Our last full day and night on our sister road trip began with catching the shuttle bus from Bryce Canyon City to Bryce Canyon National Park, approximately a 20 minute drive. Our driver chatted with passengers and shared with us that this is her summer job, she is actually the town’s P.E. teacher and school bus driver; her husband is the principal {adorable!}
We decided to exit the shuttle at Bryce Point, which allowed us to hike part of the Rim Trail along some of the most breathtaking lookouts such as Sunset Point where you can see the chess-like formations in Queen’s City, and Inspiration Point, the perfect place to ponder the curious army of stone people in the Silent City.
Bryce Canyon is actually multiple amphitheaters carved into the pink Claron limestone of the Paunsaugunt Plateau, and is the most “recent” addition to the geological staircase in this region. Ya know, just 525 million years of earth’s history under your feet, no big deal.
The iconic castle-like rock formations that make up Bryce Canyon are actually called Hoodoos, and are eroded out of thin rock walls during weather cycles of rain and snow. The water dissolves and sculpts the limestone pillars and the never ending, always changing results are these dramatic life-like formations.
We decided to part ways for a few hours, as I wanted to take the Navajo Loop Trail into the bottom of the canyon and Beth preferred to stay on the Rim Trail. I knew ascending the red, dusty switch backs in the blazing sun awaited me at the second half of the trail, but I couldn’t pass up the change of perspective from the bottom of the canyon, looking UP at the sun bleached pillars and spires.
A section of the Navajo Loop: Wall StreetThriving Juniper in the canyonDelicate yet hardy canyon floraDry river beds become raging water ways during rainy season
After loosing each other for three hours, and a false fire alarm which evacuated the entire lodge full of visitors, we decided we had been playing in the canyon’s vortex for long enough, and decided to call it a day, before any other mischievous events took place.
Switch backs are the only way out of the canyon
That evening, we packed all of our things and went to bed early, eagerly awaiting our date with the sunrise in the canyon. The next morning we ended up having to leave before sunrise hit, but not before capturing the dreamy light at adeptly named Sunrise Point.
Beautiful purple hues, just before sunrise
We said our silent farewell to the canyon lands, and raced back to Las Vegas in time to pick up my brother-in-law from the airport at 11am, and to begin 4 days of madness in Sin City…
Our third day exploring the canyons had us driving through breathtaking scenery, and we couldn’t help but feel in awe, if not insignificantly small, as we experienced millions of years of geological evolution before our very eyes…
Grand Staircase- Escalante
Driving through Red Canyon to reach our destination for the next two days, was no disappointment. Cut into the Paunsaugunt Plateau, the various erosional shapes along the four miles of byway burst with brilliant shades of reds and crimsons.
We stopped at the visitor center in Cannonville, and we were encouraged by the ranger at the front desk to drive the 70 mile one-way drive through the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, where we would ‘encounter a special surprise’ at the end of the drive. He didn’t have to tell us twice! We got in the car and headed out on the open road.
A quick stop at the over look before plunging into the canyon on switchback roads
We were both expecting to park the car and stand before a giant rock formation, but in fact, the Grand Staircase-Escalante is a 1.9 million acre monument. The space was set aside in 1996 “to preserve its wide open spaces and intact ecosystems.” Following the National Scenic Byway 12, we traveled with the top down, through endless stretches of canyons and switchbacks.
We passed through Henrieville, Escalante, and further onto Boulder, Utah– dots on the sun-scorched horizon.
The area offers hiking, backpacking, canyoneering, ATV tours, slot canyon discovery, and a million other outdoor activities you can think of– at that moment, we preferred to navigate the area in our humble steed, taking in the three distinct regions of the area.
The Grand Staircase is a series of massive geological steps that descend towards the Grand Canyon, and the five cliff formations- pink, gray, white, vermillion, chocolate- are each different chapters of geological history. The Kaiparowits Plateau is a massive, isolated region of mesas and canyons, and the monument’s central section. The Canyons are a series of smaller, labyrinthine canyons of sandstone that feed the Escalante River on its way to the Colorado River.
The land is arid and daylight is nearly blinding. Dried up river beds are predominant in most canyons during the summer months, but as we found ourselves cautiously driving over a narrow land bridge with sheer drop offs on both sides (this was the surprise!) we could feel the moisture gather in the air until it exploded into a tiny rain storm.
It’s not hard to tell where the water runs–just follow the river of green
We kept the top down and pulled the car over, letting the rain drops fall on our faces, the smell of pure, wild weather, overwhelming us. Small rivers raged down the side of the road and off of the rock cliffs, creating miniature, temporary waterfalls.
Evoking the desert rain is no easy taskContemplating the immensity of it all
Shortly after, we headed back to our home for two nights, Bryce Canyon Pioneer Village. As common in this area, we had the option to stay in a cabin, while other vacationers chose the motel, RV park, or camp ground options for their accommodations.
Our room included a mini fridge, so our beer and leftover pizza from dinner that night became a late night snack as we fell asleep watching The Big Labowski.
At 6am we collected ourselves and hiking gear as best we could in the glow of our cellphones and headed back to Zion, where, on this day, we planned to hike The Narrows, the narrowest section of Zion. This gorge/slot canyon guards the Virgin River with its 2,000 foot walls, and squeezes her tightly in places no wider than your arms length.
We parked at the visitor center and caught a shuttle bus to the last stop on the park’s route to Temple of Sinawava. Taking the shuttle allows you to gawk at your surroundings while the driver spots out wildlife, and points of interests. Once arriving at the Temple, a one mile paved path takes you along the banks of the Virgin River, past Jurassic Park-like vegetation, and hanging gardens growing vertically from the cliff walls. The commotion at the river’s edge was in full force– groups of people lacing up hiking boots, excited children running about, opportunistic ground squirrels sneaking into open backpacks.
With our dry bags secured and our walking sticks ready, we entered the river, unceremoniously, and started the journey upstream. Once we found the rhythm of walking over submerged river rocks, we looked around us and smiled wildly. A waterfall to our right, a small, lush island straight ahead, waist deep water, shocking yet refreshing.
My sister and I felt we were prepared as any amateur hiker could be– hiking boots, walking stick, water proof bags, water, snacks, cameras, and a weather report. Nothing can ruin your day like a flash flood in a slot canyon. We encountered a lot of people teetering slowly and awkwardly up river, people who did not bring a walking stick or decided not to put out the $10 to rent one for the day. Even more people, surprisingly, were attempting this epic day long experience in flip flops or barefoot!
Here is my simple advice if you go: Bring or rent a walking stick, or two!; wear tennis shoes, hiking boots, or rent water boots near the visitor center. That’s it. If you had the great idea of exploring The Narrows don’t ruin it by forgetting these two simple necessities!
Exhausted, we walked the mile back to the shuttle, and decided to stop at the lodge for a celebratory meal and margarita. Before heading back to our cabin for the evening, we drove through the surrounding town of Springdale, which boasts a good selection of restaurants and cafes, pubs, and art galleries. We ordered take-out for dinner and headed back to our lodgings, where a swimming pool and hot tub awaited us.
Later that evening we enjoyed a ‘movie under the stars’ put on by the ranch. We made ourselves at home in the adirondack chairs in the grass and ate our pizza as we watched The Goonies on a big white screen on the side of the rec barn. We giggled and held hands and sipped our whiskey, both silently deciding that a sister road trip would become an annual event.
Stay tuned for America the Beautiful Day 3: The Grand Staircase
It’s hard to believe that 2015 is more than half over, and that I have been writing this blog for almost a year! Although posts have been more sporadic than I like, I continue to write and share this digital diary in hopes that it may inspire you to get out and explore locally or abroad.
As I look back at my Creating Travel Abundance post, it’s thrilling to see all of the wonderful adventures I have taken this year. The last several years I did not make exploring or travel a priority, and my Happy Index was low, real low. Even through some life changes, financial woes and other roadblocks, I have fulfilled every trip on the list, as well as some local adventures to the beach, camping, and visiting friends. I am grateful to all my people that have contributed in many ways to making these adventures possible.
I have just returned from {another} epic road trip, this time with my sister, through the southwest. When plans were falling into place to gather in Las Vegas for her husband’s 40th birthday in July, she suggested a sister road trip a week before the celebrations. Her tireless planning resulted in routing out our trip through Nevada, Arizona, and Utah, reserving unique sleeping arrangement including cowboy cabins and covered wagons, and EPIC road trip play list, and insuring we were always knee deep in adventure.
Zion National Park
DAY ONE: We arrived at LAS and picked up our rental car, then headed to Walmart {yes, I know} to stock up on hiking essentials– fruit, trail mix, granola bars, water -and I’m sure there was some candy and booze thrown in the shopping cart too- a quick stop for burritos, and we were off!
We traveled Interstate-15 through the Moapa Indian Reservation and the winding Virgin River Gorge, noticing dramatic changes in the landscape the further east we drove. Rugged and impressive rock formations surrounded us, ever-changing in size and color.
As we neared Zion, a one-word road sign caused us to pullover. Grafton. This name triggered a 10 minute online search that confirmed my sister’s excitement: ghost town. We turned around and drove over the one-lane bridge, and up a sun bleached dirt road, negotiating pot holes and steep inclines.
Grafton Cemetery
Established in 1859 as an agricultural settlement a la Brigham Young, the town experienced severe floodings, illness, and alleged Indian attacks. The last resident left in 1944, and today visitors can navigate the small town and its remaining buildings, learning bits of history from plaques located throughout.
Our whip, in all her glory, enjoying the open road
As our surroundings became more sheer and prominent, we decided to put the top down on our Mustang convertible– did I forget to mention, that was our sweet ride for the week??– We slowly drove through the twisting, turning switch-backs through the park, catching flashes of wild rabbits, lizards, and big horn sheep scurrying into the brush.
With our unobstructed view, we could fully embrace the magnitude of the giant sand and lime stone walls towering over us. The park forms part of the Colorado Plateau, and over millions of years, water, wind, erosion and sedimentation have contributed to the landscape seen today.
Pioneer Wagons– electricity not included!
In wide-eyed appreciation, we made our way to Zion Ponderosa Ranch and settled in to our pioneer wagon.
Meta star gazing
We ended that first night of our sister road trip star gazing and sipping whiskey, allowing that understated energy found only in the desert, to take us over.
Growing up, my family would take several trips a year to central Oregon’s high desert. We would stroll down the streets of the western themed town of Sisters, rent a house in the laid back resort of Sun River, or spend several days at Black Butte Ranch. Heading a little further south, and many a summer was spent on the shores of Diamond Lake with several day trips dedicated to exploring Crater Lake, the United State’s deepest lake.
Dreaming of nature!
So why has it been several years since I’ve returned to the area? I don’t know, but when a friend invited me on a camping trip to the very areas I’d known as a child, my answer was an enthusiastic yes! We left after work on a Friday and only had to inch our way through south bound freeway traffic for half an hour, until our exit appeared and we headed due east on open road. Via the Detroit Lake route, we passed weekend warriors with loaded up vehicles, bikes and coolers and packs secured to the roof of vans, as kids and dogs stuck their faces out of windows, eyes closed. We drove through a portion of the Deschutes National Forest as the sun was setting, arriving in the quaint and touristy two-lane town of Sisters. We stopped to stretch our legs and eat some food, deciding the town’s wood paneled saloon would do. Instead of continuing for another hour to our original destination outside of the city of Bend, we decided to backtrack and set up camp at Suttle Lake– it was dark, late, and we really just wanted to sit around a fire and have a beer.
A grey morning at Suttle Lake
After driving through several of the campgrounds around the lake, we finally found a spot and set up camp as quickly as possible. The wind was blowing fiercely at times, but I managed to start the fire as my friend was setting up the tent. After a well deserved drink or two, we turned in for the night, cozy and cramped in our 1-person tent. The next morning we made coffee over our camp stove as the weather decided what it was going to do. We then headed out to North Twin Lake, a small secluded campground tucked away from major roads and hidden by walls of Pondarosa and Lodge Pole pines.
Much more room in your own tent!
We arrived and set up camp, breathing in the dry, sweet heat of the surrounding forest. We played boardgames and Bocce Ball. We made “camper’s sangria” and ate all of our meals underneath the shade of the trees or in the sun or under the stars… where ever we wanted, completely unplugged and absolutely fine with it.
Don’t loose your Bocce Balls!Camper’s Sangria
The next morning we hiked the approximate 2-mile loop around the lake, admiring the rose-red bark and dark veins of the Pondarosa, and the multiple gardens of dwarf mistletoe that had decided to grow along the trail. We contemplated just not returning home and instead making a new life out in the high desert, among the volcano ranges that stretched east and west beyond view.
We followed the Cascade Lakes Scenic byway which then lead us through the Willamette National Forest. We left the high, dry heat and ascended into fog and mist, past Waldo and Odell Lakes, and eventually into the temperate Willamette Valley, then north 2 hours to return to Portland. I needed those three days out in nature more than I knew at the time. I needed that road trip, that temperature change. I needed to cook my food outside and sleep on the ground and drink a beer with my lunch, and to spend time in places that I used to know.
There are a lot of Best Of Guides and Top 10 lists floating around out there for nearly every major city imaginable around the world. San Francisco is no different. In fact, It has to be one of the most popular extended-weekend destinations for anyone living on the west coast.
When I first posted about Creating Travel Abundance in 2015, San Francisco was the first trip on the list. I went way back in February for a long weekend, to be a dorky tourist and to visit friends.
I meticulously noted everywhere I went and kept every receipt and brochure, expecting to write a useful post about the city by the bay.
Welp, shit happens and I decided not to do that.
Why? Honestly, there are a ton of bigger and better lists and guides out there, and I just decided to share a few highlights from my trip. But don’t fret!! At the end of the post I leave you with two stellar San Francisco resources— two people who pretty much own SF.
First time flying with Virgin America, and they even provided a killer sunrise.
No trip to San Francisco is complete without a disorienting tromp through China Town. I found myself lost for a while in the busy streets of an early Chinese New Year Celebration.
There were many opportunities to wander the busy streets of downtown, however, the street population was something I hadn’t experienced of that magnitude before–on almost a comical scale– abject poverty existing in one of the most expensive cities in the United States.
San Francisco boasts extensive public transportation systems, helping residence and visitors alike navigate the city. BART of course will get you to most places from the airport, and I purchased a 3 day MUNI Passport for $26, allowing me to ride all transportation including cable cars, streets cars, trolleys.
Maritime National Historic Park was packed with sun worshipers, and I couldn’t stop taking pictures of all the boats!
Obviously, one must visit the infamous Haight & Ashbury neighborhood when in town. Grab a drink, go record shopping, buy a hat or sunglasses, and simply revel in the wonderful weirdness of the area.
Top of the Filbert stairs provides a beautiful panorama of the bay… I’m pretty sure I was too exhausted to care what I was actually taking pictures of, however, these stairs will take you through intimate gardens and patios up to Telegraph Hill.
I’m unapologetic to say that the highlight of my trip was going to the Mission District for a burrito. Because, Burritos.
The first night I stayed at HI San Francisco Downtown. It is a good central location, but I think next time I will try out their Fisherman’s Wharf hostel to enjoy the pier vibe a bit more.
But staying with friends in Oakland is far superior to any hostel accommodations. Just look at this glorious house, fully equipped with a back porch, yard and citrus tree!
A quick stop on Treasure Island gave us a fantastic view of the “other bridge” the Oakland Bay Bridge.
And after enjoying great food and drinks all weekend long, we spent our last day together at Half Moon Bay, playing in the frigid waves, then relaxing on a blanket with snacks and beer. This is where I got to experience the famous San Francisco fog, and I enjoyed wearing a sweater after a weekend of city heat.
If you haven’t been to San Francisco before, what are you waiting for?! West coast people can find killer airline deals for around $150 round trip, check out Virgin America or Airfarewatchdog.com for those mid-week deal alerts.
As promised, here are two excellent Bay Area resources that will have you enjoying food, drink and merriment like a boss:
For all things SF and NY, Broke-Ass Stuart has created a wealth of information for people living and visiting these two vibrant cities. Included: a healthy dose of wit and grit.
Kristal at Eat & Escape masterfully creates custom itineraries for food and drink lovers in the SF and LA areas. From food trucks to fancy, she is a wealth of knowledge for getting your eat on.
Below is the final part in the Magical Mexico road trip series. There is nothing more satisfying than reliving your travel adventures over again, remembering small details that accumulate to make up your experience as a whole while on the road.
We departed from San Miguel de Allende early enough to make a few stops before arriving at our final destination of Santiago de Querétaro, Querétaro, the third UNESCO World Heritage Site on our trip. We all agreed that checking out the archaeological site of Cañada de la Virgenwas a must, a 40-acre natural reserve offering horseback riding, camping, and astrology tours. As well as guided tours through the seven Otomí and Toltec pyramid structures, built along the basin of the Laja River.
We ended up not having enough time to go on the 2.5 hour tour, but we took it upon ourselves to seek out a vista point where we could spy the pyramids from afar. The clouds were on display that day, and the surrounding hillsides crested and fell infinitely. A short stop to stretch our legs and find food, had us wandering around the small city of Celaya and its charming colonial city center. We found some amazing street empanadas and gorditas, almost got attacked by tiny dogs guarding a bathroom, and became local celebrities to two young convenient store workers who had never met Americans before.
Peeping dome in Celaya.
As we approached Qerétero, we became silently terrified as we realized the monstrous size of the city. 10 lanes of traffic, sprawling urban areas, confusing signage. In a desperate attempt to orient ourselves, I pretended to stay calm behind the wheel, while the other two frantically swiped through screen shots of maps and directions. But before we realized, we had left the madness of the frantic commercial district, and were slowly making our way to the colonial center where our room at Meson ‘D Isabel was waiting for us. As we ventured out on foot, the vast enormity of the city center unfolded before us. Every 500 meters or so we would come to a new central garden with blooming flora, cobblestone streets and impressive colonial architecture. We knew that a guided tour would be the only way to truly appreciate the history.
We walked up to a help kiosk in one of the main gardens and asked about tour options. We agreed that a tour in English would be best so as not to miss out on any details… but alas, no English tours available! One of the girls working in the kiosk spoke up and said her boyfriend speaks English and is a tour guide, and she proceeded to give us his number to call. We called, and one hour later we were jumping into 20 year old Luis’ Mustang convertible for a two hour tour of the city. Needless to say, we covered a lot of ground and a lot of history on that stunningly sunny day. The city of Querétero is comparable to the U.S city of Philadelphia, in that many important people lived and died there, great documents determining the fate of the country were signed in its buildings, and revolutions began and ended in its streets.
Historic train station.The train that brought Benito Juarez to the city, no longer carries passengers.
Charles G.’s TripAdvisor review sums up The Hill of the Bells: “Known to local residents as “Cerro de las Campanas”, this is an urban park of historical interest and site of an interesting museum. In 1867, would-be Emperor of Mexico Maximilian and his two top generals were executed for treason on the Cerro by the restored republican government of Juarez. The chapel in the park commemorates their death, while the enormous statue of Juarez on the top of the hill is in tribute to the legitimate government of Mexico.”
Me and Mr. Juarez.
The name of the park comes from the bell-like sound made from striking rocks, specific to the area, against one another. Also, FUN FACT: The creator of the huge Benito Juarez statue also build La Pipila statue we visited in Guanajuato!
Centuries-old church built by a visionary 18 year-old architect.
The aqueducts are a living piece of history, built in the mid 1700s to bring water to the city from La Cañada de la Virgen region. The dozens if not hundreds of fountains located throughout the historic center and surrounding areas provided the pressure needed to move the water throughout the city.
Vista point of the city.
The rest of our time in Querétero was spent walking around the endless plazas and gardens, admiring and occasionally buying small gifts from vendors. We drank at an Irish pub, and ate the most amazing green mole tacos known to mankind. We enjoyed the simple pleasure of drinking beer outside, listening to live music, and strong WiFi signals.
Cerveza y papas.Small mezcal/taco shop.
We parted ways in the morning, Angela catching a bus back to San Miguel, and we back to Guadalajara. The drive back took twice as long as anticipated, right around 6 hours. We missed exits, became lost on a small country road that ended abruptly into the side of a mountain, but we became pros at asking for directions.
My brilliant travel companion had the idea to return the car as soon as we got near the airport instead of waiting until the next morning when we would be leaving. It turns out that Guadalajara is huge. We laughed maniacally in the back of our taxi, thinking how impossible it would have been for us to navigate the freeway and maze of urban chaos at that point in the trip: dirty, exhausted, famished.
We checked in to Hostel International’s Hosped’arte and shuffled to our private room for the night. We had a small balcony overlooking the neighborhood, which proved the perfect spot to enjoy our Domino’s pizza and Tecate before our 2:30 am wake up call.
A Guadalajara goodbye.
I am now obsessed with the prospect of future road trips, at home and abroad, with a few more up my sleeve for this summer. Do you have any plans for a road trip in the near future or even this summer? Leave a comment and let me know where you are going!
“Y NO ME DIGAS POBRE POR IR VIAJANDO ASI. NO VES QUE ESTOY CONTENTA NO VES QUE VOY FELIZ.”
“Wait, you and two other females are driving through Mexico?? Why?”
Yes, these are some of the comments I received upon informing people of my plan to visit Mexico {for the 4th time} and road trip across the center of the country with two girlfriends. Annoying and misinformed? Yes. I can understand peoples’ initial concern if their only exposure to a country is the sensationalized version they see on the news. And I can understand general apprehension that any new activity conjures up… but why? they ask. Why not?!
I like to believe that my travel companions and I have achieved grown-up status by now. We are women. Women who work and travel and buy houses and shit. We seek adventure, and understand the implications of that. We know that scary and unfortunate things happen everywhere in the world but that is not a reason to stop going outside.
San Miguel de Allende, Gto.
Day 1: Established in approximately 1555, San Miguel de Allende is also a UNESCO world heritage site boasting dramatic baroque and neoclassical colonial structures and large plazas where families and tourists congregate. Built in the 17th century, La Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel church is located in the Plaza Allende, a grand cobblestone area, accommodating only pedestrians and the late night mariachi band.
We arrived into town without much trouble, again, finding parking very near to Hostel Inn, our domicile for two nights. Famished, we picked a narrow street and walked down it until we came across a small, family owned restaurant with an open air dinning area. For approximately $5 US, we each received spicy squash soup, a main course, coffee, a beer, and dessert.
San Miguel is where you want to be for the magic hour- that beautiful time before the sun goes down on a clear evening- everything becomes ignited with solar magic. We spent time in the plaza and entered the church, then chased the sun down a perfectly imperfect narrow street until the last rays balanced on the lip of the horizon.
We found a rooftop bar and had a drink while admiring the plaza lit up below us. We went to Milagros, a well-known bar and restaurant in search for snacks and drinks. We enjoyed another evening of relaxing, laughing, crying, sharing stories and just being together.The bar tenders invited us out for an after work drink at La Cucaracha, a bar notorious as a services industry hangout-open late to accommodate all the locals working in tourism. Jovial conversation and several shots of mezcal later, we headed back to our room for the night.
Day 2: The Hangover. Ok, so that was unexpected, but I will tell you what: Mezcal is a force to respect, and appreciate in moderation. If you have been drinking the night before, just outside of San Miguel proper is La Gruta hot springs and spa awaiting you and your pounding head. Here you will find sprawling landscape with ample seating in the sun or shade, and waiters appear out of nowhere to fetch you something from the bar.
Spread out over the property there are several pools filled with water at regular temperature, then a few more pools varying in hotness. In one pool, you must swim through a tunnel, as the water becomes progressively hotter. This leads to a huge circular soaking area covered by an enormous domed roof. It’s kind of dark, really hot and oh so good for sweating out the toxins.
San Miguel de Allende is the place for artisan handicrafts. With several open-aired markets to choose from and store fronts lining many of the streets, it is hard not to let a colorful textile lure you in. And by all means, shop and buy! Don’t be afraid to barter for a reasonable price, but if you really love that embroidered pillow case or piece of artwork, don’t leave without it.
San Miguel has a thriving artist community and is home to many foreign residents. The foreign influence is apparent with the many cafes, bars, antique shops, and galleries catering to this population. My initial reaction to this was negative, but witnessing the Mexican and foreign worlds coexisting, was refreshing. The Mexican culture was not being stifled, many businesses were thriving due to the tourism from visitors and expats, and because of its UNESCO status, the city was protected from architectural degradation or unwarranted western influences.
I believe I’m not the only one who felt a familiarity with this beautiful city; as if I had been here before. Safe and clean streets, balmy air, and a magic vibration that seemed to be following us.
After picking up takeout and margaritas to go, we ate dinner at a friend’s house, a beautiful colonial inspired house with wall to wall tiling, fountains, lush vegetation, and two rowdy dogs. We ended the night drinking a beer in the main plaza, watching a late-night progression form in front of the church with singers, musicians, people on stilts, and one lone burro.
Our flight left PDX international airport at 9pm and we were to arrive in Gudalajara, Jalisco the following morning at the ungodly hour of 3:30 am. After many failed attempts at sleeping, I resigned to pulling my scarf over my face to block out the light, and fantasized about our upcoming adventure.
Famous PDX airport carpet.
The true inception of this trip occurred over a year ago, when my dear friend since childhood, decided to leave her almost decade-long run in New York City to move to Mexico. She needed a change and has always been an avid traveler, so why not test out working remotely, improving her Spanish, and allowing herself the total freedom to go and do as she pleases?!
I was able to convince another friend, quite easily, that traveling to central Mexico and renting a car would be an awesome way to spend Spring Break. Forget the overcrowded beaches, and the all-inclusive resorts hemorrhaging cheap booze and young college students… We wanted to venture into the heart of this country, not quite knowing what we would uncover.
It was still incredibly dark out but we had somehow managed to get ourselves out of the airport complex and onto the open road. The highway was lined with street lights, none of them on; our only assistance aside from our own headlights was from passing traffic-mostly cattle trucks, rattling along in the opposite direction. They to the city, us to the unknown. The sun eventually rose, after what seemed days, and we took in our surroundings… A beautiful and vast terrain; rolling hills dotted with scrub trees and cactus; an endless sky. We referred to our hastily printed map the car rental service gave us before we left: very basic highway directions from the airport to our first destination, Guanajuato, 3 hours and 40 minutes away. We followed a trail of vague names on the paper map- these names became our new indication of when we were changing direction, taking an exit, or merging onto a new freeway. We trusted our instinct which had been dulled by years of talking devices… and we found our way!
Sunrise from a moving car.
Guanajuato, Gto.
Day 1: Established in 1559, Guanajuato is the capital of Guanajuato State, a location known world wide for its mining and silver production. The city is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and it’s easy to see why when strolling down the enchanting cobblestone alleyways, surrounded by centuries-old churches, theaters and plazas. Vibrantly painted homes narrowly ascending the surrounding hillsides make one feel like they are on a magical, romantic movie set.
Dreamy, empty alleyway.
The city is home to Universidad de Guanajuato, one of the state’s oldest universities. The bustling presence of the student body contributes to the metropolitan feel of this otherwise colonial gem, held perfectly in time. Museums, theaters, and festivals provide intellectual ardor, while Jardín de la Unión offers green space and shaded seating, shopping, and raucous mariachi bands serenading tables of drinking revelers.
To enter into the historic center, one must navigate a network of underground tunnels beneath the city, originally constructed to address the flow of traffic- although I’m convinced they were created to terrify and confuse tourists. Passing through stone carved archways and perfectly sunlit foliage, you are caught off guard when your vehicle drops suddenly, down into subterranean darkness and you are left to navigate your way blindly through middle earth.
Fortunately, we happened to be following a city bus and decided that trailing the bus was our best chance of getting out of the tunnels and finding el centro histórico. As suddenly as we had plunged into darkness,we resurfaced to find ourselves on a sunny cobblestone street next to a small plaza and a bright orange church. We would later familiarize ourselves with Plaza de la Paz and use Catedral de Guanajuato as our beacon of direction for the following 48 hours.
We miraculously found parking directly in front of the cathedral. The streets being so narrow you can not park on most of them, or they are a one-way that lead back into the tunnels, or you are sharing the road with large groups of people who can not fit on the infinitesimally narrow sidewalks. But it was all glorious. No one was honking or yelling, there was no noticeable litter or pollution like in other confined city spaces, people were holding hands and kissing, and I was mesmerized by their subtle affections.
View from our bedroom- church domeA perfect alleyway next to our hotel.
After parking, it was essential to find a room, a shower, food, and internet. After getting lost for an hour in a surrounding town and surviving off of no more than bottled water and spicy lime chips, disoriented, we stumbled down a street and poked our heads into a boutique hotel. Way too expensive. We retreated. The front desk employee spotted us and approached us just outside the entryway. We told him the situation and that we needed cheap accommodations for three people for two nights. He made a quick phone call to his friends down the road who ran a B&B and within minutes our new friend Alfredo was hoping into our car to direct us to our hotel. It was literally 2 blocks away, but because of one-way streets, we took to the tunnels to eventually get us in front of our hotel, where designated parking was waiting for us!
Michelada & Beers.
Our room at Casa del Sol consisted of three double beds and a bathroom with a shower. We bypassed the shower taking and immediately returned to the street in search of sustenance, which we found at a hip little cafe with outdoor seating. We ordered a beer, and then another. We ordered comida típica, local food of the region consisting of potatoes, peppers and onions in a red sauce served as a type of enchilada dish. We wandered the streets and came across a bakery enticing passersby with the aroma of fresh baking bread, colorful pastries, and savory stuffed everything.
Bakery Heaven.
After a late afternoon stroll around the Jardín de la Unión, we enjoyed a cold beer in an outdoor cafe, admiring the people of Guanajuato, living their lives, giving us no mind. We walked back to our room and prepared for the drive to the airport, approximately 20 kilometers outside of town, to pick up our friend- the one who lives in Mexico, but was flying in from Australia. After successfully arriving at and collecting our friend from the airport, we headed back, not knowing that we would spend the next long, dark hour lost in tunnels and back roads on hillsides.
When we did finally pull up to our hotel, relief swept over us and we triumphantly hooted and high-fived our luck. We spent the evening laughing and sharing stories over food and drinks, our words occasionally drowned out by the musician playing his guitar, or the happily drunk couple singing along. Despite the city’s location at more than 6,500 feet, the evening was temperate, requiring nothing more than a light scarf for covering. We returned to our room for the night and allowed fatigue to overcome us.
Day 2: There are worse things than walking up to the sound of church bells in central Mexico. The dedicated, if not somewhat sporadic ringing of the bells, was a constant background noise that we grew accustomed to quickly. The Templo de la Compañía de Jesús shadowed our hotel in its benign presence, reminding local residents of something that we, as outsiders, would never fully understand.
Foreboding church next to our hotel.
In a quest for breakfast, we stumbled upon a crêperie serving well prepared espresso drinks with a respectable selection of sweet and savory crepes. We hashed out the details for the day and decided to visit Museo Casa Diego Rivera first, the birthplace and childhood home of the famous muralist and husband to Frida Kahlo. For 20 pesos -approximately $1.50- you can spend a full morning admiring floor after floor of Rivera’s artwork, a theater room, and 19th century furnishings. A small gift shop offers postcards, books and other memorabilia at affordable prices.
Our next stop was to the top of the mirador to admire the giant monument of El Pípila, a local hero from the 1800s. Lonely Planet condenses the history best: “The monument to El Pípila honors the hero who torched the Alhóndiga gates on September 28, 1810, enabling Hidalgo’s forces to win the first victory of the independence movement. The statue shows El Pípila holding his torch high over the city. On the base is the inscription Aún hay otras Alhóndigas por incendiar (There are still other Alhóndigas to burn).”
A faraway view of El Pipila; the funicular we took to the top.
From this vantage point, you are guaranteed incredible photo opportunities to capture the vibrant colors of the city, and the mystery and magic that seems to be radiating from the surrounding sub-range of foot hills, a branch-off of the larger Sierra Madre Occidental range.
Follow any number of steep and winding alley ways to the bottom of the lookout and you will drop off in a bustling commercial area on the outskirts of El Mercado Hidalgo. The building which resembles a train station, was inaugurated on September 16th, 1910 by then president Porfirio Díaz, to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Mexican Independence. The mostly iron building boasts an impressive domed roof and over three dozen large windows allow natural light in, as you peruse food stands and souvenir stalls. We decided to eat at the market, and for the aquivilent of $2.50, we got a beer and a typical dish consisting of chicken, potato and grilled vegetables, salad, with a green salsa garnish.
Bustling food court in the Mercado.Iron work on display at the Mercado.Hearty meals for cheap; Just one of many Don Quixote statues found around the city.
It felt completely safe and natural to be walking the city at night. The streets were well lit, and there was a mix of young families and older residents going about their evening business. We stopped off at the Oveja Negra for a cold beer and to try the mezcal- deciding then to move on to a location with outdoor seating, the smokey, agave derived liquor causing a flush across our faces.
Our evening ended back at the hotel, visiting with the night front-desk attendant, Jorge. He invited us to enjoy the hotel’s balcony and entertained us with ghost stories and legends about the city. Tired and content, we retreated to our beds, excited to get on the road the following day heading to our second destination, San Miguel de Allende.
What is it about graveyards that intrigue us so much? Is it the idea of walking among the dead? Or perhaps it gives us time to reflect on our own mortality, an afterlife, reincarnation… For whatever reason, I thoroughly enjoy visiting graveyards when I travel. I guess it allows me to imagine the stories of the people who once were, and to marvel at the sometimes precarious and glorious locations of these final resting places. For example:
Westminster Abbey in London (humbly) boasts the forever sleeping grounds of kings, queens, poets, and inventors. This Gothic building is stunning inside and out, and appears to have a bustling economy all its own. With regular worship services, a gift shop (!) and gardens, I would consider the lines of tourists a fare trade-off to be surrounded by centuries of history and architecture.
Père Lachaise Cemetery is the largest cemetery in the city of Paris and sprawls out over 100 acres and contains over one million permanent residents. Royalty and other noteworthy call this their finally resting place, the two most notorious being Oscar Wilde and Jim Morrison. Over the years, fanatics have vandalized and defaced the tombstones, which are now guarded or encased for protection. Of course I wouldn’t think twice to hop a fence and spend a few quite moments alone with either…a little wine, a book of poetry. Ok, I’ll stop.
Arlington National Cemeteryis a somber reminder of the casualties of war. John F. Kennedy’s eternal flame resides here, and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is faithfully guarded receiving the Changing of the Guard ceremony once an hour on the hour. I have been to Virginia and have walked the white headstone lined rows; in 8th grade, my class was given the opportunity to travel to Washington DC and surrounding areas to see our history book come alive. Another stop on our tour was the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, an experience I can still remember freshly. It was dusk and humid. I couldn’t stop sweating as I approached the black wall with thousands of names etched into it. The air was extremely thick and there were hundreds of people around, but it was deathly silent. I reached out to touch the wall, and saw a man with a small piece of paper and a pencil shading over an engraved name. I looked away, and glancing up I saw the space around me illuminated by lightening bugs. It was a very surreal moment for my 12 year old self to grasp, but I can still recall that day vividly.
OK. Now back to my neck of the woods. A few short weeks ago in mid- November, I knew the busty, balmy days of fall were running thin so I felt an urge to escape to a few graveyards for a photo opp and general enjoyment. With my 7 year old in tow, we visited two cemeteries, took pictures, and marveled at the unapologetic show the leaves were giving us that day.
Stoic marble headstone at Pioneer CemeteryContemporary headstone
The first graveyard we visited was the Multnomah Park Pioneer Cemetery located on 82nd and Southeast Holgate, just east of downtown Portland. Based on information from several websites, the cemetery was established in 1888 by several families, including the Lents family- who later established the neighborhood of Lents near by (were I currently live!) There was an actual service taking place while we were there, so we didn’t stay as long as we would have liked to, but we still managed to get some interesting shots. A majority of headstones were marked in Cyrillic script and surrounded by masses of floral arrangements, and the juxtaposition of laser-engraved marble headstones to those apparently carved or etched by hand was eerie but intriguing.
Eva Bertha and Baby
Located in the Buckman neighborhood of Southeast Portland, the Lone Fir Cemetery sprawls out over 30 wooded acres and remains an attraction to tourists and locals alike. According to the Friends of Lone Fir Cemetery website, I learned that the first burial took place around 1846 and is the final resting place to many pioneers, immigrants, and former Portland politicians. The cemetery has an active volunteer group which maintains grave sites as well as hosting events through out the year, including the Halloween inspired Tour of Untimely Departures.
Among the many buried here, I wanted to quickly highlight Dr. Hawthorne, the man who established the Oregon Hospital for the Insane back in 1862, and who’s surname has contributed to street names, a bridge, and an entire neighborhood district. According to the Friends of Lone Fir Cemetery,
“Dr. Hawthorne was forward-thinking, realizing that those in his care maintained their humanity and deserved ‘moral treatment’. He gave his patients time outdoors, holiday celebrations, religious observances and musical performances. They grew their own food and all who could were engaged in gainful activities.“
Along with Dr. Hawthorne himself, many of these patients are laid to rest at Lone Fir.
Stunning colors at Lone Fir Cemetery
Our visit here was spent marveling at the brilliant foliage, and relishing the final days of fall. Whenever I visit the cemetery, I feel invigorated by the natural surroundings, and I feel grateful that the city I live in has respect for the past and the people who shaped it.
MacLeay Mausoleum
So dear readers, I challenge YOU to seek out an adventure in graveyard hunting.! Do a quick internet search and I think you will be surprised to see how many forgotten graveyards exist, tucked away in corners of your town or city, just waiting for you to come and explore. Leave a comment below and let me know what you find!
Obligatory leaf throwing
Next time, on Graveyard Shift Travel: a birthday romp around the city in search of chocolate, booze, and an Italian shopkeeper.
“Y NO ME DIGAS POBRE POR IR VIAJANDO ASI. NO VES QUE ESTOY CONTENTA? NO VES QUE VOY FELIZ?”
Graveyard Shift Travel 