Saturday, December 1, 2012

Year Two, Travels in the West


After a summer in Alaska we took to the road again, this time further exploring the West.

An outdated Milepost warned the Sea-to-Sky Highway in British Columbia was fearful (Highway 99 from Cache Creek to Vancouver, 254 miles). We took it anyway, and discovered it had been vastly improved for the Olympics. The spectacular route through the coast mountains did inspire a couple of limericks:

            A dyslexic in an RV named IRV
            Took to the highway with verve
            Til she took left for right
            And they sailed out of sight
            From a scenic high-altitude curve.

            Bold RVer Craig had the nerve
            To drive scenic routes and observe
            Views distractingly fine
            Til he crossed a white line
            And drove into the ditch with a swerve.


 No catastrophes really happened, just a few quick corrections forced by scenery ogling.

We made it to Vancouver, BC, where we met our daughters and their families for a baby fest at Camille's home. There were Camille and Alex' 14-month old twins Chloe and Claire, 3 year old Gabriel, and Michael and Willow's 6-month old Rowan, in from their home in Stirling, Scotland.  
Michael, Craig, Willow & Rowan, Camille
The reunion with babies and toddler was  sweet fun. 

Craig, Claire and Gabe
Rowan
Gabe, Chloe, Gail, Camille, Claire 

We hated to say good-bye.

Superlative (Trees and Other Things):

Novelty-loving humans find superlatives wildly entertaining: deepest, highest, oldest, one-of-a-kind. So it’s serious good fun and fairly easy to seek out and be mind-blown by the rarest trees in the world. There exist some really gigantic trees and really old trees.

Gail with Sequoia in Sequoia National Park
(Tiny) Craig with Sequoia





 Small is the norm for trees of the far north spruce-birch forest, named Taiga, Russian for sticks. A lifetime among those rather meager trees can leave one swooning before merely average robust trees of the temperate zone. 




Standing before a giant sequoia (sequoiadendron giganteum), the world’s most massive tree, is confounding.  One as easily comprehends their measure as that of a blue whale or the solar system.


















We also have found in our travels unheralded, unremarked trees of staggering stature and great dignity. The marvelous sugar pines in Yosemite, home of sequoias, receive barely a mention, but this tallest pine in North America (250 feet – think 25 stories) with its nearly two-foot cones is a giant. The Sierra’s basic ponderosa is enormous, as are the red and white fir, which can flutter the heart and weaken the knees.

To the left:  Sugar Pine in Sequoia National Park 









 
Ponderosa in Yosemite National Park



Craig and Tharp Cabin in hollow tree

The long fallen sequoia 
to the right appears, 
at first glance, to be a bedrock
outcrop, beautiful
black stone.

Manzanita with red bark, Hetch Hetchy


The oldest tree, a bristlecone pine named Methusela (age 4,700+ years), sits  atop a ridge at 10,000 feet in the White Mountains of eastern California. A deep, narrow valley separates the grove from the eastern Sierra Nevada.  Bristlecones are arguably the most picturesque of trees. Dry, high, windy, conditions and miserable soils increase their longevity, and those enduring the most hardship are the oldest and most lovely.

Bristlecone Skeleton

Bristlecone spiral branches


A common story regarding trees:  Less than 1% of the old growth eastern white pines remain today.  There may have been trees to 8 feet in diameter and over 250 feet tall but most today are just 100 feet tall.  The story repeats itself across the country, so whether from taiga or LA, one can be dazzled by any of the old-growth trees, not just the record-breakers.  

Striking convergence of superlatives:  the highest mountain in the lower 48 (Mt Whitney) is merely 100 miles from the lowest point in North America, (Death Valley), even fewer miles from the worlds’ largest tree (sequoia) and a scant few from the worlds’ the oldest tree.







Names of great trees:

We Lilliputians name the big trees after military and political figures: General Sherman (the most massive tree in the world), General Grant, Robert E. Lee, Roosevelt, John Adams, General Pershing, and so on. The spared and fenced titans are named after the victor’s heroes. 

What would a sequoia name itself? 

What would it name us?


Yosemite Vistas:
Half Dome from Glacier Point

Lembert Dome from  Tuolumne Meadows

Cathedral Peaks from Tuolumne Meadows







We left California for a sweet visit to friends Scott and Ann Hinckley in Zion (the most picturesque setting for a home?)  and then proceeded to the largest, deepest, widest canyon in the world, no contest, the Grand Canyon.

 The North Rim is low-keyed compared to the South Rim, and especially so because we visited during low, very low, season, and there were perhaps 6 visitors there.  During mid- November the road in can be closed at any time. 
Angel's Window near Cape Royal,  North Rim

One of the most beautiful vistas in the world is from Imperial Point, at 8,800 feet, the highest point in the park.  One gazes east to the earth’s curve, across the Canyon  into Navajo land, the Painted Desert, the Vermillion Cliffs and Marble Canyon. 


Grand Canyon from the North Rim

Marble Canyon near Lee's Ferry on the Colorado River above the Grand Canyon



Pros and Cons of traveling in the low season:

Pro:      Pick of the campsites                        Con:              No campgrounds open
             No traffic                                                               No or limited services
             No crowds                                                             Roads closed for winter
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
Moro Rock parking, Sequoia NP


North Rim, Grand Canyon NP

BLM Condor Site
 Lots of parking



A con:  We entered a rare, open no-services National Forest Service campground to get temporarily stuck in a mire of mud and snow (at dusk, of course) with not a soul around. Beware “open” signs when all other signs incuding your instincts suggest do not enter.

On a lonely washboard BLM road (IRV's rattling is dreadful) we sought  California Condors near their breeding and release site at the Vermillion Cliffs, Arizona.  
We saw them!!! 

Craig with his telescope at Condor Site 


We could see their white tags, their fluffy boa neckpieces and their rainbow heads. In the photo below, for scale, the tiny dots are large ravens. This is a "for the record" photo.  






Last limerick:

Rare bird-viewing was one of their themes
As Craig and Gail traveled their dreams.
Over washboard they'd wander
To see the Great Condor,
As IRV's cupboards spilled toothpaste and beans.

Surprises:  One evening an enormous, fat raccoon got halfway into IRV  before Craig firmly discouraged it.  Luckily I was out for a walk with Vesta, the still-traveling cat. She would have hated the company.





Dinosaur Tracks just out of Tuba City, Arizona, on the Navajo Reservation range from small to fearsomely gigantic.  Navajo guides take visitors into the site where one may walk among many prints, eggs and fossil poop, as well as bones. A worthy stop!

On California’s Inyo National Forest website there is much helpful information about backcountry travel, such as What to do if you encounter a marijuana plantation.  I know you are dying to know.  First, how to recognize one:  “If you see people standing along roads without vehicles present” or  “a well-used trail where there should be none.”  What to do? What to do?  “Back out immediately.  Leave and make as little noise as possible, but "I.D. the location” preferably with a GPS (and report it, of course).

An argument, I realized, for legalizing marijuana is that illegal plantations wreak havoc on sensitive ecosystems.  Legal plantations could be regulated for environmental impact.

Favorite name:  “Inconsolable Range” in the eastern Sierra Nevadas.

Favorite road signs:  On the steep road going deep into Kings Canyon NP, third deepest Canyon in North America,  Do not drink this water.  For radiator use only.

In Yosemite, a world made of granite:  Watch for Rocks. But of course.



We enjoyed five days of Thanksgiving feasting and visiting with friends and family in a gorgeous 18th century restored hacienda outside of Abiquiu, New Mexico. This area was the home and inspiration of Georgia O’Keefe and it was a deep pleasure to view and hike in the country of her paintings.




Views of and from
the 18th century
renovated hacienda (above and right)



Craig and Gail's sister Carol
in a slot near Abiquiu, N.M


 We are back in southern Colorado’s marvelous San Luis Valley with Gail’s sister Carol & brother-in-law David.  As we cannot seem to get enough sunshine (is this the fate of life-long Alaskans?) we will head next for southern Arizona for a spell. 'Til the next time, dear readers........fare well.

Sunset from the North Rim, Grand Canyon









Saturday, April 14, 2012

Abundance in Diversity

The landscapes we know and return to become places of solace.  We are drawn to them because of the stories they tell, because of the memories they hold, or simply because of the sheer beauty that calls us back again and again.  – Terry Tempest Williams



We've come full circle. IRV is out to pasture in Kenai until next fall, having carried us 21,398 miles in 6 months. Not bad for an old rig. Took some front end work, brake work, one new windshield (now pitted due to a Colorado sandstorm), and a lot of gas and oil.  IRV is in better shape than when we started.   As for us, well, we know more.

Some things we have learned about the 48 states:

  • The country is huge! HUGE!!  Especially when observed from narrow twisty roads.
  • The diversity is astounding.  To appreciate it, avoid the interstates, a single monotonous landscape.
  • History comes to life when its locations are experienced. Our history is intriguing and complex. Big help:  National Park system, some state parks, and, of course, Interpretive Signs! 
  • All grocery stores are not created equal. Some regions suffer from grocery store deficit. Were they all Wegman's.

Compare and contrast:
Zabriski Point,  Death Valley, California
Douglas Fir,  Lewis & Clark National Park, Washington
Monument Valley, Navajo Nation Park, Utah 


Gail enjoying sister Carol's mustang Lucky
in Alamosa, Colorado
Scott, Ann and Gail











After the deep pleasure of visiting family and friends in Colorado, we moved further into the Great American Southwest to Zion, where our friends the Hinckleys live when not in Alaska (luckies).  


As with any of the fabulous extremes of the Southwest, Zion cannot be described. 




Slickrock is wonderful to clamber on if it's not too steep.  The bighorn is not at all  concerned with steepness. When it comes to steepness, the Hinckley men are much like the bighorn sheep. 
Bighorn at Zion






Leaving Zion, we zoomed by Las Vegas (no eye contact) to get to Death Valley, which stunned us with its peculiar and surprising diversity.  The driest (av. 2” rain), the lowest (minus 282 feet), the most barren, surrounded by 11,000 foot wrinkled mountains with dunes, painted hills, slot canons, dry salt seas, alluvial fans, lava flows, volcanic craters, and ancient mines.  Unexpectedly wildly captivating.  Bonus:  lovely winter temperatures.

Death Valley's Artist's Palette.  Caused by oxidization of  minerals found in some lava flows. 

Craig on infinite, unforgiving salt pan, the archetypical Death Valley.







A Death Valley volcano erupted  6000 years ago, leaving numerous small craters alongside a single large one.
Crater rim viewed from opposite  rim. 
We hold oddly tender feelings towards Death Valley and long to return.
                                              
                                                                      *     *     *     *

"Water, water, everywhere........

In an apparent distortion of space/time, we were soon on California's Highway 1, thrilled by driving rain, big trees, fog, sea stacks and monster surf far below. We pondered how long it would have taken the '49ers to escape Death Valley and make it to the coast. A long while.  Though we know the auto fools us about distance, our heads still spun from the extremes.

Northwest California coast




Gail and brother Richard, and Craig on a trek above Goat Rock Beach near the mouth of the Russian River, Sonoma County.






Elephant seals doing the wild thing on St. Valentine's Day, their traditional day for a big romp on the beach.  They stay at sea unless they are molting, mating or birthing.  The size of the male skulls dwarfs those of polar bears, brown bears, and Steller sea lions.   We're talking enormous.  


Gail's brother Richard lives north of San Francisco (that jewel and delight); the cousins Harvey clan are scattered around Northern California; and friends Monroe and K Robinson are near Mendocino when not at Twin Lakes in Alaska.  We loved the good company, the culture, and the chance to stretch out.


The wildness and sparse population of the Northwest Coast is surprising and reassuring. Only narrow, winding roads connect California’s central valley with the north coast, and ocean access has been preserved for everyone, not just the privileged, as is often lamentable in the east.

Nothing could be more different from Death Valley than the old growth rain forest of Washington's Olympic Peninsula (Olympic National Park). Two hundred inches of rain may fall each year. We camped where we were transfixed by huge storm rollers coming in from far, and considered that a rogue wave could sweep us away in the night.  


Colossal trees (Douglas Fir, Red Cedar, Sitka Spruce and Western Hemlock) tower above a chaos of nurse logs, snags, sprouts and moss.
Ancient red cedar.  Note tiny Gail at bottom.
Ancient red cedar.


We are glad for trails (and interpretive signs). Everything drips with rain and moss. 

We began to weep, as this place called up tenderness and inexpressible emotion.  The wettest and the driest places each call us to return.  

The juxtaposition of bald clear-cuts with patches of  uni-forest is disturbing.  Though we understand the need for timber and jobs, it is disheartening to see vast mountains of pulp being loaded for Asian ports. Thousands of bombed out un-reclaimed acres are the most unnerving.  We feel grateful for existing preservation.

The big circle closed with our return to Vancouver BC, home of daughter Camille, Alex, toddler Gabe and twins Chloe and Claire.  The little ones are bigger!  We were so happy to catch up and have playtime with our grandchildren.

Gabriel

Chloe, Claire


Boarding the Matanuska in Bellingham, Washington


We were too soon in Bellingham but excited to catch the ferry to Haines,  our first full inside passage trip.  

Of note:  the maneuvering of the large vessel through the miles-long Wrangell Narrows is a dramatic ferry slalom with rocky reefs on either side. 
 As we headed north, the mountains reached ever higher above the endless dark coast and rare, lovely small ports. It met expectations and more.




Dodging buoys in the Wrangell Narrows




Lynn Canal near Haines, Alaska


The Haines Highway was drifting seriously
 and closed for plowing the day after we traversed it.



Definitely back in Alaska, land of record snowfall, most of the worlds’ non-polar glaciers, staggering scale, etc. etc. etc. After our grand adventure, we are lucky to be returning to such a place, or we could feel let down.


IRV resting in driveway. Snow berm is from road clearing along Kenai Spur highway.

Oh yes, some interesting road signs:

·     Runaway Vehicles Only  (Hope we won’t be needing that!)
·     Do Not Enter When Flooded  (Ohkaaaaaay!)
·     Heavy Roadside Activity (Heavy, man. What kind of activity was that?)

Our favorite sign was on Route 20 crossing the California Coast Range. It had changed from two steep and winding, but normal, paved lanes with shoulders, to one lane without shoulders, blind hairpin curves, sheer drop-offs, and broken asphalt.  With tires barely fitting on the road we read:  “Road Narrows.”

Vesta the Cat enjoys the wide spaces of our gracious friends’ homes, though we think she favors the expanse of a warm southwest desert. The 4-foot snow berms in Anchorage are tough for a little cat to negotiate. Patience, kitty, we will soon be at the cabin at Lake Clark.  Just one tiny detour first, to Scotland, to welcome Willow and Michael’s first baby, due in mid-April.

We haven’t found our winter home yet. In the fall, we see ourselves heading back to the Southwest for awhile. After that, dear reader, the crystal ball grows dim…….