A Snapshot and The Scoop: Delicate Arch

What's a trip to Arches National Park without stopping to see the arch, Delicate Arch itself? I mean, it's even featured on Utah's license plate! This particular visit to the arch was way less crowded than I expected it to be, though that may be in part due to thunderstorms in the area, and sunset was still more than an hour away. We were actually able to get photos of the arch without someone standing under it for once, with no need to get creative with camera angles! I still circled around the edge of the bowl that the arch perches on, and climbed down to the sandy bottom to get a few shots looking up at the monolith, but that was purely for pleasure. I don't think it's possible to have too many pictures! In fact, it was this arch that Jared asked me to bring him back as a gift after one trip. Like, the actual arch, not a decal or a figure of it. He wanted the arch. Becuase that's a normal thing to ask for. But hey, shout out to my wonderful, loving, goofy husband on his birthday! Happy Birthday Jared, I love you!!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Skyline Arch

A half day spent in Arches National Park didn't leave my sister and I a lot of time during our summer adventures, but we made sure to stop at a couple of arches along the way. This one, Skyline, doesn't seem to be as popular as some of the other, easier accessible arches, perhaps in part because you can't see it from the road. Still, it is only a half mile or so round trip walk to the arch over easy, sandy earth that Lisha and I refused to put real shoes on for. You can get right up to the base of the sandstone fin the arch  is carved out of, and if you're feeling adventurous you can climb fallen boulders scattered here and there in the shade. I'll be honest, as many times as I've been in the park, I've never stopped to see Skyline, so I guess that's another one I can check off my list!

Family Hikes and Trailless Deserts: The Fiery Furnace of Arches National Park

Protective. Whenever I go hiking with people who don't have a lot of experience, or otherwise might not be up to the task, I tend to get very protective of them, constantly asking if they're ok, if they're drinking water, if we need to rest, ect. This July my family and I went hiking in the Fiery Furnace section of Arches National Park in Utah and I found myself being very protective of my parents, especially my mom. We started early enough in the morning but it was still hot in the sun, and I was afraid they didn't bring enough water. I carried five liters of water on me, for a short dayhike that I knew we could finish in a few hours...What can I say, I was concerned! I know my parents have hiking experience; they're the ones who taught me to that hiking is awesome in the first place! But it's been a while since either of them has hiked over rough terrain, and I'm not sure when the last time they hiked over three miles was. Plus, my mom has a serious fear of heights. Like, more than a two foot drop and she has concerns over it.

The Fiery Furnace is a concentration of thin sandstone fins running parallel to each other, with the cracks between each fin (known as "joints") anywhere from several yards across to only a few feet wide. Oh, and there are no marked trails. After watching a safety video that explains a person should only ever walk on solid sandstone or in dry washes, which any desert hiker should know, the rangers at Arches sell you a permit for hiking alone in the Furnace, and tell you to be careful. On the day your permit is effective, you're set loose in the sandstone maze for as long as you like, or as long as it takes you to get lost and unlost again. It is an incredible place, kept as pristine as any backcountry area because they only allow a few people per day into the Furnace. You might run into other hikers, but if you do, you're likely not headed in the same direction and after a few turns, you never even hear each other again. Did I mention there are no marked trails? You can sign up for a ranger-guided trail with someone who knows the Furnace very well and will take you to places you probably won't find on your own, but doing that means you're in a group with fifteen other people, and you go at the group pace. You already know we chose to go it on our own.

That being said, it wasn't an easy hike. It started off with seeing a giant scorpion, the first time I've ever seen a live scorpion in the wild, and let me tell you right now that seeing it didn't exactly make my mom happy about being on the trail. After we got over oggling it, my sister led us to the best of her knowledge on sort of the reverse of the ranger-guided hike, taking us to hidden arches and to sandstone fins and joints that had us balancing over a drop-off and squeezing our hands and feet against the opposite wall to make it through. If I'd been alone, I would have thought it was absolutely amazing. With my parents, however, I was always watching them, looking for the easiest way to whatever destination my sister waited at. Lisha would just go on ahead, and I felt like she never stopped to think about what Dad, and especially Mom, could do, or whether Mom would have problems with the drop-offs and ledges that we crossed. My brother and I held Mom's hands on more than one occasion while we kept up a stream of encouragment as we navigated steep stone stairs chisled into a sandstone fin or walked along the edge of a cliff that dropped into a small box canyon with no way out. Every time she said she couldn't do it, that she was done and wanted to go back, we told her she could do it, to look at what she'd already done, and that we'd be there right next to her as she did tried it and succeeded.

Many times, more often than I would have if I'd been alone, we stopped in the shade for a rest and water. And you know what? That's fine. A hiking party is only as good as the least experienced, and if that means slowing down and resting a lot then so be it. Better to take it easy than to push too hard or too fast and end up with someone hurt. A hike is no fun if nobody is enjoying it.

Four miles in the gorgeous Fiery Furnace took us right around four or so hours to accomplish, especially since we hiked the last part with the sun right above us, chasing all of the cooling shade into only the most secluded parts of the Furnace. We were all hot, tired and cranky by the time we climbed up a wash and out of the fins, and eventually Alisha and Austin left Mom, Dad and I behind as they chose to climb a steeper part and we hiked up the path of least resistance. Meeting back up at the top, Mom made it clear that this was likely the last hike she'll ever go on. That makes me a little sad, but I understand. She wasn't prepared for the heat and the moderately strenuous hiking that we did, including climbing and jumping over deep cracks in the sandstone. She also has her fear of heights, which has only intensified with every year.  And yet, I'm cautiously hopefull that I can convince her to go on a short hike with me someday, if I swear to her that it will be extremely short and very easy. And you'd better believe that I'll be just as protective of her on that trip as well.

All Bad Roads Lead to Something Spectacular

Eager. To date, I have not found any evidence to refute the following theory: all bad roads lead to something spectacular. Sometimes it's just the drive itself, sometimes it's the scenery along the way, and sometimes it's the destination; I dare you to show me a bad road that doesn't have something amazing along the way. Of course, I have favorites, which I've pictured in this blog post, where I've also extensively discussed the topic of bad roads. My most recent trip, family vacation in Moab, UT, had me thinking about my theory again, and here I am obsessing over bad roads.

I love driving on the soft sand of beaches, adore the twisting, rocky tree-lined lanes in the mountains, but my heart belongs to the trails in the red rock desert, with one side overshadowed by thousand foot cliffs and the other side inches away from a breathtaking, fatal fall. There is something new around every canyon switchback, some new challenge, evidence of ancient human activity, or amazing views. You wind up the side of a canyon, following a route that doesn't seem possible but somehow is, opening up onto a plateau and a 360 degree view of the desert laid out below you. Or you meander down a tributary canyon into a boxed-in wash that could flash flood if there are thunderstorms within 60 miles of your location, adding to the thrill of the advenutre. You drive for hours, yet only travel a few miles, stopping at every chance to get out and take in the wide-open views: red rock, blue sky, and maybe a river or stream hundreds of feet below where you stand.

Your destination could be absolutely nothing, yet you haven't wasted your time. You could just be there for the road, wondering what lies around the next corner, hoping your vehicle can handle the slickrock ramps and steps. You could be headed to something amazing, like natural bridges suspended two hundred feet above the canyon bottom, that, if you're brave enough, you can walk across. Maybe the road is the scenic route between two points, and you had the option to take the short way, the path most people choose, but instead you opted for adventure and challenge and a little bit of the unknown. This is what it's like to live.

 I'll be driving my little Yaris into the ground, but soon, soon I'll get my Jeep and take these roads myself, go places that I can only dream about, unless I'm with someone who's car can handle bad roads. Going on four-wheel drive trails is something we've always done, on every family vacation, and this trip was no different. We saw parts of the Moab area that we'd never seen before, because we chose to get off the tourist-beaten path and take a little adventure. I can't wait to do it again.

What I'm listening to: The Woodland Realm by Howard Shore

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: 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.

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

Into the Frying Pan

Determined. Our first full day in the desert found Cat and I up and on the trail to Landscape Arch in Arches National Park, a little later than we had intended, but still fairly early. Before the heat of the day, anyway. The trail to the iconic arch had a fair amount of traffic on it, but our destination lay beyond the first arch. We headed farther, up the trail to Double O Arch and a couple of short side trails to smaller arches embedded in the same fin of rusty sandstone. Devil's Garden is a playground of canyons, arches, fins and monoliths that is accessed by the trail to Landscape Arch, several shorter side trails, and the Primitive Loop, a 7ish mile trail that takes you to all of the major arches while circling the Garden. Can you guess which trail Cat and I were there for? It was our first day in the desert, however, which meant our bodies had to acclimate to the dryer air, greater altitude, and lack of significant shade.

Partition Arch

Starting a hike after dawn wasn't a mistake we made again. The trail was beautiful, of course, as are all trails in the desert. We spent some time at Landscape Arch, then went on to the side trails to Navajo Arch and Partition Arch. Less well-known and a little bit out of the way, these arches are often skipped by hikers on their way to Double-O Arch. We had the trail to ourselves for the most part, and also could get right up into the arches for the obligatory arch portrait.

Cat resting in Partition Arch

We hit Double-O Arch right as it started to get hot, and crowded into the shade of a fin along with all of the other hikers that morning.

Double-O Arch

Soon after, though, we lost the crowds and turned down the less used and aptly named Primitive Loop. Winding around the garden and offering panoramic vistas and cool canyon potholes, the Devil's Garden Primitive Loop is comparable to the better known Fiery Furnace for its abundance of sandstone fins, except it has a marked trail.

And definitely isn't for someone afraid of heights. Cat and I meandered through the Garden, sticking to the shade as much as possible. The last bit of trail was brutal: exposed desert with only the occasional stunted juniper to use as relief from the sun.

Even sucking down water, we were hot and tired and a little dehydrated. The hike was worth it, but next time I'll probably give myself some time in the sun before I try a longer hike, especially now that I'm living near sea level!

What I'm listening to: The Adventure Begins by Howard Shore

I Have A Confession

Sheepish. That's how I'm feeling right now as I prepare to fess up to one of my guilty pleasures. You see, this wasn't a quick realization on my part; I wasn't even aware that I was getting so much enjoyment out of it until just the other day when I was looking back, thinking about all of the other times I have done this, and it hit me that I might have a problem. Are you ready? Here goes: I absolutely love driving on bad roads.

Schafer Road, Canyonlands National Park

You're probably thinking wtf, that's not a problem right now, so let me explain. I don' t mean roads with pot holes, or roads with little or no evidence of painted lines on them. I don't mean roads that most urban people drive day in and day out on their commutes to work. Those are streets, highways and interstates that transport people from point A to point B. And those are great and all, I wouldn't have been able to access anywhere I've traveled without them. But the roads I really love are the ones that sometimes suck to drive on. I like the little back country roads that are sometimes gravel, sometimes dirt, and sometimes other questionable material.

Indian Cave State Park, Nebraska

I love the rocky, winding, twisted mountain roads that take you in and out of evergreen forests, through alpine meadows and directly through a creek in order to cross it. I adore the sandy roads at the bottom of desert canyons that switchback so tightly that you momentarily question whether or not your vehicle will get stuck. I fawn over the roads that take you so close to the edge of a cliff that if you were to open your door and step out, your first step would be on air. The roads that have no speed limit, but it's impossible to go over 15 miles per hour, the roads with dips and ruts in them so deep they make the potholes in the city look like a dimple on a golf ball, the roads that climb such a steep incline that all you see when you look out the windshield is brilliant blue sky. Those are the roads I live for.

Headed up the La Sal Mountains in Utah

I'm sure a lot of my love for bad roads has to do with the way I was raised and where I learned how to drive. My family always took vacations to the less-visited regions of the country, and we drove to all of them. I remember going up to Merritt Reservoir in Cherry County, Nebraska most summers when I was little camping on the beach in the middle of the sandhills; I first learned how to drive on those sandy hills covered in mixed-grass prairies, with the occasional grasshopper jumping through the open window into the the cab of the truck to hitch a ride. We took four-wheel drive roads all over that area and I fondly recall grinning broadly as I peered over the steering wheel and hood of the truck toward the next big dip in the road, knowing I would feel the swoop in my stomach as we hit the bottom and flew up the next roller coaster set of hills.

Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge, Nebraska

We took vacations over spring break, heading to Big Mac in western Nebraska to see the congregation of Bald Eagles around the open water. With nobody camping on the beach during the middle of a cold Nebraska winter, we had the whole lake to ourselves, which we took advantage of by driving all over the white sand beaches. All of us drove, and through enough mishaps Dad finally learned to carry boards and shovels with us whenever we had plans to go off-roading. Nearly every family vacation we took, for as long as I can remember, found us on a jeep trail or four-wheel drive trail of some sort. Many of our best camping places are located along a road inaccessible to most cars, especially in the Rocky Mountains. How else would we have found "My Spot" or "Dad's Spot," places that have no official name but are marked precisely on our maps and lodged into our brains, places that we continuously return to even if we are headed to somewhere we've never been.

Dad's Spot, Colorado

Grand Wash, Capitol Reef National Park, Utah

I officially learned how to drive in the middle of winter, given that my birthday is in January. I had a lesson in driving on ice from my dad that I will never forget, and to this day am thankful for. Right after a big ice/snow storm one day shortly after I turned 16, Dad took me out to a parking lot on the western edge of town. It was big, empty, and covered in a sheet of ice. We entered from one side, and Dad told me to hit the gas. So I did. Then he pulled the emergency brake on me, and as we went into a spin, sliding across the ice, Dad calmly told me to get myself out of it. It took several tries, but I finally succeeded. After putting me through my paces a few more times, Dad finally let me drive home. Like I said, that lesson has stuck with me ever since.

Just outside of Arches National Park, Utah. No, I didn't tilt the camera.

I currently own a little 2008 Toyota Yaris, a two-wheel drive vehicle that is a great commuting car, gets fantastic gas mileage, handles just fine on flat roads, hills and mountains, and can go long distances without any trouble. Really, other than regular maintenance, some new tires, and one incident with the water pump, my car has had no problems, and I've put 90,000 miles on it. It handles just dandy in the rain and snow, and I've only ever been stuck once (in really deep snow.) My only gripe with it is that I can't take it where I really want to go. I've pushed my car almost to it's limits, asking it to drive up rocky, one lane mountain roads, while people in jeeps and ATVs stared at me, surely wondering what that dumbass taking a Yaris up a mountain thinks she's doing. I've driven my car through the bottoms of canyons and along sandy washes where I know, in the event of rain, we would be trapped. Just the other day after six inches of snow in town I intentionally took an alley way that was snow packed and bumpy, and grinned like an idiot the whole time. But I know my car's limits. I can't tell you how many times I've started out on a beach, or along a jeep trail, and turned back. My car can't handle some of that stuff with it's low clearance and two wheel drive capability. I'll reiterate what I've written before: I absolutely love driving, and my car is easy on the pocket book, but I need a four-wheel drive vehicle to get to the places I long to visit.

Pointing out Schafer Road on my most recent visit to Canyonlands National Park, Utah

Schafer Road, Canyonlands National Park, Utah

My next car will have to be something that can handle getting to the places I want go. I'm totally open to suggestions, so if you have a favorite vehicle that lets you get around snow, ice, sand, mountains and deserts, let me know!

Road from Grand View Point, Canyonlands National Park, Utah

What I'm listening to: Whispers (I Hear You) By: All That Remains

Scoring that Perfect Picture

Focused. We were on a mission to reach Delicate Arch, Arches National Park's most famous arch, in record time. Cat and I had just arrived in Moab, UT after a 13 hour drive across Nebraska and Colorado, and the first thing we did was enter the park and drive straight to the arch. It was nearly sunset, and we wanted to get to the arch before the sun went down (along with more than one hundred other people). We hadn't even gone to our campsite first, which meant we would be setting up our tent in the dark. Instead, we fought the crowds for a parking place and hightailed it to the trail head, practically running along the crushed sandstone path. We were forced to slow down as we reached the exposed sandstone ramp that makes the three mile round trip trail work for it's classification as "strenuous".

No sun, still stunning!

A quarter-mile of exposed, sloping slickrock sandstone, no shade, no flat area, no stairs, no water. A sign at the beginning of the trail encourages hikers to drink at least a gallon of water a day, and to carry at least a couple of liters if they want to attempt the hike. And that's at the beginning of the trail. Then you wend your way through the dips and crests of the desert, edging along cliffs with nothing to stop you if you fall, following the carins that mark the path to the arch. Assuming you make the ascent, you round a curve of orange sandstone, and then you see it: a free standing arch on the edge of a gigantic bowl, both of which make you instantly feel small and insignificant.

A fraction of the people who come to see Delicate Arch at sunset

Cat and I searched for a place to sit and take pictures of the arch glowing in the sunset among the other sunset enthusiasts willing to make the trek up. We found a spot high on the edge of the bowl, and tried to be out of the way. After setting up our cameras we were disappointed to realize that there was absolutely no way we would be able to get a picture of the arch without some random person standing in the middle of it, having their own picture taken under the dome. Still, we took our pictures and dealt with the crowds, then headed down with the sky still glowing sky blue-pink. Bats flitted overhead, drawn out of their slumbers by the promise of the mosquitoes that made a meal out of us. We left the park, enthusiastic for our week-long stay in the desert.

Not an easy trail, but worth every step

Fast forward to four days after we arrived in Moab, and we were at it again, this time arriving at Delicate Arch with plenty of time to spare, determined to get there ahead of the crowds and maybe, maybe be rewarded with a person-free picture. Also? I wanted a picture of the moon. We hiked more slowly on our second trip up, but still moved faster than most of the people also making their way to the arch. There were far too many human beings on the trail for my taste, but I like solitude and quiet. Especially quiet. That being said, our second attempt was more successful. We arrived early enough to claim a spot closer to the arch, with less people in the way. We both set up our cameras and waited, taking pictures occasionally as we chatted with our neighbors on either side of us. Then it happened: for one second, there was nobody in the arch!

Delicate Arch

I, along with every other person in the vicinity, started clicking away madly, desperate for that elusive shot of the most iconic arch in the park. I was beyond ecstatic; I have been to that arch on four other occasions, but have never been rewarded with that picture.  Cat and I both packed up our cameras, grabbed our bags, then headed down and around the arch while the sun was still in the sky, this time aiming for the bottom of the sandstone bowl at the base of the arch. We had both been eyeing it the first time we were there, and noticed that nobody ever made the journey to the bottom. Figuring we might get a unique perspective on the arch, we climbed down and ambled around the sandy bottom and lower lip of the bowl. We took picture after picture, and discovered that because we were so low, and there was a little bit of a crest toward the top of the bowl, if we positioned ourselves just right we could get a view of the arch that didn't have a person in it, even while people stood under the arch like they usually did. AND the moon was rising right next to the arch, that was glowing a fierce orange in the setting sun. Bonus!

Setting sun, orange arch, rising moon. Perfection.

We took our fill of pictures and views, and when the sun finally bid farewell to the arch we clambered out of the depression to access the trail. On a whim, we climbed on the cliff ledge behind the arch, where most people (especially those afraid of heights) don't go. The sun had set but there was still color in the sky, and with the arch silhouetted against it I couldn't resist but to lay down and take a picture underneath the arch. It's the little things.

"Behind" Delicate Arch

What I'm listening to: Comin' in Hot by Hollywood Undead

2014 New Year's Resolution Wrap-up

Joy! I actually accomplished my New Year's Resolution, decided in the middle of a cold winter when my cabin fever seemed like it would crush me. I set out to explore my state and surrounding country once a month, to drive and drive and drive to my heart's content. Sometimes I went alone, more often I had a companion or two along for the ride. Following is an overview of all of my 16 different road trips over the past year, along with the statistics of my vacations that probably only I find interesting.

A homestead house in Homestead National Monument

January: Homestead National Monument in Beatrice, NE. A couple of friends and I spent hours exploring this little monument tucked in the southeast corner of the state. It was a beautiful January day, warm enough for long sleeves and jeans. We even got to hike a bit in the prairie.

Megan and I getting ready to ski

 February: Two trips this month, the first was skiing at Mount Crescent, IA. Can you believe there is skiing in the Midwest? It's nothing like the slopes of the Rockies, but the Loess Hills along the Missouri River do the best they can! My friend Megan and I spent half the day on the slope, and once we had taken the refresher course on how to ski (and stop) we got on the lift and had a blast! It was a cold and snowy day, and it was perfect.

Marley on the beach at Merritt Reservoir

My second trip in February was a weekend trip to Valentine, NE and Merritt Reservoir. I have always loved Bald Eagles, and in the winter months they congregate around open water so they can continue to eat. The reservoir rarely freezes over entirely, so it's a magnet for eagles. Marley and I got up early in the morning on a Saturday, drove the five hours to the reservoir and were not disappointed! SO MANY EAGLES! We enjoyed ourselves driving around the lake and walking on the frozen beach, then checked into our hotel and took a nap. After we were refreshed we headed to Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge and took a trail along the Niobrara river to Fort Falls, and also enjoyed the entertainment provided by a prairie dog town taunting a badger along a prairie backroad. We also got to see Smith Falls, the highest waterfall in Nebraska. Sunday met us with a Sandhills blizzard, and it was slow going and nerve-racking as we tried to get south of the storm. Once we did, it was clear sailing on the way home.

Overlooking the Missouri River at Ponca State Park

March: Myself and a friend, Torrey, spent a marathon Sunday driving around the northeast Nebraska on a self-guided tour of the historical sites in that part of the the state. We were gone for 15 hours, visited several state parks including Niobrara State Park and Ponca State Park, and many more historical sites and markers. We were treated to several Bald Eagle sightings, and enjoyed a hike along the Niobrara River bluffs. It was a beautiful, clear winter day, and we made the most of it.

Marley sitting pretty at Spring Hollow, Indian Cave State Park

April: First camping trip of the year! Megan and I took Marley with us to Indian Cave State Park, NE. We were some of the few out camping that weekend, mostly because there was a severe storm in the forecast. It held out on us, though, until we finished our hike the next morning. We were lightly rained on the last ten minutes or so, but once we reached my car the sky opened up with a vengeance. Can't tell you how happy we were to have finished our hike just in time! Not so happy about the dozen or so ticks we picked up along the way, but whatever. Worth it.

Marley and Panda playing with a "stick" in a creek at Castlewood State Park

May: Marley and I took our first road trip out of state was to go visit a friend, Cat (and her dog Panda), near St. Louis, MO. Over Memorial Day weekend we hiked in Castlewood State Park, went zip-lining and had a cave tour at Meramec Caverns, visited Cahokia Mounds State Historical Site in Illinois, went to the St. Louis Zoo, and admired a sculpture garden. BUSY weekend! It was fabulous.

Moraine Park in Rocky Mountain National Park

June: My solo trip to Rocky Mountain National Park, CO. I've written about one of the hikes I did in a previous post, but I have a couple of more stories to tell still! It was a four day weekend accomplished at my own pace, with plenty of time to think, get to know myself and my comfort levels, and do whatever I damn well pleased without consulting anybody else. Note to self: I should do something like that more often.

July: Could have been a major disappointment, but luckily I try to look on the bright side of things and make the best out of any situation. After a white water rafting trip had to be cancelled due to my health, I was instead able to go with my boyfriend, Jared, while he went home over that weekend, and I was introduced to his parents. It was a fun weekend, filled with getting to know each other and plenty of picking on Jared. Adventure, indeed!

I also made another trip to see Cat, and we were supposed to go skydiving, but had to cancel due to severe weather. I for one do not want to jump out of a plane and be struck by lightning! Instead we went shopping, watched movies, and also went back to Castlewood State Park. It was a short and sweet weekend, even if it wasn't what I went for. (I was bad, I didn't take ANY pictures of my travels in July-I just didn't have it in me).

The view from Pike's Peak

August: This trip was kind of just thrown together and done on a whim. I ran away with Torrey to Pike's Peak, CO! Her dad ran the marathon up and down Pike's Peak, and Torrey and I went along to cheer him on. It was just for a weekend, but we managed to get in some sight-seeing, shopping, checked out the Peak, Garden of the Gods, and also went to Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument. Got in a couple of easy hikes and plenty of driving through the mountains! Next time I go back I am so doing the Manitou Incline. Think wooden stairs, straight up the side of a mountain, 2000 feet of elevation gain in less than a mile. Count me in.

Grand View Point, Canyonlands National Park

September: My longest and one of my top trips of the year, Cat and I spent a week hiking roughly 60 miles in the deserts and canyon country around Moab, UT. It was wonderful, it was magical, it was both strenuous and relaxing, it was amazing, and I'm already thinking about when and how I can go back. The red rocks of the desert capture my heart in a way that no where else has ever been able to do, except maybe the snow-capped peaks of the Rockies. I have many stories about my vacation there, some of which I have already written posts about here, here, here, and here. Trust me, there are plenty more to come.

Marley and Callie on the trail at Ponca State Park

My second trip of the month was a day trip to Ponca State Park, NE. I took Marley and Jared's dog, Callie, with me to go hiking in the wooded bluffs along the Missouri River. It was a short trip, but it was good for both the dogs and myself! I was missing the desert, and needed to get outside again. Mission accomplished.

Nothing like those Sandhills skies

October: Two trips this month as well. My daddy and I took a weekend to visit the Sandhills in north central Nebraska on a quest to photograph the state historical markers along the way. We made it as far north as Valentine, got a motel room, then were up at dawn to continue our quest. We got something like 56 or so markers, plus plenty of sightseeing. The Sandhills are always fun to drive through, and the prairies and open blue skies make one think of pioneer days, and of the ranching that is the current lifeblood of the area. Dad and I visited Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge and we retraced my steps in February. I'm glad we finally had some father-daughter time. We've never taken a trip together like that, and I'm thankful to my daddy for instilling the love of travel, adventure, exploration and driving into me.

That's right. That's me! And the parachute is pink, even!

My second trip of October I've already written about in my first post: Skydiving!! Once again I visited Cat, and we made the trip to Paxton, IL to test our luck and jump out of a plane. It was an incredible experience, and I seriously want to become a licensed jumper. There is nothing in the world like the feeling of being in free fall.

Callie snuggled in my mummy sleeping bag. Why? Because she fit. Kinda.

November: Last camping trip of the year, and it was kind of a disaster. My sister, Alisha, and I took Marley and Callie to Indian Cave State Park. We had the whole campground to ourselves, we got in late, and from the get-go I made so many mistakes it was like I had never camped before. I always go through my travel list before any trip, yet I neglected to do so on this final camping expedition. As a result, we forgot stupid things that shouldn't have been an issue. I also *accidentally* ran over my sister's air mattress.. I still owe her a new one. Ahhh.. good memories. We checked out the park's namesake, but left fairly early once we decided we had already pushed the limits of our luck. We visited some family in the area, and headed home less than 24 hours after we set out.

BIG kitty at the tiger refuge!

December: My last trip of the year was also one of my favorites. I went to visit Jared in Tyler, TX, where he moved to in November for a job working with big cats. I had a three day weekend, so Marley and I loaded up and headed south to where it was warm, humid, and actually awesome. I have a bit of a prejudice against Texas, but pushed it aside and enjoyed my stay. I got a tour of Jared's work, and we also visited the Tyler zoo. Callie and Marley were so happy to see each other! It was also fantastic to see Jared after a month apart. I can't wait to visit again, especially now that it is 30 degrees and threatening snow as I type this.

Snow in June at Rocky Mountain National Park. For reference, I'm 5'5".

Now, my New Year's Resolution by the numbers:

13,241 miles driving my car, with a couple of thousand more miles in someone else's car. So, somewhere around 15,000 miles spent in a car just on my road trips.

Roughly 35 days spent traveling. I kept better records in the last half of the year, but I don't know my exact timing because I didn't keep perfect track for the first few months. But I can safely say I spent over one total month traveling throughout the year.

I had 10 companions with me on my trips, and they either actually rode in the car with me, or I was going to visit them. Also, 5 furry companions!

I hiked around 105 miles. I wish this number was multiplied by about 5, but sometimes life just doesn't let you do what you want. 

I spent 12 nights in a tent, and 16 nights in either a hotel or someone's home. Shout out to everybody who let me stay with them, and also to the people who let me borrow their tent when mine just wouldn't cut it. 

I visited 9 states, 6 national parks/monuments, and countless state parks. The parks system is one of the best programs out there, conserving irreplaceable natural beauty, historically important sites, and preserving our past culture for our future ones. Anybody who says otherwise must live under a rock. 

And finally, I spent well over $3000 on my trips. Again, I didn't keep perfect records at the beginning, but I can safely say I spent a minimum of $3000. Probably closer to $4000. Worth. Every. Single. Penny.

Touching stingrays at the St. Louis Zoo

I would like to point out here that I am not privileged or special. The only trip my parents paid for was the one I took with Daddy, and that was because he wouldn't let me pay. I work a full time job with forty hours of paid vacation and forty hours of sick leave. I work a part time job that takes up one or two Sundays a month. I pick up pet/house-sitting jobs whenever possible. I work my ass off to be able to afford my travels. I have had a shitty year in terms of loss, having lost both my great grandmother AND my last remaining grandparent in general, an amazing woman I am lucky enough to call Grandma. I have been diagnosed with a major illness that is likely to be with me for the rest of my life, autoimmune hepatitis, which gives me fevers, fatigue that makes me want to sleep endlessly, and attacks my joints to the point where I have trouble getting up off of the floor and has turned my grip to shit. On bad days I'm lucky if I can move my wrists, and when this first started I could hardly walk. This illness is the reason I didn't hike nearly as much as I wanted to this year, and also why I had to cancel my white water rafting trip-I probably would have fallen out of the boat and drowned because I  wouldn't have been able to hold on. I have pushed my limits, probably more than I should have, but I pushed anyway and found that I surpassed even my own expectations. But I knew when to stop, when I couldn't possibly do any more or else risk serious injury.

Sunset is the best time to visit Delicate Arch in Arches National Park.

I don't write this asking for pity. I'm actually saying there are no excuses when it comes to doing what you want to do. Traveling has become my passion, and I made it a priority. If one thing wouldn't work, I found something that would. I intentionally scheduled trips around weekends and holidays, knowing it would give me extra days without having to take off of work. I made every single hour of paid vacation count, even though I lost all of my sick leave and a few hours of vacation to my illness when I was out of work for a week due to doctor's orders. That was in July. I still had half a year of traveling to go! If you want to travel, you'll make the time. I made it work even with so many factors against me. I am already planning another couple of trips for 2015, and I can't wait to be on the road again.

What I'm listening to: Drive It Like You Stole It by The Glitch Mob