A Snapshot and The Scoop: Bubble Bursts

It was cold and windy in Rocky Mountain National Park on this January morning, and my friend Megan and I were headed up for a full day of hiking. The sun hadn't come up over the mountains yet so the road through the forest was dark and full of curves and switchbacks. It was fun! We arrived at a point on the road where we could actually see over the tops of the trees below us, and I couldn't help myself. I stopped the car right in the middle of the road, got out, and started shooting photos of this cloud. We had the entire road to ourselves, and we hadn't seen anybody since we left town before dawn to get to the park. After I was satisfied (and cold) we jumped back in the car and continued on our way to hike.
Leave a comment below and tell me if you've ever stopped the car/bike/camper in the middle of a (hopefully empty) road because you just had to take a picture. And post the picture!

Flying High and Walking Down Under

 

Energetic. It was my first trip to visit Cat near St. Louis, MO, and I had an entire three days to explore the area. One of the many destinations we squeezed into our weekend was a stop at Meramec Caverns, a commercial cave southwest of the city. It was a damp day, with rain showers interspersed with dry periods where nothing really dried out. So, you know, perfect for going underground. Upon arrival neither of us could help but notice the cables strung over the Meramec River and through the forest on either bank; telltale signs of a zipline course. As I recall, there wasn't even a discussion about whether we were going to fly through the trees, and the only question we asked each other was if we were going before or after the cave tour. We decided to zipline before the tour, and in no time at all we had zoomed through the training/safety talk and were climbing the tower to the first line.

Now, I've got no problem with heights, but even I have to admit that as I looked over the edge of the tower and knew that all I had to do was pick my feet up and I'd be dangling over the river below on a thin piece of cable, attached only by a fabric harness and a carabiner, I got butterflies. So, naturally, I went first. And promptly fell in love. Oh! To fly over the little people in the parking lot, cross the rushing river, and head toward the wall of forest, gliding along and feeling almost weightless. For my first time on a zipline course, it was amazing. We glided through the trees and a rain shower, finally crossing our longest line back across the river. I seriously wanted to go again.

With the adrenaline rush of flying through the trees still coursing through us, we descended into the earth for our cave tour. I love caves, and take every opportunity to experience a tour. I get nearly the same information every time I take a tour, the standard stalactite/stalagmite, flowstone, deceivingly deep and clear pools, and, of course, the brief experience with total darkness and the optical tricks of the human brain. That doesn't detract from the awe and wonder I feel every time I see a formation created solely by water and minerals, something that looks like it belongs in a fantasy fairy land.

No cave I've ever entered has been the same, and that keeps me itching to go find yet another wonderland to explore. Cat and I had a fantastic tour, hanging out at the back of the group to allow for more time to take a hundred pictures. We emerged from the cave nearly as damp as when we entered it, and couldn't wait to see what else our weekend had in store for us.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Big Prairies and Big Skies

In October my dad and I took a father-daughter trip through part of Nebraska for a weekend in search of Historical Markers. We drove all over north-central Nebraska, and stopped somewhere just south of Valentine at a historical marker. The windmill, rolling sandhills and big blue sky remind me of home, and make me miss it just a little bit. I can't wait to be back there in May for another trip, this time with my sister in tow!

How Do I Put This Into Words? The Place My Heart Calls "Home"

Awed. There is nothing else anybody can possibly feel when they are standing at the brink of a thousand foot cliff with absolutely nothing between you and a very long fall. Canyonlands National Park in southeastern Utah is my heart's home, and I have trouble putting my thoughts and feelings and yearning into words; I don't know if I can even describe what this place means to me. I'm usually pretty damn good at telling stories about my travels, but I have deliberately put this blog post off because I don't know how to describe my desert in a way that will make anybody understand the way I feel and think about this place. Why I have a fierce, burning desire the color of entrada sandstone at dusk to be there. Why I feel like I'm home in a state that I've never lived in, surrounded by one of the most inhospitable regions in the United States. How do I tell people why I got a tattoo of a lizard to represent my desert in a way that won't come off as a little psychotic?

It's not just one thing that speaks to me when I'm out there. It's the combination of all of the elements of a desert that astounds me, and keeps me coming back for more like desert sage soaking up moisture after a summer thunderstorm. It's the fiery orange and blindingly white sandstone and the purple shadows at dawn and dusk. It's the sage, the junipers, the cacti and the little hidden wildflowers. It's the ravens and the desert bighorn sheep, the spade foot toads and the coyotes. Not only the physical presences in the desert, but the lack thereof. I've described many times how I prefer solitude to crowds of people; in my desert, I achieve that elusive condition necessary for my sanity. How can I resist the beckon of a place that meets my desires?

I must also confess that I'm drawn to the challenges presented by the desert. Sure, there's the obvious lack of available water, but one can't forget the hiking, mountain biking, jeep trails, scrambling, and rock climbing provided by such an incredible place. If you don't think hiking or scrambling in the desert can be challenging, you obviously haven't read anything I've written before in this blog. There is something about testing your strength and stamina and resources and will power against a completely unforgiving environment. And when you come out on top? Bliss.

The last time I visited my desert, Cat and I were on a week-long hiatus from life. We spent every single day up by dawn (and sometimes long before the first hint of dawn) and returned to the tent well after sunset. We spent all but one evening among the rocks, watching as they flamed brightly, then dimmed into purple silhouettes with the dying day. Twice we hiked to Delicate Arch, on a mission to capture the essence of Arches National Park, along with a hundred other people. Three times we drove to the Island in the Sky District of Canyonlands National Park, savoring the long, winding highway up the plateau and across the grassy washes to the very edge of the world, where the earth fell away at our feet and there was nothing to stop us from launching ourselves into the deep shadows left by the retreating light. We arrived too late on two nights, and were there only to watch the sun cast her last sky painting of the day, and observe the canyons falling into silent darkness. The third attempt we arrived early, on the coattails of a booming thunderstorm that left the scent of rain on the air and a rainbow in the sky over the canyons. We set up our cameras, kicked off our shoes, and stretched out, six inches away from one thousand feet of thin air. It was a perfect evening, and I think both of us hoped it would last forever. The sun set slowly, and the mood of the canyons changed constantly. I have a hundred pictures of that moment, and at first glance they all look exactly the same. But then you notice that this canyon here was lit, then it filled with a lavender haze, then finally succumbed to shadows. Then that one over there did the same. And the district across the river, the one we had hiked that very day, looked like flickering candles on a birthday cake, until they were blown out by the setting sun.

Are you beginning to understand the power that my desert holds over me? Every. single. thing. calls to some part of who I am. I love the challenge, I love the adventure, the solitude, the delicate balance of life that water brings, the destructive force that heat can wrought, that water can carve, and the innate peacefulness that I feel when I am there.

The name of my blog is directly related to my desert. The Kokopelli is an ancient southwestern Indian deity, usually depicted as a hunch backed flute player. Kokopelli is a prankster, a healer, a musician, a storyteller and a traveler. Kokopelli is responsible for the changing of winter into spring and for the fertility that accompanies the changing seasons. While in the desert, I bought a little toy raven that now lives on my rear view mirror in my car. Guess what it's name is.

The raven is Kokopelli. The bear is Hallett, named after the mountain I will climb in Rocky Mountain National Park, CO

Now, due to my decision to move even farther away from my heart's home, it is unlikely that I'll get to visit my desert any time this year, but I have every intention of going back as soon as possible in 2016. As in, beginning of January. I don't even care if it's the middle of a high-desert winter. Just means less people, right? Until then, I have photos and memories of my favorite place on the planet, and can look forward to the day that I get to go home.

What I'm listening to: Skytoucher by The Glitch Mob

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Snow Slide!

On the same day that I got lost while trying to summit Flattop Mountain I met up with a group of people who had also gotten lost.We stuck together from just before the summit, all the way back to the trail head and civilization. On our way down, having successfully navigated almost to the edge of the snowline we came across a drift that was taller than any of us, and there was only one way from the top down to the solid-packed trail. We took turns taking off our packs, tucking our trekking poles into our laps and sitting on our butts to slide down the side of the drift. It was so fun, a few of us scrambled back up to the top to do it again! Giggling like children, we left the area and headed out of the forest with wet butts and quite a story.
Leave a comment below and tell me about any impromptu playtime you had while on an adventure.

The Madness Within: Random Musings of a Solo Hiker

Willful. I just spent my weekend camping in the southwestern reaches of the Ouchita Mountains in Oklahoma, at McGee Creek State Park and Natural Scenic Area. Alone. I've never hiked in an area that required day hikers to have a permit for use, but once I got on the poorly maintained and hardly marked trails, it became clear why a permit was necessary. It let the rangers know who to go look for at the end of the day, because there was a fair chance of getting disoriented. I think I spoke to all of three people while I was out there, and only saw about a dozen other human beings. It was fantastic, but after a while it became apparent that I was in need of some normal human conversation, because my thoughts were pretty weird. For anyone who's ever wondered what I "do" while hiking by myself, here's a (small) sampling of what I was thinking while hiking 16.4 miles through the wild forests and canyons around the McGee Creek area:

This is a pretty trail. And kinda flat...I'm sure that won't last long.

Oooh, a stream crossing! With "conveniently" placed rocks to hop across.

That was fun!

Wow, if I keep up this pace I'll be done in no time!

First trail junction; pick the right trail so I won't get lost. Got it.

So this trail is less maintained than the one I just left. Figures.

I want a Reese's Blizzard.

Watch out for the thorns!

I have pulled so many spider webs off of me that it must be some sort of record.

Oooh, pretty flowers!

And another turn, time to hike down into the canyon. And back up again, eventually...

Damn, I need to slow down or I'm going to roll an ankle..again..

Huh, I've hiked that far already? Sweet.

I have never seen so much pollen in my life. I'm actually pretty sure I've never seen pollen before. It's the exact same color as the laces and lining of my boots. I wonder if Keen did that on purpose? They probably did. It's really a pretty color of greenish yellow, henceforth known as "pollen green". Holy cow, I am covered in pollen! I've got to take a picture... my legs are green! This is insane! I'm shocked I don't have allergy problems...

That's going to suck  hiking back up.

Finally, my destination! But I can't see much of the lake... maybe this side trail takes me to an overlook?

Uh, nope. Not doing it. I've got enough hiking up steep hills without going up this one.

I'll just sit here and rest, eat a bit and drink a lot. Then head out.

Ok, stupid fly, you're starting to piss me off.

LEAVE ME ALONE!

Ugh why do I like doing this crap? Too many bugs.

I seriously want a Reese's Blizzard right about now.

Holy crap, I'm back at the top already? That's got to be a personal best!

Back at the junction. Time for a rest.

Let's see, I can hike 3 miles back and be done in an hour and a half or so....or I can take this roundabout way and add another few miles. And hours. What time did I put down on my permit that I'd be back? I can make it by then. What the hell, let's push it!

So, where's the trail? Oh, right, the stupid little faded spray painted dots on the trees that no one can see.

I probably should have put this route as a possibility on my permit... I'm going to get lost and nobody will know where to look for me..

Well, as long as I don't get lost on this unmaintained trail, I won't regret taking the long way back...

Wow, I'm at the border already? Well at least now I can follow the fence and not get lost.

Ok, forget that. Why does the map show a straight trail along the fence when it clearly ISN'T???

I've got a nice cold Reese's Blizzard waiting for me once I get back into Texas. Pretty sure there's a DQ right across the border..

I shouldn't have left my sunglasses in the car. I thought it was supposed to be cloudy all day.

I'm going to be attacked and eaten by a mountain lion out here and nobody will ever know....

Hey, turkeys!

I wonder if I'll see any wild hogs. There are plenty of hoof prints. Or are those deer? I have no clue.

ANOTHER stream crossing??? How the hell am I supposed to get across this one? There's a log, maybe I can walk across it.

Oh shit, ok, that's a big snake. (I think I actually said that out loud.) And of course it's right on the log I want to cross.

Fuck, and it can swim. Even better.

What kind of snakes are out here that are big and black and can swim?? Oh god, is this in cottonmouth range? It's probably a cotton mouth. Screw pumas, I'm going to be bitten by a snake and die and they'll find me out here because I don't have a snakebite kit. Guess what I'm buying as soon as I get home.

Ok, calm down, it was probably just a big racer. Painful bites, but not venomous. Still would suck.

Wow, it got hot! Not expecting that.

Blizzard.....

Um, I have to hike up that?????!!!!

I'm going to die.

Ok, you've got this. You  have 20 minutes to make it to the top. And go.

................................................................

Ok.......so......freaking.......tired.........And I officially want this hike to be over.

But hey, that only took me 10 minutes! And now I get to hike downhill!

And another freaking stream crossing. I'm seriously tired of these.

Up we go again...

...................................................

...........................Reese's...............

..............Blizzard.............................................

..........................................................

Fuck! Another snake???!!! I'm flipping lucky it saw me, because I didn't see it till I almost stepped on it! Damn that was a big one.

I kinda want to see a rattlesnake. Not super close, though.

Well, now that I have to sit and stretch after rolling my damn ankle for the 10th time, I might as well enjoy some water and food.

My pack keeps getting lighter and lighter. I hope I brought enough water...I wasn't planning on going the extra six miles today....

Another down, another stream, another up, another down, another stream, another up, another down, another stream another up another down another stream another up another.....

........................................................................

At least I'll sleep well tonight.

I did get a lot of sleep last night though, for being in a new tent and sleeping in a bag and being in an empty campground. I wonder if that nice ranger ever came to check on me? (See Mom, people look out for each other!)

What time did I go to bed? It was still light out. I think maybe 7:30? God I'm lame. But not many people can say they slept 12 whole hours out in the woods. I don't think I moved all night.

I really want a Reese's Blizzard..

I hope Jared knows how awesome of a girlfriend he has.

And for that matter, I hope my parents know how awesome of a daughter they have.

It's their fault for making me love this kind of stuff in the first place.

So I have them to blame for the sunburn and bug bites and blister I have forming on the back of my heel...

Why did I decide to do this?

Is this trail ever going to end?

Wait, why does it look like there is a trail that way? The map doesn't show anything...

This map is useless.

You have got to be FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!! Another stream? More like a frickin' canyon.
(Insert a whole lot of swearing out loud to myself)

Maybe that's why the trail went the other way back there..

Yep. This must be the way across the stream.

Uhhhh....Seriously? I always knew these stupid streams would be the end for me. Good lord, I'm going to have to try to find another way across.

Ouch...those are thorns.

And so are those.

Damn it! (More loud cursing)

There is literally no other way across this damn stream.

So, what, I'm supposed to jump onto that log in the middle, and assuming I make it there, I have to jump from a log to the other bank. You've got to be joking.

Screw this.

Ok, so either I make two jumps or I take off my shoes and socks and wade across it.

I really don't want to get in that water. What if there are snakes?? I have at least two miles left to hike...

Ok, here goes nothing!

Holy shit I made it to the log.

And the fucking log moves. Seriously??!!!! I'm going to fall off and it won't matter.

Ok, ok, ok, one big leap and  you're golden.

HOLY FREAKING COW I MADE IT!!! HOW THE HELL DID I MAKE IT?????

Glad that's over!

I am going to be so sore tomorrow....

Pretty sure I pulled something in my knee. If I stop and rest I'm never going to get started again. I've got a three hour drive home, I'll rest in the car.

Why did I decide to hike 16 plus miles?

I am so freaking tired of streams and mud puddles.

I miss my desert.

Wow, my second to last trail junction! Only 1.4 miles to go!

How the hell do I have the energy to move this quickly again?

Only 0.4 miles!!!

Omg, omg, omg I see the trail head!

SWEET! I made it!! 16.4 miles!!! Mind over body, that's for sure!!! Yay!!!!!!

Ok, that was awesome. When can I go again????

What I'm listening to: The Darkest Hour by Howard Shore

A Snapshot and The Scoop: When the Trail Disappears...

For what felt like the gazillionth time on my trip to Rocky Mountain National Park in June, 2014 I once again found myself in a situation where I couldn't hike any farther. This time, it was due to the fact that the baby Colorado River had flooded it's banks and completely washed away the trail. I seriously considered doing some wading, just to see how far I could go, but as I was by myself I thought the better of it and just turned around.
Leave a comment below and tell me if you've ever hiked somewhere only to have to turn around due to unforeseen circumstances before you reached your destination.

Elephants and Druids in the Desert?! Oh, Wait...

Ambitious. You have to be if you want to accomplish a long day hike in the desert before it gets dangerously hot. Cat and I were on our last day in the desert around Moab, UT, and we were up at 3:30am for the second morning in a row. The day before we had hiked Chesler Park and the Joint Loop Trail in the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, and our last hike of the trip was also in that district. Which meant waking up at a ridiculous hour to start our hike before sunrise. We did much better this time around, moving faster than we had for the entire week. The trail was relatively flat, though always gaining a little elevation as we followed a dry wash up Elephant Canyon to Druid Arch.

The sun just starting to light up the Needles.

We kept finding little pools and potholes with water still in them, which absolutely teemed with life. Tiny little spade foot toad tadpoles raced to become adults before their pool dried up in the arid desert. A lot of them already had legs, though still had shrinking tails attached. There was only ever one way we could go up the wash, so we were able to spread out occasionally and take in the view. Starting before dawn meant most of our canyon was shadowed through the entire 5.4 miles to Druid Arch, and with the sun hitting the orange and and white sandstone above us we were enveloped in purplish shadows and glowing cliffs. No wide open views, but the colors were incredible!

Purple shadows and fiery cliffs. I love my desert.

The last quarter mile or so to Druid Arch is what earns this hike a "strenuous" rating: hugging a sheer sandstone cliff while walking on a thin lip of protruding, crumbling rock over a deep green pool of unknown depth; clambering up a rusting ladder bolted into the sandstone as the only way out of a choke point of stone; scrambling up a somewhat unstable rockfall on a poorly marked "trail" that might as well not exist. But once you crest that rockfall and take a turn on the trail, everything is worth it. Druid Arch towers over you, hundreds of feet tall and lit brilliantly white by the mid-morning sun. Cat and I made it to the arch three hours after we started our hike, and took a well-deserved break once there. We climbed around, sat and ate, got up to the arch and backed into the shade again. After three quarters of an hour, we decided to take our leave and head back before the canyon became an oven in the afternoon sun. The walk back was easier, though the scramble down the rockfall and the climb down the ladder killed my knees. We weren't quick enough to keep in the shade for the whole hike, but we were able to find some relief under a boulder or outcropping if we needed it.

Cat climbs a dry fall on the way to Druid Arch. Imagine it full of water!

We hiked quickly, even though we didn't really want to leave the wild desert. Once again, we didn't see a single person on our hike until we were close to the trail head. There is something about being alone in the wilderness, whether desert, mountains, forest or prairies, that just draws me in. I crave it. To rely on yourself, on your feet and your body and your head. Physical endurance, mental stamina. It's definitely not for everyone. But it's certainly for me. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I need to travel, to hike, to be outdoors, and camp, and be alone in order to be happy. I think, moving down here to Texas, I'll have more opportunities to get out and camp. I've already got several trips planned, and more in the works.

On the way out of the Elephant Canyon/Elephant Hill area

Cat and I finished our last hike in the desert six and a half hours after we started, and I spent the rest of the day relaxing and dreaming about the next time the longing becomes unbearable, at which point I'll find myself driving towards the rusty red cliffs of my desert.

Elephant Canyon, view from above the floor of the wash

What I'm listening to: In The Night Of Wilderness by Blackmill

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Dinner for One

Over the last year I have developed atrocious eating habits while on the road, especially if I'm by myself, with my diet usually consisting of energy bars, jerky, trail mix, coffee and copious amounts of water. I made this is packet containing chicken, potatoes and vegetables and cooked directly on the
fire on my first night camping in Estes Park, Colorado last June, and it still remains one of only a handful of attempts at making a hot meal while on an adventure. I'm usually either lazy or just too
damn tired to put the effort into cooking after a long day of driving or hiking.
Leave a comment below and tell me what you eat while on a trip, and leave a suggestion for me (something easy, please!)