Today was a day to drive. Sunrise on top of Wheeler Peak found us headed down and out of the Great Basin. The park is essentially on the Utah border, so our drive today is mostly a traverse of the beehive state. HWY 50 takes us halfway across and then we switch to Interstate 70 for the remainder, and on into Colorado.
Continue reading “Great Basin to Black Canyon of the Gunnison”
Great Basin goes on my list of secret parks. Not that people don’t know about it, or come to visit it. Just that it is so much more mellow, more remote, more available to you when you are here. 4,000 feet of altitude from the lower camps to the upper camp, a actual glacier on the mountaintop, high mountain lakes, the oldest trees on the continent, wildlife, diverse flora, and what feels like very little traffic. Good recipe.
We left Yosemite to the east which afforded us a chance to see a huge section of the park that, at least from the looks of things, doesn’t get the traffic we found in the Valley. The Eastern section is high Sierra at its finest. Anchored by Toulumne Meadow and the granite domes of Medicott, Fairview, Pothole and Lembert, the trip out via HWY 120 is just wonderful.
It was hard to leave Atwell Grove. Only the promise of the road ahead could pry us out of that magical spot. Our plan was to head back down to the main entrance to Sequoia, follow the General’s Highway to the see the largest tree on the planet and hopefully get an education on these giants in the museum and to do all that before the crowds arrived. Then head out into Sequoia National Forest to a place called Big Meadow and spend the afternoon fishing Big Meadow Creek.
We opted to spend our first night in the southern portion of Sequoia National Park known as Mineral King. You turn off before the main park entrance and drive an hour and half up and into the area. Unlike the roads of yesterday which drew you up to speed and then threatened you with sudden death hairpins, this route in just requires an absolute adherence to a speed of about 15 miles an hour. You can never take your eyes off the road and there is no straight in it. It is about 1 1/2 cars wide but folks we met (two) were exceedingly courteous and appeared perfectly willing to notify the authorities should we tumble over the edge. We didn’t, and in fact, enjoyed the drive. Something about having to just go slow causes you to absorb a little more of what is happening. What is happening is a steady preparation for the impact of an up close view of a living thing that is over 2,000 years old. You see a giant sequoia immediately on the roadside just before you enter the park proper. It stopped our breath. Collectively.
As often happens in the hours following a harrowing experience, morning broke atop Telescope Peak in Death Valley with utmost peace. The sun was out, it was a cool 49 degrees and one would never know that only hours before we had been in the midst of chaos. Over coffee and breakfast we discussed the drive down the mountain. We reviewed the several places that were likely to have washed out in the storm and so in the middle of the peaceful morning we dredged up a box full of worries.
Continue reading “Out of the Valley of Death Rode…the two of us”
Sunrise in Joshua Tree at 60 degrees after an uninterrupted 8 hours of sleep is close to perfection. And I only say close because we have more to see and do. We make coffee and eat tortillas with apple butter and watch as the landscape brightens and takes form.
The Saguaro cactus increases its chance of survival several-fold if it takes root under the shade of a Palo Verde or Mesquite tree. The seedling and young plant are protected from the elements and given time to dig deep and establish a good foundation. At Saguaro National Park just outside of Tucson, you can see this happening and mark the progress from tiny bump in the ground to soaring 75 foot tall giant. In a 2008 FJ Cruiser now 2000 miles from home, we are living it out. Granted, the seedling is 6’3″ and the old Palo Verde is shrinking and wrinkling every day, but I still like the metaphor.
Technically a rhumb line is a navigational term for a heading that crosses every longitudinal meridian at exactly the same angle relative to true north — so on the surface of the earth, it has a kind of spiral look to it. On a map, it looks like the shortest distance between two points. In a car, it looks like Interstate 20 from Atlanta to Big Spring Texas. Bags packed, geared stowed and secured, music selected, sunglasses adjusted, we headed west at 5 o’clock in the afternoon and we didn’t stop until we hit Carlsbad Cavern National Park 1,400 miles later.
Well we are in the final stages of prep for another adventure. In Australia I have heard them refer to these sorts of things as “walkabouts” where you head out with no real agenda or plan, and just enjoy the experience. We are a little more organized than that – we know generally where we are going and when we expect to get back – but not too much. The point of these things is equal parts what we go to and what we leave behind. For a time, we leave everything, on purpose, to make room for new experiences. There just happens to be a ton to leave behind this trip, and that somehow makes it seem more valuable. Both of us are ready for what is possible and we have that great sense of expectation that my grandmother used to call being “journey proud”. We will make a great loop from home to Carlsbad, Guadalupe Mountains, Saguaro, Joshua Tree, Death Valley, Kings Canyon/Great Sequoia, Yosemite, Great Basin and Black Canyon of the Gunnison and back home. We will see things, great things and not so great, we will share the experience of leaving behind and going to. And we will come home. Watch here for our wanderings along the way.
Rope and Chain 