In the early 1900s, mail carriers flew small planes across the country. Aviation arrows were placed along the route across the USA to help the pilots safely find their way. Many of these arrows are on private land, but there are some that are on public land that you can visit! I am not entirely sure how to know which are on public vs. private, yet. There are a few sites out there that help find them all, but it is up to you to research which you can actually see.
On the day we arrived in Utah, my boyfriend, Brian, and I attempted to see one that was possibly on private property. Since it also happened to be really hot outside, my interest waned quickly. I didn’t want to start hiking uphill just to find out we weren’t allowed to go farther. We skipped that arrow so we could go off to Zion. Saving that one for the next time.
Determined to visit a cool piece of history, Brian found another arrow that we could attempt to see at the end of our trip, on our way back to SGU.
The aviation arrow he found is up atop a hill in a suburban enclave. We started up the dirt hill in the hot sun. There was not much of a path when we went, but it may not be the case now. There were some parts that I got concerned about since we also had to walk back down. Slippery dirt and all. Also, I wasn’t super excited about getting completely sweaty before a flight, but persisted. I was excited that Brian was so determined to see the arrow because that forced me to climb. This was not the easiest hike, but also not the most awful, in the end. I think I was slightly panicked about making our flight and therefore felt like the hike was harder than it was.
Finally, we got to the top and saw the arrow. There was a guest book, which was really neat since I have never done any type of hike or activity that had one.
I am very glad we put forth effort to see this incredibly cool piece of American history. We hope to be able to see as many as possible. It is a great idea to plan a whole trip around, actually. Pick an arrow and explore the whole area around said arrow.
“Thanks for helping my planecestors, arrow!” said the plane.
You can see the arrow at the top of the hill. It is realllly tiny in this picture.
(click the photos for the captions)
I pretty much whined about possibly being late for our flight for the entire hike. SGU is a really small airport. We returned the car and were at the gate in probably 10 minutes. I am such a baby sometimes.
A few years ago, I won a contest to Zion from A to Zion. Since the server this blog was on was not working, I never did finish posting about the trip.
Brian’s and my flight was delayed from Denver, so unfortunately, we lost a few hours on our first day in Zion. The shuttle from the airport costs way more than renting a car, so Brian and I opted for the wheels from Alamo. St. George has a nice and small airport so finding the car rental was a cinch.
I have a fascination with aviation arrows and knew there were some around St. George. Though I had a map printed out, we were unable to find the first arrow. We weren’t sure if the land was private or not and didn’t want to risk trespassing. Also, it was really hot out, so we postponed that search so we can get to our hotel, Flanigan’s Inn, in Springdale.
I cannot say enough nice things about this place. The staff was extremely nice. The room was lovely, clean and comfortable with a balcony that had an out of this world view. AND. . . it is the closest hotel to the entrance of Zion National Park. They were kind enough to leave me this lovely note and gifts.
We threw down our luggage and got right into our hiking clothes to hike Emerald Pools, since it is an easy hike.
I have been to Red and Bryce Canyons, but Zion quickly rose to the top for me. The deep red and browns, with perfect fluffy clouds made for an almost out-of-body experience. It felt like a nature-Disneyland. So beautiful, that I had wished the sun would not go down. Utah, for the win.
On the hike, there was a little girl that kept clapping her hands together, yelling at her Dad, “CHOP CHOP!” Pretty funny. Then we passed a gaggle of girls that were all talking at the same time, with not one actually listening to the others. I don’t miss being that young. Then we got to the waterfall! Everyone loves a waterfall!!!
For dinner, we went to the Spotted Dog at Flanigan’s Inn, which I definitely recommend. The dinner was outstanding. They played Nora Jones, so she will forever be associated with that pleasant evening. I really like getting stuff for free and the dinner was included in my winnings.
The next morning, I woke up very early so I could walk up to the labyrinth to see the sunrise. Yes. Flanigan’s Inn has a labyrinth!!! I went up alone and enjoyed the silence as the sun arose. (Their labyrinth is flat on the ground and not like “The Shining.”) I spent quite a while there since I knew there was NO way Brian was going to be awake yet. Then I had to walk down. It is not a tall hill, by any means, but when I realized that snakes like sunrise, too, it became the longest walk ever. No snake sightings, though. I have never actually seen a rattle snake in the wild and am hoping to keep it that way.
We fit in two hikes that Tuesday. Neither required a permit and were both fairly easy and not too lengthy. Per weather.gov, I knew it was going to rain, so we hoped to get the hikes in before it was to start in the later afternoon.
The first one we did was Weeping Rock. Gorgeous, with water seeping out of the rocks above. GORGEOUS!
The second was the Riverside Walk, which is a very simple walk that leads to the Narrows. As we were walking, the sky made it clear that it was ready to spout upon all of the hikers. Parks are always extremely clear about dangers within and Zion was sure to have warnings about lightning and flash floods. So, when we found ourselves right by a river with no safe cover when the torrential rain began to pour, I may have been a bit panicky. We started to walk back quickly as the drizzle began, and I kept believing we wouldn’t get wet, but, as I became more and more drenched, it became more and more fun. We were in hiking clothes so who cares how soaked we got? It was exhilarating and romantic. Also, cold. Wet clothes can definitely get cold.
We snagged a shuttle back to the entrance, where we had tickets to see a movie about Zion.
The movie was weird. Just weird. It was a story about the evolution of people dwellers in Zion and hmm. Sure. So, when that was done, we got massages, available at Flanigan’s Inn, which is always a nice perk. The rain had finally stopped, so we thought we were good for the evening.
We had the rental car, but I made us take the shuttle for the fun of it. So, when we first checked in, the front desk told us about the shuttles to/from the rest of the town (on Zion Park Blvd.), and also the ones that are within Zion. I did not remember when the last shuttle back to the hotel was, which proved to be an unfortunate mistake later. Slight foreshadowing: We went to a store across the street and randomly bought water/hiking shoes before we hopped on the shuttle.
Brian and I perused the stores until we needed food. For that, we chose pizza and noodles at The Flying Monkey and sat outside. At a metal table. As we ate, it began to rain again. I got my first ever picture of lightning. I probably took 800 pictures until I got it. We enjoyed the rain and our pizza as we gazed into the street, watching a shuttle go by and thinking nothing of it.
Dinner was finished and the rain was coming down so hard it was kind of opaque. We dashed across the street to the covered shuttle area and waited. And waited. And waited. We called Flanigan’s to ask when the last one would come. Oh, shit. The last shuttle left at 9. The shuttle we watched while eating. Neither of us had paid any attention to how far away our hotel was and it was dark and really stormy. I have no explanation why I did not just look at a map on my phone. I can’t remember if I had reception issues. Let’s go with that. Funny how my mind works. We went to a bar, Wildcat Willie’s, to try to wait out the rain. I ran into the store next door to buy some safety items to get back, like a flash light, ponchos and a bright orange bag so we would be visible to cars. AND.. we had those new SHOES! After I purchased everything, I mention to the store clerk, Spencer, how derp we were and he said if we waited until he was finished closing the store, he would take us back to the hotel. AND THAT is why I love smaller towns. So, Brian and I wait him out with some wine, beer and chips, buying a brownie for Spencer as our thank you. Finally, I go to Google to find out how far away our hotel is…. When Spencer was done, we hopped into his car and arrived at our hotel in less than 5 minutes. But, at least we have a cool bright orange bag that we now bring with us on every trip. The most important thing in it now is the wine opener.
Day 1 of our epic cross country adventure- This trip we left from LA, heading East as I would eventually drop off Jenn in Chicago for a visit with her fam before I headed on to friends in Massachusetts. With previous trips that started out as a 4 day excursion but wound up with us still on the road 2 weeks later roaming and discovering where we might end up next, we were well prepped for these travels.
First up, the world’s tallest thermometer located in Baker, the Gateway to Death Valley, because if you can’t find a ball of string big enough in these parts a thermometer embodying all that is grand about Americana culture will do.
Next stop, Las Vegas. Leave it to us to treat Sin City as a pit stop and a place to “do lunch”, but we needed to refuel, which we did at The PBR Rockbar on the strip.
We didn’t need to dance ‘til dawn this time around- been there, done that a dozen times – although we did miss our usual poolside service with cocktails topped off with toasted coconut at The Cosmopolitan, but this day we dined outdoors, beneath its looming exterior, remembering its glistening chandeliers, at the appropriately named The Chandelier bar and morning-after recovery brunches at Wicked Spoon, which we were wickedly tempted to try again, but were more than satisfied by our bold bar food selections and our sidewalk patio setting, watching the variety of people Vegas has to offer on display passing by. We skipped drinking PBR’s and stuck with root beers as it was back on the road for us following our meal.
The next test for us was to pass through the Valley of Fire without being burned. No problem for these two pros as we safely entered Utah, but only temporarily were we secure, for next up was an unexpected encounter with dinosaurs!
The Dinosaur Discovery Site at Johnson Farm in St. George. Containing some of the best preserved tracks and fossils, which were discovered during a real estate project to level some land, and dating back more than 195 million years, this gem is a true Jurassic Park to treasure, and just as much fun for us to be let loose in.
Beaver would be where we would settle that first night, but not before we let off a little restless energy at Renegade Lounge.
This one stoplight town, and one bar, thanks to some sort of grandfather clause, as told to us the last time we were there by the guy whose grandfather owned the place, is the local hot spot. That’s right, this wasn’t our first time in these parts and served as a familiar go-to drinking hole, as it did for the other patrons passing through or seasonal workers stationed there. As soon as we arrived, Toto, we realized we weren’t in Los Angeles anymore. A group of friendly guys chatted us up, invited us to join them, bought us drinks and even offered up the delivery pizza they had at their table. (Those looking for a light bite can help themselves to the popcorn machine on the bar top.) Not one asked us if we were in the biz, or even what biz for that matter. There was simply actual human interaction and conversation taking place. And they were ever so much more interesting than any A-list celebs I’ve met. These guys weren’t just delightfully social, turns out they were death defying. I’ve had my share of crappy day jobs, from working for a pent up office manager who wanted me to decorate all of her binders with pretty patterns of wallpaper cover sheets and stylish font styles when labeling them to a high powered portfolio manager with unmanaged anger, who couldn’t make eye contact but could scream at you from down the hall and an office away. His former assistant quit in tears. I stuck it out amused by his issues. But unlike our new acquaintances, I had never risked my life by going below ground, surrounded by deadly gas at a geothermal plant drilling for hot water. Cade, who had tempted us to their table with cheesy bread and dipping sauce accompanying the pizza, (yeah, we’re very high-end and hard-to-get when we’re on the road) showed us video of them on his camera phone suiting up in tactical gear and gas masks as they prepped for their next shift. And I thought my ill-fitting tuxedo pants I got at a thrift store for my uniform during my catering days were bad. I just had to make sure I had my comfortable shoes and a wine opener on hand versus hoping I didn’t inhale anything toxic in order to make it through a shift.
We shared tales of cheating death and our taste for adventure. The crew was as colorful as their job description. Hector and AJ restocked the rounds as I was introduced to their boss man they affectionately called “The Old Buzzard”. He in turn nicknamed me “Funny Shit” as I made him laugh. He then tried to make me dance. Boys on the road, especially in the West, sure do like and look for any opportunity to two-step. We both soon learned I do not, and really can’t. The Old Buzzard who had suffered his share of challenges as a former bronco rider on the rodeo circuit, including a broken hip that caused him to limp, soon gave up on me declaring after a turn on the dance floor, “You keep leading. You don’t know how to follow!” Such is the curse, or benefit, depending on your dance partner, of being an independent woman. We returned to our stools and swapped stories of adrenaline rushing activities we enjoyed. I told him how I had jumped out of an airplane, he told me to top that I needed to ride a bull.
He then took Jenn for a spin and got her to two-stepping after she had wrapped up a freestyle session blowing it out with Cade in a dance-off below the pulsating disco lights.
Tired from the day’s long drive we took our bows for the night and trekked back to our hotel, the Best Western Butch Cassidy Inn, where we had comfortable beds waiting and a complimentary breakfast the next day before hitting the road, well rested and refreshed for the journey ahead.
Along with the adventures we’ve embraced on the road, one of the mottos I live by is to “taste life” and there is no better time to do that than when meal time rolls around. Pizza is a pretty perfect food item. Growing up on the East coast I tend to prefer the flat crust New York style pie whereas Jenn, a Chicago gal, goes for the deep dish. But our explorations of the West together have increased our exposure to the cuisine of BBQ. On a trip I once took to Texas I attended the BBQ Cook-Off at Rodeo Austin. My initial goal was to kiss a cowboy, which I accomplished, (just a little cheek action) but I then topped that by kissing a clown. Those actions were soon overshadowed by the Cook-Off and the assortment of barbecue available including dry rubbed cuts of beef, smoked sausage rolls wrapped in tortillas, and BBQ brisket Frito pie. For a girl who grew up in New England with grilled chicken brushed with barbecue sauce from a bottle counting as BBQ I soon tasted what I had been missing out on and it created an appetite for more.
In California Jenn and I took off for a day in Pioneertown. The town originated as an Old West set and even includes a mock gunfight by the local re-enactment performers. After taking in the gunslingers (Pew! Pew!) we popped into Pappy & Harriet’s Pioneertown Palace to get some grub. On the way in we were greeted by the BBQ smokers out back and a cast of characters inside- a mix of locals, tourists, cowboys and bikers- who were even more entertaining than the shoot-out show on the street. A jukebox fills the air when a band’s not on stage, pool tables are available for a game to pass the time, although we didn’t play this time around, and drinks come served in mason jars. The friendly staff makes you feel at home as you indulge in an assortment of Tex-Mex tacos loaded with thinly sliced tri-tip, baby back ribs smothered in tangy sweet BBQ sauce, savory homemade chili poured over pinto beans and mesquite grilled chicken capturing the smoky spicy flavors of the Southwest.
Now if you want the true taste of mesquite then you have to go there, so we did. Mesquite, Nevada was a pit stop where we found a pig roast fresh off the spit. Jenn sticks with chicken and I’m partial to a slab of ribs slathered in sauce but at The Smoke Shack I opted for the pulled pork. The pig on the table might be enough to make most cringe, and I apologize to my PETA peeps and those of the vegetarian persuasion, but even Charlotte would have climbed down from her spider web and chowed on Wilbur too, if she knew he tasted this good. The Shack is focused on the food. You order up at the counter, grab a seat in the dining area to enjoy your BBQ which is simply served in a basket. After lunch if you’re feeling lucky head on in to the attached casino.
In a sea of strip malls in Phoenix, Arizona we discovered Bobby Q, offering up both tasty BBQ and an adjoining nightclub, the Q Lounge. After consuming some super creamy mac n’ cheese, pecan coleslaw, roasted corn or ranch beans among the side choices you can select to accompany one of their great big barbecue platters you can shake it all off as you dance next door. You’ll need to once the sugar rush hits from the fresh warm complimentary donut they serve you to complete this mega meal. And if dancing’s not your thing you can play some beer pong or get bottle service in their VIP section and be a voyeur as the smoke machine and laser lights create a pseudo-Vegas styled atmosphere as the patrons hit the floor. We even made some fun new friends before finally succumbing to the food coma and calling it a night.
Other BBQ breaks we’ve enjoyed include The Smoking Apple, an unexpected Utah treat in Lindon, the Toll Road Restaurant in Death Valley where I got a rack of ribs and afterwards Jenn racked up the points playing me in pool at the Badwater Saloon next door and in case you think that BBQ can’t be classy well the Wild West Cowboy Steakhouse in Buckeye, Az serves up barbecue along with suggesting that you keep up the art of meal-time conversation thanks to their guide posted at each table.
This is just the beginning of what I sense to be a long-term love affair with true barbecue and there are so many regions yet to travel to and try. Bring it on and any suggestions for some future finger licking good places we should go to. Mmmmmmmmm!