Opposites do Attract

This excursion has sometimes been about opposites attracting; no, I don’t just mean the two of us!  When we were at Lone Pine in the Owens Valley of California, we happened to be camped a few miles from Mt Whitney, highest elevation in the 48 contiguous states.  The lowest point in the country is only a bit more than an hour’s drive to the east in Death Valley.  Many times we’ve been in dry, high desert only to discover lush green landscapes over the next ridge.  The past several days have, again, found us in a land of contrast.  Separated by a mere 35 miles, a state line, and time zones are two completely different National Parks. 

We camped at Guadalupe Mountains NP, site of the highest point in Texas.  It’s a dry landscape that happened to turn green while we camped because of heavy rains a few days before our arrival.  We hiked the trail up to Guadalupe peak along with scores of other day trippers from El Paso, Las Cruces and places in the southwest.  It’s a six to eight hour roundtrip climbing to the 8,700 foot top and back, totaling 8.4 miles of “moderate” hiking.  Pleased to report we, who are not in the least climbers of this caliber, made it to within 700 feet (elevation) of the top.  We calculated the time necessary for us to finish and get back to camp and found we’d be to our “tiny home” after dark…. not good.  For us, a hike of 6.4 miles climbing more than 2,500 feet of elevation and returning alive, with all joints and such in working condition is a victory; not to mention a challenge to return one day and conquer the peak!!!

Now the contrast.  We visited Carlsbad Caverns NP, a half-hour drive crossing the New Mexico border and the Mountain Time Zone.  Unpretentious in appearance, the visitor center beckons from atop a ridge of 300 or so feet in height.  We showed our Access Pass (one of several easily available for free admission to NP’s) and reserved space on two tours for the day.  The first was called the King’s Palace and takes you to caverns different from those in the general Big Room, which we also enjoyed seeing between our tours.  We were told to meet our guide in an area at the bottom of the elevator… 750 feet down, more than 400 feet below the floor of the desert we had just driven over to get here.  Thankfully they are fast; I have to admit to more than a touch of claustrophobia.  We stopped at the bottom seconds before the scream escaped.  The door opened to a darkened, cool lobby with concessions and seating spread around.  The tour was a good one with our Ranger, Josh, joking and educating us on a myriad of facts surrounding the geology and time involved to create the amazing things our eyes beheld… like Carl Sagan and his “billions and billions”.  I was just glad they were big spaces!

The second tour was called the Left Hand Tunnel; innocent enough name.  Lee, our Ranger guide for this one, met us back up in the visitor center (another fast ride up, thankfully) and really “made my day” by handing me a lantern with a single stub of a candle in it.  His and Diane’s were both loaded with a full, 6 inches of wax and wick.  Mentioning this, Lee chuckled and said “It’s fine, that one will last at least three hours.”  The walk was to last half as long.  Diane and I were surprised and a bit nervous to be the only two on this tour; which could prove an advantage.  There would only be two witnesses to my hyperventilating, screaming and clawing to get out of the dark.  Seeing the cave by light of a single candle brings you back to what the first visitors experienced with kerosene lanterns; I like that.  Truthfully, I recommend everyone take this tour; you get into a cavern rarely traveled and have many up close and personal contacts with the unbelievable features of Carlsbad.

Before leaving the Park, we experienced the “Bat Flight”.  Even without Michael Keaton, Christian Bale or even Adam West, this is not to be missed.  The sun was setting, shadows were just covering the Natural Entrance to the cave and a Ranger was speaking about bats (did I mention my phobia about winged mice).  As if on que first one, then another few, then a rush of bats… hundreds and thousands of them, came out in a swirl (counter clockwise to be precise, no one knows why) and continued into the gloaming sky for more than an hour.  Watching them flying, evading the attacks of an opportunistic Red Tailed Hawk, was a thrill.  At least that’s what I’ll credit with the chill bumps up and down my spine.  The perfect ending to a great visit to just one of the 59 National Parks we are blessed with.

Now we are approaching the middle of Texas; limitless horizons, no trees and plenty of room for this guy to stretch his arms wide and let go a heartfelt “Yippee”… I’ll let the locals finish with the “Kiii Yaay”.

Who says Arizona deserts are dry?

What might the odds be of traveling 4,500 miles through the western United States before finding a “real thunderstorm”?  Diane and I have now been through the Dakotas, Montana, Idaho, Washington, usually wet Oregon, California, and were finally poured on by Mother Nature in the Sonora Desert outside Tucson, Arizona.  In a trailer, heavy rains and hail sound like being inside a popcorn popper, only louder (though that’s by conjecture).  Oh, and we experienced another hailstorm (in the sunshine) up in the amazing rock formations of Chiricahua National Monument, near tiny Willcox, AZ.  By the way, did you know Wyatt Earp’s brother, Warren, was killed in Willcox following the shootout at the OK Corral in Tombstone?  Amazing what nuggets of history are out lying around, waiting to be rediscovered.

Yesterday was a day of exploring after a long 440 mile trek from San Diego (we have no plans of duplicating that drive, unless we have to cross Nebraska).  We visited Saguaro National Park in the early morning, seeing a coyote, deer, and numerous birds enjoying the fresh water coursing down the hills.  It’s easier to understand flash floods after a rainy night like we had.  In the afternoon we drove to Willcox and toured Chiricahua and its unbelievable geology.  Pictures can never capture the immensity and balance of these columns and spires.  Jaw dropping views are around every corner; Diane commented it was like hitting the fall colors from New Hampshire all the way home to Minnesota a couple of years ago.  Every turn brought up the camera with another “That’s worth a picture”.  I’m just happy we have digital photography now; Kodak processing would have made a killing on us!

We are now at that point in a trip when the maps are showing us closer to home, rather than further.  We’ve still got a couple of thousand miles to go, as we meander through New Mexico, Texas and points north.  Our original estimate of 5,000 miles will be off by quite a bit; none of the extra ones wasted.  The country we’ve seen and the folks we’ve met will give us memories to cherish for time to come.

The next few days will reveal whether I can watch “The Martian” while in Roswell, New Mexico (I think that will be a blast, others say I need to get off the road awhile).

San Diego "The Land of Ahhh's"

Ahhhh, San Diego.  Despite controversy surrounding the meaning of its name (see “Anchorman”), the city is still a beautiful one.  Diane and I arrived here yesterday; staying at the Santa Fe RV Campground which is sandwiched between I-5 and the Amtrak commuter line running north.  Though not entirely akin to the sound of a burbling stream or the waves on a beach, the constant drone of traffic does become somewhat melodic.  We jumped right in the pool and caught an hour of Southern California sunshine after getting “The Whealhouse” set up; then headed to visit friends, Charles and Donna, for the evening after swinging by our old house – they must have watered it well, it sure grew in the past 25 years.

Today we continued our sojourn of sorts; driving to an even earlier habitat location in Ocean Beach…. “OB” to those who’ve lived there.  It’s just not the same without the original “Spaceman of OB” walking on Newport Avenue and hipsters replacing so many hippies we remember.  I suppose time moves on.  We walked out the OB pier and chatted with fishermen not having much luck.  Sand is being scooped and pushed into giant berms along the beach in preparation for El Nino and winter storms.  We managed to split a Hodad’s double bacon cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate malt…. they used to go down so much easier.  Five hours later and I’m still not hungry (a far cry from a Chinese buffet).  Don’t misunderstand; Hodad’s is still a “top ten” place to grab food in San Diego.  The line was twenty or thirty appetites long minutes before the door opened.  We sat at the bar looking out toward “The Black”; a still in operation head shop dating to the late 60’s.

Following lunch we drove through Mission Beach and headed to PB… ok, Pacific Beach to you novices.  We strolled to the end of the Crystal Pier and had a pic taken of us in front of the Capri by the Sea, our first night’s honeymoon stay some 36 years ago.  Then we headed up the hill to Kate Sessions Park, the location of our wedding vows; though today the weather was far from the sun, clouds and sail boats on Mission Bay for a background.  A group of “twenty somethings” found it fun to take our picture where we were married before any of them were born.  One thing I noticed was how many people here have dogs; there seems to be pooches everywhere.  Tons of folks were out today, enjoying a much cooler and cloudy day than has been the norm this summer and fall.  The drought out here is noticeable and a sprinkle today was welcome.  Tonight… more visiting of family and swinging by familiar sites from long ago. 

We’ve driven some 4,000 miles to get to this point; when we leave San Diego we’ll be heading in a generally homeward direction (east and north).  We still have many places to go and some friends to visit along the way.  I’m sure, as well, that we’ll be meeting many new faces around campfires and on hiking trails before the Midwest looms in the windshield.  One favor please; keep autumn around long enough for us to get back.

The Beauty of California

How do you capture an entire week filled with some of the most beautiful landscape and wonderful people?  This worked for Diane and me.  First, we traveled through the foothills of the Sierra mountain range, finding places like Calaveras County (think Mark Twain).  We camped one night at a reservoir campground run by the BLM (Bureau of Land Management).  This place was amazing; campsites for over 160 RV’s (there were a total of five there the night we stayed).  The stars we gazed at in lieu of a fire (caused by the severe drought) were not hidden by ambient light from any nearby cities.  We were unaware that within a mile or so was the cabin Mark Twain lived in while experiencing jumping frogs and the gold rush of 1849.  The next day we made it to Yosemite National Park; an unequalled “Oh, my….” kind of place (that’s what you say each time you look up).  One evening’s campfire at the “Whealhouse” was attended by a National Park volunteer named Al (who has worked all over the country), a couple from Wales, Cherry and Rufus (last visit to the US was in the late 60’s – and, yes, they remembered it) and a young lady named Sarah, enjoying some travel before settling down (recently graduated from Harvard).  The next day we met a young couple from Switzerland, traveling with their 18 month old daughter, and a Navy couple from San Diego, Greg and Erin.  That evening’s fire was every bit as enjoyable as the first.

Diane and I agree that Yosemite is, without doubt, our favorite National Park.  John Muir called it “God’s Tabernacle” and was right on.  Huge trees, majestic granite, gushing waterfalls (though the tap was turned off this year) and great wildlife – even apart from the campfires.  Our drive through the Tuolumne Meadows and Tioga Pass (elevation 9945) yesterday began another day of amazement as we drove down the Owens Valley and stumbled upon Manzanar , one of the relocation camps in WW2 used to hold 10,000 Japanese (most of whom were US citizens at the time).  A humbling place and a must see to get a perspective on what can happen when a government acts before thinking.  We ended the day at Lone Pine Campground at the foot of Mt Whitney, tallest mountain in the 48 states.  Our living room never has looked better than early this morning with the sun coming up over the hills separating us from Death Valley.  It’s amazing to be within a couple hour’s drive from the highest and lowest points in the US. 

I know I didn’t intend this to become a “travel brochure”, but our trip has shown us incredible beauty in our country (which we’d hoped would happen)… we’re 4,000 miles into the drive and we’re halfway at this point!!!  The next few days are beside a lovely lake in southern California (Lake Skinner) where it’s currently 98 above!!!  San Diego beckons next week before we turn the “Whealhouse” toward the east, sort of…

Oregon - Land of Ups and Downs

Gorgeous mountains and streams to forest covered valleys to wide sunny beaches.  The Columbia Gorge with uncountable salmon migrating, to eagles, hawks and flocks of geese.  This is Oregon…. so goes the travel ads.  This is truly beautiful country, filled with very nice people.  A couple of things to mention; sort of an attempt to “level the field” so to speak.  Goat head stickers and Ash White Flies would be a good start.  These little suckers will terrify your toes into never accepting flip-flops again and the flies make conversation difficult outside in the evening.  On average, all things considered, Oregon is a great place.

We were delayed in Portland a couple of days, waiting for parts to repair the truck.  Getting to see way more traffic than desired was not a high point, but staying with good friends more than made up for it.  Yesterday, we headed the tiny home southward and skipped down I-5 directly, to make up some of the lost time.  As we stopped in Roseburg (OR) for a deli lunch, we were informed of the shooting at the local community college only moments before.  We saw numerous sheriff and police units go by and the radio was filled with preliminary reports, not knowing exactly what had happened. 

We stopped last night near Medford (OR) in a lovely state park along the Rogue River.  The trees here were decorated with Oregon Duck colors.  This is the capital of Goat head stickers, where intruders are promptly skewered and sent away hopping onto more of the little devils.  I’m just glad we didn’t find them along with the White Flies back in Portland… not being to walk or breathe might be discouraging.  I think both of these were designed by the “Let’s keep Oregon for Oregonians” League or some similar institution; you know, the “They” everyone speaks of when conspiracy theories come up in conversation.

Oregon was great, overall; a couple of minor pests in a land full of beauty and wonder.  OK, California, show us your best this week…  I’ll pass on the worst.