back, burnt, and chapped

(The most flattering picture of me in Vegas.)

We're back from our Las Vegas-Road Trip-Camping-Extravaganza. If that sounds like a weird mix, it really is. Last Saturday we loaded up Russell and drove and drove and drove all day and part of the night to LV. There we were entertained by hubby's parents with golfing, swimming, several butt expanding buffets, booze and slots. Lots o' slots. Ting-ling, ting-ling, ting-ling. Hubby's mom is quite the gambler, and she wanted to show us all the new casinos. If you ask me, they all look and sound the same, but we went along for the sake of when in Vegas... The hounds we fairly good, but there was an incident with a door scratched by two excited pups. The next day we put them in doggy day care and had their nails clipped. It seemed to help a wee bit.



On Wednesday morning, we headed out from the neon metropolis to take the scenic route home. First stop, Zion National Park. There's a reason Zion is called that. It is, in a word, unfuckingbelievablybeautiful. Before entering the park, we stopped a darling fruit store/stand with picnic tables, large trees and home make breads for sale.



But the campgrounds were full and the day was young, so onward into Utah we drove. We camped in Red Canyon... in 32 degree comfort. Then drove to Bryce Canyon. Then the middle of nowhere for several hundred miles. Quick stop in Kodachrome State Park where hubby just couldn't stop taking pictures of this:


I don't know why.

Then Escalante canyons. More middle of nowhere for several more hundred miles. Capital Reef National Park. Then, pause, take a breath... camping in Glen Canyon on the Colorado River with 3 other human beings.

Where we watched the sun set feeling like the last two people on Earth.


And the moon rise. Blurry, but you get the idea.


Not to be undone, we made an appearance at Natural Bridges NP, which, if you saw the news, has an outbreak of the bubonic plague. Who needs souvenirs when you've got the plague? Hundreds of desolate highway miles later, we swung around the 4 Corners, snapped a shot with the hounds and moved into Colorado again.



Climbing into the San Juans, we camped in the most beautiful and nearly empty campground near Vallacito Reservoir.


We stopped for breakfast the next morning in Pagosa Springs at a little bakery worth revisiting. Then we climbed over Wolf Creek Pass and down again into the San Luis Valley. A quick stop at the Great Sand Dunes and we were officially pooped.



And sun burned. And chapped. And in need of a shower. Stat. We were also out of scenic route and back on the Interstate.

It's a strange feeling, going from pure isolation, slow moving byways, small towns, dramatic views, to rushed and hurried, stale, chain stores that look like everywhere else. When we woke up in Glen Canyon, the sun was cresting a wall of red rock, casting purple shadows on the ground and canyons in front of us. The lazy Colorado kept going, unaware of the beauty it created a gazillion years ago. There were three other people with us in the canyon, we knew we were there, but we couldn't see each other. It was if hubby, the dogs and I were the only life in the canyon that morning. When I see this beautiful gift the Earth gives us, I can't help but shake my head in disbelief on how we treat it in return.