End of this road

I left Tucson on Thursday later than I had originally wanted. I wasn't feeling well so I took my time loading up the car and went to a co-op to grab some groceries for the next few days. I didn't make it to Alamogordo, NM early enough to visit White Sands National Monument so I tended to my aching body and headed to the dunes in the morning.

White Sands National Monument sits at the northern end of the Chihuahuan Desert in the Tularosa Basin. The gypsum dunes encompass 275 square miles of desert and are the largest gypsum dune field in the world and one of the world's natural wonders. Gypsum isn't usually found as sand as it is soluble in water, however no river drains the basin in which White Sands sits, trapping it in the desert climate as sand.

I took a couple short hikes, the first a 1 mile trail in the ecotone between the Chihuahuan Desert, speckled with shrubs and cactus and small trees, and the nearly barren gypsum sands that glisten with the sun for miles. I saw different little animal tracks near the trail, not really identifying them, probably beetles, but I did recognize the tracks of a pocket mouse. Most of the dune creatures have evolved to become as white as their surroundings, including the little mouse, but they usually rest in the shade in the heat of the sun.

White Sands National Monument.

I followed the road into the center of the dune field and walked along another trail. I veered off, always aware of the trail, since it is easy to get lost in the white expanse, took off my shoes and walked up a tall dune. The sand wasn't hot like that found at the beach, but cool, and I dug my toes into the sand. The dunes seemed to dampen any sound that might otherwise carry, and it was refreshingly quiet of any modern day sounds. Finally, I put my shoes back on and hit the road again.

Saturday morning I headed into Carlsbad Caverns National Park, also in New Mexico. This park is also in the Chihuahuan Desert but in the Guadalupe Mountains. Heading in, the desert and mountains were something I had been seeing for hundreds of miles, and I wasn't totally impressed but I knew the caverns lurked beneath the surface. I walked down the switchbacks into the Natural Entrance, dark and ominous. The patch was paved and once in the depths, which would normally be pitch-black, there were small lights placed behind the speleothems casting dim light and shadows across the walls. It was incredibly mysterious, the air was cool and damp and smelled a bit stale. My heart beat a bit faster, not because it was strenuous, but because it was exciting. I imagined what it was like to be one of the first explorers, heading into the cave blind (no map, no path, no lights), not knowing when the cave might fall away into a pit (which do exist there).

Ansel Adams described Carlsbad Cavers as "...something that should not exist in relation to human beings. Something that is as remote as the galaxy, incomprehensible as a nightmare, and beautiful in spite of everything."

I walked the 2 miles through the Main Corridor and into the Big Room, winding around columns and stalagmites, under stalactites and soda straws peppered with popcorn (yes, these are all terms of speleothems, not just items at the movie theater). I had never seen anything quite like this. It was quiet in the caverns, but if another tourist commented about the rocks in anything above a whisper, if echoed through the cave. Back on the surface, the sun was bright and the air was hot.

I drove as long as I could that afternoon because I had made the decision to skip my exploration of Texas and to drive the 1000+ miles home to the Mississippi Gulf Coast. I was tired and not feeling well and as I said before, getting frustrated with the endless unpacking and packing of the car every day. And I'll still head to Texas in a few weeks to visit Anita in Houston.

(click here to see more photos from my 2 week long, 4000 mile road trip)

Half-way point

Yosemite is absolutely stunning. It is an oasis for hikers, kayakers, climbers, and hang-gliders. However, I imagine it was even better before the miles of pavement crowded with minivans and sports cars. (See the mention of the creation of "National Parking Lots" in Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire). After hours of driving, a long hike sounded good, but I had to be sure to show up at a campground before dark, hoping there would be a spot for me. I went for a short hike up to the top of Vernal Falls and sat around the Emerald Pool. The valley was carved by glaciers and water still flows through, although not much late in the summer, most is in the spring from snow melt.

I made it to Bridalveil Creek Campground, elevation 7,200, just before dark and set up my tent in the mountain air. I drove out to Glacier Point at the end of the road for an Astronomy talk as stars appeared and listened to a young NPS Ranger as the told myths behind different constellations. Then I hunkered in for a chilly night. And it was COLD. After the sun rose and my things were packed, my car flashed a snowflake next to the number 32.

View of Yosemite Valley (and Half Dome) from Glacier Point after sunrise.

I woke up earlier than I had hoped, due to my frozen nose and toes, but headed back to Glacier Point to view Yosemite Valley- Half Dome and all - in the daylight. Then I hiked to the top of Sentinal Dome (not as impressive as it sounds) where I stood on the top of the granite dome and surveyed the valley below. I then took a stroll on the McGurk Meadow trail where little butterflies flitted from flower to flower. Finally, I walked through Mariposa Grove to see the Fuzzy Giant, Faithful Couple, and other notable Sequoias.

Then onward to Los Angeles- a huge, sprawling city with definite traffic problems. I was overwhelmed, to say the least, by the 12 lane highways and the far reaches of urbanity and suburbia. Perhaps it was a bit of culture shock (that's what I blamed). On Sunday, Zander, his friend Greg, and I went to Corral Canyon Park in Malibu to hike to a little waterfall. It's nice how parks can get you easily away from the crazy city life, but as we rounded a turn on the trail, we could hear traffic from the Pacific Coast Highway.

Los Angeles is a huge city like Yosemite is a huge park, it takes hours to drive across. Since we were by the beach (although it was chilly and getting dark), I insisted in jumping into the Pacific Ocean so we wouldn't have to make the trek again. I ran into the surf, ignoring stares from pant and sweater-clad onlookers, and jumped in the waves. It was cold, but worth it. I hadn't been to the beach for too long.

On Monday we explored the Fashion District where fabric shops line the city blocks with lace, satin, flannel, and fleece. We then wondered around Little Tokyo, into quirky shops, and then had some sushi.

Los Angeles Fashion District

It was hard leaving on Tuesday, since I will be on my own until I visit Anita in Houston on Monday. It was also hard because I was getting tired of worrying about my belongings stuffed in my car, tired of unpacking and packing what I need every day, tired of driving and exploring something new every day. It was difficult to drive away from another friend.

Tuesday I just drove through Joshua Tree National Park, I didn't find the desert as exciting as a giant canyon (now all parks are measured against the Grand Canyon, which is hard to come up against). The Joshua Trees looked like little furry people and I kept driving across the border into Arizona.

Now I am in Tucson, where it was 105+ degrees F today. I walked around historic old town and wandered into artisan shops. Then I wandered around Fourth Avenue, an area of shops and cafes and restaurants near the university. Most of the businesses in this area seem to be locally run by participants in the younger counterculture (their windows are plastered with signs concerning equality and against the 1070 bill). I ate a salad at Shot in the Dark Cafe, which reminded me of Kiva Han in Pittsburgh, and a man tapped me on the shoulder to warn me of the cockroach sitting behind me. I jumped, shooed it away, and then took another bite of my salad (a bit concerned).

I like the tile dome roof on the old Courthouse in Tucson, AZ.

I sit here on a couch in the living room of Tucson's hostel continuing to be weary of my itinerary. I'm seeing a lot of sights, trying to take them all in and wishing someone were here to share them with. I know there is that quote about if you don't like being alone then you are in bad company (roughly), but I have reached the hump in my trip of lonely miles. It is tempting to just drive straight to the Mississippi Gulf Coast, but that would be seen as a failure. I am doing this now because I might not have another chance. I am doing this now because I am at a thoughtful crossroads and hope to figure out what is meant for me in this life. We'll see what happens.

Fresh start

Monday began my fresh start. With the car loaded with my worldly goods, my plants sitting in the passenger seat, I chopped off my hair and headed to Bryce Canyon.

I asked a ranger at the visitor center what hike he recommended. He pointed to a trail on the map, Peak-a-boo Loop, accessed by Navajo Trail, to create a "strenuous" 5 mile hike. I laced up my hiking boots and started down the crowded trail of endless switchbacks. There were a lot of French tourists, and I eaves-dropped as best I could. At the bottom of the switchbacks the tourists thinned and I only passed 3 on the Peak-a-boo Loop. It felt good to stretch my legs and breath fresh air, knowing I would be living out of my car for over 2 weeks.

Bryce Canyon National Park on the way up on the Navajo Trail.

Bryce Canyon is MUCH smaller than the Grand Canyon. I walked to the rim and though, "That's it?" I felt like I could scramble to the bottom and across in 5 minutes. But it is impressive, although not in depth or in distance to the other rim, and very different from the canyon I'm used to. Spires and Fins, called "Hoodoos," rise from piles of eroded sandstone, looking like people turned to stone by Cayote (a Paiute Indian belief- and I agree it could be possible).

I drove scenic Routes 12 and 24 to reach Moab and Arches National Park on Tuesday. I passed through Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument (covering about 1.9 million acres of public lands), the last place in the US to be mapped due to its endless canyons, plateaus, and cliffs. I also drove through Capitol Reef National Park (which I never knew existed) that protects the area around the Waterpocket Fold fault line.

Delicate Arch from the Upper Viewpoint (See the people at the base for size.)

I drove toward ominous storm clouds and winced when I reached them, right by Moab. I kept to the more touristy short hikes since I didn't want to get caught on slick rock in a downpour. I saw the Spectacles, Double Arch, Delicate Arch, and Balancing Rock. I expected to see more arches and for there to be less vegetation (these were fueled by Edward Abbeys descriptions in Desert Solitaire). I wandered around the wet streets of Moab that evening, peaking into windows of outdoorsy stores and tourist traps.

Yesterday I reached Salt Lake City to visit my friend Meredith. The city was built up around the temple, the roads named in numbers (designation their distance and direction from the temple), in a neat grid. The city sprawls between mountains and is built low, without huge skyscrapers. We went to a Mormon-run thrift store and hiked a quick mile in the surrounding mountains. We reached the Mormon temple an hour before its visitors centers closed. Not being Mormon, we were unable to enter the temple but were allowed on the grounds. The visitors centers were filled with Mormon beliefs and propaganda. Missionaries wandered the grounds trying to start discussions with visitors (very persistent).

Salt Lake City's Mormon Temple at night.

This morning after picking ripe plums from the trees around the house and having a tasty brunch, I hit the road again. I drove passed the Great Salt Lake, through the Bonneville Salt Flats site of the world land-speed record runs, and over the state line and into Nevada. I filled up the tank and stretched my legs and continued driving. I am on my way to Yosemite, arriving tomorrow. (I can't quite safely drive that many miles on the interstate in one day.)

On the road again

Today is my last day at Grand Canyon National Park, North Rim. It will be spent packing and packing and cleaning and loading up the car. I hope to watch the sunset and enjoy a bite to eat on the veranda one last time.

Although I didn't finish everything on my North Rim bucket list, I am satisfied with what I have seen here. I don't think it is really possibly for a person to fully explore and understand the canyon, I haven't gotten close. But I have hiked the Rim-2-Rim, and witnessed its undying beauty in each different life zone. I saw the seasons change, from snowy spring to hot summer to shorter days as it creeps into fall- the canyon rim erupted in green and wildflowers as spring marched into summer. I would like to witness the aspen leaves change into their fall colors, but I need to move on.

I haven't been completely satisfied with life here for months. Although the location is great, the situation is strange and really not for me. I want to have my own space, I want to cook my own food and not wince down mediocre cafeteria food for every meal. I miss museums and sitting at cafes, drinking tea and talking with friends or reading a book. "I want.... I miss...." I want to be happy in the moment and to take time to appreciate the delicacies of life on earth. But I have become so frustrated with the situation here that I catch only few glimpses of true mindfulness.

You would think this would be a perfect spot to clear your head and soak in the surrounding beauty. It really is, but then I walk from the canyon edge, back toward the employee living area and feel trapped. So onward I go, hoping to move toward self awareness and mindfulness through the exploration of the America West, places I have never before been.

I leave tomorrow morning and will go to Bryce Canyon National Park, Arches National Park, Salt Lake City, Yosemite National Park, Los Angeles, Joshua Tree, Tucson, White Sands National Monument, Carlsbad Caverns, Austin, Houston and then back to Mississippi to help my parents move to North Carolina. And then what? I have no idea. Right now, all I have is time.

Sunset over the Grand Canyon (July 30). Fog slowly filled the canyon until the sunset was no longer visible, but dissipated again to welcome nightfall.