road trip USA

mars and venus

Zion, Angels, Aztec, Stocks and Shivers, Strips and Strippers

Along with the fact that some of Colourful Colorado's red landscapes look like views of the Red Planet, over the past 8 weeks Mr Tripper has been pondering on the age-old question of what separates man - not from the beasts, but from the fairer sex - assisted of course by some interesting C&W lyrics.

I can hear you now talkin' to your friends, sayin' yes girls, he's come a long way
From Draggin' his knuckles and carryin' a club, and buildin' a fire in the cave.
When you see a priceless friend's painting, I see a drunk naked girl.
When you think that riding a wild bull sounds crazy, and I'd like to give it a whirl.
Oh my eyebrows ain't plucked, there's a gun in my trunk:
Oh thank God, I'm still a guy.

My exposure to the predominantly masculine Country & Western world over the past 8 weeks doesn't reinforce any old-fashioned male prejudices, I hasten to add, before an indignant email floods in from ladies with new-fangled ideas of equality.

Rodeo, Rodeo, Wherefore Art Thou, Rodeo?

Despite searching for a rodeo and/or demolition derby all the way across the USA, the opportunity to ride a wild bull has not yet arisen, but Mr T had been considering these issues whilst defeating Cold Shivers Point, riding the Skyline catapult at Royal Gorge, and lining up briefly for the skydive - before conceding that Mrs T might raise fundamental objections to the already advanced plans for Trip Mk II if he demonstated too clearly the emergence of his adventure gene in her absence.

This line of thought was reinforced by a convivial discussion over breakfast with fellow guests Ray and Rachel at the Desert Thistle Inn, Rockville. This is the ideal base to see Zion National Park in Utah, which some claim to be America's best National Park. Charming hosts Maureen and Warner had mentioned that the trail to Angel's Landing has some scarily exposed high paths with vertical drops on both sides and only a hand chain for security. Mr Tripper was privately slightly sceptical about this, having casually walked the fallen tree bridge in Yosemite (see California photos) and successfully survived Cold Shivers Point in Colorado's National Monument (see Colorado piks) whilst others around him buckled at the knees halfway to the Shiver Stand.


The Angels Landing trail - goes to the top!

ANGELS LANDING

It was at this point that Maureen (a native of Paisley Scotland) dropped into the conversation that a wedding party had stayed with them: the Uncle of the Bride who had been staying at The Desert Thistle had fallen to his death from this trail. The funeral was held on the Friday, and the Wedding on the Saturday...

I subsequently asked the Park Ranger how many hikers they had lost thus, and she said somewhat airily that it is only 9 in living memory, and they lose more to heart attacks and car smashes.

Unfortunately this is a 4-5 hour hike, and lack of proper kit and shortage of time meant I retired defeated before I had started(!)

What has this to do with the point in question? Simply that Ray and Mr Tripper would still have attempted the Angel Trail, whilst their respective women folk were aghast at the very notion. Mr T's theory is that men evolved over thousands of years to go hunting and go to war with other tribes. Neither activity is well served by staying back in the cave, and presumably those genes were thinned out during hard times as the women selected them out: by clustering around Neolithic Beckham Man on his return from hunting, whilst cold-shouldering quiche-eating-caveman. Women on the other hand evolved to tend the fire, raise the infants and do the washing up, and those ladies with more wayward and adventurous tendencies were whittled out of the gene pool when their offspring were carried off by coyotes in the absence of mothers who had gone hang-gliding. So this very small example supports the Tripper Country and Western Theorem of Male/Female evolution. At least, it did for a while... More on this sophisticated line of sociological analysis later.

Vegas - Strip or Stripping?

Earlier in the week, the Tripper party had survived Las Vegas. Treasure Island is a large casino/hotel on the "newer" strip, where each of the major casinos has an external theme which distinguishes it from the otherwise seemingly identical giant casinos inside. We had seen the TI show several years earlier, and very jolly it was too: a large lagoon out front of the casino was the scene of a pirate ship battle against a British frigate, resulting in much spectacular gunfire and pyrotechnics, followed by the unexpected sinking of the frigate with the captain standing bravely on his deck and sliding below the waves still saluting his flag - much to the delight of the American audience. Even more unexpectedly, the ship reappears some minutes later, with the captain still saluting and apparently not having moved from the spot (heroic British sailors can hold their breath for incredible periods).

The bad news is that the show has been redesigned and "modernised", and now consists of several scantily clad "Sirens" mincing and gyrating their way through some excruciating routines which are the apotheosis of bad taste. The only good news was that the fireworks at the end of the show flew straight past our 20th floor window.

The rest of the evening was spent at the Fremont St Experience (on the older "strip") where the hourly light and music show along the street canopy is spectacular, enthralling, and very well received all along the pedestrianised street. From the Tripper Party's perspective, the use of a Queen video, concluding with the joint display of Union Flag and Stars and Stripes was a fitting tribute to our 2 nations' Special Relationship.

Also a fitting send-off to Clare and Tripper Nipper II, who was required once more to defend our homes from forest fires, air crashes and wandering US Presidents trying to cement their legacy.

Aztec Ruins, Stocks and Scares

Highlight of our sojourn in the fascinating small New Mexican town of Aztec (sorry, "City") was our evening visit to the Aztec Stock Car Stadium.

Doors open at 4pm, races start at 7pm, so we rocked up at 6-30pm, hoping we wouldn't be shut out by a capacity crowd.


Spot the real Aztec Ruin...

We watched somewhat bewildered as loads of cars hurtling around in seemingly random fashion for perhaps an hour, with Mr T trying without success to see some subtle form of qualifying going on. (Subsequently we discovered that they were simply driving the very slippery track in, to get the water and loose surface bonded.) The national anthem was something of a feature, sung unaccompanied by (apparently) a mechanic, who adhered to the time-honoured tradition of adding his own exotic cascade of gracenotes to what is otherwise quite a decent tune. My admiration for Americans' lack of cynicism was cemented when the microphone failed with 2 lines to go, and after a brief silence, the crowd started to fill in the gaps.

This was just fascinating: a really homely small town event with a real community feel. Maybe 7-800 attending, all ages from 4 to 94 enjoying burgers and pop, and the announcer telling us during breaks between races (admittedly there were quite a few of those) about the barbeque coming up in his garden. Every time a car spins or crashes out, there's a yellow flag whilst the victim is bump started back into the race, or the wreckage is cleared, so some of these races go on - and on - and on.

Mr T's Theorem of Evolution looks in danger as the sole female driver finishes 2nd in her heat, and then drives breathtakingly well in the 30 lap final to finish 3rd out of 23 (and she would have made 2nd if she hadn't been baulked somewhat sneakily on the final bend). So: a female who deserved 2nd place, behind a man in 1st... QED.

A local hero (who looks about 15) wins one main event, with the next major event won by a chap who was seriously older than Mr T, with parents (yes, really, his parents) and family cheering him on from the bench in front of us. Prizes to the winning ticket holders? A baseball cap, and a free pizza from the local joint. Mrs T was getting somewhat weary, whilst Mr T was just getting started, so we compromised and left at 11-15pm with 3 huge races still to go. Clearly it was going well beyond midnight, and the 4 year old next to me was asleep in a blanket on his Dad's shoulder.

Time - To Call Time?

One of the things we've noticed about American sporting events (whether it be the SuperBowl or just an ordinary American football game, our night at the baseball, or the stockcar evening) is that the event a) goes on seemingly for ever, or b) gives great value and cements community and family togetherness through the time it occupies. [Please allocate one statement to the male of the species, and one to the female. QED.]

As the Tripper party nears the end of its trip, there arises the question of what might have been: what we would like to do with (yet) more time. Bivouac in the wilderness, hike across Death Valley: oh, and as the USA East-to-West Road Trip has been such a success, how about doing East-to-West Coasts in Africa? You've got to be joking is the reply. QED.

The final word on this subject has to be Country and Western. Here is a gem about a man's reaction to hearing his lady storming out of the house, and it is the C & W contribution to the "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" school of philosophy.

Heard the door slam and I couldn't tell was it just the wind?
Or was she mad again - oh man, she's gettin in her car.
I hollered, Baby is there something wrong?
Thought I heard her say something sounding like - I'm gone...
But these days gone can mean so many things.

Chorus: There's gone for good and there's good and gone:
And there's gone with the long before it.
I wish she'd been just a little more clear...
Well there's gone for the day and gone for the night,
And gone for the rest of your dog-on life.
Is it whiskey night or just a couple of beers?
I mean what kind of gone are we talkin' 'bout here?

My thanks to my new musical heroes, Kenny Chesney, Chris Cagle, and Brad Paisley

Oh, sorry: the final FINAL word - Rachel and Ray mentioned at breakfast the following morning that they had BOTH ascended the Angel's Landing Trail. Well done Ray: but what of Rachel? She completed the ascent even though she had to sit and recover periodically after the scariest bits, and took on this challenge after hearing about the death of Uncle of the Bride. Just exceptional... Should she join the marines? And does this mean that Mr T's Cave Theory of Evolution needs more work?

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