Find Your Outdoors

So What Now?

2014-11-14T17:22:00.001-08:00

Well it’s been exactly two weeks since Ryan and I drove the car back to St. Louis, finishing up the most incredible adventure we could have imagined for our post-grad. Things like showering regularly and not being together 24/7 have taken some getting used to, but we definitely do not poo-poo our comfy beds and climate controlled houses especially now that the weather is getting colder. But of course the adventure can’t stop now.

While Ryan and I are still fit and immune to the cold, we’ve decided to take up seasonal positions in ski country USA, back in the mountains of Colorado. During the road trip we actually applied for our jobs, interviewed on the road, and found housing in Summit County. Our rational for this next adventure includes several key points:

Our careers may not allow for us to live in tiny mountain towns in the near future, thus eliminating our dream of living in the mountains if not for these temp jobs
We still don’t have many financial obligations that dictate where we can currently work or what wage we have to make (thanks again to our parents paying for our schooling)
We ski like maniacs and our bodies (mainly our knees) might not have the capacity after retirement to ski like we do now

So in other words, Ryan and I are still not done playing, though having full time jobs and an apartment is definitely a step up from living out of the car. This winter is set to be full of sledding, skiing, snowshoeing and hot tubbing mixed in with our work of ski instructing (Ryan’s teaching the 3-6 year olds) and travel coordinating (I’m going to be a travel agent for Vail).

As I’m writing, the snow just keeps falling, it’s already accumulated about 14 inches on our porch
banister. Mountains surround us and the thin mountain air makes me giddy. The road trip adventure might be over, but fun times and good memories are undoubtedly still to come.

Thanks for all your followership everyone! And don’t hesitate to retrace our steps. We recommend the United States as one of the best places to travel, citizen or no.

With love,

The Road Trippers.

One Last Yeehaw!

2014-10-29T10:10:00.001-07:00

Nashville was the perfect place to end our trip. You know it’s going to be a fun town when the shuttle bus taking you downtown has a video screen playing Big n’ Rich with everyone singing along on the bus. Even better was the bus driver’s jokes. For instance (and you have to imagine this in a southern accent)…

“One day a man and his wife were sittin’ watchin’ TV when a commercial for Slim Fast came on. ‘You know honey, I bet if you sprinkled some of that powder in your panties, your giant bum would slim down’ said the husband to his wife. The next morning, the husband went to put on his underwear and noticed some white powder in them. ‘What’s this?’ he says to his wife, ‘Miracle Grow you sonofabitch!’”

I hope that made you laugh, though probably not as much as our bus did.

Anyway, we got off on Broadway, which they call Nashvegas, and ventured to a local spot off the main drag as recommended by a local Tennessean called Back Alley Diner (B.A.D.). There we had amazing burgers for pretty cheap plus all the live music we could have ever imagined. Literally they had two performers up at a time switching off singing and they only got three songs before the next two performers took the stage. And it was a Tuesday night. If that’s any indication of the how much a music town Nashville is, I don’t know what is. Some of the performers were pretty good, but my favorite was a tone deaf guy in his late twenties who had beautiful lyrics but no sense of pitch and who ended his performance with “find me on Facebook and Christian Mingle.” What a cutie.

From there we ventured back to Broadway for a change of scene and found Honky Tonk Central where there was a full band playing lots of country greats, including John Denver’s Country Road which made me very happy. It was also where we watched the Royals start their complete domination of the Giants, which made Ryan very happy. It was also where we discovered Honky Tonk Tea, made of lemonade and sweet tea Vodka, which maybe made both of us a bit too happy.

Craving something sweet, we left that bar for Mike’s Ice Cream, famous in the city and rightfully so. Cookie Dough and Oreo ice cream in thick scoops were creamy beyond belief, or maybe that was just the Honky Tonk Tea.

Our last stop was at the Tin Roof Live Music Joint where we had one last beer to cheer the trip. Then it was back onto the bus for the shuttle ride back to the hotel, (also fun) to finish up our last night of the trip.

But the excitement couldn’t end there!

At about 7:00am this morning, I heard a car alarm screaming from the parking lot. I woke Ryan up, “is that our car?” and he grabbed the keys to shut off what we figured was a false alarm.

Nope.

Luckily all our valuables were in the hotel room, so the thief only managed to get some of my clothes in the bag he grabbed… and Ryan’s swimsuit. Why the thief wanted Ryan’s torn, faded, mildewed swimsuit stuffed in the back pocket of the driver’s seat we’ll never know, but my guess is he’s regretting it.

I wore it all around Patagonia.

Honestly the most valuable thing he got was my Patagonia hat, which I got in Punta Arenas, Chile and is by far the warmest hat I’ve ever owned, not to mention the most sentimental. Bummer. L I guess that’s what we get for parking next to a Waffle House.

Damn you Waffle House

Anyway, it’s Day 100 and St. Louis is calling, so we’re currently driving a blustery drive back home to fix the window there. We’re still counting ourselves fortunate, even though we were robbed twice. This trip has been priceless, the good with the bad. Sometimes you just gotta laugh it off.

Nearing the End

2014-10-29T09:11:00.001-07:00

The last few days of the trip we decided to change our plans around completely. We had originally planned on staying in two tiny state parks, one in South Carolina and one in Georgia, but we got snagged by the beauty of North Carolina and western Georgia and decided to kiss our plans goodbye.

From the Smokies, we descended into a beautiful river gorge not far from Franklin, NC with dramatic waterfalls, steep cliffs, and a pretty narrow road deemed a scenic byway and rightly so. We entered a national forest along the road, and Ryan recognized the name as an ideal fishing spot as touted by his father, the avid fisherman who taught us both.

Soon enough our plans were changed to camping in the beautiful national forest in order to make one last ditch attempt at fly fishing on the trip.

Luckily, it was not in vain.

On the pretty little Tallulah river in northern Georgia, in the Chattahoochee national forest, Ryan and I put our fly fishing prowess to one final test.

Ryan's beauty

At first all we caught were trees and dead leaves, but then Ryan got a bite and pulled in a good sized rainbow for our first triumph of the day, and our first success fly fishing in seemingly forever.

With some lessons from Ryan on my cast (it would have been romantic, with his arms around me showing me how, except for the enormous over-all waders we were both wearing) I started to get the fly further out into the depths of the stream. On one cast, I didn’t notice much of a nibble at all, but when I pulled back to cast again, sure enough a little silver flash almost went flying backwards with my pole before I realized “oh hey! There’s a fish on there!” Sure enough, behold my first fish caught fly fishing ever.

He may be small, but I am still quite proud.

But we weren’t done with that. Ryan managed to catch another little guy, and then, again by some miracle, I caught a good sized rainbow in the rapids of one deep pool. In all my excitement I started reeling him in, although he was putting up a mighty fight against my rod. *Snap!* Completely bewildered and upset, I looked at Ryan with my now loose line and no fish. “I was so focused on teaching you how to catch fish, I forgot to tell you what to do when you actually do catch them” Ryan said laughing. Apparently you’re supposed to let them fight until they tire themselves out before reeling them in. What I feel worse about is that there’s a fish down in the creek somewhere with a hook stuck in his mouth. Sorry buddy!

Now, the four fish that we caught could have made a very nice trout dinner, except that Ryan and I had already bought steak to stir fry for our last night camping and therefore didn’t need more protein, so we released all that we caught. Probably a good thing too since neither of us are particularly knowledgeable about how to clean a fish and we didn’t have internet access to ask Google. They did look pretty tasty though.

That night we decided to scrap our plans to camp in the state park we’d planned on and instead camped on the side of the river, reminiscing and enjoying some beers before a crackling fire and bright stars above. We’ve camped in canyons, deep woods, on mountainsides, in cold weather, hot weather, fog and sunshine. The trip as a whole has been absolutely unbelievable we decided – the best 100 days of our lives. Sure my computer was stolen, I got sick a couple times, and we almost died in the Tetons, but while we knew the trip wasn’t going to be perfect, we have to say it came pretty darn close. After all, if we can count the amount of “big bummers” on one hand, we’d like to think it was a pretty successful trip.

From Georgia, we had just one last stop before heading back to Saint Louis. We decided to finish off the trip with one last city, the heart and soul of country music, Nashville Tennessee. Farewell woods and picnic tables and gravel tent pads! Until next summer – wherever we’ll be then.

The Award for Best East Coast National Park Goes To…

2014-10-28T13:31:00.002-07:00

The Great Smokies National Park!

Really though, it was such a beautiful place. By some miracle, we managed to catch the park at peak leaf peeping time, so our backpacking trip was accompanied by showers of gold, orange, and red leaves. The mountains themselves were more like gentle giants than anything like what we experienced in the Andes or the Rockies, but the deciduous forest was such a nice change to pine trees that we were absolutely enchanted the whole time we were hiking.

We followed this beautiful stream up the mountainside, with lots of gorgeous cascades to oooo and awww at as we went along.

There was even a hidden waterfall off a little unmarked side trail that provided ample photo opportunities.

At the summit of the mountain ridge, the trees were thick, but we could catch glimpses of the far mountainsides aflame in fall color, and the carpet of leaves blanketing the ground was like a colorful quilt sprawled under our feet. Several creatures found shelter underneath the colorful quilt, and blended in almost to invisibility.

The air was cool, but comfortable, and we came to our last backpacking camp after nine miles of beautiful hiking. At this point, after about 23 days in the backcountry, we’d like to think we’re pretty experienced at this whole backpacking thing, and Ryan’s found lots of ways to bring creature comforts to the backcountry as well.

It was sad though, in our little cathedral of yellow trees, knowing that this was our last time of the trip to be camping away from it all. We’re lucky to have had such incredible experiences backpacking, from our first journey together up Aconcagua to our favorite trip down to Havasu Creek, backpacking has certainly been a memorable activity for the trip.

Back to the Smokies though, after completing our last backpacking trip, we drove south through the park to Georgia, which brought even more incredible views of clear streams, stunning leaves, and mountains aglow. It was one of the prettiest drives and sights we seen in a day driving and we were certainly determined to come back to fish, camp, and hike the area more in another autumn hopefully not too distant.

That Awkward Moment When You Accidentally Stumble Upon the Amish

2014-10-28T13:13:00.000-07:00

From South Carolina, Ryan and I ventured westward again to the Cumberland Gap National Historic Site.

Now first things first, what’s a gap? It took me a while to understand that a gap is exactly what you would expect, a gap, but a gap in the mountains, or what we in Colorado would call a pass. This is significant because without the discovery of these gaps, westward expansion over the Appalachian Mountains would have been incredibly more difficult, and Manifest Destiny might have been given the middle finger by Mother Nature. But thankfully people like Daniel Boone discovered an “easy” way through the mountains by means of gaps like the Cumberland.

It was actually quite fascinating understanding the history of the area. Boone discovered the Cumberland Gap, and led the way west for so many pilgrims into the fertile valleys of Virginia and Kentucky. Lewis and Clark used the gap to head west to St. Louis before starting their epic exploration of the Louisiana Purchase, and so it’s clear that the area is worthy of a historical monument. For Ryan and me, why use the gap when you can just go straight uphill to the ridgeline?

It was a backpacking trip, just a one-nighter, but nonetheless we had to find the trail with a gain of about 2000 vertical feet so we could eat our calories that night with a clear conscience. It was also the most direct route to our lodging for the night, a little log cabin built a good hundred years ago by some guy named Martin.

It seemed like a fun idea when I made the reservation, and we’re still happy we had the opportunity to mix up our camping routine, but let me tell you, there is no place creepier to spend the night than an old cabin in the middle of the woods.

First of all, it’s not like the cabin had electricity, so the only light in the cabin was from the dirt crusted windows and our meager headlamps, which while not very big, still did little to light up the corners of our little abode. And then of course you can only imagine what sort of things are living in that cabin. We discovered a couple spiders, too big for comfort, but what was worse was their webs, which were large and strong enough to hold whole sticks aloft in the air – a bad omen for my arachnophobia. My industrious boyfriend was quick to gather a good amount of firewood and soon enough had a fire going in the cabin’s old stone fireplace, not unlike how early settlers would have done it. While we were grateful for the little bit of warmth it produced, I couldn’t help but think about what the smoke rising from our chimney could be signaling to whatever was living in the forest around us. Clearly all the Halloween prepping is getting to me. It took me awhile to get to sleep since every thump and scrape sounded like the lever of our cabin door being moved open. Eek!

I did finally get to sleep but then in the middle of the night, I awoke to a rather discouraging noise, a chewing sound coming from one of the far bunks. Completely tense (so as not to move and thus not be noticed by whatever it was, cus every kid knows that works), I listened intently to understand just what I was hearing.

Sure enough, it was exactly what I figured it was. Mr. Mouse had discovered our Ziplock bag of trash and was doing his best to nibble through it to the sweet smelling paper towels inside. This is not surprising at all in a super old cabin in the woods, and I had actually prepped for such an intruder. We had spilled some rice on one of the bunks in the corner, so I put our trash and fuel bottle and such over there as bait while moving our sealed food to another bunk on the other side of the room, hoping he’d be too distracted by the smells of the bait to notice it. Sure enough, it worked! All the rice was cleared from the other bunk, and we had a small hole in our trash bag and some shredded paper towel, but oatmeal and energy bars were left untouched. Huzzah! Now while I’m proud to have bested the little guy, I will say when he came scurrying over to our bunk bed to investigate my pack (which had delicious smelling pots in it), I was a little cowed. The last thing I wanted was to stay up fighting a mouse off my pack all night, but Ryan moved around on the top bunk above me and the little rodent thought better of his plan to get close to the humans.

What's so scary about this place?

The next morning of course we felt silly for ever being afraid of the cabin or the woods, but then again I think I prefer my tent significantly anyway. We made off for the Hensley settlement listed on our map, which was the only attempt by settlers to farm the Cumberland ridge.

We strode into the clearing of the settlement and started walking among old fence lines upon wet, soft grass taking pictures and commenting on the old structures and how we wouldn’t like to sleep in them either.

Suddenly, we came across a building with a sign “private residence, do not enter” and I said loudly to Ryan “Holy cow! People still live here?” The woman on the porch as we rounded the side of the building answered before Ryan could, “Good morning!”

Needless to say, I felt SUPER awkward and couldn’t believe we hadn’t been told there were still inhabitants in the settlement. The woman was wearing a long dress and bonnet and was holding some stitching, which instantly made me think, “Oh shoot, we’ve invaded an Amish settlement.”

From her house, we awkwardly walked around the lawns to the cemetery and the school house, which looked both like it could be in use, or like it was being posed as if it was being used. Completely befuddled, we walked by one other house where another woman dressed in colonial garb was starting to weave on the front porch. Time to go!

Turns out when we went to the visitor center to turn in the cabin key that no, they are not in fact Amish, they are volunteers. They do live up there, but they dress in period costume and engage in activities like weaving for educational purposes and they love to show tourists through the cabins that are in mock 1800s getup. Soooo we didn’t actually stumble upon an Amish community, instead we just snubbed some volunteers by completely avoiding them. Oops! Mostly I was just happy to hear there were other humans not far from our haunted cabin in the woods, Amish or not.

Southern Living, Then and Now

2014-10-28T12:45:00.001-07:00

From Shenandoah, we drove south towards two very different representations of southern life – the old and the new.

First stop was Jefferson’s home named Monticello, which was added to our list of destinations mostly because I’m a total nerd about that period of history. Ryan was impressed as well though as we strolled among the grounds and toured the house with a very knowledgeable and quirky tour guide. Monticello and the acreage Jefferson owned gave a wonderful glimpse into how one of the most popular and prominent men of the late 1700s-early 1800s lived his life. What became quite clear on the tour was that the survival and upkeep of Monticello and the lifestyle Jefferson lived was completely and utterly dependent on slaves. Quite in debt throughout most of his adult life (he would accumulate approximately $2 million dollars of debt in today’s dollar), if it weren’t for the slaves that harvested crops, made nails, and ran his household, it’s quite likely Jefferson would have been in deep trouble with his creditors and spending his time writing appeals from jail instead of the Declaration of Independence. So in that document, when Jefferson wrote “all men are created equal,” I’m sure his conscience was squirming.

Luckily Jefferson treated his slaves as kindly as he could, and the slaves quarters (while tucked semi-underground below the hill of the estate), were particularly comfortable for them.

Back to the debt though, Jefferson’s home (where we weren’t allowed to take pictures of the interior), was filled with beautiful paintings, hundreds of books, maps, scientific instruments, busts of all the great men of the day, not to mention built in intricacies like skylights, revolving doors, and specially designed clocks. That plus the exquisite food Jefferson ate (he brought one of his slaves to France with him to be instructed in French cooking and ate as such ever since), it’s pretty clear how the bills started to pile up. Nerd moment – by far the coolest décor Jefferson had in his house was the original pair of antlers mounted on a wall that were brought as a specimen by Lewis and Clarke themselves back from the west on the Voyage of Discovery. I was pretty ecstatic about that.

Overall, Ryan and I found the idea of Monticello, with its flower gardens and orchards, vineyards and beer cellar, a romantic vision of plantation life in the south two hundred years ago. Frozen in time and preserved as carefully as possible, it was fascinating to fathom the life Jefferson lived there.

From Monticello, it was time to experience more modern southern life, and where better than at the State Fair in North Carolina.

At this wonderful cultural experience, there were tons of Chernobyl sized pumpkins, decorative gourds, an extensive gardening section, and of course ridiculously expensive livestock raised by 4H kids. We wandered about guided by one of my good friends born and raised in the state, admiring the winning “largest watermelon” and listening to the good-natured southern accent all around us. If you want a good chuckle, imagine Jefferson talking like that.

One cultural highlight of the fair we had to experience was the cooking, which was not in the least bit French.

Of course in the photo above you can’t even begin to tell what it is we’re eating, but believe me when I say those are fried Oreos, fried cookie dough, and fried cheesecake on a stick. Yup. Welcome to the south! To me, the sugary sweetness was almost too overwhelming. I like all those things separately, including just fried dough like funnel cake, but combing them was almost too much. The cookie dough especially was so sweet it almost made us sick after just four of the fried mounds. The Oreos were the best, but even those took my stomach for a turn. What’s even crazier is we didn’t even scratch the surface of what we could have purchased fried.

The most intricate fried thing was probably the “Twix bar wrapped in bacon,” though the unfried “Krispy Kreme Donut Burger” (a burger with donuts as buns) probably gave a lot of the fried foods a run for their calories.

After gorging ourselves on fried things, it was off to the races… of pigs that is (if video does not load, click here).

I wonder what Jefferson would have thought of this modern day pig race could he attend the state fair. My guess is he would have thought it just as hilarious as we did, because “pig races are boring” said no one ever. They also raced baby goats and ducks, which all the animals seemed to understand “if I just turn this corner, and then this one, and this one, and this one, I get food!” It definitely got the crowd cheering every time.

The fair ended with a finale of fireworks lighting up the South Carolina sky. Between the fireworks and the carnival games we wasted some money on, plus the sugary food and pig races we were happy to be little kids again, and more than happy we were able to experience southern life both old and new. Now off again to the mountains!

Camping in the Clouds

2014-10-28T09:10:00.000-07:00

From Washington DC it was back into the woods for Ryan and me. Luckily Shenandoah National Park is an easy two hour drive from the city with plenty of eye popping views to get us back in the mood.

Shenandoah resulted from the desire to preserve at least one of the tree dense ridgelines of the Blue Ridge Mountains for a scenic drive, and with the help of the CCC, the Skyline Drive and national park was born. The northern part of the drive is also the narrowest part of the park, so views to the east and west overlooked fertile farmland and thriving communities in picturesque valleys. Not a bad place to settle, and undoubtedly many of the families there have tilled the land for generations.

Ryan and I did a short hike to see more of the views before heading to our first campsite of the two nights we had in the park, but unfortunately as I was fighting a cold, we couldn’t do more than a few miles.

The next day however, I felt up to a longer hike and so we headed down the ridgeline alongside a pretty creek to a scenic waterfall. Leaves carpeted the floor and the air was crisp and cool, suddenly it felt more like fall than ever before.

The rain that started down softly as we made the ascent back up to the trailhead hindered us from hiking a second hike, but made stopping for a quick load of laundry at the campground more attractive to avoid what was becoming a deluge. Fortunately it let up in time for us to set up camp and cook dinner, though the temperature stayed (probably) in the upper 40s.

Our campground was on the side of Loft Mountain, alluding to a lofty elevation as far as this part of the country is concerned, and the rain cloud that had doused us sat snugly over the mountain like a cap. Our campsite felt a bit eery as the fog turned the trees into grey shadows around our tent, and our headlamps’ beams could be seen like a lighthouse’s warning. A deer walked by camp while we were cooking, adding to the overall other-worldly effect.

Sure enough, as we drove out of the park the next day, it didn’t take long for us to descend from our cloudy quarters to the sunny views of the valley below. Sometimes there’s a plus to camping in the rain, our cloud had a silver lining.

We Found Our Dream House!

2014-10-24T13:55:00.003-07:00

And we’d actually be able to afford it too, if they sold it to us for the same price as they offered it to the government, only $1!

Ok so maybe we couldn’t afford to live like the Vanderbilts even if we did own the house, as our tour of the (smallest) mansion of the wealthiest family in America quickly pointed out. Nonetheless, getting an idea of how a family with more money than anybody else in the world does with all that cash was certainly fascinating.

For instance the “summer” home we toured, located on prime real estate with views of the Hudson and the Roosevelts as next-door neighbors, furnished with all the most fashionable and lavish décor that could be bought. Here’s the first floor…

Entry Parlor

Women's Parlor

Drawing Room

Dining Room

The men's cigar room

Then of course you have the sleeping quarters, where guests were made aware of their rank in the family’s favor depending on how close their guest rooms were to Mr. and Mrs. Vanderbilts’ rooms.

His Bedroom

Her bedroom (modeled after Marie Antoinette)

And of course (my favorite part), lots of closet space for all those hats and shoes Mrs. Vanderbilt owned.

Servant’s quarters were squished all over the house, and fun fact about Mrs. Vanderbilt, she was a supporter of women’s rights (though perhaps not as vocal as other women giving her standing in society), so her house was run by a housekeeper rather than a butler. The whole house had state of the art amenities included, like electricity. How could a house be outfitted with electricity in the late 1800s in rural New York? The Vanderbilt’s simply called up Mr. Thomas Edison to install one of his power plants down by the river and using hydroelectric energy, voila! No need for wax candles or oil lamps any longer.

Downstairs was the ice chest, storage, cellars, and kitchen, which apparently is haunted since the motion detector in the room kept chirping, even though no one was in the room. Creepy!

This is where the flowers were prepared each day

I'd probably haunt this kitchen if I was a dead cook too...

Total, the house cost about $2.5 million to build and furnish in the 1800s which means it remains ridiculously costly even by today’s standards. Lucky for the national park service, the niece to whom the house was willed decided she had no time between her other vacation homes for the “little house in the country.” Lucky for us poor folk, it means a look into the life of the first rich and famous people of America, and yes, I’d say they put the Kardashians to shame.

The City Stretch

2014-10-23T11:15:00.001-07:00

After visiting Martha’s Vineyard, Ryan and I had a long stretch of cities to see along the coast, which made for a week of hotel stays with real beds (so much for roughin’ it!). As per usual with cities, Ryan and I spent most of our time walking and looking, trying to take in the culture of each place for the unique urban area it is, and we did have three very different cities to see.

Boston

First up was the harbor town of Boston, or more accurately, Bahston. This city was super easy to visit and see thanks to the Freedom Trail, a two-brick wide path inlaid in the sidewalk that leads tourists to all the historical sites in a Wizard of Oz sort of fashion. Most of the landmarks the little brick road took us to were free to poke our heads into, and plaques on the outside described their historical significance. Some of the awesome sites we got to see included:

Sam Adams' grave

The site of the Boston Massacre

The (Episcopal) church where Paul Revere instructed the hanging of the tell-tale lanterns

Paul Revere’s home

We deviated from the trail a bit to walk along the famous Boston Greenway, which is a series of beautiful parks that follow the route of what was once interstate 93, which today runs below ground in a tunnel under the city. The repurposed space is like a green snake slithering through the concrete jungle, and provides entertainment in the form of carousels, fountains, and labyrinths.

Ryan was bummed when he discovered a labyrinth is not the same thing as a maze.

All this walking of course made us pretty hungry, and being in New England we had to find a place for some chowder and seafood. The obvious choice for this sort of fare in Boston is at the Union Oyster House restaurant, which touts being the oldest still-working restaurant in the United States. They had pictures covering the walls of famous people in the restaurant, along with historical boasts like “the first female waitress” and “Paul Revere ate here.” Upstairs, they had the John F. Kennedy booth, where the President had eaten on a visit to the city. For Ryan and me, clam chowder, a crab cake burger, and spiced calamari washed down with Sam Adam’s Oktoberfest was about as Boston as we could get, and it made for another fabulous meal.

Yesssss

We left Boston the next day by way of Fenway Park, where we got a good look at the green monster with a drive around the stadium before heading to the interstate for our next city destination.

New York

Arriving at our hotel that night became quite the adventure, even though we weren’t staying in the city. Instead, we stayed at a Ramada in East Orange, New Jersey where it immediately became clear we weren’t in Martha’s Vineyard anymore. A couple questionable characters stumbled into the street in front of the car, fortunately with enough time for Ryan to brake and let them drunkenly stumble by, which was our first indication of trouble, then at the hotel one very rough looking individual inquired about a room while I tried not to stare at the huge shiner swelling one of his eyes shut. Lovely! The room was decent enough, except for the cockroach Ryan found in the bathroom, but we weren’t sure we’d be able to find a safe place for dinner where we wouldn’t stick out as tourists (tough for us in an African American neighborhood). Fortunately we found a Chinese takeout place where we got sesame and orange chicken to eat and Snapple to drink – because it wasn’t obvious how white we were before.

Anyway, we chose the hotel because of its ideal location to the train station. A quick two minute walk and we were at the platform for the 30 minute ride into Penn Station. Fortunately the hotel parking lot had cameras and was well lit, so overall, we decided where we were was probably one of the better deals we could have asked for in order to do New York City on the cheap. Helpful, since New York City is such an expensive place.

We spent two full days in the city, taking in as much as we possibly could, which was difficult in a city as overwhelmingly large as New York. Our first purchase in the city we almost immediately regretted – we got roped into one of those bus tour things.

Now before any of you who have lived or spent considerable time in New York comment below making fun of this blunder, in our defense, it ended up being a really easy way to get around the city and see as much as possible from lower Manhattan up to Central Park while also understanding what we were seeing. For instance our tour bus drove by the upper west side where our tour guide pointed out where the Titanic was supposed to have docked, and the hotel (still in operation) where the survivor were held during the investigation. Additionally, our tour guide was a true New Yorker, born and raised, and he gave great advice about tickets for shows and things to see along with insight into opinions and beliefs of the people who live in the city.

Between our tour bus, walking considerable distances, and meeting up with one of my best girlfriends from DU, we were able to see quite a bit of the city. For instance…

The Statue of Liberty from the Staten Island Ferry

The Empire State Building from street level

Times Square (a marketer’s worst nightmare)

Wall Street

Some of the most notable highlights from our trip to the Big Apple though included seeing Avenue Q at an off-broadway theatre, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the 9/11 Memorial.

We were able to see Avenue Q for 40 percent off through the TKTS booth that offers same day discounts, and we were able to get our tickets in about fifteen minutes because we went to the southern TKTS booth rather than the Times Square booth as per our tour guide’s suggestion. Sweet! We were in the second row of a very intimate theater that served drinks to your seat and hosted quite a talented group of actors. We thoroughly enjoyed the production, particularly the Bad Idea Bears. Also, fun fact, a theater is considered “on-broadway” or “off-broadway” not depending on its location (few of the big theaters are actually on Broadway), but because of the amount of seats in the theatre. If the venue has 500 or more seats, it’s considered a broadway venue, if it has 499 or less, it’s off-broadway. What blows my mind is that there are so many. If you want to try and comprehend the size of New York City, imagine at least ten venues that seat over 500 people in your hometown, and then throw in the dozens of off-broadway little theatres too. Crazy!

In Central Park

The Metropolitan Museum of Art is also mind bogglingly huge and although we spent about a good two hours in the museum we hardly scratched the surface of their incredible collection. The highlights we did get to see included some beautiful landscape artwork of the Tetons, High Sierras, and other places Ryan and I are fondly familiar with now. We also got to see several Monet and Picasso paintings (beautiful) and the absolutely enormous, incredibly famous “Washington Crossing the Delaware” which took a whole wall. It’s definitely an experience when you get to see a picture that has appeared in history books from the beginning of our education in real life. Of course another aspect of the Met is that it’s located in Central Park, which Ryan and I explored thoroughly both by bike (part of the bus tour scheme) and on foot with my friend. Central Park isn’t the biggest park we’ve been in, Forest Park in Saint Louis almost dwarfs it, but it’s amazing that such a green oasis exists among all the buildings. As Ryan says, “in most places it’s a city surrounded by wilderness, but in New York it’s wilderness surrounded by city.” Sums up Central Park pretty well.

The final activity worthy of note in NYC was our visit to the 9/11 Memorial where the foundations of the original towers have been converted to fountains, and the Freedom Tower now rises enormous and shining into the sky. Ryan was at school when the terror attacks were carried out, but I hadn’t left for my bus yet and was standing in front of the TV when the second plane hit. Needless to say it was difficult for both of us to visit the memorial, and equally difficult seeing so many tourists taking pictures and posing. I took a few photos, but it didn’t really feel appropriate, and before long I just wanted to leave. The 9/11 Memorial is an important aspect of New York City today, and the memorial will be critical for future generations to understand the enormity of the horror that day, but for Ryan and I having lived through it, it was still just too fresh, even thirteen years later. For New Yorkers it seems to be the same, our tour guide was saying that although 16 more super tall skyscrapers were on the books to go up in the city, building owners were struggling to find tenants for the upper third of their towers, regardless of the views or prestige of the penthouse suite. For now at least, no one’s forgetting.

Overall, New York was a blast. Overwhelming, exciting, and expensive it might top our list for coolest city we’ve been to on the trip. The only downfall was that the Cardinals lost their opportunity for a World Series appearance, which we watched with a few other despairing fans at a brew house not far from Penn Station. There’s always next year I suppose. As for us, it was off to city number three to round off our extravagant period of comfy beds and yummy food.

Washington DC

DC was more of a social visit than anything else, with Ryan spending time with his dad who had flown in to join us and his relatives who live in the area, while I was gallivanting about with my three best friends from Argentina, reunited after over two years. The girls live in Philadelphia and Raleigh, and so we agreed that DC was a good meeting point that worked for everyone. Between all the catching up and visiting, there was not nearly enough time to see all the monuments and museums and everything DC has to offer, but we did make time for the national mall and the Smithsonian Museum of Nature in Science. The museum was featuring a special exhibit of outdoor photography winners from the public lands contest, and Ryan and I enjoyed strolling through and guessing what photographs were taken where. I was considering entering this year’s contest with some of my photos… but I’m not so sure after seeing the incredible pictures in that exhibit.

After spending one last night with Ryan’s family, it was time to head back into the woods after a grand total of nine days in the comfort of hotels and restaurants. Something we most certainly will not miss though are the tolls. We’ve just about had enough of paying upwards of $20 to get from point A to point B. Nope! Time for the wilderness yet again.

Island Life

2014-10-22T14:59:00.000-07:00

Visiting Martha’s Vineyard would have been out of the question for us, if it hadn’t been for the generosity of Ryan’s mom and stepfather who joined us on the East Coast for a brief vacation. They had visited the island before, and suggested it as a stop along the way. The island getaway for Ryan and me would quickly become a highlight of the East Coast stretch.

For me, I had always imagined the East Coast as the beautiful landscape described in Kate Chopin's The Awakening with the ocean lapping at clean brown beaches with blue green sea grass waving in the breeze among sand blown cottages and resorts. Turns out the scene I had pictured while reading Chopin's classic is a real place.

Minus the characters wearing long bathing gowns and beach trousers, it felt like I could have stepped into the quaint setting of a summer getaway spot for wealthy Bostonians of the early 1900s. The reality is actually not too far from that, since over half of the island’s homes are used seasonally, and the price tag of living on the island certainly hints at the wealth of those who do summer here.

As for us, we chose to spend our time bicycling around the island and oooing and awwwing at the combination of beautiful scenery and historic homes and properties of Edgartown and Vineyard Haven. The island has installed smooth, paved bike paths along the shoreline and between the towns, making for effortless bike riding, minus the few hills on the interior of the island. Traveling to the opposite end of the island where the fishing boats come in (and where much of Jaws was shot) is not quite so biker friendly, but Ryan’s mom found a creative solution to our transportation needs in the form of a Mini Cooper convertible that we happily took down the scenic drive to the western point of the island. There we found one of the prettiest ocean views I’ve ever seen.

As if the beautiful views, pristine beaches, and quaint summer homes weren’t enough, the food we ate on the island was just as mind blowing. Believe it or not, some of the best Mexican I’ve ever had was at Sharky’s on Martha’s Vineyard. The steak enchiladas, guacamole, and pulled pork burrito were particularly worth noting, and the margaritas proved quite dangerous. Then there was lunch in Edgartown at a local spot overlooking the bay where the lobster quesadilla I shared with Ryan’s mom had been featured on the Food Network, and rightfully so. Finally, our favorite spot was Larsen’s fish market, where we ordered four lobsters, crab cakes, and lobster bisque ahead of time, then munched while watching the sunset over the harbor and the bobbing fishing skiffs.

In total, the charm and beauty of Martha’s Vineyard completely captured our hearts. The island is such a romantic place, with its beaches ideal for swimming and sailboats catching the breeze, it’s easy to fall in love with island life. Surely we’ll be back sometime soon when the summer sun allows for a dip into the Atlantic, sipping Sharky’s margaritas, and licking lobster juice off our fingers. Doesn’t get much better than that.

Lobstah Like No Othah!

2014-10-17T14:22:00.000-07:00

After thorough amounts of leaf peeping in New Hampshire, it was time to head north to Maine and Acadia National Park for more leaf peeping, hiking, and seafood dining.

It all started with lunch in Augusta, at a little local spot called the Red Barn. For $10 you can get one of these:

Look at all that lobstah! Heaped onto a Texas toast bun with lettuce and a tartar-mayonnaise sauce. Ryan and I couldn’t believe how delicious that crustacean was, and it certainly boded well for our dinner that night…

We drove up to meet some cousins of mine at their lake retreat known lovingly as “camp” before touring a bit around Acadia (they served as wonderful tour guides), then heading to what’s known as a Lobster Pound. At this type of restaurant establishment, they have the catch of lobsters from the day swimming jauntily around some tanks waiting casually for you to order them up for dinner, when they then grab the lobsters out of the tank and plunk them right into one of the steaming, boiling pots before being delivered to your table five minutes later. So this little guy was alive just a few minutes before he showed up in front of me:

And he was delicious. Ryan and I have never experienced lobstah like that – so sweet, so tender and so fresh. But of course the thing with Maine lobstah is you have to dissect it and dig out the meat yourself, which can be quite intimidating if you’ve never tackled a whole lobstah before. Luckily, we had my cousin there who is seasoned in all things lobstah and he showed us these easy steps to enjoy the meaty insides of your hard-shelled new-found friend:

Step 1: Twist off front legs with claws from the body and crack the shells open for claw and arm meat.
Step 2: Twist off the tail from the body segment, which will expose the green, mushy liver (do your best to ignore that part and just scrape it into the dump pile with all the shells). You can eat the liver, my cousin informed us, but both Ryan and I obstained from this practice. You may also find bright orange organs, which means you got a female! Woo hoo! Don’t eat the orange stuff either. Just don’t.
Step 3: Place the tail between your palms with your fingers together, like the lobster tail has somehow inserted itself into your evening prayers, then push your palms together to crack the outer shell of the lobster tail.
Step 4: Once the shell is cracked, pull the shell open from the fleshy underside section, to reveal the thick meat of the tail, the best part of the whole meal.
Step 5: Locate the vein of the tail, sometimes buried near where the tail would normally connect to the body, (typically around where you scooped out the liver), and pull this out, like you would if you were deveining a shrimp.
Step 6: After devouring the tail meat, the only other meat left hidden to you are in the little legs of the lobster, which you can attempt to get out by loosening with a pick and then sucking like a straw.
Step 7: Dissect the body, not because there’s much meat, but because it’s fun! Ok, so this wasn’t really a step my cousin recommended, but Ryan was curious, so he went investigating and found the brain cavity and all sorts of interesting little things. We’re maybe not the best dinner guests.

In any case, my cousin did such a good job of explaining the process to us, we were able to replicate the steps with Ryan’s family a few days later when we ordered lobstah with them. New life skill accomplished!

After our Maine lobstah adventure, it was a full day in Acadia to see the sights of the East’s most visited national park. We started out by biking on a portion of the winding carriage roads of the park, installed by the Roosevelts when they owned the land. The packed gravel roads are too narrow for cars, but are ideal for bikers, hikers, and the carriage rides that are still available through private companies. They wind around hidden lakes and through hills covered in glowing trees, and beautifully constructed bridges take the roads over brooks and streams heading towards the Atlantic. It was not hard to imagine dainty ladies and regal gentlemen covered in furs conversing while their carriages took them from one sprawling manor to another. Rough life.

In the afternoon, Ryan and I hiked “The Precipice” trail, which winds its way up the side of a cliff face, exposing great views of the ocean and the tree covered hills of Acadia. The best part was the technicality of the climb, with bars and railings to help hikers scramble up the rock during the climb. It made for not only great views, but an interesting hike too. There were a couple places where Ryan’s fear of heights made him a little anxious, but overall, we really enjoyed the hike.

Ryan was not crazy about this part...

Afterwards, we headed down to the beach where we hiked to an outer point of the island and admired our second ocean of the trip. We’ve officially been from one coast to the other. Crazy.

And then of course there was sunset that night.

Overall, our trip to Acadia was wonderfully memorable. Between the food, the views, the hikes, and the beer (we discovered the Bar Harbor Brewing Company through my cousins), we certainly understood the appeal of the national park, and truly enjoyed our time there. It was over too soon though (like most of the trip), as we headed south again for more adventures, these on the quaint island of Martha’s Vineyard where (as my dad says), the “poh folk live.” Stay tuned!

People from Maine are so funny.

The Prettiest Little Notch We’ve Ever Seen

2014-10-14T15:09:00.002-07:00

After our Adirondack adventure, we headed east to New Hampshire where we stayed at a beautiful little place called Franconia Notch.

Now, to be honest, I’m still not entirely sure of what geographically a “notch” is, but the best explanation I can procure is that it’s a very narrow winding area through a mountainous region, typically following a river that has dug itself a notch in the landscape. That’s my best guess anyway.

Regardless, Ryan and I were beyond excited about the bright yellows and oranges setting the hillsides ablaze with fall color, and the mountains, including Mount Washington (the tallest point in NH and in the area) made for a very picturesque place to hike and bike.

Not a bad place to camp...

First on the order was visiting the Flume Gorge, a deep canyon with water shooting down its narrow length to the larger river below. The trail along the gorge featured a couple beautiful covered bridges and lots of waterfalls and trees turning golden. Considered a New Hampshire “attraction” hiking the Flume trail cost a whopping $15 per person, making it some of the most expensive hiking we’d done all trip. Good thing it was beautiful…

After the Flume, we biked back along the bike trail to “The Basin,” another impressive water feature of the notch. It would seem in the valley the rock is a very hard granite, so the eroding that takes place by the river is more of a polishing process than a deep gouging process like you see with sandstone. That means that rather than a very deep, wide canyon (like what we saw in the southwest), instead the rivers in this part of New Hampshire form steep, smooth, powerful chutes out of the rock that look enticingly like slides.

The Basin is one such example, with lots of water forcing its way through one narrow channel into the pool below.

We decided to hike a ways up the Cascade river, descending from the upper peaks down to the main river in the notch, when we came across a white water kayak. “What??” we though to ourselves, “No way can someone kayak this river.” It was running rapidly, very shallow, and created huge features like waves and waterfalls as the river water was directed into the granite chutes and over logs and boulders that had been lodged by the last flood.

What was more disconcerting was that there was no kayaker with the boat, which we worried did not bode well for whoever’s boat it may be.

We continued on our hike, taking pictures and enjoying the trees before turning around as dusk loomed. Heading back down the trail, we encountered the kayak yet again, but this time it was higher up the river, and there was a kayaker too.

Sure enough, this guy was going to run the river, which boasted Class 5 plus rapids, almost Class 6 (as in almost off the scale in difficulty), and he was going to do it with a makeshift spray skirt made of a rain jacket and rope since he’d forgot his own at home. Horrified and excited at the same time, Ryan and I asked if he wouldn’t mind us watching and filming. He seemed honored and agreed to letting me post the below on the internet – footage that I believe is certainly YouTube worthy.

First Set (click here if video does not load)

Second Set (click here if video does not load)

Needless to say, we were thoroughly impressed, and Ryan was dreaming of being able to do the same technicality one day too much to my dismay (we’ve only ever white water kayaked once and only on Class 2s). We helped our kayak friend and some other watching hikers down the trail (it was dark at this point) then reconvened at the campground for some birthday cake (it was one of our new found friend’s day to celebrate), making for a wonderful day with great foliage, company, and no fatalities.

Next we’re off to our northern most part of the trip, up in Maine!

Go Cardinals!

2014-10-11T10:13:00.000-07:00

October is the post season for baseball, and the Saint Louis Cardinals are the team for the postseason. The excitement never lets up and Ryan and I have been frantic to find ways to listen/watch the games along the road. From a tiny bar in poo-dunk West Virginia to my computer in Ontario, we haven’t missed a moment of the Cardinal’s post-season action, which has been stunning to say the least. Now the Redbirds are in the Championship Series and we can’t help but think our support from the road is giving them the edge. ;)

Houses like this were all over the town.

October is also the perfect time to visit Cooperstown – believed birthplace of the sport of baseball and home to the baseball hall of fame. Between the postseason hype and beautiful fall colors, Cooperstown is on fire with speculation, excitement, and foliage. The town itself is located in rural New York, nestled among the hills and lakes with beautiful colonial mansions dotting large swaths of forestland. Not far from the town itself for instance, we noticed a beautiful home built of dark grey stone and boasting five fireplaces among its many sprawling wings. The name plate of the property, an iron sign with horse and carriage stated A. Busch – in other words, prime real estate!

The museum was almost overwhelming in all its information and exhibits for all things baseball. The history of the sport, early equipment, shrines to the best players, and modern statistics kept us busy in the three story historic building with a few of the coolest exhibits shown below:

Stan Musial's locker

David Freese' ripped jersey from the 2011 World Series win

Stan "The Man" in the Hall of Fame

I may not have understood all the information in the exhibits, being a rather green baseball fanatic, but for Ryan it was a top stop for the trip.

After the museum, we headed north towards the Adirondacks which unfortunately were a little past their prime for leaf peeping. Nonetheless our hike above Blue Mountain Lake still boasted beautiful views, and the towns within the mountains are the epitome of quaint. At our campsite that night, we had no choice but to listen to the radio for Cardinal coverage, when they won their second game of the five game series.

The next night then, we had to find a bar, which we did in the middle of Lake Champlain, Vermont where we were camping in a lean-to. (Quick note: great idea Vermont. The lean-to was awesome, saved us from the incessant rain, and provided excellent views of the lake. All for under $30!)

Of course we were the only people in the bar who remotely cared about the game, but when Adams hit his home run that would ultimately win us the game, everyone seemed to be understanding of our excitement in our corner of the bar. Sure enough, the Cardinals beat the Dodgers (whose payroll outnumbers ours more than 2 to 1), for the second year in a row putting us that much closer to another World Series. And Ryan and I celebrated in the middle of Lake Champlain. Go Cards!

Adams! Our hero!

Swiming at Niagara Falls

2014-10-09T10:45:00.000-07:00

Just kidding! While Ryan and I are proud to have jumped into chilly water all around the United States, the one place you certainly don’t want to do so is in the Niagara River, and not because it’s cold. So we gladly kept to the shores of the river and viewed the falls from both the U.S. and Canada, though we hardly stayed dry.

Niagara Falls may be one of the biggest tourist traps we’ve encountered on the trip yet, with every possible way of selling attractions imaginable. There are the famous boat rides, museums, observation decks, dinner by the falls, etc. etc. etc. on both the Canadian and U.S. sides. Ryan and I knew we’d have to spend our money somewhere, but our first tour of the falls was just by walking from our B&B along the river to the falls themselves. Fortunately the Canadian side lets you see quite a bit without having to pay anything at all. The best part might be all the rainbows from the spray, which make for really patriotic pictures…

Oooohhh Caaannaadddaaaa!!

When we did decide to spend our money though, we opted for the “Cave of the Winds” tourist trap, which is a very up-close view of the American Falls, and has nothing to do with the caves.

It's like you're at a water park! But with a higher probability of drowning!

Obligatory poncho selfie

That's a lot of water... and it's just one of the American Falls.

Ryan and I were completely soaked, (the rain ponchos helped only marginally), but it was a very fun, impressive experience that really proved the power of the falls – I mean I almost fell over (if video does not load, click here).

We were happy to make the one night stop at this iconic eastern landmark before heading inland again to the Adirondacks and the baseball hall of fame in Cooperstown. ‘Tis the season!

Winter is Coming

2014-10-08T09:03:00.000-07:00

Our route to the East Coast took us through Kentucky and into West Virginia by way of Lexington, which provided ample eye candy as we drove with rolling hills, trees turning golden, and blue grass fields with frolicking horses. The huge beautiful white and red barns posed on the top of the hills overlooking the green-blue fields genuinely made us jealous of the horses who lived there. In brief, I have to say Kentucky is quite a beautiful state.

West Virginia was even better.

The hills of Kentucky turn into small mountains in West Virginia, covered in trees and seemingly untouched by humans. The leaves were stunning with gold, orange, and deep, deep red painting the landscape. We stopped at the New River Gorge national river to fish for a bit (no luck) then headed to Blackwater Falls for more stunning fall color. We stopped by Snowshoe Ski Area on the way for more eye popping color, but weren’t able to mountain bike as planned. We would have been bummed, but the drive was so beautiful (part of Route 66 actually), that it was hard to complain. We also did a quick hike to the Sunrise backcountry cabin, which in the future would be a lovely place to spend a couple nights. We hover, camped at Seneca Rocks that night, a famous cliff face for climbers, and hiked to a viewpoint of the area.

Fly fishing at New River Gorge

Seneca Rocks

Blackwater Falls

While driving through the state, Ryan and I did have many ample opportunities to witness the poverty and difficulty of living in such a rural state. For instance, we needed more eggs and sausage for breakfast the following morning, and all we could find was a gas station convenience store that offered the only groceries for miles around. We were able to get eggs and bacon, but fresh produce was basically not available. This sort of dilemma for rural areas like much of West Virginia is known as “food islands” as I learned at DU, and it was interesting to experience first-hand. For the United States’ third poorest state, the challenges of living are certainly very real.

On the last morning we were in West Virginia, we woke up to rain and 39 degree temperatures. Brrrr!!! We’ve most certainly left behind the 100 degree heat of the Southwest. To quote Game of Thrones (we’re on book four of the five), “winter is coming.”

This is also the first time that it’s really hit us we’re not in school. The previous few months have felt like summer, and therefore part of the regular routine, but now that it’s getting cold, our brains are thinking, “wait a minute, shouldn’t I be doing something right now?” It’s definitely very surreal after sixteen years of going to school to not have the first day jitters and the new notebooks and pencils. Instead we’ve got new roads to drive and sights to see and the jitters we get are usually induced by heights or mountain biking. Life is good!

Pit Stop in StL

2014-10-08T07:34:00.000-07:00

The completion of our canoe trip on the Buffalo National River marked a huge milestone in the course of the road trip – day 70 and the end of the western loop. From Arkansas, we headed north to Missouri, and home to Saint Louis for a quick resupplying stop before heading east.

Of course Ryan and I couldn’t make a stop in Missouri without some time for play, so we made a point of staying a couple nights in Cuba, Missouri where Ryan’s family had a lakehouse for boating activities such as water skiing and tubing. Here’s some videos of that hilarity:

Tubing fun (if video does not load, click here)

Barrel Roll (Almost) (if video does not load, click here)

Once in the city though, it was time to scrub, vacuum, disinfect, and restock before setting out once more. Ryan and I have been pretty amazed overall with how easy it’s proven to live out of a car for the past couple months, both in terms of stuffing everything in the car and withstanding one another.

As for the car, the key to living out of a vehicle include:

1.       A heavy duty cooler than can keep ice over the course of several days in a black car in Arizona2.       Storage containers that optimize the height of the vehicle are a must, particularly with drawers
3.       A top gear box to throw camping items, particularly wet items, seriously helps preserve the liveability of your vehicle
4.       A clothes rod installed across the roof of the vehicle to hang towels, trash bags, and additional storage is a must
5.       Pack lots of different sized bags, organized according to city versus recreation use, to toss in the back to pull out when needed
6.       Containers, containers, containers. Food in plastic boxes, detergent in shut storage bins, trash taken out regularly, this is the only way to avoid a mice/ant/don’t want to know what infestation
7.       Easy meals. We basically live off of Bear Creek instant meals with canned chicken and vegetables added. Only requires water to make and you’ve got a steaming, filling meal in 15 minutes!

We’re not saying we’re pros, but it’s almost scary how easy it’s become to make do with not much, though we’ll admit everything gets tougher in foul weather.

As for each other, we’ve managed to get along far better than we even dared to hope even though we’re rarely out of each other’s company. The key to that success we believe, is because we’re best friends first, and because everything is easier in English compared to our training grounds in Argentina.

Our pit stop in Saint Louis meant a nice clean car with nice clean gear and eyes set east for the second loop of the trip. We’ll be traveling all around the east coast with West Virginia first on the list. Another thirty days in the car? No problem!

Diamonds in the Sand

2014-10-04T11:52:00.002-07:00

The last activity of the western loop was a canoe trip on the Buffalo National River in Arkansas. We drove up from Louisiana, through Tennessee and into Arkansas in a day, marveling at the bayous and cypress trees along the way.

We started our float trip the following day and rented our canoe from a local outfitter just off the river. The local who shuttled us to our put-in site with the canoe had been working on the river for 43 years and had seen the zinc boom and bust that had originally populated the river basin. Since the bust however, the town of Rush among others had become ghost towns, and the skeletons of buildings hidden back among the overgrowth looked like they’d been abandoned forever, until our shuttle driver told us about the person who had owned the building and why they left. It felt like we were talking to a ghost of the ghost town, though he seemed to be doing well for himself even with the lack of mining.

The river at this time of year was running pretty low, but having the current on our side made a heck of a difference in how fast we were making progress. The wildlife on the river rivaled Voyageurs with lots of bald eagles, herons, and deer along the shore and in the shallows. After a couple hours, we pulled up to a sandbar after traveling about five miles to make camp, and discussed the possibility of canoeing the last fourteen miles in one day rather than two. We mulled over it during dinner and enjoyed a fire on the sandbar while the sunset and darkness came over the river. Daddy long legs were our main company on the sand bar, crawling over anything and everything with their huge spindely legs. I’m not quite so fearful of that species of spiders, though they were large enough that I let Ryan flick them off the tent and such.

As darkness fell, some raccoons chattered in a tree not far from camp, which caught our attention pretty quick, and about an hour later a loud howl came from beyond the trees. Still not sure what that was, but it sounded like a wolf (more likely a dog). It was as we were putting the fire out that I noticed bright glittering in the sand from the light in my headlamp. Looking around, I noticed the glittering diamonds were all over the sand. Huh. What are these things? I headed over to the nearest glittering jewel in the sand.

And that’s when I learned a fact I really didn’t want to know.

Apparently there’s a species of spider that, when LED lights hit them right, their eyes glitter like diamonds, and apparently these spiders burrow in the sand at Buffalo National River. They’re not incredibly big spiders, though there’s more substance to them than their clumsy neighbors the daddy long-legs. The other horrifying fact is that the brighter the glitter, the bigger the spider, and they did get to a size that I was a little more than uncomfortable with their presence.

Ok! I told Ryan, let’s finish off the fourteen miles tomorrow.

And we did, easily. This canoe trip was not nearly as taxing as Voyageurs (no waves and headwind helps a ton), so we leisurely canoed downstream and made it to our car in about six hours. The only snag was attempting to avoid overhanging trees where additional spiders lurked. Clearly Lisa does not like spiders.

In any case, we actually really enjoyed the river and honestly we’d go back, so long as I just ignore the diamonds in the sand. Next time, we decided, we have to remember two things: beer, and fishing gear.

Cravin' the Cajun

2014-10-04T08:10:00.001-07:00

To continue our city adventures, we left Austin early in the morning for the long drive to the city of saints. A quick note about interstates in Louisiana, you can be driving along when all the sudden you realize the interstate has become an island in the midst of a bayou, with no solid ground apparent in any direction. That’s how we knew we’d reached Louisiana.

New Orleans was the only place where we opted to stay in a hostel, mostly because it was the cheapest lodging we could find with easy access to the French quarter. The India House it was called, a repurposed mansion once owned by a wealthy oil prospector. In typical hostel fashion, it had been eclectically redecorated, with tons of artwork painted on the walls and graffiti notes put up by the guests. To top it all off, Taj (short for Taj Mahal), the hostel cat, was languidly lounging on the front steps to greet us. Our room was in a shack out back, (this is not completely unsurprising for a hostel), that sort of made us feel like we were staying in the bayou or something. After the Wyndham experience, the India House was a little disconcerting, mostly because we were sleeping in a shack. I thought for sure we’d be plagued by bed bugs or worse, and the rowdy nature of hosteling meant we didn’t get the best sleep, but hey, it’s all a part of the New Orleans experience.

After checking into our interesting lodging, we escaped to find what we were most excited about in New Orleans – authentic Cajun food. We found a little local spot not far from the hostel where the menu quickly made it apparent we were indeed in the south.

Can you count how many times the word "fried" appears?

The waiters brought out steaming plates of food to the tables surrounding us, and Ryan and I were surprised to realize that we didn’t recognize much of anything coming out of the kitchens. It all seemed to be smothered in some kind of sauce and fried, which left a big question mark as to what the fried/smothered item was. The menu wasn’t a ton of help, since we couldn’t pronounce much of what was on there. With the waiter’s help, we settled on gumbo and fried soft-shell crab.

Hmmm what to do with the crab leg...

Then came the question of how we ate the food in front of us. For instance, the gumbo came with a large crab claw floating in it. Is it soft-shelled? Do we eat the whole thing? Do we crack it open? Or is it just garnish? By the time we’d finished our main course, we felt like we were back in Argentina – “what did we just eat?”

All we know is that it was delicious, and fully satisfied with our first Cajun meal, we caught the cable car and headed down to the river to check out the French quarter.

It wasn’t hard to find Bourbon Street, and as Ryan and I customarily do, we chose to simply walk around and people watch, rather than partake in a “hand grenade” or some other fancy alcoholic beverage the bars were trumpeting. Many of the restaurants had live music, and one club in particular had an awesome jazz band that sounded like I always imagined New Orleans would sound, but it was packed full so Ryan and I could only listen briefly outside. Bourbon Street also reminded me very much of my one experience in Amsterdam, when I happened upon the red light district. Prostitution in the quarter seemed more out-in-the-open than in Vegas, and I found it quite adorable how adamant Ryan was to keep his eyes downcast and his cheeks bright red with each girl who called out to him. I’ve got a keeper, yes I do!

During our stroll, we came across an intersection where people dressed in Halloween costumes were preparing for a parade and a host of security personal were corralling onlooking tourists away from the scene. Turns out the new show NCIS: New Orleans was shooting their Halloween episode on location in the quarter. We got to watch a scene being shot between two of the main characters, plus the parade scene. Pretty cool!

A blurry picture of the main characters

After spending the night in the shack, the next morning we were up early to return to the French Quarter and complete our sampling of New Orlean’s cuisine. We had beignets from Café Du Monde, which to me seemed like a combination of sopapilla and funnel cake. They were so covered in powdered sugar that sitting on the breezy bank of the Mississippi created a snowstorm effect of powdered sugar. I was downwind of Ryan, so I quickly became covered in snowflakes of powdered sugar. Yum!

After “breakfast” we walked around the quarter a bit more, with the St. Louis cathedral being the highlight.

Then it was off for more food, this time a Po-Boy from Johnny’s. I got the traditional shrimp Po-Boy and Ryan got blackened chicken. The crisp French bread plus tomato, lettuce, and unidentifiable delicious sauce made for a sandwich that hardly seemed “poor.”

Unfortunately that was all the time we had in New Orleans, so we missed out on Jambalaya and crawdads, and all the other unidentifiable dishes we noticed. In reality, New Orleans felt the closest to traveling outside the U.S. as we had yet experienced. The way people talk, the food, the old buildings and the history of the place felt like were in a different country entirely at times. We really enjoyed the unique culture of the city though, and hope to visit again with more time to sightsee soon!

Don't Blame Us, Blame Groupon!

2014-09-26T15:27:00.000-07:00

After Big Bend, we made a quick stop on the way to San Antonio to mountain bike the canyon rim trail at the Seminole Canyon state park. It was a worthwhile stop since the mountain biking was right at our level of technicality and the trail granted us great views of Seminole Canyon with its pictographs and black cliffs streaked with white. It was also a great stop because the plant known aptly as the “barometer plant” was flowering from all the recent rain. Desert sage or Texas sage, as it is more formally known, covers the panhandle down by the border, resulting in a mountain bike ride through fields of purple bushes. Most of the drive to San Antonio was the same, with the whole sea of sage turned purple like Lavender. It was absolutely beautiful!

Soon enough, we arrived in San Antonio where we accidentally placed ourselves in a situation similar to our experience at Copper Harbor. We were dirty, sweaty, and certainly smelly after our experiences in the Texas desert… when we checked into the Wyndham Riverwalk in downtown San Antonio.

The hotel staff was kind enough, but it quickly became apparent we were not in our element. A bell boy was required to assist us up to our room with our bags, which created an awkward situation since Ryan and I had no small bills to tip him with, and we were given complimentary breakfast buffet tickets when it took longer than usual to check us into our room. (Complimentary breakfast turned into brunch since Ryan and I are that cheap). We had to pay for valet parking too, since the Acura didn’t have the clearance for self-parking, and I’m sure the valet’s were horrified by the state of the car. Woops! We were given lots of curious glances from other guests in the hotel too.

Once we had showered and cleaned ourselves up, we felt a bit more qualified to be in the hotel, but when I asked the concierge for restaurant suggestions we were showered with “free appetizers” to all the most expensive places in town. “Ummm what do you suggest that’s a little more price-friendly?” I asked sheepishly. Luckily those exist too in San Antonio, but then the concierge invited us to a special event at the Wyndham’s new location… “assuming one of you is over 28?” We apologized and said we weren’t, “Oh well do you live together?” “In the car…” I answered, which was clearly the wrong response. She looked at us, trying to figure out the puzzle, “These people are living out of their car… but they can afford the Wyndham?”

Ryan and I laugh now, but at the time, we just wanted to explain to all the other guests in the hotel who were looking at us like outsiders, and the hotel staff who were trying so hard to help us spend our “money” not to blame us, but blame Groupon. I got a great deal from the discount site before the trip started, which brought the price of this ridiculously nice hotel down to the level of a Holiday Inn Express, our kind of hotel. In any case, we just blushed profusely and told ourselves later that if they don’t want cheap people like us in their hotel, they shouldn’t offer Groupon deals.

Anyway, besides feeling like idiots at the Wyndham, we really enjoyed San Antonio. The river walk area was so much fun to explore and we, (I), loved the history that San Antonio offers on plaques and signs all around the city. Add to that the Hispanic culture and heritage and we were both pretty infatuated with the place.

Then it was off to the state capital!

(Where we stayed at the Courtyard Marriot)

Austin was more a pit stop than anything else. I was able to figure out my computer issues (as in Best Buy upgraded me to a nicer one, hooray!) and Ryan had an informational interview with a company looking to hire actuaries. It was a productive visit, and we even got to see the end of the Cardinal game at a bar downtown while visiting with a friend from home in Colorado.

In San Antonio, we savored Texas beef, yum. In Austin, we had Texas BBQ at Valentina’s (a little food truck attached to a bar) and then Mexican the second night at El Caribe (a little hole in the wall place). The Mexican by far blew our socks off the most, though it was all good. The fajitas that Ryan got especially were beyond awesome and we licked honey off our fingers after scarfing down perfectly puffy sopapillas. In case you haven’t noticed the trend, in cities Ryan and I tend to spend our time walking around and seeing the sights while spending as little money as possible… until dinnertime.

I love cities.

And it didn’t end it Austin. After a couple days respite, we were leaving Texas for more blow-your-mind culinary experiences. The kind you can only have in New Orleans.

Texas Landscapes

2014-09-26T14:24:00.001-07:00

The Guadalupe Mountains rise out of the broad plains of Texas rather abruptly. They begin as rolling hills, but then jut upwards suddenly with granite cliff faces earning them the title of mountains. September is monsoon season in Texas, so the mountains were far greener than Ryan and I could have expected.

We chose a campsite among the cacti, yucca, and twisted desert pines then struck out for a quick hike in Devil’s Staircase before dinner. Because of the rains, it’s more like spring in Texas than fall with fragrant blossoms on cacti and trees alike sending Ryan and me into fits of sneezes. The hike was beautiful though, through a wash that water had carved into a mini slot canyon among the mountains.

On the way back however, my worst nightmare came into reality.

Ryan, who was in the lead, completely missed it, and may have even hit the thing with his shoe, but my eyes were too wary to miss the big, hairy body snuggled into the crack of rock. I gasped, stopping in my tracks and immediately started hyperventilating. Of course I knew we were in this horrible creature’s habitat, we had been for a while actually, but I had still lived in hope that we wouldn’t come across a tarantula – the biggest spider that I’ve now had to see in the wild.

This was actually before we saw the tarantula...

Ryan was of course entranced, and was insisting on taking pictures and throwing rocks to make it move and other boy things while I tried to catch my breath. When he was sufficiently satisfied, and I sufficiently disgusted, we continued back to camp while I prayed all the while we wouldn’t come across another one. We didn’t, not that day…

That night however, we faced a different type of obstacle.

Clouds starting to gather beyond the mountains

A second hurricane in the Pacific had sent yet more rain-laden clouds into the southwest, apparently decimating Phoenix and heading towards Texas. I checked with the rangers about flash flood concerns, but there seemed to be no threat in the park. We ate dinner and got ready for bed while the clouds settled in, and sure enough, at about 11 o’clock the rain started.

Lightening flashed almost constantly, lighting up the tent so we saw red through our eyelids while we tried to sleep. The thunder was intermittent, but with the largest strikes would come crashing through the mountains to further ensure sleep would be a serious difficulty.

After about an hour of hard, steady rain, I decided an inspection of the tent was necessary. Dawning my headlamp I started scouring the tent floor, looking for water soaking in. Ryan joined in the assessment, when we discovered his side was showing more wetness than was comfortable. Looking through the screen, we realized the ground was actually water, and that his tennis shoes were floating in the tent vestibule.

Yup, a good inch of water had flooded our tent pad, and the rain was nowhere near letting up it seemed.

In retrospect, if Ryan and I had just moved everything to the high side of the tent, we may have escaped the situation mostly dry, but as it was, with after all we’d heard about Phoenix, we decided to bail instead. And that’s how we spent the only night of the trip so far in the car – wet, exhausted, and unsure if our tent would be floating or sunk in the morning.

Sure enough, by the time morning came, the tent pad was pretty much dry and the tent itself on track to be dry as well, until another little shower during breakfast guaranteed that everything would be soaking in time to pack it up.

Rain, rain, go away...

Then it was off to Big Bend, with signs of flooding appearing all along the way, though there were nothing but the road to have been affected by it.

Big Bend National Park was genuinely incredible as Ryan and I drove into it. The mountains there are even more dramatic than Guadalupe, and the canyons of the Rio Grande add a neat element to the scenery. Sunset across the Chihuahau desert was really something to behold and the sunrise in the morning lit the canyon walls nearby where we camped.

Our second night in the park was spent in the Chisos Basin portion of the park, which is the most mountainous section. Here, aside from the four types of poisonous snakes, tarantulas, and scorpions, hikers also need to watch out for bears and mountain lions. Fun!

At least it's pretty...

We did two hikes in the area nearby our campground, both leading to incredible vistas of the mountains and the desert below, and on both, we didn’t get to see bears or mountain lions, no no! We got to see more tarantulas! You can just imagine my joy in that.

Having trouble seeing it? Imagine how we felt...

The first one Ryan almost stepped on, (even though it was a the size of our palm), and it reared and hissed at him like no arachnid should ever be capable of, and after that, Ryan and I kept our eyes fixated on the trail. We only stopped to enjoy the scenery after thoroughly surveying the area around us ahead of time.

Aside from just spiders, bugs are also enormous in Texas, which makes me believe the motto “everything is bigger in Texas” was spawned from their insect variety. Fortunately a lot of these bugs also happened to be pretty. Like these grasshoppers:

And these lizards (no, not insects, but still something that crawls on the ground...)

And there were lots of pretty flowers...

But then there were also enormous bees (I was stung on the leg), and centipedes and millipedes that were not quite so beautiful to behold. We even came across some kind of worm creature that was transparent, as in we could see its stomach and kidneys through the thing. Weird.

So basically Big Bend is an amazing landscape, buuuuuuuttttt between the bugs, the spiders, the scorpions, and the snakes, it may not be for everyone. I can’t help but say I was a little relieved to head towards the city after our wet, spider-filled experience in the Texas desert. Hey at least we survived!

It was still pretty...

Psyche!

2014-09-23T16:01:00.000-07:00

There was a lot of concern when Ryan and I started our trip that our itinerary would restrict what we were able to do in order to follow our full schedule of locations to see and activities to do. While we wish we could be completely spontaneous, our limited budget doesn’t allow for many deviations, since those tend to rack up our costs.

However, we were able to make one pretty big detour… we went to Colorado!

Yup! We decided to scrap our plans of camping in monument valley and instead camped here:

Ryan had never been to Mesa Verde, or at least that was the excuse, and I have to say I enjoyed being in my home state for a time anyway.

After that we had a second deviation from the plan (whoa, crazy!) where we went to Santa Fe for the night rather than Jemez Springs where we were going to camp. We really needed a pit stop after all the dusty canyons and muddy flood runoff, and so we found a deal online to spend the night in the city. The highlight of our night there was most certainly the Mexican dinner we had, which was at a hole-in-the-wall place clearly owned and run by one very industrious Hispanic family who couldn’t be kinder to us. Tacos, enchiladas, rice and beans was certainly a welcome change from pasta dinners like we normally eat, and Ryan and I practically rolled out of the place.

From there, we had one last stop before heading leaving New Mexico, a different sort of scenery from what we’re used to…

Carlsbad Caverns was a unique stop because it’s one of the few caves that I’ve been to (or remember being to), that allows you to explore the cave without a tour. Of course you have to stay on designated paths and behind railings, but nonetheless descending into the cave from the natural entrance deep into the dark, humid blackness felt sort of like we were discovering it for the first time.

Since we could walk about self-guided, the information plaques and lighting were also very well done, with features like the Lion’s Tails and Fairy Garden well marked and also aptly named. One of my favorites was the “Chandelier” pictured below, which was splendidly illuminated in such a way that made you feel like you were in an art museum as much as a cave.

Another favorite was Mirror Pool, mostly because the clever rangers had posted the sign written upside down and backwards, so that to read what the feature was, you had to look into… Mirror Pool! Haha! It took Ryan far too long to figure it out much to my amusement.

And the final awesome thing about the cave?

Yup! Flush toilets! All the way down there. Mind blown!

In total, from Mesa Verde to Carlsbad, our little deviations ended up being well worth the little extra cost, and we have even more places checked off our list. Now it’s off to the land of Southern hospitality and liquid gold… Texas here we come!

Only in the Southwest

2014-09-23T12:44:00.002-07:00

After Zion National Park, it was a quick drive over to Bryce Canyon National Park where we cooked dinner and watched the sunset light up this unique view.

(Ryan took this picture)

We’ve seen lots of mountains, lakes, ocean, forest, but there’s nothing quite like the Southwest. Exploring Bryce the next morning gave views like this, which simply cannot be paralleled elsewhere in the United States.

Our drive from Bryce Canyon took us through Monument Valley, a final solute to the incredible beauty of the Southwest. Some of the monoliths were lit my sunshine, but behind us, a lightning storm darkened the clouds and created purple silhouettes of the rock monuments.

We’ve loved pretty much every moment of this trip, and each region has a place in our hearts in their own right, but Ryan and I agree that between Havasu, Antelope Canyon, Zion, and all the adventures they entailed, this part of the trip has been the most memorable. We can only be thankful for our luck in missing all the crazy weather and for the opportunity to be seeing all these places at all. This part of our trip proves we’re never going to forget this amazing time of our lives and again, we couldn’t be more grateful for everyone that’s helped us to make it possible. Much love!

Hiking in God’s Land

2014-09-23T08:53:00.002-07:00

Zion National Park has always been a religious place for the people living among its sandstone cliff walls. The Mormons, who were instrumental in the canyon becoming a national park, granted many of the features their biblical names, like the three Patriarch Peaks – Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Hiking among the incredible scenery of this Utah park, it was easy to see how early settlers and Native Americans alike found the place to be a natural cathedral worthy of worship.

The first task Ryan and I decided to undertake was to summit Angel’s Landing, a huge monolith of rock piercing the sky with its knife edged cliffs. The trail to the summit is an engineering feat worthy of mentioning, with “The Wiggles” section claiming probably the most intense switchbacks I’ve ever climbed. Then of course there’s the final pitch to the summit, a Class Three scramble with thousand foot drops on either side.

Ryan accomplished this rather daunting feat a few years ago, holding his own by becoming friendly with one of the few trees on the top of the summit (as in clinging to it for dear life). This time, he let me continue on the heart-stopping final pitch on my own, not wishing to relive the narrowness and crazy heights a second time.

It was most certainly narrow, and most certainly harrowing, but I found myself pretty comfortable making the hike to the top thanks to all the chain railings bored into the rock. As long as I had one of those chains to hang on to, I felt pretty confident there was no way I’d fall, and so the edge sometimes a foot or two away never seemed to scare me too bad.

I snapped a couple pictures at the top, then hurried down to the wider spot where Ryan was trying not to hyperventilate watching others pick their way up the ridge of rock.

That feat accomplished, the other highlight of Zion National Park that Ryan and I couldn’t wait to undertake was the Narrows hike – one of the west’s most famous backpacking trips.

The Virgin River, which has carved Zion Canyon to be what it is today, flows south from Chamberlain Ranch outside the park, creating a 16 miles stretch of canyon that hikers can explore with an overnight permit and a shuttle to the top. Again, Ryan and I were very lucky, because it was this canyon system that had flooded in the “100 year flood” all the rain had brought. By the time we started our hike though, the river was down to 42 cubic feet per second, the high during the flood was 4200cfs.

Another possible setback was the shuttle to Chamberlain Ranch where the canyon begins. The mud that the rain makes in this area can be absolutely detrimental to vehicles, gumming up the tires and undercarriage like thick peanut butter. Fortunately however, our driver was a man named John, who likes nothing better in life it seems than negotiating muddy, wet roads.

John is a character worth mentioning with his long, unruly white hair, lined leathery face, and semi-crazed blue eyes. He’s been working odd jobs as park ranger, maintenance guy, and shuttle driver for a few years and he had lots of stories to tell from his years in the Southwest.

One of our favorites went something like this:

“You see that ranch over there? They have guests in the summer and they’re famous for having this huge slip and slide thing they water down with irrigation water. Anyway there were a bunch of kids over their one day sliding and after I dropped off the folks in the van, I stopped on the way out to watch ‘um. They were having such a blast sliding down the thing and laughing and stuff and I was having a blast just watchin ‘um when I noticed the parents lookin in my direction. Anyway I had to get in the van and get outta there quick before someone reported some person in a white van watching all the kids.” And then he laughed jollily at the situation. With the way John looks, the white van was the least of what would provoke suspicion in the parents at the ranch, though his spirit is kindly enough. When we told him of our adventure, he decided we were two of the coolest people he’d ever met, and I’m sure he’ll tell the story of the crazy kids he met who were touring the county during one of his other shuttle runs.

Back to the Narrows, the trail begins very subtly, winding through ranch land with cows for company. Suddenly though, the trail leads to the river, and from there, its water walking or picking along the shore all the way down to the park.

The canyon varies in width, but we were certainly most impressed in the sections from which the trail gets its name, where the walls thrust up from the river a thousand feet and the channel spans five to ten feet. In these places, there’s nothing to do but wade - ankle deep, knee deep, thigh deep, sometimes waist deep. The water was a murky muddy from the flood, which made progress tough
since we couldn’t see where we were placing our feet on the river floor. New snags also made progress interesting, especially in narrow places where the river had wedged huge tree trunks crosswise across the canyon from the torrent of the flood. We had to pick our way through some interesting obstacles as a result.

We camped at the first campsite, which is at the junction of the Virgin and Big Creek, a tributary which actually supplies most of the Virgin’s water. We had to climb around a 12 foot waterfall to reach camp, (see below), and had been hiking for a good six hours. The junction was a beautiful place to camp, with three canyons (Big Creek, The Virgin River, and their combination), spreading away like arteries from our camp on a sandbar. We slept with the rainfly off, admiring the stars peaking from the three slits above.

Day two somehow became even more scenic, as we passed Big Spring and entered Wall Street, the most impressive portion of the canyon we had seen thus far. At this point we started to encounter day hikers, who are allowed to hike as far as the Big Spring before turning around. These people ended up being valuable assets, explaining where the deep parts of the river were and how to avoid them. One area though was supposed to be unavoidable swimming, as several upriver hikers had testified. By the time we got there though, someone had figured out where the shallowest area of the pool was, along the cliff face on a little shelf underwater, which allowed you to only get waist deep or so, assuming you didn’t slip off in which case it was up to your neck.

Gingerly, I stepped out into the water, probing with my walking stick with each step and managing to only get waist deep as predicted. Ryan, meanwhile, had made a personal goal of staying as dry as possible, and did not like the sight of my soaking shorts. He decided to poise himself like a cat on the steep wall of the cliff as it tapered into the water, and make the leap to a similar, steep face across the deepest portion of the traverse. Here’s how that went: (click here if video does not load).

All I can say is he’s lucky he’s so athletic.

By the time we reached the mouth of the canyon, and the shuttle bus to take us back to our car, we were convinced that the Narrows was our favorite backpacking route of the trip in terms of the hike itself. The technicality of the river made the hike very interesting, and the scenery was so unique, it’s hard for any mountain scene to beat. The huge canyon walls, striped with black and brown and riddled with gaping cracks and arches were more than enough to humble us, tiny ants that we were in God’s land.

Testing... Testing...

2014-09-23T08:10:00.002-07:00

Once again, I apologize for the delay in new content. After just two weeks of use, it became apparent that my new laptop could no longer connect to the internet, and a visit to the Microsoft store left them stumped as well (though it was quite amusing watching them struggle with Windows 8.1 after they trumpeted it as being the "best operating system on the market").

Anyway, it was "recommended" by the "experts" at Microsoft that I turn in my computer and get a new one from Best Buy since I was within their return period, which I was finally able to accomplish yesterday. Actually, I was upgraded to a nicer computer since they were out of my model, and so far, I'm able to connect again!

I've heard of other issues with the blog since my computer was stolen, such as the subscription emails not being sent, and I sincerely apologize for that issue. I've tried to correct the problem, and hope it's been resolved.

Thanks again for all your readership and be on the look out for several posts today as I try to catch up now that I have internet access.

Yay technology!

Canyons Big and Small

2014-09-17T08:11:00.002-07:00

After venturing out of the side canyon of the Havasupai Indian Reservation, we headed to the national park and the main event of the canyon system so famous in this part of the world.

Ryan had never seen the Grand Canyon before, and there was concern that that would still be the case as we pulled up to the entrance booth of the national park. “Obstructed view due to cloud cover. No Refunds,” a poster on the ranger’s window said, making Ryan and me groan. And yet, when we reached the canyon edge, this is what we saw…

Ryan and I have always counted ourselves as lucky, you know, being as we met on another continent and all, but how lucky we got in the Southwest is worth a quick aside.

The hurricane that was raging in the middle of the Pacific a few weeks ago was creating huge, rain-laden storm systems that wound up drifting right over the region that Ryan and I anticipated the least amount of precipitation. We certainly expected to be soaked in the Northwest, which never actually happened, but storms in the deserts of the southwest were never something we thought could impede our plans there. Yet, before we started our descent into the Havasu canyon system, we were warned of potential flash flooding, which has the ability to leave tourists and Havasupai alike stranded in the canyon. We took our chances (perhaps stupidly), and sure enough, it wasn’t Havasu that flooded, it was Las Vegas, where we were the night before.

As we hiked out of Havasu canyon, rain was falling and a muddy stream had formed in what was the dry canyon a few days before. While a flood watch was in effect for the canyon, flash flooding on the hike out wasn’t as a great a concern, since the trail was wide enough to avoid significant flooding. Regardless, we learned that we had dodged another bullet. Apparently, when there’s enough rainfall, the side canyons can drain into the crystal waters of the Havasu canyon, turning the pristine paradise into a muddier version that certainly does not entice swimmers.

We were marveling at how lucky we were on that front, and even more so to get a clear view of the Grand Canyon, with blue skies and only a few clouds far in the horizon.

Our luck didn’t end there though. One of the activities of the trip I was very excited for was a photographic tour of the most photographed canyon in the world. Yup, even more so than the Grand Canyon. It’s a tiny, tiny slot canyon found in an equally sized town in the middle of Navajo Nation, just an inconspicuous crack in a stone wall. Yet, Antelope Canyon is one of the most beautiful canyons I have ever beheld.

It can be deadly though, because a wall of water in that canyon is completely and utterly unescapable. And of course, the first day they were letting tours back into the canyon after the storm threat had abated was the day Ryan and I showed up for our tour. Boy do we owe some Karma to someone.

Ryan and I took separate tours into the slot canyon (being as tours are required and only I could go on the photography tour with my fancy camera), but the tours provided almost as much entertainment as the canyon itself brought awe-inspiring beauty.

Ryan’s tour was being followed by a huge group of Asian individuals who spoke not a lick of English, and were trying to be acquainted with all the formations of the canyon via their English speaking guide. Keep note that this canyon at its widest is maybe three yards across, but typically ranges between one and two yards wide. The big tour group following Ryan could easily be heard jostling and bumping about the walls of the canyon, while their tour guide would point to some feature, then point to his guide book which showed George Washington, or a dancing bear, or some other photo that the feature in the canyon was supposed to look like. “Oooooo George Waaahhh-shiiiiing-tuuuun!!” they’d all exclaim in excitement when they saw the likeness. This provided ample entertainment for Ryan as he wound his way through the canyon with his own guide.

As for me, I was grouped with four other anxious photographers and a Navajo woman I quickly dubbed “Mama Bear” who was our guide in the canyon. Mama Bear has photographed the canyon many times herself, and has been taking tour groups for the past seven years. Her job was to not only show us the best places to photograph the waves of the canyon walls, the bright sunbeams, and the dark purple corners, but also to chase all the other tourists out of our shots. Now this is no small feat given that 400 people were expected to be in the quarter mile expanse of the canyon throughout the day, and the 10:15 tour is the most popular since it affords the best light.

The result, was that Mama Bear, with her sizable girth and no nonsense bark literally sent all other tourists high tailing it out of wide chambers and narrow passageways alike. One woman made the mistake of coming into the deserted chamber where we were photographing, completely unaware of all of us with our tripods and huge lenses and stuff. I almost felt bad for her when Mama Bear noticed, and while she didn’t speak English (she may have been a part of the tour group following Ryan’s), she was quick to understand Mama Bear’s tones and gestures as she was shooed out of the way.

Needless to say, I was glad to have Mama Bear on our side, and she conferred with the other guides in Navajo to make sure we photographers got the best opportunity to shoot. This environment also made for the most high intensity photography I could possibly imagine, with Mama Bear instructing us wear to place our tripods, what settings to try for the particular shot, and then to GO GO GO! as we raced to the next photo spot with the best light. The narrowness of the canyon means that light beams shift frequently and fast, so it goes without saying my heart was pumping throughout the process to try and get the best photos while also staying on Mama Bear’s good side. I was pretty happy with what I got.

It just goes to show how beautiful large and small canyons alike can really be.

The next part of our journey was to Zion National Park, to appear in the next blog, but it’s worth mentioning that our good luck didn’t end even with Antelope Canyon. Zion had experienced a huge, 100-year flood with logs and silt pouring down the canyon in the Virgin River just a few days before we arrived. Yet by the time we got there, the rangers were allowing hikers back into the Narrows canyon, and the road was passable for the first time the day we needed the shuttle to the beginning of the hike. Seriously. We are the luckiest people ever.

Stay tuned for the Narrows then, coming up next!