A Snapshot and The Scoop: My Adventures Defined By Animals

I've developed this habit when I go on trips of associating a particular animal with each trip. Now, I don't always have an animal to go with a trip, but most of my major ones have an animal that I think about when I look back on my adventures. My desert trip with Cat in September 2014, for example, was full of ravens. My adventure in Great Smoky Mountains National Park this year was chalk full of bears. Yes, I saw four live bears, but bear figurines, designs and stuffed toys were everywhere too; I couldn't get away from bears, not that I wanted to. I've also developed a habit of putting little figurines or toys in my car, mostly to remind myself of all of my adventures but also because they're conversation pieces. When someone gets in my car and notices a little raven and a small bear perched above my rearview mirror, or a tiger and Toothless tacked down on my dashboard, they tend to ask. Not to mention the lizard, pika and hedgehog in the back window. Am I reaching hoarder-status? Yeah, probably. Do I care much? Nope. So, next time you get in my car, ask me about the stories I have regarding my collection. At least the drive won't be boring!

Leave me a comment below and let me know if you associate memories with an object or feeling. Does a certain color remind you of a trip? A design? An animal?

Time Seems Different, Somehow, Now That I Live In Texas

Mindful. I've been adventuring  for over a year now, starting January 2014 with my New Year's Resolution, and my travels have significantly increased since I moved to Texas at the end of February this year. Last year, I planned my trips carefully, staying mostly around my hometown with a few long-distance travels where I took multiple days to enjoy my time. I had a hard time thinking outside of the parameters set by my travels as a child, where any drive longer than an hour or two usually constituted at least an overnight stay, if not more. Why would I change? My "commute" to my job, at the longest, was about 15 minutes, and everything I needed around town was close and easy to get to. If I wanted to go on a trip, how many days I was gone depended on how far away my destination was. Anything longer than four hours away was at least an overnight trip, and anywhere more than twelve hours away was certainly at least a week-long excursion.

I started to change my travel habits last year, starting in February with a five hour drive (one way) to northern Nebraska in a weekend trip. Then came March, and a 15-hour driving day just for the hell of it. My next true "quick trip" was in July for my first attempt to skydive, where I spent nearly 24 of 48 total hours in the car, driving to and from my destination(s). One day in September I randomly drove three hours north to go for a hike, got bored, and drove back home. October was my short and sweet (read:AWESOME) skydiving trip, where I was gone for 48 hours total but did so much. And, of course, December found me driving 12 hours to Texas to visit Jared on a Friday night, and returning 12 hours home on Monday morning.

And then I followed Jared and moved to Texas. Things down here are a lot more spread-out, and if you have to do something, you have to drive. Our job is a thirty minute commute from home, and that's daily. Then there's our second job, which is an hour's drive from home. I would have never considered getting a job in Omaha due to the hour long commute, but out here that same amount of time is nothing to me. Maybe that has something to do with getting to work with exotic animals or something, ya know, but still.

I started traveling more frequently, determined to return to my favorite haunts, even though they are now much farther away. My favorite places in Colorado are 12-14 hours from my house now, instead of 8-10 hours like they were back in Lincoln. And I don't even blink an eye about doing that kind of driving, plus the destination itself, in three or four days. My deserts around Moab, UT are now an 18 hour drive, one way, from where I live, but that didn't stop me from driving there in July, and it won't stop me from driving there again in the future.

I've developed a formula that I adhere to regarding how far away my destination is and how long I will be away from home. I realize that this is probably borderline crazy for the amounts of time I'm willing to spend in a car, but whatever. Judge all you like: for a one day trip, I will drive to a destination that is no farther than 4 hours away. For a two day trip, a destination has to be within 8 hours from home. For a three day trip, 12 hours one way is my limit. Of course, I realize there is drive time on the way home, so during a one day trip I'll spend up to 8 total hours in the car, 16 for a two day trip, and 24 for a three day trip. These are my outter limits, and I'm not crazy enough to actually want to spend that much time in the car; I love driving, but unless my trip is the drive itself, my destinations are usually much more rewarding. The formula continues, essentially adding eight hours of driving for every day I'm away.

Just like with any rule, there are exceptions. I would happily spend two days in a place that is less than 4 hours from home, and the limits outlined above are just that: limits. If a place is 5 hours away, I generally refuse to do that trip in one day. There would be absolutely no time to do anything once I arrive at my destination, except turn around and drive back home. I've done longer trips in shorter amounts of time, and those trips are responsible for helping me realize my travel-time formula; I'd rather not rush once I arrive at my destination. Plus I like to sleep, and I know myself well enough to admit that I'll skip sleeping if it means getting to do something I enjoy while on a time crunch.

So basically, in the future if anybody ever wants to go on an adventure with me, figure out how many days we have available, and follow my formula to pick a destination within our time limits. So...where are we off to next?

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Homemade Pies and a Desert Oasis

Last September Cat and I spent a week in the deserts of Utah, and took a day trip from our base camp in Moab to visit Capitol Reef National Park. The lesser known of the five major national parks in southern Utah, Capitol Reef has amazing views and incredible hikes and drives but with way less people than places like Arches or Zion National Parks. Cat and I hiked to several small slot canyons within the park, then chose to relax among the peach and apple orchards of the historic Mormon settlement of Fruita along the banks of the Fremont River. This settlement is now run by the National Park, and offers a shady respite from the desert sun. Green grass, lots of fruit trees and abundant water bring what few people who visit the park all together, and usually attract a herd of mule deer, much to everyone's delight. Look closely at the picture above and you can see a deer's ears on the other side of the wooden fence, resting in the shade of a peach tree. The Gifford House in the valley sells park related items and doubles as a museum for the town of Fruita; they also make and sell amazing mini pies including apple, peach, cherry and rhubarb. Oh, and their wildberry ice cream cures every hiking-related ailment, ever. Of course, Cat and I settled down at a shaded picnic table on the lawn of the Gifford House and enjoyed pies and ice cream, fueling back up for another hot hike in the desert.

Leave me a comment and let me know if you thought desert oasises were just fantasies, or if you've ever been to one as awesome as this!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Ice Jams and Broken Trails

Marley and I enjoyed ourselves on a fair winter day in February 2014 while hiking in Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge near Valentine, NE. It was just the two of us on the trail, which took us down and up the forested bluffs paralleling the Niobrara River. Where the trail looped closest to the river, we found ourselves blocked by massive chunks of ice that had been shoved onto the banks. It was either turn around, or climb over the ice jam. Marley absolutely refused to get onto the ice, so in the end I picked his 75 pound butt up and carried him myself. I put him down right on the edge of the ice, made him stay and jumped down to snap this picture of the "trail." If I had known that I would be putting "trail" in quotes for many of my adventures throughout the year I probably would have reconsidered my New Year's Resolution....but I'm sure glad I didn't!!

Leave me a comment below and tell me about a "trail" that you've hiked!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Tiny Ledges and Water Monsters

Along the trail to Druid Arch, Cat and I mostly followed a dry wash along the bottom of Elephant Canyon in the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park. Near our destination, however, the trail left the bottom of the wash and climbed the steep cliffs that shaded most of our morning journey. Somewhere around 50 feet above the bottom of the canyon, the trail spit us out onto a little, teeny tiny sand and rock ledge. On one side, there was a wall of vertical sandstone a hundred feet high, while on the other there was nothing but a few shrub bushes between us and a pool of deep green water of unknown depth. I'm pretty sure the water actually cut out the sandstone directly underneath the ledge we were standing on, just like it had on the other side of the pool. Now, I've made it clear that I'm not afraid of heights, but I was a little uncomfortable on that ledge. Of course, I stopped long enough to snap a few pictures, but I can't say I was enthusiastic about having to cross that ledge on our return trip. Maybe it was because I couldn't see how deep the pool was, but I could only imagine some sort of water monster waiting to snatch any hiker who accidentally falls in. Or, you know, worrying about breaking my neck if I were to slip. 

Leave me a comment below and tell me if you would have had the courage to walk along that ledge.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: We Break For Sheep

Cat and I were about halfway through our hike in Cohab Canyon in Capitol Reef National Park in Utah when we found some shade under the ledge of a cliff and decided to take a break. We dug out our energy bars and took a seat, guzzling water and reveling in thecool rock-shade that protected us from the relentless sun. After a few minutes of sitting quietly, we were rewarded with an entire herd of desert big horn sheep peering over the lip of the canyon on the cliffs opposite us. They were clearly grazing on the sparse greenery, and showed just as much curiosity in us as we had regarding them. We watched them deftly jump along the cliff edge, and our break extended far longer than our usual rest period.

Leave me a comment below and tell me about a time you happened to be in the right place at the right time!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Badger Don't Care

Back in Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge Marley and I were driving on a dirt road across the prairie when we came across a prairie dog town. We spent a good amount of time watching them scurry around, going about their business. Marley wanted to get out and play so bad! I even put down the window for him. Just as we were turning around to go back to the hotel I caught a glimpse of something much bigger than a prairie dog: a badger was running between the burrow holes, trying to find a way in! I'd never seen a live badger in the wild, and was enthralled with how this one moved and behaved. It was surprisingly quick, but the prairie dogs were faster, always diving into their burrows at the last second, and popping up as soon as the badger turned it's back. Marley and I watched the badger for a long time before it finally gave up and headed for longer grass, where we lost sight of it. Not gonna lie, it was pretty neat!

Leave me a comment below and tell me about your first time seeing an animal and what impression it left.

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!

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?

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.

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?

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!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Cat the Bird Whisperer

This raven woke my friend Cat and I up on our very first morning in Moab, UT while we were on our week-long vacation at the desert. We had the rain fly off on our tent, so could see him sitting above our picnic shelter, talking his head off. So: Cat talked back to him. And he responded.  This exchange went back and forth for a time, before the raven got bored and flew off. Ravens became sort of the animal embodiment of our trip, and we commented every time we saw one. This one raven is why I have a small toy raven living above my rear view mirror in my car, so that every time I look at him,  I remember it's the small things that make the trip worth it.

Leave me a comment below and tell me if you associate certain animals with a place or a time.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Climbing the Ladder

Now, you probably know by now that I'm up for any sort of adventure, especially if it makes a good story. Heights, white-water, caves, fast speeds, and bad roads? Yes, yes, yes, yes and yes. I've also confessed here that I'm uncomfortable with airplanes, boats and walking on ice. Well, here's another one: ladders. I've been uncomfortable with ladders for as long as I can remember, and often will bow out of a task if there is a ladder involved. Sometimes, however, I have no choice but to climb a ladder in order to get from Point A to Point B while out on a trail, like the one time I hiked the most spectacular trail ever. And the other time there was one ladder between me and finishing the ascent to Druid Arch. I'll deal if I have to, but I have a mild panic attack while on the damn thing and only breathe once it's behind me. I don't know why I have this problem, because I'm certainly not afraid of heights. Maybe it's because of the man-made structure below me is holding my weight and I'm terrified it's going to collapse while I'm on it and I'll get seriously maimed/die. Man-made being the key difference between that and something natural, I guess. Crazy, I know, but there you go. Two pictures this time, because I need to show my relief at getting to the top! Even though I had to go back down eventually...

Leave me a comment below and tell me if you have the same fear of ladders as I do, for whatever crazy reason!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Our First Father-Daughter Trip

My dad and I have never gone on a trip alone together, so last October we hit the road for a weekend and drove around central Nebraska. We both love driving and being outdoors, so on a fairly chilly morning we drove to Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge near Valentine, NE and hiked a short distance to Fort Falls and the Niobrara River. We spent some time taking in the view, watching a couple Bald Eagles (my favorite animal) fishing in the river, before we finished our hike and left for home. It was a trip I will never forget, and I can't wait for our next one together!
Leave me a comment below and tell me about a treasured trip with one of your family members.

Ask and You Shall Receive (but it sure helps to ask the right questions): Finding Slot Canyons in Capitol Reef

Intrigued. Cat and I were halfway through our week long trip to the high desert of southern Utah, and we decided to make a day trip out at Capitol Reef National Park. Our plan for hiking included a relatively short hike through Cohab Canyon, whose trail head starts right off of the main park road. I usually make a point to talk to a park ranger before I hike on any new trail, because they can be a gold mine of information relating to the trails I want to hit. In this case, I'm extremely glad I did, because the ranger Cat and I talked to mentioned that there were several slot canyons just off of the main trail, and if we knew where to look, we would be able to get into them. With a few more questions, we were able to determine roughly where the slots were, and took our hand drawn map with us as we ascended into the canyon.

After gaining close to 400 feet in a series of steep switchbacks, we turned the corner and entered the canyon proper. We found our first of four slot canyons with ease, and slipped off of the main trail and into the significantly cooler grey stone canyon. The canyon slowly narrowed as we traveled upstream, and we soon found ourselves taking off our packs in order to slide sideways through the narrowest point. We had a bit of climbing to do before we accessed the upper part of the canyon, and once we hit the dead end, Cat and I each climbed as high as we could, to see if we could get a view over the top. Unsuccessful, we grabbed our packs and slid down the canyon, more than eager for the next slot.

Due to the drive to get to this park, we started our hike later in the morning than we probably should have, and the canyon quickly lost what shade it had, turning the whitish rocks into heat reflectors. We hiked the canyon wash, keeping our eyes open for the entrance to the next slot. Once inside, we found this side canyon was initially narrow, but opened into a wide area that clearly held a pool of water in wetter times. What a sight that would be, with a waterfall cascading into a shallow pool, and the rushing water carving the canyon just a little deeper!

The other slots held similar wonders, and we got excited every time we spotted the side canyons. Who knew what we would see? We hiked to the far edge of Cohab Canyon, and instead of descending to the road and walking back to the parking lot, we turned around and went right back through the canyon again. It's amazing how different a trail looks when you're going the other direction. You notice different things, and it's like you're walking a whole different trail. We were so happy we stopped and asked the ranger about this hike, because we would never have known about the adventures just off the trail! After a couple of shade breaks and a little more off-trail exploration, we headed down toward our car, and the fresh homemade pies and ice cream waiting for us at the little park museum.

What I'm listening to: Dragon Flight by Alexandre Desplat

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Taking in the View

Sometimes, you just gotta stop and smell the mountain air. Even if you're lost, like I was when I sat down in a boulder field while hiking at Rocky Mountain National Park in June of 2014. I had been scrambling for over an hour, trying to find the trail that I knew had to be close by. Somewhere above the treeline I stopped on a flat boulder, put my feet up, had a bite to eat and just relaxed. I knew it would do me no good to panic, so I just marveled at the mountain landscape that surrounded me. I found the trail eventually, and went on to summit the mountain. Read that story here.
Leave me a comment below and tell me how you would have handled being lost, and where you like to go to get some R&R.

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