Upon stepping off the plane at the Cyril E. King Airport in St. Thomas, I soon realized I was stepping into a different world marked by warm salt-scented Caribbean air, a definitive culture, and the bustle of the port of Charlotte Amalie. With luggage collected, we took a ride share taxi from the airport to our hotel, the Windward Passage. The ride itself was the real beginning of the adventure as the driver quickly merged onto Waterfront Drive staying to the left lanes since vehicles drive on the left of on the narrow roads of St. Thomas (remnants of the British Colonial past). Though a short drive, we were served up views of the Charlotte Amalie harbor, palm trees, colorful buildings that climb the hillsides, old colonial buildings, warehouses, narrow streets, and a harrowing closeness to other vehicles.
Our hotel for the one night here was the Windward Passage, an aging relic that has seen better days, situated along the harbor front just a short distance from the downtown area of shops and almost directly across from the Blyden Ferry terminal which we would be departing from on the morrow for St. Croix. The convenience is hard to beat as we could walk the short distance the next day hauling our suitcases to this terminal. No ride share of rental vehicle. So it proved to be adequate lodging and did not devour the whole checking account balance at $225.00 a nightly vs The Westin @ $612.00 or The Ritz-Carlton St. Thomas @ $1011.00. It has definitely seen many better days and would not have been a good choice had I anticipated a luxury Caribbean escape. NOT the case.
Convenience and expediency though is not of concern to my grandson Luke. Luke will devour the reviews for just about any property or activity we might encounter and of course focus mostly on the 0 or 1 star entries. From son Nick’s blog, as he recounted Lukes take: “But DAD! This one says that there were obvious prostitutes in the alley behind the hotel!” To make matters worse, according to Nick, their room was, as Luke quickly informed him, overlooking “Prostitute Alley. ” Of course the hotel was “dodgy” (one of his favorite words.).
Upon my arrival, the hoped for tranquil atmosphere was pre-empted by a bone jarring rhythmic thumping of calypso music spewed from a speaker in the rear alley. Once in my room it was of minimal consequence. I peered through the salt-encrusted sliding glass door at a baseball filed below and could have a slim view of the harbor if I stepped out on the not very useful narrow balcony which was not wide enough for a chair. But we settled comfortably in our room with its outdated decor, well worn furnishings, and worn carpets. Nick, Luke and Miriam were on the alley side and definitely decided to have their room moved mostly because of the music since it could have been quite interesting evening sideshow to observe the goings on in “Prostitute Alley” later.
We opted to go to “The French Quarter” for dinner and ate at the French Quarter Bistro serving a fusion of French, American , Caribbean and Creole dishes. Being in the French Quarter, I, by necessity, had to order French Onion Soup. I especially enjoyed the walk to and from this destination as it was partially along the waterfront area, a mixture of small shops and cafe’s, and an architectural shift to pastel home with wrought iron balconies. Of particular interest to Luke was the McDonald’s we passed in this area which did not look at all like any mainland McDonald’s . Perhaps an imposter????
We all (but Nick) headed back to the hotel. Nick headed out to explore the area which in my younger days would also have been something I would be doing as well but thought better of trying to keep up with my oldest “child” this evening who definitely follows in his mother’s footsteps.
The next morning Tasia and I headed out in search of a market to buy some makings for a healthy breakfast. Much to my dismay the strong stomach which I boasted of in years gone by has been replace by someone else’s sensitive digestion system which now demands a healthy breakfast of oatmeal, banana, milk etc. unless I want to spend the day in search of public bathrooms. So we found a market a couple blocks away and headed back to the motel to eat in our not so elegant room. Afterwards we met up with the Honimills (a nick name for Nick’s family) and we commenced our walking tour of the Charlotte Amalie tourist district.
Of great fascination to me was the vibrant colors of the islands architecture with the red tiled roofs, pastel painted walls, arched doorways and the Danish shutters (wooden louvered window covers painted in bold colors). . Historic Fort Christian, with its very distinctive red brick walls, is no longer needed to guard against pirates and raids by foreigners and thus has been repurposed as a museum. It is designated as a US National Historic Landmark and thus the requisite picture in front of it. Additionally, should I ever return to Charlotte Amalie, I learned that had I wanted a really old room instead of an aging worn out modern room, I might have stayed at the Hotel 1829 with its “real” vintage furnishings and decor.
Though there are many remarkable things to note about Charlotte Amalie, such as the historic Fort Christian, the scenic harbor, the Danish architecture, the most memorable for me is the “Jewelry Jungle. ” The downtown area was no salmagundi of one-of-a-kind specialty stores , where you can find unique creations and local products but a glittering gauntlet of jewelry stores with their diamonds rings , gold chains, gemstones, luxury watches … all nestled within their cases in air conditioned shops while their proprietors stand in the doorway beckoning one to step inside. I really only needed sunscreen or to invest in some cheap trinket emblazoned with St. Thomas on its exterior (the exact same trinket I bought on my last trip with the St. Louis Arch emblazoned on it). The man in the white guayabera shirt promised me the best price on diamonds in the Caribbean and his store had been voted #1 on the Island! I managed to escape his clutches and those of the 40 + jewelry hawkers on Main Street with pocketbook unscathed only to find myself tripping over the chickens and rooster which roam freely through the streets.
Having successfully escaped the bauble hustlers, I thoroughly enjoyed traversing the stone and concrete promenade that hugs the harbor and thus was protected by a four lane heavily trafficked thoroughfare.from the Charlotte Amalie sales force on the other side. There was but one floating city, the Carnival Venezia, with a 4000 passengers capacity . It seemed to me that the cruise goers were totally immersed in their pretend Piazza San Marco experience that there were a scant few on the streets .
We headed back into the cobble streets of the town for a thirst quencher and before long it was time to trudge back to the hotel, retrieve our luggage (from that dodgy hotel) and catch the 3:00 pm ferry to St. Croix. With about an hour before we needed to go to the ferry terminal, we decided to take up residence in the hotel lobby. Whether the multi-purposed porter, concierge, parking lot attendant did not want us loitering in the lobby or perhaps he was grateful for the nice tip he received for storing our luggage, he bade us follow him to across the courtyard to the business center which had baskets of snacks (which we descended upon like vultures) and chilled water. Best of all were the electrical outlets so we could charge up our devices in case we got marooned at sea on the way to St. Croix during that “lengthy” 2 hour ride.
I got on the road late morning from Gunnison CO and selected a longer but designated scenic highway to Arches National Park. With minimal traffic, I at times felt like I was the sole individual who preferred to drive scenic highways. There can be such joy in the journey and this day was joyful.
The route put me on Interstate 70 for about 40 miles and per usual I was grateful to get on a beautiful secondary road, one of those roads on my AAA maps marked with………… designating it as awesome scenery. It would take me through Capitol Reef National Park and Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument. I had visited Capitol Reef in 2016 so opted for a cruise through its magnificence on the way to Bryce via Utah scenic byway 12, aka “Wild Roads.” Escalante was new territory.
Scenic Byway UT-24 (also named Capitol Reef Country Scenic Byway) is more than just a sneak preview to the equally scenic and incredible UT-12. From Hanksville to Torrey on the far side of Capitol Reef National Park, the panoramas and the artists’ palette that painted this area was splendorous. It seemed we had gone mostly from the red “hot” spectrum of colors to a “cold” array of the grey and chocolate hues of our nature world.
The scenery really been to pop around Hanksville, along the Route UT-24 . Factory Butte was grand and was a kaleidoscope of what might be termed as cold colors . Here there is a little something for everybody. Swing Arm City, near Caineville is an OVH recreational area which is intended for off-road vehicles (such 4×4, dune buggies, motocross bikes) but is open to all vehicles. I only drove in a few hundred feet ( there is no road marked) but it felt surreal and a bit like a lunar landscape, with the Factory Butte and the North Caineville Mesa on the horizon.
Heading into Capitol Reef, via the eastern entrance , the light blue, greenish-gray, and off-white tones of the sedimentary rocks was quite remarkable but I also found the solution cavities in these roc k surfaces ( known as honeycomb weathering) notable. These surface holes are caused by the weathering effects of wind, water, and ice but they are only surface.
But it wasn’t long before the vermillion, white, red and pink sandstone formations that are so prominent in most of the southwestern parks began appearing in grand style – one after another, like models on the runway strutting their stuff. Disappointedly , the scenic drive within the park was closed for road work but clearly there was still plenty of scenery..
Heading south from Torrey to Boulder Utah , it was a delight traveling on UT12, as the road ascended through the Dixie National Forest with numerous vista points along the route and to add a bit of fun, it was open range in which cattle are permitted to roamed. .. and that they did. It was 124 miles of scenic exhilaration. .
Once south of Boulder , the diversity of landscape again was evident as I began driving through Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument. This remote section of Utah is a vast and austere landscape with extensive expanses of grey-green photo-hungry rock-forms. I gladly obliged its photo thirst.
If you have followed my travels, you will certainly comprehend why this was “the magic kingdom” experience to satisfy my driving bliss which occurs when traveling twisting , curving roads with switchbacks and hairpin turns. The breathtaking overlooks, sweeping views, and steep inclines pushed my adrenaline into overdrive.
A stop at the Head of the Rocks Overlook was a must. The big sky views over the Grand Staircase Escalante National Monuments showcased this slick rock terrain in its fashionable shades of white, pink, vermillion, tan, chocolate , and grey.
I was in no rush to get to Bryce as I was staying in The Lodge at Bryce Canyon, on a mesa near the canyon rim, and hence no camp set-up or meal prep. I was DONE camping for this trip. Finally I pulled in around 6:30 feeling totally sated by the Capitol Reef and Grand Staircase smorgasbord. After the desk clerk arranged for a ground floor room (since I had been assigned 2nd floor with no elevator), I received all the necessary instructions including the time to go to Sunset Point for sunrise and Sunrise point for sunset. Figure that one out? After checking into my room, I decided on a brief walk along the canyon rim as the sun was beginning its downward slide.
Though I have visited and hiked in Bryce before, my first look was of enchantment and awe. I proceeded to dinner in the Lodge dining room (mediocre) and then a rest up for a fairyland adventure on the ‘morrow.
This rustic lodge like many of the other historic park lodges is constructed of milled timbers, steeply pitched roofs, and extensive stonework. There is the large lobby for socializing, stone fireplaces, and a large dining room. Unlike many NP Hotels, there was internet service but true to form no televisions in the room or cable service…all intended to promote socializing and experiencing the natural world..
If you can imagine rocks as a lyrical poem or dance between weathering and erosion, you might be imagining the process that creates these unique shafts of rock that grow skyward from the bottom of the basin in Bryce to the tip of the hoodoos. Hoodoo means to bewitch! These shafts are so enchanting that they evoked in me a steady stream of wonder and amazement at the deep reds, soft pinks, oranges and creams of these sentinels.
I had already decided I was not going to do a hike down into Bryce Canyon as at the altitude of 8000 feet the thin air was leaving me quite short of breath upon exertion. Brochures kept reiterating you will usually get down in 1/3 the time it takes you to climb up and out. I had hiked down many years ago and it was as magical then as it was today. At some point I would take an easy hike on the rim and focus on the views of “the amphitheater” later but first complete the scenic drive from the hotel out to Rainbow Point before it got too crowded. In retrospect, that was not a worry because there were relatively few cars on this day at any of the view points.
Sunset Point Elevation 8100 feet
Inspiration Point 8100
Bryce Point Elevation 8300 feet
Paria View Elevation 8175 feet
Fairview Point Elevation 8819 Natural Bridge 8627Elevation
I was nearing the end of this scenic trek via motor car and feeling grateful for this halcyon day and the grandeur of this small but very unique section of our country. The final “push” was views from Ponderosa Point( elevation 8904); Rainbow Point (elevation 9115) ; Yovimpa Point; and a short 1.3 mile hike of the Bristlecone Loop at Rainbow Point.
On the drive back to the Lodge, I was also extremely thankful that so many presidents and congress have had the foresight to make conserving land a priority and thus bringing so much joy to like minded Americans who revel in immersing themselves into so much unspoiled wilderness. I hope I can pass on some of this awe and love to my grandchildren (my adult children already embrace the natural world. )
By far the most iconic section of the park, the Bryce Amphitheater ( so called as it is a bowl shaped area formed by the drainage of seasonal rains and melting snow) is home to the greatest concentration of the irregular rock spires called “hoodoos” and I had explored almost all of the viewpoints along the first 3 miles of the main road except for Sunrise Point. I headed towards the mercantile and visitors center before retreating to the Lodge until sunset and then I walked to the last viewpoint I would be visiting : Sunrise Point. This was another spiritual experience as the sun sank below the horizon behind us but lit up the sky before me.
The only glitch in this otherwise perfect adventure was getting lost in finding my way back to the Lodge’s Sunset Hotel where my room was located. I had stayed on the rim until almost dark and had meandered all the way to Sunset Point which I soon realized was a ways beyond my lodging. I somehow did not recognize the path leading to the lodging and was quite disoriented at first. It was quite dark by now. Once I took the time and got my bearings, checked the map (I always take a picture of it so it is stored on my phone, ), turned on my iPhone flashlight, and hopped on the bike path, I knew I would get “home.” iPhone saves the day! I have done remarkably well on this trip for being quite directionally challenged.
The next morning, it was time to head west and make a beeline for my Oregon home….with one more stop to briefly re-visit Great Basin National Park but not stay and camp as I had originally intended. That “beeline” would take three days. Route 12 took me through Red Canyon but even I balked at taking one more striking picture or red rocks. So I continued on through the Escalante Desert with the several low rise mountain ranges breaking up the vast expanse of relatively featureless desert.
Around three pm I reached the town of Baker in Nevada which was the entrance point to Great Basin National Park. It was early enough to take the drive up to Wheeler Peak which transitions from a massive expanse of the desert of sagebrush I just drove through to the treeless rocky peaks of the South Snake Range. As in several other parks, the drive to the final viewpoint of Wheeler Peak was closed for resurfacing.
With both towns and motels few and far between, I stopped in the town of Ely. Ely is known for the Great Basin National Park, the Lehman Caves… but the websites does not want us to forget that “one of the reasons why people travel to Ely…the gaming.” To game or not to game was the question I posed to myself in this town where I had my first opportunity to partake in Nevada’s gambling-free-for-all everywhere. Clearly gambling is not one of my addictions as my heart did not beat wildly at the thought of this opportunity. So I curled up in my motel, slept well, and headed towards Oregon on U.S. Highway 50 the next morning. Traveling westward from the Nevada border to Fallon (about 60 miles from Reno), US 50 passes through only two towns and one small city (Ely) between Fallon and the Utah state line, over 400 miles distant. It is thus known as The Loneliest Road in America. Rarely was the desert landscape was broken up, except by the Bonneville Salt Flats, a recreation area which is used for land speed racing.
The final day took me through the congestion of Reno and some massive road construction projects, and on into California on secondary roads through Susanville and to Mt. Shasta and the final stretch home on I-5.
I travelled 9642 miles solo through 24 states and 5 Canadian Provinces in 63 days: camped 29 nights though I had planned on more but incredibly awful weather change some of that; motels 21 nights ; and stays with family and friends 13 nights. I visited 9 national parks and completed my quest to finish visiting all 61 of the 63 National Parks in the contiguous states and Alaska. Get ready American Samoa and The Virgin Island for I will be there in 2025.
Having now spent three cushy nights in motels, it was time to quit babying myself and prepare to be back in the tent and camping. Actually I am preferring my cozy sleeping bag and cot in the tent to a motel room and their pillow top beds — except when the rainfly leaks and I get rained on in the middle of the night. A stop at a grocery store on the way out was in order to have enough food for the next four nights of camping in national parks. After a resupply in Colorado Springs, I made my way out of town. and by now I was driving in Garden of the God’s territory meaning towering red sandstone formations and landscape that became incrementally more beautiful the further southwest I traveled.
One of the downsides of traveling to the national parks now (or most areas as well) is that it is the “high tourist season” as well as the “high road construction season”. Quite often the two clash! Whether it is the turnpikes, interstates, or the secondary roads, there were not many stretches that I traveled where major road work wasn’t a huge barrier to maximizing quality time outside of my vehicle. I was in Colorado headed to the south rim of Black Canyon on the Gunnison National Park via Route 50 and had to wait almost an hour for a pilot car to lead a line of cars through the area being “refurbished.” This of course was the time when the major road through Gunnison was also getting a shiny thick new layer of black asphalt and this provided a great olfactory experience of the aroma of fresh asphalt which had just been laid on the road about 100 feet from the campground. Most campsites were pretty squeezed but the one I had selected was quite roomy though I opted out of putting my tent on the area designated for a tent pad on the back of the site (more privacy) as it was clay and definitely would be a slick mess to slip and slide around on should it rain.
With many open site, up pulled a “loud family in training” right across from me, meaning there have been worse on this trip but they were practicing to compete for first place. In an amble about the campground I did not hear any other clearly audible conversation. It wasn’t even the ongoing noise that annoyed me (one comes to expect it) but soon the dad strung up several strings of lights running off a portable power pack (no electricity in this campground) . It wasn’t quite as bright as the Vegas Strip , but Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park has been certified as an International Dark Sky Park due to its exceptional skies and lighting practices. This guy was putting so much wattage into the air , that it definitely compromised the quality of star gazing that evening.
Is it all in the name? It’s moniker ” Black Canyon” is not derived from the color of it’s rocks but because the canyon is so narrow and so deep, reaching a depth of 2,722 feet, that sunlight barely reaches parts of the gorge each day (33 minutes), thus giving off an almost-spooky aura. With such an ominous designation, you might guess it is one of the least known and one of the lesser-visited national parks in the country. It ranks 47 out of 63 overall in annual visits. The Great Smokey Mountains has 13.3 million annual visits whereas Gunnison has 357,00
The next morning, I awoke to the patter of rain on tent but, but fortunately it stopped relatively soon so I did not have to figure out Plan B. I was able to quickly get breakfast and get on the road. I arrived at the already crowded visitor’s center and made a plan to drive the 7 mile south rim road and explore most of its different views. But first I wanted to hiked a portion of the Rim Rock Trail before I wore myself out oohing-and-ahhing at the magnificence of this canyon, 7000 ft above sea level.
Hiking the rim from the visitors center to Tomichi Point was but a half mile and though it is described as relatively flat with some stairs and uneven ground, I found it a bit unnerving given the closeness to the “endless” drop of the canyon, so proceeded with great caution. I was stunned by the sheer depth of the canyon walls and narrowness of these canyon walls, the glimpses of the Gunnison River, the canyon ridges and rock spires that jut into Black Canyon, and panoramic vistas of the West Elk Mountains.
Not want to be miss out on any demarcated views , I motored on and began the routine of stoping at each pullout to and hiking each short trail to the viewing platforms. I began to develop a cadre of acquaintances as I kept running into the same gazers at each pullout. starting with Pulpit Rock.
Pulpit Rock .
Cross Fissures Overlook
Rock Point
Chasm View
Painted Wall
Standing 2,250 feet tall from the river to rim, Black Canyon’s Painted Wall is the tallest cliff in Colorado and it has been compared to the Washington Monument standing 555 feet and the Empire State Building at just 1,250 feet. Only Burj Khalifa in Dubai which is the world’s tallest building at 2,717 ft. has beat this massive cliff out.. Jackson Polluck and the many other abstract artist definitely were centuries behind the artistry of the natural forces of nature. My imagination went into high gear when coming upon some of the rocks lining the trail out to the painted wall and I started anthropomorphizing many of rocks and seeing cuddly rock creatures. Can you?
Cedar Point Nature Trail
Sunset View and High Point
At the end of the rim road and with plenty of time for additional adventure, I opted to drive the East Portal Road to Gunnison Dam. The road is paved and two-way but windy and steep, narrow and twisty, and tight curves with a 16 % grade in few places. If you have read previous blogs you know this is my favorite kind of driving. My heart beat rapidly with the sheer excitement of this challenging drive. I managed to avoid burning out my brakes. It ended in the Curecanti National Recreation Area. I had intended to dip my toes in the Gunnison but some how was not motivated at that point to do so.
Since I clearly had not had enough of driving twisty mountain roads, I drove down about 5 miles to route 50 to get ice so my groceries would not spoil. The store definitely had character. .
It had been an excellent day with so much strong and bold scenery. It was time to head back up to settle into camp. Cook. Write. Organize and enjoy the sunset all the while again inhaling the wafting fragrance of hot tar.
Friday, August 23 I woke another drenching rain. The tents raincoat (a poncho I had in the car) which I draped over the netting and under the oozing rainfly had kept the inside of the tent mostly dry and me mostly dry. The rain finally let up and I was able to get breakfast and coffee but figured there was no time for lingering as I wanted to try and break down camp before the rain started again. It wasn’t to be. A constant drizzle began so I was resigned to breaking everything down and wrapping it up, mud and rainwater as well. The tent must have weighed an extra 5 pounds. I was so very wet and bedraggled and I finally got loaded up and was off by 10:15.
I did not have a terribly long drive so I decided to take what I hoped was a more scenic route to Arches National Park in Utah. As I traveled further west the landscape became more desert like and was colored mostly in tans, yellows, and browns etc. My route took me down #143 and before long I was in canyon lands with massive rock formations of all sizes and shapes and colors. It ran along the Colorado River and curve after curve got more colorful, fanciful and gorgeous.
I arrived at Arches Visitors Center Friday 23rd around 4:00pm and learned the campground was 19 miles up the scenic road and would slow going and take about 45 minutes. I was getting somewhat concerned as I saw some rather ominous looking clouds on the horizon and hoped I could beat any impending storm.
Fortunately, it was still sunny upon arrival at the campground and I set about trying to dry out the tent, fly, ground cover, tent rain coat and any other sodden item. Though sunny I could hear the rumbling of thunderstorms much closer. So I shifted into fast forward and basically just dumped everything into the tent that I would want for the evening.
Then, first a strong wind gust and then the rain blasted in so quickly that I ducked into the tent but was wondering if perhaps I should have rode it out in the car. But there I was in this flimsy nylon cloth shelter with its compromised polyurethane coating, feeling scared (I don’t scare easily) and fearful, since it felt so close I was sure that the lightening and its companion thunder were about to both fry me and deafen me. I was certain a tree would come crashing down on my not so safe place and the tent would sail away with me in it to OZ. Of course, if it had not been laden with me and all my stuff, it would have blown away. This massive storm raged on for at least a half hour or more and the thunder was so loud and so close as was the lightening, all of that time. Talk about powerlessness. I could not do anything but just sit there and be frightened.
The stormed moved on over the distance plateau and valley. Mother/Father Nature subsequently pretended it did not just have a out-of-control rage in the last hour but subsequently served up a beautiful sunset as a peace offering.
On Saturday 24th I was up and out early to hopefully get ahead of the crowds hiking the iconic Delicate Arch Trail. It was a halcyon day and I was psyched to commence the most prized hike of the entire trip. Delicate Arch is the largest free-standing arch in the park and so named because it is “the most delicately chiseled arch in the entire area.” But as I made my left turn to head down the 1.25 mile down to the trail head, I was met at the entrance of the access road with a Road Closed sign. A hiker who had walked the road down and was returning said that there was several feet of red dirt/clay across the road from the deluge of the previous evening and it would be 2-3 hours or more before the road would be opened. If I waited until then (it was already 9:00 am) it would be unbearably hot before I finished since I am the tortoise in the tortoise and the hare race.
So my natural choice was to walk 1.25 miles down the road to the trail head, 1/2 gallon of water in hand. I would worry about the 1.25 mile uphill climb after the strenuous hike i.e could hopefully hitchhike back up. Around 30 minutes later I was ready for the 3.2 mile hike on what is rated as a strenuous trail. The beauty of this choice is that there was hardly anyone hiking yet (no crowds like the normal disneyesque size queue hiking here today) so I encountered only a few more adventurous duos passing me by . This was an exposed trail with no shade. As it began it was quite a well defined trail and soon crossed a bridge over Salt Wash. But soon thereafter I encountered steep grades, rock steps, red rock slabs, areas of open slope of steep slick rock with exposure to heights, and for the final hurrah a ledge with steep drop-off.
The final trek down to the Delicate Arch itself was along open relatively steep slickrock and even I would admit it felt quite dangerous especially with a brisk wind. I had gotten this far so I was not about to waiver now . Most of the other hikers were much younger than myself and when I finally made it out to under the arch and turned around, I received a rousing cheer from my hiker fan base and assists.
Hiking out was quite enjoyable, until about a half hour and over half way down, when I could see that the road was open. It would not be long before the large volume of hikers would be scrambling up the trail. Shortly, a couple of young women who I had been interacting with “up top” came upon me and asked if my car was down at the trailhead or up top on the road. Since their car was up there too, they offered to hike up and get their car and come down and pick me up. I heartily agreed and it wasn’t long before they were back. They did the hitchhiking up so I soon retrieved my car to begin my “Arch Walk” (kind of like an art walk) via auto of other areas of the park.
Much like in Gunnison, I traveled the length of the park road to view many of the acclaimed arches and do what walking my legs would still accommodate, after my so very inspiring Delicate Arch hike, starting with Panorama Point and North and South Windows Trails. Can you see or imagine what the rock formation namers saw in their names of the formations?
Panorama Point
Elephant Butte, the Buccaneer, and the Double Arch on Windows Road
I loved the Windows section of Arches. Many consider it to be the heart of Arches. There is a significant concentration of arches and I found it to be quite a beautiful location in the park to hike about. South window, North Window, and Turret Arch, Elephant Butte, Cove of Caves, and Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden are just a few of the -inspiring arch formation I found on the Windows Trail and Road.
South Window, North Window, Turret Arch, Elephant Butte, Cove of Caves, andAdam and Eve in the Garden of Eden
I knew it was about time to drive into Moab Drove to shop for ice, grocery supplies and gas. Having made that decision I was quite pleased that the storms for the day hit when I was enroute through the park.
Upon my return I continued on my mission to visit the vita as many pullouts as possible … how tragic it would be if I missed something truly remarkable.
Park Avenue, Queen Nefertiti, LaSalle Mountains , Three Gossips, Courthouse Towers and Tower of Babel.
Further on down the road and in spite of the ever present threatening weather, I continued my pursuit of additional vistas including the Petrified Dunes, Fiery Furnace, and for some masochistic reason I drove up to the viewpoints for Delicate Arch to get a view of it from the opposite side . I hiked the one mile round trip slightly strenuous steep climb up to the Upper Viewpoint. Most of the other hikers were quite disappointed about the distance to the arch and that it’ is’s separated by a canyon and not accessible to walk to. This day was a 24,000 step and 9 mile day of splendor!
By the time I got back to the campsite it was 7:30. I thought my site had been vandalized but soon realized that it had been vandalizes indeed — by the wind. Fortunately that was the culprit. It was getting dark out and I still needed to prepare dinner so I opted for the cold variety. Once I piled everything into the car for the night (total disarray), I retreated to my tent and to then had clean off most everything in tent from a dusting of red sand. I finally went to sleep with constant gusts of the wind battering the tent. I must have been totally exhausted to manage to have slept through an extremely gusty night.
Peeking out of my wind blown tent, I could see thunder and storm clouds in all directions. So I bounded out of the tent and it was clear that the wind had tried to break camp for me. Hoping to avoid the red mud slicks that would occur and to escape having a tent wet and stained red if it rained (the wind at least had dried everything with its powerful swirls), I had better move quickly . As the rumbles kept happening and getting closer, I rushed about just flinging everything into car which was already a jumble. When done I settled down with my first cup of coffee and observed that I had escaped the storms that were all around. They had headed elsewhere to flood some other unsuspecting area. Before I headed on to Bryce Canyon, I thought I would take a “last stand” and hike Devil’s Garden Trail. I was dragging along and I actually acknowledged that I was “burned out” from yesterday’s mega adventure and I best do an about face and get back on the road.
It is always hard to leave family especially sinceI I have fallen in love with the family dog. Carmel is a black labrador retriever and two years old. She loves people and I was her person the whole 10 days I was there. She slept with me and followed me everywhere. Needless to say I am in Carmel withdrawal. But alas, I also dearly miss my son Nick and daughter-in-law Miriam. But I loaded up my piles of gear into Lady Spitfire. Leaving one’s car parked on a Philadelphia street loaded with STUFF invites a break in so we wisely unloaded everything for the duration of the stay. I was off by 9:30 and ,as luck would have it for the sake of efficiency, I ended up driving out on the Schuylkill Expressway – the road I have always desperately wanted to avoid due to its 24/7, 7 day a week traffic jam. But I didn’t have a meltdown and before too long I was on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, watching the ching-ching chang of the Pikes cash register add up the miles and thus the dollars for me to traverse this massive construction project and truck conveyor belt all the way to Ohio. Of course Ohio has the same idea about commandeering my wallet and letting the turnpike authority help itself to the contents. All of this wallet opening happened so I could get from A-Z in a bit more timely fashion than taking the secondary roads. I grit my teeth and grasp the steering tightly but I am not sure how either one of these response helps me navigate this parade of semi-trucks barreling down the highway at 70 mph all the while squeezing me up close to the unyielding cement barriers on my left and their middle line on hugging right. I try and weave my way from behind to, around to, ahead of these massive vehicles carrying all that “made-in-China” merchandise we just can’t live without. But I finally made it to Cuyahoga State Park and my lodging for the next two nights was at Valley Overlook. I am not sure exactly how one defines glamping but this is the closest I haver come to it since I was on a safari in Africa years ago. This extra large canvas tent was a great way to ease back into “camping” after the hiatus of family and friend visits. It was an almost real bedroom except for the fact the walls were canvas, there was no electricity, water or attached bathroom. The bath/shower unit was up a short steep hill and after trudging up the first time and barely “making it, ” I did something I would never in my wildest dreams imagine me doing. I drove up. An added bonus, I could avoid a massive wasps nest needing to be passed a short distance away.
August 14th was a full day to explore and I had not known how best to approach maximizing my experience of Cuyahoga NP. It is a patchwork of many smaller areas including not only parkland designated to protect the Cuyahoga river but interspersed with villages and farms. I had not done any prior reading about the park and its options. Miriam told me about a train ride through the park so I investigated that and booked a ticket on the Cuyahoga Scenic Railroad for late morning. This two hour train ride out from Peninsula Depot to North Akron and back was pleasant enough and the park volunteer shared a fair amount interesting history but perhaps the route is scenic for Ohio but at no point was I wowed by the surrounds. The scene was of pleasant villages and a countryside of mostly forests, rivers and meadows. The upside was it gave me a good idea of some things I might explore further or NOT. The trip back was a bit “sad.” The train tour guide gave almost no additional commentary. I made my way though our train car and I saw most people focused on their phones, others having loudish conversations drowning out anything the narrator might want to add, some sleeping in their seat, and in general not paying much attention to anything out there. Granted we had “been there” but I often find I can glean a lot more on the “second time round.”
After finding a convenience store to get gas and restock the ice in my cooler, I stopped at the Boston Mill Visitors Center to get more information on trails. It was also an opportunity to get close to the winding Cuyahoga River.
I was eager to get out on a hike with the first hiking choice was the Beaver Marsh Boardwalk . I have been told it is definitely an active area for beaver lodges but either my eyesight is totally myopic or on this day, as often happens, they were doing their interior housekeeping in their hidden lodges. But it did give me a short hike on the Erie Canal Path and a lovely mostly shaded walk in the woods.
Determined to find something more challenging, I decided on hiking at least part of The Ledges Trail. The Ledges Overlook is touted for its vista of the Cuyahoga Valley and a hike of moderate difficulty. A coin toss (not really) landed me hiking the route clockwise which was probably the wrong choice but from the starting point I saw several couples headed that way. The distance to the most notable spot was significant longer than if I had chose the opposite direction of the loop. This is of course in hindsight. I was quite fascinated by the geology of the area and immediately there was an array of sandstone ledges forming sheer cliffs, narrow and deep crevices , moss and lichen covered rocks, rocky and boulder strewn sections in between sections of gravel path.
I am glad I had the experience of hiking the trail because, yet again in this park, I was totally unimpressed by the vista. One would need to be a very very tall person to be able see much of the valley over the tree tops. The biggest rub was when I turned around at the top to find the continuation of the trail, there was a large grassy field and on the opposite side was the parking lot where I left Lady Spitfire. I definitely did not have to work so hard for this very mediocre view but I can take pride in accomplishing a challenging hike and experiencing the geological formations of this area.
By now it was well into the dinner hour so it was back to Valley Overlook (which doesn’t really overlook the valley) for the evening repast and a glamperous night.
August 15th was a travel day, heading to Indiana Dunes National Park. I dreaded getting back on the Ohio Turnpike and its overabundance of big rigs or eighteen wheelers tearing west (or east): flatbeds, tankers, heavy equipment trailers, trailers with removable sides and tarp covers… the list goes on. This is the first trip I have encountered triple trailers as well of course many double trailers. When not long on the road, I got an alert on my phone that due to accidents it was advisable to seek an alternate route rather than the Ohio Turnpike. I had not a clue what that route would be nor had Siri advised me to go a different route so I decided I would just sit in a back-up if that be the case. Fortunately westbound lanes had been mostly cleared and I could proceed on through. However, it was totally gruesome to see the aftermath of three separate deadly crashes leaving four people dead, all involving at least one tractor trailer, a spill of sulphuric acid, and many mangled vehicles. I remained quite anxious and on high alert for the rest of the day. The only upside was that much of the traffic heading west had exited the turnpike so it was mostly truck and traffic free until a couple exits past the exit advisory zone. Prior to today I had been quite grateful that I had encountered only one minor accident in the almost 7000 miles I had traveled. Gradually the traffic built up again to a “frenzy” and it began to rain. I arrived mid-afternoon at the Indiana Dunes Visitors Center, got myself oriented, talked to a ranger about hikes, got my stamp and headed out to Dunescape Campground
What a horrible night. Camping in areas that are scrunched between cities is less than ideal. The South Shore Line, the train that runs from South Bend to Millennium Stadium in Chicago, is but a couple blocks from the campground and quite impolitely announces its arrival at the Beverly Shores Station numerous times a day (about every 20-30 minutes) almost around the clock. It was not music to my ears as I was trying to fall asleep. But that was finally accomplished only to be awakened in the middle of the night by the flashes of lightening and its notorious companion thunder! I thought I might have repaired my tent leaks with seam sealer but guess either I did a terrible job or the leak is actually not in the seams. But at least the drip drip was more of a light spatter instead of a ping! So after the ugly drive and the ugly night I was feeling pretty ugly.
At least the coffee smoothed over some of the rough edges and I decide to get on the road and explore the park. This campground is at the northern end of the park so I settled on a visit to Lake View Beach. It was still early in the day so there actually were available parking spaces and proximate to the historic homes from the Chicago World Fair. With relatively few people on the beach it seemed like the perfect time to view the Century of Progress Homes constructed for the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair to show the future of housing and then brought to the Indiana shoreline afterwards. Were these models an accurate depiction of what housing looked like in the future? An aside. They featured the new amenities of garage door openers and dishwasher. When I think about it a whole lot of homes to this day don’t have those.
With temperatures already in the 70’s, sunny skies, and calm waters, I braced my self for very chilly temps of Lake Michigan but the water was actually quite refreshing and not chilling. I decided on a short walk and it definitely seemed a bit incongruous to be in a National Park and see industrial complexes in both directions with Gary Indiana to the west and power plant in Michigan City to the east..For many years I had a preconceived notion that all National Parks were basically in the hinterlands and not easily accessible to city dwellers. Though most are, there are now a cadre of parks that are much more citified (i.e. Cuyahoga, Gateway Arch, Hot Springs) .
The one hike I wanted to do was the Mount Baldy Dune Trail which was the northern most and tallest dune in the park. So I was determined to test it out. I was a bit tenuous as there were cautions all around about the ease of going down the dune but be aware that the hike back up would be a lung buster on the shifting sands. It was a half mile path to the dune apex and when cresting it, the vista was gorgeous and I naturally made my way down the dune face to the waters edge. A short walk east gave a much closer view of the Michigan City Power Generating Station which many mistake for a nuclear power plant instead of a hyperboloid cooling tower. I looked this up min case you thought I was an expert on electrical towers.) Since I am older and wiser than when my youthful endeavors at climbing dunes and mountains were a “timed event, ” I know I do not have to prove anything to anybody anymore so I inched my way a small step at a time and did not have to pant and gasp for air.
Never satisfied until I am bone weary, next up was The Great Marsh Trail. Seems marsh trails have become a theme of my adventures and this one was a sweaty, bug swatting lovely adventure. This was much more proximate to the marsh water as it was basically a built up dirt path through the wetland area often with marsh water on both sides.
The wildflowers were an absolute delight and it showed yet another facet of marsh vegetation.
After dinner at the campsite, it was a relaxing evening and I settled in bed read. But before too long I could hear a rumbling in the distance and what I had not foreseen was yet another thunderstorm heading over to pound my rainfly with a drenching rain and prove once again my rainfly was incapable of doing the job it was designed to do. . Water was pouring down into the tent from numerous spots – which is only possible because the whole upper portions of the tent is net – the better to stargaze through while cozy in one’s sleeping bag. I had never intended to stargaze and had not given the design much thought I will never again get a tent with a net/mesh top.
August 17th was a driving day…. and once past Chicago, traffic eased up. I was heading to Carlisle Lake Recreation Area. Thankfully driving wasn’t absolute chaos with fewer truckers, weavers, speeders, pokers, and tailgaters. I was not in a particularly positive mood after the thunderstorms and the resultant tent debacle of the previous nights. I had already researched motels near that area anticipating another dismal experience because of all my wet and dirt caked gear. But the weather outlook was good and the site I had selected was an A+ selection and just about perfect (except for the barking dog across the way). It was a large grassy shaded site right on the lake. I spread everything out and it all dried quite readily and before long I had a camp set up on this lovely lakefront spot.
This evening at Carlisle Lake was filled with a light cooling breeze, the gentle lapping of the waves on the rocky shore, fireflies twinkling about, a pastel sunset and the moon waxing gibbous and about 98%full and brilliant. It reminded me of my summers as a child at our lakefront home where lakeside evenings were always magical. The only thing missing here was the whistle of a train across the lake. in Topinabee. But since I had on over-abundance of those train whistle at the dunes, the paucity was a blessing. Now that I am veering farther south, the evenings are not cooling off as much as they had been the rest of this trip so it was time to haul out lighter weight sleepwear and not sliding down into the depths of my sleeping bag.
On August 18th I awoke to the shrill barks of the dog across the way – who after putting out the rallying cry, was responded to by several of the fellow canines in the area. I think everyone camping here has a dog as evidence by the chorus of not so sonorous barks. Though wanting to be annoyed, it wasn’t worth the effort and I wanted to be packed up and on the roas by 9:30am( which I accomplished.) I was heading into The Gateway Arch National Park in St. Louis. I discovered that night that the St. Louis Cardinals had an afternoon home game and I was headed to the Gateway Arch which is a very very close neighbor to Busch Stadium. I wanted to get into the city before it got crazy with fans all arriving for the ballgame. I was so grateful I pre-paid for Arch parking the evening before. It was $10:00 . When I got to garage the parking fee was $40.00 for the game.
The Arch is quite an impressive architectural structure. The complex is quite extensive and though I had not intended to take the tram up into the arch, I would not have been able to as it was sold out. I had done the tram many years ago and I disliked it tremendously because of both the claustrophobic cars and the very noticeable sway of the arch I felt at the top.
It was a lovely day and being that this park is right along the river it was quite the enjoyable time meandering along it and taking a gazillion photos of the arch from every angle. My goal was to get on the road and head west once the traffic heading into the area for the Cardinals game cleared. Since the parking garage was right next to the stadium it was kind of fun milling about that area amidst the fans.
When I surmised the worst of the traffic mess was over, I headed out of the garage (which was no easy feat since most exits were blocked off. After taking out a couple of trafic cones trying to wind my way out, I finally came upon the one place one could exit and get on a road out of town. The end point was Columbia MO and since I always feel frazzled by the challenge of executing the complexity of city expressways, I was happy that I had pre-planned a night at a hotel in Columbia MO. Since I had been dining on camp rations, I saw a T. G. Friday’s right next door and though I have not eaten at one in a long time (my recollection was of a menu featuring mostly high fat, high cholesterol, breaded, and fried heart attack inducing foods. I did not want to get back in the car again. So Friday’s it was.
For The next couple of days I was headed into the relatively flatland and featureless areas of the mid-west. Western Missouri and Eastern Kansas had a slight bit of definition to them i.e some mildly rolling hills and trees mixed in with the cornfields. Western section of Kansas did not. It was a bit saddening to be traveling through this area which clearly has suffered from drought and observing mile upon mile of corn fields clearly devastated by it. Stalks were all browned and yellowed except for a very few fields which had the capacity to be irrigated. The one highlight of my traverse through Kanas was a stop at Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve.
Tallgrass Prairie is one of the very few areas that remains today ( less than 4% of the 70 millions of acres) remains intact, mostly in this area, the Kansas Flint Hills. According to the NP brochure “ the preserve protects a nationally significant remnant of the once vast tallgrass prairie ecosystem. Here the tallgrass makes its last stand.” But most noteworthy and exciting for me was to discover there is a resident bison herd and I was again fortunate to be able to observe it off in a distant field. Now these enormously large bovines with their unpredictable temperament were proximate to an identified hiking trail in the preserve and I discovered I could access that trail via an unlocked gate. I wandered in a short distance and I was quite tempted to get a bit closer to these massive elegant beasts but the rational side of my brain won out and I settled on a few snapshots and was on my way.
I had been planning to camp in Marion KS west of the Topeka Kansas area but was not one iota motivated to roughing it. Instead of the campground, I just continued heading westerly and stayed at Comfort Suites in Salina KS. The next night I had a motel reservation in western Kansas but decided to push farther west with the goal being Colorado Springs on August 20th. In trying to think about what might have been remarkable about today’s drive, terrain wise it was mostly flat until just sort of Colorado Springs. Lots of dead corn, lots of silos, and lots of windmills. I know there is a lot of controversy around windmills dotting the landsscape, but there is something I find calming and peaceful about watching them, the blades slowly turning agaist the backdrop of a vast sky. The time sped on along with my car speeding on and soon I was in the eastern part of Colorado Springs negotiating rush hour traffic getting lost, never being in the correct lane, getting thoroughly turned around, missing exits, and spending about one-half-hour + finding my motel which was originally less than 1 mile away. Once there and checked in was not going anywhere.
Uniquely Theo 