USA 2009 - Arizona

Da Monument Valley stato dell’Utah a Page stato dell’Arizona km. 200

Departure at 7.30 am Today is a quiet day, a short trip of about 200 km, then a stop to visit Antelope Canyon, an unplanned addition suggested by a member of the group. Here nature has outdone itself with a surprising masterpiece of colours. We are in front of a splendid sculpture in stone. Anyone who knows about photography can let their creativity run wild here. There are beams of light entering from above and hitting straight down at particular times of day, enough to leave you spellbound, while at all other times the play of intense, deep colours calls for exploration and total immersion. The walk inside the canyon is thrilling; the spectacle does not disappoint.

So we had to pay 6 dollars per person for parking and 25 dollars, also per head, for the guide, a very nice and enterprising lady who, as well as guiding us, took our cameras, of different types and quality, and took the photos herself from positions she knew, thus obtaining perfect framing; I tried to imitate her but I didn't succeed. To get to this canyon they took us in exceptional off-road vehicles; they had raised suspensions and mounted absurdly oversized wheels; they looked like monsters. Before entering the campsite, the usual evening refuelling and shopping at the supermarket. Tomorrow another birthday and consequently another cake; by now I've spoilt them. Lake Powell Campground Plpc campsite – N 36 54 59 W 111 27 36

Camping Lake Powell Campground Plpc

Today's appointment is set at the Lake Powell Resorts & Marinas. We get there by crossing the dizzying iron bridge above the dam. We and our travel companions find ourselves for the first time before the lake. The construction of the Glen Canyon Dam, which blocked the course of the Colorado River, changed the maps and gave life to Lake Powell, and made accessible a desert and wild region in the heart of the United States, inhabited for centuries only by the Navajo. The encounter with Lake Powell is striking. The length of its shores (3,500 km) exceeds that of the Pacific coast of the United States (3,100 km). It's surprising how the waters teem with perch, trout, giant carp, and the banks are carpeted with sand lilies, lupines, wild rhubarb despite the typically arid area that could only allow cacti to grow. Sailing on Powell is an experience that alone is worth the trip.

After a few miles we slip into a canyon. The sun at its peak enters perpendicularly into the crevices and colours the rocks reddish and intense ochre. The last part of the navigation requires a lot of attention. The canyon is narrow and you risk bumping into the imposing walls. Finally we moor and go ashore. The sun is high and makes it tiring to walk the half mile that separates us from the Rainbow Bridge, a gigantic natural stone arch in the heart of the Glen Canyon Recreation Area, 88 metres high and 84 wide. But in the end, behind a rocky spur, there it appears in all its majesty, so perfect it seems artificial. In its presence you are left speechless. Astonishment and admiration, imagining the same feelings that struck the natives and explorers of the early century. We are happy that this American experience has brought us here. Not everyone gets to live it, we feel very fortunate.

We retrace the same route back to our boat, which continuing its course disembarks us at Dangling Rope Marina. It's a rest stop used mainly by boaters as a refuelling point. On returning in dribs and drabs to the campsite, many, myself included, get lost in the town of Page; unfortunately the coordinates are wrong, they lead us to the town centre but not to the campsite, everyone sends out SOS over the radio and PL comes to pick us up and like so many lost little sheep leads us back into the flock (read campsite). After dinner everyone gathered at Rosanna's camper, to celebrate her birthday. A quick meeting for tomorrow's programme and....everyone to bed.

From Page to Grand Canyon State of Arizona km. 220

A few km after departing at no. 15 a tyre bursts, fortunately one of the rear duals, already checked by a tyre fitter earlier and also by me, but not the one that burst; PL takes it back to Page to a tyre fitter, another camper joins in which also has tyres at risk. After the repair and the check of the two campers with replacement of several tyres, using the spares also of other campers, PL, rightly, has everyone come back to the workshop, given the tragic state of the tyres it was better to check them all, especially those of the El Monte; mine was checked too but not well, I would later notice that the front left had a corner worn down to the canvas; if that wheel had burst while driving, the consequences would have been very serious.

We leave Lake Powell and head towards the Grand Canyon, amid breathtaking scenery whose main theme is infinite spaces and a succession of colours bordering on the unreal. We pass Cameron and arrive at the Desert View viewpoint, where the Watchtower stands, the loveliest creation of architect Mary E. J. Colter, a former teacher, to whom several historic structures along the South Rim are owed. The upper floors of the tower are decorated with 20th-century Hopi murals. The spectacle before us is unique. We believe we are facing the best views of this enormous chasm, a fantastic vision dominating the canyon for a long stretch. At the campsite in the evening meeting PL explains a gross error: tomorrow we are to travel down the Colorado by rubber dinghy as per the programme, but the departure is from Page, the town we left this morning, so a bus will take us back 220 km.

We'll do the river trip and the same bus will bring us back to the campsite. We note that on that famous letter from Hotelplan the departure indication was clearly written and it was pointless coming here just to go back, 440 km done for nothing. An inexplicable error. To bed angry also because some participants will give up the trip and stay at the campsite. Trailer Village Campsite – Grand Canyon – N 36 03 10 W 112 06 44

Camping Trailer Village – Grand Canyon

It's very early when we get on the bus to return to Page; here we change vehicles, taking a smaller and much narrower one, we'll later understand why; to reach the small harbour at the foot of the dam, the departure point of the rubber dinghies, we have to go down a tunnel used at the time for the vehicles employed in building the dam; the driver, certainly very experienced from having done the route many times, travels through this very narrow tunnel at breakneck speed, grazing the walls. On arrival, a vast spectacle opens up before and behind us: behind us the dam, which seen from below seems much taller, the iron bridge we crossed to go to Lake Powell seems very high, and in front of us the Colorado wedged between the very high banks of the Grand Canyon leaves us open-mouthed.

We take our places on two dinghies with a double pontoon; they have an engine that runs on gas so as not to pollute the environment. With us there's a very friendly ranger. The moment has come to let ourselves be carried by the waters of the river. We set off along an unusual route of about three kilometres that runs for about 25 km and takes us to discover one of the most evocative stretches of the river; the sensations are many. We have read in our guides about the history of the sandstone cliffs, the green-blue waters, the rich wildlife, the explorations of Major John Wesley Powell and those of other adventurers, the role of the river in the contemporary system of water and electricity distribution for the south-east of the United States.

We soon come alongside a sandstone wall where several Indian petroglyphs are carved; during this stop along the bank of the Colorado we are kindly offered by the organisers a cooler bag with everything needed for a picnic. We resume navigation singing at the top of our voices the best-known songs and even the Italian and American national anthems, making our ranger friend smile. We continue our journey on the river towards the historic Lee's Ferry, which marks the end of our exciting trip today. On the return journey, we stop at the Trading Post, one of the best Indian souvenir shops. Needless to say what the women did in this instance. In the same role and in the same place, the Indians of old would go to stock up, buying goods in exchange for their precious fabrics.

Before returning to the campsite the bus stopped at characteristic points to view once again the spectacular Grand Canyon; a pity that the inclement weather didn't let us fully savour the sight of this immense space.

From Grand Canyon to Meadview state of Arizona km. 358.

We resume our journey, but not before pausing to admire glimpses of the Grand Canyon for the umpteenth time, last photos, and off we go. After the coffee stop we leave the normal road and join the historic Route 66; I was a bit disappointed, having seen it in films it seemed a very wide and very long road, instead it's narrow, little travelled, and very little of the original remains. Still, I can say I've travelled this famous road. We arrive in the late afternoon at the junction for the Grand Canyon Sky Walk (N 36 00 44 – W 113 48 42); we note that to go up to this site there are 40 km of dirt road; there would have been a bus that would take us there the next day, but unfortunately our limited and scheduled time doesn't allow us to wait. We decide to go anyway; PL and others go to the campsite, the road was truly awful, many give up, only we and camper no. 12 hosting the crew of no.

13 remain; after 25 km of dust and potholes we have a nice surprise: the road is paved, calmly we reach our destination. We go to Eagle Point, where the entrance to the "Skywalk" bridge is, literally "walk in the sky", a horseshoe with glass walls and floor overhanging the void or rather, over twelve hundred metres of emptiness over the Grand Canyon. It's a glass balcony suspended in the void thanks to the support of 450 tonnes of steel, wanted by the "Hualapai" Indian tribe, which allows you to experience the thrill of being in nothingness and to see the great river, right down there beneath your feet, amid red rocks as old as two billion years. What can I say? You're left stunned, a lump in your throat cuts off your words. A strange trepidation takes hold of us from the tips of our feet up to our head. As if the ground were truly missing beneath us. The spectacle is immeasurable.

We hold our breath for an instant, then the visible emotion suddenly pours from our eyes. We believe we have never seen anything like it. We ask about the structure of this ring. The weight of the Skywalk is comparable to that of four Boeing 757s and it was positioned in the void using an elaborate system of pulleys held by four powerful tractors. Placed inside a concrete container, the glass bridge was rested against the wall and slowly raised until the rear part was fixed to the wall itself. They explain how safe this glass ring is, extending out into the void for about 25 metres. It can bear the weight of 72 jumbos, wind gusts of up to 165 km per hour, earthquakes of magnitude 8 on the Richter scale with an epicentre at least 80 km away. It would be hard to find a structure equally safe. I had seen all this in a documentary on TV.

For this spectacle we paid 140 dollars per couple and without being able to take photos from inside or from the balcony; if we wanted them, they took them and we would have paid 30 dollars each. We didn't accept. After doing the 15 km of paved road and the 25 of dirt road again, we rejoin the rest of the group, which has meanwhile split between two campsites since the first was too small to host us all. It was the wedding anniversary of no. 3 and I had prepared the usual cake; unfortunately we were in the second campsite and they in the first, tired from the road travelled, I got the cake to them but we didn't take part in the party. Meadview RD Park Campsite – N 35 56 24 W 114 05 12.

From Meadview state of Arizona to Las Vegas state of Nevada km. 180.

We arrive in Las Vegas, in the morning around 11.00. The campsite is in the centre of the city; to get there, finally, we see roads and junctions we had seen in films, very intricate but with clear signage. Once the campers are settled in this all-paved campsite, we get ready for our appointment with the guide in the afternoon at 18.00.

After lunch a well-deserved rest; we were supposed to meet PL at 16.30 to discuss a complaint to be sent to CC Italia and Hotelplan; we had just lain down when PL knocks and tells us the meeting is brought forward, it will be at 15.00; we would later learn that this shift was due to the request of one of the group who, wanting to visit the city on his own, wanted to bring the meeting forward to have more time available; to get this, he didn't take into account the people who like us were already in bed resting, those who were in the pool and those who were about to go out early to be back at the appointed time.

PL listened to just one person without thinking about the various plans of the others; this created bad feeling in the group and Tina in particular reacted in a hardly orthodox way with the person in question who, instead of apologising for his behaviour, accused her of words never said that unreliable people had reported to him. After the discussion we moved on to drafting the letters: a list of shortcomings on the agency's part, both for the vehicles and for assistance. A pointless letter. In my opinion, the participants had always dealt with CC Italia, the sum of 12,500 euros was paid to it and complaints should have been addressed to it; Hotelplan comes in second. Probably PL wanted and requested this letter to cover his....... The bus arrives along with the guide, a friendly lady who will accompany us in visiting the various hotels and casinos.

She will take us to get drunk on everything that is pretence, spectacle, seduction, gambling. Here the stars don't exist, the main star is her, capable of lighting up the sky as bright as day. The gangster Bugsy Segal had imagined it, when in 1964 he opened the first casino there. Las Vegas, Sin City, the city of sin and a thousand temptations, is the cathedral built by America in the middle of a desert, in honour of the god money. It takes just a moment to get lost inside it; you're stunned by the intensity of the hot air, wrapped in the spectacle of the big hotels of the Strip which, at dusk, shines like an immense amusement park. We start with The Venetian, an artificial Venice, where gondoliers intone Neapolitan melodies, proceeding slowly along the canals. Above, the sky is dominated by a wonderful moon, this time (a rare case indeed) a real one.

The Eiffel Tower stands imposingly tall at the Paris. On one side is the Mirage, on the other the pirates' show at Treasure Island, complete with cannon fire and actors improvising battles which we didn't see because it was outside the scheduled times. Right after, Caesar Palace dominates the scene, shining in all its aura of ancient Rome. Beside it, jets of water emerge, as if by magic, from the lake of the Bellagio, dancing to the rhythm of classical music or jazz. In the background we glimpse the castle of Excalibur shining in a thousand colours, with its red and blue roofs that look like marzipan. In the distance, instead, the profile of the spectacular pyramid of Luxor stands out, with its sphinx that at night seems almost phosphorescent, where we will have dinner at a self-service; you pay before entering and you eat what and as much as you want.

Downtown the atmosphere is much less glamorous and touristy, except along the Glitter Gulch with the Fremont Street Experience, where videos and light installations are projected with special effects for a spectacular show. The sky above your head is artificial: colours, images and flashes race across it at a furious pace. Those who rule the roost in Las Vegas, however, are the casinos, with their roulettes, the thousand slot machines, the poker and baccarat tables. You just need to walk along the Strip to hear everywhere the noise of coins falling from the money-eating machines. People at the bar, while drinking a drink, getting their stiff shoulders massaged from the continuous movement of the arm which, after inserting the coin, has to pull down the lever, and this continuously, always hoping to see a shower of winning coins.

Inside, the windows of the casinos are disguised to make you lose all sense of time, they are always the same, always identical whether it's day or night, they don't let the sunlight through, for an artificial and totally deceptive atmosphere. The trick is to ensure that even the most hardened gambler doesn't notice the hours passing. We too would have liked to try the thrill of gambling, but we lacked the time; in the end we realised we had won because we hadn't lost. Returning to the campsite, we seek silence. Las Vegas Circus Koa Campsite – N 36 08 31 W 115 09 57.

Conclusion

So much effort and so much fatigue for this trip that gave us emotions hard to describe. Every day was unique, unmissable, extraordinary, also thanks to the commitment and determination of all our adventure companions. What do we remember most? Hard to say. Every place, in its own way, was wonderful. This trip will be memorable.

Our thoughts go, in order, to the impetuous charm of Niagara Falls; to the badlands of the Badlands; to the faces of the Presidents carved into the mountain; to the magnificent Devil's Tower, to the moving Old Faithful and the whole of Yellowstone Park (even though we didn't see Yogi Bear and Boo Boo), to Monument Valley, and its delicate arches and its spires; to the light filtered through Antelope Canyon; to the mythical Lake Powell with the Glen Canyon Dam; to the superb, the great, the beautiful, the breathtaking Grand Canyon; to the lights, the sounds of Las Vegas; to the very hot Badwater in Death Valley; to the very old and very big General Sherman and the unexpected snowfall at Sequoia National Park; to the wonderful Golden Gate Bridge and the San Francisco skyline seen from romantic Sausalito; and finally, to the great New York, its skyscrapers, Central Park, Brooklyn Bridge, the

Statue of Liberty (seen from afar). There would have been so many other things to tell that we haven't included in this text. Others we could have mentioned but that are found in all the tourist guides. Still others, like the most intimate sensations and emotions….that can never be described but will remain prisoners forever within us. Now it's truly all over. It's time to go home, see our friends again, continue our usual life, waiting for another wonderful trip to enjoy together.