Adrift in Space

Phoo

Observer
Stardate: 2017.8.9
Local Coordinates: 46.870114, -113.985723
Ship's Log:
- Data Shifting and Blasting North -
In the pointy headed world of math/science/engineering, we often use the term “normalizing” to refer to the process of shifting a datum or data either to unity or some commonly recognized numerical range. Colloquially, it's more like “gettin' used ta sumpn' differnt”. Extended travel through beautiful places has a notable normalizing effect on one's perception of reality. As my time adrift marches onward, I am less inclined to snap photos of outrageous sunsets, inky-black night skies illuminated only by the blaze of distant stars spilled across yawning infinitum, one more impossibly jagged mountain range, one more bottomless canyon. That is my New Normal. Y2 = Y1 * Z where Z = 1 / [AWESOME]. Then, I remember that I've long since passed apogee, and there are just precious months left before touching down in reality. The old normal. Days illuminated by LCD computer screens and nights blotted by sodium vapor street lamps. Angry drivers in caffeine withdrawal rage-stupor. Deadlines and responsibility. The daily grind. It's coming for me, and I think about it now and again. Creeping into the corners of my consciousness. Mold in the peripheries of a dark, musty basement.

Precious months. That's still a fair chunk of time to get some stuff done.
So for now,
Landing gear up, flaps up, nose to the sky and full afterburner.
Real Life can eat my shockwave.
For now.

Right. So, where was I?
Ah, yes. Being overtly melodramatic. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Since I finally escaped the gravitational pull of Oregon, life has been a blur of constant motion, with more adventures and experiences than I can reasonably keep track of. I'll share some of the more memorable outings, or at least when I remembered to pull out my camera.


Mt. Rainier Splitboarding -
Between ever increasing temperatures and a nagging foot injury, I've been telling myself for some time that “this will be the last one”, only to dig out my winter gear for yet another mountain mission a couple of weeks later. Sadly, this truly was the last one (until December, of course). The approach was long and the snow mediocre, but I was blessed with great touring partners, astonishing views and inspiration for bigger adventures to come.
Our day started in the White River campground parking lot, slinging heavy packs, surrounded by all manner of folks escaping the heat of the city for the Independence Day weekend.

35631503214_0e549b12d6_b.jpg

The approach was a fairly easy four mile, dry hike up a well worn path.

36466566195_6946d1c33b_b.jpg

Pushing past treeline, we found snow and glimpses of the behemoth.

36466561885_7b056ab536_b.jpg

This trip ended a few hundred feet below 10k on Steamboat Prow of the Inter Glacier (right side of the photo), while the mighty Emmons Glacier (left side of the photo) extends toward the 14,411 foot summit. Zoom in and try to spot the tiny climber-specs as they slog their way up. I can confidently say that I don't currently have the mountaineering chops to get there quite yet, but look forward to getting up there on a return trip in the near future.

36466556155_9bf804ed38_b.jpg

The ride down varied from half frozen chop to sticky applesauce, with every other texture in between, but as always, was well worth the effort.


Enchantments Through Hike -
The next stop on my slow march out of the Pacific Northwest was the quaint and slightly goofy little town of Leavenworth, Washington. For whatever reason, the entire town is built in an old-timey Bavarian theme. Even the local McDonalds. As you might guess, that's not exactly my jam, nor what I came for. My primary objective was an approximately 18 mile hike through a swath of wilderness, home to a string of mountain lakes called The Enchantments. Due to its popularity, overnight camping in the area requires a permit, for which there is a lottery. As with any lottery, you can't win if you don't play. BUT, if you are dumb enough, you can feel free to hike the whole thing in one shot and not worry about the camping permit. And so, determination plus stupidity = ?

36110674831_6c4e67b170_b.jpg

Feeling fresh and happy with my progress a few miles in, I stopped to admire Colchuck Lake. The first of several magnificent blue pools, Colchuck sits at the foot of Asgard Pass. The pass is the rocky, partially snow covered gap in the mountains. If it looks tall, it is, and the trail goes right up the center.

35411405524_0a9e9ac90a_b.jpg

One of the friendly locals greeted me on the way up. He clearly had no fear, and was probably expecting an edible donation.

35852052110_d7e0f427ee_b.jpg

After much sweat and effort, I enjoyed this view from the top. From there, things got interesting

35852049700_3f4b0243d6_b.jpg

A fair number of hours later, after trudging through deep snow, dodging some overly curious mountain goats and tracking a magically vanishing trail. I'm smiling here because I've more or less descended past the snow line.
I was a bit too busy racing the sun to take a lot of pictures, but it is a truly stunning bit of wilderness. Just under 12 hours after my start, I staggered back to the van. Solid Class II fun, for sure.


Squamish/Whistler Mountain Biking -
Are you really from Pennsylvania?
Did you actually drive all of the way here?
How long did that take?
And where are you headed?
What will you be doing there?
Where were you last?
What were you doing there?
Are you employed?
How are you funding this trip?
How much money do you have access to?

I love border crossings.

After a brief stay in Bellingham, Washington, having enjoyed some of their local trails and a pleasantly divey blues bar, I crossed back into British Columbia yet again. On this occasion, I was meeting up with a few members of the PDX splitboard tribe for some world class mountain biking.

36077876162_aea4b3dfa6_b.jpg

This photo sums up a lot of my thoughts and memories of Squamish. Fast food, bikes and climbing. That's Jesse's land yacht all loaded up with bikes, but if I were to zoom out, you'd see that most of the vehicles in the parking lot were similarly packed. Squamish is a very active town. Rock climbing is the other summertime activity that draws people here. That giant rock wall in the background is known as “the chief”, and is the popular destination for that particular tribe.

35411584434_484813f7a3_b.jpg

On our first day of riding, we met up with Jesse's Canadian buddy, Dan, for some smooth, jumpy, flow trails in a zone called Highland

But the main event was our attempt of the Top of the World Trail at Whistler Bike Park. Feeling good after a couple of laps through the lower park trails, we rode the gondola to the top for the beginning of a long, difficult day in the saddle.

36077874612_4df72bd997_b.jpg

Standing in line for the lifts.

36203699786_5c572489aa_b.jpg


36077871352_01443b32b4_b.jpg

We were greeted by snow and cool temperatures at the top. Notice how content and happy we all look. This is before the mountain ground us into dust.

36077867762_13edba7008_b.jpg

Top of the World Trail starts with a few rock drops, roll-ins and other technical features, but quickly mellows out. And, of course, the views were stunning. This is about where “fun”, as it is typically defined, ended, and the adventure began. About halfway down the trail, there is a turnoff onto another trail system that goes outside of the resort proper, then loops back to join one of the park's outermost service roads. Studly adventurers as we are (or thought at the time), the plan was to leave the silly tourists behind, taking the trails, Khyber Pass, Middle of Nowhere and Kush through the dense Pacific Coast rain forest to enjoy some extra awesome. The problem with that, is Whistler. Whistler, and B.C. in general, is where you go to truly test your mettle as a rider. It is a site of pilgrimage for the two-wheeled tribe. Thus, chances are that down-mountain trails ducking out of the safe confines of the resort were pioneered by and are ridden by folk several clicks gnarlier than you (and most certainly me), even in the most ambitious of dreams.

36203698336_97e744c5b9_b.jpg

Needless, to say, I was quite busy for a while, and the camera rarely came out of the bag. I did manage to snag this one grainy photo of Jay sending it down a slick, rooty, near vertical section of trail.
There was a bit of walking, some bruised egos and a broken pinky, but we all survived and earned another interesting life story. Hey, remember that time Whistler mopped the floor with us? Yeah. Sweet, dude.

After my buddies returned to their regularly scheduled lives, I managed one more day of riding in the area, on a rugged cross country trail called “Comfortably Numb”.

36077864892_fcb23fb8f0_b.jpg

While far less fear inducing, Comfortably Numb was a rough grind, featuring one very long climb over notably chunky terrain. The trailhead sign is no joke.

36077860872_b4bb6c3ac5_b.jpg


36245516035_a75016bed3_b.jpg

A couple of the more tame wooden trail features.

35411542034_55b6e89668_b.jpg

After about three hours of nearly continuous uphill, I reached the start of the big descent and broke out my victory cookies.

36245513965_ac7c78cd87_b.jpg

After about four total hours in the saddle, I reached Lost Lake, effectively marking the end of the ride.

35411536924_2ba85fd372_b.jpg

Shoutout to fellow travelers The Trail Gypsies . Spotted their rig in the Whistler Village parking lot


Seven Summits Mountain Bike -
My last and probably favorite ride in B.C. was the Seven Summits loop in Rossland. Typically ridden as a one-way outing, facilitated by a shuttle dropoff, Seven Summits starts with a stout climb, followed undulating, predominately, downhill singletrack across an exposed, alpine ridgeline. The trail proper is 18 miles in length, with a couple extra on a second trail system to get back to the road. Being the cheapskate dirtbag that I am, I opted to save the $25 it would have cost to take the shuttle and simply rode to/from the trail heads.

36069852000_9a64dd2220_b.jpg

The trail traces the ridge in the background of this photo.

35658635723_dbef81864f_b.jpg

Standing at the top of the long, opening singletrack climb, having a logged a few thousand feet and a fair number of miles.

35631642724_d7bb481834_b.jpg


36069845990_d42594458c_b.jpg

Remember that dream you had? Blue skies, perfect temperatures, endless, rolling, wildflower lined trail across a dramatic mountain skyline? Yeah, that one. This was the physical manifestation of that dream.

Out of water, out of food, completely wrung out, enjoying the 90ish degree heat of the valley, with 40 miles and quite a few hours in the bag, I reached my starting point in Rossland and contemplated my departure from Canada.


Are you really from Pennsylvania?
- Yes.
Where did you visit in Canada?
- Rossland.
What were you doing there?
- Mountain biking.
Where were you before that?
- Whistler.
What were you doing there?
- Mountain biking?
Where you before that?
- Bellingham.
What were you doing there?
- Mountain biking.
What is your occupation?
- Well, I was an engineer, bu-...
Was?
- Currently a space pirate.
Any fruits or vegetables?
- Some strange berries I lifted from Endor.
Any weapons?
- Just the turret mounted photon canon.
Okay. Have a great day.


WELCOME TO IDAHO!


Gear up. Flaps up. Now, just eeeease back on the stick and watch the ground slip away...












'Phoo is Listening:
While tripping my way out of the PNW, I took a little detour to Spokane, WA to see the Marcus King Band play. Certainly not on my way to anywhere I was trying to get to, but well worth the miles. The dude looks a bit like Sam Kinison, sounds like a young Warren Haynes, and plays with a band reminiscent of Tower of Power (where were YOU in the '70s?). No clips from the actual show, but I'll leave you with their Jam in the Van session, which I feel is equally appropriate, for obvious reasons.
Plant Your Corn Early - LINK!
 
Last edited:

Phoo

Observer
Alternate perspective of the Top of the World experience -

Friend, co-conspirator, former BMX crusher, and semi-pro videographer, Jesse, tossed together a quick edit of the first part of the day. Posted here:
https://www.instagram.com/p/BW6vBtMlSMe/?taken-by=jessehambley
Spliced and edited in a surprisingly small number of minutes, while the rest of us were licking our wounds, reliving our collected struggles, and/or drinking beer. All of the clips were taken before he tried (unsuccessfully) to smash a rock with his pinky.
Enjoy!
 

Phoo

Observer
Stardate: 2017.9.29
Local Coordinates: 36.413638, -119.098917
Ship's Log:
- Mountain States Fly By -

As my days in space slowly count down toward zero, I've been checking back into reality more and more often. And I wonder what kind of world I'm coming back to. One corner of the country is on fire. One corner is under water. Another corner is just pissed off with everyone and everything (as usual). Bouncing around in my little four-wheeled cocoon, enduring all manner of temperature extremes, hygienic challenges, mechanical issues, long days of endless asphalt, sketchy camping situations, and the day to day rigor of the transient life, I realize that this trip and my resulting temporary detachment is truly a privilege. Perhaps “the news” is good for something after all.

But let's get back to that space odyssey.

- Montana -
Unfortunately, Idaho did not get any love on this trip. I have a finite number of weeks to get to do the things I want to do, and it just didn't make the cut this time around. After leaving British Columbia, I headed straight for Montana and Glacier National Park. As always, pictures tell a better story.

36466644765_2d9ebe7d1a_b.jpg


Of the handful of day hikes that I took, the Highline Trail was my favorite. It leads to some spectacular scenery and has some fun exposure toward the end.

35658602903_473c89654d_b.jpg


The giant scale scenery will draw your attention for sure, but don't forget to look down at the little stuff once in a while.

36298574532_40be375975_b.jpg


An unoccupied fire lookout atop a mountain. Sadly, Glacier N.P. was hit hard by wild fires shortly after I rolled through.

36329460361_7330f956bd_b.jpg


A sign of the times. Leaving the park and heading south, I passed an active fire area where a pair of tanker aircraft were running endless sorties, scooping up water from the lake and dumping somewhere over the forest. A handful of locals sat in their lawn chairs by the lake, watching the action and discussing the situation.


On a bit of a whim, I stopped at the Garnet Ghost Town historical site, just east of Missoula.

35656236533_8f39199ee0_b.jpg


36296140462_72d9889651_b.jpg


36067150640_fea65f191a_b.jpg


36067155160_110649df73_b.jpg


36067158380_26aa09417f_b.jpg


In the late 1800s and into the early 1900s, Garnet was a small mining town. The historical site consists of a number of preserved, but not restored structures including a couple of saloons, a hotel and a number of private residences. Some of the mines are still visible as well. It is staffed by a number of live-in volunteers throughout most of the year. Certainly worth the trip if you find yourself in the area. The roads in are unpaved, but passable by an average sedan with some prudent driving.

Montana, you were great. Next up, Wyoming.
 

Phoo

Observer
- Wyoming -

36175863883_60635a1354_b.jpg


35946243584_5985a9c5a1_b.jpg


Each and every year, the National Parks Service responds to hundreds of outhouse related injuries and fatalities. You may not realize what kind of danger you are in, so for GOODNESS SAKE, people, DO NOT DIVE off the toile...
The first time I saw one of these signs, I laughed hysterically (and pulled out my camera, of course). As it turns out, folks visiting from other parts of the world are unaccustomed to plumbing fixtures that require one to sit, thus the instructional placards. I imagine there could be some awkwardness, and perhaps a mess involved if one were to invoke the praying-mantis-style, though I suspect no one has yet perished on loo. The above were snapped in Yellowstone National Park.

The theme for Yellowstone was crowd avoidance. It is a beautiful place, but don't let these photos fool you. It is quite well traveled.

36796839516_2c905922d5_b.jpg


Giant mounds of sulfur deposits just outside the visitor's center. Most of the park lies within the caldera of what is know as a super-volcano. The constant smell of sulfur is a constant reminder that it is quietly waiting for “next time”, whenever that may be. Try to be on another continent on that day.

36175862813_4af82ab3ba_b.jpg


An old Soviet radar installation. Or maybe just a fire lookout on Mt. Washburn.

36813348712_e53f94ccca_b.jpg


36175861753_5c808616df_b.jpg
[/url]

Looking down again.

36844352471_9807fb856b_b.jpg


36813267142_b2a13b12fd_b.jpg


36844352261_9f2c19cfc6_b.jpg


Most importantly, be sure to get out of the car and take a good long walk. A few minutes past the mob scene, you'll find all manner of wondrous things. Waterfalls, geysers, and relative solitude.


The national parks truly are a treasure, but visiting during their peak season is rather tiring. Expect crowds, long lines, and crazy people being crazy. Having had my fill, I jetted south a little ways for Jackson, Wyoming. Sadly, this was not much of an improvement in terms of human traffic. The number of tourists milling about, snarling traffic and so forth was even higher than normal for a glitzy little ski town, thanks to the impending solar eclipse. Fortunately, most folks don't venture too far past the easy and obvious, and I was able to sneak in a couple of amazing rides on the mountain bike before escaping with my sanity.

36641604591_11ea79fef5_b.jpg


36641602441_b2f2c1a8dc_b.jpg


High up on the pass, just a few miles away from the Idaho border.

36641599191_f3e97a3fec_b.jpg


Ripping through handlebar-high fields of wildflowers. I may or may not have yodeled.


A very long day behind wheel brought me to the other corner of the state to meet up with a large group of friends and friends of friends of friends for a three day backpacking trip and to stare at the sun in the Medicine Bow National Forest. Starting at the Brooklyn Lake, we hiked a few miles in set up camp on day one. Day two was solid 12 miles on the trail to the top of the 12,000 foot Medicine Bow peak and back. Day three, we retraced our steps back to the cars, and drove to another part of the forest for better eclipse viewing.

36641515191_ca441afe97_b.jpg


Leaving camp on day 2.

35946137644_69c2cb52e2_b.jpg


Closing in on the summit.

35955418523_af58975170_b.jpg


Some of the more successful navigators enjoying some roadside sangria in the shade of Spacepod. On the way to the eclipse viewing spot, 4 cars and 11 people got a bit split up. By the magic of gps we managed to find each other again. No, kids, Google and a smart phone are not the correct tools for navigating rugged, mountain backroads. Maps and good sense rule the day.

36594436522_6078e1b9e9_b.jpg


Staring at the sun with a bunch of crazy fools.

36780584635_08dd149373_b.jpg


Totality, as brief as it was, certainly presented a rare treat, but the adventure of getting there and experiencing it with the band of nutters I call friends made it truly special.
It is also worth noting, that traveling for four days with a group of folks who are still very much plugged in, employed, and counting down each spent hour of vacation time was a bold reminder of the frantic, relentless pace of the life I put on pause eight months ago.
 

Phoo

Observer
- Colorado -
With ever shortening days, a little bit of a chill creeping in, and sun beginning to set on this adventure, I did not spend as much time in Colorado as I would have liked. After crashing at a friend's place and subsequently escaping Denver airspace, my short time here focused on getting a few good rides in.

36148957594_a489a015bf_b.jpg


At ~12,000 feet, atop Georgia Pass on a quick two day bikepacking trip along a section of the Colorado Trail.

36813429802_f10028836c_b.jpg


36984753835_34b3252aaf_b.jpg


My last ride in Colorado was another overnight bikepacking trip on the fabled Kokopelli trail.

36813428812_7673be689a_b.jpg


That extra 20-30 lbs of food, water and camping gear means that sometimes you push...

36813427832_578ca02545_b.jpg


36587468230_888e8aea10_b.jpg


But the scenery and adventure are worth it!

Next stop, Utah -










'Phoo is Listening:
A shameless repost of a repost of a repost, but with everything going on, it's good to stop for a little chill-out moment. I'll sign off with this delightful mashup of philosopher Alan Watts and film maker Terrance Malick.
Link!
“The existence, the physical universe is basically playful. There is no necessity for it whatsoever. It isn't going anywhere”
 

Phoo

Observer
Stardate: 2017.11.8
Local Coordinates: 34.202480, -90.574685
Ship's Log:
- Thermal Management and Other Extremes -
In my last post, I may have briefly complained about the heat while riding the Kokopelli Trail. However, when whining about the temperature, it is is extremely important to keep in mind that all things are relative. From Grand Junction, CO, I drove on to Moab, UT. Things went from hot to hotter. Some of the PNW splitboard crew who knew my plans, posed the simple question of “WHY”? Why go to the desert in the summer (even late summer is still uncomfortable)? Because. I want to see it, and this is the time that I have. Also, sometimes it's “fun” just to see if you can survive a particularly harsh environment. Moab greeted me with endless, brilliant sunshine and daytime highs close to 105F. By the way, good luck finding a tree to park under to escape the sun. Not too many of those around. And thus began my hopeless addiction to the delicious chocolate Frosty from Wendy's.

Moab itself is small recreation and tourism centered town, sitting in the midst of some rather stunning natural scenery. People from all over, flock to the area to drive their motorized off-road toys, ride bikes and/or hike. Spacepod has taken enough of a beating just getting in and out of rugged campsites everyday, so I stuck with the latter two activities.



23605018818_3617e89403_b.jpg


My first full day in town was centered around a hike into the William Grandstaff Canyon. This canyon is relatively shady and has a nice, cool creak running through it.

36786800873_1e2b07e8a1_b.jpg


I managed to stretch this adventure out by way of lounging and loitering at the various trail-side pools until late afternoon when the temperature dropped to a relatively brisk 96F.



My big ride for the week included a large chunk of what is known as The Whole Enchilada. In addition to waiting for a day when spontaneous combustion is no longer a likely issue, most wiser folk take one of the many shuttles available from town, a few thousand vertical feet up Sand Flats Road to ride the network of rugged trails back down to the Colorado River. Lucky for me, I'm both cheap and stupid.

37456601391_95765cbd67_b.jpg


With the van parked down near the river, I rode through town, and most of the way up Sand Flats for a couple-few extra hours of saddle time.

23605011078_3b76206871_b.jpg


23605008448_04de79920c_b.jpg


My ride down included LPS, UPS and Porcupine Rim trails, effectively cutting off some of the upper trails. However, I made it back to my sun soaked home on wheels before the worst heat of the day, and avoided bursting into flame while bouncing down the rocky trail.

* PRO TIP * Many small towns, Moab included, have community pools open to the public for a small fee (usually $5). These pools also typically have shower facilities. Just look for the parking lot full of Sprinter vans, rusted out Astros, and heavily packed, dual sport motos.



In a recent conversation with a friend about my love/hate relationship with national parks, it was decided that the parks are a great place to drive around and see cool stuff. Like a big outdoor museum. For actual Class II fun/adventure, in most cases it is best to look elsewhere (with some exceptions, of course). Such is the case with THE main draw for the Moab area; Arches National Park.

37199253840_8d0eb07d4b_b.jpg


I spent a day there. I drove around. I went on a handful of short hikes. I saw some very cool stuff. Arches are neat!



Canyonlands National Park, just a few miles away, is a different sort of beast. It is huge, it is wild, it is severe, you could get lost, and you might die. I loved it!

37199247970_95701b11ac_b.jpg


37425606112_7550fdf2c1_b.jpg


I only had time to punch out one hike on one day, but one could spend weeks and months exploring there.

37425597302_de66184c26_b.jpg


This road goes from the northeast entrance, deep into the bowels of the beast. Another day, perhaps, in a more capable spacecraft.



Having had my fill of scorching heat, Park City was next. Aside from being at elevation, back in the trees and MUCH cooler, PC appears to be just another glitzy, fancy, little ski-tourist town. For the most part, I pillaged their manicured trail network like a Viking-dirtbag and got the heck out. No Country For Grungy Men, says I.

37425594132_2e99c66407_b.jpg


But those trails though... A quickie from the Park City IMBA Epic. Let me tell you, the views from up high did not suck.

36786771843_51643f9385_b.jpg


This trail marker made me chuckle. I honestly did not see these two characters ever getting together. Crazy, mixed up world...



My last stop on the way out of Utah was the Bonneville Salt Flats. There really isn't a whole lot there to see, but at the same time, it is very much worth seeing. Don't forget your sunglasses!

37409567066_1b9ebc4931_b.jpg


While I was there, officials from the local club were setting up the track for an event the coming weekend.

23605360768_98b17dcd64_b.jpg


Getting ready to test the world's fastest minivan. The driving experience is rather unique, but if I were to compare it to something, I'd say it's a bit like packed snow.



Due to time constraints, Nevada did not get anything more than a single day flyby. Next up: California!
 

Phoo

Observer
Stardate: 2017.11.21
Local Coordinates: 40.047008, -75.459615
Ship's Log:
- Supersize Contrast -

“Jazz isn't dead. It just smells funny.”
- Frank Zappa

I suppose you can take what you want from that statement, but I will say that currently, the genre certainly gets more attention from a slightly older demographic.

36747697834_d8fea8c3f1_b.jpg


I guess the plethora of advertisements squarely targeting my parent's generation may be a bit of an indicator. After a brief stopover in San Francisco to visit a buddy, the first real destination for the California leg of the trip was the Monterey Jazz Festival. It was a completely different vibe than the decidedly hippy-esque Four Peaks Music Festival a few months ago, but enjoyable none the less. I generally found myself surrounded by folks a couple decades older than myself, but saw numerous amazing acts each of the three days I was there, somewhat ironically performed by folks (usually) closer to my own age, and often younger. Not quite sure what the “kids these days” are listening to. Them-thar Backstreet Kids on the Snyc or some such business? Whatever. Get off my lawn.



After three days of apparently funny smelling jazz and three nights in disturbingly overpriced Monterey area campsite (where I did my best to get my money's worth in delightful, hot showers), I'd had my fill of civilization for a bit and headed back to the hills to click off a few more national park visits

36787097673_5fd88e039f_b.jpg


Here at Yosemite, the generalized equation for optimized national park enjoyment holds quite true...

37409552716_c126416811_b.jpg


dF/dt = [(drive around a bit) + (some short hikes) + (see cool stuff)]^2/t
Where function F(t) is the personal enjoyment term, FUN, expressed with respect to the independent time variable “t”.

37199624790_c409d9bf37_b.jpg


I met these characters on my first hike up to Glacier Point. Peter and Mira, from the Czech Republic had made the same mistake as I, and gotten off the park shuttle at the wrong stop, missing the trailhead by about a half mile. They were on their own break-from-life sort of adventure and joined me for the eightish mile out and back hike. Our at-times enlightening conversation ranged from beer (they were really into Budweiser) to Moto GP to politicians to immigration policy and beyond!

37199667000_ca554a71c7_b.jpg


My last hike was a little trek to the top of Yosemite Falls.

37409507066_49f1c333fa_b.jpg


However, if one is truly inclined to live dangerously, there is plenty of that here. Yosemite happens to be a major destination for rock climbers. The above photo is of a climbing team camped out in their porta-ledge shelter, part way into a multi day effort up the fabled monolith El Capitan.




The important thing to remember is that everything is bigger in... California. Or was that some other state I'm thinking of?

36787014123_a8f55a0349_b.jpg


Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Parks are adjacent, co-managed parks, a couple hours east of San Francisco, and just west of the mountains. For most visitors, the experiences of the two largely blend together, as the main draw is the abundance of comically humongous trees.

36787074403_d030735280_b.jpg


This is the “Boole Tree” in the national forest just outside of the park, accessible by way of a short drive down a dirt road and a two mile hike through the woods.

23605300268_23b95904ae_b.jpg


The primary draw, however is the “General Sherman” tree, the largest by volume,

36747615944_031a215acf_b.jpg


… and it's similarly monstrous neighbors.




Without question, California is a large state, and there is quite a bit to see here. Three weeks in, though, I was starting to get antsy again, but there were a still just a couple of more stops that I wanted to make toward the southern end of the state.

24466923208_6fed3bab01_b.jpg


This is the Salton Sea. It is a fairly large and very salty inland sea resulting from an agricultural accident. Shortly after its formation, a number of towns popped up on its banks to take advantage of the newly forming beach tourism industry. Unfortunately, the Salton has no natural source other than agricultural runoff, and thus, the salinity is constantly increasing. Eventually, the fish started to die off and tourism died off, leaving behind the powerful odor of decaying marine life and a handful of dilapidated, post-apocalyptic looking shore towns, clinging to existence. There are some farms and some geothermal plants nearby, but not much else. Quite honestly, it was a rather sad scene, and not a place I enjoyed being.

37623601924_fcba73416a_b.jpg


Not a whole lot to see out here, but these arrow-straight roads were a bit mind bending.




Just a few miles further east, stands a towering, colorful pile of plaster and paint, painstakingly erected as a monument to the religious devotion of its creator.

38337140431_6397f080ff_b.jpg


Salvation Mountain stands in stark contrast to its neighbor, the Salton Sea, and attracts a steady influx of rental cars, toting camera wielding tourists from gentler places.

38306348932_cc7fb0f980_b.jpg


Regardless of your metaphysical alignment, Salvation Mountain is impressive and intense.

37623598884_b1ec04fdaa_b.jpg


It represents a certain level of dedication that few can really understand.

37623594104_83c79c87d2_b.jpg


Something that borders on obsession, and leaves behind a certain energy that is near palpable.

38306346892_531218d042_b.jpg


#STAYSTRANGE indeed.




Despite the line of crisply pressed, polished and perfumed visitors from elsewhere, Salvation Mountain sits just inside the the boundary of the off-grid municipality of Slab City.

37623981454_4897258ca0_b.jpg


Contrast.
Punch that name into Google and prepare for the landslide of myth, legend, warnings, horror stories, photos, interviews, reports and the like. Aside from driving around for a little bit, I did not spend a great deal of time here. By my eye, Slab City appeared to be a loose collection of folks out in the desert, living their lives the best they can, away from the incessant hum and chaos of mainstream (un)civilization. Out of respect, I kept my camera holstered.
As I slowly rolled toward the edge of town, a young couple strolling down the opposite side of the dirt road, clad in sandals and handmade clothing, greeted me, waving outstretched hands and fingers in the universal sign for peace... then quickly covered their faces with the bandannas loosely tied about their necks. In my rear view mirror was the olive drab thunder, rumble and dust of a fast approaching army convoy. No doubt heading into the neighboring test range, complete with audible, intermittent but unmistakable clatter of automatic weapons firing.

Contrast.
 

CSG

Explorer
You're living the dream, Phoo. Best to do these things when you're younger so you have them for the rest of your life. As we get older, we still go out there but can't do the same things in the same way we did when we were younger. I'm probably your parent's age or older but I've been doing this stuff one way or another for almost a half century! (I'm 67 now).
 

Phoo

Observer
Yup, you are approximately my parents' age. Interestingly (or perhaps not), the majority of the folks I meet in my travels have been a good bit older than I. Your generation, plus or minus a few years. I'll take that as inspiration to keep moving as I too get older! A lot of people my own age and younger are too wrapped up in establishing themselves and chasing the dream to take a timeout and really go after things. I suppose time will tell as to the wisdom of my life decisions!
 

CSG

Explorer
Phoo, one thing we find as we get older is that we're the same person we were when we were younger. Behind your eyes, you'll always be the same person even when all around you think you remind them of their dad or, worse, their granddad.

When my wife and I hit the road in 1992, we found that most people we ran into that were doing what we were doing were older than we were too.
 

unkamonkey

Explorer
Yes, travel while you can. I was in a situation where there wasn't enough work for all of us as they had a family so I walked. Do it while you can. I've never regretted it.
 

Phoo

Observer
Stardate: 2017.12.09
Odometer: 32,000
Local Coordinates: 40.047008, -75.459615
Ship's Log:
- Last Call for Hydrazine or Turning Final -

THIS is dumb. Moronic. WHY?! Effing rocks. Dumb hills. Freakin' logs.
It's hot... no, profoundly hot. A cloudless sky and relentless sun are doing their best to finish me off once and for all. A fine slurry of sweat and dust covers every inch of exposed skin and stings my eyes. My legs are cramping. My hands are sore and bruised after bouncing down the abusively rough downhill that follows the abusively long climb at mile forty. This time is different, though. THIS one really will be the last time. The last time down that particularly soul crushing hill on the way to way to aid station #5. The last time carrying my bike through the gnarly, tangled mess that is the Fisherman's Trail. Because I'm not suffering through this masochistic garbage again. Done.
That's what I told myself, anyhow.
That was July 2016. Somehow, I'd convinced myself to sweat, suffer and swear through the Wilderness 101 (a particularly torturous mountain bike race, deep in the steamy hills of central PA) for the third time.

There are two notable instances when we start counting Last Times.

Last climb, last exam, last day of school, last funky pit toilet, last night out in the cold, last meal involving canned sardines...


Times of acute discomfort,

Last night under the stars, last campfire, last glorious downhill, last powder day, last adventure...


and after moments of great joy.

At the end of all things, both will remain the freshest and most meaningful of memories. The substance by which we truly define our tragically short trip, hurtling through time and space. The good, the bad, and sometimes the ugly. Embrace it all. Most everything else is just filler.
The 101 again (4th time's a charm) in 2018? We shall see.



After leaving Slab City, I turned Spacepod east and crossed over the border into Arizona, and headed north, stopping just past the Yuma Proving Grounds at Palm Canyon. I spent one day and two nights in the general area, appreciating both the beauty and brutality of the desert.

38282505916_441af7473a_b.jpg


The evening of my arrival, I squeezed in a short hike up the mouth of the canyon along its rocky and occasionally faint trail for this glorious sunset.
The following day included a scorching but otherwise uneventful ride along some of the double track crisscrossing the are. Fortunately, I did not happen upon any of the unexploded ordinance as cautioned by the sign in the parking area.




From Palm Canyon, I continued east, past Phoenix to the Apache Trail. The trail, is actually a rough, crunchy, 40 mile, mostly dirt road drive through the Superstition Mountains, ending at Lake Roosevelt.

24467085808_b0e82fe45f_b.jpg


In a truck of some sort, it's probably a rather pleasant, scenic drive. For fools in sedans and overloaded grocery haulers, the route demands a bit of attention.

37623780784_4a79051d73_b.jpg


The following morning included a short out and back hike along the Arizona Trail, and an opportunity to look back on the Apache Trail and surrounding scenery.




Upon recommendation of a buddy back east, the next stop was Sedona for some seat time on the bike.

38921127081_49aea57502_b.jpg


By my count, there are about four primary groups that flock to Sedona. Much like Moab, the hikers, mountain bikers and off-roaders are all strongly represented. Unlike Moab (Utah, not Jordan), many also come for spiritual reasons. The didgeridooist above was a representative of the Krishna Conscious Society.

38337473831_59dfb066d5_b.jpg


38337472511_503249c136_b.jpg


Of course, I was just there to ride those lovely red rocks.




However, the next stop, though not spiritual, held some special meaning.

38337302551_dbbc367835_b.jpg


It feels like it was a decade, but close to ten months ago, I'd planned for the Grand Canyon to be my first real destination. The realities of an unusually cold and wet west coast winter abruptly extinguished that idea with about two feet of snow pounding Flagstaff and areas north when I first buzzed through in January.

38306454952_504549859a_b.jpg


Somewhat warm, but overall much more favorable weather permitted an overnight trip to the bottom and back.

38306458402_e1aede5ff9_b.jpg


38337306121_c45c1bac67_b.jpg





Satisfied with my Arizona experience, I kept pushing east. Crossing over the continental divide for the last time, the finality of things was truly starting to settle.

37623913014_e0e0d8efab_b.jpg


38337383891_d020b73f75_b.jpg


I managed to squeeze in a quick trip to the Petrified Forest National Park, before swinging south through Roswell,

38204423134_70dfd55b03_b.jpg


because... why not?

38204422884_23a89de775_b.jpg


With an obligatory stop at the UFO museum.




The real gem of this leg of the trip, however, was Carlsbad Cavern.

26562797969_493b668beb_b.jpg


There is an elevator in the visitors' center that will carry you several hundred feet down to the bottom, but walking through the mouth of the cave, and following the paved, mile long path on foot was well worth the effort.

37623910774_6caf845cea_b.jpg


38282425556_99c8a01735_b.jpg


In an unfortunately not-so-rare stroke of foolishness, I left my tripod in the van, and thus can not come close to doing justice to this freaky subterranean landscape. This is the best I could do, propping the camera on my knee and such.




Having wrapped up my last days out in the hot, dry, rugged desert, I shot back north, way north in fact, for a few last adventures in Taos.

24467179128_e7effef304_b.jpg


One last campfire under the stars, under the stars and deep in trees.

38033600745_8898177e43_b.jpg


One last romp on the bike, with landscape expertly carved by the Rio Grande and Company.

And one last hike, starting at Taos Ski Valley up to Wheeler Peak.
*Oops! My camera battery froze, but trust me when I tell you it was cold, snowy and the air was thin at 13K. Nice views too!*




And so it finally ends. The last of the Lasts have all been counted. Mission complete. Return to base.
Long weary engines cough out the last wisps of spent fuel, screaming turbo pumps fall mute and the little Spacepod angles gently downward towards the thick atmosphere of reality. A few precious moments to reflect on a lifetime experience before the searing heat of reentry.

Turbulence. Streaks of light. Clouds. Moisture. Civilization's distant glow.

The radio crackles to life -
“... meat waagin in da haamah laaayne... mile markeh one fifteh foh”


- END TRANSMISSION -​
 

Forum statistics

Threads
185,538
Messages
2,875,655
Members
224,922
Latest member
Randy Towles
Top