A Snapshot and The Scoop: Lakeside Beach, An East Coast Epic Story

The final Great Lake I visited last summer was Lake Ontario, and I'm honestly a little disappointed I didn't get to touch it. I made a point to walk a bit in both Lake Michigan and Lake Erie, but the little state park I stopped at in New York, Lakeside Beach State Park, was situated on some cliffs above the lake, and it was impractical (at least from where I was standing) to try to get down to touch the water. Instead, I meandered along the edge of the cliffs, accidentally interrupting a group playing disc golf (which I thought was rather brave - what if you threw the disc off the cliff by accident??) as I wandered. I could see where the lake deepened, where the waves turned from murky brown to the deepest of blues, and watched a few boaters take on the choppy, windy waters. Next time I'm in the area I'll be visiting the remaining two Great Lakes, Superior and Huron, and I'll be sure to step foot in Lake Ontario, just to say I did.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Presque Isle, An East Coast Epic Story

My solo East Coast adventure last year took me to three of the five Great Lakes - Lake Michigan, Lake Erie, and Lake Ontario. My stop on Lake Erie was at Presque Isle State Park, a little spit of land featuring a gorgeous drive, bays and beaches, and an old lighthouse with its own courtyard. I arrived after closing time so was unable to tour the lighthouse, but greatly enjoyed my drive around the peninsula, making sure to get out a couple times to wet my toes in the lake and enjoy the breeze. I saw people boating, paddle boarding, kayaking, and swimming, which of course made me wish I'd brought my swimsuit along so I could go for a dip without ruining one of the few changes of clothes I had with me. There's always next time!

A Snapshot and the Scoop: "Action!"

This may look like an ancient ruin, but it was actually part of a movie set built in 1965 for "The Professionals." Recognized for it's incredibly geologic formations, many movies and commercials are filmed within the Valley of Fire State Park boundaries, which has caused park rangers to have to carefully manage who gets permits to film so that no lasting environmental impacts are made. I won't lie here, I rarely watch movies and have not seen any of the ones filmed in the park, but just the physical reminder that things like this exist is pretty neat!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Reminders of the Past

Built by the CCC during the Great Depression, three cabins sit against a stone cliff overlooking the part of Valley of Fire State Park. The cabins are made from the same sandstone that's found in the rest of the park, and at first glance it's easy to miss them, which is sort of the point. Used by campers and travelers for years, the cabins now stand as empty reminders of what the CCC accomplished throughout the park, the state of Nevada, and the rest of the country as citizens struggled during the depression.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Shooting Wildife

I had so much fun spotting and following this herd of Desert Bighorn Sheep during my visit to Valley of Fire State Park. Myself and another pair of guys followed the herd by car at first, then when they got closer we pulled over and pulled out our cameras, planting ourselves on the side of the road and watching them graze, wander, and head-butt for a good twenty or so minutes. Although it was bright and sunny out, the wind was blustery and by the time the herd moved off down the valley I was shivering, teeth chattering as I bid the other photographers goodbye. It's always fun to get good shots of animals doing what they naturally do - from the safety of a proper distance and a zoom lens.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Mouse's Tank

In the desert, little shaded pockets of sandstone, usually located in the bottom of canyons, that are filled with perennial water are called "tanks". These tanks are life-saving resources for desert animals and humans alike, such as the Southern Paiute Indian this particular tank located in Valley of Fire State Park in Nevada is named after. "Little Mouse" was a fugitive accused of killing two prospectors, and used this water source while hiding from the law in the late 1800s. Though he was eventually caught and killed, Little Mouse survived for far longer than anyone would have thought in this dry desert, all because he found this tank of water. Today, desert-dwelling animals such as lizards, snakes, mice, and big horn sheep use this water source and others like it to survive where there are no rivers or lakes, and where rain is scarce.

Running The Rose: My First Race

Able. This all began with a stupid deal, made in a fit of irritability and pique directed at the low-hanging clouds and the drizzling white mist swirling around us, soaking through our clothes and shoes as we traversed the final miles of the Buffalo River Trail in northern Arkansas. I don't even remember most of the conversation - or lack thereof - other than at one point I burst out that if we managed to finish the trail by noon I would run a race. Torrey, one of those crazy people who run ultra-marathons for fun, immediately shot back that it would have to be at least a half-marathon, and it would have to be on a trail, not a road. Still wet, cold, and irritable, I agreed. When we finished that trail with four minutes to spare I wasn't thinking anything beyond being grateful that we'd reached the warm, dry interior of our car, and as the months went on I hoped Torrey had forgotten about our deal. I wasn't that lucky, however, and during our Colorado adventures last summer Torrey had the grace to remind me of our bargain in as tactful of a way as possible. Not being one to go back on my word, I began training when I got home at the end of August.

Five months later, what the fuck was I thinking played on repeat in my head as I walked from my car to the starting line for my first ever race. I definitely still would have been thinking those words regardless of what distance I was running, but they were especially poignant because for some stupid reason I had decided to go for broke and sign up for an ultra-marathon distance of 54K, or 33.55 miles. Did I mention it was my first race? The small handful of 5ks I did years ago where I walked the vast majority of the distance don't count, because I certainly wasn't timed for them, and I'm not even sure I received a race bib or finisher medal. I'd never ran a timed 5k, a 10k, a half-marathon, or a full marathon, but I'd spent the past five months working hard on my own to improve my distance endurance, and when I found a race close to home I jumped at the chance to go for it. I spent every weekend for a month training on the course trails at my local state park, learning the route and pushing my own limits up to 22 miles (or two of the three loops of the race course), because I'll be damned if I was going to give up.

The minute I walked up to the starting area I heard my named called over the PA system by the race director, asking me to come see him as soon as possible. Dread hit my chest and lodged in my throat, because I'm an extreme introvert and had absolutely hoped to avoid any sort of attention during this race. It would be just my luck that a hundred or so people would get to watch me walk over to the race director while I internally freaked out over what could possibly be wrong. When I reached him he smiled at me and reached out to touch my shoulder in what could only be a described as a bracing way as he explained to me as apologetically as possible what had happened. I burst out into full body laughter, the kind that hurts your stomach and makes your shoulders shake, the kind laced with just a little edge of hysteria, because raccoons decimating my drop bags overnight would happen only to me. I had carefully planned what I was going to put in my bags, which would go to each of the three aid stations on the course where I could grab a snack, some electrolyte tablets for my water, address any blisters that might have popped up, and otherwise support myself during the race. I had gone overkill, which I tend to do regardless, because the aid stations were all well-equipped for any needs a runner might have, but I had wanted to be prepared with my own stuff just in case. After learning my bags were next to useless, I knew I was going to be relying on the aid stations for most of my needs. The only thing I really cared about were the change of socks I knew I absolutely needed to have, and it was with no small amount of relief that we found my socks were spared from the raccoons' rampage.

So here's the thing: in previous posts I've discussed how good I am at avoiding things, of ignoring problems, of pushing it all down into the back of my mind and pretending it doesn't exist. I seem to be learning there is no end to the amount of shit I willingly ignore about myself, because it is only recently that I learned I've been having panic attacks for months and have been doing my utmost to ignore what my brain is putting my body through. I probably still wouldn't know if I hadn't had one in a therapy session, where it became difficult to breath and my hands were shaking and my throat was dry and I couldn't string words together and my shoulders and whole legs were tense, where I began sweating and alternating between rubbing my face and pinching my arms. All of which I had literally no idea I was doing until my counselor made me stop and breath, walked me through grounding exercises, then had me describe the physical symptoms of what I had just endured. I. Had. No. Idea. I still don't know all of my triggers, though now that I'm (mostly) aware I can pinpoint the thoughts or words that might induce one of my attacks. And being called to the front of a large crowd of people where I don't know a single person to be told my carefully prepared bags are worthless due to a freak occurrence should have sent me into a panic attack, but it didn't. For reasons I'm not sure I understand, the circumstances made me truly laugh instead, accepting it for what it was and moving on. Maybe it was because I was focused on the monumental task of finishing a 33 mile race instead of the little side details, or maybe it was because I expected a panic attack and was therefore prepared for one, but I surprised myself and stayed calm. I had my socks, the aid stations could provide the rest, now all I had to do was run.

I had this. I knew I did. I was well prepared, knew my body and, at least in this case, my mind. The first 11 mile loop all but flew by with my best pace yet, and it was with a certain amount of fondness that I looked forward to my favorite parts of the trail. Isn't that something, for me to realize I had favorite spots on a running trail, and when I reached them a tiny little smile crossed my face, even on my third and final loop. Not once did it cross my mind that I couldn't do it. Not once did that doubt leach into my head, even when I was tired and walking up the steepest hills. I knew I could do it, that no matter what, even if I had to crawl, I could finish that race. I had plenty of time, hours well into the night, but I knew I could finish before sunset. I wasn't overly concerned about my pace, just going at what I knew I could handle while always moving forward. I found a few people to run with here and there, before eventually either they or I would run on ahead, each of us determined to finish at our own pace. I was pleasantly surprised to see a few familiar faces, people who I'd seen and talked to and even ran with on training runs on that very course, and with just a passing fist bump or a "hey, you got this!" I felt my resolve grow. The hiking community in general, which I've been a part of for years, is usually very polite, exchanging hellos and little bits about the trail in passing; the running community, at least for this race, was so incredibly encouraging it kind of blew me away. Nearly every time I passed someone or someone passed me it was always accompanied by "way to go," "good job," "keep it up," or some other little phrase designed to keep the other person's spirits up. I can't speak for everyone, but I genuinely wanted everyone out there to do well, to be their best, and wanted them to finish their race. Very few people go out there looking to actually compete; most of us just want to go out and run for the sake of running, or for ourselves, or maybe to beat a personal record, or to run with friends.

Trail running wasn't a hard stretch for me, for someone who loves to hike and explore as much as I do, trail running is just a faster way of seeing more. It's the "faster" part that held me back from trying it, and it took an incentive in the form of my best friend making a dumb deal with me to get me to go for it. And there I was, at top form during the first two loops, feeling good and showing that with my pace. I slowed down on my third loop, which I expected, but I still felt good despite being tired. I kept pushing, though not as hard as I could have, content just to have begun the final loop knowing that I would finish it no matter what. Somehow I managed to keep my feet the entire race, and despite the few times I tripped over a rock or root I never went down, which is way more than I can say than during any of my training runs, where my shins and knees and hands still bear the scars of one too many falls. At one point or another during my passes through the aid stations, while scarfing down a cookie or pretzels or pickles or whatever else caught my eye, I had mentioned it was my first race to the volunteers. On my final loop they all remembered, and their encouragement to keep going and finish strong gave me that little extra boost I needed to do exactly that. While I didn't care how long it took me, or whether I would be dead last across the finish line, I had hoped and hoped that I might finish in under eight hours. I wouldn't even call it a goal, because I wasn't actively striving for it when I began; it was just something that would be nice if it happened. When my watch died just before the final aid station, with a little over three miles left to go, I let that hope go, not knowing if I could pace myself without some way of telling time. I did, however, ask the volunteers the time when I left on the last leg of the course; I had 45 minutes to make it to the finish line if I wanted to make it under eight hours. And I honestly wasn't sure that I could, but hot damn did I give it my best shot.

Crossing that final line with a grin on my face, with absolute relief that I had done it, that I had accomplished a task I had repeatedly told myself I was crazy for even considering, was one of the best feelings I've ever felt; it was the same feeling of overwhelming gratitude and relief and triumph that I feel when I summit a mountain, or when I crested the rim of the Grand Canyon after hiking across it, or when I see my car at the trail head after days of backpacking in the desert or the mountains. I didn't even look at the time when I crossed, too overwhelmed to make sense of anything more than the finisher medal in my hand and the applause and cheers from those at the finish line who didn't even know me but were happy for and proud of me for completing the race. It wasn't until later that night when I remembered to look up results online that I discovered I had finished my race in 7 hours, 58 minutes, and 37 seconds. Goal: met. With one minute twenty-three seconds to spare.

East Coast Epic: Niagara Falls

Satisfied. I centered this trip around seven units of the national park system, none of which are located in New York. A secondary goal, however, was to hit as many states along the east coast as possible in the time I had, and really, New York wasn't that much farther than Pennsylvania, plus could I really pass up a visit to the quintessential tourist trap that is Niagara Falls? I also had a friend living in Toronto, which pretty much solidified my plans to go to the state; cross another one off my list, visit another Great Lake, see the falls, and catch up with a friend.

Niagara Falls isn't technically on a lake but instead rests on the Niagara River connecting Lake Ontario to Lake Erie. I'd stopped at a little state park on the shores of Lake Erie on my way to New York, and meandered up to Lake Ontario while killing time waiting for my friend to be available, meaning I approached Niagara Falls from the north. If you ever get a chance, I highly recommend a drive along the Niagara Scenic Parkway, taking the time to stop at all the little state parks that dot the road. There's just something about looking across a canyon and knowing another country sits right there, right across the deep canyon and startling blue-green river.

Now, none of the giant, iconic falls sheltered by Niagara Falls State Park are actually called Niagara Falls. No, that's the name of the city that sprawls on both sides of the US-Canadian border. Goat Island splits the north-flowing Niagara River into three falls, named Bridal Veil Falls, American Falls, and the more famous Horseshoe Falls. Both the Bridal Veil Falls and American Falls sit on the American side of the border, while Horseshoe Falls spans the width of the river between countries. I had done the bare minimum amount of research when looking into this stop along my way, just enough to get me there and tell me there was no camping in the area, so I had no idea the river flowed north, that there were actually three falls, and that none of them were called Niagara. I felt like I'd been lied to my entire life, but looking back I have no idea where I got my preconceptions.

I spent the entire evening at the park, wandering its paved trails, taking countless photos, and generally letting myself get swept away in the flow of tourist traffic. I had no real desire to get tickets to the river, where I could either get wet by walking to the base of Bridal Veil Falls or take a boat to the churning pool of Horseshoe Falls, but instead stuck to the overlooks including the glass observation deck which was as close as one could get to an aerial view of the falls without actually leaving solid ground. After a frankly ridiculous wait at the United States border my friend finally made it through and met me at the park, where we retraced my steps and revisited all the views before it got dark.

She and I headed into the city on foot to find some dinner, and would it really be a visit to New York without pizza? We found a vendor and grabbed a table, chatting the whole time. The fireworks began as we were eating, and we made our way back to the falls to catch the show. We wandered back to the observation deck and watched as the falls were lit up in a cycle of red, white, and blue from floodlights on the Canadian side of the river. Again, I had no idea they lit up the falls, and I am still so happy we decided to stay in the area until late. The longer I spent there the happier I became, pleased with myself for being in that spot on what was basically a whim. I should probably open my future travels up a little more to allow for memories like these.

East Coast Epic: Happy Accidents

Flexible. I hadn't had any intention of ending up in New York a week prior to finding myself in the state. My sister and I had planned a summer west coast trip, complete with glaciers, tide pools, and volcanoes. Life got in the way, however, and four days before I was supposed to fly to Montana we cancelled the trip. Being me, I was still itching to go somewhere, so I sat down at my computer and started looking, finally coming up with a list of places I wanted to see but no defined route or timeline to see them. I basically just started driving. Okay, there was a little bit more to it than that, but that planning process if for another post. Somehow, some way, instead of ending up in Montana I ended up on the exact opposite side of the country, meandering my way through the state of New York along the Great Lakes.

When I made tentative plans to hit up New York, crossing off another state on my list, I reached out to a friend living in Toronto, figuring if I were that close it'd be worth a shot to see if she could meet up. She could during the evening toward the beginning of my East Coast Epic, so I needed to find something to occupy myself until she was available. We made plans to meet in Niagara Falls on the US side of the border because I don't have a passport (yet!) and I set out from my campsite in Pennsylvania with no plan in mind but to see where the road might take me.

That ended up being a pretty great plan, because otherwise I never would have stumbled into a beautiful state park along the New York/Pennsylvania border. Allegany State Park boasts multiple fishing lakes nestled among the rolling wooded hills typical of the northeastern part of the United States, bisected by a couple of paved roads and an awesome dirt road. Waterfalls splash just down little hiking trails from the side of the road, and hundreds of butterflies flutter in open meadows full of wildflowers. I spent the better part of a day in the park, driving its roads and exploring the woods and meadows. I even drove that dirt road twice because it was so much fun. Happy accidents can happen, and it totally pays to not have a complete plan in place when you're exploring a new place. If you're ever in the area I would definitely check out this little park!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Find the Gator

A recent weekend spent down along the Gulf Coast of Texas yielded more than even I had hoped when planning my get-away. The first stop of the day was Brazos Bend, my go-to place for alligators. These living dinosaurs live in the park year-round, as they do in most of east and south Texas, but heading there in the winter when the plant life has died back a bit makes the gators even easier to see. I saw eleven gators on this trip, including a huge one out of the water just off the trail. I had both Hoodoo and Callie with me, but I kept them in my arms while skirting the edges of the lakes and sloughs, not at all interested in losing one of my babies to a hungry gator. While I am absolutely positive there were way more than eleven gators who could see me, their camouflage and general lack of movement made them less than easy to find. A little thrill of excitement shot through me every time I managed to spot one, looking more for their angular head or their serrated tail than anything else.

Leave me a comment and tell me if you see the gator in the photo above! I have several more photos of gators that are hidden even better!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Davis Mountains State Park

On a whirlwind adventure last spring I found myself deep in the Chihuahuan desert in southwestern Texas, at Davis Mountains State Park. Western Texas is full of little desert mountain ranges, and while yes, it was definitely desert, I was more than a little suprised to find an abudance of grasses covering the mountains. It even rained a little during my visit; not enough to do much more than wet the earth, but hey rain is rain in the arid southwest. The rolling mountains and little canyons boast a wide variety of wildlife, including a booming population of cougars to the point where you're warned not to hike alone. I didn't instead opting to stick to the roads and other people during my one-night visit to the park, but I couldn't help but wish I'd seen one of the elusive cats. Despite my years of travelling and years of working with them, I've never seen a cougar (puma, mountain lion, catamount, pather, etc.) in the wild. Perhaps someday I'll get lucky, but I know more than likely I'll get a glimpse of a dark tufted tail disappearing into the bushes and that'll be it. You never know!

Leave me a comment below and tell me if you've ever seen a cougar in the wild! I work with them, and I'm not sure I actually want to come face to face with one on the trail..

2018 Wrap-Up: Um, It Was A Year

Flagging. I'm not even sure what to say about this year. What a whirlwind! I would travel a bunch, then go several months without hitting the road, only to have several trips lined up back to back. Half the trips I began the year planning ended up falling through, but others popped up unexpectedly and I learned to roll with it. This was definitely a year for learning new things, not only about myself and my limits but about my furry and non-furry companions as well. This was the year I got lost, but conquered mountains. This was the year I discovered the puppy I raised to be a travel companion hates travelling, but then successfully raised an adventure kitten.  This was the year I decided I don't like camping in forests nearly as much as I enjoy camping in deserts. This was the year where sometimes, I just wanted to be home. I had some health issues during the later part of the year that sucked the energy out of me and made me wish for nothing other than a place to lay my head for hours on end, and I think my travelling reflected that. Yeah, it was definitely a year, and I'm honestly glad it's over. Take a peek at the summaries of each of my adventures below, and like the past few years check out my stats at the end of the post:

Between being sick with the flu and moving into our new house (!!!) I missed my annual birthday trip this year. Instead, I snuck away in February for a couple days and drove around Texas to check out seven state parks, including Monahans Sandhills pictured above. Ghost and Callie tagged along too!

I had a very unexpected adventure in March, which included a trip up to Nebraska and down to extreme western Texas. This trip included some one-on-one Father/Daughter time as we explored western Nebraska's national monuments during late winter.

This year also included my first Ren Fest! Unfortunatley I didn't dress up, but Jared did buy me a cloak for my very own. I looked like a Jedi. Or an elf. I'd rather stick with Jedi, personally. Anyway, my ren fest experience was awesome and I can't wait to go to another one!

I also ran up to Nebraska to go to one of my oldest childhood friends' baby shower! It was a short and sweet trip and I was so happy to be part of her day. (Side note: I got to meet little Emily later in the summer on one of my stops by home! She was so precious!)

I had wavered back and forth on where to go during a week off at the end of May, trying to decide between the Gila Wilderness in New Mexico, or to make a trip of driving around the New England states. I kinda wish I'd chosen New England, because this was the trip I ended up lost in the desert. I got out of it, obviously, but I won't deny that it left me quite shaken for a while. And now I can't look at my legs without seeing the scars. I came out of it stronger once I'd spent several days laying on the couch licking my wounds (read: pride) and it wasn't long before I'd decided the Gila and I have unfinished business that I'll be looking to make right in the future.

Jared and I had a weekend run-away to Dallas, just the two of us, to celebrate our anniversary a little early in the middle of June. We did what we do best: visited zoos and aquariums, got up to shenanigans, and ordered lots of room service.

My sister and I embarked on a looooong adventure in July, visiting everywhere from Yellowstone in Wyoming to Arches in Utah. We really went without much of a plan, and in the end that turned out better for us. We like going with the flow, and not being sure where we'll end up, though we're both Type A enough that we had a general idea of what we wanted to see. Mountains to desert, with a few hot springs and geysers thrown in? Bring it!

I also went to my first ever convention this year, and of course it was a Harry Potter convention in Dallas! I had a great time at LeakyCon, and they're coming back to Dallas next year. I can't wait!

Y'all have heard me brag about this enough, so I'll keep it short: I met Torrey in Colorado for our annual August Pikes Peak visit, and while we were at it we hiked six 14,000ft mountains in five days. With my cat. #LikeABoss

I managed to find a weekend to go leaf-peeping this autumn, and was able to bring my kitten as well as my old Marley man. I have to say, a weekend in the forest (despite a midnight thunderstorm and a leaky tent) did wonders for my happiness.

Torrey and I accomplished more this year than just hiking a few mountains: we also finished the Buffalo River Trail, a 37 mile trail that parallels the Buffalo National River in the Ozarks of northern Arkansas. It was cold, it was warm, it was dry, it was wet, and it was awesome.

Jared and I met my family down in San Antonio for an early family Christmas celebration on the River Walk during the weekend after Thanksgiving. The temperatures were in the upper 70's, the Walk was decked out for Christmas, and we had our fair share of over-indulging. Like ya do.

I just wrapped up a short surprise visit to Nebraska last week to be there for my little sis, who graduated with her Masters Degree this winter. I have to say, I am one proud big sister!

I had the fewest adventures this year since I started travelling back in 2014, but this year was all about quality. I had three week-long trips, and ten more smaller ones throughout the year, and I'm pretty sure I set a record for the least amout of money spent on my trips. Number of hours and amount of miles travelled was about average, and the number of states visited seems to be holding pretty steady. Check it out:

Adventures: 13
Hours: 1053.1
Miles Driven: 20,744
Total Cost: $3085.98
States Visited: 12
Hiked: 105.69 miles
State Parks Visited: 11
National Parks Visited: 5
National Monuments Visited: 6
National Forests Visited: 6
Wilderness Areas Visited: 1
National Rivers Visited: 1
Number of Nights Tent Camping Near the Car: 9
Number of Nights Sleeping IN the Car: 10
Number of Nights Backpacking: 7
Number of Nights in a Hotel: 8
Number of Nights in a House: 10
Number of Nights Driving: 1
Animal Companions: 28
Human Companions: 27

Overall 2018 was a good year, and I've already got my sister's and Torrey's summer trips planned out for 2019. I'll do everything in my power to get Hoodoo out and hiking with me as well, likely on several smaller trips throughout the year. I've got a big trip coming up this winter, where a certain desert is calling my name. Obviously I'm already looking forward to 2019. Bring it on!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Government Ditch

If you ever get a chance to take a boat tour on Caddo Lake in East Texas, do it! I had the opportunity to go this summer, and it was fantastic! Our boat guide was incredibly knowledgeable, and took us on a route through the swampy lake that he clearly knew by heart. The "ditch" pictured above was cleared out by the government in order to make room for steam engines, which at that time were the primary mode of transporting goods, and involved tearing out the cypress trees and dredging the canal to make it deep enough to get a boat through. A lot of Caddo Lake is a mixture of shallow waters and sopping wet land that rises just a few inches above the waterline, surrounded by the world's largest cypress forest. At any given time the land could be submerged or truly dry, depending on the water levels of the lake. Caddo's history is rich, and I wouldn't do it justice to try to summarize here. From the Caddo Native Americans to the wild west pioneers, to the civil war soldiers and the Great Depression's Civilian Conservation Corp, and the World War that followed, Texas history permeates even the air you breathe. Do yourself a favor, and if you're in my neck of the woods take an hour or two and get out on the lake. Who knows, you may even see an alligator.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Balmorhea

Welling up from the San Solomon Springs at the foot of the Davis Mountains in southwestern Texas, the waters at Balmorhea State Park weren't always contained in what amounts to a swimming pool filled with fish. The spring used to release into a wide wetland until the Great Depression, when FDR's New Deal created the Civilian Conservation Corp. One company was stationed at Balmorhea and it is their labor that created the state park as we know it today. Limestone and adobe buildings line the contained spring, who's waters are so clear you can see every little fish and turtle that calls the area home. The water stays a constant 74f, the ground temperature in the area, and it makes for a refreshing respite from the Chihuahuan Desert heat.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Close Encounters of the Armadillo Kind

A get away to South Llano River State Park in southwest Texas came with a cute little visitor in the form of a curious armadillo. I hadn't been at camp long after hiking a mile and a half from the trailhead to one of the five primitive sites in the park, and had thrown my gear all over the place as I set up for the night. One second I had my back to my picnic table, the next I turned around and found myself five feet from an armadillo who had come to investigate my stuff. Of course, I reached for my camera and managed to snap a few pictures of my visitor before it wandered off into the bushes, but I could hear it rustling around my camp for the rest of the night, and when I woke up in the morning there were freshly dug holes all around my tent. I hope it had a successful foraging night!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Right Turn Only

Through all of my travelling, especially within state and national parks, I've developed a system that ensures I see as much of the park roads as possible, with little risk of missing anything important. Whenever I enter a park, starting at the entrance gate, I take as many right-hand turns as possible. From full on scenic drives to little overlooks, if I consistently take in the scene on the right side of the road I am almost guaranteed to hit every point of interest in the park. More than likely the park road either loops in on itself, or hits the other side of the park and you have to turn around in order to get back in the way you came; either way, if you stop or turn only on the right side of the road you won't be able to get lost, or miss anything you might want to see. As long as you heed warning signs such as a private residence, maintenance, employees only, or whatever, and stay on the roads you're supposed to be on, you're golden. Of course, there are going to be times where you just can't turn right, but that's ok. My general rule lets me see as much as possible, and it's a strategy I will always use when exploring a new park. Gotta love those roads!

Leave me a comment below and tell me how you explore new places. Do you plan it all out, or do you just go on a whim?

A Snapshot and The Scoop: He Filled Those Straps

Look at how big Ghost has gotten! Just six months ago he was a tiny little puppy who was swallowed by this backpack (check out the picture here), and now look at him! He's completely grown in to it, and he'll continue to grow a little more for a few more months yet! I took Ghost and Callie on an adventure in West Texas and finally got to put Ghost's backpack to good use - he carried all the dog food, bowls, and their water! I was so proud of him, he kept step with me every inch of the way and the backpack didn't bother or slow him down at all. My little grey adventure pup isn't so little anymore!

Leave me a comment below with a picture of your adventure pup in their travel gear!

Capable and Competent

Assured. I've got a new one for ya: somehow, I had to convince the man standing in front of me to let me backpack. I had arrived earlier than expected at Monahans Sandhills State Park, tucked back in the Chihuahuan Desert in western Texas, and decided to make the most of my time by backpacking out onto the dune field to spend a night among the sands. For past trips, if I had to talk to anybody at all it was just to talk to the wilderness ranger and receive my permit. This time, I had to convice the park ranger in front of me that I was a capable and competent backpacker - something I had no idea how to do. I understood his position: the dune field stretches on for hundreds of miles north, east, and west, with very few distiguishing features to navigate by and even less water to support survival in the desert heat, with no shelter to hide from the sun, storms, or wind. Simply put, he didn't want to have to look for me if I failed to check out in the morning. I was lectured about the importance of navigational experience, being able to keep my head, and was warned on more than one occasion that backpacking into the dunes was not something they let just anybody do. Apparently I convinced him I was capable, because twenty minutes later I was filling up my water bottles and loading my pack for an overnight in the dune field.

Talk about a huge confidence (and ego) boost for me! Some time in the last few years I've developed from a novice hiker with no experience and only book smarts to a seasoned backpacker confident enough to take friends with me on crazy adventures and to hold my own on trips that would leave others hoplessly lost. How did that happen without me noticing?!? My spirits soared as I began my trek into the dunes. I had meant to get out to Monahans for ages but never made the time; now I'm wondering what took me so long. I mean, the desert is less than six hours from my house! Comforting and familiar, the dunes reminded me of one of my favorite national parks in Colorado, though they're smaller here, with more vegetation and I didn't get the mountain vistas, but they are definitely sand dunes and I couldn't have been happier. I want to hike every mile of that park, to find every water seep that makes life possible, to feel the hot surface give way to cool sand under my toes.

Callie, Ghost, and I had a lazy afternoon, hiking about a mile and a half through loose sand and thorny vegetation before I let the dogs pick a spot to camp. The first dune bowl they both went in to after I was ready to find a site became our home for the night. The dogs ran loose, kicking up sand as they flew up and down the dunes around me while I set up the tent. I'm pretty certain they were just as excited to be camping and hiking as I was. We explored all around our camp, rolling and played in the sand with abandon. I let the sun warm my bones, the last of my stresses drifting away with the breeze as the afternoon wound down and the sun slowly sank toward the horizon.

Night on the dune field wasn't too dark, even with no moon. In the reflected glow of the stars we listened to coyotes calling around us, though none of the packs came close enough to alert the dogs. A restful night was followed by a cool dawn, and it didn't take me too long to pack up and begin our hike out. Through the whole trip I'd been sure to mark any significant landmarks within eyesight, including an oil pumpjack, a windmill, and a strip of power lines. I followed the landmarks back to the lot where I'd left my car, trailing behind the dogs as they ran circles around me in the soft sand. Upon my return I made sure to check out with the rangers so they knew I was safe and sound, and grateful for the night in the dunes they'd let me have.

What I'm listening to: Show Us The Way by Patrick Doyle

A Snapshot and The Scoop: The Forgotten Luxury of Car Camping

I can't believe I'd forgotten how nice it is to car-camp. In my quest to hike as much as possible and sleep under as many different trees as I can, I seem to have dismissed the luxuries of car camping. What do you mean I can overpack and not be punished for it by lugging it miles on my back? I don't have to anticipate how cold I'll be at night, because I can just grab extra blankets? What?? And the food! Let me just say: YUM! Having everythign I need and more available to me by just opening the trunk of my car - what a neat concept! Of course, I car camped one night on my most recent trip out West, then immediately set off backpacking the next night, but oh well. It was nice while it lasted!

Leave me a comment below and tell me if you've ever had that "Ah Hah!" moment when you rediscover something you'd forgotten was a luxury. I'll try to remember just how much I enjoyed it!