buy non prescription drugs generic Aurogra Tour bus heading for Monument Valley.
http://ndapak.com/category/projects/sectors/buildings/page/7/ Driving out of Arizona I couldn’t shake a pursuing unhappiness, as I watched mile after mile of desert vanish behind me. I kept the radio off all day and drove in silence. I got out often to take pictures – more than 200 on that one day – but otherwise I kept moving continually, from seven a.m. until stopping in Telluride, Colorado at ten p.m. that night. I didn’t stop for meals – I don’t get hungry in the heat – though I bought a drink or two at some gas stations. My truck has no air conditioning and the heat was impressive. Driving is a solution, of course – the wind does move over you – but it is still only a partial solution. Hanging your arm out the window seems to result in the strange feeling of your arm being a different temperature from the rest of your body.
Turning off the radio was a kind of longing for solitude, and so I approached Monument Valley – one of the targeted stops on this route – with a kind of dread. In every direction there was barren wasteland, but the road was not empty. Giant tour buses would roll through every few minutes, and cars would stop and disgorge three or four French or Italian tourists, uniformly in groups of the same age and sex. They would take pictures and squint at the desert.
Owl Rock. Which does look like an owl.
El Capitan, where you can buy Navajo jewelry.
Two remarkable rock formations stand sentinel over Monument Valley, El Capitan, a volcanic “plug” – a spire of hardened lava probably indicating the root canal of an old volcano – and Owl Rock. Both amazed me.
Monument Valley straddles the Arizona-Utah border, and so as I approached the park and saw the characteristic monument formations – which we all have seen in pictures for our entire lives – I crossed inadvertently into Utah, the 48th state I’ve visited, officially. Since I have a wedding to go to in Maine this summer, I should soon reach 49 states, leaving only North Dakota unvisited. I’ll have to make a special trip to see North Dakota in style sometime soon.
Monument Valley bills itself as a “tribal park,” and at the official entrance to the park there was an impressive line of cars trying to get in. I had been driving for a long time already, and had much further to go, and I felt I did not need, at the moment, to pay for desert scenery which at present could be had in abundance for the price of gas. I turned around and headed back for the main road. I spent a little time exploring some of the rock islands that were outside the park entrance, including some time in a cave, and then headed for New Mexico. I had a powerful sense that I was supposed to be elsewhere and was only procrastinating.
Kuhner's cave in Monument Valley.
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