Saturday, September 6, 2003
Late last night I arrived in Sequoia National Park after driving for about six hours. Upon arrival another two hours was required to get to my campsite, Stony Creek Village. This morning, while fighting a batch of powdered eggs, I discovered (was told) that extra payment was required for staying at the site. I replied I would be gone as soon as breakfast was done and I was.

I filled what was left of my morning with trees, fallen and upright, and a 1/4 mile climb up Moro Rock - one of the Park's more popular landmarks. The early afternoon was well filled with a short, but enjoyable, 3.4 mile hike to the top of "Little Baldy." The name comes from the peak which rises just above the tree line giving it a somewhat bald appearance.

That brings me here to my new (free) campsite at Big Meadows. I saw a few meadows earlier today and I would hardly say this qualifies as either big or a meadow. It's quiet though and I won't have to ignore passing cars like last night. I suspect, however, tomorrow I will once again be on the move.

Sunday, September 7, 2003
The morning here in Sequoia came early. I rose with the sun around 6:30 and by a hair before 8:00 everything was packed up and I had already begun the trek to the top of Big Baldy. The view from the peak was about the same as Little Baldy, just from another angle.

After the descent I set out looking for water which took a little longer than first expected although the view at Hume Lake was simply spectacular (the all girl's volleyball game at the Christian Camp didn't hurt either.)

The afternoon brought a very enjoyable six mile hike around a variety of trails. I passed by old log cabins, a waterfall, and some of the most magnificent Sequoias I have seen since being here.

If I was to have more time I would only give myself another day. While the area is beautiful there is simply not enough here to stay interested as a solo participant that isn't backpacking. That is my combined thought for the day.

Monday, September 8, 2003
Although I have moved only a little bit north (about 50 miles) it is much colder here in Yosemite. I am thankful that my dad sent gloves and a knit cap which I thought silly at the time. I still ended up buying an extra sweat shirt just in case.

My day began at 5:00am so I could make a quick escape from Sequoia and "officially" check out on leave. I drove for a little over an hour before getting a signal on my phone, but in brought me an hour closer to here.

After arriving and paying an obscene $20 to get in (plus $36 for three nights stay) I did some quick research on some afternoon hikes. I saw three of the four major falls in the Yosemite valley; Bridalveil, Vernal, and Nevada. My knees may never forgive me for the way I came down the stone staircase edging along the bank, but they must be ready for whatever happens to tomorrow.

My resting place for the next three nights is and will be White Wolf on the Tioga Road. It's a bit cluttered, but quiet and that is what's important. More to come...

Tuesday, September 9, 2003
I woke up freezing this morning, but I guess camping at 8,000 feet will do that. Actually, the entire park was cold from the valley floor to the highest peaks, but tomorrow will reportedly be much warmer (for northern California standards.)

Today I hung out around the Tioga Road and, despite being off the main drag, didn't miss a thing. My morning began with photo sessions of some controlled fires right along the road and few good shots of Cloud's Rest and Half Dome from Olmsted Point. Seeing as I couldn't just drive around all day I checked my map and found Tenaya Lake a short distance away. The half hour spent trying to take a decent picture hardly seemed worth my trouble (even if the results look like postcards.)

While at the lake I realized I couldn't see cathedral Peak; one I was interested in. I soon found a trail leading to Cathedral Lake beside a meadow at the base of the mountain. Four miles in, next to the lake, I understood what kept Ansel Adams so intrigued with the park. While everything may not be picturesque it is awe inspiring and often beautiful beyond words.

My afternoon hike to Dog Lake and Lambert Dome proved just that point. Neither were as magnificent as El Capitan, Half Dome, or Mirror Lake; but once you them or the view they held nothing else seemed to matter. They could not be compared because they were unique and in their own right awesome to fathom.

For all that there is to see and do here I am burdened by one thing: What do I want to do tomorrow?

Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Despite the tempters being below freezing this morning (ice in the water bottles), I slept very warm and sound last night. The only trick was getting out of the bag and into something warm. I failed miserably, but lived to tell the tale, so, it couldn't have been all that bad.

This was a very long, short day on account of my knees still aching from my Nevada Falls trek. I did, however, meet my goal in hiking up to Upper Yosemite Falls -- the last on my list. Although I may regret it tomorrow I suppose the phrase "No pain, no gain" may be all too fitting. After my short five mile (plus) trek I headed over to the Yosemite Village to send off a postcard and check out some of the shops and museums. This park is by far the most commercial I have ever seen or heard of, but I suppose it comes with the view. The international revere is evident on nearly every switchback. I think there are more foreigners here than Americans. While I find the idea sad it is also rather uplifting. I couldn't tell you a single park anywhere outside of states (except Australia because I've been there) and yet I feel like I'm visiting the U.N. in the middle of the most beautiful National Park. Word is obviously getting around.

Back to the topic at hand -- I made a few stops for pictures while in the valley including a couple that involved wading across the Merced River, which was welcome as the day had heated up considerably (and there has been no mention of a shower yet).

As much as I wish I could stay tomorrow I must head east across Nevada for a very brief stop in Great Basin. There is always so much left to do when you don't seem to have any time left to do it.

Thursday, September 11, 2003
Today was mostly a lost cause, but I did see a good chunk of America rarely visited by average tourists.

I awoke early and packed up camp as the sun rose. I snapped a few last photographs of the park that I could almost call home and then cruised down out of the park running on fumes, hoping for a gas station sometime soon. Out on the open road (with a full tank of gas) I discovered the best/worst highway I have ever had the pleasure of encountering, CA-120. The dips and bumps that would make a RVer scream are a blast at 60+mph.

One wrong turn later I was 60 miles out of the way with no desire or way to make up for lost time. Once back on track I sailed across Nevada on the "Loneliest Road in America," I-50. It wasn't uncommon to drive for 20 or 30 minutes without seeing another living soul which was bad as there wasn't a whole hell of a lot to look at. Desert mountains and scrubby bushes can become rather monotonous in a very short time.

I finally arrived at Great Basin National Park an hour later than intended and did a quick tour of the easy sights. The one trail I took led me to my second wrong turn of the day and ended my sightseeing. The sun was getting too low to make a second attempt and which was once again disappointing. (notice a pattern today?) Thus ends my day (thankfully), with a simple meal of beans and rice. Tomorrow is another long haul and so I must be getting off to sleep.

Friday, September 12, 2003
Today was a day of compromise, but everything worked out for the best and has led to improvements in the future. I left Great Basin early in the morning and fought the sun through what was left of eastern Nevada into Western Utah where the scenery changed very little. By the time the sun had cleared the windshield, however, I began to gain some respect for the Mormons that first settled the state over a century and a half before. Central Utah is gorgeous and as you approach the eastern side of the scenery is simply magnificent. It is impossible to describe the awesome size of things in words, so I hope my pictures come out well enough to give them justice.

Tonight I was supposed to camp at Arches, but the site was full, so, I headed back up the road a ways to Canyonlands National Park. The area I am staying in is known as "Island in the Sky" because it is perched high on a mesa cut off from the valleys below by the Green and Colorado rivers which have cut deep canyons down either side this portion of the park. My campsite, Willow Flat, is just a few hundred yards from the Green River Overlook and Soda Springs Basin -- a grand sight to say the least.

While I didn't do much hiking today on account of my late arrival I did manage to squeeze in a couple two mile treks at the Grand View Point, Whale Rock, and Upheaval Dome. The last is a true anomaly with multiple scientific explanations. It is completely out of place and therefore most intriguing. With all luck tomorrow will be just as interesting.

Saturday, September 13, 2003
Today I took Arches by storm. I awoke before daybreak to stand in line so I could ensure myself a campsite, lucky #7, at Arches. Immediately after paying the fee for the night I headed for the appropriately named Devil's Garden, the longest trail at Arches at a mere 7.2 miles including side trails. I actually added a bit to that by making the extra trek out to a lonely spire known simply as Dark Angel. The side trails I made on my return trip with the theory that photos would come out better in the canyons later in the morning and the Dark Angel would be able to stand proudly against a magnificent blue early morning sky. The theory worked.

Upon completing my trek I headed into Moab to alert my parents of the change in plans since they had expected a call the day before ensuring them that I was still alive. **My parents worried more about me traveling alone through the US than they did while I was in a combat zone just a few months prior; go figure.

Upon my return to the park I stopped at all of the major points of interest including the Courthouse Towers, Windows, Wolfe Ranch, Delicate Arch, and the Fiery Furnace. The only real hiking involved was around windows (where my camera decided to flake out on me) and the 3 miles round trip to Delicate Arch (an image that graces Utah centennial license plates). The latter called for a tough, up-hill, slickrock climb that got a few complaints from the not so fit travelers. It was a shame they couldn't make it to the top for a truly breathtaking view that was worth every aching muscle.

There are only a couple arches (major) remaining that I have not seen, but I need 4WD to get to them safely, so, they will have to wait for another day. My time here is over and tomorrow I'll be gone.

Sunday, September 14, 2003
Today started out well enough before turning to disappointment and the back to good, very good actually.

I left Arches at dawn and enjoyed an excellent breakfast at the Moab Diner (an institution in the small town). I roughed out my trip plan futily and ended up following signs to Natural Bridges. I suppose I was expecting more when I arrived just coming from Arches. A natural bridge, by definition, is caused by a river getting tired of going around a rock and starts to bore through it. Unfortunately, the three bridges were well below the viewpoints and partially obscured by trees and rocks. Seeing as I had other places to be I didn't take the 8.6 miles hike through the valley, but I did take the short trails to "better" viewpoints. With my knees still aching from Yosemite and the continual strain I had put on them I was not thrilled with the whole ordeal.

Back on the road again I headed down Utah State Highway 261, marked "Road Closed" at it's start on a hand painted sign. Since I have just watched a car come off the highway I ignored the warning and took a winding, bouncing trip through southern Utah before traversing down the side of a cliff on dirt and rock roads into the Valley of the Gods. While the view was spectacular it could not be captured effectively on my camera so I moved on to Mexican Hat, a queer rock formation, whose name amply describes itself. Seeing no reason to return to Valley of the Gods for the night as planned I headed to Monument with hopes of finding something to fill the rest of my day and a place to crash for the night.

Just outside the tiny Navajo town of Goulding my hopes were answered. I did a bit of souvenir shopping in plywood stores selling Indian handicraft before being led down the road a bit further to the Monument Valley Tribal Park which came highly recommended in my research. I was immediately able to secure a campsite, however, getting a tour doomed to be outrageously expensive or terribly illegal. However, a large group from Denver showed up for a tour on horseback and were more than happy to have me along (at a much discounted price for myself). I excellently (somehow) demonstrated my skills in horsemanship and even provided a few tips though I am by all rights an amateur. The conversation was friendly and cordial despite me being an outsider and helped to brighten the already stupendous views.

After the ride the Hensley's (the group) invited me on a trip through the dirt roads of the park in their vehicle which was much better equipped to handle the terrain than my Lumina. They made me feel that I was part of the family and kept me fed and watered in between stops for photos. While I had already donated an extra hat and some neo-sporin for their aid I could hardly say that I was as generous as they were, but I did what I could with what little I had to offer. While I believe they would have been as kind regardless I think they respected my effort. I sincerely hope to keep in touch with them in the future as my distant adoptive family.

Monday, September 15, 2003
Today was short in every respect. I had a short drive to Canyon de Chelly, a short time hiking the view overlook trails, and a short trek down into the Canyon itself followed by a short trip into town and a short tie reading end in my shortest entry of the trip thus far. I am growing anxious of home.

Tuesday, September 16, 2003
Tonight I am alone deep in the valley somewhere in the Painted Desert known as the Black Forest. To call it a forest now is a joke, but millions of years ago I am sure the area thrived with plant and animal life. Today the only remnants are the chunks of petrified wood scattered about as if a tornado had just ripped through the area, devastating anything standing in it's path.

I know that civilization is close by, a mere twelve or thirteen miles as the crow flies, but the only sound I hear is the wind and an occasional bird and the only sight is the open valley surrounded by cliffs of every color all turning red now in the fading light. This is a lonely and desolate place at the fingertips of man, yet so far away except for the occasional passerby such as myself. Living like this is more than I am, yet I am glad to have experienced it.