We arrived in the Grand Canyon area at 10PM. We found a motel about 50 miles south of the canyon's southern rim. In the morning we got up early, grabbed coffee, spilled it on ourselves, and drove an hour to the park.
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The maps we received showed paved paths along 5 miles of the rim - allowing dogs the whole way. Instead of walking or hiking, we laced up our midwestern rollerblades and hit the path at 8am. The literature reads that there is nothing quite like the Grand Canyon, however, Larson and Faircloth report that there is NOTHING LIKE ROLLERBLADING the Grand Canyon. While not an extreme sport, one must take care to check break pads and make sure they still have life left in them. The hills along the rim are handicapped (rollerblade) accessible, but there are still hazards such as narrow paths and sand/gravel. Jane's pads held up pretty well to the strenuous running.
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We made it to the "east village" and rollerbladed into a crowd of people that were gawking at a huge elk resting on the grass. One look at Jane and this elk got off its rear wide-eyed. The park ranger yelled at us, "the dog is spooking the elk, get him out of here!" We tried our best to not look like clueless tourists, "NO DUH - and it's a she!" We had to measure our own internal fear factor. Was the elk really scared of Jane? Did Jane care? (no) Did the elk scare us? Would we have continued along this trail and been chased off the cliff edge by a elk? We don't know, and we didn't care to find out. Thank you park official, you made it easy. We went around the building and continued on the other side.
One striking thing about the Grand Canyon is people's renewed sense of appreciation for large things - like dogs. Marcy couldn't rollerblade 100' without some well-dressed Italian couple saying, "Oho, whatio breedio?" Great Dane! "Ohhhhh *pet pet pet*" The novelty of our transportation system wore off quickly when confronted by 200 foreigners with SLR cameras. I was amazed at how much of the Grand Canyon I remembered from a family vacation when I was 9. (This time, it didn't rain, so the French women kept their shirts on.)
Next stop Moab. Just like between Reno and Vegas, and Vegas and Grand Canyon, there's little culture (or bathrooms) between the Grand Canyon and Moab.
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On the way out of the Canyon area we stopped at a native american jewelry and jerky stand. It was 11am and the store was just opening - providing us with the opportunity to purchase small 4oz bags of barcoded buffalo meat for $15. We mixed the jerky with a cache of chocolate we had hidden under our seat. Smart folks we are.
Later, we drove into a small town for diesel and was amazed at the multitude of families walking down the highway in want of a car. By late afternoon we were hungry again and one of us yelled, "OH, SONIC!" (I'll let you guess who.) Caylan ordered a fried chicken on ciabata, medium fry and a COOL OCEAN BREEZE WATER thing - the advertising mentioned coconut (and Caylan LOVES coconut) but the drink came out as a bright blue concoction of gatorade and sprite. Terrible. Marcy ordered a cherry limeade and a hot dog. Pleasing. We waited outside (that's the whole point, right?) and gawked at the stray dogs wandering around the worn out city-like-countryside. Every female dog had a hanging pregnant belly and every male dog had a missing ear. We didn't let Jane out of the car. We didn't want Jane to even sniff what these things were stepping in.
The rest of the trip to Moab was us taking turns driving and waking the other out of slumber as we passed interesting (or not so interesting) rock formations.
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As we entered Moab city limits, Caylan took note of a brewery in town. Per usual, we Yelped our food options. We settled on a sushi place and spent $30 to walk out half-hungry. The food was good, but the food was sushi, and we needed a few more calories to make up for our worn out driving arms and accelerator legs. We drove back to the brewery and low and behold they were having a PARTY. However, we were not invited. The bouncer made some allusion to paying a cover to be let in. We turned our heads like dogs listening to the radio and asked, "what in the world is happening tonight and how do we drink beer?" After berating the bouncer, he let us in the brewery for $5 each. We achieved "wrist band" status donning weary traveler costumes. At this point, Caylan thinks Moab is the best place on earth: awesome scenery, every car in the lot with a mountain bike rack, great food co-op, bike shops, and a large brewery (oh, and sushi). But this is where the story takes a bitter turn, because Moab, after all, is in Utah. And Utah, folks, is the home of some of the most conservative liquor laws in the country. Nothing more alcoholic than 3.2% can be poured from the beer taps. This is a death blow. Moab - the end… kind of. They can still brew "full strength" beer and bottle it in cans - so you just buy a can and call yourself satiated. Our wrist bands gained us access to a buffet of epic proportions: ribs, cheese balls, pasta, artichoke dip, hummus, club sandwiches, (no cookies)!
When we returned to the hotel, we jumped in the outdoor hot tub and I did laundry. The rest of Moab will be in the next post.
.jpg)
The maps we received showed paved paths along 5 miles of the rim - allowing dogs the whole way. Instead of walking or hiking, we laced up our midwestern rollerblades and hit the path at 8am. The literature reads that there is nothing quite like the Grand Canyon, however, Larson and Faircloth report that there is NOTHING LIKE ROLLERBLADING the Grand Canyon. While not an extreme sport, one must take care to check break pads and make sure they still have life left in them. The hills along the rim are handicapped (rollerblade) accessible, but there are still hazards such as narrow paths and sand/gravel. Jane's pads held up pretty well to the strenuous running.
.jpg)
We made it to the "east village" and rollerbladed into a crowd of people that were gawking at a huge elk resting on the grass. One look at Jane and this elk got off its rear wide-eyed. The park ranger yelled at us, "the dog is spooking the elk, get him out of here!" We tried our best to not look like clueless tourists, "NO DUH - and it's a she!" We had to measure our own internal fear factor. Was the elk really scared of Jane? Did Jane care? (no) Did the elk scare us? Would we have continued along this trail and been chased off the cliff edge by a elk? We don't know, and we didn't care to find out. Thank you park official, you made it easy. We went around the building and continued on the other side.
One striking thing about the Grand Canyon is people's renewed sense of appreciation for large things - like dogs. Marcy couldn't rollerblade 100' without some well-dressed Italian couple saying, "Oho, whatio breedio?" Great Dane! "Ohhhhh *pet pet pet*" The novelty of our transportation system wore off quickly when confronted by 200 foreigners with SLR cameras. I was amazed at how much of the Grand Canyon I remembered from a family vacation when I was 9. (This time, it didn't rain, so the French women kept their shirts on.)
Next stop Moab. Just like between Reno and Vegas, and Vegas and Grand Canyon, there's little culture (or bathrooms) between the Grand Canyon and Moab.
.jpg)
On the way out of the Canyon area we stopped at a native american jewelry and jerky stand. It was 11am and the store was just opening - providing us with the opportunity to purchase small 4oz bags of barcoded buffalo meat for $15. We mixed the jerky with a cache of chocolate we had hidden under our seat. Smart folks we are.
Later, we drove into a small town for diesel and was amazed at the multitude of families walking down the highway in want of a car. By late afternoon we were hungry again and one of us yelled, "OH, SONIC!" (I'll let you guess who.) Caylan ordered a fried chicken on ciabata, medium fry and a COOL OCEAN BREEZE WATER thing - the advertising mentioned coconut (and Caylan LOVES coconut) but the drink came out as a bright blue concoction of gatorade and sprite. Terrible. Marcy ordered a cherry limeade and a hot dog. Pleasing. We waited outside (that's the whole point, right?) and gawked at the stray dogs wandering around the worn out city-like-countryside. Every female dog had a hanging pregnant belly and every male dog had a missing ear. We didn't let Jane out of the car. We didn't want Jane to even sniff what these things were stepping in.
The rest of the trip to Moab was us taking turns driving and waking the other out of slumber as we passed interesting (or not so interesting) rock formations.
.jpg)
As we entered Moab city limits, Caylan took note of a brewery in town. Per usual, we Yelped our food options. We settled on a sushi place and spent $30 to walk out half-hungry. The food was good, but the food was sushi, and we needed a few more calories to make up for our worn out driving arms and accelerator legs. We drove back to the brewery and low and behold they were having a PARTY. However, we were not invited. The bouncer made some allusion to paying a cover to be let in. We turned our heads like dogs listening to the radio and asked, "what in the world is happening tonight and how do we drink beer?" After berating the bouncer, he let us in the brewery for $5 each. We achieved "wrist band" status donning weary traveler costumes. At this point, Caylan thinks Moab is the best place on earth: awesome scenery, every car in the lot with a mountain bike rack, great food co-op, bike shops, and a large brewery (oh, and sushi). But this is where the story takes a bitter turn, because Moab, after all, is in Utah. And Utah, folks, is the home of some of the most conservative liquor laws in the country. Nothing more alcoholic than 3.2% can be poured from the beer taps. This is a death blow. Moab - the end… kind of. They can still brew "full strength" beer and bottle it in cans - so you just buy a can and call yourself satiated. Our wrist bands gained us access to a buffet of epic proportions: ribs, cheese balls, pasta, artichoke dip, hummus, club sandwiches, (no cookies)!
When we returned to the hotel, we jumped in the outdoor hot tub and I did laundry. The rest of Moab will be in the next post.
Tim loves Ocean Water- ha ha! I agree though taht you ordered the better option ;-)