Interesting Museum in a Sad Town

We are slowly making our way toward Arizona, waiting for the temperatures to cool down a little. For some reason, we decided to spend 3 nights in Green River, Utah--I guess because the name of the town was familiar. The John Wesley Powell Museum was right across the street. We had both heard about his trip down the Green and Colorado Rivers to explore the area and we have twice been on Lake Powell, so we were eager to check out the museum.

The 20-minute film showed how dangerous the trip was in wooden boats. Most of the narration came from diaries and writings of the people who survived the trip. This panel on the front of the museum shows a boat going through some of the rapids.

The group started with four boats. One was lost early in the trip, as well as many of their supplies. Looking at this replica of the lost boat, No Name, I can hardly imagine going across a quiet lake in it, much less an unknown fast-flowing river.

We weren't aware that Powell had made two trips down the rivers, in 1869 and 1872. On his second trip, he often rode on a chair like this, strapped to the boat. Can you imagine?

This sculpture in the museum gives an idea of how the explorers faced and overcame numerous challenges.

Powell was an amazing man. With almost no formal education, he learned geology on his own and was a college professor in that field  at Illinois Wesleyan University.  He fought in the Civil War, losing an arm during the battle at Shiloh.   During his time in the American west, he became an expert in Native Americans of the region and in their languages. He published several books in that field.

There had been earlier expeditions to explore the river and this unknown part of the American west. Powell was the first person to complete the entire trip from Flaming Gorge in Wyoming clear through the Grand Canyon in Arizona. In addition, some of the Mountain Men had attempted to navigate parts of the river in bull boats, like this.

I enjoyed listening to this Mountain Man, who told the stories of these other river runners.

We were glad to find this museum in Green River. Other than the Tamarisk Restaurant, where we had an outstanding breakfast, there wasn't much to do there. Like I said in the title, it is a sad town. Obviously, it was a major stopping point in years past. Whether I-70 and the fast travel it provided caused a decrease in travelers stopping or what, we saw lots of abandoned motels, gas stations and other businesses. This shows on of the creative uses of an old gas station.

This bank went out of business years ago. At one time, it was used as a souvenir shop. Today it is one of many abandoned buildings in town.

This house has obviously seen better days.

A motel and cafe that are still in business had neat old Route 66-type signs.

It has been many years since this truck has driven down the road.

On the Move

All over the country, RVers are on the move. September and October are great months to travel. The weather is good in most parts of the country and the leaves are turning to bright shades of gold, red and orange in many places.

The first wave of snowbirds are heading south, like we are. That move may be very slow. We are waiting till the temps in Mesa drop out of the triple digits into the low 90s. And all along I-40 and I-25, people are headed for the Balloon Festival in Albuquerque. Two different people asked if we, too, were headed there. No, we're headed west and south.

In Gallup, we saw an Airstream Caravan going to the festival. We enjoyed the decorations in the USA RV Park there.







I would hate to try and sit on this saddle.



We couldn't believe the location of the TV satellite on this small RV. I hope they move it when they drive down the road.



We are spending two nights in Holbrook, AZ, along old Route 66. That is about all the town has going for it at this point.



We wandered through the town's cemetery. We found a number of graves marked as unknown. When we read about the town's history, we learned it was a really rough and tough place in the early years. When the Texas Rangers chased the outlaws from that state, they made their way to this part of Arizona. One year, at least 26 people were shot to death here. Maybe they are some of the unknowns in the cemetery.



You can tell a motel has been around a long time when you see it has refrigeration (air conditioning) and electric heat.



Some of the old signs are kind of cool and bring back memories of Historic Route 66.









The Navajo County Courthouse was built in 1898 and used that way until 1975. It now houses the visitor center and a museum.



All over the town you can see petrified wood. After all, the Petrified Forest is just down the road.



There are also murals on some of the buildings.





We ate breakfast at Tom and Suzie's Diner. The food was OK, but the building was like most of the town, old and run down, but very clean. Our RV park, OK RV, is the same way.

Only in a Small Town

You know the saying, "neither rain, nor snow nor sleet keeps the Post Office from delivering the mail." Or something like that. Do you believe it? Today, we do.

All of our snail mail goes to a post office box in Littleton, CO, and our son Eric periodically sends it to us in a USPS Priority Mail box. It usually arrives in 2 or 3 days. Last Wednesday I sent him a text message with a General Delivery address of Tumacacori, AZ. He texted back in the late afternoon, saying he was mailing the package. So Friday we stopped by the Tumacacori Post Office. The mail wasn't there. When I asked about getting it Saturday, the postmaster, Joanne Stupy, gave me a business card with the phone number. Though the post office window isn't open on Saturday, she said someone would be there in the morning until about 10, distributing mail to the post office boxes.

That was impressive. You need to go through an 800 number to reach a post office in most cities. To be told I could call when the post office wasn't really open was very special. I called on Saturday--no mail. I called this morning, again--no mail. I asked if the package could be forwarded to somewhere else, as we were leaving tomorrow. "Yes," she said. So we went to the RV park office to pay for one more night, then we planned to drive to the post office and leave a forwarding address. While we were in the park office, they received a phone call, asking if they have someone named Anderson who was looking for a general delivery package. The woman here looked and said, no one named Anderson. After she hung up, I asked if that was the post office. When she said yes, I pointed out that our name was Andrews--very close to Anderson. She called and found that our mail had been sent to the Amado Post Office--about 1 mile from here. I had put the wrong zip code on the package.

We drove to the Amado PO and picked up the package. It had been delivered there, the zip code changed so it went to Tumacacori, then again sent to Amado. Only then did the postmaster Joanne realize it might belong to the woman who kept calling about a general delivery package. So she called the two RV parks in the area, hoping she could locate us.

Such service would never happen in a city. The box would have sat on the shelf in one of the post offices for the required 30 days or so, then be sent back to Eric. Instead, we received it today. Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor my giving Eric the wrong zip code kept the Post Office from delivering this package. And are we ever grateful!