After nine months of deliberation, we bought a SylvanSport GO camper with this road trip in mind. Which meant we needed a trailer hitch, or better yet, a new car with a trailer hitch. (Sorry minivan, you were good to us!) We loaded everything we’d need for 13 days into large Rubbermaid storage tubs and set our gaze westward.

Day 1 — Starved Rock State Park, Oglesby, IL

While researching this trip, I came across an article that opined Starved Rock State Park might be worth a visit. None of us had ever been, and it was kinda-sorta in the direction we needed to go. A short 3-1/2 hours later we were setting up camp.

Starved Rock sits on the southern bank of the Illinois River, which during our visit, was quite swollen and had submerged most of the lower parking lot and riverside picnic areas. Park staff indicated it had been this way for several months. There are many canyons to explore — St. Louis Canyon is off the beaten path and we had the place to ourselves for a time. When you’re standing underneath a 80-foot waterfall, even a dreary, rainy day won’t dampen your spirits.

The campground sits outside of the main park area and does not have a store to buy firewood. We did find firewood from a nearby local who had cobbled together a makeshift camp store. More importantly, he suggested visiting Matthiessen State Park to get away from the crowds and mosquitoes. Another camper suggested kayaking the Vermillion River. Both ideas have been filed away for future trips. The kids had a great time exploring, finding a nearby raccoon den with baby cubs and more slugs than we could count.

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Days 2 & 3 — Washington, IA

All play and no work makes for a boring vacation. Hrm... maybe I have that backwards? Anyhow, Washington is home to my Mom and Premier1Supplies, a long-time client of Rare Bird. Under drizzly skies we packed up camp and headed for Iowa. As we drove, the heat and humidity ratcheted to new levels. By the time we arrived in Iowa it was a veritable sauna. Fresh from our sweat bath, we decided to try John’s Shamrock BBQ in nearby Ainsworth. I enjoy eating locally whenever possible and the Shamrock did not disappoint. Dirk loved it so much he added BBQ ribs to his favorite foods list. Unfortunately for me, this list also includes steamed crab legs. The kid is getting expensive!

I worked at Premier on Friday while the rest of the family visited Washington’s public swimming pool. The kids reported that it was “Amazing!” and “Super-fun!”, except for the mandatory swim test, which Dirk remains disgruntled about.

Days 4 & 5 — Eugene T. Mahoney State Park, Ashland, NE

Our next stop was Mahoney State Park, roughly half-way between Omaha and Lincoln. Melanie’s side of the family had scheduled their annual reunion in Nebraska, a first for the Springers.

I suppose Mahoney State Park is technically a park. It says so on the sign. It’s outside and there are a few nature trails (overgrown) that overlook the Platte River. But, traveler beware! This is not a place of solitude with an absence of human activity. Quite the opposite. It feels more like Central Park in New York City than a rustic natural setting in rural Nebraska. It was a sunny summer weekend, so perhaps the crowds were exceptionally high. Once my expectations were reset, I was able to better enjoy the park and it’s many amenities. The on-site melodrama was a hoot, and the swimming pool, while crowded, had something for everyone. This would be a good place to bring bicycles as there are paved paths between destinations. I didn’t notice the disc golf course until the end of our stay, but it looked really nice, too.

We pitched the GO in the Little Creek Campground. The sites are cramped, freight trains run through every 1/2 hour and the road noise from I-80 ceaselessly reverberates. If you must camp here, I recommend sites #26 or #27. They are larger than most of the others, more wooded and further away from neighboring sites. The bathhouse was clean with vending machines and even a laundromat. Yet another midsummer rain shower made breaking camp soggier than desired.

Day 6 — Smith Falls State Park, Valentine, NE

Now we’re getting nowhere. Finally! I was dreading the drive through Nebraska, but this turned out to be my favorite part of the trip. Imagine the Sahara Desert, then cover the sand dunes in scrubby grassland plants. Add a few hundred-thousand cattle and the occasional windmill. Finally, snake a single two-lane road through an area that is 20,000 square miles and you begin to get the picture. Shadows of Gus and Call’s epic cattle drive blurred my vision.*

At the northeastern edge of this expanse lies Smith Falls State Park and Nebraska’s tallest waterfall. Not only is this waterfall 60-feet tall, it’s fed from the Ogallala aquifer which surfaces throughout the Sandhills to create shallow lakes and cascading waterfalls along the Niobrara River. If Mahoney State Park is at one end of the back-to-nature spectrum, then Smith Falls State Park is at the opposite. It’s small and out of the way, but worth the visit. There is a single hiking trail that didn’t appear to get much use.

The campground is fairly open and geared towards tent campers. There were five sites which allowed a small camper. It was only 20% occupied on the night we were there. I get the sense that people visit the park to see the waterfall and leave, or as a stop-over on a multi-day river trip. I’d like to return one day with kayaks and paddle the Niobrara — what we saw of it was quite scenic.

Days 7, 8 and 9 — Custer State Park, Custer, SD

The Black Hills is many things to many different people. To some it provides a welcome escape into a cool pine forest ripe for exploration. To others it is a web of single lane byways that is best experienced on two wheels. Still others will come for the classic tourist destinations: Mt. Rushmore, Devils Tower, Deadwood, Sturgis and Custer State Park to name only a few.

We opted to camp for a few days in Custer State Park. This park is nestled in the heart of the Black Hills and provided us with a central base camp in a natural setting. After setting up the GO at quite possibly my favorite campsite of the trip (Sylvan Lake campground site #23), we set off to explore the Sunday Gulch Trail. After a series of blasé trails in Nebraska, this footpath set the table for the grandeur ahead.

We hadn’t even made it back to our campsite, when whom should we meet but the Sears family! Actually, this wasn’t happenstance; we had made arrangements for our paths to cross and were looking forward to spending a few days together. We hiked around Sylvan Lake, Little Devils Towers and the Cathedral Spires, but the highlight had to be the sing-a-long chuckwagon dinner with Bullhead. This is a glorified version of a hayride while singing campy songs like Home on the Range and My Brother Eats Bugs. The event culminated with a steak dinner and hoedown in the middle of the prairie.

We awoke to another cloudless blue sky and seized the opportunity to jump in Sylvan Lake before the summer crowds arrived. Then, we left to explore the surrounding area: Mt. Rushmore, Sturgis, Devils Tower in Wyoming, and Spearfish Canyon. The plan was to regroup with the Sears in Deadwood for an honest-to-goodness rodeo, complete with bull riding, calf roping and barrel racing.

Days 10 and 11 — Badlands National Park, Interior, SD

We said goodbye to the Sears and headed for Badlands National Park, the first stop on our return trip home. We had barely made it 20 minutes east of Rapid City when temperatures began to climb and the pines, so plentiful in the Black Hills, became fewer and far between. Rocky buttes began to dot the horizon until finally, an alien landscape emerged. We arrived in Scenic, a dusty town adjacent the southeastern edge of the park, home to 58 inhabitants, a saloon, and a jail. We had a few hours so we decided to explore Sheep Mountain Table. To get there required a long drive along a lonely, high-clearance road. I considered camping atop the plateau, but spending the rest of the afternoon under a scorching sun was quickly vetoed. Plus, I promised everyone that we could stay in a cabin so they could take a shower that wasn’t on a timer.

Highway 44 to Interior, SD is not especially scenic, but it is a pleasant drive none-the-less. Seemingly endless prairies in all directions give the area an infinite feel. Closer to Interior, the landscape changes dramatically. I’ve not yet been to the moon, but I do believe that Badlands National Park offers the closest thing to it on earth. We checked in, enjoyed a hot meal at the lodge, and set off to watch the sun set over the Notch Trail. We were warned that it often rained heavily on summer nights as the scorching heat gave way to violent lightning storms. Sure enough, as dusk approached, so did the billowy storm clouds.

The next morning the ominous clouds had scattered and the sun returned with renewed vigor. We decided to hike a longer trail before it become too hot; the Castle Trail could be combined with the Medicine Root Trail to make a 6-mile loop. I suggest you take even more water than you think you’ll use. I suspect it was the hot, dry air, because we were rationing our water about half-way through the hike and I was sure that we had taken more than enough. Exhausted, we made it back to our car around noon.

Day 12 — The long road home.

Our plan called for an unhurried trip home. We’d depart the Badlands via Highway 240 and make our way to Wall Drug for lunch. (If you’re on the fence about visiting Wall Drug, don’t go. Imagine the gift shop at Cracker Barrel, then imagine 20 of those together in one place but all still separate rooms. I couldn’t wait to leave.) Our next stop was The World’s Only Corn Palace in Mitchell, SD. This, as it turns out, is worth a short visit. As night fell, we’d end up somewhere around Sioux Falls where we would have our pick of interstate hotel chains.

It was at this moment, 8pm while sitting in a Holiday Inn Express parking lot, that I realized even the best-laid plans go awry. Turns out the 75th running of the Sturgis motorcycle rally was to begin in two days. The expectation was that 1-million riders from all corners of the nation would make their way to South Dakota. And they needed somewhere to stay. And that somewhere was every hotel within a 500 mile radius. We started frantically calling for a room all with the same result, “Sorry. We’re booked.” We finally found one room in Rochester, 250-miles away. Our unhurried trip home suddenly became very hurried. We made it to Minnesota in the wee hours of the morning and grinded back to Indiana the following (same) day. Pippen sure was glad to see us!

* Consider reading Lonesome Dove written by Larry McMurtry. This Pulitzer Prize-winning epic western novel won't disappoint.

“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.”

I got the backpacking bug a few years ago while on a backcountry trip in Alaska. My friend Chad went on that trip, so I figured he’d be up for another go round. We talked it over and decided to invite a few others. Next, we had to decide where to go and when our schedules might align for a long weekend. Deciding where to go was the easy part — Zion National Park was on everyone’s short list. But when to go? A preposterously difficult decision. As luck would have it, Darren would be in Las Vegas on a business trip in late April. Could we piggy-back a trip to Utah onto his itinerary? We didn’t hit the jackpot, but at least four of us could make it work.

With an agreed upon destination and date, the planning kicked into high-gear. My retirement dream-job is to work as a ranger/interpreter/guide at a big park somewhere. Might as well see if I’m cut out for that now, right? I charted a 25-mile point-to-point backcountry route on the park’s western side that would require three days. We’d wander through four diverse biomes: Desert, riparian, woodlands, and coniferous forest. We’d start high (6,369-ft), climb higher (7,133-ft), and then descend to 4,272-ft by the time we reached Zion Canyon.

The next step was to reserve flights, a hotel in Las Vegas, a rental car, backcountry permits, campgrounds, and a shuttle to the trailhead. Getting wilderness permit “reservations” online can be a little frantic. Reservations can be made three months in advance starting on the fifth day of every month at 10:00 am Mountain Time. Our trip crossed over two months, so this caused a bit of anxiety; I didn’t want to book flights without being sure we could get the permits we needed. The park office was sympathetic to my plight, but unwavering. So, I applied a bit of magic-dust from my day job at Rare Bird, and wrote a browser script to auto-fill the entire reservation application in a single click. It must have worked because I was able to secure the reservation at exactly 10:00 am Mountain Time. (I checked 30 minutes later and 90% of the online reservations were taken!)

I’m a fairly tolerant eater. Meaning I’ll eat pretty much anything. I happen to know that two of the four are just the opposite. How could we build a meal plan that everyone would be happy with? Fortunately, I had a few ideas and three months to try them out. I decided to use my family as guinea pigs on a camping trip to the Great Smoky Mountains. Nobody has fallen over dead from these recipes, so I figured it was safe enough to use them again. For evening meals, we made grilled pepperoni pitas one night, and bacon jerky macaroni the other. I think both were well received. Breakfast was a hodge-podge of shelf-stable sausage and powdered eggs. (Not as bad as you might think!) Lunches consisted of mini-bagel deli meat sandwiches the first day and PB&J sandwiches after that. We filled in the gaps with high-calorie snacks and nuts. By the time we wandered into Springdale, we were ready for beer and burgers. Our friendly shuttle driver recommended Oscars, which lived up to expectations.

Day 0 - Las Vegas

We caught an evening flight to Las Vegas, but with the time zone change we had just enough time for a grocery run. And, an hour or two of blackjack and craps, of course. Turns out there was a big event going on — the boxing match of the century, or something like that. And, while the city had not yet reached it’s climax, the crescendo was palpable. Nevermind that we had to leave at 5:30 am to catch our shuttle to the trailhead. Needless to say, nobody got a lot sleep. This would become a recurring theme.

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Day 1 - Hop Valley trailhead to the Northgate Peaks

Our schedule out of Las Vegas started with the tolerance of Swiss watch:

See, ZNP decided this would be the year they would rebuild the Kolob Terrace Road; the only route to our trailhead. A brief window was open from noon to 1 pm. Miss it and you might not get through until after 6 pm. We also had to allow enough time for the shuttle driver to return via the same one-lane road during the same window. Somehow, someway, we absolutely nailed this schedule, and by 12:30 pm we said goodbye to Hayley from the Zion Adventure Company as she dropped us off and drove away.

There was nothing to do but start walking. Within the hour we had seen our first snake (not poisonous) among rolling hills leading to deep canyons in the far distance. We passed through wide expanses of desert sage and valleys of ponderosa pines. A rocky outcropping at the bottom of a dry wash provided a welcome break and the first of many cat-nap opportunities for Chad. The rest of us scrambled up the base of Pine Mountain and marveled at the peculiar rock formations.

Shortly after getting back on the trail we encountered another hiker. I didn’t get his name — I’ll call him Wyatt because his handlebar mustache belonged to another era. The fact that he was carrying a 14-point mule deer rack just added to his aura. Wyatt was a local, and suggested that we could go off-trail south of the Northgate Peaks to find water and dangle our feet over the edge of what he declared, “some awesome shit.” Sounded great, we were already thinking of camping in that general area. What could possibly go wrong?

For starters, on the map, the western peak looks tiny. Like something you could circumnavigate in 30 minutes. Even staring straight at it, you’re left thinking 45 minutes, tops. Wrong. An hour later we were only half-way around, bruised and scraped, and wondering if we missed a turn. After another 30 minutes we finally found the water pools we were looking for — all but evaporated in the desert sun. Good thing the sun wasn’t setting. Oh, wait.

We sent Chad up a 45° degree incline in search of something flat enough to pitch our tents on. He found a couple of choice spots in a shady grove of pines within an arm-length of the vertical walls of the western peak. We cooked on a nearby ledge of exposed rock overlooking the Great West Canyon. We even found a suspect water source nearby. In retrospect, I wish I hadn’t used this water since it clogged up my filter to the extent that Hans and Franz could now use the pump as a training device.

Day 2 - Northgate Peaks to the West Rim (Campsite #6)

A new environment and new roommates made for another sleepless night, but at least everyone got an hour or two of sleep. We still had to bushwhack our way back to a proper trail, so after a round of coffee and breakfast we headed out through dense sage hoping that the hidden rattlesnakes didn’t like humans. We followed dry creek beds until we found a game trail that led us to a larger trail which ascended back to the peaks overlook. We never did find the elusive feet-dangling utopia. Maybe next time.

From here we had a 5-mile walk along the picturesque Wildcat Canyon trail to our first official water source. We passed through a scenic section of dense forest that felt like it belonged in the Pacific Northwest rather than Southern Utah. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the water source at Wildcat Canyon was smaller than I thought it might be. Chad must have felt this way too, so he scouted ahead just to be sure we weren’t missing a bigger pool. He was back inside of 10 minutes and reported that there was in fact a larger pool further down the trail. Darren and I packed up to use that source. 20 minutes later we reached the head of Wildcat Canyon. It was bone dry. Confused, we thought it must be just ahead. After another 10 minutes we still hadn’t found it, so we dropped our packs and back-tracked. We found Chad and Matt just finishing up next to a hidden pool we both had walked right past. “Hey, where did you guys go?” fell on deaf ears.

A quick aside: Refilling water after being empty offers both an extremely high and low feeling. You’re euphoric that you've extended your life until the next source. But, you’re dejected the moment you buckle your pack and realize that 5-liters of water weighs 11-pounds.

Our next human encounter was with a couple of park rangers. I didn’t get names here either, so I’m going with Ranger #1 and Ranger #2. Ranger #1 was on top of her game. She was friendly with an air of authority. She did ask us to show our permits, but she also provided a few points of local knowledge: How far to Lava Point? (Far.) Is it worth the climb up? (No.) Is there water at Sawmill Springs. (A trickle.) It’s amazing there is any water at all on the plateau. (An observation.) You’ll love your campsite on the West Rim. (A promise.)

Horse Pasture Plateau serves up a mix of desert scrub with a few junipers and Ponderosa pines scattered about. The area was ravaged by fire in 2009 and charred stumps are dispersed throughout the landscape. This terrain continues south from the Wildcat Canyon/Lava Point junction for 3-miles before a shocking vista presents itself, seemingly out of nowhere. Literally, breathtaking. Darren and I were first to arrive and were still picking up our chins when Chad and Matt rolled around the corner. Then we relived it once again through their reaction. I have no idea why this overlook isn’t marked on the map! It should be on all of the promotional material that ZNP produces. The South Guardian Angel is positioned perfectly amongst the towering walls of the Great West Canyon. If a single shaft of sunlight were to hit the mountain, I would have told you that Mount Sinai was in Utah.

It was hard to move on from this place, but we still had a few more miles to go before we reached our campsite. We passed through scenic Potato Hollow before arriving at the first of three “humps” the ranger warned us about. For the record, a “hump” in Utah would pass as Mt. Everest in Indiana. Campsite #6 sits high atop the West Rim with nearby overlooks north to Horse Pasture Plateau and west to Phantom Valley. Trail weary after 13-miles, we just sat. Finally, under a setting sun and rising moon, we made camp and then dinner.

Day 3 - West Rim to The Grotto (Zion Canyon)

In theory, our third day was supposed to be the easiest. The majority of the trail was downhill, and we didn’t need to log double-digit miles. But, the long hike to the campsite the previous day had us running low on water and sacrifices had to be made. No coffee (yikes!) and no milk for cereal. We divvied up our remaining water (1/2-liter each) and hoped that we could hold out until the next spring, 3.2-miles away.

We made it to the spring on empty and refilled our water with a number of other hikers. Cabin Springs sits high above Telephone Canyon. A scant 20-feet from the spring, a cliff drops precipitously at least 500-ft straight down. Darren thought it would be a good idea to perch over the edge and take a photograph. He wasn’t going to get any help from us, so if he wanted that photo, it would need to be a selfie. Turns out my camera wouldn’t have been much help anyhow. Somewhere between the top of the West Rim and Telephone Canyon, the memory card became dislodged. The camera was going through the motions of taking pictures, but they weren’t being saved. I’m really sick about it, however these scenes will live on in my memory.

We loaded up on another 5-liters of water and set out on the last leg of our trek, south towards the canyon floor. But first, we would be passing by Angels Landing — one of two quintessential hikes in the park. The original plan called for a day hike of Angels Landing on Day 4, but after realizing we would have to retrace 2.4-miles of switchbacks climbing 1,500-ft just to get to it, we opted to squeeze it in on our way down. Angels Landing did not disappoint. This majestic rock spire juts into Zion Canyon with panoramic 360° views from the summit. Support chains are anchored into the rock face for the last half-mile to the top. Steep does not describe this trail. Harrowing comes closer, but still isn’t the right word. It simply must be experienced. Go!

I’m still recovering from the aches of hiking down Walter’s Wiggles with 35-lb packs. My feet were on the cusp of blistering before the descent. By the time we reached the bottom, they were doomed. We had a few hours of daylight left, and our agenda called for a shower, making camp, and dinner. Not necessarily in that order. It was hard not to notice the Virgin River meandering a 100-yards from our trail. Shower… check. Freshly bathed, we sent Darren for the car, while we checked into Watchman Campground and set up our tents for the final time. Then, it was off to Springdale for some grub.

Day 4 - The Narrows (day hike)

With Angels Landing checked off of our bucket lists, we had just enough time left for one more legendary hike. The Narrows follows the Virgin River upstream from the Temple of Sinawava for 16-miles. Typically, the hiking season on this trail is only in the summer and autumn due to the high water levels from the winter snows. But this year, drought conditions have allowed the trail to remain open. We didn’t have time for a complete trip to the top, but we pushed as far as we could before turning around to catch our red-eye flight back to Indianapolis. Should I ever come back, this hike will be at the top of my list.

With our batteries recharged, we returned to Las Vegas to catch our flight home. This time, Las Vegas was winding down from the Mayweather/Pacquiao bout, and the airport was extremely congested. An hour wait on the tarmac made for an even later arrival.

Overall, I wish we would have seen more wildlife in the backcountry — we only saw a few snakes and lizards. It wasn’t until we were amongst the throngs of park visitors in the main canyon that we began to see bigger animals like mule deer. I have unscientifically concluded that it must be easier to take the food from humans, rather than forage. I would highly recommend Zion National Park to anyone. The scale, biodiversity, and beauty of the park are unmatched. Jules Renard had the right of it when he said, “On Earth there is no Heaven, but there are pieces of it.” I found a few pieces in Zion.

* We have conflicting GPS and FitBit data with regards to the exact miles walked and number of steps taken. One thing is for certain. My body aches like I walked 107,174 steps and 30-miles, so that’s what I’m going with. After backpacking in Alaska and now Utah, I’ve learned that one mile west of the Mississippi does not equate to one mile east of it. Strange, but true.

We headed for Brevard, North Carolina, where each GO is crafted by the outdoor-loving folks at SylvanSport. My expectations going into this were pretty high. I wanted something that we'd use often, was easy to setup, and could be used to haul an overabundance of gear (kayaks, bikes, packs, etc.). The GO is exceptionally simple, but don't be fooled; everything seems to have been designed with a purpose and built using high quality materials. After a thorough orientation at the factory, we headed for the Cataloochee Valley in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park to try it out.

I must admit that I found the idea of towing a bit intimidating. I'm not sure why, because it's not really all that bad. Our compact SUV was able to accelerate normally and we could achieve interstate speeds without a problem. You can definitely tell you're pulling something -- there is a tugging sensation over bumps, but soon enough you'll become accustomed to it. Changing lanes in traffic takes a bit more planning, and you'll need wider turns and larger parking spots at stopovers. Our gas milage on the return trip was 1-mpg less than the trip out. Overall, towing is nothing to worry about, but I still can't shake the feeling that I'm being tailgated.

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The moment of truth came at the campground when we had to set up without the safety net of our friendly orienter. As it happens, the hardest part was figuring out where we wanted our door to open. One person can unhitch and move the GO around the campsite, but it was more cumbersome than I imagined it would be. (The tongue weight is 70-lbs.) Leveling can be tweaked a bit with the four stabilizer jacks in each corner. The included awning creates a cozy space and provides some protection from the sun and rain. From travel mode to camp mode, we were able to completely set up in about 30 minutes. I'm sure we'll get faster over time.

Speaking of rain, what would camping be without a downpour? We had just settled in around the campfire when thunder started rolling across the valley. It rained heavily the entire night, but inside the GO, we stayed dry. The middle table configuration was a big hit -- good for a card or board game while it was raining outside. The tent trapped more heat than I expected a single-wall material to retain, and I did notice a fair amount of condensation build-up in the mornings. Hopefully it won't be too hot in the summer months.

The new day ushered in sunshine, and after breakfast we set out to explore the hiking trails in the area. We hadn't gone very far before we saw an elk bull feeding in the forest. He was positively giant in comparison to the white-tailed deer we're used to seeing in Indiana. The Cataloochee Valley was popular with the early settlers and several historic buildings still remain. One of the more curious remnants are the hand-built stone walls along the Boogerman Loop Trail. Imagine life as a homesteader in the late 19th century! The trail runs alongside the Caldwell Fork with many footbridges; some in better condition than others. A singular regret from our Alaskan backpacking trip a few years ago is that I never got to do a proper river crossing. Who knew the Great Smoky Mountains would present not one, but three, opportunities?! Cheers to the person who invented quick-dry fabric!

We packed up the GO and headed for home along the windiest mountain road I've ever driven. Mt. Sterling Road follows an old Cherokee trail and was the first wagon road in the Smokies. Apparently the park system didn't consider the "Old Cataloochee Turnpike" worth paving, or perhaps a single lane dirt road with blind curves is meant to be a traffic deterrent? To provide temporary relief from the white-knuckle driving, we decided to climb Mount Sterling, a 6 mile out-and-back with 2,000-ft elevation gain. We cobbled together lunch at the summit and hiked down in double-time. You know that moment where your kids can do something better than you can? Yeah, that. I could not have matched Greta's pace on this hike. We headed for home trail weary, but already looking ahead to our next adventure. We can't wait to take the GO on the road this summer when we head for the Black Hills, South Dakota.

If you find yourself near Indianapolis and want to check out the GO in person, get in touch. It was helpful for us to see it before deciding to buy one for ourselves.

For 2015, I wanted to go somewhere we hadn't been before. It's hard to find new places to explore in Indiana, but I'd heard about a couple of off-the-beaten-path nature preserves near the small town of Attica.

Portland Arch Nature Preserve was the larger of the two parks we visited. What a hidden gem! Here, a pristine creek runs through a wooded valley flanked by massive sandstone cliffs. We had a great time exploring the frozen landscape. The almost fluorescent green moss provided a stark contrast to the barren winter browns. I've read that the presence of moss and lichens is an indicator of good air quality. After a few deep breaths, I can attest to this.

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A short drive from the Portland Arch we found the Fall Creek Gorge Nature Preserve. The frozen ice here made the initial stream crossing quite treacherous. Swirling water has eroded the bedrock into a series of "potholes", which over time, have created a unique topology. A short footpath leads to a waterfall at the head of the gorge where I was unable to convince the kids to take a polar plunge. Maybe next time.

I don't have much additional narrative about this trip, just photos. In a few of them, an eerie light was cast by a (partial) solar eclipse – which was a lot of fun to shoot in. We enjoyed hanging at the beach, around town, and generally doing a lot of nothing. It's this last bit that was especially refreshing. We had a great time with a great family! Somehow we ended up with a couple of hermit crabs on the return trip. Sadly, one didn't make it back to Indiana. The other however, is still alive and well.

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07/03/2014 2:30 PM – Cagles Mill Lake to Lower Cataract Falls

We set out for Cagles Mills Lake under blue skies and low humidity – a welcome respite from the sticky weather that has settled upon central Indiana for the last couple of weeks. Since we have only two kayaks, but four people in our family, the plan was for the girls to paddle roughly four miles to Lower Cataract Falls where we would meet up and switch roles. Mel and Greta put in at the Cunot Boat Ramp and had a tail-wind to the Highway 42 bridge. From there, the water level was high enough in Mill Creek for flat-water paddling.

Meanwhile, Dirk and I headed for Cataract Falls SRA via Cunot-Cataract Road. We explored the Upper Falls and the covered bridge. We also hiked an overgrown nature trail that ran along the creek. The path quickly deteriorated and forced us to turn back after a losing battle with stinging nettle. We then headed to the Lower Falls parking lot to wait for the girls. A short trail leads down to the water from the parking area to where Mel and Greta were waiting on a sandbar.

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Mid-summer in Indiana means daylight until 10p and we were treated with golden light and long shadows on the return trip. We paddled by several great blue herons and an immature bald eagle. The sunlight bouncing off of the arch bridge over Cagles Mills Lake was spectacular. 2-1/2 hours later, we were back where we started. We loaded up our yaks and headed for the next leg of our adventure.

07/04/2014 – Brown County State Park

Even though it was last-minute, we were able to get a couple of sites in the campground at Brown Country State Park. Our friends were set to join us for a day of hiking, bicycling, and horseback-riding around the park. All of the kids with one exception could ride their own horse unassisted. Just the excuse I was looking for! I could hang with Ellie-Kate while everyone else got their equine fix. Afterwards, we cooked up a hearty campfire meal and headed into nearby Nashville for the community fireworks show.

07/05/2014 4:30 PM – South Fork Salt Creek @ Elkinsville

I've been to some rural places in Indiana, but this one might top the list. 5-miles southwest of Story lies the sleepy community of Elkinsville. Our group of nine was looking for a lazy spot to paddle near Brown County State Park, where we had set up camp. Unfortunately, we did not find it on the south fork of Salt Creek. Instead we found a secluded, stagnant tributary. I'm not suggesting this wasn't scenic, or that I wouldn't come back under different circumstances. But for a larger group that includes kids, other rivers would be a better fit. There aren't any rocky sandbars to take out for breaks, and swimming is a non-starter given the clarity of the water.

We put in at the west end of Combs Road and paddled downstream for about 90 minutes before heading back to the starting point. To maintain interest, we crafted a train by attaching all of the boats end-to-end with towropes. The "engines" got a good workout, if nothing else.

Our kids were on Spring Break from school and so it was that we found ourselves in western North Carolina, just a short drive from the fabled Appalachian Trail. The plan was to hike a 2-day, 1-night section along the North Carolina and Tennessee border from Carvers Gap to US Highway 19E. I had done some preliminary research and discovered that the Mountain Harbour B&B in Roan Mountain, TN offered a shuttle service and hostel for AT hikers. We could park our car, hitch a ride to the gap, and hike back to the car so we didn't have to retrace our steps. This section of trail was especially noted for its picturesque balds and mostly downhill elevation profile. A desired quality considering we planned to drag our kids along.

For early April, the weather outlook was good. After a fantastic breakfast, we said our goodbyes and headed out under blue skies and a warming sun. My Dad agreed to see us off, so we caravanned to Tennessee. The blue skies quickly changed to gray, which quickly changed again to snowy white as we gained elevation. By the time we reached Roan Mountain, TN, it was positively scary -- the snow wasn't falling down, it was blowing horizontally. Even though we had prepared for inclement weather, it was apparent that it would be negligent to willfully take our kids up the mountain with a mandatory 15-mile hike to the nearest town. We decided to stop at Mountain Harbour for some local knowledge. Turns out they had been busy performing rescues for AT hikers all morning. They had brought several groups out and recently noted that the road up to Carvers Gap had iced over. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize we'd be crazy to attempt it -- especially with young kids. In the end, wisdom prevailed and we decided to try again the next day. The local forecast was calling for an abrupt end to the blizzard and pleasant temps for the remainder of the week.

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Dad continued on to Indiana and we decided to explore the local area. We made a brief visit to nearby Linville Carverns and were led through the caves by a most uninspiring tour guide whose only comprehensible sentence was, "Does anyone have any questions?" Soon after, the weather broke and gifted us with a winter wonderland -- the rare kind that can only be seen in those fleeting moments before nature reverses course and erodes the very scene it so painstakingly created. We still had a few hours before sunset, so we drove up to Carvers Gap to scout. We were blown-away by two things: 1.) The incredible beauty of wind-driven snow plastered to every surface, and 2.) The wind. We were literally blown-away. We could not stand up straight. Backpacking in these conditions would be miserable, not to mention dangerous. We went to bed hoping tomorrow would be better.

We awoke to gray skies and little wind. After a hearty breakfast we packed our gear and were shuttled to Carvers Gap to try again. The sun peeked out on the drive and we arrived to discover that much of the snow had melted overnight. What a difference! We unloaded and were soon left to fend for ourselves.

The first part of the trail winds through a natural Fraser Fir forest. John Fraser discovered and named the species in this exact area in the late 1700's. After a too-short trek through the fir forest, we were exposed to our first of four grassy balds. How and why a summit develops into a grassy bald is curiously unknown.

We passed through another historically interesting area near the well-maintained Overmountain Shelter. The area was used by the Overmountain Men in the American Revolutionary War where they crossed the mountain at Yellow Mountain Gap.

We camped for the night in a grassy area on the leeward side of Little Hump Mountain. What a view -- both at sunset and sunrise! The wind whipped up again during the night so our plan for pancakes was postponed. Starting the stove would have required a bit more fortitude and I was anxious to get moving. We needed to make it back to Indiana as I had to work the next morning.

(Big) Hump Mountain was the last rigorous climb on the route. It was all downhill from the summit. Six miles of downhill. Our quads took a beating, but we grinded it out and arrived at US Highway 19E at about 3:30pm. I slack-packed another .3 miles west to Mountain Harbour to get the car. Mel and I witnessed true deliriousness on the drive home. For 45 minutes, the kids literally could not stop giggling at the most dull things. For example, "Did you see that car? It was red." This mundane observation was followed by 5 minutes of uncontrollable laughter, and then the process repeated itself. Then, as if a switch was flipped, they completely zonked out. Greta was still holding a drink in one hand and a half-used napkin in the other. Dirk was her mirror opposite. Hopefully, they aren't permanently scarred by the experience.

Several general AT trail observations in no particular order:

1. The footpath is often several inches, and in some cases a full foot, lower than the surrounding flora. I can only assume that it has been worn down by decades of use.
2. We enjoyed meeting all of the thru-hikers we came across. (A thru-hiker is attempting the entire length of the trail in a single year. It's roughly 2,180 miles from Georgia to Maine.) We encountered several, and the kids enjoyed learning their trail names. Of course, we had to adopt our own trail names. Dirk quickly became "Topple" -- he face-planted into the mud more than once. Greta is "Cruise", Mel is "Slide", and I'm "Kodak".
3. Waterproof shoes are an absolute must-have. Even though it wasn't raining, we did encounter more than enough mud to go around. Everyone had good shoes except for Dirk (age 7). We didn't see the point in spending a bunch of money on something so temporary. We improvised and used plastic baggies from Subway over his socks. This worked pretty well.
4. Water sources were plentiful, but often not on the beaten path. Plan to walk a few extra miles on side trails to retrieve water. I'm not sure if this is true of the entire AT, or just this section.
5. Kids need to use the bathroom. A lot. Not surprisingly, there aren't any facilities. We should have practiced this more ahead of time.

What to do? Mel's good friend, Sarah, raised the bar pretty high by inviting us along on her 40th birthday trip to the Alaskan backcountry. We enjoyed this greatly and hoped Sarah and her husband Chad could be part of any birthday plan for Melanie. So, a trip, but where to? Mel indicated in veiled conversations that she'd be interested in going somewhere warm -- this winter has been particularly biting. Another requirement was not sleeping on the ground.

We're a pretty active group. Lounging at a beach is good for an afternoon, but we could hike for days and be even more content. Especially hiking to places off the beaten path with vantages not likely to be gained without moderate effort. I do some work for Arizona Highways magazine, so I have no shortage of inspiration. Sedona and Tucson both sounded promising. The L'Auberge de Sedona looked really nice and was in the heart of uptown Sedona. Sold!

Next, instead of a boring birthday card, I wanted to up the ante and create a photo book with memories and photos from 40 of her closest friends. This was much harder than I thought it would be! I received all sorts of things: Photos, hand-written notes, flyers, illustrations, and even a complete page layout. I took stock of everything, semi-organized it sequentially, and transformed it into spiral-bound booklet she was sure to love.

Finally, I planned an impromptu surprise party to spring all of this on her. I'd take her to dinner while the kids covertly decorated the house.

On the day of Mel's birthday, I unremarkably intoned that I'd pick her up at 6 o'clock and left for work. So far so good. As the day wore on, the weather went from bad to worse; freezing rain, sleet and snow all conspired against me. A 20-minute drive to dinner turned into an hour. Party guests outside of a 5-mile radius couldn't be expected to brave the conditions. The good news? We had the restaurant to ourselves. We ordered and I presented the photo book. Bad idea. The waitress spent the next half-hour trying to decide if it was safe to visit our table because she couldn't be sure if Mel was crying from anger, or joy. The food was really good, but we took most of it home. The grand party I had planned turned into an intimate gathering with close friends and more pints of Graeter's ice-cream than we could consume.

Two weeks later we found ourselves on a plane bound for Phoenix where we rented a car for our drive to Sedona. The weather would again factor into our plans; instead of sunny and warm, the forecast called for buckets of rain. Let's look at the bright-side -- not everyone gets to see rain the desert! Over the next 24-hours, central Arizona would set the single-day record for rainfall. Good thing we bought all that rain gear we didn't use in Alaska. We didn't need to be in Sedona until later that evening, so we meandered down Highway 87 through the Tonto National Forest with a couple of strategic detours along the way.

The first stop was the Pine Creek Loop & Ballatine Trail. We walked a 3-mile loop through a native saguaro habitat. The size of these desert sentinels is impressive; we saw several over 40-feet tall. Our next stop was at the Tonto Natural Bridge State Park. This park may be small, but it makes up for it with some truly grand scenery. We were able to successfully navigate the canyon floor before scrambling up the slippery red rocks, just as the park was closing. We encountered another family as we were climbing out. They had at least one young child and a stroller which they had managed to get down the trail much further than I would have thought possible. We collectively arrived at the trailhead at roughly the same time only to discover that the gate had been closed and secured with a chain and padlock. The surrounding fence wasn't razor-wire, but it was a problem for a child in a stroller. I hopped the fence in search of a park ranger. I was almost to the ranger station when I began to hear hearty laughter echoing across the valley. The moral? One cannot always assume a closed padlock is actually locked.

I'd like to say the remaining drive to Sedona was uneventful. By this point, we were in the Mogollon Rim area which varies in elevation from 5,000-8,000-ft. The roads at this elevation are especially susceptible to freezing whenever there is precipitation. We encountered two overturned cars within 10-miles of one another, and we were the first car on the scene for the second crash. Miraculously for the driver, we'll call him "JC", the car flipped into perfect position on the uphill side of the mountain. The other side of the road featured a perilous drop-off. JC walked away without a scratch. We waited with him until the emergency responders arrived.

We arrived in Sedona, at last, and checked into the resort. Someone then decided that what we needed was to get wet. The pool and hot-tub was a short walk from our cottage. By now, those buckets of rain the forecasters predicted had turned into barrels. We donned our robes, put on our rain slickers, and headed to the pool.

By the morning, the rain had turned into a cold mist, which was a marked improvement. Chad was adamant that we attend a morning yoga session; when in Sedona, do as the Sedonans do. This was a new and strange experience for me. Can't say I'm eager to try it again, but I did enjoy the instructor's flute solo at the end. I had researched a few different day-hikes in the area and decided that Bear Mountain would be a good candidate. It was 6-miles round-trip -- 3 miles up and 3 miles down without any swollen creeks to wash us away. (Many of the photos are from this trail.) By the evening, the sun had peeked out. Hoping to see a grand sunset, we grabbed our headlamps and climbed nearby Doe Mountain. It wasn't to be, but we did get to use our headlamps for the hike down. Afterwards, we were in the mood for some southwest cuisine. A local recommended Oaxaca for dinner and we were not disappointed.

I had one more trick up my sleeve, and this surprise was for the whole group. I had booked us on an early morning hot-air balloon ride. The balloon company had been grounded for the previous three days, but I was hopeful the inclement weather would soon pass. In the morning, I slumbered onto the deck to check our fate and was greeted by the twinkle of early-morning stars and calm winds. Yes! We were picked up in the lobby by Red Rock Balloon Adventures and driven to the launch site. If you ever get the chance, a balloon ride in the desert southwest is a real treat.

After the balloon ride, we had time for one more trek. Many of the trails in the area were closed or impassable due to high water, so we stopped in at The Hike House to consult with the locals. A new trail system not yet on many maps was nearby and highly recommended. The Hangover Trail is a combination mountain bike (rated double black diamond) and foot trail. Typically, I don't like bike trails for hiking, but this one was an exception. In fact, if we hadn't seen it first-hand, I wouldn't have believed sections of this trail were even possible to bike on. We encountered a few different ecosystems all on the same loop. Munds Wagon trail follows the pine forest floor via a creek bed while the north side of Hangover is predominately in the shade with clumps of manzanita. The saddle area on Mitten Ridge is exposed red rock and breathtaking -- we could have stayed there all afternoon.

By nightfall, we were thoroughly exhausted and hungry. We grabbed a wood-fired pizza at the Sedona Pizza Company, where Mel orated a heart-felt toast. I have a hunch that this was the first of many informal valedictions yet to come. After dinner, we headed back to L'Auberge to get what little sleep we could before our early morning departure in Phoenix. As far as birthdays go, I'm off the hook for another 40 years!

“If you’re not up for experiencing the real Alaska and possible difficulties and discomfort that comes along with it, please take the cruise with the thousands of others that visit Alaska that way. We’ll all be much happier.”

In all seriousness, if you're reading this review and thinking about going on this trip, I can confirm that this is not a "van tour". Be prepared to put your body through some vigorous outdoor activity. Train as much as you can. The reward? You'll see one of the last rugged and unspoiled lands on our planet. Raw beauty and solitude is omnipresent.

We chose the "Extreme Week" expedition. This is a trip in three parts: Kayaking, glacier climbing, and backpacking. Glacier climbing is the most relaxing of the three -- more on that in a bit. Our communication with Exposure Alaska was primarily via email. About a week before the trip, we received an email stating when and where we were to meet our guide. I can remember standing outside the hotel at 8:30 am with several big questions: What if our guide doesn't show up? What if this was all a big scam? These fears were all unfounded. Joe showed up right on time, quickly stowed our bags, and we set out for the Prince William Sound Kayak Center in Whittier. This is a one-hour drive from Anchorage along a very scenic highway that runs alongside the Turnagain Arm of Cook Inlet.

Day 1 - Kayaking (Prince William Sound - Whittier)

After a high-tech gear check (Joe had a rocking PowerPoint cardboard sign), we were fitted into two-man fiberglass kayaks and sent to the Sound to fend for ourselves. I remember the sky was an impossible blue, salmon swam underfoot, and bald eagles soared overhead. I don't remember much else about those first couple of hours. The sense of wonderment was high, beauty was everywhere, and I had a mile-wide grin on my face the entire time.

We paddled 4 miles to Emerald Beach, had lunch, and watched the tide come in. Scott guided us on a little-known trail that had been built by Don and Tina, the owners of Exposure Alaska, when they worked for the forest service. We paddled another 5 miles and made camp at Decision Point. The beach and campsite here was first rate. There was a formal outhouse and boardwalks to protect the forest floor. Several of us remarked how the Alaskan rain forest looked like "The Shire" from Lord of the Rings. We learned how to bomb-proof a tent for wind, rain, and possibly a zombie apocalypse. I was "knot" familiar with several of the required knots. The "slip knot" and "taut-line hitch" should be pre-requisites on the gear checklist. Joe instructed us in boat aerobics while we demonstrated how not to wash dishes.

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Day 2 - Kayaking (Prince William Sound - Blackstone Bay)

As if 9 miles of paddling wasn't enough, Joe informed us that we were in for at least 16 miles on day 2. We had breakfast, packed up camp, and set out on a foggy morning. There is a quiet serenity in the fog. The surface of the water was like glass and as the fog lifted we were treated with views of distant glaciers glowing in the sunlight. We followed the coast south to Blackstone Bay. Waterfalls became more numerous, any one of which would be its own state park in the lower 48. We took a break at 13-mile beach where salmon were swimming in the brackish water formed by freshwater mixing with the salty seawater. A week later and the salmon will begin migrating upstream.

That afternoon we paddled up to the Beloit and Blackstone glaciers and were greeted with strong katabatic winds and floating ice chunks. We made camp under the Lawrence glacier, affectionately called "Larry" by our guides. Calving ice could be heard all night.

Day 3 - Kayaking (Prince William Sound - Blackstone Bay)

After a quick breakfast, we performed more boat aerobics and set out on a short day hike to Larry's terminus. Great views of Willard Island and several glaciers could be seen from our elevated vantage. We scrambled back down to the beach and paddled about 5 miles to 13-mile beach where we caught a water taxi back to Whittier and headed for Palmer where a hot shower was waiting at the Colony Inn. Along the way, we stopped at the Moose's Tooth Pub and Pizzeria to reacquaint ourselves with civilization. It was weird to see so many people after seeing so few for the previous three days.

Day 4 - Glacier Climbing (Matanuska Glacier)

Joe allowed us to have a real cup of coffee at Vagabond Blues, a local coffee shop, before we headed for the Matanuska Glacier. Day 4 was the most relaxing day for me. Glacier climbing is quite exhilarating, but it's done in fits and starts. Joe was in his element here and was able to belay us in all sorts of crevasses. We found glacier climbing easier than the indoor rock climbing we've done around Indianapolis. More leg strength is required, but less arm strength. The topography is ¾ alien landscape, and ¼ snow cone. We finished the day with a BBQ at "The Homestead", Don and Tina's place near King's River.

Day 5 - Backpacking - Chugach State Park

Well rested and fed, we headed for the South Fork Eagle River Trailhead in the Chugach State Park. Our Indiana training was about to pay-off -- or so we thought. The first 6 miles was relatively "easy" with fairly flat well-maintained trails along the valley floor with steep mountains on each side. We saw a grazing moose and passed through a mile-wide boulder field to arrive at picturesque Symphony Lake. Honestly, we could have stopped here for 3 days and it would have been one of the most beautiful hikes I've ever done. Joe had other plans. After a short break we were back at it, climbing through the tundra with every step sending us higher than the step before. We were shooting to make camp at Lower Symphony Tarn which was always "just ahead." 4-"Alaska miles" later we found it, and I was wrong. This was even better than stopping at Symphony Lake. We found a level spot on the tundra, pitched our tents, ate, and crashed. I'm not sure it was in that order.

Day 6 - Backpacking - Chugach State Park

With our shoulders still aching from kayaking and now our feet throbbing from a long hike, Joe announced that it was time to summit Triangle Peak. He actually told us this the day before, but after pointing the peak out to us, we thought he was joking. He wasn't. The good news was that we didn't need full packs because we'd be coming back to the same spot to camp. The bad news was that our Indiana training did not include a regimen of boulder hopping, talus scrambling, side-hill navigating, and ridge traversing. One wrong step would result in injury or worse. I remember hearing Joe's "guide voice" when a falling boulder was headed down the slope at our group. Somehow we made it and were rewarded with a spectacular view of the surrounding peaks, glaciers, and valleys. Our entire route was visible from this vantage. Going down is just as hard as going up. I'm fairly sure my bruises had bruises.

Up until this point, the weather could only be described as perfect. As this area of Alaska is normally shrouded in clouds and rain, we knew we were living on borrowed time. That evening brought gale-force winds, and by nightfall it was a tempest. Our tent spent more time collapsed than standing erect. Chad and Sarah even found time to remodel their tent during the night.

Day 7 - Backpacking - Chugach State Park

After a long night, we cleaned up camp and made ready for the hike out. We could have hiked back the way we came, but Joe isn't one to retrace his steps -- the plan was to hike along the ridge above camp and back to the trailhead. The wind might have died down to 20-mph at this point, but once we crested the ridge I'm confident it was closer to 50-mph. Even Joe "Bunyan" thought this might be a bit much so we started down the other side of the ridge in search of an alternate route. Turns out the alternate route was going to require a significant detour, so Joe huddled us up for a pep-talk. To recap: The plan was to hike back up to the forsaken ridge with perilous 1,000-ft drop-offs on both sides while lugging 30-lb packs and resume our original path. Did I mention that the wind was gusting 50-mph? Somehow, someway, we put one foot in front of the other and made it off that mountain.

We had a great time with everyone at Exposure Alaska -- cheers Don, Tina, Joe, Scott and Katie! Happy trails, until we meet again.

Here are the stats from Mel's FitBit for the week. (Kayaking is excluded because a pedometer can't really track that. We kayaked ~30 miles total.)

• 168,787 steps taken
• 77.91 miles walked
• 1,206 floors climbed
• 27,381 calories burned

Frequently Asked Questions:

Q.) What was the food like?

A.) Hot drinks (coffee, cocoa, tea) are plentiful in the morning and evening. Overall the food was great! My favorite was the smoked salmon bagels with Havarti cheese, avocado and cucumbers. Each day starts by filling a quart-sized Ziploc with candy bars, trail mix, mixed nuts, dried fruit, etc. Some other meals were:

• English muffins, reindeer sausage, scrambled eggs, salsa
• Penne pasta, brie, basil, tomatoes, cream sauce
• Penne pasta, pesto, pine nuts, olive oil
• Cream cheese stuffed blueberry pancakes
• Deli meat wraps with sun-dried tomatoes, hummus, swiss cheese
• Blueberry cheesecake made in a glacial stream
• Hiking meals were generally snacks (trail mix, PowerBars), cheese, crackers, and reindeer sausage

Q.) Will there be flush toilets anywhere?

A.) Not many. I remember modern plumbing only in Anchorage and Palmer. There will be an outhouse if you're lucky.

Q.) I've heard stories about man-eating mosquitoes. Is there any truth to this rumor?

A.) Everything you've heard is true. The mosquitoes are present and accounted for. Exposure Alaska does provide head nets. They work pretty well.

Q.) Should I bring shorts?

A.) Several times the weather was warm enough to warrant shorts. However, the mosquitoes will feast on you. Wear light-weight pants and long-sleeve shirts and convince someone else to wear shorts. Then they'll feast on them and not you. Do bring layers. In the span of a couple hours I remember going from a t-shirt to 4-layers (short-sleeve shirt, long-sleeve shirt, fleece, rain shell) and back to a t-shirt. Convertible pants are a good option.

Q.) Do I really need gloves for the kayaking portion?

A.) I used bicycle gloves and was glad I had them.

Q.) What time of year did you go?

A.) July 28 - August 3.

Q.) The title of this post references "Part 2." Where is "Part 1"?

A.) We went on a flightseeing tour of Denali National Park before our backcountry adventure started.

Mel and I were a little apprehensive about flying in a little plane. Chad, who was a pilot in a previous life, assured us it was safe. We also figured if the pilot had a problem, Chad could take over and get us back on solid ground. With that we set out from Anchorage in a 6-man seaplane. Fortunately our pilot did great, although the turbulent air on the return leg did make at least one cabin member a bit nauseous.

Taking off and landing on water is a thrill. Basically it turns Alaska into thousands of ready-made runways. The first leg of the trip was relatively flat and we spotted a couple of moose from the air over the flatlands leading up to Denali National Park. When you get to Denali, you'll know it. The foothills rapidly become mountains not unlike those seen in the movies. Mt. McKinley cannot be understated. It towers above everything else. Glaciers are miles long, crags are massive. The scale is hard to describe.

On the return trip, we landed on a remote lake with great views of the surrounding area. My favorite photos of this were taken on an iPhone and posted to Instagram. [Photo 1] [Photo 2]

Several locals recommended Simon & Seaforts Saloon as the "best" place for fish and we concur. We finished the day with a great dinner of locally caught wild salmon and watched the seaplanes take-off and land. I became worried that it couldn't possibly get any better than this. It did.

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