problem that the Nova had. I installed a bigger radiator, a different shroud, and a different thermostat. It always seemed to creep up to 200 when the weather got a little warm or if it idled too long. I finally came to conclusion that this engine just ran hot. And ran it did. When I finally stopped driving the car in 1997, it had 250,000 miles on it. The engine still purred like a kitten.
Jessi made it back to the Grand Canyon in 2004. We took her grandmother, Margo’s Mom with us, and they were both wowed by the Canyon. We even took a helicopter ride again. This time down to the bottom, to the Colorado River. But that is another story.
Jessi made it back to the Grand Canyon in 2004. We took her grandmother, Margo’s Mom with us, and they were both wowed by the Canyon. We even took a helicopter ride again. This time down to the bottom, to the Colorado River. But that is another story.