A Snapshot and The Scoop: Wrong Side of the Barrier

You know that sinking feeling in your stomach when you realize things are just not going your way? Yeah, that's how I felt when I realized I was on the wrong side of this road block when trying to leave Chiricahua National Monument as I fled a brewing blizzard in the higher elevations of the park. Fleeing snow storms seemed to be the theme of this year's winter trip, despite the fact that I was in the desert for crying out loud, and aren't deserts supposed to get little to no precipitation??? I had been exploring the scenic monument road which took me to elevations above 9000 feet within the park, but I didn't even get out of my car at the top - I took one look at the inches of snow already on the ground and one glance up to the tops of the towering pine trees that I couldn't even see, and hightailed it (safely) back down. I passed a ranger going up while I was all but crawling down the slick mountain roads, and although I didn't know it at the time they were checking for guests and presumably kicking us out due to the storm. I was the only one stupid enough to be up there in the snow, though I was on my way down, so they followed some ways behind me. I thought for sure they'd locked this gate and I would have to wait for them before I could leave, but closer inspection showed me it wasn't chained and I could push it open to get through. I closed it behind me, of course, though I doubt anyone else would try to go up the mountain in a blizzard. Ah well, you live and you learn.

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.

Chiricahua

Curiosity and ambition are the two main motivating factors that drive my travels. I have a huge goal to visit every unit of the national park system, and that combined with a general lack of tight schedules while traveling leave me with ample opportunity to stop at roadside attractions on a whim. These same factors compel me to drive every scenic byway marked on a map (because I still use paper maps, especially due to my tendency to visit places with little to no cell service), which is why I found myself heading to Chiricahua National Monument in southeastern Arizona on my way home from a week in the desert.

I hadn't been quite ready to return home, though I wasn't actively looking for ways to stall, and once the little green square on the map caught my attention I knew I'd be checking it out. I'd never heard of Chiricauhua, though I suppose that's not too difficult to believe considering it's a ways away from basically every major transportation corridor in the area. I didn't mind the distraction, and turned off at the appropriate exit to make my way across rolling plains deep in a valley between rugged desert mountain ranges. This little national monument lies nestled at the foot of one of these mountain ranges, and my approach was overshadowed by a looming storm. At lower elevations the precipitation was rain, though as I climbed up into the mountains by way of the two-lane monument drive the rain turned to sleet. It was a mixture of sleet and snow by the time I reached the visitors center, and full on snowing when I left the building a few minutes later.

Chiricahua is a place where five of the seven "life zones" in the northern hemisphere are stacked on top of each other in the space of a few miles, defined by differences in elevation, moisture, soil, and sun exposure. Starting at the lowest elevations we see the Lower Sonoran Zone characterized by bare patches of earth sprinkled with thorny desert plants, followed by the Upper Sonoran, Transition, Canadian, and finally the Hudsonian Zone above 9000 feet, where spruce, fir, and aspens thrive. Microhabitats are everywhere, catering to a multitude of species that otherwise would never converge here. Mountain-dwelling bears share the area with desert tortoises, deer are everywhere, and there are more birds in this location than nearly anywhere else in the Sonoran Desert.

One species I didn't see as I made my way up the scenic drive was humans. I didn't see a single other person as I drove, winding through canyons and along mountainside cliffs to the road's end at the summit, though hindsight shows that was probably due to the storm that was intensifying in the higher elevations of the park. The snow was heavier at the top, several inches already laying in dripping sheets over the parking lot and picnic tables that supposedly showcased unrivaled views of the valley below. During my visit I could barely see the tops of the ponderosas next to me, let alone the valley bottom, and I didn't linger at the top for long. I had no desire to take a tumble down the mountainside on my way back down along the increasingly slick road, and threw my car into the lowest gear possible in order to keep it under control. I left none too soon - they closed the park road just after I left.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Musings on a Human Tendency, An East Coast Epic Story

Once a paved road along 15 miles of Assateague Island, a few crumbling concrete slabs are all that remains of Baltimore Boulevard. Built in the 50's and destroyed by a northeaster in 1962. A short hike among the seashore dunes takes you to a bit of this road, where you can see for yourself the devastating power of the ocean in a fury. Is it ever a good idea to build so close to a powerful, nearly unstoppable force of nature? Why is it human tendency to push boundaries and attempt the impossible? Of course, the park would be completely inaccessible to all without a boat and perhaps an ATV without a few paved roads, but what cost comes with trying to maintain permanent structures on something as fleeting as a barrier island? Visit the park and perhaps you'll find answers there.

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: 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.

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: Vermilion Cliffs

A short trip down a snowy dirt road was not nearly enough to satisfy my curiosity about Vermilion Cliffs National Monument in northern Arizona, but it'll have to do for now. I will definitely need a 4-wheel drive vehicle the next time I want to explore this enormous monument on the Utah/Arizona border, but on this day in February I drove as far as I was comfortable along that road until the snow drifts encroached on the road, then turned around. I did get the chance to step out of the car at a couple of pull-outs, though! Did you know California Condors aren't just native to California? Some can be found in Arizona, like the ones reintroduced to the Vermilion Cliffs area. These birds are huge, eclipsing all other birds of prey found in North America. I even got the chance to see a couple, but that's for a later post!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: A Stretch, Even For Me

I am fully aware that I do some rather unconventional things, especially when it comes to traveling, and I typically don't bat an eye. In this particular instance, though, even I couldn't help but think that I was being more than a little crazy. It was snowing, as it had been off and on after I crossed central New Mexico on my way to Nevada to meet up with Torrey and volunteer at the Grandmaster Ultras race this February. I was driving down some back highway just west of the Arizona/New Mexico border, going way slower than the speed limit due to icy roads and gusty winds, when I couldn't help but notice the ground essentially fall away from both shoulders of the road. I realized I was driving on a ridge surrounded by canyonlands and badlands shrouded in mists and snow as far as the horizon, and it wasn't long before I was looking for a place to pull over. I was slammed by the wind as soon as I popped out of my car, running over to the side with the best view as I brought my camera up to my face with shivering limbs. I know I looked like an idiot, standing in below freezing temperatures on the side of the road with snow whipping around me in gusts that rose up one side of the ridge and descended the other, shivering as I tried to take pictures. One nice guy even stopped to make sure I was alright, and when I explained I was taking pictures (in the snow storm) he just slowly nodded and continued on his way, no doubt shaking his head at my antics. I have no excuse except to say what did you expect? It's me, after all.

Leave me a comment and tell me if you've ever done something like stop on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere just to take a picture in a snow storm. Anybody?

A Snapshot and The Scoop: A Cursed Place - or - The Second Time My Car Died (While Traveling)

I don't really believe in curses. Except that sometimes, maybe I do. I'm inclined to believe in bad vibes, at the very least, when it comes to being near Page, Arizona. The first time I was passing through Page I had to stay at a hotel where not one but two different rooms' bathrooms had plumbing issues. I was cold, exhausted, and recovering from the flu (sick while traveling, yuck) and in the end decided to say screw it and go without a shower. Okay, not so bad, right? First world problems and all that, nothing that would make me put Page on my black list of places I won't return to. The second time I was near Page I was travelling with my sister on our way to the Grand Canyon. We'd been sightseeing along the road and stopped at an overlook to get a view of the desert from a plateau. We weren't even out of the car for five minutes, and when we returned it wouldn't start. You can read about that whole issue here. This time around, I was passing through the area at sunset on a rather cold and windy February evening and decided I was finally going to make the trek to the Horseshoe Bend overlook, 3/4 of a mile round trip from a dusty parking lot brimming with other vehicles and a line-up of port-a-potties. I took Hoodoo with me as we made the short walk, saw the Colorado River far below, watched the sun set beyond the distant mountains, and walked back to the car. Which wouldn't start. Because of course it wouldn't. By the time I looked around I was the last one in the parking lot and felt panic constrict my chest as I considered that it was likely nobody would come by until morning. Fortunately by some miracle I had cell service (thank you, Verizon) and was able to call my husband, but what was he going to do to help me, so many hundreds of miles away? Then I noticed construction lights and all but ran to wave down a couple of guys for help. They jumped the car and pointed me in the direction of Page, two miles down the road. I barely held back tears of relief when my car started and I made it to the closest Walmart. Their auto department was closing but the gentleman was kind enough to stay late and help me determine the problem, then purchase and change out the battery while I shivered in the desert's winter night. By the way, this was a whole new car, different from the one whose battery had died last time. My car ordeal only delayed me by an hour or so (I was on my way to meet up with Torrey in Mesquite, NV), but it definitely has me thinking twice about traveling near Page again. I will anyway because that area is a hotbed of desert recreation and I'm a sucker for those red rock canyons, but the next time I go anywhere near Page I'll be sure to time my arrival in broad daylight with a full tank of gas, other emergency necessities, and might even wear a good luck charm or two. Just to be safe. Anybody got a talisman I could borrow?

Leave me a comment and tell me about any place where you seem to keep running into bad luck. It doesn't even need to be while traveling; is there a cafe you avoid, or a road you won't turn down?

Fifth Annual Father-Daughter Trip

Relaxed. Starting back in 2014, along with my desire to travel, my dad and I began taking Father-Daughter trips once a year. Sometimes we were accompanied by my sister and others, but at the core it was for us. Dad has a goal of visiting each of the five hundred plus historical markers in the state of Nebraska scattered throughout ninety-three counties, and every time we get a chance we hit the road on our quest to see them all. I thought maybe moving to Texas might mean the end of our travels, but I've been pleasantly surprised to find that's not the case. This past spring (ok, late winter in Nebraska) Dad and I took to the bluff country in extreme western Nebraska, searching for historical markers among the state's national monuments dedicated to the Great Western Trails.

Bluff country butts up agains the sandhills, and for anyone who thinks Nebraska is flat you're wrong. Well, partially wrong. Yes, Nebraska is flat if you keep to the I-80 corridor, but if you get off the interstate and head north you'll find a landscape of rolling prairie and sandstone bluffs that rise out of the grasses like the backs of giant sea creatures. The sandhills are my favorite place to visit in Nebraska, and I was more than happy to go with Dad as we scoured them for historical markers. Our quest brought us down some pretty obscure Nebraskan roads to some pretty obscure Nebraskan Monuments, but hey, "Honestly, it's not for everyone."

What's not for everyone? What about the fossil quarries laden with ice age bone and ash deposits at Agate Fossil Beds National Monument? What about the Oregon and California Trails that pass through the state's Scotts Bluff National Monument, rich with pioneering history? Don't get me wrong, I got out of Nebraska as soon as I had the chance because I always knew I would leave the state, but that doesn't mean I don't like to visit. And not just because my family is there. Nebraska boasts a neat assortment of state and historical parks, and a small handful of national monuments, that are well worth the effort of leaving the interstate to go explore. And that's exactly what Dad and I do every time we get a few days to run away to continue tracking down historical markers.

We might have cheated a little bit and drove up the 800 foot tall Scotts Bluff instead of hiking the trail to the top, but on a chilly winter/spring day, driving seemed like the more prudent option. The views of the prairie grasses and the ridge of bluffs receeding past the Wyoming border into the distance are something you wouldn't get if Nebraska really was flat, and I couldn't help but be a little awed at what lay around us. As the gateway to the more rugged mountain country in Wyoming, western Nebraska was a stop for many on the pioneer trails as they prepared for mountain conditions, and as such their trails, camps, and forts litter the area around the bluffs. The bluffs themselves were used as landmarks, breaking up the monotony of the plains.

One such landmark, a rather famous one if you were raised in Nebraska, is Chimney Rock. In my experince with my travels just about every state has a "Chimney Rock", but there is only one true rendition of this rock, and it resides in western Nebraksa. Dad's and my fifth Father-Daughter trip wouldn't have been complete without a stop at the state historical park protecting Chimney Rock, as well as no less than four historical markers near its location. Chimney Rock wasn't our last marker on our trip, but Dad and I began heading home after our visit to the park. I think we only have two or three areas of historical markers left to get, and then we'll have to find something else to do for our annual trips!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Schafer's Trail

Do you see the smooth white line that runs down the middle of the picture, and then trace the line coming out of the lower left corner along the edge of that thousand foot cliff? Yeah, that's Schafer's Trail, a dirt road that takes you from the top of Canyonlands National Park Island in the Sky District all the way down to the Colorado River near Moab, Utah. The road itself if bumpy and not one to take if you're afraid of heights, but it is one of the easiest ways to get into the belly of Canyonlands National Park. It joins up with the White Rim Road, a hundred mile route around the white rim (you can see it in  this picture, the road leads to it), which sits a thousand feet below the top of the mesa, yet also a thousand feet above the Colorado and Green Rivers. Never do I wish for a four-wheel drive vehicle as when I see this road! Some day!