Crazy California: What tree? (Part 1)

September 3, 2015

Flagstaff. Once again, I was sitting in the same booth at the Campus Coffee Bean. It was the closest thing to feeling "at home" I'd felt since I left. Moving around from place to place makes it hard to develop any sense of familiarity for which I rejoiced in as I ordered the same gyro for a second time. To top it off, I camped out in the same forest that night. For someone who generally does poorly with routine, I was craving it.

The next morning though, the adventure had to continue on. I was to cross into a state I'd visited practically every year of my early life and many times in my adult life. This time though, I wanted my experience to be different. And indeed, it turned out to be a wonderful time.

Joshua Tree National Park

Crossing the desert between Arizona and into Southern California was rather uneventful. The only thing stopping me from flooring it was that the highway was as wavy as a strip of bacon. It felt somewhat like an amusement park ride as the dips were large enough to cause me to feel the inertia in my stomach. Just as I resigned myself to endless desert, this happened.

Yes, I turned around just to take this picture...

As I neared Joshua Tree National Park, I kept wondering if my GPS had lead me astray. I could see I was driving right along the park, but there weren't any trees. I passed by a shell of a town and I wondered why anyone had ever tried to eke out an existence there. The park's Visitor Center was actually outside the park which was a new experience for me.

The weather at the Visitor Center was windy, hot, and extremely humid for being in the desert. The ranger told me that the weather was actually the best kind of weather for Joshua Tree since it usually gets much much hotter. Okay...I'll take less stifling over more stifling.

Joshua Tree NP is a strange place and like nothing I've seen in all my travels. It's similar to Saguaro NP in that people go to see a cactus. But, you know what a saguaro looks like because it's in every picture of appropriated Mexican culture: tequila, sombrero, cactus with two arms. The first thing I thought when I saw a Joshua Tree was: Wookiee. The second thing was that it looked like the tree version of a yucca plant. The latter turned out to be a pretty accurate description of what a Joshua Tree is.

The Joshua Tree is not actually a tree even though it acts like one. It's a giant yucca. The Mormons got this one wrong just as they named Cedar Breaks incorrectly. The inside of the Joshua Tree is made of fibers which don't grow in rings, making them almost impossible to date. Their root systems are shallow and can radiate over 30 feet around the tree. And, they are super picky in where they grow. Mojave desert or bust!

Joshua Trees aren't the only plants that make up this alien landscape. There are groves of cholla and ocotillo. Actually, there are over 750 species of vascular plants in the park, but my favorite were definitely the cholla. You can read a little about the cholla in the Sonoran Desert in The Arizona Circuit: Saguaro National Park (Part 4).

In the end, the weather turned out to be more than perfect. It was sunny and cool inside the park and I enjoyed exploring the sights.

Red Rock Tour: Utah and Arizona (Part 3)

August 23, 2015

Vermilion Cliffs National Monument

Do you know what The Wave is? You'll have to look it up yourself because I was unable to capture it in person.

Hiking The Wave in the Coyote Buttes section of the Vermilion Cliffs was the only really touristy thing I wanted to do in Utah/Arizona. So, on a sunny Monday morning, I pushed the speed limit to make it to the BLM office in Kanab, UT on time for the daily lottery to get a permit to hike The Wave.

I arrived at the BLM office right on time after first going to the wrong office and then overshooting the correct office by 15 miles or so. How I missed the Wendy's (the landmark I was looking for) right across from the office is beyond me. Right on time, I was ushered into a small room along with 30 or so other people.

There were 104 people trying to get a hold of one of 10 available permits. The stars were not in my favor. Nevertheless, I stayed and hoped my less than 1% chance would come through. Honestly, I'd be more likely to get federally audited than get a permit to hike The Wave.

Three families made off with the 10 permits and I left deflated, but still ready to make the most of my day. Heavy rains had saturated the soil in both Grand Staircase Escalante and the Vermilion Cliffs, and it was advised to postpone driving on the trails until it had dried out. I'd watched a group of Japanese tourists try to get the muddy clay off their once stylish shoes and decided hiking was also out of the question. I left south excited to go to the Grand Canyon North Rim.

Grand Canyon North Rim

I'm still not sure why the South Rim of the Grand Canyon receives all the hype. Is it because the canyon views are grander and the temperature is warmer? I can say that both the North and South Rims will offer you breathtaking views which may cause mild vertigo if you stand on the edge. But, I can say that every time I've gone to the Grand Canyon, I've vastly enjoyed the North Rim far more than the South Rim. Why pay a $30 entry fee to get crammed on a bus full of other people on a hot day?

Can you tell which picture is which side of the canyon?

The Grand Canyon is a large hole in the ground which has been carved by water for a long time. Whether you think it's 5-6 million years old or closer to 70 million years old, it doesn't really matter. A lot of time has passed to create one of the most iconic landscapes in the whole world. The canyon is so big you can see it from space.

Besides it's incredible size, the most notable feature of the Grand Canyon is that it's the only place in the world where so much of the earth's history is laid bare. The walls of the canyon expose nearly 40 sedimentary layers which date between 200 million and 2 billion years old. Dinosaurs are historical babies in comparison as they lived between 65 and 230 million years ago. But, I digress.

The North Rim is a special place to me and I knew we'd instantly be friends as soon as I rolled my windows down and enjoyed the cooler air of the North side. This time, I was prepared for the cold nights. I even paid for a campsite! My first real paid-for campground spot. One thing I learned from the North Rim is that even if the entrance station says the campground is full, it never hurts to inquire within because the right hand doesn't always communicate with the left.

The most enjoyable hike I did at the North Rim was a small hike to a live seep spring. It was hidden under a cliff alcove, similar to the ones under which the Ancestral Puebloans built their houses under. Unlike the dry springs rumored to have sustained life at other sites, this one was still going! I spent a good while just listening to the drip drip drip of the water while enjoying the canyon landscape.

I did hike a portion of the North Kaibab Trail, about four miles of it. It's the trail you can take to cross from rim to rim if you choose. However, the mule tours must have just gone down because the trail was in piss poor condition and harder than hiking up 4 miles of canyon switchbacks is doing it with a lung-full of shit smell. So, that ended my romantic idea of doing much hiking on that trail.

Fun Fact: Grand Canyon has 10 of the 12 types of springs identified in the whole world. You can read about that here.

Red Rock Tour: Utah and Arizona (Part 2)

August 23, 2015

Cedar Breaks National Monument

On my way to Zion National Park, I turned off the main road in search of a field office for the National Forest near Zion. In general, it seems that forest rangers never know anything outside their district, but the one I talked to in the Dixie National Forest said she believed if I drove down Hwy 12, I might find it. Having no better information, I went in search of this office.

The office was closed as it was too early in the morning. I'd forgotten about "weekend hours". The concept of weekend gets blurry when you can hardly remember what day of the week it is. Instead of waiting around at the office, I happened further down the road to Cedar Breaks National Monument.

No one was at Cedar Breaks when I got there as it too has hours of operation. However, you are able to enter the area even if no one is staffing the front office and visitor center. There's a single road that goes through the monument which reaches an elevation around 10,000 feet above sea level at its peak. So, the temperature when from chilly to winter pretty fast.

There's something about the subalpine zone which I find incredibly beautiful, but I can't really say why. It's the zone just below the treeline. It's remote; the growing conditions are harsh. And, for some reason, lakes at this altitude are especially beautiful. Surrounded by this, I went for a hike.

The sign described the trail as moderately strenuous with some elevation gain/loss, so I headed back to the truck to grab my hiking poles. Ever since I started using hiking poles in 2011, when I attempted to through hike the Superior Hiking Trail, I rarely go without them when there will be elevation changes. What the sign failed to mention was that portions of the trail would be covered in leg deep snow drifts and that other portions of the trail would be completely flooded due to the spring melt.

I cracked up the first time I fell through the snow. My ankle high shoes were full of snow and I had to take them off to empty them out. Was I never going to escape winter? On several occasions I lost the trail, but I kept reminding myself that the trail was made for "tourists" and couldn't possibly be that challenging. It was funny to be hiking in snow as a couple days ago I'd been melting in the desert heat and crying for cooler temperatures.

The most challenging part of the trail was coming down a rather steep spot where the entire hillside had become a mini waterfall from the spring melt. The trail completely disappeared and there weren't very many good options for crossing the area without getting too wet. I apologized to all the alpine flowers and plants I crushed trying to make my way across.

All my troubles were rewarded as I enjoyed my breakfast overlooking the amphitheater in peace knowing that the horde was busy at the larger parks.

Fun Fact: The name Cedar Breaks is not accurate as the early people in the region misidentified the juniper for cedar. I was told that there are actually some cedar in the region, but they are small and shrubby.

Red Rock Tour: Utah and Arizona (Part 1)

August 20, 2015

Leaving Colorado behind, I retraced the route I had initially taken through Utah on my way to the Overland Expo. I was back in the arid land of red sandstone. Hot days and chilly nights were on queue for the next week. To my dismay, my time in Utah was during peak tourist season. This, combined with a large amount of rain the area received while I was there, would shape my short time in the state.

In light of the hordes of people I encountered at Arches and Zion National Parks, the rain in Vermilion Cliffs and Grand Staircase Escalante, and the hail/rain combination at Bryce National Park, I did manage to find a few memorable experiences and insights which I will tell you about. Should you choose to visit the National Parks in Utah, you can find plenty on them online as they are major tourist attractions.

Off-Roading In Utah

Of all places in the United States, southeastern Utah is the place to go off-roading because the terrain is accessible and technical at the same time. You may think vehicles and boulders are not compatible, but people take pride in their ability to rock crawl. Just about every vehicle you see has a winch, monster tires, off-road suspensions, and extra lift. If the vehicle isn't equipped for off-roading, it's probably towing an ATV, or a few ATVs along.

In the spirit of having an off-roading adventure, I decided to have one of my own. Actually, it was a moment of curiosity that turned into a six hour ordeal which I would like to never repeat while alone in the Utah desert. Thankfully, everything turned out mostly ok and I live to tell you about it.

One morning, I decided to visit Bryce National Park. The morning was overcast and by the time I entered the park, it had started to rain. It was a heavy rain replete with lightning and thunder. Trying to heed the dire warnings of not hiking along the canyon rim during a lightning storm, I decided to leave the park and find a place to camp for the night.

About 15 minutes outside the park, there was some public land with nicely graveled roads. To my delight, the roads were some of the nicest graveled roads I'd driven on in a while. It didn't take me long to find several suitable places to camp and I was about to head back to the park when I spotted a brown sign with a pair of binoculars on it. This sign generally indicates a scenic overlook, or a viewpoint, or something of the sort. Encouraged by the well groomed road, I decided I'd go check it out.

At the end of that particular road, I found a sign. This sign said there was a canyon about two miles up the road. I figured that is what the binoculars had been referring to. Two miles didn't seem too bad and I had a rough map of the area with me, so on I went.

The scenery was incredible. I was snaking along some rough roads while surrounded by forest and plateaus. It was a single track road with no wiggle room or turnouts and I wondered what would happen if someone happened to come the other way. But, there was no one else. Just me in a canyon two miles up the road.

The map said the road ahead would join the main paved road about in about five miles. Having successfully put about three challenging miles behind me, I felt confident I'd be able to cross another five miles and still make good time driving as slow and cautiously as I'd driven the first three. After all, I wanted to go back to the park in case the storm broke.

I hadn't consciously noticed the severity of the change in terrain until the truck bottomed out a few times. After a while, I stopped counting how many times I bottomed out, how many small streams I'd crossed, and how many steep inclines and descents I'd gotten over. My desire to join the main road only grew as the miles progressed.

Finally! I made it to the fork in the road which I had believed would take me to the main road. But, the road was fenced off. On second look, it turned out the road I wanted to take was only for vehicles less than 50 inches wide, essentially an ATV trail only. My excitement quickly turned to dismay, but the sun was starting to come out and I felt hopeful. I mustered up another bout of patience and energy. I had no other choice but to continue along.

Ten miles into this adventure and I encountered two elderly couples having lunch at an overlook. I stopped to ask them for directions which turned out to be a godsend because they were fairly familiar with the area and had a detailed map of the roads with them. They told me that the road I was on would eventually become a dead end and that I should return to the ATV trail with a width restriction. From there I could choose to return the way I had come or go down a different road. The women told me I should go back the way I came because it would be easier, but that they couldn't remember exactly what the conditions of the road going the other way were like.

When I came to the ATV trail, I decided to take the other road. In hindsight, I probably should have gone back the way I came, but at the time, the thought of going back the way I'd come was not an option. There was no way I was going back over the most difficult terrain I'd ever driven on up to that point. All I could hope was that the other road would be easier, and there's nothing wrong with exploring new places...I only had about eleven more miles to go.

Eleven miles doesn't sound like a long drive, and usually it isn't. However, the terrain had been such that I felt like I was cruising at any speed over 15 mph. Often, I was inching along at about 5-10 mph. To say the road was "uneven" would be a sick understatement. I spent most of my time avoiding rocks which would have gutted the underside of my old Honda Civic, praying that I wouldn't bottom out too hard because I knew I would, and over and over overcoming the panic when I ran into the next insane obstacle.

My energy was getting worn down by the constant adrenaline and stress of the situation, and part of me feared I wouldn't be able to make it out. There was no easy, no break. Everything was like a puzzle to be solved. There were several times when my patience broke and I'd do something reckless. However, those moments were brief as the reality of truck versus rock hit home extremely fast. I found the fear of damaging my vehicle beyond repair to be quite motivating to "get it together".

...Cross a ditch while turning sharply to the left on a steep incline. Make sure to hit the turn just right or the right wheel will fall into the stream running below. Make sure to make the turn with enough speed so the truck doesn't get stuck in the mud. Remember to gently apply the breaks after clearing the ditch so that the truck doesn't bottom out coming over the other side..

Then came the ditch from hell and I knew there was a high chance it would do me in. I was coming down a slope and I saw it. The ditch was in a v-shaped valley between the hill I was descending and the hill on the other side. The problem was that I could see the ditch was deeper than my wheels and too narrow to accommodate the length of the vehicle. The approach angle was to severe, I'd even jumped out of the truck to take a closer look. It was muddy and looked unstable.

On the horizon, I could see dark clouds overtaking the blue sky. I knew the rain was coming and that thought alone reminded me I needed to make haste. Rain plus Utah dirt makes for really bad mud and I'd already slid through some and could not imagine how much more trouble I'd be in if the trail completely turned to mud.

I had to try. There was no one else out there and pending rain. Fuck. I'd lowered the vehicle in the ditch only to find myself staring at the bottom of the ditch from the driver seat suspended by my seat belt like in a roller coaster. I tried rocking the car to get some traction, but nothing. The car was stuck and wouldn't move in either forward or reverse. I put the car into 4-wheel-drive low, nothing. I put the car into 4-wheel-high and I hit the gas. The wheels spun, but I could feel the car getting traction. Activating some other neat off-roading features of the truck and a bit of maneuvering, I felt the wheels get a moment of traction and hit the gas a little too hard in my excitement. The truck lurched forward so hard it bottomed out with a metal screech, but at least it was on the other side. I got out and checked the underbody, no damage.

The funniest part of the day was that a few minutes after the ordeal just described, Yin calls me (I'm not sure how I had reception for that brief moment to receive a call), but I picked up. She wanted to know how my day was going and to chat. I told her I'd call her back and that I was having a hard time.

A world of fortune must have found me that day because it started to pour just as I reached a graveled road behind an airport strip. I'd made it. It was about 4pm and I'd made it twenty miles in six hours. I called Yin back to chat. After that, I went back to Bryce and hiked around until I was assaulted by hail and decided I was done with damaging my vehicle for the day and left.

In the aftermath, I only broke the trailer light hookup. The piece was completely crushed and I had bent the metal bracket that held it in half. Toyota quoted me $350 to fix it because they don't sell the metal bracket separately. Any ideas on how to fix this for cheaper? I also learned that the higher the road number is on forest service land, the worse/more technical the road is. So, I'll be avoiding the four digit roads from now on and even the three digit ones if I can. Other than that, I am grateful things turned out as well as they did and for the friends who patiently listened to me vent about the stressful day I had.

Four Corners Expedition: Southwest Colorado

August 8, 2015

Monday morning rolled around and it was time to head out of Santa Fe. The plan was to circle back around the four corners area and see the parts of Colorado, Utah, and Arizona I'd missed on the way down to the Overland Expo. Armed with a bottle of Allsup's signature taco sauce and the book Flow-The Psychology of Optimal Experience, both gifts from Madison, I was off.

Great Sand Dunes National Park, CO

Great Sand Dunes NP is known for having the tallest sand dunes in North America. They are around 750 feet tall and pictures will never show you exactly how monstrous they are. If you like sand, you should come to this unforgettable sandbox as surely you will return home with the dunes in your clothes, car, and everything else you came into contact with during your visit. Do be careful though since the sand can reach 140 degrees Fahrenheit, which is basically hot enough to melt your feet.

As you can see, there is a lot more to the park than the dunes themselves. All in all, there are seven unique life zones in the park: alpine trundra, subalpine, montane forest, dunefield, sand sheet & grassland, salt-encrusted plain or sabkha, and stream sides & wetlands. But, most people are attracted to Medano Creek, which wraps around the dunes on the east and south sides.

Aside from getting to play in the water of Medano Creek, Medano Creek is one of the few places in the world where you can experience "surge flow". Basically, the water in the creek flows in waves like waves in the ocean. This occurs because sand accumulates in small dunes on the creek bed which serve to trap the water. Eventually, the water pressure will be great enough to burst through dune creating waves up to one foot high every 20 seconds or so. In theory, you could probably cross the creek without getting too wet if you timed it just right between surges.

The late evening brought a gusty rain and tumbleweeds flying across the road and I gingerly made my way to the Rio Grande National Forest to spend the night. I'd read about a free campground up in the mountains and thought I'd give it a try. About 8 miles up a gravel road, I arrived at what I thought had an uncanny resemblance to the opening scene in The Sound of Music. Spring had just come to the mountain tops and the trees were just starting to bud. I set up camp in an open clearing.

Mesa Verde National Park, CO

Whether or not you are interested in ancient cultures, archaeology, anthropology, or anything of the sort, and you find yourself in southwest Colorado, Mesa Verde is definitely a place to visit. Maybe you've seen pictures of the cliff dwellings you find at Mesa Verde and probably heard the term Anasazi. Maybe you've heard it's a UNESCO Heritage Site. All that is here and more.

One really neat feature of the park is that they allow you to tour several of the cliff dwellings. The only way they let you tour them is with a guided tour led by a park ranger. The cost is $4 per tour, which is seriously affordable education/entertainment/exercise, in my opinion. Make sure to read the description of the hikes before signing up since some may require you to do things like...

Of the many things I learned here and would subsequently learn at every other Ancestral Puebloan ruins, here are a few of the highlights:

No one knows why the people abandoned these dwellings. Everything about the Ancestral Puebloans is inferred from archaeological evidence and studies of how modern day Pueblo/Hopi live.
The term Anasazi (a Navajo term meaning "ancestor of our enemies") is no longer the accepted name for the people who built these dwellings. They are called the Ancestral Pueblo. The reason for this change is because Anasazi is a term outsiders used to refer to the Puebloans, and it makes no sense for modern day descendants to want to call themselves that. This is similar to foreigner terms like eskimo, sioux, chippewa, etc which aren't the original names of those people.
The Ancetral Puebloans believed that humans emerged from a hole in the earth and the sipapu (round hole in the floor of a kiva, a room used for religious rituals) symbolized that, kind of like the earth's belly button. Their origination story is actually more complex than this and is interesting to read about.
The ruins can be dated because the original logs used in their construction were perfectly preserved due to being hidden in the cliff away from the elements.

The red dot would be the sipapu, the bigger circle is a fire pit

I ended up going on the Cliff Palace and Balcony House tours and I enjoyed both very much. There is other hiking to be had at Mesa Verde, but I had to move on (there wasn't any camping in the park), you know, after looking at this view for a hot minute.

Hovenweep National Monument, CO/UT

On a whim, I diverged from my planned course to drive from Mesa Verde to Arches National Park when I saw a brown road sign saying, "Hovenweep National Monument, Next Left". It really turned out to be a right because I had initially blasted by the intersection before realizing I wanted to take that left.

In the spirit of adventure, I ended up driving some 40 odd miles down a part-paved, part-graveled road with mega defects in the road. I have since learned that I should be a little more cautious about getting lured by seemingly benign road signs, but that story later. When I finally got to the monument, I was exhausted from the adrenaline rush from playing choose-which-set-of-twenty-potholes-you'd-rather-drive-on.

Hovenweep means "deserted valley" in the Ute language. The Ute and Navajo thought the area to be haunted and stayed away. But, I, like the Mormons who happened upon the area in 1854, did not stay away. I had a nice hike around the canyon while wondering why anyone would have ever wanted to live there.

One of the most interesting things about the Ancestral Puebloan ruins is that these structures were built over the course of 70-ish years. That level of commitment is incredible because that would have spanned generations of people. To top it off, it is not believed that any form of slave labor or indentured servitude was involved! All the stones were carved by hand, expertly fitted together, and built in such a way that the ruins have lasted some 800 years.

While Mesa Verde and Hovenweep are full of well preserved ruins, I wish I'd gone to Chaco Canyon, which I heard about after I'd left the area. It turns out that Chaco Canyon is the only ruin that has evidence to show their understanding of astronomy. Next time.