For the third time in four years, welcome back, Jutta! This is my mother-in-law, Jutta Engelhardt, and her amazing daughter, Caroline Wise, seeing each other for the first time in a couple of years.
Los Angeles – Day 2
We stayed overnight at the Regency Inn in Huntington Beach (later changed to Best Western Surf City), which is where we spent our first night in America when we came over from Germany to get married back in 1994. So, while this woman might look kinda nerdy at other times, at the ocean, she looks downright sexy and cute.
This is the Richard Nixon Library & Birthplace in Yorba Linda, California. This bulletproof Ford Lincoln was built in the 1960s and was used by Presidents Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, and Ronald Reagan.
This is also the final resting place of our 37th president, with his wife, Pat Nixon, on his right. With this visit, it was time to leave for our 376-mile drive home to Scottsdale, Arizona.
Los Angeles – Day 1
We left Friday night in order for us to get an early start this morning as we are meeting up with our friend Mark Shimer again, this time for a visit to the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach. This is our first visit to this aquarium after our long infatuation with the Monterey Bay Aquarium.
There are some beautiful exhibits here, and I can imagine that if I were a kid on a field trip, I’d fall in love with all things ocean.
I guess this finally answers the question once and for all if anyone else was wondering if fish had lips.
Jellies must be a universal display item in aquariums due to the weightless otherworldly floating tranquility they embody. Add some ambient music and mute the sounds from the rest of the aquarium, and the visitor nearly mind-melds with these gelatinous Medusozoas.
Before those jellyfish were allowed to get their tentacles into our brains, we managed to escape for a visit across the water at the Queen Mary. From here, we parted company with Mark and started making our way back across Los Angeles.
Our first stop was at the Mission San Gabriel Arcángel, where we focused on visiting the gardens.
From there, it was off to Puddingstone Lake at the Frank G. Bonelli Regional Park in San Dimas. When I was a kid, and my primary means of transportation was a bicycle my friends and I would pedal the 8 miles up this way to go fishing. This was a lot closer than the 15 miles each way when we’d push our bikes up into Los Angeles Crest Mountains north of Azusa or the 31 miles down Hacienda Blvd to Beach Blvd and Huntington Beach when we were feeling seriously adventurous. During our visits to L.A., I try to share with Caroline some of the sights I grew up with at the same time, trying to discover the places I never saw.
My father, who is now shorter, just had his left leg amputated though it was taken off below the knee, so it is longer than the right. He’s been on the “chipping away” plan with doctors starting by taking toes when gangrene set in years ago and then a bit more foot, the whole foot, the leg up to the knee, and then over the knee. At this point, you might wonder why he doesn’t start dealing with his diabetes in some sensible way. Well, first, he would have had to stop smoking two packs of cigarettes a day. Once he finally accomplished that feat ten years after having his first and second heart attacks, he felt that his diabetes could be kept at bay with a strong will. Now considerably shorter than the six-foot frame he once had, he’s still not ready to deal with the ravages of diabetes and would rather live in denial. Visiting my father is difficult.
Native Lands in AZ, NM, CO – Day 3
The beautiful San Juan mountains are just astonishing, and on a calm morning, seeing these colors reflected in still waters was a kind of eye candy that only out of the perfection of nature can such a scene be realized.
Funny how just as quickly as we reach our ultimate destination, we are already heading back the other way, not that it won’t be loaded with detours such as this particular view along the Million Dollar Highway in southwest Colorado.
Beaver dams are incredible works of engineering that blow my mind that a furry little 40-pound semi-aquatic mammal can construct a dam that holds back so much water and radically alters our landscape building new ecosystems along the way. It’s truly a shame that we hunted them nearly to extinction in Europe and carelessly took all we wanted here in America for fashion when beaver pelt hats were all the rage. I’m yet to see one of these elusive animals in the wild, but it’s not for lack of trying.
As gorgeous as the landscape is, I can’t help but ponder how people of European descent got to claim these lush lands while the original Native American settlers of North America have been pushed to the most inhospitable lands the country has to offer. While I love the sights of the Navajo Nation and Hopi Reservations, they are very arid places that make everything about living there difficult.
We are back in New Mexico, passing through Shiprock, named after this inselberg or monadnock in the distance. A monadnock is an isolated rock hill, knob, ridge, or small mountain that rises abruptly from a gently sloping or virtually level surrounding plain. To the Navajo, it is known as Tsé Bitʼaʼí, meaning “rock with wings” or “winged rock,” and is a sacred site.
These landscapes carve out a place in our senses as deep as they stand out in our vision. Our good fortune of being able to place ourselves in such dramatically beautiful locations is a bit of luck that it seems many cannot appreciate. I can only say this due to how many times we are asked how we endure the monotony of the open road, as though sights like this don’t leave indelible impressions.
Native Lands in AZ, NM, CO – Day 2
I’ve probably told this story once too many times, but these trips of discovery where we careen through the landscape with the sole objective of becoming oriented with what’s what and what’s where are sometimes tinged with a tiny bit of regret that we don’t have more time to immerse ourselves in a place that is so fascinating that a couple of hours will never do justice to our experience and knowledge. Chaco Culture National Historical Park is just one of those places.
There’s an enormous amount of history to learn of here and the complexes that make up this abandoned site. From ground level to the kivas below and above the cliffs where ancient trails and other structures beckon our attention, we will not be able to do justice to understanding the smallest fraction of Chaco and what it meant to the early Puebloans and other indigenous peoples who may have visited here so many years and centuries ago.
Chaco is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and deservedly so. Until the 19th century, Chaco had the largest man-made buildings in North America, and to stand here among the millions of stones that were carefully placed in order to build such structures leaves us in awe. Fortunately, this northwest corner of New Mexico is only about 360 miles from where we live, and hopefully, that will allow us to return again.
How many hands over how many years chipped away at these rocks in order to make relatively uniform sizes that could be fitted together to make these walls? Some of the structures were up to four stories tall, and it has been estimated that Chetro Ketl alone was made up of as many as 50 million hand-placed stones.
Our drive out of New Mexico takes us into Colorado to the old mining town of Silverton, this was along the way.
Native Lands in AZ, NM, CO – Day 1
I’m finally going to teach Caroline a lesson, as she’s been pestering me to stay at one of these old-timey Route 66 joints. I had warned her multiple times about the poor condition and run-down nature of these cheapo motels, but she persisted. Then last night, on our way down Interstate 40 in Holbrook, Arizona, I spotted a place that was super cheap at $19.95 a night, and I figured super bad. Matter of fact it was so bad the person at the desk let us have the room for our late check-in for only $16.95. My smug attitude was singing, “Well, this will teach her!” The thing is, I was the one taught the lesson when I realized that this place wasn’t half bad and that we were saving so much money was great too, in that it allowed Caroline to add to her souvenir budget, not that I’d be any more willing to stop at gift shops.
Wow, I never thought I’d go to a Native American parade, but here I am on the Navajo Reservation by Window Rock for the annual Navajo Nation Fair. There are more pickup trucks here per capita than maybe anywhere else in America, including Texas. There is also an abundance of roadside food vendors cooking up mutton and offering roasted pine nuts.
Small-town parades are the best. While the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day and Rose parades are ones of grandeur and spectacle, these parades out in the middle of our country are hometown affairs featuring local talent and simple pride.
Yei Bi Chei (Yébîchai) dancers perform the “Night Chant” in the healing ceremony of the Diné. The word “Diné” translates to “The People” among those we call the Navajo.
There is so much we do not understand, such as how to interpret the various motifs and symbolic elements that represent important aspects of the Diné and their culture. Cultural imperialism is a tragedy that shows no end; if the dominant culture cannot crush a people, it can simply push it to the margin ignoring its existence and thus removing it from our group consciousness.
An incredible burst of color and spirit while the pow-wow drums keep time and the nation of the Navajo comes out to celebrate their heritage. How can this be shared with others who could help make events such as this part of the mainstream where people would travel the world to be here on such momentous days?