Weightlifting, ruins, and ‘gustatory’ delights

Our grandson, Sam, has been fascinated with ancient civilizations for a long time, so at the beginning of his spring break, his dad drove him from Lee’s Summit, Missouri, to Denver where we picked him up.
Although it was spring, this 15-year-old, with curly brown hair and a smile that could light up Salt Lake City, didn’t really take a break.
It all started Monday morning. He only slept three hours because he was talking with an insomniac friend. “I won’t do that again,” he told me as we headed to the gym at six. While he lifted barbells, I started with leg lifts on one of the Nautilus machines, struggling through the number of reps he recommended.
Before I could get up, though, he squatted in front of my machine. “Two more,” he said, “all the way up and all the way down.” I managed, barely. “Two more,” he coaxed, “all the way up and down.” I strained, but succeeded. Finally, I couldn’t lift any more, and he allowed me to rest for thirty seconds before starting again.
After weight training, we shopped and bought two packages with eight steaks each, eggs, artisan bread, a sixteen-inch sandwich, Calypso Lemonade, and other essentials needed for muscle building.
At home, he cooked the steaks and eggs himself and enlightened me about how much protein I should get each day.
Once he inhaled his breakfast, we all headed to the Butler Wash Road, paid the fee, and then hiked down the old wagon trail to the San Juan River. Ted pointed out the ruts from the pioneers’ wagons and the images of cows, horses, dogs, bows and arrows inscribed in the rocks by the cowboys. We visited the ruins near the river and viewed the thousands of pictographs on the river’s cliffs.
After we hiked back to the Jeep, Sam, who was sleep deprived and not yet acclimated to our higher altitude and dryer climate, fell asleep on the way home.
After he rested, we ate at the Patio with Sam relishing one of their burgers and deluxe shakes for the first time. That set the routine for our week except we added driving, since Sam had his driver’s permit, and tennis, since the boys’ tennis coach heard through the grapevine he wanted to play and generously invited him to practice with the team.
On Tuesday, we hiked up Comb Ridge to view the Eagle’s Nest from across the canyon and down to Cold Springs.
Then, we drove to the Monarch Cave trailhead and hiked to it. All three of those Ancestral Puebloan ruins have the IAEE signature along with the date from the Illustrated American Exploring Expedition in 1892 when they journeyed to San Juan County to collect artifacts for the World’s Fair. We discussed various theories about the ancient peoples all the way up and down Comb Ridge.
That evening we dined at the Homestead Steakhouse. “How big are the Navajo Tacos?” Sam asked. “As big as your plate.” My hubby demonstrated the size with his hands.
Much to my astonishment, with Ted’s permission, Sam ordered a Bronco Buster Burger with fries, a Navajo Taco, and a side of wild rice. “I can always take one of the meals home,” he told me, but he consumed everything except half of the wild rice before I finished my salad. “We burned a lot of calories today,” Ted explained.
On Wednesday, we drove to Cajon Mesa and walked to the Cajon ruin, an outlier of the Hovenweep Ancestral Puebloan settlement. After Sam explored the canyon, we went to the Square Tower portion of the national monument.
Established in 1923, the national monument includes five canyon-head settlements. Ted and I have visited many of the Hovenweep outliers this last year, but we hadn’t been to the Square Tower Unit for a long time.
The two-story, unusual Square Tower and the Hovenweep Castle were beautifully constructed, but my favorite was the Hobbit House, Ted’s name for it, but officially known as the Eroded Boulder House. The builders incorporated a boulder as part of the roof and walls, and a tower once stood atop the gigantic rock. It looked like a whimsical home the hobbits would have enjoyed.
After completing the loop trail, we hurried home, so Sam could practice with the tennis team. Later, he told me, “All the guys are chill.”
We spent the next day exploring Westwater with Sam driving us to the Five-Kiva Ruin and natural bridge south of Blanding. Later, he, Kenidee, and I walked part of the loop by the college, and then he ventured off down the canyon bottom to see the wonders.
It was the last of our explorations, but not the last of the gustatory delights. We ate at Gustavo’s in Monticello with Sam woofing down five fish tacos. “Amazing,” he said before bolting down half of my burrito.
On Friday we drove to Denver to meet his parents, with Sam getting freeway practice. I didn’t snooze until Ted took over the wheel. The next day, as we said our goodbyes, Ted hugged him and said, “Never leave us again,” which made us laugh through our tears.
Once we returned to Blanding, our house echoed emptiness, but on Sunday, Sam texted, “My days are going to feel boring because of how much fun I had out there. Love you guys.”
“The idea that no one is perfect,” Doug Larson said, “is a view most commonly held by people with no grandchildren.” The smell of steaks lingered in our house for days.