Footloose Western Dreams

We arrived in San Francisco ready to begin our Footloose Western Dreams (May, 1999)  trip, arriving before we left home, compliments of the extra day gained at the International Date Line. It was a big weekend in San Francisco, involving the Beach to Bay fun-run through the city and it went right past our hotel, the Renoir. It is an old Deco beauty overlooking a soup kitchen on one side, a strip joint on another and the police station on the third. We had a lovely time in the city, walking many kilometers and taking in all the usual sights - Chinatown, Telegraph Hill, Fisherman's Wharf, Nob Hill, the Golden Gate area and of course, where we were staying, at the dodgy end of town, the Tenderloin. We took in a few sights outside the city too - Muir Woods, Sausilito and Alcatraz. We enjoyed the food and the atmosphere.  And watching our first hummingbird feeding on a good Aussie bottlebrush in Golden Gate Park. Even the beggars seemed cheerful enough!

After an early start on the appointed morning, we were waiting for our Footloose tour leader, all a bit tentative at first - 7 Poms and 4 Aussies (including us). Then came the unmistakable southern drawl of our cool, efficient and laid-back tour leader. In no time we were off in the big white van with the blue tarp on top that was to be our transport for the next 2 weeks. The brief supermarket shopping stop set us up in our catering groups for the duration. Surprisingly, supermarket shopping made me feel more like a real person with everyday responsibilities than a surface-skimming tourist. Following a side trip involving a leisurely float down the Stanislaus River on two rubber rafts, we set out in earnest for Yosemite.

Yosemite National Park, from El Capitan to Half Dome, can be seen spread out in front of you  at a vantage spot shortly after entering the park. It was dark as we set up camp at Lower Pines, amid a bit of bear paranoia, making sure that all foodstuffs and even toiletries were  locked away in the secure "bear boxes" provided. Morning revealed our spectacular location with an impossibly grand backdrop of soaring,  snow-capped mountains with a clear, rushing stream beside us. It also revealed that the night noises were not bears, but "the biggest darn 'coon you ever saw" according to the bloke in the next campsite. The next few days saw us in various groups hiking to placenames we'd all only read about. Bob and my walks took us to and above Mirror Lake (the circuit path around it was blocked),  Yosemite Falls, and various tracks through the valley. Our biggest hike was to Nevada Falls, via the Mist Trail (so named because of the clouds of mist coming off Vernal Falls, where we took a break en route) and returning via the John Muir Trail. (There goes pioneer conservationist, John Muir again. I'd never heard of him before, but we were to follow in his very large footsteps many more times on our USA/Canada visit.) As it transpired, May was a wonderful time to visit this area because of the volume of water coming over the falls and the snows still melting. There were many other spectacular sights to be seen by driving around the park. Just before leaving we had a short walk through Mariposa Grove to see the Redwoods, in particular, the Grizzly Giant, the largest living thing! The Park facilities were good, especially the free bus, but as in most US national parks, the coffee was dreadful!

Barstow is a very forgettable stop in a flat and featureless landscape, mostly famous for getting a mention in the song, Route 66 and for its outlet-style shopping. But it had a good campground, well located between Point A (Yosemite) and Point B (Zion Canyon) when the mountain passes are not open. For that reason, it is very popular with trekking holiday groups in their white vans with blue or green or red tarps up top. Regardless of their tarps, they all have identical green 2-man tents. If you were to go away to the showers, you could return to an entirely different configuration of little green tents, if a couple of vanloads were to set up in your absence.

Zion Canyon is the closest thing I saw to any Australian-like landscape. It is not unlike some of the Central Australian gorges in its colouring. But it doesn't have that o-l-d crumbling look. We  went first to possibly its best known feature, The Narrows. We walked along the (wheelchair accessible) Riverside walk, but, because of the amount of flow, Park advice was against walking in the river up to Narrows, the the point where you can touch both sides of the gorge. We did our major hikes the next day, taking in Emerald Pools and later climbing up the zigzag path (or in American, the switchbacks) to Angel's Landing. Some of our party, but not Bob and I, climbed to the very top and claimed to see a rattlesnake on their way down. The views were fantastic and, although it was hot, it was a dry heat and did not feel too debilitating in the noonday sun.

Bryce Canyon has the highest altitude of the three canyons we visited. In fact, the lowest strata of rocks visible at Bryce is the same as the uppermost layer at Zion and the lowest level at Zion forms the uppermost layer at the Grand Canyon. The journey between Zion and Bryce provided some amazing canyon scenery. We needed our winter woolies when we hauled out at Inspiration Point. We took a rim walk between the next two outlooks, Sunrise and Sunset Points (but there was superb scenery everywhere) and then we headed down in amongst the hoodoos (weathered spires of rock) as we threaded our way along the Navajo Trail and the Queen's Gardens loop. Though there were crowds at the main scenic lookouts, there were surprisingly few people on the trails. Our campsite for the night was the nearby Kodachrome State Park, which offered its own hoodoos in more muted silvery tones.

Lake Powell, our next stop, was a long drive through the gravel backroads of yet more  fantastic canyons. The Burr Trail offered spectacular, almost surreal scenery as our guide coaxed the van expertly through a series of hairpin bends and hair-raising switchbacks to the plains below. A ferry took us across Lake Powell, formed by the damming of Glen Canyon. Despite the millions of litres of water in the lake, the landscape is still very dry. It was at this campsite that we painted the van to celebrate Shirley's "Happy Birthappyday" and almost lost the tape of Nellie the Elephant, our would-be themesong, out the window!

Monument Valley was high on my list of "viewing musts" in the States. More desert driving and more spectacular landscapes saw us setting up at Mitten View campgrounds, which, not surprisingly, had a perfect view of the Mittens and other formations well known to anyone who has watched western movies or even Forest Gump. Some of our party took the opportunity to sleep out under the stars, secure in the knowledge that rain was highly unlikely in this part of the desert. Our 11 hour sunset horse ride blew out to 21 hours and we had to think seriously about how much to tip our Navajo guides. They were very patient with novice riders and their horses knew just where to pose for photos with the most scenic backdrops. 

The Grand Canyon viewed from the tower at the Desert View entrance is breath-taking, even when you are psyched up for it. From there, you can see the Colorado River that formed the canyon way down below. And it just gets better! Though there are lots of hikers walking down into the canyon, the vast majority of visitors are satisfied with the view from the rim. After our rim walk, we studied our options for the next day. Bob and I decided on a ranger guided walk along the South  Kaibab Trail. More impressive than the ranger's expert geological and ecological interpretation was his inspiring awe of the place after 20+ years of working there. In hindsight, this hike was a wise move because the hailstorm we watched brewing over on the north rim struck just as we arrived safely back at camp. We were in time to secure our campsite, but the members of our party who had tackled the Bright Angel Trail as far as Plateau Point returned looking very  wet, cold and bedraggled. We left the area after a flight-seeing excursion over the extravaganza of it all, and the winding Colorado digging it still deeper.

Las Vegas was very much an optional extra in my mind. But I was surprised with just how much I enjoyed the shrine to greed and money. It was Memorial Day weekend when we got there and a full moon to boot. If you're going to see Las Vegas, you might as well see it at its gaudiest best, totally crowded and absurdly unreal. We called in on Caesar's Palace, Treasure Island, Bellagio, New York- New York, Excalibur, Luxor  and more, even taking a limo to Fremont Street - all without gambling a cent. Our favourite was an older gambling palace, the Flamingo, with its extensive gardens and flamingoes (what else!). And we enjoyed our evening at the EFX show at MGM Grand. The food was of the "all you can eat for a price" variety. Heaps of it and cheap, but pretty tasteless!

The final day was spent mostly on the road to LA, naturally very busy at the conclusion of the Memorial Day weekend. LA itself was just a place to lay our heads at a hotel near the airport, ready for the morning flight to Alaska. And to say our goodbyes to the Footloose trekkers and our intrepid guide.