Nearing the conclusion of our trip to Portland, we couldn't help but draw it out a little longer by taking the "fruit loop" around Mount Hood. As 84 got busier, we diverged onto 35 where produce stands sell fruit, nuts, vegetables, and other locally grown produce from the side of the road.
No, not that Stonehenge, the other one. The one along the Washington-Oregon border that some road baron built along with his utopian society. Samuel Hill had dreams of creating an ideal quaker community. Instead, his home is now an art museum and he is, possibly best known for his concrete reproduction of Stonehenge. The Maryhill Stonehenge happens to hold the distinction of being the first WWI memorial in the United States built to honor the dead. It may have helped that it was built before the war was even over. At the time, scholars considered Stonehenge to be a place of human sacrifice. As a Quaker, Hill considered building his Stonehenge as a reminder that people were still being sacrificed to the god of war.
We wing things. That's what we do. I've made a map of places we would like to go to and then base our routes on our final destination and what mapped points fall between our current location and destination. Exactly how our trip plays out each time is something we play by ear. In this case, we had ten days to travel to Oregon. Half way in, we discovered that we would be swinging by Arches National Park. Arches ranks as one of the most exciting National Parks that neither of us has ever visited. So, of course, we went.
For your consideration, we present: PUMPNIT—a vanity license plate we encountered at a pungent rest stop in Utah. It took a heavy foot on the accelerator to keep pace with the truck in order to preserve this moment for posterity in photographic form.
Were you aware that the cinema classic, Cannibal: The Musical, like Fargo, is based on true events? Indeed, a quick trip to Grand Junction in Colorado Territory will reveal a schpadoinkle display on the ill fated journey of Alfred Packer.
The Holy Grail is in Grand Junction, Colorado. It sits in a plexiglass case case in the Museum of the West. At least, they thought it was the Holy Grail. In 1910 when the Chalice of Antioch was first discovered, it toured the world as the Holy Grail. It competed for attention at the 1933 Chicago World Fair. It took over thirty years before anyone noticed that the piece was from the 4th or 5th century. To add insult to injury, the spoil sports at the Walters Art Museum question whether the artifact even warrants the title of chalice as it is more likely an ornate lamp.
While driving through one of the most scenic highways in America (a stretch of highway 70 through White River National Forest) we discovered that we would be driving past Doc Holiday's Grave in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. Apparently, he came to Glenwood Springs for treatment before succumbing to consumption. We had just come through Tombstone, AZ a few months before, so we considered this an appropriate stop. While the hike to the graveyard was only half a mile, the elevation had us huffing and puffing. But we were rewarded, not only with the monument to Doc Holiday, but a spectacular view.
In what is clearly nature's escalation in geologic awesomeness for our exclusive delight, Colorado sought to out-do Kansas's Monument Rocks with the Garden of the Gods. This rock formation features slabs of earth turned nearly vertical to form a unique ridge of stone. On such a beautiful day, the park was swamped in tourists enjoying the first warm day after a surprise spring blizzard had piled the city high with snow only a week ago. In a way, we almost couldn't blame the other cars that had filled the parking lot. Of course everyone would want to get in on this beauty. We were content to drive the main loop twice before heading on.
Most people go to museums to experience professionally curated art. We rely on the road and serendipity to guide our experiences. Such was the case when we had an hour to kill in Colorado Springs and a general heading—one that took us near the house of the kinetic artist, Starr Kempf. While Kempf may be constructing etherial whirligigs beyond this mortal coil, several of his striking structures still grace the front yard of his former home.
We love National Parks with massive rock formations. But the title of "National Park" tends to also be synonymous with "overcrowded." There is, of course, a paradox in National Parks: they are meant to preserve unique natural wonders but also share them at the same time. Rarely are those two missions compatible. That is why it is great to visit stunning parts of America that haven't quite become National Parks. Instead, they could be, say, a National Natural Landmark like, Kansas' Monument Rocks.