Since I'm traveling alone today I get all packed up and on the road before 10:30 - unheard of! Consequently, I hit no traffic; I mean no traffic at all. How sweet it is! The day is warm and bright and I'm raring to go. I've been looking forward to this since... well, since last year I suppose. Given all that's happened recently I reckon that I'm even more anxious than usual to arrive at my "traditional" place to celebrate Thanksgiving. Mark is also leaving today, from work (it's about time), and we'll be seeing who gets to lead the way and/or arrive first.

I pass Barstow without stopping at the Outlet Center like I usually do. I want to get there at a reasonable hour for once. The drive through this part of the desert is viewed by most as rather bland if not downright monotonous; it sometimes takes a certain eye to appreciate the artistry of the desert landscape. I for one do appreciate the spare beauty found here, although admittedly this portion is less grand than some. Driving past one section I noted that the plentiful desert grasses here were like a blanket of straw-colored snow surrounding a series of small, rugged, mini-mountains. The clean desert air offered a bountiful view towards the horizon, in all directions, most unlike in LA. Off in the distance I could see the ever changing drifts of the Kelso Sand Dunes (a picture of which gracefully adorns my living room wall). The air was fresh and cool, the sky a deep blue. How could you not appreciate it?

The drive is mostly uneventful - a little bit of traffic in Vegas - and I press on hoping (in vain) to arrive in Zion NP before dark (picture opportunity). It actually starts getting dark about the time I arrive at the Virgin River Gorge on the Arizona-Utah border. This is an impressive 10 mile stretch of I-15 which takes you narrowly between towering ramparts of impressively tilted and folded rocks in a multitude of shades. The road twists and turns from one side to the other; it's not for the motion-sensitive. The fading light lessens the impact somewhat, but I am, as always, awed nonetheless. Noting a plethora of Arizona's finest about I telephone Mark after clearing the gorge to remind him to obey all speed limits (as we all do all the time of course).

I gas up in St. George, a cute little Utah college town, and press on towards Zion. As I crest the top of the plateau outside of La Verne I note that the temperature has dropped significantly, and continues to do so as I get closer to Zion (and higher). We're down to freezing levels now. Brrrr! Just before Springdale, which sits outside the south entrance into Zion, is the hamlet of Rockville. I always look forward to this momentary interlude on my Thanksgiving trip drive because they always hang small strings of Xmas lights across the road this time of year. I am not disappointed as I cruise through. The bright pearls of color are a refreshing and pleasant sight.

I motor past the closed entrance station (can you say "free"?) and soon start up the switchbacks which lead to the mile-long tunnel cut through the mountain during the Depression. Near the top I pull over at an overlook, cut the engine, kill the lights, and get out to drink in the night view. Even in the darkness I can make out the vertical sides of the canyon, the very tops of which are illuminated by the soft rays of the rising moon. The stars above are bright, twinkling in the cold mountain air, too numerous to count. I contemplate the scene for awhile, admiring the subtle details that are discernable at this hour, until my butt tells me to get back onto that heated front seat - it's cold!

I eventually reach the very top, outside the east entrance and start downhill to meet up with US Rt. 89 which will take me north towards Bryce. The moon is now fully risen and lights my way as I draw closer and closer to my final destination. About 30 minutes before stopping I pick up a fellow traveler in the same direction - the Sevier River - which meanders parallel to 89 all the way and beyond the turnoff to Bryce, Rt. 12. It's quite cold outside now, as cold as 6 degrees before the trip is done, and at times I can clearly make out the river's course due to the ethereal fog which rises slowly from the comparatively warm surface of it's waters. At one point I hear off in the distance a pack of coyotes yipping and yelping under the banner of the now bright full moon. Spooky!

My reverie is broken by the chatter of my cell phone. "Hello?" "Where you at?" "I'm just before the turnoff onto Rt. 12. Where you at?" "I'm here" "What? How'd you get in front of me?" "I dunno." "Ok, I'll see you in about 15." Well, in about 15 minutes I finally arrive at Bryce Canyon Pines, 9 1/2 hours after trip's start. Time for a Corona. Have a Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Chris