A Snapshot and The Scoop: Getting to Know the Local Wildlife

On my recent winter adventure in Zion National Park I came around a bend on a hikinng trail and found myself in the middle of a herd of female mule deer and their young. I'm pretty sure I was more surprised than they were because after they gave me appraising stares, they all lowered their heads and continued grazing. They couldn't have been bothered at all that I was there. I took my time taking pictures, with a few of the young ones coming right up to the trail where I was standing. I could have reached out and touched them. I've never been so close to mule deer in the wild, and it's definitely something the won't happen very often!

Leave me a comment below and let me know if I'm crazy for getting so excited about a bunch of deer. I'm not, right?

No Excuses: Making Time To Explore Texas

Ashamed. Have you ever lived so close to somewhere you wanted to visit, but just hadn't made the time to go there? A place in your own backyard, but you've had your sights so trained on distant mountains (guilty...) that you haven't considered anything closer than a day's car ride worth the trip? I have been so caught up with my travels for the past year, and with making sure my travels took me out of Texas, that I haven't even considered the diversity that Texas has to offer. I've said it before and I'll admit it again, I've got a bit of a prejudice against Texas. I have no real reason for it, and I know that I'm being stupid. To remedy this, I've been putting an emphasis on exploring the state I've chosen to call home, starting with short day trips and some weekend overnighters. At the beginning of March, on a perfect Spring weekend, my sister drove down from Nebraska and together we corrected the most glaring omission from my travels so far by getting our butts down to the gulf coast!

I've lived in Texas for a full year, and haven't taken the time to make a trip to the ocean! I am so ashamed of myself, but I was always looking North (and West) when I planned out my adventures. I knew the gulf was four hours away from my home, and somehow I always overlooked it as a viable weekend trip. Sure, I considered spending a weekend on the coast several times throughout the last year, but something always came up and I never went. I've seen the Pacific Ocean in Oregon, the Atlantic Ocean in Virginia, and I've been to the Gulf of Mexico at Galveston State Park in Texas, but all of those were on family trips, the most recent of which was ten years ago. Being from (very) land-locked Nebraska, opportunites to go to any ocean were few and far between, but now that I live in Texas I have no excuse as to why I didn't drop my belongings at my new house and run straight down to the coast. I should have, and I'm kicking myself that it took me so long to make time to go to the beach. When my sister came for her visit she arrived late on a Friday night, and after a few hours of sleep I all but dragged her out the door early the next morning, determined to finally go to the ocean.

We arrived at Texas's Sea Rim State Park at mid-morning and didn't take long to check in, pay for our primitive camp site on the beach, and get my little Toyota out onto the sand. I stopped just off the pavement, and before I could even turn off the car my sister bolted straight to the water. What followed was an entire day of beachcombing, chatting, looking for shells, and keeping an eye out for alligators. We started on the beach, walking a little right along the water's edge while reveling in the salty air. We both desperately wanted to see gators (neither of us have seen them in the wild) so we took a stroll along a boardwalk set above the intertidal marshes within the park's boundaries. We saw plenty of birds and had fun pointing out all of the blue crabs, but had no luck with the gators. We probably had no chance of seeing one anyway due to the numerous people on bikes, even though the sign at the entrance clearly stated no bikes were allowed. We found out why there shouldn't be bike on the boardwalk when a little family of four, the youngest of whom were on bikes, tried to squeeze past us in the opposite direction. They hadn't gone ten feet before we heard a great splash and whipped around to find the dad scooping his son out of the brackish waters by one arm. The child was fine, just a little shocked, but started freaking out when he saw his mom start panicing. I mean really, there were no gators, no fish, not even a crab in the vicinity, and the water wasn't very deep, just a couple of feet. He probably could have stood up and his head would have been above water. They got off their bikes and walked after that.

My sister and I spent the rest of our day wandering down the coastline, picking up shells and digging in the sand. We'd brought beach towels with us, and spent some time napping in the sun and just relaxing. We went to the nearest town to find something to eat, then explored the national wildlife refuges near the state park in late afternoon.We didn't realize it at the time, of course, but the two of us ended up so fried from being in the sun all day that we looked like freshly cooked lobsters. Oops!

Evening on the beach was amazing, with the colors and the sea breeze and the first stars blooming above a hot fire. Morning on the beach, however, was magical. We were up before the sun, when the first brightening of the horizon hinted at the coming of a new day. Everything was quiet, except the constant wind and the rhythmic waves at low tide. We picked our way through the beach debris down to the water's edge, and waited with the seagulls for the sun to rise. It is for moments like those that I travel, and I still can't believe it took me so long to get to the coast, even with it being so close to me. I was usually looking west toward my desert or the Rockies, however only in Texas can I reconcile my love of the desert with my rekindled love of the coast, because here we have oceans, forests, plains, deserts, mountains and sub-tropics, all within relatively short distances of each other; I think I might have to give Texas another chance.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Caution, Trail May Be Muddy

I have never been on such a muddy desert hiking trail. Sure, sometimes I'll come across the remnants of a puddle, with sticky mud being all that's left, but for nearly an entire trail to be one giant mud pit - in the desert - is ridiculous. They even had a warning sign at the start of the trail cautioning about the mud, but I didn't think anything of it. I mean, it's the desert. It's supposed to be bone dry. I also didn't take the fact that it had been raining all day into consideration. I was certainly thinking about it as I slid all over the trail, trying to keep my balance and my shoes as I felt the sticky mud grab hold of them with every step. Next time, I'll wear waders.

Leave me a comment below and tell me if you would have hike that trail in the mud!

Celebrating National Park Week

Grand View Point, Canyonlands National Park

Get excited! It's National Park Week! To celebrate, all national parks are offering free admission to all of their units across the United States; make sure to get out there and take advantage of it! In honor of this week, I've compiled a list, complete with a photo, of all of my favorite national parks/monuments/recreation areas/ect. Each place listed has at least one other blog post associated with it, except Glacier, and I would like to point out that these are in no particular order.

Arches National Park:

This park, located near Moab, UT, is incredibly popular, and for good reason. The rust-red sandstone is prime for forming the largest concentration of arches in the world. You can hike to many of them, though the most popular by far are Delicate Arch (pictured above) and Landscape Arch.

Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve:

Where can you go wrong with the highest sand dunes in North America? Absolutely nowhere, as long as you go visit this park, located in central Colorado between two mountain ranges sporting several 14ers. Ringed by life-giving seasonal streams, Great Sand Dunes is a desert paradise, located right next to a mountain oasis. You have to at least make the three-mile trek to High Dune, the tallest dune on the front range of the dune field. If you're feeling adventurous, continue on several miles to Star Dune, the tallest dune in North America (though make sure you bring plenty of water..and don't be on the field in a thunderstorm!)

White Sands National Monument:

Speaking of sand dunes, did you know there is such a thing as snow-white sand dunes? A trip to White Sands National Monument in New Mexico will show you I'm not joking, and that the picture above really is sand, not snow! This desert park bakes during the day, and the white sand is really good at reflecting the sun right into your eyes. Try visiting in the morning or the evening to fully enjoy this beautiful park. Also, you can backpack in the dune field. I want to go back!

Great Smoky Mountains National Park:

This is the most popular park in the states for a very good reason. Not only are the Smoky Mountains located in the southeastern US, where a great population of citizens live and work, but there is something alluring about the rolling green mountains, waterfalls, and open coves that stretch on for miles. The Appalachian Trail cuts directly through the middle of the park, and wildlife (including bears) are abundant. Make sure you have plenty of time when you visit this park; you're gonna need it.

Canyonlands National Park:

As Arches National Park's less-popular neighbor, Canyonlands doesn't see nearly as many visitors, though in my opinion that's what make it amazing. Maybe it's the drive up a mesa to get to the Island in the Sky District, or the distance to the three other districts encompassed in the park (including The Needles District, pictured above) none of which are connected by roads through the park, requiring you to drive miles and spend hours just to get to them. Whatever the reason people skip this park, Canyonlands has something to offer to sightseers, hikers, backpackers and jeep junkies alike. As of right now, this is my favorite park out of all of them. I've only visited the Island in the Sky District and the Needles District, though I would love to visit The Maze and Horseshoe Canyon at some point!

Capitol Reef National Park:

For reasons unclear to me this park, located in south-central Utah, is often skipped over by travelers making a beeline between Arches National Park and Zion National Park. They have no idea what they're missing! A great uplift in the earth's crust thousands of years ago created a great barrier to easst-west travel of cliffs and canyons, and the desert sun parched the land. There is, however, the Fremont River that carves its way through the canyons and brings life to the area. The ancient Fremont Culture used to call the park home, and in more recent times Mormons settled the area and farmed the little oasis. Their orchards still stand, and during the fall you are welcome to pick your own fruits. Don't forget to take a hike through Grand Wash or Capitol Gorge, or hit one of the backcountry roads for a bumpy, thrilling ride.

Bryce Canyon National Park:

Not a true canyon, red rock hoodoos tower within this amphitheater located at the highest elevation of the Big Five national parks in southern Utah. Due to this elevation, the park is often blanketed with snow during the winter months, which actually draws photographers from all over to try to capture the snow-topped hoodoos. Be warned, if you visit during the summer there is a good chance of thunderstorms, and it is very hot. If you visit during winter most of the park road is closed, and the plows have a hard time keeping up with the amount of snow that gets dumped on this high desert park.

Zion National Park:

Ever wondered what it would be like to walk up a shallow, cool river in the middle of a desert summer, while red cliffs tower hundreds of feet above you? Take a trip to this park and you can find out for yourself. While the Virgin River Walk is definitely popular during the summer and fall months, this park is enormous and offers hiking for all abilities. Angel's Landing, the dizzying strenuous hike to the top of a narrow sandstone fin hundreds of feet above the canyon bottom is another popular trail, though it's not for those afraid of heights. Whether you're there for a day or a week, you won't run out of things to do at this amazing park.

Rocky Mountain National Park:

My list wouldn't be complete without Rock Mountain National Park. As the first park I actively remember visiting, and definitely one I've revistited most often, Rocky Mountain holds a special place in my heart. Hikes anywhere from an hour to several days await you in this park, and Trail Ridge Road is not to be missed. Don't just stop on the east side of the park either, but cross the Continental Divide and check out the west side. You're much more likely to see moose on that side down by the banks of the tiny Colorado River!

Glacier National Park:

This is a park that I haven't visited in nearly ten years, but the fact that I'm including it on this list ought to be enough to convince you to go check it out for yourself. Located in northern Montana, this is a park that is a little bit difficult for me to get to at the moment, especially given that I prefer to drive everywhere I go. That being said, I'm working on plans to get back up north and revisit the park that remains under snow well into summer. From my memories, journals and pictures, this park is a hiker's haven, and I would need at least a week there just to scrape the surface. Plus, as it's name implies, there are glaciers to explore!

Morane Park, Rocky Mountain National Park

If you've been following along, you know by now that I have no intentions of ending my travels. I would love to visit every single one of the National Parks units sometime in my life, and often plan trips according to what parks are close by. I tend to revisit my favorites, though I am trying to branch out and discover new places. Every park has something that makes it special; go discover it for yourself!

Medano Creek, Great Sand Dunes National Park

A Snapshot and The Scoop: The Struggle of a Hiker with Allergies

Like most people, I have allergies. I've got seasonal allergies, allergies to certain medications, and luckily only one life-threatening allergy to moth balls (my airways close up and I stop being able to breathe.) However, I've got an allergy that causes me serious problems as a hiker: I'm allergic to skin adhesives. I break out in a red, raised sometimes painful sometimes itchy rash wherever my skin comes into contact with adhesives. That means no bandaids, which isn't normally a problem because I just use wrap that is adhesive only to itself. But when I hike I like to use moleskin or tape the spots on my heels, toes and feet where I'm prone to getting blisters. In short: don't tape, get blisters; do tape, get a rash. The struggle is real, people.

Leave me a comment below and tell me if you have a similar allergy.

A Tour of East Texas

Sated. Every once in a while, I just want to drive. Well, actually that's a pretty common wish, but I don't get to act on it very often. In the middle of February, though, I did just that. I grabbed our dog, Callie, and took off for the day on a loop tour of the piney woods of East Texas. Callie and I got into all sorts of adventures on our day, and I'm going to make a point from now on to go on mini day-long adventures more often from now on!

Our first stop was Martin Creek Lake State Park, where we stretched our legs with a short hike around the perimeter of the small island within park boundaries. The island is wooded, though it does have an open grassy area in the middle that excited Callie, probably due to the little scurrying creatures in the grasses (don't worry, she's well trained and leaves local wildlife alone!) We walked mostly along the shoreline, watching the low gray clouds and avoiding the chilly wind as much as possible. A couple of times we startled a bunch of ducks as we came around a corner on the shore, and boy did Callie love to watch them swim off!

We then moved on to Sabine National Forest and stood on the shores of the giant dammed Sabine River, looking across the water toward Louisiana, walking softly among the pines and marveling at how green it still was, even in the middle of February. There was nobody around, and given the wind and the threat of rain, I wasn't surprised to have the place to ourselves. We didn't stay too long on the shores of the lake, but instead found ourselves a patchwork of Forest Service dirt roads that entertained me greatly. I have to admit, I was half-hoping to see a Louisiana Black Bear while cruising those back roads, though I know we didn't get nearly deep enough into the forest to really have a sporting chance. I turned around after a while, mostly because I didn't have a map of the forest roads and I really didn't want to get lost. So we moved on.

Our route took us through Angelina National Forest, on fantastic highways whose speed limits reached 75mph, to Davy Crockett National Forest and our final destination of the day, Mission Tejas State Park. We toured the park, stretching our legs again at a small pond around which trees were just beginning to bud. Callie was upset that she had to stay in the car as I explored the old mission and house on site, but I wasn't too long. I don't think she really minded too much, considering she passed out on my seat as soon as I came back.

Our tour of East Texas was short, but we managed to see and do a lot in one day. I have a goal to see as many parks as possible, and hitting three of the four National Forests in East Texas made me happy! Next time Callie and I go on an adventure, we might go West!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: My Indecisiveness Gets Really Annoying

After being forced to abandon my hiking and backpacking plans due to a road closure, I made a trip to Bryce Canyon National Park, only to have my attempts to see the hoodoos thwarted by yet more snow. With half a mind to head to my next planned destination, Zion National Park, I left Bryce amid a snowstorm that quickly intensified to nearly white-out conditions. I drove slowly, hovering on the edge of turning back and finding a hotel, while also grappling with my gigantic stubborn streak. Only after 13 miles of inching through piles of snow did my common sense win over my idiocy, and I turned back to the last place of safety and warmth I'd passed. Thirteen miles later I pulled into the driveway of a hotel and gratefully asked for a room. My satisfaction with the choice to turn back only increased when I saw they had bottles of wine for sale, and I purchased three bottles to help me wait out the storm.

Leave me a comment below and let me know if you would have just stayed put right from the beginning, or would you have tried to move on like I did?

Turning Around on a Trail: The Second Time Ever

Marvelous. I don't think I've ever seen so much water in the desert. It flowed in sheets down the cliff and followed the trails along the path of least resistance as gravity forced it toward the bottom of the canyon. I'm sure, whenever I get a chance to see Zion National Park again, I won't see nearly as much water as I did this winter. It rained almost constantly during my stay in the canyon, which left everything soaked through and shimmering with waterdrops. In the higher elevations of the park, the rain froze into snow, and ice coated everything in sight. My hike to Hidden Canyon started right near the Virgin River, at the very bottom of Zion Canyon, and took me up to the snow line and beyond. It is one of the absolute best hikes I've ever had the pleasure of trekking.

My hike can be summed up in one word: wet. I started above Weeping Rock, just off of the main road through Zion Canyon, and the waters that fed Weeping Rock cascaded down onto the switchbacks that steadily took me up the cliff. Often, I found myself picking my way along running water that flowed down the trail, or jumping across overflows that cut right across my path. Rain and mist swirled around my face, creeping under my hood and soaking my face and hair. It wasn't too long, though before the water on the trail started to turn slushy, and finally gave way to ice as I noticed snow lingering above me. I turned a corner in the trail, and found myself in a whole different winter world.

Sleet showered the trail in front of me, and I knew I'd reached the point where upper elevation snow mixed with the lower elevation rain. Ice clung to the canyon walls and every step needed to be tested for stability and grip before fully lowering weight onto it. It was around this point that the few people who had been on the trail with me peeled off, either on to a different trail, or turned back to return to the warmth of their cars. I had the whole trail to myself, and I headed off to find Hidden Canyon, a slot that more than lives up to it's name.

Soon, I found myself walking in the slushy bootprints of one other brave soul, and I couldn't help but think to myself that at least I wasn't the only crazy one to be on the trail. I saw only one set of prints leading up toward the canyon, but none coming back down, so I knew the person was still ahead of me, and would have no choice but to come back down eventually. It was around this time that my steps became a little more treacherous, and I slowed down and took great care where I put my feet, mindful of the ice that hid under the surface slush on the rocks. I was thankful for the waterproof boots and double layer of wool socks that kept my feet warm and dry, and I maintained enough speed to keep myself warm through movement; otherwise, I'm sure I would have been freezing. Instead, I marveled at my surroundings, at the towering canyon walls and the sporadic ponderosa pines that became more frequent the higher I climbed. I reached a set of stairs that took me up and around a huge boulder, and jumped a few small streams that probably ran dry during the summer but currently were full of icy water rushing to meet the river far below.

Rounding yet another corner in the path, I stopped short at the sight that greeted me: a series of steep, narrow "stairs" cut right into the cliff with a iron chain handrail bolted into the sandstone. To complete the vision, each of the stairs was covered in slush and ice, and the handrail looked wet and frozen to the touch. It wasn't exactly an inviting sight. My only comfort lay in the bootprints I'd been following, and I could see they had safely reached the bottom of the stairs and the relative safety of a wider rock ledge tucked into the mouth of a small side canyon. It took me several calming breaths before I plucked up the courage to descend those stairs, and I don't admit that lightly. Heights and ice and snow and peg-bolted iron chains don't bother me in and of themselves, but put them all together, coupled with the fact that nobody knew exactly where I was and that if I fell, I would fall to my death, I was a little apprehensive. But I gathered my courage and my guts, wrapped both arms around the chain, and side-stepped down the stairs, hugging tightly to the cliff wall and only looking at the six inches of space I needed to put my next step.

Can you imagine my relief at getting to the bottom of those stairs? I tried really hard to not think about having to go back up them, and instead focused on continuing on. However, when I turned the next corner my heart sank. I was faced with an even steeper set of stairs, this time climbing up and out of sight around the canyon wall with no end as far as I could see. As a matter of fact, from my vantage point the stairs looked like they dropped off the edge of the cliff into a dizzying fall. It was as I stood there, deliberating with myself about the advantages of continuing the hike despite the serious risks (including but not limited to the ice-covered stairs and the hundreds of feet of open air between myself and the canyon bottom) that the owner of the bootprints I'd been following came around the very corner I was dubiously contemplating. I waited until he reached the same landing I stood on before greeting him, knowing he needed to concentrate on his footing and making it to solid ground safely.

I'm not even sure he saw me at first, not until he was relatively close. Once he found relief, we greeted each other and commented on the thrill of the trail, before I bombarded him with questions about the trail ahead, which he had obviously just come back from. He was a solo hiker as well, and informed me that the trail really only got worse as it climbed higher, and into Hidden Canyon itself. More stairs waited, unseen around the next corner, and the heights only got higer. Hidden Canyon was amazing, he said, but getting there was not worth the very real risk of falling. Without microspikes, the trail would be impassable, and even with them he didn't recommend it. Well, I had microspikes with me, but hearing his warnings against continuing on, at least with ice and snow covering the trail, convinced me to save the grandeur of the slot for another day. For the second time in my life, I turned around on a trail before I reached my destination.

Often times on the trail I am faced with making the decision to turn back, or to acknowledge the risks but push on; usually my stubborn streak wins out and I continue on. Was I disappointed to turn back? Sure, of course I was. But the risks of that trail were not worth the reward, no matter how amazing the slot canyon was. I'll make it back to Zion soon, and that hike will be the very first thing I do in the park, but this winter was not the time to do so. Instead, I enjoyed the companionship of the only other hiker on the trail as we descended together, trading stories of our adventures and recommending other parks and places. I hardly even acknowledged the apprehension as I wrapped my arms around the iron chain and side-stepped my way back up the narrow stairs, and once we reached solid ground again we sped along without hesitation. This hike still lands itself on my list of most amazing hikes ever, even though I didn't finish it. It promises to be a fantastic adventure, and I can't wait until I get the chance to go back and conquer it myself.