Whispering Sands Motel at Hanksville, UT - Oct 5, 1996
A Motel is more than just somewhere to lay your head at night, rather it the place where, resting at the end of the day, your mind reflects upon the scenery and events of the day's driving. If it has a fine sounding name which conjures up pictures of the desert stretching into infinity, with blowing sand wreathing across its face, then so much the better. When planning the holiday and the route we should take, for some unknown reason Hanksville loomed large in my imagination. Not a grand name you may say but "Whispering Sands", well that's different.
The roads over which we had driven that day were some of the most beautiful and dramatic that I had ever taken. In fact, my notes for the day say "It must be that route 12 is one of the world's most scenic highways . . . . A wealth of viewing from recognised viewpoints was amazing but the whole journey, even as you drove was spectacularly beautiful". As we drove further, the scenery changed and became the Capitol Reef and we took a right turn onto Highway 24. What had been high and verdant became sparser as we entered the rocky bastions of the Capitol Reef National Park. Now followed a 70 mile drive along the Fremont River following a canyon in desert conditions with a wall of rock on either side of us configured into shapes which led my notes to use statements such as "Walls of Jerusalem, pillars, cathedrals, cities, ramparts, and fortresses". Then, behold, a sign saying, "Whispering Sands Motel, Clean, New rooms". At that stage we had 26 Miles to drive to reach Hanksville and we were driving through the legendary country of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. You could well imagine it too, as you drove through this land of cliffs, rocks and rivers. Reaching Hanksville we had to drive right through the town, nothing like my mental picture, to reach the Motel which truly was new and externally, at any rate looked very clean. It stood behind a large parking area of rough desert sand and opposite a cafi which rejoiced in the name of "Blondie's". The office was in the charge of a rather ample young man who happily let me inspect the room which turned out also to be "clean and new" so in we moved. Oh the wonders of modern science as he tried to swipe my Mastercard, and had to ring 'Auntie' who was really in charge to find out how to work the machine. It took me half an hour just to book in.
Time for reflection as we lay looking out at a clear desert sky filling with the rich colours of evening and thinking how wonderful some of the views we had overlooked that day would be in this rich light. We had passed through Torrey earlier and remembered with sadness the sunken 'Torrey Canyon', an early super-tanker which had discharged oil all over South West England. I had never dreamed that one day I should look over the canyon which gave a name to that ill-fated ship. Later we looked out over a vast area of the Capitol Reef National Park and what I took to be the Glen canyon in the distance. This was where I could see in one panorama, almost every type of terrain short of arctic. Mountains, rock, pasture, forest, river and lake, vast distance and space with wonderful cloudscapes spread before us. I saw it all again in my mind's eye, from the simple motel room in which I now lay 'reflecting' and had to rise and brew tea to help me through the wonder of it all.
Food beckoned and we went up the road to a campsite shop and restaurant for what turned out to be a mediocre meal, returning on foot to the 'Whispering Sands, by starlight for a good night's sleep.
An early rise, the sky still a dark, blue with a stripe of amber to the east, frost on the car and 'Blondie's Cafi' inviting us from across the road. Looking back at the Whispering Sands, a car stood outside every room proving that we were lucky to arrive early. Behind it a backdrop of strangely shaped rock formations upon which the rising sun was working its magic with a constantly changing panoply of colour and texture. Deep blues and purples were drifting into oranges and reds then on into pinks and the palest of blues, while the earlier stripe of amber was now radiant gold. All this, reflecting on the rather mundane face of our Motel was transforming it into great architecture. What a wonderful setting for a breakfast which would last us all day and a memory that would last us for life.
As we rode . . sorry! drove out into the new day, we were Butch and Sundance, but not planning to dive the car from a cliff into the river beneath. Soon we had cliffs, escarpments, coloured sand all around us, now on Route 95.
I quote the Rough Guide to the USA: "Route 95, underrated in its scenic beauty". I have no quarrel with that.
From: John Berry
Red River Valley Motel - Rifle, CO
It was our second time in USA. On our first visit, we had seen Boston and Cape Cod. Wonderful, but this time was to be different. For "high sand dunes" read "Rocky Mountains" and for "sea-shore" read ski slopes"
We landed at what must be one of the world's most beatiful airports, Denver, with its pinnacles of white fabric seeming to emulate the back- ground of the Rockies and were soon heading north for Estes Park and the start of the 'Rocky Mountain Ridge Trail', designated one of America's most elevated and scenic routes. It was closed due to early snow! So, we diverted onto Route 7, also scenic, but to us an anticlimax. The snow thickened as we dropped down towards a road we had not intended to travel, and were forced to take Highway 70 across toward Utah instead of the less busy roads we had planned. Still fine scenery, but never the same when seen from a fast, busy, arterial, six lane highway.
We needed a bed for the night, and made it to a small town called Rifle, where we found the Red River Motel, nothing fancy, but it was next door to a Chinese Restaurant, which had to be good. It was, and we returned to the Motel feeling a lot better, and ready to plan some changes having missed the first of the planned treats. We had never before stayed in an American Motel, so the Pick-up trucks and the burly travelling workers, tourists, and mysterious "I wonder what they're doing" types, were all new to us, as was the seemingly laid back attitude of people who came and went as though it was home. New sounds, new accents, new atmosphere. But all rather ordinary really, I suppose.
So why do I choose to write about it? Because here was planned the most fascinating holiday we had ever taken. We were only one day out, but for some reason changed much of our itinerary, quite unnecessarily, it seems in retrospect. We had a full week in Salt lake City, and then overcame the loss of the 'Rockies Ridge' with a week in the Wasatch, gasping for breath at times at 11,300 feet in the South of Utah, walking a lot in the Autumn - sorry - Fall colours, flying over the Grand and Bryce Canyons, and others in a 4 hour flight in a 4 seater Cessna, and so much more.
Having paid on entry, there was nothing to stop us moving on as soon as we woke, so before dawn, on a morning when it took us 20 minutes to clear the ice off the car, we were on route 13, dead straight for 36 miles and into the dawn. Ther was a lot of road-kill, and lots of scavengers as we drove into the dawn, the road, though straight, interestingly undulating, and so devoid of traffic, it was a joy.
Meeker, Rangely, (where we were introduced to the pleasures of service station 'free coffee' and fast food) Dinosaur and eventually Salt Lake City UT. We were to have 5 weeks of this itinerant freedom, to wander. motels in Fort Stockton, TX, Santa Fe, NM, and Oklahoma, and some which appeared out of nowhere. Heaven only knows where they were.
None however gave us the atmosphere of that first, ordinary, comfortable 'Red River Motel', Rifle, which 'fired' our imagination and where the, albeit sketchy, plans were laid. What a great country America is!!
From: John Berry
Vilano Beach Motel
I just discovered your page and wanted to share one of my recent hotel experiences
Two weeks ago, my girl friend and I attended the wedding of a college friend in St. Augustine Fla. He arranged for the out-of-town wedding guests to stay in what he described as a "Mom and Pop" joint. The establishment was the Vilano Beach Motel on A-1-A. The place is next door to a Pizza Hut and is easily identified by a four-foot tall ceramic flamingo perched atop the lobby roof. Great! All of the rooms appeared to be of different sizes and layouts (I had a chance to look at about six occupied by other wedding guests.) Each also featured a different poorly painted mural. Most were beach or nautical themes (pirates, dolphins, etc.) However, our neighbor's featured Mickey and Minnie Mouse ?!?
The place was ridiculously over-priced at $60 a night and was in poor condition. When we entered our room we found a vacuum cleaner standing in the middle of the cigarette-burned carpet. The bathroom floor was covered in water and there was no toilet paper. The television remote control had only one battery. No phones. I had not stayed in such a sketchy place since an ill-advised night at Jacksonville's Gator Bowl Inn in 1985. Still, I rationalized that I was paying not for the room, but for the close proximity to my old college chums.
The place was run by a character named Emmett who encouraged us to climb on the roof and scolded us if we were not making enough noise or being as rowdy as he thought we ought to be. A gaggle of skimboarders were staying at the motel for a competition that was held over the same weekend as the wedding. Emmett encouraged us to show the youngins how to party and to kick them out of the pool area if we saw fit. It was pretty much anything goes as far as Emmett was concerned.
However, at around 4 a.m. on Sunday morning a large unkempt man came to the door of a room that contained one of several parties going on at that hour. He demanded that we stop the noise or he would call the manager. He was apparently a long-term guest. For some reason, my friend Jim responded to everything he said with "Sure thing, sweetheart." Puzzled, he eventually went away. Emmett said nothing about it when we checked out the next morning.
At any rate, the place has some nice exterior neon including a clock that shines down from the two-story section of the motel. A short walk from the motel is the Lazy Sands Lounge and drive-in liquor store which is worth checking out. They had a bucket of foil-wrapped baked potatoes that I saw several patrons munching on during the night. Strange.
From: John Bennett
Paddlers Paradise Motel
Our family discovered whitewater rafting several years ago and along the way have stayed in several camp grounds and motels in the Fayetteville WVA area. One motel that I would love to hear you critque is Paddlers Paradise Motel in Anstead WVA. We've never run across such friendly, unique characters anywhere before. It's not a fancy motel and the "residents" sometime use the kitchen in the home of the owner to fix there breakfast if they don't want to eat at the resturant that is attached to the motel. Some of the river rafters just camp in the parking lot in their trucks. If you visit they will probably give you a raft trip just to be friendly. It's truly is an experience you won't soon forget.
From: Herb and Edna Dyke
Circus Night
I realize Circus Circus Las Vegas is not a 'motel'; per se. I will submit my story anyway. You be the judge. In 1990, my spouse and I traveled Interstate 15 to Las Vegas. There are lots of billboards on the way advertising casino/hotel bargains. Circus Circus had a billboard which advertised rooms starting at $19. What a bargain. We arrived in Vegas, went directly to Circus Circus to acquire our $19 room. We got lucky, and they gave us $19 accomodations at the 'Ranch.' We drove to the ranch, located north of the main casino. The Ranch consisted of two-story dwellings, parking in front of the dwellings, and of course lots of long distance trucks parked nearby, air conditioning units running full blast. Our room was on the second level (of course...). The decor was vintage circus; consisting of orange-ish/red-ish/brown-ish striped wallpaper, brown shaggish carpet and a double bed. The wall contained paintings(?) of a clown and a painting of a carousel horse. There was also a hanging chain lamp with an orang-ish lampshade.
We proceeded to entertain ourselves with the usual Vegas ammenities; gambling, eating, drinking, losing money. It was late when we returned to the ranch, retired for the night and fell into a deep stupor. Somewhere about 3 am others began arriving at their ranch rooms. They were also in stupors (we know this, because we heard every word, flush, yell, grunt, etc.). About 4 am, we heard whistling. Seems someone was feeling chipper at 4 am and was whistling a tune, much to our delight. At that point, I began to have hellish circus dreams from all the noise, the garrish surroundings or maybe just the buffet food. I haven't visited the Circus since then, it's just too frightening. thanks.
From: Mike O'Connell
North Carolina Drive
I don't know if you've ever had opportunity to drive through western North Carolina on old roads, but I wanted to highly recommend to you the portions of interstate 74 and "old wighway 119" (or was it 129? They both go near there) where they meet each other around Bryson City and Cherokee NC.
We used to drive through there all the time when I was a kid, but just last weekend we went back and I realized what a piece of post WWII history the whole area is. The Cherokee reservation might be a great destination on such a trip -- that is if you need something so silly as a destination. If you go, you'll want to see the outdoor drama "Unto These Hills" about the removal of the Cherokee from the Smokey Mts to Oaklahoma via the Trail of Tears.
From: Vinnie Mendes
Westward Ho!
About five years ago my wife and I decided to drive across northwest Illinois to the Mississippi River. From there we planned to cross and go north in Iowa to Dubuque, recross the river, visit Galena, and the Mississippi Palisades (a state park). The town of Savanna, IL lies right on the river and the Savanna Motel sits on the eastern outskirts. This classic looking old motel cost us $31 + tax and provided us with our most adventerous night during the 28 years we have been married.
Get this ... no air conditioning, a space heater suspended directly over the head of the bed by a pair of sheet metal straps, a telephone that didn't work, a bed so badly crowned that if you rolled toward the edge you were likely not to stop, a television positioned so that you could only watch it from the bed, and a chair that when my wife sat in it she fell through the seat because the webbing underneath the cushion was all disconnected. The final indignity appeared in the morning when I went to take a shower. There was no hot water and the shower head was missing some parts such that what emerged was a laser-focused stream suitable only for damaging parts of human anatomies. We cleansed ourselves for the day with washclothes moistened from the cold water of the bathroom sink. We still laugh about it today.
From: M. Farber
Cincy Motels
I can't believe you left out several classic, local motels. The Alexandria Motel and Webb's Motel both on Alexandria Pike off of I-471. Of course, my favorite of all the local motels is the El Rancho Rankin on Ohio 125 in Mount Washington. In its hayday (the 50's) it was ranked in the top 15 of motels in the country. Unfortualy, it fell in to disrepair and became a refuge for poor residents. Last year the county shut it down because of health violations. Best of luck on your travels.
From: Chris Phirman
Trip Suggesions
First, thanks for your fabulous web site. As a longtime motel-spotter and amateur photographer in the midwest -- I'm based in St. Louis -- this is right up my alley. I'm writing to share some possible suggestions for your trip west next year. . . you probably are already aware of some of this. . .
Have you been to Salina Kansas? My wife and I have been through there four or five times, at the crossroads of old east-west Hwy. 40 and old north-south Hwy. 81. If you can arrange it, show up at dusk. There are at least four or five healthy old-style motels in Salina with working neon signs, the best of which is probably the Log Cabin Motel. A friend tells me that it was featured in the film Natural Born Killers but I can't confirm that. The 'log cabin' itself is a small separate neon-festooned building which sits at the corner of a generous lot, the very corner of 40 and 81. More motels -- there was a Tropicana or Trade Winds or something like that, and in the downtown main street of Salina there's a large neon blue clarinet which marks a defunct music store. Good neon on restaurants and liquor stores too. Look around a bit.
My other favorite place which might fall on your itinerary is Manitou Springs, just west of Colorado Springs, on the road to Pike's Peak. In addition to a bunch of roadside-attraction nonsense, Manitou Springs is home to a string of maybe ten or twelve independent down-and-out properties. You can almost believe it's 1962. To my taste I prefer Manitou Springs to Tucumcari since the motels are in better shape and the surrounding scenery is nicer and less sandy and smelly. (Tucumcari is an old Indian word for 'catbox', did you know that?) My favorite there is the Beverly Hills, an attractive old motor lodge with separate cabins in a great setting next to a burbling stream. . . Offhand I also remember one called the Alpine, several others.
From: Walt Lockley
Howard Hughes Motor Lodge
Boy, do I love your website. I've got a few motel memories of my own, and I can't pick a favorite--so I'm gonna throw 'em all your way, and I hope you enjoy at least one or two!
Most of my childhood memories of motels involve insects. I remember my grandmother leaping around on a Holiday Inn bed, swatting at a junebug with a rolled-up menu until my whole family was in tears, and I still shake my head at the maintenance guy that another motel dispatched to take care of a nest of spiders in our bathroom. He arrived with a towel wrapped around an aerosol can, and after a lot of thumping and spritzing in the john, he emerged and strode toward the door--but on the way, the can slipped out of the towel, and it turned out he was battling the little buggers with Lemon Pledge. What a pro!
Before 1996 trip from St. Louis to Pittsburgh, I picked the Howard Hughes Motor Lodge in Greenfield, IN, as a stopover because the name intrigued me. It turns out the motel was named not for the famed billionaire recluse, but instead for the guy who built it and just happened to share the name of the great man who had not yet become an eccentric hermit. My traveling companion and I briefly considered posing in front of the sign while wearing Kleenex boxes for shoes, but we didn't want to freak out the extremely nice old German couple who run the place. Needless to say, they keep it much, much tidier than Howard (the famous one) would have.
Since my family always kept bottled soda around the house, the only time I ever drank it canned was on vacation, fresh out of the motel's soda machine.
Some of the happiest times of my life were spent by a motel pool in a strange town, with a cold can of 7up in hand...To this day, I'm reluctant to drink 7up from a can unless I'm at a motel; if I drink it canned in any other situation, it just makes me wish I was on vacation!
Similarly, window-unit air conditioners are something I only experienced in motels, and when I moved out of my folks' climate-controlled house and had to get a window unit of my own, the distinctive smell and sound it emanated gave me the pleasant sensation of being on a road trip on my own front porch!
From: Rahoolio
Vegas!
Bachelor party, 12 friends, NO rooms in Vegas...NONE. Reservations at one hotel were not honored. "Sorry, we're full" they said. A huge convention, a title fight, and a Micheal Jackson concert all on the same night took EVERY room in town. At last we found the Royal Oasis Resort Motel. Took they're last 2 rooms. Tinfoil in the windows....filled-in pool...plywood where the in-wall air-conditioners used to be, AND wholes cut in the carpet (where they couldn't clean up the blood stains, we think). Memorable to say the least. It still tugged at the old heartstrings to see a bulldozer leveling it, though.
Good luck on your quest and keep up the good work.
From: KaisrSze
Dreamland Motel
Hi, I really enjoyed your site. I am 28 years old and have been an avid traveler since I was a little tike (with my parents,of course). I remember traveling to Massachusettes when I was 3. It was myself with my mom and grandparents. We left from our home in Daytona, Florida in the early afternoon. By early evening we decided to stop. We were on route 301 in, I believe, North Carolina around the outskirts of Fayetteville. My Grandfather was the driver and, not being known for picking the best restaurants or motels we were all skeptical of his choice. The name of the motel was the DREAMLAND MOTEL. It was small, but looked comfortable enough, so my mom and grandmother agreed to stay. When we got to the room, we found out it was quite small and that it had 2 double beds and lacked a bed for me. My Grandfather called up the office for an extra cot, this was not a problem, they said it would arrive in a half-hour. We were all tired and hungry so my grandfather asked them if they could just leave it in the room while we grabbed a bite.....No problem.....So we decided to try the restaurant on the premises. It was filled with many tourist trinkets, including a Kit Kat clock on the wall. Of course,the clock alone made me want to eat there!....After the not-so-great dinner..we trotted back to the room.....What?....no rollaway!!!!???....The office was notified and soon it arrived in the room. Would you believe there was no room for the cot except in front of the door??....That is just where it ended up being set up! No entry or exit from that room the whole night! Picture that 3 adults and a hyper 3 year old barricaded in a shoebox for the night. Later,my mom went to take a bath....and about 20 minutes later she was pounding on the bathroom door....it was stuck!!!....my grandfather, after much struggling, finally opened it. Afterwards the door did not close making the bathroom not quite so private anymore. We eventually all tried to go to sleep, me shoved against the door hearing cars coming and going, people talking, etc. At about 11p.m. and hours of everyone tossing and turning, we all got up and dressed, moved the giant cot/doorstop and headed home. Almost 21 years later, I became nostalgic for driving on the old routes, so on the way back from a family trip, I decided to drive good 'ol 301. Would you believe the DREAMLAND is still operating after all these years?....The outside hasn't changed at all!!!!.....Amazing!!! I wish I could have checked out the room to see just if.......Maybe sometime......Thanks for bringing up some really funny memories.....
From: Michael K. Barclay
Travel Trivia
Enjoyed your site. Trivia info: Did you know that the majority of independently owned motels are owned by the Patel clan? (Asian Indian.) My friend, Raj, (Southern California boy of Indian descent), is the one who turned me on to this fact. Check it out on your upcoming tours. I'm originally from New Mexico--and four years ago, I had an "opportunity"? to spend a week in Albuquerque investigating these hotels on the old Rte 66 strip. Yep, it seems 90% of them are owned by said family--not just in Albuquerque either. If in Albuquerque, be sure and stay at the DeAnza on Central. Original adobe motel, (expensive--$26! as opposed to the others on the strip - $16.) It was built in 1939, and was on the outskirts of town. My parents stayed there on their honeymoon. It's now been known to have several murders take place on its premises. I stayed there with no such excitment.
From: Frances White, NYC
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