A Snapshot and The Scoop: Alluvial Fans

Turkey Flats, located in Joshua Tree National Park, is a prime example of the formation of alluvial fans that occur down slopes of mountains. Comprised of sediments such as gravel, sand, rock, alluvial fans form when those sediments are washed down mountainsides then spread out once they hit the base of the mountain, filling the basin with soil that once covered summits and slopes. Broad and fan shaped, alluvium is typically deposited at the mouth of canyons. The finer-grained particles spread out farther from the mountain and can hold water better than the coarser sediment, supporting plant life such as creosote bush and bunch grass, while cacti cling to the bare slopes above.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: A Desert Shrub

Swollen with water from winter storms, the ocotillo sprouts its waxy little leaves all over the many arms of its branches and attracts insects to its engorged, cracked, woody stems. Resembling a bunch of thorny dead sticks reaching toward the baking desert sun for most of the year, the ocotillo bursts into leaf and flower during the rainy season in the Sonoran Desert. Technically considered a shrub, the ocotillo can easily be mistaken for a cactus when it doesn't have its leaves or flowers thanks to the sharp spines that cover every inch of its multiple arms. It's during the wettest seasons of the year that its true colors shine, and what an incredible sight it is!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Silver Bell Mine

The Silver Bell Mine, pictured above, is one of a few old prospecting locations scattered throughout Joshua Tree National Park. Once used to extract gold, lead, and copper from the surrounding desert mountains, the mine reached its peak in 1917 and was eventually abandoned in the 1960's. Reports from the height of gold fever showed the mine had low gold value, but rather high copper value - worth about $90 a ton.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Palm Tree Oasis

Palm trees and cottonwoods are not exactly what you might expect to see in one of the driest deserts in the country, but it's no mirage. Surrounding a natural spring, a dozen palm trees and a few hardy cottonwoods populated a small, sheltered depression located in the lower elevations of Joshua Tree National Park. Walking among the palm trees, allowed to grow wild and therefore unmaintained with their palm fronds still attached, was like walking into a jungle. Even in the winter the topmost fronds were vibrant green, and the soft bubbling of the hidden spring echoed through the small pocket of stone and wood. One of few natural springs in the area, the oasis attracts plants and animals alike who need the water to survive the harsh desert climate.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: The Ohio & Erie Canal, An East Coast Epic Story

No longer in use, the remnants of the Ohio & Erie Canal preserved in Cuyahoga Valley National Park, is an overgrown yet potent reminder of America's past. Once the main mode of the transportation of goods, livestock, and sometimes even people, canals throughout the upper Midwest and Great Lakes regions served their purpose in providing safe, accessible ways to move supplies in controllable fashion, without having to worry about the pitfalls or meandering direction of the local rivers. Locks strategically placed in intervals helped keep the canal levels steady, and special boats built to fit exactly within the confines of the narrow canal were towed along by mule teams on dry ground. It's rather startling to see how ingenious people can be if given enough time and motivation, and the canal system still around today stands in as proof of human tenacity.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: A Spot of Light, An East Coast Epic Story

Imagine going into a cave with a small, flickering source of light that may or may not burn out and leave you to scramble in the dark, hoping to find the way out . . . or else. Prehistoric Indians did just that as they explored Mammoth Cave, located in central Kentucky in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. They used the cave for shelter and as a source for minerals, gathering reeds from the nearby river, bundling them together, and hoping to have light for an hour or so. Of course, they brought multiple torches with them, but still! I love visiting caves, but I can't imagine going through one without a guaranteed source of light. Props to them!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Cholla Garden

Imagine my delight when, while driving the park road at Joshua Tree National Park as I was heading to lower (warmer) elevations, I rounded a curve in the road and was faced with a wide swath of cholla (choy-a) cacti! Labeled a Cholla Garden on the map, I'd noticed it when I first looked over the park information upon arrival, but I hadn't paid attention to where exactly this garden was, nor did I realize I was approaching it as I fled the higher elevation snow storms. I absolutely had to stop and wander the lined nature trail through the natural garden, full to bursting with cholla after cholla packed into a relatively large area. I definitely spent more time among the cacti here than I had spent outside my car in the entire rest of the park, but I was hardly complaining. I love cacti, and I'm always thrilled to see cacti gardens wherever I go. I even have a little cacti collection at home, started way back when my family and I first traveled to the desert southwest in 2001.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Blown Away

Before this winter I had never experienced the sensation of almost being blown off my feet, but I certainly experienced it during my visit to Joshua Tree National Park. I really honestly thought I might be blown off the mountain top with the force of the winds whipped up by the winter storm lashing the park, to the point where I was bent almost double trying to make myself as small as possible and brace against the wind. I had driven to the park's highest elevation reachable by vehicle out of curiosity and the desire to at least see where the park roads took me, even though I wouldn't be hiking. The winds were blocked by a pile of boulders in the parking lot, but once I'd cleared the boulders I had to stop to regain my footing as I almost got blown over. Needless to say, I only stayed on the mountain top long enough to note that I really couldn't see shit due to the snow storm, snapped a few pictures anyway, then hurried back down to my car as I was pushed along by the gale howling at my back. I couldn't get back to the warmth and stillness of my car fast enough.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Contact Zone

In the photo above we have the evidence of volcanic activity, earth upheaval, stream action, and erosion all in one place. The lighter rock was once magma buried deep within the earth. It pushed its way into the surrounding rock - the darker gneiss (pronounced nice) - where it solidified and crystallized into the granite we see today. Upheavals deep within the earth's crust forced the gneiss and granite to the surface, where a far wetter climate than what's present today cut the rock into a valley with a stream that carried sediment away. All of this occurring over millions of years, today showing us the contact zone where molten rock once met solid stone.

A Bit of a Letdown: Joshua Tree National Park

Disillusioned. Perhaps it was because it was cloudy, or maybe because it was snowing (in southern California!), or maybe because I was sleep-deprived, but regardless, my first impression of Joshua Tree National Park was lackluster. Maybe I had over hyped the park I've heard so much about as a premier place for rock climbing and camping and backcountry hiking, but when I actually got there I really didn't see what all the fuss was about. I mean sure, the miles and miles of paved and dirt roads were great to drive, the Joshua Trees were otherworldly, and you can never go wrong with dropping me into the middle of a desert, and while I can absolutely see why it deserves national park designation I just wasn't all that impressed. Is it possible to get travel burnout? Have I really been to so many places that one of the most visited national parks rates as just an "eh" on my list of natural wonders in the country?

I'm probably not being completely fair. I really was sleep-deprived, coming off of two days of manning aid stations at this year's Grandmasters Ultra race, both nights of which were spent shivering in blisteringly cold, windy conditions despite our best efforts to provide warmth for the runners and ourselves. I was also (still sort of am) struggling with my depression, and dealing with the letdown of my expectations for my February desert trip not being met. I had been so looking forward to the desert sun, for brilliant red rock canyons and towering mountains bathed in light and shadow. While I did get that (during the day) for the two days I was on the Arizona/Nevada/Utah border (a post for another time) both the drive to the area and the rest of the week afterward before I got home were plagued with winter storms, traffic-snarling blizzards, and overcast skies. I went out there for the sun, damn it!

It snowed the entire time I explored the upper elevations of Joshua Tree. Sometimes the snow was light and I took short walks through the desert plants, sometimes the snow was heavy and I sat in my car on the side of the road, pouting. I did make sure to drive the scenic dirt roads marked on the park map, and those ended up being my favorite parts of the visit. You all know how much I love to drive, and if I couldn't hike among the cracked granite boulders famous for their rock-climbing routes then at least I could see them from the warmth and comfort of my car. I mean, technically I could have hiked, but why would I purposely subject myself to being cold and wet and miserable when I was already grumpy with how my visit was going? If I'd done that I probably would have wound up with hypothermia and absolutely no desire to return to the park someday in the future when there's better weather.

As it was, I spent nearly the whole day in the park determined to see everything I could from my car because I had driven all the way out there and I am way more stubborn than what's probably good for me. The clouds cleared off a bit once I descended into the lower elevations, from the Mojave Desert into the Colorado Desert, though by the time I got there it was later in the afternoon and not much left to drive of the main park road. Don't get me wrong, the scenery was exactly what I'd been hoping for when planning my visit; rugged mountains lined with Joshua Tree forests, wide valleys filled with all sorts of my favorite cacti, sand-colored granite blocks as tall as skyscrapers, and a general lack of other people in the area because I purposely visited in the middle of the week (and also apparently during a winter snowstorm). Joshua Tree was beautiful and packed with the activities that would normally make me giddy and itching to get my hiking shoes on to explore, but I just wasn't feeling it this time around.

Someday, whenever I make my way into southern California again, I'll revisit Joshua Tree and give it a second chance. Someday I'll go back and there won't be a cloud in the sky and I'll soak up as much of that desert sun as I can handle (spoiler: it's a lot). Someday I'll hike as many miles of cacti-choked trails as I want, and maybe even do a bit of climbing while I'm at it. I'll keep dreaming until that someday comes.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Towpath Trail, An East Coast Epic Story

No longer in use as a towpath along the Ohio & Erie Canal in Cuyahoga Valley National Park, this  crushed limestone biking and walking trail through the center of the park offered an excellent way for me to spend a few hours exploring the heart of this park, located surprisingly close to Cleveland, Ohio. Although it was fairly busy, I still managed to find some solitude along the path, allowing me to take in the green tunnel of the trail, the grasses growing from the now-defunct canal threading parallel to the towpath, and, if I listened closely, the quiet rush of the little crooked river hidden beyond the trees.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Moonshine Questions, An East Coast Epic Story

Oh, the stereotypes of an abandoned moonshine still in the swamps of the deep south. For real though, spotting this gem of broken, sagging plywood while wandering the boardwalk at Congaree National Park brought the past to life in ways that just reading about the history of prohibition could not have achieved. How many people used this little still? Why did they choose a flood plain, swamped with water for most of the year, as a hiding place? What did they do in their day jobs, if any? Were they discovered, leading to the still being abandoned, or did prohibition finally end? So many questions, likely never to be answered. It's little details like this that make my travels so enriching, and keep me coming back for more.

2019 Wrap Up: It Was A Quiet Year

Muted. As far as travelling is concerned, it's been a quite year for me. I've been just exhausted this year, which has led me to choosing to stay home more often than not, spending my weekends, long weekends, and even longer breaks around holidays lounging around my house and yard. I have been able to get out and run, though, so I'm still spending plenty of time outdoors - on both streets and trails- so I'm not lacking in the sunshine department at least. I did manage to get a few trips in this year, so read on below for a recap:

I kicked off 2019 by taking a week-long vacation to the deserts of Arizona with my cat. Hoodoo and I volunteered at an ultra race along the borders of Arizona, Nevada, and Utah, then we took off on our own to explore the deserts for a few days before heading home. We saw quite a bit of Arizona on our trip, and are already looking forward to going back again in the new year.

We adopted a new dog, and I "had" to travel to pick him up from my friend/his foster mom in Oklahoma. Bullet is a gentle, incredibly affectionate shepherd and fits in with our family like he's always belonged. And yeah, seeing Julia and her family while picking him up was the icing on the cake.

Callie, Hoodoo, and I took a weekend in late March to run away and look for alligators, and to spend a night on the gulf coast. We found plenty of gators, and while Hoodoo didn't appreciate the wind off the gulf we still got in a gorgeous sunrise stroll along the coast.

Hoodoo's and my trip to White Sands National Monument (now National Park!!) was . . . not great. It began with a hot day and a spectacular sunset followed by a lovely and quiet sunrise, then devolved into chaos and whipping sand and a flying tent with its occupants (us) still in it. One terrified cat, shredded tent, and broken wrist later, I don't think I'll be visiting White Sands again for a while. It took me six weeks to physically heal, and probably way longer than that to get over the disappointment of that disaster of a trip.

Despite still being in a wrist brace I took off by myself for ten days of driving and travelling around the east coast on what might be my most epic driving adventure to date. I visited 24 states plus Washington D.C. in that amount of time, saw the borders of Canada and the Atlantic Ocean, hit a ton of state and national parks, and tent camped most of those nights. It was a much needed retreat from normal life, and one of my top adventures of the year.

For the second year in a row LeakyCon was hosted in Dallas, and for the second year in a row I got tickets! Eleven year old me would never have forgiven myself if I had the chance to see Tom Felton (who played Draco Malfoy in the Harry Potter films) in person, and I am thrilled that I went.

For the sixth year in a row Torrey and I headed to Colorado in August, where we spent a week hiking 14,000 foot mountains, camping, sight-seeing, soaking in hot springs, and attempting but failing to backpack in sand dunes (no more sand dunes for me for a while, dammit!) We also went to Pikes Peak for the Ascent and Marathon for the sixth time, with me once again acting as cheerleader. We've got 49 more 14'ers to hike, and I can't wait for the years and adventures to come.

In September Jared and I actually travelled together and spent a weekend on the Texas Gulf Coast celebrating a friend's beautiful wedding. Not only did I get Jared to travel, but I even got him to go swimming in the Gulf with me! Talk about miracles!

Another wedding, this time for my cousin, led me back to Nebraska in October, where I hung out with family and celebrated a couple's love by partying the night away. It was a super short trip for me, with really only a single day and night with my family before turning around and heading home, but it was all the sweeter for it.

A day trip in November when Torrey came down to my neck of the woods for a visit found us in gator country along the Texas coast, where we saw quite a few of these reptiles and also made a trip to see the gulf before heading home at sunset. A long day with many hours in the car, but good company makes the miles and hours fly by.

On a random Saturday in mid-November I was heading north to meet my dad somewhere in Oklahoma to exchange a precious package: the little kitten pictured above, now named Nova, had been hit by a car the week prior while on my way in to work. I found her, began her recovery, and proceeded to bombard my family with pictures and videos of the little kitten with a bobbed tail who just wouldn't give up. My sister decided she wanted her, so my dad and I met up halfway between our homes for lunch and to get Nova to her new family. It might be the craziest adventure I've ever had: driving 12 hours for a one-hour lunch and to exchange a cat, but who cares. Nova is happy and healthy and now I get to see her any time I visit! It's a win for everyone.

Again, it's actually been a pretty quiet year this year. I travelled the least amount this year since I started tracking back in 2014, and while it seemed like it was okay while it was happening I now wish I'd made a little more effort throughout the year. Of course, some things that prevented my travels were beyond my control, but there's always next year to be more enthusiastic. Anyway, the usual stats are below:

Adventures: 11
Hours: 986.86
Miles Driven: 18,298
Total Cost: $3,078.92
States Visited: 29 plus Washington D.C.
Hiked: 59.6 miles
State Parks Visited: 6
National Parks Visited: 9
National Monument Visited: 3
National Forests Visited: 3
Wilderness Areas Visited: 1
National Seashore: 1
Navajo Tribal Park: 1
Number of Nights Tent Camping: 12
Number of Nights Sleeping IN the Car: 8
Number of Nights Backpacking: 2
Number of Nights in a Hotel: 4
Number of Nights in a House: 10
Number of Nights in an RV: 2
Animal Companions: 31
Human Companions: 33 plus various wedding guests

2020 is a new year, a fresh start, and I may or may not already have all of my vacation time planned out for the whole year. I've got several week-long trips booked already, with the first one beginning in February in the deserts. I just know this year is going to be a good one, so goodbye to the adventures of 2019 and hello to the new ones of 2020!

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

Other than monarchs, I have never seen butterflies congregate in groups like the one pictured above until I visited Great Smoky Mountains National Park this last summer. Some kind of swallowtail, the beautiful black and blue wings of this butterfly caught my eye as they fluttered slowly while resting in the grass near several pull-outs in the park. I can hardly be blamed for thinking of fairy circles and little dances, though this photo was taken mid-morning instead of at midnight. I took far too many pictures of these groups of butterflies (called a kaleidoscope!) during the short time I spent at the park, but I am definitely not sorry.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Fire Scars, An East Coast Epic Story

Just over three years ago now Great Smoky Mountains National Park made national headlines as the country watched it burn. A fire started by a couple of idiot kids high on a mountain top burned thousands of acres, hundreds of buildings, leveled part of the park's eastern gateway town, and killed 14 people. My visit this past summer revealed a forest in the midst of healing. Some of the trails affected by the fire are still closed, and some of the charred skeletons of trees still stand, but the forest is regrowing, the burned areas fully green with smaller shrubs and grasses flourishing in the fire scars. I didn't have the time to get out and hike the area, but from afar the forest looked like it was making a comeback in the way only a forest can. Next time I'll get out among the trees and see how far the earth has healed.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Bear-Jam, An East Coast Epic Story

Countless cars stopped right on the road, people hanging out of their windows, some even out of their vehicles; if you've ever been in a national park, you know this sight very well, and you know exactly what it means: Animal Sighting. Now, don't get me wrong, I love a good animal sighting just as much as the next person. I may not get super excited about deer or elk anymore but I acknowledge there are people who've never seen one in person and I don't begrudge them their enthusiasm. I know there's nothing to do in these situations than to just sit back and be patient, turn the music up, and wait for the line to move. Yes, people really should use the pull-outs designed to keep traffic flowing around stopped vehicles, but those pull-outs are designed for only a handful of cars, not the multitude that travel park roads daily, and an animal sighting is going to cause a back-up regardless. The picture above was a traffic jam caused by a bear sighting off to the left in a grassy field. Unfortunately I arrived too late to see it, but I had to deal with the after effects as visitors returned to their cars. I would like it to be known, though, that no matter how excited you may be for a wildlife sighting it is never a good idea to leave your vehicle, especially if said wildlife is something that could seriously injure you (like a bear!). I managed to spot five bears during my short visit to Great Smoky Mountains National Park, but didn't get a single clear photo of any one of them. Next time, perhaps!

East Coast Epic: The Park of My Dreams

Euphoric. If I could designate a national park it would include miles and miles of curvy, winding roads with mountain views and forests that go on forever. I'd add a dash of history and a liberal sprinkling of wildlife. Of course, there would be hundreds of miles of hiking trails, so many that it would take a lifetime to complete them all, and I would make sure they were all connected so a visitor could pick their trail and length depending on how much they wanted to tackle. I'd make sure there were front country developed campgrounds and a healthy amount of backcountry campsites available for all camper skill sets, and maybe even a lodge because you never know where you might want to stay. Doesn't this park sound amazing? It turns out I don't have to designate anything, because Shenandoah National Park already exists.

Considering it's a part of the national parks system, Shenandoah has been on my list of places to see ASAP, but it's a bit of a drive for me to get there and so requires more than just a whim to go. My East Coast Epic seemed like the perfect opportunity to hit it up, and it was the very first park I planned to see when sitting down to map out a route a couple days before I left. Same as Niagara, I did minimal research about the park, merely confirming plenty of campgrounds and how to get there, so I really wasn't prepared for the sheer awesomeness that is a park dedicated to scenic drives. The park encompasses over a hundred miles of meandering mountain road that trails along an elevated ridge of the Blue Mountains, often the tallest peaks in the area. Expanding into the surrounding forests, a hundred-mile section of the Appalachian National Scenic Trail parallels the road and serves as a jumping point for (relatively) shorter hikes throughout the park. These shorter hikes take visitors to rocky overlooks and towering waterfalls, often starting right from overlooks along the road.

Apparently I visited during prime season, as a million wildflowers were in bloom in every clearing and meadow, with monarchs floating on every breeze. I spent most of an afternoon driving the park road, taking it easy at the park's 35 mph speed limit and enjoying life with my windows down. I got out to hike once that afternoon, strapping on my hiking shoes and hitting a trail that followed the AT to a junction, where I turned off to a rocky overlook called Stony Man. From there I headed to Big Meadows Campground and got myself a site for the night, complete with a bear locker and all. I looked, oh boy did I look, but I missed out on bears in the park and was so disappointed! Next time I'll see one!

I had no plans (theme. of. the. trip.) that evening, so once I set up camp I made my way on foot from the campground to Dark Hollow Falls. I connected my campsite to the Story of the Forest Trail, crossed the park road, and made my way down the Dark Hollow Falls Trail to the falls themselves. And what a set of waterfalls! It's been a while since I've hiked to a good set of forest falls, and these did not disappoint. 70 feet tall, water cascades down a series of rocky outcrops as the Rose River flows down the Blue Mountains. You can get right up to the base of the falls on the trail, close enough to feel the mist as the river plunges into its pool to continue on its way, and I more than enjoyed the spray as I rested at the foot of the falls.

I had quite a cute little encounter on my way back to camp as the sun set over the forest: skunks! Three little kits foraged right off the trail next to a stream, and I spent way longer than necessary taking pictures and videos of the cuties along with a few other hikers. We were never threatened by them, and one of them was brave enough to get quite close to us, though we backed up whenever it approached. They were absolutely adorable, and I was beside myself seeing them on the trail.

I finished my drive the next morning, making a point to stop at every single overlook along the park road. I was still in my wrist brace at this point, and though I didn't want to risk falling on a strenuous hike I was itching to get on a trail. I made plenty of notes about which trails I'd hike (all of them) the next time I visit, and spent a great deal of time unsuccessfully looking for bears every chance I got. The Blue Ridge Parkway extends from the park's southern border, though I was disappointed I wouldn't get to drive it this summer it is one of those iconic scenic drives that I will make sure to do within the next few years. This time, though, I was headed to a cave and wanted to be there early enough to snag a campsite. I left Shenandoah behind with the promise to myself and that park that I'd be back.

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

Created by wind and water, shallow bowls form among the dunes at Indiana Dunes National Park. If they're deep enough they can reach the water table, bringing fresh water to the surface and creating a little oasis away from the windy churning depths of Lake Michigan. These bowls, called a panne, house and shelter a variety of plant species that would otherwise find it difficult to grow on the dunes at the mercy of the winds, which in turn create excellent cover for small mammals to thrive. The panne I visited early in the morning of my visit to the park was almost perfectly still with only a little breeze ruffling the waters, despite the steady winds coming across the lake just over the lip of the bowl. Toads croaked from the shoreline and a couple of waterfowl rustled in the nearby reeds; the world waking up to a new day on the lake.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Shifting Dunes, An East Coast Epic Story

Anybody who's ever gone to a beach can tell you: sand moves. Anybody who's ever seen a field of sand dunes can tell you even better: sand moves a lot. It's one thing to know sand moves, but it's quite another to actually see the evidence right in front of you in the form of half-buried trees. These trees sprouted on fairly flat ground, but over time the sand dunes at Indiana Dunes National Park have shifted further inland, pushed by the winds across Lake Michigan, and are slowly burying the forest in front of them. Already trees are fully buried by the sands, making the dunes unstable when they rot and leave empty cavities that collapse without warning, causing more sand to shift. Dunes are active, flowing things, moving slowly but steadily one grain at a time. You just have to wait around long enough to see the proof yourself.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Indiana Dunes, An East Coast Epic Story

The first stop on my East Coast Epic was the nation's newest national park: Indiana Dunes. Actually, it was my second stop if you count an overnight at my parent's house to get my camping gear back from my sister and to celebrate the 4th of July, but Indiana Dunes was my first stop to camp, hike, and generally explore. Alone. For ten days. And let me tell you, it did not disappoint. Indiana Dunes is situated at the southern tip of Lake Michigan, close enough that you can see the silhouette of Chicago to the west on a clear day. The park preserves miles of beach and coastline, historic buildings, and you guessed it, sand dunes. Sand dunes seem to be a theme of my travels this year, but at least I didn't break my wrist this time. (My wrist was still in the brace when I set out on this adventure, and didn't come off until I was more than halfway finished.) But I digress; I arrived at the park in the evening and spent the rest of the daylight hours chasing photos. The next morning I was up early, determined to catch sunrise over the lake. Given that it was a holiday weekend during the summer I expected a lot more people on the beach early on, but aside from a couple of joggers and a grizzled fisherman, I was alone. It wasn't quiet, not with the wind and the waves and the occasional gull, but it was peaceful and an excellent start to my adventures. I couldn't wait to see what else was in store for me through the rest of the week travelling around the east coast.