Yosemite National Park

Big Surà San Franciscoà Georgetownà Yosemite National Park

Monday, June 11^th, 2012

On my way to San Francisco I bought a bunch of fresh strawberries at a farmstand and meandered up route 1. When I arrived, my friend was still working so I drove around looking for thrift stores to buy a fleece at, inadvertently seeing a lot of the city in the process. I met another friend of mine at a bar for happy hour and my Bostonian friend met us there. That night became a bit of a culture shock as we went and danced at a club with a guy spinning techno. I felt very much out of my element, having not been surrounded by so many people and sounds in a little while.

After a S.F brunch of crab cakes benedict, I kept driving North, but now also East to the small logging community of Georgetown, CA. My friend is researching spotted owls there. She lives in a dorm-style cabin in the middle of a logging road with about 8 other people. It takes about an hour to get anywhere you want to go around the winding backcountry roads. On Sunday we went to a falls which had three sets of steep rocks with water cascading into pools below. We slid down the slickrock into the pools. The drop and the cold water made the experience incredibly refreshing.

Today I woke up without an alarm in the nick of time to head to Yosemite. I gathered my belongings, walked out of the research station and down a winding dirt road about a mile to my car. I got into my car, drove 5 hours down more winding roads, up some mountains, and into Yosemite Valley. Seeing half dome and other cliffs in the distance gave me goosebumps when they came into view from the East. It’s as if a higher power as touched this land and made it unique specifically for my eyes to enjoy.

So I upbruptly came to a halt on my tour of this country. But the journey is long from over, it has just changed it’s pace. The route will now be repetitive and there will be four legs carrying my body instead of four wheels. I will meet more people and I will gain more friendships. I’ve found another new home, for now.

Big. Sur.

Morrow Bayà Big Surà San Francisco

Friday, May 8^th, 2012

I drove North towards Big Sur, a destination on my itinerary since day 1. I’d had some high expectations for it because I watched a National Geographic special about it. As I reached my location, I realized that there would be no actual town to be had there. The road leading through it was the only one there, bordered by mountains to the East and ocean to the West. I stopped at a gift shop which had some hiking information and I decided to climb Mt. Manuel. Peaks are important for me to summit first thing upon reach a destination in order to get a good look around the area.

I found a campsite at Pheiffer State Park. The valley that it lies within featured redwoods and I was completely in awe of their size and their ability to change the amount of sunlight allowed through their canopies.

Once at the trailhead, I was eager to get to the topmost point of land. The path was a disaster. Created as a mountainside road would be, the trail meandered along the side of the slope instead of zig-zagging up as it should. Vegetation covered the path most of the way to the point that I couldn’t see where my foot was landing in front of me. Onward I climbed, determined to summit this S-O-B. And summit I did, with a clear view of the Pacific stretching out west and more peaks to the east.

On my way down I intentionally picked each type of wildflower that I could distinguish. I was convinced that since the trail was so poorly maintained, not many people traverse it and therefore the rule of “if everyone picked a flower” did not apply to me here. I got a good bunch together and that’s all I had to show for the day. That and a few sore feet and a good buzz from this beer.

I took a walk on the coast the next day and the views were overwhelming. Succulent covered bluffs leading down to the turquoise to cobalt blue water. The shallows were dotted with large rocks being baraded by waves every other moment. I realized then that Big Sur is more of a place to behold than to utilize. I couldn’t jump into the ocean because it was too rough and cold. The wind was also a constant factor near the shoreline. I suppose the price a human pays for the beauty of this place is that it does not care whether it pleases us or not. What a useful defense it has to remain wild! I was humbled by nature as I should be.

Island Packer

Point Maguà Channel Islandsà Morrow Bay

Wednesday, June 6^th, 2012

I found a State Park called Point Magu to camp at on Monday night. I slept beneath a gigantic live oak and though I could hear the sound of waves crashing along the shore, I couldn’t see the ocean behind the cover of trees. The next morning I woke up and made my way to Ventura in order to catch a boat to Channel Islands National Park, specifically Santa Cruz Island.

I had everything I would need for 24 hours loaded on my back. It was heavy. The ferry ride took about an hour and I watched dolphins surfacing on the open water. As the island came into view, I was taken aback by the lack of human-made structures upon the land. Since the island chain is a National Park, the only buildings on it are what were left there from a sheep ranch from the later 1800’s, and an old rusting oil rig.

I hiked to the top of the islands’ peak, which was actually a former volcano rising above the plane-like plateau of yellow grass and old service roads. A dense fog blew across the rising land before me and I truged through it until I was much higher up along the ridge. I thought of turning back when I began to see the outline of the sun attempting to burn through the marine layer. So I proceeded on until, fairly suddenly, the fog dispersed and what my eyes beheld was something to humble the bitterest of cynics. To my right, sloping down the ridge where I stood were rolling hills which stretched down to the cliffs and coves of the ocean beyond. To my left, a similar sight. I was in an elated state, completely separated from the anxieties and needless worries I’d had on the mainland.

The wind picked up that night back at the campground, which was nestled in a canyon. It bent my tent poles and woke me sporadically. Once the sun had risen, a ranger “knock knocked” on outside and told me that the only boat leaving the island was do so at 12 noon due to increasing wind. I took another walk along the cliffs edge overlooking the beautiful yet daunting pacific, until I had to pack up my things and return to my semi-reality.

On the return voyage, the waves were beginning to act up. I would estimate that they were 5-10 foot swells. Apart from being a little scary, the ride was exhilarating. The boat would ride upon the swells, then surf down the longside of the waves. As I was looking out a window, in a flash a pod of 8 or so dolphns dove through a swell, exposing the entirety of their figures for a split second before being submerged into the water and disappearing once more. I yelped, but I don’t think that anyone else noticed of were otherwise unimpressed by this chance and wonderous moment.

Once back to the parking lot and my car in Ventura’s harbor, the elation I’d felt on the island didn’t cease. I was at ease as I drove North through rolling hills of yellow grass and coastline of route 1. I came to rest at a State campground in Morrow Bay. There I found a bar in town on the hazy and blustery harbor, where I sipped beer and chatted with Drew the bartender about my island adventure and the road ahead.

SoCal

San Diego

Monday, June 4^th, 2012

After my encounter with the pacific I collected my belongings along with myself and proceeded to my uncles’ house. He, his partner and I drove up from San Diego to L.A  and went to the county museum of art for the day. The collection there varied greatly and I attempted to absorb the culture like a sponge. After this outing we made our way up the hills to an observatory which sat perched atop the steep ridges overlooking the city. The location provided quite a glance at a place that I have attained such an expectation for through the media’s influence over me.

Today we all took an urban trek through the lush and uninhabited canyons of San Diego until we reached a true Italian restaurant for lunch. I was delighted to be served a salad that wasn’t butts of romaine lettuce and shreds of dried out carrots or purple cabbage. Maybe I’ve become a snob, but dining where the management truly cares about their products is incredibly refreshing to me at this point. I left San Diego in the late afternoon with a new found appreciation for the relatives that I still feel a true kinship to.

Before today, I have never seen more of the Californian coast than small portions of San Francisco and San Diego. Malibu was everything and more than I’d hoped for from imagining the coast. It reminded me of my excursion to the Italian city of Salerno, just south of Naples. The place was gritty and desperate for survival on close inspection, but breathtakingly beautiful from afar. I ate fried clam strips and onion rings at Neptune’s Net. This place reminded me of P.J’s, a walk-up order joint on the coastal area of outer Cape Cod, with indoor/outdoor seating. Endless summer indeed.

Coast to Coast

Bryce Canyon--> Joshua Tree--> San Diego

Friday, June 1st, 2012

The thickness of silence in the desert made my ears ring. After departing from Bryce I drove a whole day in order to reach Joshua Tree. I had planned on going to Death Valley, but considering that I could barely stand the heat in Las Vegas, I'm glad that I skipped it. I was also planning on swinging by the Hoover Dam, but the traffic was backed up for 10 miles leading to it, so I made a u-turn.

I really already needed a shower and to wash some clothes yesterday, but the only campground providing both of those services near Joshua Tree did not in turn provide any shade. In the 100 degree heat I was wilting, even getting slightly delirious. I decided to skip both shower and laundry and proceeded into the park both low on water and on gas. I camped out at Jumbo Rocks and realized that I might not be thinking clearly as the sun set and the air cooled.

This morning I woke up to people rustling about my tent at 3am, on some nighttime hike. I held my mace close and it took me awhile to fall back to sleep. Finally I awoke at daylight, determined to escape the desert. As I drove south through the park, I was reluctant to miss the beauty there, but also heart set on reaching the familiarity of the ocean. I drove on, through more heat freight trains on route 66 until I reached the lush hilly country of Julian, CA. At last! I felt that I head crossed into the land of milk and honey.

I didn't stop driving until I saw the pacific, and even then, as I exited my car I kept walking toward the coast dropping my backpack and towel on the sand until my toes finally met the foamy bliss of cool saltwater. I must be a water creature. There is no reason behind my discomfort of being without a water source other than that my soul simply needs it. The sky is overcast unlike how I idealized my reunion with the sea, but I don't care. I am free.

Hoodoos

Page, AZ--> Zion National Park--> Panguitch, UT--> Bryce Canyon National Park

Tuesday, May 29th-Wednesday, May 30th, 2012

Tuesday

I woke up in Page, AZ on Sunday and got the hell of there. I arrived at Zion National Park after being instructed to stop there by some fellow hikers at the Grand Canyon. Not knowing what to expect was exciting, as each turn within the park was a personal discovery. Very fortunately I acquired a campsite and got onto a shuttle bus to the Angel's Landing trailhead, a 1500 foot climb to the top of a jagged and narrow cliff in the middle of the canyon.

The ascent to the top of the peak is along a ledge in which one must grab ahold of chains secured into the rock in order to keep from plunging down into the valley. I'm glad that I did it, even though it was certainly the most terrifying hike I've ever done. 

I don't think that I feel more of a purpose than when I'm moving. Hiking or driving, I just feel more productive on the go. Is this anti-instinctual I wonder? I don't feel that I am running more than I am seeking, something more, always something else.

Yesterday I hiked into the heart of the canyon where the walls narrow and the creek touches both sides of the rock at some points. I walked for 3 hours by myself, then met up with some guys that I had met the previous day at Angel's Landing and walked back out with them.

We all got dinner together at Wildcat Willies in Springdale, UT. This was my first spontaneous meetng of new people while on the road. All good folks.

Today I woke up after a very windy pre-dawn swept across the canyon. I became increasingly annoyed as the air whipped my tent, inflating and imploding it, wacking my walls around and waking me up at regular intervals. I decided to take a day of santuary at the Blue Pines Motel in Panguitch, UT. I am watching Rocky Horror Picture Show and feeling quite disconnected from reality.

Wednesday

For the rest of the day I sat on the bed of my motel room and watched T.V, allowing my muscles to hear. During times of hunger I'd wander through town to find a diner to eat at. The day was restful but began to feel lonely, secluding myself in room alone in a town full of people, or strangers rather.

This morning I woke up and drove south to Bryce Canyon to hike for the day an camp for the rest if the night. Bryce is a beautiful ampitheater full of "hoodos", or pillar-like rock formations. Though it is dazzling to behold, the landscape was kind of one-noted. Turn a corner, see hoodoos, turn another, more hoodoos. I could have just come here for a hike but I'd aleady paid for my campsite so I am trying to make the most of it. I bought a ticket for the 7pm Rodeo at Reed's Inn, so hopefully that will lift my spirts.

(it did.)

The Grand View

Mesa Verde--> Flagstaff--> Sedona, AZ--> Grand Canyon

Saturday, May 26th, 2012

One could spend an entire lifetime gazing across the rim of the Grand Canyon and still not be able to absorb the overwhelming vastness which it possesses. I left Flagstaff early yesterday morning after visiting with my sister-in-law's family. From there I traveled to Sedona where I meandered through the curves of a red canyon until I finally arrived at the Baldwin hiking trail. From there I walked about a mile and a half to a small pool along the creek where I relaxed and eventually took a dip.

I felt the Grand Canyon calling to me, as it was expected to be the most supreme feature of this trip. Once I arrived however, no campsites were available within or even outside the park, it being memorial day weekend. I turned around without even seeing the canyon and convinced a French couple to let me set up my tent by their RV about 10 miles south of the rim in a flat, piney area.

Anxiety about being kicked out of the full campground kept me from sleeping easily, and I awoke at 4am with the first signs of dawn. Up I sprang, breaking down my site as quickly as possible. I sped back to the park in order to be sure that the first glimpse I would ever see of the Grand Canyon could be during sunrise. And come over the opposing rim it finally did, as if for the first time the sun's yellow beams crossed through space and hit the unique landscape that I'd never seen before that day. Once our sun had risen do did I, needing to find something to eat and more importantly to warm my fingers and feet which were at this point freezing.

I passed a couple male elk grazing on my way to the tourist trap McDonald's about 15 miles away from the park. I returned full of 2 egg biscuits and was ready to explore the GC. I found the Bright Angel trailhead after a short shuttle ride and began to descend. Quite an odd sensation, descending on the first leg of a hike. I promised to pace myself, and allowed for twice the amount of water and time on my way back up. Down and down I went, zig zagging through switchbacks on a trail about 7 feet wide until I reached a gentle slope half way down the canyon (about 3000 feet). On I marched, out to a place called Plateau Point. From there I could both see down to the Colorado River and up to the rim from which I descended. Never a hike like this before.

After ascending like a mule and entering the comfort of my metal horse and home, I proceeded 80 miles North to the town of Page, AZ, founded 1957, where I am in the desert just a few miles south of the dammed up river known as Lake Powell.

The desert makes me uncomfortable. I thought that I would love such a strange and foreign landscape, but instead I just feel that any human being should not settle so far away from a natural water source. The middle of nowhere seems an unfitting term, since I am in a town, but still I feel like that is exactly where I am.