We're continuing previous chapter of this Journal, which depicts the beginning of our journey; also don't forget the picture gallery.

Kids have discovered frozen puddles; the viewpoint to La Sal Mountains thus became very popular.

Before we crossed those two hundred miles to Moab, Utah, Kubackis had finished dinner, but they still went out with us to have a beer. Great confusion ruled at the Moab Brewery - a server let us know that they were about to close down for two next weeks. Eventually we got our beer and dinner, too. Gabka and Radim had ordered a sampler with all nine of the local brews. Gabka subsequently drove back to their hotel, and while getting frustrated over their dirty windshield, she sprayed and wiped it, thus losing rest of visibility and so she simply followed the car in front of her -- and when it stopped, she stopped, too -- and got quite surprised that it turned out to be a police car, whose crew figured such a driver must be completely drunk to follow them all the way to their parking lot. Gabka had to walk a line, reach for her nose, etc., and eventually blow into a detector. Fortunately, it did not register anything, and she was let go. We had reached our hotel without any incidents (as it also was practically across the street).

This huge balanced rock is one of the most photographed features besides arches in the national park of the same name.

Moab's La Quinta had been probably the best hotel that we stayed in during our trip (and by far not the most expensive one). Roomy, quiet, with friendly staff and a decent breakfast. We missed one on our first day (it lasted only till nine thirty and we had still not gotten acclimatized from California's time zone). We were forced to make do with a weird cafe where they played hits of 70's and 80's, and our server was an Indian (Native American) strongly resembling the Chief character from Forman's One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. Then we moved on to the local grocery store -- a cashier gave us a bewildered look when we asked if they were going to be open on the next holiday (New Year's) -- of course, she said, they open at five a.m. After our experience in Chinle, this was quite refreshing -- we did not have to wade through mud in the town, and were enjoying luxury in the form of an open food store and a functional restaurant.

Three gossips = 2 + one lady with a backpack.

Reinvigorated by benefits of civilization, we were ready for another slice of nature. Arches has been our favorite National Park; and we were hoping that our children would love it as well. Indeed, the viewpoint to La Sal Mountains welcomed us with frozen puddles and one could run around on slickrock. Tom beheld the Three Gossips, asked, what a gossip was, we explained that it was a special type of a lady -- and Tom said, "That lady over there has a backpack." (He's right - check it out for yourself.) Finally we managed to stuff our juniors back into the car and drive on to the balanced rock.

Snow, ice, rocks - best parts of a trip.

A path around the Balanced Rock was quite icy -- a perfect environment for our little engines, who could ride on the rails made by the stony lining of the path, sticking up above the frosted surface. Children liked the head of the balanced rock, rails, views and snow -- and the opportunity to run and play. A trail on the other side of the road offered a large frozen puddle on which on could slide and pretend falling down. Eventually even this place we had to leave as we still wanted to have small walk to the Windows (North Window and South Window).

There we encountered Kubackis, who were currently returning from the Windows. We chatted for a while, confirmed our intentions to have dinner together, and went each on our way -- we to the Windows, they to the Delicate Arch, which we have dismissed as a hike too long and strenuous (we were a bit worried that our kids could fall off a rock due to the ice). Even the stairs to the Windows were frozen over, but the children were trotting relatively merrily. Tom pretended to have fallen in the North Windows and claimed to be horribly tired, but we already know that. My Hippo claimed that one can hike through the North Window and through a back way reach the South Window, and so we tried it. After some rock-climbing intermezzo in the South Window we decided we would not risk sixty feet down a sandstone wall without a rope, and we had to go back. Our kids had a lot of fun with climbing, and Tom, fatally tired only a few minutes ago, now sprinted on the trail to Turret Arch.

Spectacles = North and South Window.

We have thoroughly explored the rock complex around Turret Arch, and rushed back to our car for a snack, seriously starving. Sid was proposing another hike to the Landscape Arch, but the kids protested, and to be honest, I, too, had had enough of walking, and we outvoted him. We stopped at the viewpoint to the Delicate Arch, where our kids regained some energy (perhaps from the snack) and climbed some railing like two monkeys. It ended with Lisa falling and subsequently whimpering. We headed back to Moab and a restaurant. Still it was too early for that and so we stopped near a bridge across Colorado River. Juniors were merry and ecstatic, I was completely chilled. Not being able to sleep (my Hippo snores horrendously, kids yell out in their sleep, hotel guests keep taking showers at ungodly hours etc.) and general tiredness accumulated over previous days, combined with several hours in freezing outdoors, have turned me into a shaky ruin. Eventually my family took pity on me and we really went to the pub. Actually, this was our New Year's Eve party -- as is our tradition, we hit our beds before midnight, hoping that other hotel guests would not party too much. They did not, and we slept, and in the morning we went on to our next stop.

New Year's Canyonlands presented us with incredible visibility.

Canyonlands is another National Park near Moab, but we never had any luck with it. Views of canyons aren't quite right in a fog, when you can't see farther than ten feet ahead of you. This time we were lucky, for it was very clear with extreme visibility. An absence of park rangers seemed to be the only hassle -- a visitor center was closed for the holiday (but not so the entrance to the park), and so we found ourselves inside, only lacking a map. We remembered a few details from our previous planning on the internet, and so we stopped at a few viewpoints, but did not always let the children out. A few thousand feet of a free fall drop off without a guardrail is not a good spot to test good judgement of either preschooler, after all.

Hold on tight, kids! There's a hell of a drop off over here.

For our hike we picked a trail to the Mesa Arch. Right at the start the kids had found some sticks and subsequently poked and dug in the snow and were overall not advancing much. Tom tried to carve his name into a frosted snow bank, and it was difficult (the crust was breaking), Lisa poked some promising icy curtains around rocks. Mesa Arch is a very impressive feature. Not by its size, but by how it frames the edge of a canyon. To my relief juniors were too consumed by their game with the sticks to be interested in the arch; I was not feeling much happy about the drop-off. Sticks had dominated our way back and we had to convince the kids to throw them away before embarking again. This was our last Moab station and 360 miles to Springdale awaited us (not counting the fifty driven through the park itself). The drive was tiresome and monotonous; Hippo was at the wheel for the whole day and it made me absolutely tired.

Mesa Arch.

At half past seven we finally landed before Majestic Lodge in Springdale, Utah. We had spotted it last year, when we stayed at Finnegans and only went to Majestic for dinner. This time, we also hoped for a dinner -- and received it, albeit just so -- the dining hall was closing at eight. Completely exhausted servers ran up and down the restaurant, waiting on a great deal of hungry guests -- they admitted never having expected so many on New Year. It all took a long time, but we were OK with it -- knowing that we only needed to walk over to our room.

Never mind the background, let's dig in the snow with sticks!

They brew their own beer at Majestic -- I'd say it's a class better than the one at Moab Brewery, and so we -- given the fact that we were not going to drive any more -- managed to order two rounds (I had whole two beers!). A gloomy family threw dark looks at us from a nearby table -- first we guessed them Mormons (who don't drink alcohol for religious reasons), but later they ordered beer as well and it turned out they were Germans. I think they were disquieted by the general havoc existing in the restaurant (they had asked waiters on time-off to come for an extra shift, and a great chaos prevailed), as well as by our two children, who were passionately admiring a local indoor fountain, which, perhaps, had been improper?

Our room was indeed *Majestic* -- notice the elks in rut etc.

I would like to mention at this point that Majestic Lodge has been decorated on its every yard with stuffed animals, huge hand-finished beams, elks in rut on every lamp-shade and picture; a fountain the size of a smaller swimming pool is artfully formed from native rocks. A closed-loop artificial brook bubbles through its concrete bed in front of the entrance, and all that is topped-off by life-sized mannequins of Native People, who hang around the gallery and populate some benches throughout the lobby. Our children were quite fascinated by the decorations, while keeping a healthy distance from the stuffed bears. We had a long debate in the evening, why one of the bears was so skinny -- we explained hibernation to the kids, talking about our bear encounters, and how bears are able to eat anything they like to smell, for example, soap. Lisa had concluded everything into a statement that the bear was so skinny and hungry that he ate a soap and died and now he's stuffed in a hotel. So much for education.

Tom was so much afraid of the bear that he could not bring himself to smile while being photographed.

We had a breakfast in the lodge -- again, with a view to gloomy German faces -- then we packed and drove out into our last planned park -- Zion. We wanted just a quick hit, have kids run a bit, before we'd stuff them back into our car for a long journey. For that we chose our favorite lookout into a valley behind a tunnel (Canyon Overlook). The trail was again severely complicated by ice, but compared with previous year, we covered the whole distance in perhaps a third of the time, and it surprised us. After all, our children became experienced tourists. Getting ready to have a snack at the overlook (juniors demand a "picnic" on every hike), I overheard a decidedly Czech child's voice from behind a nearby rock. I would probably encounter Czechs even if they shot me to Mars. Fellow tourists turned out to be a family with two boys of compatible age (plus minus a month or so), on top of that living in nearby Mountain View -- i.e. about twenty miles from our house. Juniors established friendship immediately -- and besides yelling at them sometimes to not get too close to the edge, they did not need any additional attention. In the end they had spent more time playing with each other than we would have considered possible. But then Sid and I were getting really nervous -- about this long drive to Barstow -- 320 miles. Eventually even our new friends set out to the parking -- which saved us; Tom refused to leave his newly found friends.

The trail to the Zion Canyon Overlook led through a sandstone cave.

The journey to Barstow was even more boring than the freeways we had traveled on the day before. The closer we got to Las Vegas, the more boring it became. Unfortunately, it got enhanced by a traffic jam before and across Las Vegas -- and subsequently with one hour stop-and-go hopping over thirteen miles to Prim. We had to get off and pump gas; we also tried to turn on the GPS and find some alternative route, but there is not much there in the desert. Surrendering to fate, we took a ramp back on the freeway -- and soon arrived at the core of the whole problem. Due to some planned work on the road, one out of the three westbound lanes was switched into the opposite direction -- which caused speeders to zigzag in last moment from lane to lane. Having made up their minds and having reached the actual narrow spot, everybody was rushing through and on to the next jam -- this time caused by the California Agriculture Inspection. We managed to avoid it completely by exiting the freeway -- and by having a dinner at an original Peggy Sue's Diner in Yermo. The restaurant is decorated in the 50's style and offers standard American cuisine in slightly above-standard rendering. Even regular hamburgers there were decent and very tasty.

Sentinel (7157 ft) right, Altar of Sacrifice (7505 ft) left.

Upon finishing the drive to our hotel, it was Sid who was completely tired this time, as he had spent most of the day in the passenger's seat. This makes us think that driving three hundred miles is not much of a problem -- at least one does not get bored. To sit in one place and gaze out and to not have anything else to do is much more tiresome. Thus we promised each other that we shall take turns -- and not exhaust the passenger so much.

A view to the Great Arch branch of the Zion Canyon. There's a mile-long tunnel carved into the rock wall on the left, through which we had arrived to the overlook.

This time, we had come across a particularly filthy and worn-out room at a Motel 6 in Barstow, California. Internet was supposed to be available, but was not. The bathtub was in a state that Sid recommended me to not use it. It was the worst accommodation that we had on this whole trip (also the cheapest). We took it as a necessary evil -- after all, we only needed a few hours and a bed, before we drove on, to our own house with our own beds and showers.

Not wanting to risk a breakfast in local joints, we bought groceries in a store and, further equipped with a total tripping hangover, wearing last round of clean underwear (but then also wearing dirty trousers and overcoats), we hurried home. Tom had been promised a stop at the Tehachapi loop -- but from the sunny desert we suddenly entered a nasty fog in the pass, which did not allow visibility more than fifteen feet. Furthermore, we had not spotted a single train since morning -- the only vehicle was as test car, and we concluded that the tracks were being closed. It made no sense to stop anywhere, and we simply suffered through the autumnal gloom of the Central Valley, followed by Lost Hills, all the way to Paso Robles, where we had a slightly belated lunch at Basil -- our favorite Thai restaurant.

We got home a bit ahead of plan -- late afternoon, and there was time to load the first round of laundry in the washer, cook dinner, the whole family taking a thorough bath, etc. We had the whole Sunday coming, to recover from our vacation. And it had been some vacation: nine days, 2,536 miles (4,081 km), six parks (Meteor Crater, Petrified Forest + Painted Desert, Canyon de Chelly, Arches, Canyonlands, Zion), six motels, four states, two time zones.