Meanwhile, somewhere in Canada...

For whatever it's worth, this is the 100th post.

Where I come from, Hoover sucks

When you drive from Flagstaff, Arizona to Las Vegas, you have to cross the Colorado River at some stage.  One of the best spots to do this is Hoover Dam.

Crossed it.

Imposing, monumental, awe-inspiring; the dam looks like something out of a Superman cartoon.  I kept waiting for Transformers to fight on it.  There's a huge art-deco statue at the entrance, marking the date of dedication.

Swam it.  (Lying)

Seeing it so soon after the Grand Canyon was a bit of a headspin.  Luckily we were heading to Vegas, which was not inspiring at all.

Well it is called a GRAND canyon,

The drive out to the Grand Canyon from Flagstaff was as pretty as it was uneventful.  The plains and pine forests of Arizona were green, and a steady light rain fell.  There was some concern that we would miss 'the good part' of the canyon.  This was not the case.

The Liar tries to get a better view.

The whole journey people had told us the Grand Canyon was one thing which lives up to the hype.  It truly did.  I cannot with words do it justice; it is vast and colourful.

The current club members at some hole.

It was also rather cold.  We went with the intention of doing one of the more challenging hikes from the South Rim, but within twenty minutes of our arrival we watched rain race up the canyon towards us.  Shortly after that the temperature dropped below freezing.  Don't let the Talk's shorts fool you; we all wound up huddled in the canteen, eating a hot lunch.

The Talk touches the void.

That night we hit a few spots in Flagstaff.  The Liar went to bed early, as he had to take care of himself, and we got to know the student bars.  This started with a burger in the Flagstaff Brewing Company.  It turns out there are a lot of good beers made in Arizona, and we did our damn best to try all of them.

Colorado, Utah, Arizona

Our biggest day's drive began a little after 7am in Avon, Colorado and took us as far as Flagstaff, Arizona.  The first part of the drive, through the Rocky Mountains, was again scenic and on a well-constructed road.

Letting off steam in Colorado.

So well constructed that we got the first speeding ticket of the trip.  The patrolman who pulled us over said that the plane overhead had clocked our car at 94mph in a 65 zone.  It's possible that by the time we passed him, we were traveling faster than that.

The sign gives you all the information you need.

We came out of the mountains and into Utah, described poetically by the Talk as "an enema.  A big buttload of nothing."  This wasn't totally fair to Utah, which did have a lot of rocks.

There's a lot of this in Utah

And some canyons.  And some different kinds of rocks.

A lot of these too.

The surprise of the drive came in Arizona, which I had pictured to be a desolate, flat wasteland.  In fact the area was quite mountainous (which makes sense; it's where the Grand Canyon is) and it rained a lot.

Turns out Arizona is not that flat.

We stopped in Flagstaff, where we would spend the next couple of nights, and went out to Beaver Street Brewery for dinner.  Their Red ale, which had won some awards, was very tasty.  I quite enjoyed the Oatmeal stout as well.

Of beavers and creeks

We left the Liar to have a big sleep in the nice hotel room in Avon and drove over to Beaver Creek, where we had been told we could hike some pretty trails and take some stunning photos.  Both proved to be true.

The Talk, and the village of Beaver Creek.

From the village we headed uphill, walking trails when we found them or straight up the ski-runs when we couldn't.

The Hammer running up that hill

What surprised us was how cold it wasn't.  While there was a noticeable difference between being in the sun and the shade, it was quite a warm day made warmer by the exertion of heading up hill.

We were not very high up at this stage

We were even lucky enough to see a bit of wildlife; mostly birds, but a few mammals as well.

Dear oh deer.

And it was worth spending the morning heading up to see the Rockies stretched away to the north.

Oh, those mountains.

The Talk got the skiing itch very badly.  It was all he could talk about for most of the walk down, and the next few days.

The Talk informs me this is some 'sick free-styling.'

The empty ski runs felt strange as we stumbled and slid down them.  It would be curious to see them covered in snow and rich, white people.

Empty chairlifts are eerie.

That night we ate at a hamburger place in Edwards and went to bed early.  In the morning we would drive for at least 10 hours and cross two state borders.

America: So I'm Drivin', Drivin', Drivin'

"That's three times. I'm drivin' riiight." - Lenny Henry. Lenny Henry has no relevance to the rest of this story, its just a quote from a funny sketch on The Secret Policeman's Third Ball that contains the word drivin'. The link of course being that over the four days out of Chicago, we did a lot of driving.

On the way we stopped at the house of two traveller's, on an invitation extended from Oktoberfest. So it was that we rolled into Fort Dodge, Iowa and were immediately set upon with kindness and fresh vegetables. I don't wish to sound flippant (this time), this couple really were the nicest people you'll ever meet. At just the right time, after three weeks on the road, they gave us real beds, a warm and comfortable house and more fantastic food, fresh from their garden, than even four hungry lads could eat.

The next morning we were taken to the fort that gives Fort Dodge its name.

Carved with a chain-saw, by men!

After more food, followed by a quick tour of the town, followed by more food, we set off on another day of straight flat driving, accompanied by many a joke about "Getting the hell out of Dodge." In reality, however, all of us will forever look upon Fort Dodge with enormous affection.

Another night, another motel, followed by a very scenic drive to a rather disappointing Mount Rushmore, and then a very scenic drive down the other side. The actual monument ruined an otherwise very nice site, which the Americans then made worse with a big auditorium and tourist shops. Think stripper's on Uluru, oh, wait... Actually, it wasn't that bad, but it was more permanent. Also, I didn't get any photos, because I packed the camera and wasn't impressed enough to bother getting it out of the car. I'm really, really bad at this tourist thing.

After a very nice descent from Mt Rushmore, we drove through Wyoming, which is flat. Very flat. And empty. Very empty. We were saved from certain death by empty fuel tank by Lusk, and finally arrived, late and weary, but very excited, in Denver Colorado.

The reason we were very excited, not that Denver isn't nice in itself, is that the next day we had tickets to our first ever Collage Football game. The plan was to drive to Boulder, the town supporting the CU campus, purchase Buffalo's shirts, explore a bit, then see the game. This didn't happen, because it turns out that American's have a different concept of "Seeing a game" than Australians. For example, I had never heard the term tail-gating before. We asked the first people we saw on the CU campus where we could by shirts, they directed us to the book store, and then told us to come back and have a beer with them. After buying the shirts, we wondered back and they showed us how sport should be watched, tail-gating style.

Tail-gaters will rock up to a sporting event at about 10:00, in their specially fitted out tail-gating van. In this case it was a repainted ambulance, "Because it already has electricity connected to the back, so you can keep the keg cold and power the TV to watch the game." The rules for tail-gating are simple, its like a pre-game BBQ to which every one in sight is invited. If they walk past, offer them food and a beer, because everyone is there to support the same team so they're all your friends.

The following can not do justice to the tail-gating experience, but they're the best I can manage.

Firstly, they have a real, live Buffalo mascot.
This is Ralphie V, a young female Buffalo. It takes 4 men to control Ralphie V as she runs around the field. They use young female Buffalo because they're small.

They have cheer leaders,

and flag girls,

and a marching band,

and more marching band,

and about 80 players per team.

The tail-gaters, Peter Griffin (no joke, the photographer here) and Tiffany (I'll give you three guesses) took us to the student section of the stadium. We spent the whole game standing on the bleachers yelling and singing the CU fight song.

The rest of our time in Denver was spent watching NFL and meeting local marathon runners and bar staff. We also booked a few nights Avon, in the Rockies, and in Flagstaff, near the Grand Canyon. But those stories will have to wait for another time.

Rocky mountain high...

We headed into the Rocky Mountains via Fort Collins. This was also the day we first ate at International House of Pancakes.  We didn't completely regret it.

So that's why they call them rocky.

The Talk had planned a route for us which would head through Rocky Mountain National Park.  The drive through the Rockies is spectacular, and the roads are very good.  If you ever get the chance, drive here.  Unfortunately as we climbed higher it started to rain.  Then sleet.  Then snow.

When we reached the entry to the national park, a friendly ranger had a look at our car, a listen to our accents and decided it would be best if we turned back the way we had come.  We were disappointed on one hand, because it seemed like a nice drive, but on the other hand we didn't want fall from the Rocky Mountains, hang our heads and cry...

Driving downhill in our first snow-storm.

We reached Avon quite late and checked into our hotel.  The concierge suggested a nearby fancy restaurant which had slashed its prices for the off season.  We had an amazing dinner of bison and fresh vegetables, followed by a house-made spirit (someone remind me what this was called please and I'll add a link) and some local beers, which I've posted about before.

A day in Denver

We had a couple of tips for things we should see and do in Denver, so we took a day to check them out.  We started out by walking downtown.  Downtown Denver is very pleasant, if not exactly 'happening' on a Sunday.

Wait, they have buildings in Colorado?

From there we moseyed to the exhibition center, which had a modern art convention or something.  The Liar paid more attention than I did.  I just liked the huge blue bear, which he said was called "Now I see."

The Hammer vs the bear

Underneath was a tram terminal, so we hopped a trolley south to the uni campus.  On the tram we met a bunch of people who had competed that morning in the Denver marathon (we were beginning to suspect this was becoming a 'watching marathons' tour of America).  They were able to point us towards all the stuff we should see in the area.

Another day, another uni campus

This included Mustard's Last Stand, a 'Chicago-type eatery' with branches all across the USA.  They made very good hotdogs.

The Double Dog, with mustard, onion and sauerkraut.

Afterwards we found a bar down the street which served beer and showed football, thereby earning a tick in every box.  We also learned it's quite difficult to get a cab on a Sunday night in Denver.

Meanwhile, somewhere in America...

Go CU!

Around the corner from our hostel in Denver was a nice little hipster cafe, the name of which I have completely forgotten.  Nevertheless, we ate there every morning we were in Denver.

Not the biggest table I've ever used.

After breakfast the Talk, the Skeptic and I made the journey to Boulder.  We had tickets to the football; the Colorado University Buffaloes were playing the Baylor Bears. The CU campus is set in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains, and it was a stunning day; the Skeptic and I both left a little sun-burned, much to our surprise.

Scenic CU.

 A group of tailgaters invited us to join them for a couple of drinks before the game, and we watched the marching band warm up and rehearse.  This was a completely alien experience for three Australian lads; not only would we never see activity like this on our University campus, we would never see it at all.

The CU marching band, doing their thang.

The band go through their paces before every home game; if the Buffs are playing in the afternoon, they have to begin rehearsal at dawn.  This makes them unpopular with the nearby dorms.

Baker Hall, right opposite the band

We were told that we had to head towards the stadium before the game started so we could meet the team's mascot, Ralphie.  Ralphie is a full-sized adult bison.  She is also a lady bison.  She leads the team onto the field at every home game, and before the game poses for photographs.  This is the fifth Ralphie.

Ralphie.

During half-time we returned to the tailgaters to have a couple of beers.  Their tailgater of choice was an ambulance.  They walked us through why an ambulance is the best vehicle to convert for this purpose; it's large, has a good engine and is already wired for electricity.  This particular fanbulance was kitted out with a grill, satellite television and a roll-out tent at the rear.

The Tailgater was a converted ambulance.

Unfortunately the Buffs lost, but the experience of our first college football game was unforgettable.  We stood on the bleachers in the student section, shouting our trachea dry and shaking our keys to make as much noise as possible.  Fight, fight, fight fight fight!

The Buffs about to kick a field goal.

More rushing.

Stan and Gail had suggested we head through South Dakota on our way to Colorado so we could get a look at Mount Rushmore.  After the drive through Minnesota and South Dakota it was a surprise to leave Rapid City and immediately start ascending.

We climbed into the Black Hills for a couple of hours before we reached the site, where a friendly ranger sold us a 365 day parking permit (they have to make money somehow) and we hopped out to have a look around.

Hey, those guys look a lot like a cliff-face I know.

The first thing I noticed was; I thought it would be bigger.  The second thing; this would be a lot nicer without all the faces carved in it.

No you're right, that doesn't look out of place at all.

After stopping to admire the wildlife we went on the little walk which takes visitors under the Presidential noses.

Unlike these goaty things.

The entire experience was quite off-putting.  While I'm glad to have the boasting-rights about visiting another American landmark, I found the site itself quite hollow.  The carving of the faces has, if anything, destroyed what was a beautiful natural sight.  There is no acknowledgment of this at the monument; rather, all the information provided is a penis-waving blitz about 'American ingenuity and achievement.'

Mountain driving is fun.

That sort of thing is acceptable in the Henry Ford Museum, but not at a stolen Sioux holy site.  I'm learning that expecting humility of any sort from America is a futile effort.

There's nothing to see in Wyoming, but by God there's a lot of nothing.

We drove down through the Black Hills, a glorious and fun drive, and entered the plains of Wyoming.  There's not much to see in Wyoming.  We didn't stop for fuel before we left South Dakota.  Fortunately our car provides us with a mile count-down to tell us how far we can get with the fuel we have. Unfortunately we watched it count down to 'Low' without seeing a town, house, car or living animal in Wyoming until we pulled into the town of Lusk, running on fumes.  Lusk is now one of our favourite places.

As we left Wyoming we drove steadily uphill into Colorado and our next stop, Denver.

Rapid city is actually quite a sleepy place.

Gail and Stan put on a great breakfast for us.

Sorry, THESE were the best eggs in America.

Stan had to run some stuff to the tip, so Gail took us around to look at the town and the historical Fort.  We bought some postcards.

The actual Fort Dodge.

Stores.

We got back and met their neighbour, Pluto, and threw a football around for a while in the street.  The Talk had put on his new Notre Dame t-shirt.  One of Stan's neighbours rang and asked if he knew there was a kid in a Notre Dame shirt throwing a Michigan ball outside his house.  The Talk, suitably ashamed, went inside to change.

Pluto (pup)

Then we had lunch.  And what a lunch.  Hamburgers, more fresh vegetables, a pile of sides, every condiment we could think of.  Afterwards, Gail and Stan made up bags of vegetables for us to eat on the road.  It was exactly what we needed.

An amazing lunch is about to happen.

We made one more stop on our way out of town to buy Iowa Hawkeyes t-shirts to avoid further embarrassment.  Then the drive to Rapid City, South Dakota was in action.

We saw a lot of this crossing Minnesota.

The drive across Minnesota and South Dakota was long, straight and flat.  We did it mostly at high speed, with cruise control on.  Both the Skeptic and I were relying on the other guys to keep us focused on the road.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Minnesota...

The drive was also the worst hammering Maggie has had with insects.  We had to keep pulling over to clean her off, because at night we needed as much help with visibility as we could get.  After a couple of navigational snafus we found our motel and bedded down for a sleep and an early start.

The South Dakota sunset.