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…….

Expect the Unexpected

No one expects the Spanish Inquisition! – Monty Python

The human brain is wired to crave novelty, thereby assuring the endless appeal of travel.

Sunrise over the desert at Big Bend National Park, South Texas

Quiet as the desert itself, we sat on a low branch in the deep dusk, hoping to see javalinas. We’d driven to a small oasis at the end of a rough road and positioned ourselves near a seep where we’d seen tracks and trails and smelled the musky scent.  Dusk turned to dark. Patiently peering into the brush, we at last heard snuffling, and there in the gloom was a snorting piggy shadow!

The near-sighted javelina must also have a poor sense of smell, though its nose is quite long.  Unwittingly one approached Craig from behind, who remained still as long as he could bear while wondering if the beast would really walk right into him. Brave man! The potential for painful damage from those large tusky canines is real. When the javelina was just 2 feet away, Craig alerted the beast with a slight move.  Brush exploded in all directions as we all three shot straight up in fright. 

An entirely gratifying evening.

The Purple Prickley Pear, common
in the Chihuahuan desert

Armadillo spied at Laguna Atascosa,
National Wildlife Refuge,Texas

However well-prepared we may feel for an experience, surprises come from everywhere,  from the mundane to the profound, the disappointing to delightful. 

This coyote makes a living at Laguna Acostosa also, maybe on armadillos?

Birthplace and home of Elvis
 for 3 years.  They were po.

On our way to Faulkner’s home in Oxford Mississippi, 

we detoured to Elvis’ birthplace in Tupelo, Mississippi.   The Natchez Trace Parkway (National Park Service) beckoned, a historical path with no stops, lights or towns, a 450-mile two-lane blacktop that exists for its own beauty and historical value.  This alone was a worthy discovery.  Bonus: our first sight was twisted and shredded stumps, a blasted landscape explained by a small sign:  “A tornado set down here in April, 2011.”  Most of the surrounding area was untouched.  The Presley home?  Very very tiny.

Tornado casualty April 2011

Spared

Above:  Side-by-side on the 

Natchez Trace Parkway

We made a pilgrimage to the Rothko Chapel in Houston, Texas. The modest, elegant architectural masterpiece is a non-denominational spiritual space and the exclusive domain of eight monumental, minimalist canvases of the artist Mark Rothko.  A World Heritage Site, it attracts spiritual and political world leaders, along with everyday souls, who seek personal and world peace.

Houston is surprisingly progressive, especially in the arts. Having visited the Rothko Chapel, and finding ourselves in a lovely old residential neighborhood known as the museum district, we wandered towards the modern sculpture in a nearby park.  Our stroll led us to one of the most beautiful art museums imaginable, the Menil Collection, the legacy of philanthropists John and Dominique de Menil.  Images of that sublime afternoon spent in those wonderful rooms will remain with us both.  

Unexpected treasure.

We read in the evenings, generally about the history and natural history of where we are (this segment, “the South”), often news to us. Random sampling:

• William Seward was a brilliant man and passionate abolitionist, with a radical fervor that cost him the Presidential nomination in favor of the moderate Abraham Lincoln. 
• (How could we beneficiaries of Seward's Folly have known so little? And schooled in Alaska public schools? Maybe we just weren't paying attention).
• Robert E Lee was Lincoln’s first choice for commander of the northern armies.  Lee did not like slavery, but was loyal to his home state, successionist Virginia, and so declined the offer.
• Slavery was more horrifying than we can fathom: When I Was a Slave, first hand accounts by emancipated slaves, taken down in the1930’s (Dover, $2.50). 
• Mesquite roots go as far as 200 feet down to the water table.
• Desert deer eat prickley pears, fruits and pads (which we witnessed).
• Javalinas climb bushes with their little cloven feet (which we did not witness). They eat prickley pears too.

Following the Texas/Mexico border for hundreds of miles was disturbing, with frequent border patrol checks, dogs, barbed wire and bare earth zones. Big Bend National Park’s annual international fiesta, suspended since 2002, once drew hundreds of locals and visitors from both sides of the Rio Grande.  The border is no longer porous, with painful consequences for families and friends on both sides. Visitors used to enjoy the little village across the river for the cantina and souvenirs. Little beaded roadrunners and money jars now sit alone on rocks near National Park trails. Ominous signs threaten potential buyers with fines, and the usually invisible Mexicans with worse.  Signs remind tourists that crossing the shallow Rio carries the risk of heavy fines and imprisonment. 

A Mexican singer belts out folk songs from across 

the river, hoping Park visitors will add to the tip jar at his

compatriot’s feet on the U.S. side (tiny red spot to the left)

 Birding offers bounteous pleasant surprises.  A tiny sampling of the wonderful  birds we've seen:

Roadrunner, or "paisano" (countryman) locally.  A very large, bold and friendly bird, always on the lookout for bugs
 and snakes to munch.

Green Jay, coastal south Texas

Long-billed Curlew

Crested Caracara near Harlingen, Texas. This huge raptor is the national bird of Mexico.

Golden-fronted Woodpecker, south Texas

Long-billed Thrasher, south Texas

Greentail Towhee, Big Bend and Guadalupe NP

Big Bend National park surpassed expectations.  We spent nearly two weeks in this astounding enormous, layered desert land with profound vistas.  Composed of eroded volcanic domes ranging in elevation from 2800 to 7800 feet, it is irresistible to hikers, birders and desert rats in general. Some Big Bend landscapes below:

Sunset near Castalon, looking towards the Big Bend's  Chisos Mountains 

From the top of the Lost Mine Trail, Chisos Mts, looking towards Mexico

  The Rio Grande at the Big Bend.  Mexico to the right, US to the left

The Mule Ears

From the top of the Lost Mine trail, painted formations

Balanced Rock on the Grapevine, Big Bend

Lounging at an isolated primitive camp. 

 Also more magnificent and awe-inspiring than expected: 

NPS photo by Peter Jones

• Carlsbad Caverns in southern New Mexico, considered the most beautiful cave in the world. Mindbending.
•  Bosque del Apache, NWR in New Mexico, winter home of thousands of snow geese and sandhill cranes. Every day at sunrise they all take to the air in a storm. Astonishing.  One can imagine a time when birds were like that everywhere.

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Sandhill cranes at Bosque del Apache, NM

Kasha Katuwe "Tents" NM

• Kasha Katuwe National Monument, just south of Sante Fe.  Weird formations, hoodoos, a slot canyon: a small treasure happened on by accident and our desire to “check it out.”
• Maybe not awe-inspiring but surely surprising: contenders for the world’s best tamales come from a gas station in Antonito, Colorado, a wide spot on the road.  The tiny “factory” is behind the little convenience store.

We are taking a break from the road, with a couple of weeks to connect with lots of family and friends in Colorado - Yay! what a great place to connect. And it's no surprise that we relish the chance to stretch out!!!

The crystal ball sees us moving west, then north. Til next time, dear reader.

Dancing crane