A Snapshot and The Scoop: Potholes Galore

The destination of a relatively short and easy hike at the end of a spectacular dirt road through a dry wash in Capitol Reef National Park is a series of potholes in the sandstone. Now, just said like that everyone's like: who cares, it's a pothole. Let me explain. These potholes collect and hold precious water after the infrequent rain showers that roll over the area. They are the lifeblood of the animals that call the desert home. This series of potholes had multitudes of life in them, from tiny insect larvae to full grown water beetles and dragonflies, there were the tadpoles of spadefoot toads, and there were even tiny silver fish! These animals are able to exist because of potholes, but they are also trapped in their little oasis, unable to leave until the next rare rain brings enough water to overflow the pothole. Those little buggers have an extremely quick life cycle, and most are able to go dormant until the pool fills again. Getting to see this phenomena in person was awesome, and well worth baking in the desert sun to get there!

Leave me a comment below and tell me about a time you've witnessed something as cool as this on your own travels or in your backyard!

Hydraulics, Adrenaline and A Little Bit of Blood: White-Water Rafting Brown's Canyon National Monument

Thrilled. Water hovering around 48 degrees swirled around our legs as we trailed our fingers along the outter tube of our raft, walking out to our seats on a 14 foot piece of plastic, rope and air that was going to keep us from drowning for the next several hours. Megan and I were finally going white-water rafting, more than a year after we first planned our trip. Due to my sickness last summer, and my inability to hold anything (like a paddle) tight enough to not drop it, our white-water adventure was postponed. Then I moved to Texas, and wasn't sure if Megan and I would ever get to go. My life has a way of working itself out, though, and before we knew it Megan and I were meeting at our campground in Buena Vista, Colorado for our adventure after all! It was a perfect mountain day, and we really couldn't have planned our trip any better. We headed to River Runners, just outside of Buena Vista, and got checked in and outfitted in our life jackets and helmets. After the initial welcome/safety lecture, we trudged into the freezing water and climbed onto the raft. Megan and I shared a boat with a couple from Houston, TX, and our guide, a local named Sam. Sam pushed us off the beach, the current caught us, and we were gently tugged downstream. We had a very chill couple of miles, chatting, getting to know each other and swapping stories. You definitely need to be comfortable with the people who are going with you on a serious adrenaline rush, especially when one of their mistakes could cause the raft to flip, throwing all of you into a Class IV rapid.

Rapids are classified by their difficulty, and the commercially runable rapids are Class I-V, with I being baby ripples and maybe getting splashed and Class V being small waterfalls and major hydraulics, where you'll definitely want a pro with you. Our selection for the day was mostly Class IVs, some Class IIIs, and some downtime in between. It took us a while to hit our first significant rapid, but we used that time to watch the newly designated Brown's Canyon National Monument slip past us as we floated down the gorgeous Arkansas River. The Buena Vista area has nearly everything I need, and if I hadn't moved to Texas this year I would have moved to that valley. As it is, I'll go back as often as I can swing it! I'm also super excited about Brown's Canyon finally being designated a National Monument; I've rafted that canyon several times before, and it is something seriously special. I'm glad that it will be preserved for everyone else to enjoy as well!

Our first rapid was a Class III, and it only got better from there. Sam was a very chill guide, mostly letting the current take us where it would, and only calling out paddle instructions when we had to hit a rapid just right, or risk flipping. The first time he let the river take us right up to a boulder, only to whip us around it at the last second before we rammed into it. He gently chastized us, as we had lifted our paddles and braced for the bump we were sure was coming, telling us we had no trust and then laughing about it. After that, I trusted him completely. Sure, I'm a person who needs to be in control, but there was something about drifting on the current, usually sideways, that was incredibly relaxing. Of course, he warned us ahead of time whenever a big rapid was coming up about needing to run it correctly, and getting set up well in advance for it. At one point, the biggest rapid of the day, we even got out of our raft and walked downstream along the bank, allowing Sam to scout our route and even getting to watch other rafters run the rapid. For me, watching "The Toilet Bowl" made me anxious. It was a giant hydraulic, where the current runs over a huge boulder, creating a depression behind the rock, which then forces the water to curl back on itself in a wave. If you get caught in a big enough hydraulic, the cycling water will flip your boat, then you're likely shoved down to the bottom of the river, and held there. We watched several other rafts just like ours get tossed around as they ran the rapid, a couple nearly high-siding and losing the rafters. Even though everybody made it through on the raft, I wasn't exactly confident. I was anxious. I'm pretty sure I even said "holy shit" out loud. Several times. Then we were trekking back to our raft, and psyching ourselves up to run it. We shoved off the bank, as were immediatly swept toward the big boulder. All four of us, plus Sam in the back, paddled with everything we had, getting our raft right on course, catching the side of the hydraulic, getting soaked but not pulled into the hole. Before we knew it, we were on the other side, watching another raft come through right behind us, almost flipping but saving themselves and powering through just like us. I don't know about anybody else, but adrenaline and elation coursed through me and I couldn't wait to go again.

I got my wish, as we hit another rapid nearly as big right before we stopped for lunch. After drying out a little bit and chowing down, we hopped back in the rafts, hit another rapid, then pulled over again to go cliff jumping. About 10-12 feet above the water, we lined up and took turns jumping off a big rock jutting out over the river. I was last in line, not sure that I wanted to willingly jump into that freezing water. I watched the girl in front of me, someone from a different raft, waver back and forth. I stepped up and offered to hold her hand and jump with her, promising we'd go together. I counted down from five, and on one, we both launched ourselves into the air and plummeted down into the dark, icy water below us. We popped up at the same time and grinned at each other as we swam to the bank, and everybody clapping for us. Just before I reached the bank, another girl stopped me and told me I was bleeding. I slapped my hand to my face and it came away bloody: my freaking nose was bleeding. Again. I used to have problems with bloody noses when I was younger, and then it stopped. Shortly after moving to Texas, I've been getting nose bleeds at least once a week, if not more. It's disgusting and embarrassing, and there I was, soaking wet, shivering, and bleeding from my face in front of a bunch of strangers (and Meg.) I found a rock and sat in the river, pinching my nose and trying to wash the blood off of my face. I have no idea what I looked like, but I'm sure it wasn't pretty. Megan came to check on me, and then Sam, and then everybody was watching me, and I was holding everybody up. Ugh. Finally, after a million years, my nose stopped bleeding and I was able to clean up and get back on the raft. I was very cautious after that, thinking that maybe the impact of the cold water set me off, and therefore avoided getting splashed in the face as much as I could.

After cliff jumping, the day was pretty calm with only a couple more rapids and a lot of floating. It was nice to just sit back and relax, taking in the sun and the water, chatting as we saw fit or just sitting in silence. I know I was tired, and I'm sure everybody else was too. In all, we rafted 17 miles of the Arkansas River, finally pulling the rafts at Big Bend, and waited for our bus to take us back to reality, and a long, hot shower.

What I'm listening to: Old Friends by Howard Shore

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Spelunking in the Desert

Cat and I had finally reached The Joints on our Chesler Park/Joint Loop hike in the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, and spent over an hour exploring the area. We found a few places where the sandstone had weathered into small caves, and of course we went into them all. This cave was the deepest, and slowly got narrower as it delved into the stone. As soon as we reached the point where we could no longer go any farther, we took turns taking pictures, and headed out. It was only after we were out in the sunlight that Cat decided to bring up a certain movie where big, bad, scary creatures come up from a cave just like the one we were in. I sure am happy she waited to tell me something like that until we were back out in the sun. I'm a giant baby when it comes to scary stuff! No thank you, not for me!

Leave me a comment below and tell me whether you've ever been in a cave and suddenly had every horror movie known to man pop into your head. Am I alone in the world?

The Ugly Side of Traveling

Respected. It's hard not to feel like people value your advice and opinion when they come to you with questions about traveling. I've spent a lot of time traveling for the last 18 months, despite some major obstacles and changes in my personal life. Traveling has become what I do, and is a major part of who I am. Whenever I introduce myself to a someone my end of the conversation usually goes something like "hi, I'm Natasha, and traveling is what I do." You get the point. I don't know how many times I have explained to people when they exclaim about how much I'm away from home that traveling is me. I live and breathe adventures. I love my boyfriend and our collection of furry kids. I love my job. I love the process that led me to leave my home and my job in Nebraska and move to Texas. It's the best decision I've ever made. All of those factors combined to allow me to travel more than I ever thought possible, and I'm only 24 years old. I've been to 11 states in the last year and a half, and have plans to go to even more as this year progresses. Adventuring is my thing.

Perhaps because of how much I toot my own horn about my travels, people seem to think that my adventures are all sunshine and rainbows. Just take a look at every story I've ever posted on this blog.

Guys, I love my traveling and I wouldn't give it up even if you paid me to stay home, but sometimes being on the road is difficult. Nobody, not even someone who loves to tell travel stories, likes to talk about the shitty parts of being away from home. Just to set the record straight, I'm not complaining here. You'll never hear me say that I don't want to travel anymore because of any of the following items; they're just inconviences that I accept, deal with, and move on. Also, if you're easily grossed out, stop reading now. You're about to get TMI.

Are you ready to hear the ugly side of traveling?

By now, you all know I prefer to tent camp. Sure, a camper, hotel or someone's house is great, but I love to rough it in the Great Outdoors. Unfortunately, that means giving up certain luxuries. Like a shower. Sometimes there is a dirty, nasty shower available at a campground I happen to stay at, and sometimes there's not. Sometimes the showers are actually pretty nice, and I'm just lazy/exhausted/sunburned/whatever. But there have been many times that I'll go a day or two of getting covered in dirt and sweating through my clothes while hiking, and I'll skip a shower. Sometimes, it's more than just two days. I usually don't give a damn. I'm not likely to go anywhere indoors or highly public, because that's not how I roll, and therefore don't care too much about sweating and the resulting BO. And deodorant? Ha, if it hasn't sweated off by noon I'm doing something wrong. I usually apply it to prevent chaffing anyway. Oh, and you know that hat I love to wear? Sometimes it's to keep the sun off of my head and face. Sometimes it's there to hide greasy hair that hasn't been washed in four days.

Closely related to personal hygiene are my traveling clothes. Yeah, it's not uncommon for me to wear the same clothes multiple days in a row. Even after sweating in them. I'd just rather not carry the extra bulk and weight. Again, it doesn't really bother me unless I happen to sit in a patch of cactus quills, or somehow rub up against poison ivy or something, then I'll change. I'll usually change after a couple of days, but I've been known to go longer.

Now, like I said, traveling a lot forces you to give up luxuries. Toilets are something I've learned to not be too picky about. Is it a somewhat sanitary place for me to do my business? Great, outta my way. I'm not crazy, of course I prefer flush toilets, but port-a-potties are just a normal part of my camping experience, and sometimes, even those don't exist. Trust me, when you gotta go, finding a nice bush or rock to bare your rear to will do just as well as any toilet with a golden lid. Oh, and being of the female gender, well...you can't exactly aim well. There is an art to squat peeing, but even the pros don't alway get it right. That's what sanitizer gel is for, and in the absence of that, you dry. Big deal.

Hiking as much as I do entails certain discomforts, and muscle cramps and soreness are fairly common. Anybody who's hung out with me for any length of time has seen me in one of my many braces for each joint in my body, the most common being knees and wrists. Hiking is a physical activity, and it can be hard on my knees when I have to climb up and down hills, mountains or canyons. There have been times when I've be sore for three days after a difficult hike. And the blisters, oh the blisters. My feet get hot and sweaty, they slide around in my boots during my climbs, and boom: blister. Usually on the backs of my heels, sometimes on the outside of my toes. Let me tell you, blisters on day one make day two through day whatever rather difficult.

Let's talk about driving. I've made it perfectly clear that I love driving. But even sitting in a car for long periods of time has it's drawbacks. For someone like me, who already deals with joint problems, sitting in a car for hours at a time usually yields locked-up hips and stiff knees. Throw in some very bad drivers on the road who don't look to their blind spot before they merge into your lane, or try to pass you on a narrow, winding mountain road and nearly run you off of it and down the mountain side can make anybody ready to get off the road and out of the car.

And then there are the campsites themselves. Most places I've stayed at are amazing. I love finding neat little camping places with amazing views, and I also love organized campgrounds for their efficiency and ease of use. Then, every once in a while, I'll find a really shitty place to camp. Usually it's a campground that looks good from the front, but once you get into it you discover a run-down shit show, and then it's too late to back out without losing your money. Sometimes it's getting toward dusk and you just need a place to sleep and you tell yourself you don't care but then you end up actually wanting to pee behind a bush instead of using their disgusting bathroom. And showering? Yeah, no.

Last, but certainly not least, I miss Jared when I travel. Like, a lot. I won't get all gushy with you, but I mostly miss his presence, just knowing that he's in the same room or area as me. Of course, we both live and work together, so we're near each other often, which makes being away very different. I know it's temporary and it's my choice to go on my travels; yes, I could stay home and not have to miss him, but I also firmly believe I need me-time, too. Me-time just makes me miss Jared a little. I like to check in when I can, to let him know what I did that day and make sure he knows I'm still alive, but a lot of my travels take me to places where cell service is non-existant, and a phone call is out of the question. So, I deal. On that note, I miss my dogs like crazy, too. Especially when I see someone else out on the trail or in the campground with their own dogs. Yeah, I could bring them with me, but I know for a fact that they couldn't keep up with the type of hiking I prefer to do, and Marley couldn't handle the heat. And I'm crazy over-protective about things like snakes, hot surfaces, thorns, ect. Plus the places I like to go typically don't allow dogs on the trails anyway. So I go without my family, miss them a lot while I'm gone, and have them as the major reason that I come back home after every trip.

I'm sure there are other ugly reasons traveling can suck, but these are the highlights. Or rather, lowlights. Next time I tell you a travel story, remember this post and realize that I share my favorite parts, and skim over the less glamorous details of my latest adventure. I'll save you the gory details.

What I'm listening to: Centering, Cleansing by Lifescapes

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Seeing Double

Cat and I were exhausted after spending the hottest part of our first day in the desert hiking, but we still took the time to drive around Arches National Park and see whatever we could from the road. We got out once, at the short trail to Double Arch, and walked the short, flat, sandy distance to the enormous arches. The entire area crawled with tourists climbing around under the arches, and neither Cat nor I felt like dealing with multitudes of human beings. We got close enough to take pictures of us and the arches, but stopped short of actually going under them. We just didn't want to fight people for a spot under the arch. We had other destinations on our agenda that the majority of people never get to experience (those stories here, here, here, here and here.)

Leave me a comment below and tell me about a place that you've visited that just had too many people.

Volcanoes in New Mexico!?

Impulsive. Just across the Texas-New Mexico border, I started seeing mounds of dark rock rising up from the surrounding grasslands. I was about ten hours into a fourteen hour drive from my home in east Texas to Buena Vista, Colorado for a white water rafting trip with Megan. I'll write about that adventure in a week or two, but before I even arrived in Colorado I had a mini side adventure in New Mexico. Like I said, I had been driving and driving, stopped for the night and a few hour's sleep, then drove some more. I had (finally) crossed into New Mexico when I noticed the mounds, and they became more pronounced the farther northwest I drove. Eventually, I pinpointed what they looked like, rising up out of the prairie without a mountain range close by: volcanoes. And I was pretty sure the big one I was staring at and driving directly towards was a shield volcano, with it's broad, gently sloping sides. Easily the largest formation around, it kind of draws your eye.

Soon enough, I started noticing the more severe cinder-and-spatter cone volcanoes with their steep slopes capped by caulderas. Just outside the town of Capulin, NM I saw a sign for Capulin Volcano National Monument. I'm pretty sure I said "What the hell, why not?" out loud, and turned down the monument road. After my customary stop at the visitor's center I wound my little car around the flank of the volcano, circling up toward the rim. There were times where I couldn't see anything out my passenger window except open air and land far, far below. I love roads like that!!!

Once at the dead-end parking lot, I got out and marveled at the view. On one side, there was an ancient volcanic field laid out in front of me for miles. You could even see the Rocky Mountains from way up there! On the other side, the rim of the volcano rose up away from the parkinng lot, with a trail appearing here and there among the rocks. There was also a trail to the bottom of the crater of the volcano, and the volcanic vent that marked the center of the crater. I hiked the steep trail to the vent first, following behind a trio of high school graduates out on their first big adventure (I know because I asked-small talk, ya know?)

Leaving them at the bottom of the crater, I climbed back up and started around the rim trail. Capulin and the surrounding volcanic field is long dead, the product of shifting tectonic plates that have since settled down in that area. From up on the rim, you can see for miles in all directions, and get a sense of how the area would have looked when the volcanoes were active. Everywhere you look you could spot the dark volcanic rock, Cinder-and-spatter cone volcanoes, several shield volcanoes, rippled earth where the magma had once flowed hot under the ground, and is now hardened and proping up the covering soil and grass.

In all, my little side trip only took about an hour of my time, but it was well worth it. I had visited that National Monument with my family when we first started taking yearly two-week vacations every summer, but honestly had forgotten about it until I saw it again. It was neat to revisit and see things through adult eyes, especially on my own. Soon after arriving I got back in my car, thoroughly enjoyed the drive back down the volcano, and headed on my way to Buena Vista. I do have to say once again, it's the little things that make the journey!

What I'm listening to: The Medallion Calls by Hans Zimmer

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Getting Right Into The Middle Of It

Last year, on a mild winter day back in Nebraska, I found myself driving around Valentine, NE with Marley, on the hunt for a good story and an awesome view. We took a little side road with a sign promising a view of the Niobrara River and the valley the river carved for itself. Driving a short distance down a dirt road, we turned a corner and suddenly found ourselves in the middle of a herd of bison. I had had my windows down because my dog likes to be a dog and stick his head out, but when I realized what I had driven in to I slowly rolled them up. The last thing I wanted was Mar to suddenly bark and start a panic within the herd. We drove forward slowly, inching past the moms with newly born calves and waiting patiently for the herd to move off of the road in front of us. Finally, the road cleared and we drove on to a spectacular view of the river and the sandhills of  north central Nebraska.

Leave me a comment below and tell me about a time you've found yourself in an unexpected place, and how did you deal with it?

The Amazing Healing Springs of Chickasaw

Spontaneous. When you plan out and control every aspect of a trip like I do, any sort of deviation from the itenerary is at once tremendously exciting and excruciatingly stressful. I managed to let go of my control-freak self on a recent weekend camping trip, and just rolled with whatever plan change came my way. The trip started out abnormally enough for me: one of my best friends called me up on a weekend, explained how she needed a break from life, and asked me to meet her for a camping trip. We set the trip for the following weekend, which was three days before I was headed up to Colorado for a trip that had been booked in March (more on that adventure coming soon!) Throughout that work-week, plans changed for Julia and I several times, and ultimately resulted in me heading out to go camping at Chickasaw National Recreation Area in Oklahoma on my own. I had been driving for about an hour and a half before I pulled over on the side of the road and very nearly decided to change my direction of travel and go somewhere else for the weekend, but eventually decided to continue with the original plan at Chickasaw. Not even an hour later, Julia called me and exclaimed that she would be able to join me after all, and that she'd see me at the campground the following morning! Damn, I was happy I stuck with Plan A, and didn't go galavanting off to some other random destination! I arrived at Chickasaw just before dark, and had my tent up and ready in no time (I LOVE my REI Quarter Dome 2!!!) After joining a Ranger Talk just after dark, I retired to my tent and found myself a little too giddy to sleep. I was on a (somewhat) spontaneous camping trip, four hours away from home, AND Julia was going to be able to spend the weekend with me! Yay for being flexible!! 

Crystal clear Travertine Creek

Saturday morning I was up way too early, and sat around camp. I even walked around the campground, looking for water and firewood and something to do. I definitely had a difficult time sitting still, and eventually resolved to take out my book and get my nerd on (learning geology...) Maybe I just need to learn to  chill out a bit more, and be ok with things not going "as usual" on my trips, but by the time it was light out, I was used to already being on the road or the trail. Sitting and reading, while relaxing, isn't my usual style while I'm out camping. Honestly, it's not really my style anywhere in my life at the moment. I used to sit and read a good book all the time, but I've kept myself so busy with life and travels that I rarely sit and read anymore. I think I need to change that...

Anyway, I sat and read my geology textbook while I waited for Julia, and that's where she found me when she rolled up to the campsite.  I quickly threw my book into my car, and we set off to explore the gorgeous park. After a quick trip to the visitor's center where I found my magnet and patches (I have a problem with my collections, guys..) we finally hit the trail! We ambled along a nice, easy and level trail along a cute little creek. Our destination was a couple of fresh-water springs located about a mile away from the visitor's center, and I was surprised that we see much foot traffic on such a short, easy trail. Especially on a Saturday morning, before the Oklahoma humidity became a problem. Not that I'm complaining; I've made it inescapably clear that I dislike crowds. The first spring, Buffalo Springs, was amazing. Back during the Great Depression the government employed people and had them lay bricks around each spring in the park, to be able to help it's citizens during a difficult time. Each spring had unique masonry surrounding it that perfectly highlighted it's characteristics; for Buffalo Springs, the bricks perfectly encircled the clear, cold spring, and had an outlet for it's bubbling waters to form that would become Travertine Creek. After exploring a little side loop that took us up into a mixed prairie-forest ecosystem, Julia and I continued on toward Antelope Spring, the only fresh water spring safe enough to drink straight out of, and also the only one left in it's natural state. We were amazed at the force with which the water burst out from under a rocky outcropping, and quickly scrambled above the spring in order to dip a water bottle into it's chilly waters. We took our time at that spring, unwilling to leave the mesmerizing pulse of water gushing to the surface. 

Buffalo Springs

Eventually, we headed back toward the visitor's center, and after a quick lunch went to explore Travertine Island in Travertine Creek. We crisscrossed that small island multiple times, searching for a way to leave it without having to actually get in the creek itself. Unsuccessful, and after battling hordes of people enjoying the cool waters on a hot June day, we left the island and drove to a different area of the park. We found ourselves a deserted hiking trail along a different creek, and set off in the direction away from the part of the trail blocked off with red tape (closed due to flooding.) We didn't have to hike very far before we hit Pavillion Spring, a small mineral spring that smelled strongly of sulphur encased in an open-air pavillion, also built during the Great Depression. Each mineral spring in the area was once advertised as having healing powers, and drew large crowds of people seeking a cure for whatever troubled them. Honestly, the springs still draw people looking for an elusive cure, but Julia and I were there for the beauty and the excitement of discovering something new for ourselves. Also, to get away from life for a day or two. We continued up the trail and found Hillside Spring, which was my favorite of the mineral springs. The way they laid the bricks to showcase this spring's character was spot-on, and I made us stay at the spring until the sun was just in the right position to get myself a decent picture.

 

Hillside Spring

Once satisfied, we turned around and hiked back to the car, eager to explore the rest of the park. We drove all of the roads in the vicinity of the springs, but had been warned that the lake portion of the park was completely flooded, and that we'd be lucky to get close to it. We decided to save the lake for another trip, and drove the northern part of the park, looking for bison and good views. Stopping at a little flower park at the entrance to Chickasaw, Julia and I found ourselves thrown into a freaking fairy tale. There was a brick bridge over the creek that looked like it belonged to a castle hidden in the woods. It seriously even had turrents. I kept expecting a white horse with an armor clad knight to go galloping over it. It was amazing! After my (our?) princess fantasies, we decided to go for a swim at the spring-fed creek, despite the chilly water and crowds of people with the same idea. Around dusk, we headed back to camp and invited a couple of our camping neighbors over for a campfire and s'mores. We were up pretty late chatting, and once we finally turned in for the night my head hit the pillow and I was dead to the world.

So, where's the knight in shining armor?? Or the troll. I would be happy with either.

The next morning found us up early but being lazy about actually getting up and breaking camp. I don't think either of us really wanted to leave. After going on a quest to photograph every waterfall early in the morning without any people present, we sat around and drank our coffee slowly, discussing future plans and life back home. Eventually we came to the conclusion that we really should be going, and brought the tent down and packed with easy efficiency. We said our goodbyes, and not even 10 minutes after I hit the road South did it start raining. And didn't stop. I drove an hour south, only to find out that the very road I had driven over on Friday night, the one that crosses a lake on an earthen dam and a long bridge, had flooded over during the night and was impassable by anything except boats. So I backtracked, and took the interstate south, then cut back over to my road home. Come to find out later that the interstate suffered damage during a rockslide the day I was driving home, and part of the road was closed indefinitely. Even for a spontaneous trip, Julia and I couldn't have planned it any better than we did. We had perfect weather, even if I had to extend my trip home from four hours to six hours, and we had a fantastic time at Chickasaw. I can't speak for Julia, but I definitely felt rejuvinated after spending some time at the springs. Maybe it was the waters, or maybe it was good company and a short break from life. And being willing to let go and just roll with the waters.

Antelope Spring

What I'm listening to: Drink Up Me Hearties by Hans Zimmer

A Snapshot and The Scoop: That One Time I Touched A Stingray

Over a long weekend in St. Louis Cat and I went to the city zoo and were two of the first in line to kneel around a little pool and TOUCH STINGRAYS! There were also little bamboo sharks in the pool, but they never came close to us. Cat and I spent a long time there, waiting with our hands in the water as the rays circled the pool. Everything there was small and harmless, but still, the experience was awesome. Now I want to go to the ocean and see rays in the wild!

Leave me a comment below and tell me about a time you got to touch an animal that you never thought you would!