Keeping up with Grandpa

Several months prior to our trip west, I mentioned to my dad that I hoped to do a little hiking in Southern Utah. I asked him if he would like to make a detour on a weekend to St. George and fit in a little adventure. In classic dad style, that I am so lucky to benefit from time to time, he called me back just minutes later with a hotel reserved and ideas for a possible itinerary. How lucky I was to spend a few days with my dad, exploring Southern Utah. 

My dad knows the red rock country better than anyone I know and he still spends free weekends roaming the trails, remote vistas, panels of petroglyphs and slot canyons. So when he climbed behind the wheel on the morning of the July 24th weekend, we knew we were in for a treat. Our first stop was Goblin Valley. As soon as we pulled up to a ledge over looking a barren land of odd knobby formations, the kids jumped out of the car and were on their way to meet this peculiar sandstone community. They climbed over, darted between, perched on top of, and crawled around the "goblins". Finally they searched for the shade that each individual knob offered, sank to the ground and gulped down their water bottles. I had always wanted to visit Goblin Valley and it was especially exciting to experience it from a child's perspective.

Not far from Goblin Valley is Little Wild Horse Canyon, which my nephew Tanner recommended. Of course my dad knew where it was, which section of the loop trail was worth exploring and how far in to hike in order to reach the best slot canyons. We hadn't ventured far before the kids and I realized that this hike was a favorite. The canyon walls rose higher and higher and grew closer and closer together. Soon we were shimmying through a thin crack that nature had carved millenniums before. Our backpacks rubbed the walls and tiny grains of sand fell to the desert floor. Each time I have hiked a slot canyon, I am in awe at its beauty, but each time I am also slightly disappointed that the crevice isn't as dramatically narrow as the slot canyons in the photographs hanging in Utah's art galleries. This hike met all my expectations. Thanks Tanner!

 

That night we arrived in Capitol Reef National Park. We ate dinner on the back patio of a local cafe, on picnic tables, under the stars, listening to cowboy music. There was something so rustic and westernly quaint about this spot, there couldn't have been a more perfect end to our day.

The next morning we split up. My dad dropped off Emilie, Jonathan, Annelise, Ezra and I at the top of the Grand Wash trail and he parked the car at the bottom and started hiking up the trail 

with Sophia. We hiked for five miles in the shadows of towering red cliffs. Throughout my parent's family photo albums are images of my siblings and me tucked in various sandstone holes carved throughout Southern Utah. To me, a collection of family albums isn't complete without at least a few pages of children peeking out of red rock pockets. Today I got those pages for my albums. All along the wash we marveled at the force of nature and its ability to recreate beauty with the simplicity of wind and water. The kids scampered up the walls to curl up in yet another pocket carved into the sandstone towers above. 

Afterward we treated ourselves to homemade pie and ice cream at the historic Gifford homestead that is nestled in the orchard that was planted by hopeful pioneers. Capitol Reef was the last area in the United States to be mapped. We relished in its rural beauty.

That night we sought out a funky little parade that we heard about from some new friends that we ran into several times in the area. By the time we left Capitol Reef, we were on a first name basis with Roger and Hank. (They drove their limited edition convertible 60's porshe in the parade donning their cowboy get up. They informed us that we could join the parade as well. The kids were all game for it but my dad and I were more hesitant.)

 

We rose early the next morning and made our way to Escalante Grand Staircase National Monument. For years I had tried to fit a hike to Lower Calf Creek Falls into one of my journeys South but had never been successful. Today I finally saw the falls and I wasn't disappointed! We arrived at the trail head at 8:00 am, making every effort to avoid the Southern Utah summer heat. We packed our backpacks with water bottles, apples and a bag of Jolly Ranchers and were on our way. This hike meanders along the desert floor, next to a little brook which creates a small emerald jungle, contrasting the red cliff walls on each side of the trail. Along the way we passed petroglyphs and an ancient Indian cliff dwelling. After two and a half miles, we could hear roaring water tumbling for hundreds of feet into a pool lapping against the sandstone cliffs. We tucked our toes into the cool moist sand and dared each other to jump into the water that felt icy in the hot summer sun. After a small picnic we slipped Ezra back into his pack and headed back between the thick jungle and the desert walls. With two previous days of hiking, Sophia had had her fill. For most of the five miles, through the sand, my dad carried her on his shoulders! I will remember this hike for both its beauty and adventure but also for my dad's support, great attitude, athleticism, love of grandchildren, patience and optimism!

  

After shakes in Escalante we continued through breathtaking scenery and arrived at my parents' St. George house for the next phase of our vacation. Before flying home the next day, my dad swam with the grandchildren, went to church with Lisa, who arrived the night before with her six children, and I and then fixed a Sunday dinner for all eleven grandchildren and his parents, who visited on Sunday afternoon.     

Hiking the North

The first year we returned to Utah from Boston for the summer, I realized that we had the best of both worlds. On the East Coast we could spend each moment of free time exploring a different historical site or beautiful beach. But we also have easy access to the West where we can climb the red rocks, hike in the Uintahs and spend unlimited, distraction free time with our families. During our time away from family, we have learned to play hard

 in both places, since we never know which place we call "home" is temporary. This past summer was no exception. The first four weeks of our trip were spent hiking and swimming, almost every single day. We enjoyed each hike, but several were true highlights.  

As soon as we had our bags unpacked, we headed to Big Cottonwood Canyon. I was taken back 15 years to the summer I was a Brighton Counselor. After spending ten weeks with Beehive campers, I knew this canyon well. 

 

  

I choose Lake Mary as an introductory hike for the kids. Somewhat to my surprise, they loved every moment of it. We found a snow bank to jump in, wild flowers to make into bouquets, the perfect rock for a picnic, a waterfall to watch tumble over the side of a cliff and finally a little mountain lake to throw rocks into.

Our next hike was to Lake Secret in Alta with our dear friends, the Vincents. The kids scampered ahead of MC and I as we tagged behind with Sophia. We picnicked at the base of the mountain, climbed over boulders, spotted rock climbers, marveled at the spectacular wild flowers that we struggled to keep the girls little fingers from picking and thus breaking the National Wilderness Area Rules, collected sand to return to Annie Vincent's Science teacher and, once again, finally reached the mountain lake to toss rocks into.

 

A few days later I picked MC and Celeste Buchanan up at 5:30 am for a sunrise hike to Lake Blanche, one of my favorite spots near Salt Lake. On this hike we didn't collect sand, pick bouquets or jump in snow banks. This trek was all about girl talk, gorgeous scenery, and a great, fast paced workout. Our early morning adventure was well worth the effort.

Our last Northern Utah hike was to Timpanogos Cave in American Fork Canyon. I think this trail gets steeper each time I hike it! However, the spectacular mountain views and valley below kept us going. At the top of the mountain we entered the cave for a one hour tour. Jonathan and Emilie answered the ranger's inquiries correctly, including defining and locating stalactites and stalagmites, and Annelise didn't hesitate to ask various questions that ran through her six year old mind. Besides Sophia's encounter with the cave floor and Ezra's fascination with the cave mud, this hike was another success. 

We looked forward to more adventures during the next phase of our vacation through Southern Utah.           

City Life

Yesterday we sat with the concierge for  thirty minutes, plotting out each move we intended to make for the following two days. Our remaining time was limited and we wanted to fill it with adventure. Leaving the hotel, we jumped in a water taxi, and within minutes were exploring Wat Arun. For us, the highlight was climbing to the top of the temple's iconic stupa for an amazing view of the city, with the golden domes of the Grand Palace sparkling in the sun and the river snaking between modern buildings below. Orange clad monks chanted in a side classroom and statues of Buddha stoically lined the plaster walls of the anteroom. A tuk-tuk sputtered outside the main gates, so we negotiated a price for a ride to Chinatown and hopped in. This Chinatown was similar to San Francisco's or even Boston's, except for that it was about ten times more intense. We wandered down narrow corridors with market goods tumbling out of small openings in the walls, that functioned as shops. On the sidewalks, stands with fried fish heads and jerkied pig faces were visited by hoards of chattering shoppers. After we picked up a few Hello Kitty items, we jumped in the next cab for a ride to the Jim Thompson House, an elegant teak home, raised in the air by chunky stilts, and open for tours. Jim Thompson was an American who moved to Bangkok in the late forties. He introduced the world to Thai silk, creating his own silk dynasty and trading his fabrics with western fashion designers. I especially enjoyed touring his home, since he lived in the far east at the same time that my grandparents and mother lived in Burma. According to the tour guides, Jim Thompson was hailed as a hero, a pioneer and explorer of sorts. It put my grandparent's spirit of adventure, moving their three young children to the exotic east, into perspective. Our last stop of the evening was the Suam Lum Night Bazaar, a huge market place. We spent hours snaking up and down the aisles of silks, carved statues, and jewelry. My favorite purchases of the evening were two table clothes for our round dinner table, a turquoise necklace and a Burmese lacquer box. After we had worn ourselves out, we headed to a local cafe.  I spotted the coconut soup, which I now crave, and ordered pineapple fried rice and a lime smoothie to go with it. The patio overlooking the bazaar proved to be a great spot for people watching. Muslims with black burquas, Thais carrying bags of souvenirs to sell, expats with young children in tow and the occasional western tourist with a lost look on his face wandered by. We returned to the Marriott after midnight, content with our successful day.

Today we left the hotel at 7:00 in a small mini bus with a German family and a Lebanese father and his two daughters, making our way to a floating market. We stopped at a coconut sugar farm for a quick tour and then were dropped off at pier, where long boats hummed, waiting for foreigners to fill their seats. Speeding through a canal system that took us past the back porches of wooden homes and signs indicating the presence of cobras, we enjoyed the rural Thai lifestyle zipping past. Once at the market we paid 400 baht for a small wooden boat ride through the jammed water way, which was once the main trading location for the area farmers. The bronzed faced man standing on the end our boat with a long paddle, pushed us through the community of vessels over laden with foreign fruits, many resembling miniature weapons. Boats held grills and skillets with fish balls and sausages sizzling in the morning sun. Other boats were stacked precariously with straw hats. We purchased a banana leaf full of coconut pancakes and a small bag of fried bananas. Each item was passed to us from a boat in a basket attached to a long bamboo pole after our few coins had been passed the same way to the seller. Returning to our hotel, we napped and then hopped on the sky tram and raced across the city to one last night market. We dined  at the Mango Tree and a did little more shopping, purchasing cuff links for Steve and a necklace for me, and then returned to the Marriott. Our flight would leave the next morning and although we loved each moment in Thailand and Cambodia, we could not wait to have Emilie, Jonathan, Annelise, Sophia and Ezra in our arms again! 

New Tidbits learned

1. The long ears on Thai Buddhas represent long life. Those, people fortunate to have especially long earlobes can anticipate longevity as well.

2. Thais living outside of Bangkok catch rain water in cisterns to drink because it is cleaner than the water plumbed into their houses.

3. It is illegal to speak out against the royal family. Those publicly doing so are arrested.

4. Each Buddhist family, comprising 95% of the population, has a spirit house on their property. Each morning they place water, food, a stick and leaves in the small structure to prevent the inhabiting spirit from becoming angry and bringing chaos to the family. 

The Andaman

Our last two days in Phuket were spent on the Andaman Sea. Our first adventure was a day of sea kayaking. We joined a group of twenty tourists from around the globe and headed out to the craggy islands jutting up from the sea, that make this area spectacular. Yesterday the tide was extra high, so we had some time to waste until the water lowered and we could slip into the suddenly exposed caves. We stopped at a white sand beach for an hour of swimming and resting under the palm trees. We hadn't come for relaxation, so we were anxious to be on our way. Finally we reached our first cave. Steve and I ambled onto a large red inflatable kayak, with a Thai guide in the back, hired to paddle. He headed to the sliver of space at the bottom of a towering cliff, covered in jungle with vines hanging off the black rocks. Cookie, our guide, instructed us to lie down and he thrust our kayak into the small space that had only moments before been revealed as the tide descended. Suddenly our faces were only inches away from scrapping the roof of the cave. We drifted further into the darkness as beads of water dripped onto our faces. The only light was our small lantern that each kayak was issued. Several times, it was evident that we would not be able to go further, so the guide let air out of our kayak, imploding the rubber around our bodies, adding to the sense of claustrophobia that loomed. At one point the entire group came to a stop, with kayaks behind us and several in front of us. It was explained that the water level was still too high and that we would have to wait until it lowered so that we could continue to scoot through the remaining tunnel. Suddenly hazy beams of light streaked across the water, with an opening in the rock ahead. We arrived into an open air grotto, with cliffs towering above, and a patch of blue sky over head. Mangrove trees clustered together in the middle, with their roots exposed like stilts. After peacefully drifting around this secluded garden, we returned to the cave. This time the water had lowered and we could sit up in our boat. We were in awe at the power of gravity and how quickly the water descended. A British woman pointed out that that was true, but think of how quickly it could rise as well. That was an unsettling thought, after our experience fighting off claustrophobia only thirty minutes before. We were served the best ginger soup for lunch, along with the freshest pineapple and a smorgasbord of stir-frys. We stopped at the James Bond Island next, apparently the location for one of the first movies, where we paddled around for about an hour. Our last cave took us to another grotto. This time there were overly friendly monkeys. One little guy jumped on a neighboring kayak and sat at the tip, observing the crew for several moments. It then grabbed the kayak's flashlight and leaped off, jumping to a close rock ledge. It attempted to peel the yellow light like a banana, and finally to no avail, tossed it back in the water. Baby monkeys swung from the vines and clambered after their mothers, jumping from the trees to the rocks. We all agreed that sea kayaking was a unique way to experience the Andaman and well worth a trade for one of our pool side days of leisure.

The next morning came quickly, with a driver picking us up at our hotel just after seven. This time we booked our snorkeling excursion with a local travel agency, rather than the Marriott concierge. When we arrived at the dock, it was quite evident that no luxury hotel would send its guests to this small dock, hidden between rows of massive Thai fishing boats, which evidently still had the remains of their catch aboard, scenting the warm morning air. Many other budget minded tourists waited nearby. We decided that it was just as fun to experience a more authentic travel experience, despite packaged chicken sandwiches for lunch  and an engine that spewed black smoke each time the crew struggled to start it.

After boarding our private speedboat we raced across the deep aqua sea to our first island, which was a small rock jutting skyward, completely deserted except for a small wooden gazebo on the back side. Before jumping in, the guide tossed in a piece of sandwich bread. In a split second, hundreds of brightly colored fish were bouncing over each other for a nibble. We knew this would be a great day to see fish. We slipped on our flippers and tugged on our face masks and leaped into the cool water. Fish surrounded us, accepting us as their own as we swam in their schools. After thirty minutes of watching the small creatures dart about us, and attempting to catch them over and over but with no success, we climbed back on the boat and sped to our next island. This one was lined with bright beach chairs and stripped umbrellas, a thatched roof bar served drinks and island dwelling Thai's mulled around their small commercial establishment. As soon as we set our bags next to a chair, a Thai girl popped out and informed us that the chair would be three dollars to rent. We looked around, and with no other options handed over a 100 bhat bill. Soon the boat crew brought us watermelon slices and pineapple and we switched off between slipping into the small cove surrounding the white sand that our toes were dug into and diving into our books that we couldn't resist bringing. For the next hour my thoughts switched between life in the American Southwest desert, the setting for the book The Glass Castle, and the marine life and cool water that engulfed me each time I made my way to the sea to cool off and greet the local fish. The whistle blew too soon and we loaded onto the boat and were off to our last island. Our guide pointed to a young Thai perched on the back of our boat and informed us that he was  "Mr. Shark." This last island was home to a family of seven sharks and Mr. Shark would gladly help us find them, we were told. I stayed in the safe zone with schools of benign stripped fish while Jenny and Jonny swam off with Mr. Shark. Years ago I would have joined him and hopefully years in the future, soon after Ezra is eighteen, I will track down Mr. Shark for a second chance, but right now I am in the risk aversion phase of my life. Jonny and Jenny returned with reports of a huge shark, "the size of Jenny." They said they felt completely safe and Mr. Shark claimed that only the white ones bite. However, today I was happy with the kindly fish that I swam with. 

Soon we cruised across the Andaman, back through the fishing boats and to the dock. Our driver was waiting for us and zipped us to the Marriott. After throwing our belongings into our suitcases for our trip back to Bangkok, we headed to the pools and massage tables for a few more hours of relaxation. We said our thank yous and good-byes to Jonny and Jenny, hopped in a cab and left for Phuket's airport. We realized that our stay at Phuket's Marriott was perhaps a once in a life time moment and we were sad to leave. 

R & R

We have now entered the portion of our vacation that is designated for rest and relaxation. Steve continues to remind me of this as I attempt to book one more excursion. In fact, he insisted that yesterday's one hour yoga class be the activity for the day. I do, however, admit that just as it would have been a waste of our trip to Cambodia not to visit the temples of Angkor, it would be a waste of our experience in Phuket not to sink right into a state of complete relaxation. Our hotel for the next few days is the Marriott Village, compliments of Jonny and Jenny and their hard work for Marriott. Thank you, thank you! The village is attached to the luxurious JW Marriott, so we share the same amenities of the Marriott's pinnacle of opulence. Swimming pools with elephants sprouting streams from their trunks are tucked between lush gardens and Asian architecture. Jumbo, a baby elephant roams the grounds with his master, a wrinkled Thai man. Jumbo stopped by for photos, playtime and bananas that he snatched from our hands. Yesterday Steve and I awoke early and headed to the gym. After the treadmills, we met the yogi out on the veranda for an hour of stretches and meditation. It was our first introduction to yoga and I think that it took as much adjustment trying to touch our toes and twist our body as it did to seeing Steve in yoga's traditional meditative pose, with legs crossed, thumb and middle finger touching and eyes closed. What a good sport Steve was! We then swam in the pools, ate at the restaurants dotting the grounds and spent the rest of the day reading on the cushioned lounge chairs over looking the Andaman Sea. I finished The Ladies Auxiliary, a book about a close knit Jewish community and their issues surrounding acceptance and individuality, and then I began The Glass Castle, a memoir of a child growing up in a dysfunctional family and coming to terms with her parents choice to be homeless while she became a successful journalist. I am impressed with Steve's self control. He cracked open his two inch thick manual for the Series 7, armed with highlighter in hand. In the evening we wandered to the thatched roofed platforms and paid $10 for an hour long massage. A toothless woman rubbed, pounded and bent my body, giving me by far the best massage I have ever had. 

Today was a repeat of yesterday except for a three hour bike ride through a near by village. We picked up our bikes, were handed a map, cold water bottles and a cell phone and off we went, circumferencing, a lake with what Jonny and I swore were crocodiles, riding through rubber tree plantations, around rice paddies, past a monastery and to a Buddhist temple. We stopped at the temple and wandered around the grounds. Monks ducked in and out of near by buildings, and their bright orange robes, along with equally orange towels flapped on nearby clothes lines. Gongs hung from towers and Buddha statues were tucked into dark enclaves. This temple was used during the 2004 Tsunami as a morgue, holding the bodies of villagers until they were claimed. A monk, who must have had a contradictory past, evidenced by his tattoos rising above his robes and a huge hole gaping in this right earlobe, told us that the temple was locked. With regret, we jumped on our bikes, peddled past a spectacular sunset over the sea, and raced back to the hotel before we were riding in moonlight. We stopped at the massage shack for one more hour of self indulgence, enjoyed a Thai dinner with the best coconut soup imaginable and after a few games of Boggle, we all climbed into bed, looking forward to another day. 

New tidbits learned

1. The 2004 tsunami had the power of 23,000 Hiroshima atomic bombs and traveled 300 miles an hour.

2. The tsunami was the result of the largest earthquake in 40 years and devastated 11 countries, some 3,000 miles away. 

3. Before a tsunami hits shore, it pulls the water out, leaving the ocean floor bare, with fish and boats stranded. It remains this way for five minutes before a powerful wave crashes to shore. Unfortunately in 2004, people ran out to the never before exposed sand and soon became victims of the on-coming wave.

4. Buddhist men are considered "unfinished" if they do not become a monk for a period of time. Therefore, many of the monks enter a monastery but move back to their normal lives after only days or weeks. 

5. The monks wear orange representing wisdom. It also represents an autumn leaf falling off a tree, signifying letting go rather than clinging on.

6. Monks are only allowed 8 items: a begging bowl, a belt, a razor, a staff, a toothpick and their three portions of their robe.

The Floating Village

This morning, Jonny and Jenny met us at our hotel. Once again we breakfasted on chocolate croissants, omelets, and fresh tropical fruits. We then jumped in Lies car and headed to the floating village of Chong Kneas. For an absolutely authentic cultural experience, we floated down a small river on which an entire village resides, living on small boats. We hopped on a small wooden boat with folding teak chairs and a Cambodian captain. He chugged us past the village school, with tiny Cambodians in blue and white uniforms, with no shoes. On top of the drifting school was the playground, where children were being supervised playing ball. A family drifted by who was moving their entire house to a new location up stream. Their bright blue wooden house boat was pulling a floating garden, with herbs and many different unidentified plants. Attached to the garden was a small raft filled with wooden tools and attached to that was a simple wooden boat. Through the windows on the house boats, we spotted Cambodian children resting in hammocks. We passed another home bobbing in the river with a woman washing out her pots and pans in the river. I asked our guide if they cook with the water as well. They do. The river also serves as their swimming and plumbing water. We made our way out to the Tonle Sap Lake, the largest lake in Asia. Our boat stopped and the captain asked us if we would like to jump in and swim. We all declined. We agreed that this one last outing was perhaps our favorite excursion in Cambodia. We headed to the airport with a slight feeling of regret that we didn't have more time to soak in the culture. However, Jonny pointed out that we visited the top four sites in Cambodia in just a day and a half. At the airport Steve and I enjoyed a much needed $10 foot massage and then boarded a propeller plane for Bangkok and then on to Phuket.

New Tidbits Learned:

1. During the six month monsoon season, villagers on the lake embalm and "bury" their dead high in the trees while they wait for dry wood for a proper cremation. 

2. Cambodia lacks a high population of skilled and educated workers because during the Khmer Rouge, these people were targeted and killed, along with artists. 

3. Since 2000, with the end of the civil war, Cambodia's tourism industry has boomed. Huge hotels are being built and the area looks to have a bright future.