I left St. George, Utah with little fanfare and no breakfast
to charge into Indian Country, i.e., Navajoland. My first waypoint was Hurricane, Utah. It has changed significantly since I was last
there (circa 1997). The heretofore
two-lane main street is now a five-lane boulevard and the once antiquated
storefronts are new and shiny. The town
has expanded to the west with nationally recognized retailers, mostly fast food
outlets. Hurricane continues to exist as a jump off point for the National Park
recreation offers in the area; Zion, Bryce, Lake Powell, et al. I am glad to see it is thriving.
From Hurricane, I proceeded along state highways 59 and 389
into Arizona and the little hamlet of Fredonia, Arizona. I am convinced that Fredonia survives only to
sell alcohol to persons of thirst preparing to travel into the National Park
rich, but somewhat dry, Utah. I counted one gas station and three liquor stores
among the four businesses in the town.
From Fredonia, the road turns north where in a matter of yards, you
enter Kanab, Utah where you can buy the non-alcoholic provisions for your
expedition. From Kanab, I had two choices to reach the day’s destination,
Cortez, Colorado.
This gets confusing if you are not familiar with the area or
if you do not have a map in your hand. Both options are numbered US-89. I am
not going to try to explain it verbally.
Let it suffice to say I took the leg that skirts the southern edge of
the Escalante-staircase National Monument and it is spectacular. For my money… well actually, it is fee free
on US-89, it is the most impressive non-fee drive I have encountered. Someday, it will be a destination; stay
tuned.
This route eventually meanders to Page, Arizona; launching
point for Lake Powell. The water level
in the lake is depressingly low. Too
bad, there are few locales in the world as stunning as Lake Powell from water
level. I got lost in Page. It’s a lot easier than you think. But it is a small town and in driving about
looking for the road out, I wandered into an old part of town known as the
little hotel district. It’s actually one
street lined with utilitarian rental complexes that look as if they were built
for workers during the construction of Glen Canyon Dam. Now they seem to operate as hostels for
thrifty world travelers. What do you
think, Tumbleweed?
Finding my way out of Page (it was even odds) I took AZ-98
to the southeast to meet up with US-160 running northeast along the southern
extreme of Monument Valley and Kayenta, Arizona. Again, these are scarcely traveled highways
that offer incomparable visuals. I never
tire of the experience.
Eventually the route takes you into more familiar geology
and through some really ugly desert as you pass four corners (if you are
unfamiliar with this term, look it up) and into Colorado. Cortez is the first city you encounter; it’s
life blood is farming and tourist services for nearby Mesa Verde National Park. I found the lone surviving Mexican restaurant
and enjoyed a cheese enchilada and tamale.
While there were quainter motels, I chose a Travel Lodge: The photo below explains it all.
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| San Juan Mountains from Cortez |
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| Cortez is a city by definition |
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