After two and a half months basking in a Pacific Northwest summer and reconnecting with New York, our US visas were about to expire. We weren’t done with the country at all, but for now, the country was almost done with us.
With a couple of weeks left, it was time for something different, time to leave the cities behind and head out on the open highway. We hadn’t set foot in a National Park so far on this trip, and given how much I loved Yellowstone, Grand Teton and Glacier last year, that seemed a major oversight. Yup, it was road trip time.
First stop: Phoenix, a sprawling mass of concrete that seemed it would be best seen from the rear view mirror. The following morning we proved that theory correct, quickly heading out of town on a winding route towards Flagstaff.
Leaving the interstate behind we headed for Sedona, the red rocks and tree-lined roads vastly more interesting than the rear end of yet another RV. What we didn’t know was that these rocks, as impressive as they were, were just a taste of what lay in store for us the following day. We were off to Monument Valley.
Our Airbnb hosts suggested that when it came to visiting the valley, there were two choices. Take photos from the viewing platforms beside the car park, have a bite to eat and leave, or drive the 17 mile road along the valley floor and see a whole lot more.
Given that it was a three hour drive each way from Flagstaff, there was no way we were opting for the five minute photo stop. I mean sure, the valley road was extremely rough, consisting of more clay than dirt and more pothole than anything else. Sure, we were behind the wheel of an underpowered, two-wheel drive Hyundai automatic that was blatantly not fit for off-road driving. There was, however, one other important factor to consider.
It was a rental.
And so it was that we found ourselves bouncing from rut to rut as we descended towards the valley floor. Large pickups almost glided past us, their superior suspension and half a mile of ground clearance serving them well. Us, however? Not so much.
Within seconds it became apparent that the 15mph speed limit was wildly optimistic in a car like ours, and why the signs had suggested that these few miles would take two or three hours to drive. Still, with views like this from every window, I wasn’t complaining.
On we crawled, stopping at every opportunity to take another photo or let the converted pickups that passed for official tour vehicles pass. Paying close to a hundred bucks to get crammed into the back of a pickup and spend a couple of hours having dust blown into my face while listening to commentary blasting through a loudspeaker didn’t seem like my idea of a good time. Judging by the looks on the faces of the passing tour groups, it didn’t seem much like their idea of fun either.
Nope, I’d rather stick with destroying the undercarriage of my rental car, thanks.
One of the lesser known facts about Monument Valley is the great opportunity it gives people like me to bring out their inner teenage boy. Well, with place names like Elephant Butte (above) and Camel Butte, it’s hardly a surprise. Insert snigger here.
Past the Three Sisters we drove, the road finally starting to level out and become packed sand rather than rutted dirt. This was more like it! As long as the road stayed like this, I thought, this drive was going to be fantastic!
Of course, it didn’t.
While the views didn’t get any worse, the track soon did. We had been warned that we would have to drive across at least a couple of creek beds that usually had some water in them in rainy season. This was, of course rainy season. Surprise surprise, there was water in them.
The first one didn’t pose any problems, not much more than an over-sized puddle that even our little rental car could handle with ease. The next one, however? That was a different story. A large pickup was coming the other way, and I watched with some trepidation as the water climbed high up its wheels and sprayed outwards in great torrents.
Stopping beside us, the driver wound down his window and looked down bemusedly at our increasingly-insignificant-feeling vehicle. “Go where I just went,” he advised. “And drive fast.”
So I did.
Brown water gushed everywhere, dousing the bonnet and windscreen. The back wheels slid, the front wheels scrabbled for traction, we both held our breath… and then we were through. Never in any doubt – right?
Best of all, the car looked fantastic afterwards. If only the guy at the rental counter in Phoenix could see us now. He was adamant this thing couldn’t handle the highways and elevation changes on this road trip, never mind dirt roads and river crossings. How wrong he was.
The rest of the loop road, as scenic as it was, was almost an anticlimax after that – although we did get to hang out with horses and pretend we were cowboys for a couple of minutes. It’s fair to say that we were more excited than the horses were.
With time quickly passing, storm clouds gathering on the horizon and my spine suggesting that it had just about had enough of this road, I’ll admit to not being too upset to see the end of the trail approaching. We’d been seriously impressed by Monument Valley, but with that three hour drive back to Flagstaff still ahead of us, it was time to leave.
We’d hoped to see plenty of wide-open wilderness on this road trip, and only a couple of days into it those hopes were already being realised. Dozens of Westerns had been shot around here, and it wasn’t hard to see why. It had made for a long day’s driving, but was absolutely worth the effort.
Those storm clouds broke directly over us on the way home, with thunder, lightening and rain so heavy that everyone was pulling off the highway until it stopped. The upside? No need to wash the car when we got back – it was almost as clean as when we’d picked it up.
Now that’s what I call a good day out.
Have you been to Monument Valley? What did you think of it… and did your car survive the trip?