Valley of the Gods
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We caught one final sunrise in Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park before packing up. On our way toward Valley of the Gods, we made a quick stop at the famous Forrest Gump Point along Highway 163, the stretch of road where Forrest stops running in Forrest Gump. We pulled over, waited for a break in traffic and other sightseers, then stepped into the middle of the road for our obligatory selfie. Touristy? Absolutely. Worth it? Of course.
Sunrise in Monument Valley
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By pure coincidence, one of Danny’s friends happened to be in the same region at the same time, and we arranged to meet him in Valley of the Gods. The road in was rocky and deeply rutted, so we crawled along with the Casita. Boondocking sites are scattered throughout the valley, and he had already claimed one for us. We spent the afternoon relaxing at camp, catching up, and enjoying the stillness of the desert.
The road in was rocky and deeply rutted, so we crawled along with the Casita. Boondocking sites are scattered throughout the valley, and Danny’s friend had already claimed one for us. We spent the afternoon relaxing at camp, catching up, and simply enjoying the stillness of the desert.
That evening, a rare desert storm rolled in and dropped a steady rain. It doesn’t take much precipitation to make an impression in a place that averages less than seven inches a year. Fortunately, the dirt roads weren’t too muddy when we headed out the next morning toward Mesa Verde National Park.
On the drive toward Mesa Verde, Highway 162 had a stretch under construction. When the pavement ended in a slick stretch of wet dirt and mud, Danny made the executive decision not to gamble with the Casita. We turned around and rerouted, losing about an hour and a half.
Unfortunately, the alternate route wasn’t much smoother. At one point, we heard a loud thud. We pulled over, and Danny walked back along the road to retrieve an oil catch can that had shaken loose under the hood. He tightened it back on and we continued — only to discover a few miles later that one of the bikes was hanging halfway off the rack. The jostling had given it a flat tire and shifted it precariously.
We finally arrived at Mesa Verde in the late afternoon and set up at Morefield Campground
The road in was rocky and deeply rutted, so we crawled along with the Casita. Boondocking sites are scattered throughout the valley, and Danny’s friend had already claimed one for us. We spent the afternoon relaxing at camp, catching up, and simply enjoying the stillness of the desert.
That evening, a rare desert storm rolled in and dropped a steady rain. It doesn’t take much precipitation to make an impression in a place that averages less than seven inches a year. Fortunately, the dirt roads weren’t too muddy when we headed out the next morning toward Mesa Verde National Park.
On the drive toward Mesa Verde, Highway 162 had a stretch under construction. When the pavement ended in a slick stretch of wet dirt and mud, Danny made the executive decision not to gamble with the Casita. We turned around and rerouted, losing about an hour and a half.
Unfortunately, the alternate route wasn’t much smoother. At one point, we heard a loud thud. We pulled over, and Danny walked back along the road to retrieve an oil catch can that had shaken loose under the hood. He tightened it back on and we continued — only to discover a few miles later that one of the bikes was hanging halfway off the rack. The jostling had given it a flat tire and shifted it precariously.
We finally arrived at Mesa Verde in the late afternoon and set up at Morefield Campground