Tag Archives: Sky

Travel Guide

Travel Guide: Utah National Parks (and a Moment in Colorado)

7 Comments

In the end, we drove 2,716 miles (approximately 4,443 kilometres) in two weeks. While our trip earned negative points in the Environmental Friendliness category, we earned positive points in Support for Local Communities, often eating in the one diner or Mexican restaurant in the only town on endlessly straight roads that knifed through the desert.

The journey started in Denver, Colorado, where we visited old friends of mine. On our way out of town, they gave us directions to Rocky Mountain Arsenal Wildlife Refuge where, from the safety of our vehicle, we saw prairie dogs . . .

. . . and bison, first alone and then with the herd.

Knowing only of Colorado’s mountains, I was not expecting the endless prairie that was Denver, nor how big the sky felt when the land went on forever, with no groves of trees obstructing the view. The landscape changed as we drove, lush greenery and mountainous by the time we reached Vail, and then the rocks and red dirt, and tunnels that opened into canyons, that opened into more rock, until there was nothing. Just mountains and desert, which is to say everything.

We spent our first real night on the road in Silt, Colorado and then took our time getting to Moab, Utah. Our motto on the road became, “Always take the scenic route”, regardless of the amount of time added to the journey. After all, this trip was about the journey. And we were always, always glad for our choice.

Canyonlands National Park was our first real experience in the desert and it taught us very quickly that summer desert heat is to be respected and adhered to. And we recognized that while we were prepared for the rock, we could never be prepared for how hard it would be to not touch the rock.

My partner and I are climbers and we marvelled at the deep red, the layers of colours, the formations created by sand and wind and endless time.

The caverns, canyons, and shapes were otherworldly, and the fact that trees and plants grew there was a testament to the incomprehensible magic of nature.

We couldn’t help it, and we wanted to be part of that rock. We didn’t build the cairn, but we appreciated whoever did.

The following morning we had the earliest timed entry slot available for Arches National Park, allowing us to watch the sun move across an extraordinary landscape. My journal, sitting beside me as usual as I write this post, says, “Today is difficult to describe because it was overwhelming. Overwhelmingly beautiful, in the most diverse landscape I’ve ever seen.”

We hiked Devil’s Garden and found ourselves on what could have been another planet. We were in awe of the rock . . .

. . . of the landscape (Landscape Arch is indeed appropriately named). . .

. . . and of the greenery despite the harsh desert climate.

At my partner’s encouragement, we scrambled up the path under punishing sun to reach the famous Delicate Arch, which was every bit worth the discomfort.

It was on the way there that we saw our first petroglyphs, signs that real people had lived here, beginning thousands upon thousands of years ago.

Later in the day, again choosing the scenic route, we saw more of the same in Capitol Reef National Park.

The landscape had changed along the way, with stark rock formations gradually giving way to mesas and plateaus. Unlike Arches, which was so bright and so hot it was difficult to imagine the people who had sheltered in the occasional spots of shade, Capitol Reef was an oasis with fruit orchards, a welcome breeze, and rolling hills.

Later on, we drove through Dixie National Forest, in which we would find ourselves multiple times throughout the trip. From lookouts there, we could see Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, also part of our route, in the distance.

We spent the night in Cannonville, Utah, sleeping under the brightest, clearest stars that I’ve seen in North America. As is my habit, I first found the Big Dipper, and Polaris followed from there. The Milky Way winked hello and we lay on our backs pointing out constellations that we recognized and looking for others we thought we knew. It was a warm night that grew shockingly cool, and I was grateful for the heavy blanket in our cozy tent.

We left early the following morning to reach Bryce Canyon as the sun made its way across the rock formations that belonged, again, somewhere other than Earth.

And then we made our way down into the canyon, deliciously cool, and stared up at a storybook sky as we walked along pillars of red rock and shockingly green trees. The heat got to us again, but our attention was on the rocks made of chalky sand, with formations that could have been stalagmites had they been located elsewhere. And they towered over us.

Just based on what we saw in Bryce Canyon at the height of summer, I can almost imagine what it might be like to see a desert in bloom.

We spent the night in Springdale, Utah, at the foothills of Zion National Park. Zion is beloved among climbers, and it was no surprise as to why. This is real big wall climbing, and it is impressive in scope.

That being said, we found Zion underwhelming at first. Perhaps this is because of its similarity (cliffs and greenery) to what we’re familiar with from home, or perhaps because it came after the wonders of Canyonlands, Arches, and Bryce. We didn’t follow the crowds into the river to explore the famed Narrows, and we weren’t there at the right time of year to hike Angel’s Landing. But by choosing the scenic route on our drive out, we saw a part of Zion that raised its esteem in our eyes, and left us, as usual, glad for our choice.

Of the five states that comprised our road trip, Utah was by far the most impressive. The landscape was diverse in a way that I’ve never seen before, and each tiny settlement or small town was set in a beauty that we were privileged to merely pass through. I’ve previously been in Utah to ski, but this was the first time I’d actually seen it, the first time I’d eaten pie with ice cream at the only diner in the only town on the only road in the middle of wherever we were. We kept early hours and correspondingly early bedtimes. We were out exploring when it was comparatively cool enough and back in the air-conditioning of our car by early afternoon. Dusk brought not a respite from the heat, but a respite from burning the backs of our legs upon getting back inside the car after stopping at yet another lookout. (The newspapers provided by many national parks were put to great use.)

After two nights in Colorado and three in Utah, we had found a rhythm on the road, one helped along by a good supply of snacks, a discerning ear for religious radio, and a classic license plate game. With camera, hat, and waterbottle within reach and sunglasses always perched on the nose, we headed towards our next state – Arizona. Stay tuned!

Travel Guide

Travel Guide: Split and Hvar

2 Comments

After two nights in Zagreb and an afternoon in Plitvice Lakes National Park, my parents and I drove through beautiful mountains and the sort of scrubbed bush that seems to come right out of rock. The best word to describe the sky, I wrote in my journal later, was the German word diesig, which can mean both misty and hazy, but has none of the negative connotation of haze. The sun peeked through but to say it was sunny would be misleading. It was a beautiful drive and I was glad to be behind the wheel.

We arrived in Split in the dark and the air tasted like the sea.

The following morning we took a walking tour that gave us a brief introduction to Split’s old town and taught us a great deal about Split’s history from the time of the Roman Empire. This is where I began to understand the role of the Balkans as a crossroads through Europe. It seemed to me that Croatia has been historically disregarded as the playground of empires, even as empires rely on its strategic location for conquest and safe passage. This was clearly seen in Split, a city that has traded hands time and again throughout the course of history.

I would have thought that the enormity of Diocletian’s palace and the ancient Cardo, the trade corridor still running under Split’s streets, make this city, a UNESCO World Heritage site, one of deep interest for archaeologists and historians. However, as the guide explained, UNESCO is interested in new finds. Split and its heritage might be beautiful, but are not new finds.

After a walk to get our bearings, we spent the afternoon following the path up Marjan Hill to reach the highest point in Split and look down on the city from below. Interestingly enough, we found an old Jewish cemetery on the way.

I found that I could not get enough of the landscape. The white stone gave me shivers when I touched it; there were plants, trees, and cacti that I had never seen before; water was visible from everywhere above; mountains visible from every angle. The polished stone of the streets and buildings shone in sunlight and moonlight, and caper bushes were growing on the palace walls. The stories the stone could tell.

And of course, no ancient city of great trading status would be complete without a port.

For our last day in Dalmatia, we took a ferry an hour away to the island of Hvar. We walked up to the fortress overlooking the Adriatic and the town below and then along the harbour in the opposite direction, following paths that twisted and turned around trees and white stone.

From what we saw in our short time there, we were in a very peaceful place. Pristine and windy, twisting streets leading to gardens and alleys, paths winding through parks. It was just a really lovely atmosphere, one that I imagine gets very quiet when the tourists are gone for the winter (though that’s not to say the locals mind the break).

Rather than walking back along Split’s waterfront when we returned, we walked in the opposite direction towards the beaches, and I put my feet into the Adriatic for the first time. I love new bodies of water and this one was warmer than expected. We sat and watched the sky until the sun set.

And then from there we would head further south along the coastal road to our last destination – Dubrovnik.

New York

New York Mountains

Leave a comment

My family recently spent a week at a pond in an area of the Adirondack Mountains that doesn’t get cell phone service. We spent our days reading in the sunshine, paddling canoes and kayaks, and basking in the quiet and solitude.

We hiked through forests . . .

. . . climbed mountains . . .

. . . and waited by the fire for stars to appear.

The Adirondack Mountains are beautiful and also, in my biased opinion, a very special part of the state. The region includes an area called the High Peaks, forty-six mountains ranging from 3,820 feet (1,164 meters) to 5,344 feet (1,628 meters). Technically a High Peak is classified as anything over 4,000 feet (1,219 meters) but original list of 46 stems from the early twentieth century when surveys were less precise. Three of us were keen to climb Gothics, the tenth highest peak at 4,736 feet (1,443 meters), which we planned to reach via Pyramid Peak, a mountain tall enough to fit High Peaks criteria but unfortunately located too close to Gothics to be considered its own mountain.

The hike is approximately twelve miles (19 kilometers) of adventure through forest, across rivers and waterfalls, and over boulders. Having prepared coffee the night before, we left before dawn and only returned close to dark. I’m very comfortable rock climbing but free climbing on slabs was a new experience.

We had lunch on Pyramid Peak overlooking Gothics, marvelling at the trees and plants that are features of alpine terrain.

The hike is divided into three four-mile sections with the middle section containing the difficult climbing. It took us 11 hours and 38 minutes to complete, longer than the nine hours we’d read about and planned on. As we finished the last stretch of trail, we realized that many people likely walked the first and third sections along the road that we had decided to avoid. This was probably why the people we encountered in the woods commented that we were taking the scenic route to Gothics. It certainly was and I highly recommend it, but we were glad we started early and that we’d packed more food than we thought we needed.

After an hour in the car, we were glad to be back at the pond.

What I love about the Adirondacks is how far away it seems from the rest of the world. The air tastes cleaner, the sky is bigger and stars brighter, and the ecosystems around water and forest conjure a tranquility that seeps into my bones. There’s nothing to do but be out there, no time to keep, no opportunity for mindless distraction. Instead, the mind switches off while watching the fish jump early in the morning, and the senses sharpen as the arms, warmed by the sun, dip the kayak paddle into the water. The Adirondacks are a special place for me because they find all of me, scattered as I sometimes am, and bring me right there. Right there where there’s no place else to be.