Day 23, August 10: Piled Posts, Water Falls, Ghost Towns, and Hot Springs - Mammoth

Day 23, August 10: Piled Posts, Water Falls, Ghost Towns, and Hot Springs - Mammoth

Wow. What a day this has been. I had been in a little of a funk yesterday after the morning hike in the tree zoo and the driving and the figuring out a game plan for today and tomorrow, but did that ever clear up quickly today.

I prepped for my hike by making my lunch and finally settling on a trail. Not being familiar with the trails and not having anyone I could find to ask about them, I was at a bit of a loss. I finally asked once more at the convenience store this morning about the two options I was considering, and I received a definitive answer – don’t miss Devil’s Post Pile and Rainbow Falls. So my basic route was chosen; I fine-tuned it talking to the ranger at the trail head.

You know it’s funny. A few times on this trip, I’ve questioned the whole hiking thing either at night when I’m exhausted or in the morning as I’m getting ready. It is a lot of work. Not only all the preparations – packing the day pack, packing my lunch, selecting a trail, and, when in bear country, securing any food in the available food lockers – take a lot of effort, but my body feels it. I’m often stiff and sore after a hike, especially the longer more strenuous ones, and sometimes I’m still feeling it the next day.

I felt that way last night. As I considered the rest of the trip and where I would hike, I thought, “Do I really want to hike any more? Haven’t I done enough on this trip already?” I got my answer this morning. As I strode off along a well-traveled trail, my energy soared and my step lightened. It was a fabulous morning and I was enjoying it in a way I’ve come to love. So yes. It’s worth all the trouble and the aches and pains.

To get to the trailhead, I had to take a shuttle bus. I wasn’t sure about having to do that – I seem to hate to give up control – but it turned out to be a pleasant ride. The driver worked some to entertain us, but not so much that it was annoying.

Once at the trailhead, as I said, the trail began as a well-traveled path, taking me to Devil’s Post Pile. It is an interesting coincidence that three weeks ago today I hiked around Devil’s Tower. They are both formed by the same volcanic lava flow; Devil’s Tower is just standing upright and the Post Pile is scattered and laid over at an angle in addition to standing upright. It was amazing to see that those “posts” that make up the Tower and Pile are hexagon in shape – that’s how they harden. Walking on the uprighted ends of those today was like walking on a tiled floor. And to see them tilted and extended out from the mountain face was amazing.

I continued on to Rainbow Falls, which is a beautiful water fall. The trail leads to the top of the falls, but you can walk down a large number of stairs and then rocks and stand in the water below the falls. It was a hot morning, and the cool mist from the waterfall felt lovely after the three mile hike in sun and dust.

One other thing that was interesting on this first part of the hike was that it led through a forest that had been damaged extensively last November in a freak windstorm. Winds came up from the east at 160 – 180 miles per hour and tore an estimated 40,000 trees from the ground. The trees were vulnerable because the wind came from the east instead of the west, and the root system on the trees is weaker on that side. The downed trees had been cleared from the paths and the roads after much effort, but the forest floor was scattered with these felled trees. It was quite the phenomenon to see.

My lunchroom

After leaving the falls, I took the advice of the ranger I talked to and headed up to a small lake. I encountered a few hikers along the way, but when I got there, I was alone. I hiked around the lake, and found a secluded little glen with a nice view of the lake to sit and have my lunch. I couldn’t help but think how fortunate I am to have this experience. And how happy I am that I enjoy my solitude as much as I do. I’ve come to be more and more comfortable in solitude, and I believe it’s become something that is essential to me. It will be interesting to go back to work and my daily life and have so little of it comparatively.

After riding the bus back after my hike, I headed up to Bodie State Historical Park, a ghost town I was told not to miss. And again, I had been led in the right direction. What an amazing place. This town was a booming gold mine town in the late 1800s that was wild and dangerous and prosperous. By the mid-1900s it was empty. Many, many of the building, and the mine, remain. Walking through this town, I was moved so much. The evidence of these lives lived here and the fact that these people simply walked away from it all baffles me. This town had once been the largest in the county, and now it’s completely vacant.

I felt a familiarity there that I can’t explain except by my belief in reincarnation.  I believe we come to this earth as human beings to learn specific lessons we choose at a soul level before coming. We choose the best environment in which to learn those lessons, and that is the life we’re born into. I don’t believe in the punishment thing or that we come back as a cow or a snake or anything like that – it’s more of an evolutionary move – we are continually evolving toward being awake and aware spiritually – to a greater state of enlightenment. If we don’t learn the things we need to learn in this lifetime, we’ll just keep coming back to learn it again because we want to learn. It’s sort of like a college class. You sign up for it, and if you don’t get it, you can retake it. And sometimes, we drop the class, but that is a whole other discussion.

Imagine me in a dance-hall girl dress - can't you see it?

So when I was there, I felt at home. And I suddenly thought of some of the important people in my life, and envisioned myself and many of them as specific people in that town. Now maybe this was just a silly, fun exercise with my imagination, but who knows? It may just be that many of us were there.  That is another one of my beliefs about reincarnation; we kind of evolve with a cohort. The important people in our lives show up in other lives too, gender and age-relationship flexible. So my father in this life could be my daughter in another.  Whether this is “true” or not, I can’t be sure, but it was sure fun to imagine Jesse as the town’s preacher and Robin as my cowboy friend. I was a dance hall girl, as was my daughter Emilie, and Anna was the sheriff, and Nick, well Nick was just a rowdy cowhand in my imagined town of Bodie, CA, circa 1880. All that aside, this was a great experience and the town well worth a visit.

My last stop for the day was to find the natural hot springs Mammoth has been known for. The parks service shut down the ones on park land – you can’t wander into a cold stream in the national forest and find the hot spot anymore. But there are a few on private land and anyone, if he or she can find them, can take a dip. A girl at the convenience store where I stopped gave me directions: “Take the Green Church road (not an actual name, just a road with a green church on the corner) past three cattle guards. Then take the first dirt road to the right after that.”  Sounds easy, right? Not so much.

I found the road, and yes, the green church is pretty obvious, and carefully counted the cattle guards (dodging the lolling cattle on either side of the road) and turned down a gravel road that seem right. A few cars turned in after me. But it didn’t seem right, so I turned around. I went to a campground just a little further down the road. The store was all closed up (it was only about 6 p.m.) but there was a trailer next to it with the door open. I hollered hello. A large woman and her large daughter lifted the blanket that was hung across the doorway.

“Yeah?” the woman asked.

“I have two questions for you,” I said in my sweetest voice. “First, I see you have a bath house and I wondered if I could buy a shower even though  I’m not staying here.”

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s $2.”

“Oh wonderful! Now my second question is about the hot springs.”

They both laughed and she said, “I thought that’d come up.” She and the girl commenced to try to explain where I went wrong and how to get there. They said, yes, what I heard was right, it was clothing optional, and because of that I might see “a beached whale.” At that they both laughed loud, and I joined in, you know, just to be polite. The story ends up with me having a fabulous shower with both hot water and electricity to blow dry and straighten my hair for the first time in three showers. It felt downright luxurious. I also left with some – kind of – better directions to the hot springs.

After two wrong dirt roads, I finally found the right one, and drove to a boardwalk stretching across a large cow pasture. I parked and followed the boardwalk, fully intending to join the trend if the people there had opted for the no clothing choice (this is California, you know), to a small stream and some scattered pools. And a multi-generational family there, clothed or swim-suited, lounging in one of them. A few other swim-suited people were lounging in other hot water pools, so I sighed, sad that I missed my opportunity to be risqué, and put my feet in to soak the trail-soreness out of them. The water was indeed hot, and it felt fabulous.

So now I’m sitting by my fire, having grilled myself a steak for a late supper, feeling full. Full of good food, great experiences, and gratitude for every little thing in my “stupid little life,” as Lester Burnham says in “American Beauty.” And, Ricky Fitts, you are right. There is just so much beauty in the world . . .

Day 22, August 9: Heading Back East

Day 22, August 9: Heading Back East

Today I began to move back east. Not very far east, but I’ve crossed over the Sierra Nevada. In fewer than 10 days I’ll be home, so it’s time to start heading that way.

I began the morning by first heading south. Although I’d spent most my time in the Sequoias at Kings Canyon, I wanted to visit Sequoia National Park to see the General Sherman, the largest tree in the world.

General Sherman

It was about an hour drive to get there, and then I took a three mile hike around the grove where the Sherman is. It was an interesting experience after the hike I took yesterday in a natural grove. The path leading down to the General Sherman was paved with informational signs dotting the route, and signs continually warned tourists that the hike back up to the parking lot was strenuous because of the elevation gain. This was in such sharp contrast to the experience I had yesterday, but I was intent on seeing the tree.

The tree itself is amazing. There are taller trees in the world, and trees with bigger girth in the world, but this tree has the largest mass of any other tree. The tree is about 2200 years old, and the top has died, so it won’t get any taller. But it continues to put on girth every year. It is fenced in and protected from the public, so one can’t get all the way up next to it. 

The Sherman is one of many huge trees in this grove. They are named for other officers – The General Lee tree for example. There is also The President’s tree and the Senate, a group of close-standing trees. I took the two mile hike around to look at the trees, but I have to say, it was an almost unpleasant experience. Most of the trees are approachable, unlike the Sherman, but there is no doubting this is a controlled area. The trees don’t look the same – it’s as if they are unhappy. And the energy is different there. The best comparison I can make is to compare visiting animals in a zoo as compared to seeing them in the wild. This felt like a zoo for these big trees.

I was glad I made the trip and the short hike around the grove, but I was also very disturbed by the whole experience. I understand that this is the only way some people are able to experience these trees, but it seems so artificial and, more than that, it seemed that in some weird way the trees are damaged by this. I know it sounds as if I’m giving personality and mental capacity to these trees, but I don’t have any other way to express the feeling I had.

Another look at Yosemite

After that strenuous climb up the paved path back to the parking lot, I left the grove and drove north. There are only three places to cross the Sierra Nevada, and the closest one for me was Tioga Pass through Yosemite. So I went back to Yosemite, and seeing the park from west to east instead of the opposite provided a wholly different perspective. Parts were breathtaking and I hadn’t seen them the first time through. I was glad I was able to get one more look at the park.

Mono Lake

After crossing over the pass, Mono Lake loomed on the horizon, and in the distance, a wild fire was raging on the mountains beyond. Just above the thick smoke coming off the mountain, was a huge thunderhead, bubbling even higher than the smoke. I pulled over and just looked at it. I wish pictures could capture the beauty of all that I’m seeing, but it’s just too big to capture in an image.

I ended up the day not too far from Yosemite at Mammoth Lakes. This is a busy tourist town, but it feels comfortable.  I found a nice campground and a grocery store to replenish my supplies – convenience store prices were killing me, especially convenience stores at national parks. Mammoth Lakes is a center point of the eastern Sierras, and I understand there is much to experience here.  I’m going to start looking for those experiences tomorrow.

I am feeling the pull toward home though. Steinbeck wrote, in “Travels with Charley,” that no matter how we plan a journey, it’s over when it’s over, even if there is more time to be spent on the road. Although mine is not quite telling me that it’s time, I feel the message is getting close. I look forward to the next two days here as there’s some hiking to do and some sights to see. And then, I’ll be marching in an easterly direction.

Day 21, August 8: More Big Trees

Day 21, August 8: More Big Trees

 I headed out of Cedar Grove this morning, making the near-hour drive to the main part of Kings Canyon Park. I made it a leisurely morning, stopping in at the store to grab a cup of coffee, and met a wonderful couple from the East Coast. They were taking pictures of all the post offices they come across as they travel from L.A. to San Francisco, and I offered to be their photographer. 

Stopped here on the way in to eat my breakfast

The drive to the trailhead

One of the smaller trees on the drive

After a short chat with them, I headed for the trailhead of the hike I had planned. The area is called Redwood Canyon and it’s the largest area of unlogged sequoia forest on earth. I reached the trailhead at 10:30, ready to hike. I wasn’t sure if I’d take the single loop of Hart’s Tree or combine it with the Sugar Bowl Loop, making the hike 10 miles. I decided to wait and see how I felt when I came to the junction. Since I was getting a late start, I wasn’t sure if I’d want to do the longer one.

As soon as I began the hike, it was clear this is a place the likes of which I’ve never encountered. The trees, right away, were astonishing. I had been to the redwoods on the California coast last year, but I hadn’t hiked among them. And while those trees get taller than sequoias, the ones here have more girth and mass. They also have a lovely, unique shape – the bunches of needles are rounded rather than elongated and pointed.

Tunnel Tree - the trail goes through it

Large pine cones for large trees

Hart's Tree - the largest in this grove

Water so clear - see the fish?

I don’t know if I could even describe this forest. It is thick in some places, and sparse in others. And always, these big trees, massive trees, shoot up from the floor. I took pictures of myself standing near the trees, and the impact of their size is still baffling. I walked through a hollowed out, felled tree, I walked between cut pieces of trunk that reached over my head. I forded streams and climbed steep grades. This was one of the most memorable hikes I’ve taken.

Lunch at the junction

One of the best features of the hike was the lack of other humans. In the 10 miles, about five hours, I saw four groups of hikers. I encountered a couple coming out from camping, a single hiker going in to camp, a young couple venturing in just a little way, and a group of three hikers who had gotten lost and I had to redirect them. Other than that, it was just these massive trees, the birds, the wildlife, and me. I’ve never had such solitude in such a place, and it gave me a feeling of being somewhere that demands reverence.

At the junction where the initial trail I was hiking met up with the second trail, the Sugar Bowl Loop, I had hiked about five miles. The terrain had been a little varied, but nothing severe. And the energy from the trees – I felt as if I’d just begun the hike. So I decided to venture on for the full distance. And as I began the second loop, I began to climb.

There is a payoff for climbing

I could see the tops of the trees in Sugar Bowl Grove

Now I had read the description of this second loop, and I understood I would be ascending. I had no idea how steep the ascent would be, but I soon found out. I climbed about 2000 feet from the bottom of the canyon to the top of a mountain in about two and a half miles. I thought it would never end, and I started to wonder if it was worth it. And there was little shade for much of the climb as I’d left most of the trees behind.

Sacred place

But then, when I thought I could stand it no more, I came to this place, this Sugar Bowl Grove of “young” sequoias. These trees were massive, but had a feeling of youth to them. And there were so many. They shot up out of the top of the mountain. I immediately felt, again, that peace and calm that comes from standing among these trees. I have no idea why this happens, but the effect is inescapable. As the solitary hiker I encountered on his way to camp up there said, “The place is sacred.” And it is.

Burnt Grove-these trees survive fire

I could barely force myself to continue on the hike; I longed to linger longer. I can’t imagine how wonderful it would be to sleep there. Maybe someday I’ll get that wilderness permit and do just that. But I continued on, and only had about two more miles to the trailhead. The trail raced downhill, and in parts that is as uncomfortable and difficult as climbing. But before long I was at the car, headed back to civilization, a shower, and my campsite.

At my campground

It’s been a good evening. I’m relaxed and have enjoyed cooking a burger over a fire I had to struggle to light (I was out of kindling, had to find what I could and supplement it with cardboard) and posting pictures from the last two days’ blogs. The feeling of peace has stayed with me since leaving the forest. Of course, there are sequoias here, in the campground too. What a gift.

I plan tomorrow to shoot down to the actual Sequoia National Park, see the General Sherman, the largest tree in the world, take in a few other parts of that park, and then head out to cross the Sierras. I love these mountains, and I’ll be sorry to leave them. But I’m eager to see what’s next as I wind down this last week of adventure.

Day 20, August 7: Bear!

Day 20, August 7: Bear!

Okay, so I’m not good at suspense. It did happen early in the day, but I finally saw a bear. And up close.

I began my hike today at 8 a.m.  The ranger had suggested a hike that would take me up about 1200 feet and would be about nine miles long by the time I was back at my car, so I took her advice. I couldn’t help but think, as I headed out in the early morning sunshine, under these magnificent trees, what a glorious was it was to start the day. What a morning walk, no?

So I’m striding along, full of energy (always a sign it’s early in a hike), admiring the way the sunlight comes over the mountains and through the trees, and I think to myself, “Oh, there’s a bear.” Then I stop. “THERE’S A BEAR!” I pulled out my camera and began snapping shots. He was just a little fellow, and seemed totally unmoved by seeing me. I, surprisingly, had no fear at all. I watched as he hunted for food under a tree and crossed the trail a time or two. He was probably within 25 feet of me at one time, and we made eye contact a few times.

I don’t know how long I would have stood there watching him, mesmerized, but I saw a group of horses coming. I motioned and the girl riding the first horse said she saw him. She was leading two pack mules and another rider was bringing up the rear. The horses were not as nonchalant about seeing the bear as he was to see me. They shied and the girl had her hands full getting them past him and me. The bear kind of loped a little away too, but he seemed really calm – at least much calmer than the horses and mules.

After that, how could my day possibly be anything but wonderful? I did ruminate a little about the bear sighting. I’ve wanted so much to see one, and I’ve peered into numerous underbrushes and meadows, looking hard. And when I do see him, I’m not looking. He’s just there. I wonder if much of what I want in life – love, awareness, happiness – simply alights on us as we’re going about our business. I have a card at home that says, “The Dharma is like love. It simply shows up one day – be ready when it does.” That’s what my bear was. He just showed up and I was ready.

My lunchroom

The rest of the hike was lovely. The first two miles were easy with little elevation gain, and then I came to Bubbs Trail, which was basically just a whole lot of switchbacks going up the mountain, rising that 1200 feet in a few miles. I climbed it to where it joined the Sphinx Trail and had lunch there. The Sphinx Trail and River are named for a rock formation that sits atop a mountain – it looks like the Sphinx. What a lovely place to have lunch – not a human around and surrounded by trees, mountains, and rocks. I’ll remember that lunch room when I’m at the café at WITCC this winter. I took a timed picture of myself, and settled in to eat my lunch.

The hike back was much less strenuous – hiking down hill, while hard on the knees, is much faster and easier usually than climbing up. The last bit I took a slightly different route, and encountered more meadows and open space than the hike in. It was sunny and unshaded between the trees, and according to my little thermometer, the temperature was near 100. I was happy to get back to the car, and changed my boots for my sandals, made a quick walk to the river, and rinsed the trail dirt off in the cold water of the Kings River.

Yes, that is my tent! I was standing in my campsite

When I got back to camp it was still early in the day – before 1 p.m. I sat, just taking in the shade and the breeze, enjoying resting my feet, and what happens? I see my bear again. I’m not sure it’s the same guy, but he looked just the same and was about the same size. I had the same initial reaction of thinking, “Oh there’s a bear,” and then the follow up double-take. I grabbed my camera out of the car, and recorded him checking out the campsites. He looked over the campers’ next to me first, sniffing their stuff and moving on. Then he headed to my camp. He strolled over to my tent, as I’m standing in the campsite, and sniffed around. Finding nothing there, he moved on. I was really happy I had followed all the rules and didn’t have anything yummy smelling in the tent.

I watched as he went over to the restrooms and sniffed around there. He actually went into the women’s, and had to back out when he found nothing there of interest. He explored a few more campsites, then ambled off. It was amazing.

I saw some rangers about an hour later and told them. They said they knew of him and he was around a lot. “He’s hungry,” they said, adding that he’s a bit of a problem. I wonder if he sniffs around at night when we’re sleeping. I bet I wonder that if I hear something snuffling near the tent tonight.

The area here not only has four campgrounds, but also has a lodge with a laundry and showers. I treated myself to a long hot shower this afternoon and washed my clothes. I visited with a few families while I was waiting for the laundry. One was from Orange County, about six hours away, and come every year. Another father and his two twenty-something sons had just come in from a 40-mile backcountry backpacking trip. They were ready for a shower. The boys were friendly and talkative, and the wait for my laundry to dry went quickly.

I’m sitting now in the restaurant in the lodge. A thunderstorm rolled through, so I escaped to write the blog and I thought get dinner. But I decided to have a small salad and go back to cook  my burger over the campfire. My priorities have changed on this trip. I’m not looking for ease and comfort so much – I’m weighing everything I do with some other kind of scale. I’d rather cook my own burger than pay someone else to make one for me. This is a new development – I love to go out to eat and do a lot of it. I feel like something has shifted for me. My goal, during the school year, is to live frugally so I can play like this in the summer. And the satisfaction that comes from doing with less and doing it myself is invaluable.

And now I head back to camp to start my fire, cook my dinner, and read a little. Tomorrow, I’m planning about a 10 mile hike here again at King’s Canyon. There’s a glade that sound lovely, and I’m going to give it a try.  I still need to explore Sequoia, but I think I might do that the next day from the car, preparing to head east at some point. The peace and calm I feel here has been lovely. Wouldn’t it be great if we could always feel that, regardless of our surroundings? That, ultimately, is my goal.

P.S. As I was driving back to my campsite after writing this, I came across one of the most fabulous sunsets I’ve seen.

Day 19, August 6: Big Trees

Day 19, August 6: Big Trees

Leaving Yosemite is no quick trip. From Tuolumne Campground where I stayed to the south entrance of the park is 110 miles. That includes a detour up to Glacier Point to see Nevada and Vernall Falls and a good view of Half Dome.

I immediately felt release leaving the campsite. Sharing time with others for four days had taken a toll on me. I couldn’t wait to be free of the need to socialize. I left by 7 a.m., so traffic was light for quite a while. I passed herds of deer grazing in the meadows along the road, but still no bears. Dammit.

When I reached Glacier Point, I walked out to the point with all the other tourists. I’ve been completely ruined by all this hiking – I yearn to see everything from a closer viewpoint; I realize I’ll never be satisfied by the easy look again. There is a trail that runs from Glacier Point to the lodge, passing by the falls. I could ride the shuttle up and hike the 8.5 miles back down, and I hope to do that someday. I thought might even go back in a few days when I’m finished here, but I know now that’s going to happen.

I owe a great big thank you to my hiking buddy Rick from the group hike. He insisted I come down to Sequoia National Park and Kings Canyon National Park. They butt up to one another, so you can’t really visit one without the other. At least I can’t. He also insisted I go all the way back to Cedar Grove at the very back of Kings Canyon. What great advice that was.

The drive from Yosemite to Kings Canyon and Sequoia took me through some disparate landscape. From the lush green of Yosemite, the land quickly began to yellow. The lack of rain was obvious, and the landscape reminded me more of Oklahoma in August than what I imagine for California. Then, suddenly, I began seeing vineyards. It was such a strange sight to see the dead grass surrounding lush green fields of grapes. I stopped at a fresh fruit stand and bought a few plums, and then bought lunch at a lunch wagon of Mexican food parked in a convenience store parking lot. And before long, I began seeing the mountains and big trees I was heading for.

When I pulled into the park, I went to the information desk and asked about camping and hikes. This is a small enough park that there are openings for prime camping spots, and I found one. The campground I chose is the last one in a string of four, nearest the trailhead, which is the end of the road in the park. The ranger I talked to is an avid hiker herself, so she pulled out some topographical maps and pointed out some good hikes. I’m taking the first one tomorrow; it will be about eight miles long in some of the most beautiful land I’ve seen.

I know, I know, I’ve said that before. But driving the 30 plus miles out to the campsite, I pulled over probably 10 times to take pictures and to just take in the beauty of this place. Layer after layer of mountains reach out as far as you can see, and the trees range from small and dry looking to the huge red-colored pines and firs that give this place its name. The granite walls reaching up and the stony Kings River that border the road really tempted my eyes away from the task of driving. And on the long, winding road, I saw very few cars. It’s one of the least populated of the parks I’ve visited.

Grant and I, chillin'

Some other huge tree - not huge enough for a name

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Before heading out to find a campsite, I visited the second oldest tree in the world, The Grant. I don’t think it’s the General Grant, even though that seems to sound better. I’ll double check that later. The tree is just magnificent as you can imagine. Unlike the Redwood forest I visited last summer, the big trees are fenced, so you can’t stand up against them. But they too issue a quiet reverence when walking among them.

I was corrected by Rick when I called these trees redwoods. These are not redwoods, they are sequoias, and although they are the same family, they are not the same tree. I will have a better look tomorrow, because part of the trail I’m taking goes through one of the groves.

I can’t wait to hike under those trees. I’m finding the energy I find among these giants, just like in the redwoods, instills a peace in me I can’t explain. This is the most relaxed I’ve felt for a while, and I don’t think the trees are the only reason. I was starting to feel anxious, trying to figure out where to go and when to go and where to camp and all those things. I can feel the movement towards the end of the trip, and figuring out the route home is a challenge. But about halfway here, everything just seemed to begin to feel right. And when I arrived, I knew the next few days would be here, and I would enjoy this part of the trip immensely. When it’s time to head out, I’ll know that too.

Learning to trust that the right thing will become clear is an important lesson. I know Byron Katie says, “We don’t make decisions; decisions are made.” I embrace that idea in theory, but in practice it’s not as easy. So instead of agonizing over what I’m going to do next, I’ve allowed things to unfold. I know now I won’t be going back to Yosemite – I’ll have to save that hike for another visit. I also won’t be going back to Snohomish (sorry Sally – it’s too far). And I won’t be going across southern Utah, as much as I love that area, it is August and a cooler time will be next May.

Instead I’ll head east, just south of these parks, toward Las Vegas. I will get some desert experience as I drive through Death Valley, but I won’t linger there.  I’ve heard Pahrump, Nevada, is worth a visit, so I’ll swing through there, then head north, choosing scenic routes whenever possible. I see that my journey may head through Great Basin National Park, so I’ll probably check that out. Then I want to see the great Salt Lake and the Wasatch mountains. After hiking in those places for a day or so, it should be time to head back across I-80. If I have time, I’ll swing up through the Grand Tetons, but we’ll have to see.

This route just kind of decided itself as I looked at the map tonight. I have looked at it a number of times before and it seemed a total mystery of how to get home. Now it seems clear. That is, of course, unless it changes. What a lovely way to travel. And maybe, implementing this fluidity into my everyday life as I hope to will be just as satisfying, joyful, surprising, and enriching.