Cramped Up, Get Out: Hit The Road Three

A Little Longer, Get Out, Just A Day, Weekends

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Part Three: Roadside companions

Sometimes on a road trip, it’s the little things rather than the big views that bring you the most satisfaction. Upon our exit from a horrendously hot and demoralizing experience of backpacking in the Grand Canyon, we were fortunate enough to have an oasis of sorts to go home to, hang our Roo’s and have a cold beer. Our oasis wasn’t necessarily physical to start, but rather a couple sweet, sweet unicorns that were also road tripping around the southwest at the same time we were.

Our friends, Risa and Michael, offered some much needed comfort, some killer cooking skills, and just the companionship we wanted at that moment. Over the next week, we made our way up and out of Arizona and into and across southern Utah, zipping through all those Utah state parks that without fail cause a shortness of breath and the occasional tear. We caravanned through desert, mountains, and even took refuge from the heat in a pine valley, a cool valley of pines, happily accompanied by the name “Pine Valley”. We saw nature in full Kodachrome, constantly astounded by the colors flying by and taking shape as the sun laid down for another southwestern evening, putting on a show and casting golden hues across our smiling, satisfied and full faces.

Our friends cooked, and when we say they cooked, THEY COOKED! They made meal after meal, carefully crafted on cast iron, heated only by the fires we tended, maybe a stove or two as well. Regardless, we were healed through food, fixed through friends, and when the time came to part there was a palpable bitter-sweetness to leave our comrades. And so we did, on to Colorado separately, while our friends stayed to explore more of the Mormon wonderland by way of Moab and Arches.

Fast forward 3 weeks and 3000 miles. We had figured we wouldn’t see our dear friends for quite some time, but as fate would have it, South Dakota had a different plan and we were once again greeted by Risa and Michael as well as an evening of crackling lightning, deafening thunder, and rain drops so thick they sting with their weight. An evening soaked in fear and soaked in a tent, and we were left a little tired, but happy to grab some diner breakfast and continue on our separate journeys. We said our goodbyes (for real this time), and each moved on to newer, literally greener pastures along the rust belt, every day pushing a little further East.

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Photo Locations (from top to bottom): Camille taking pictures in Bryce Canyon; Zion National Park geology; Risa at Bryce; Bryce through the pines; Desert tree; Bryce Canyon rock formations; Desert flower; The depth of Bryce Canyon; Ty walking into Bryce; Bryce Canyon big view; Ty at Bryce sunset with camera; Risa’s Bryce sunset; Home at Pine Valley, UT; Michael cooking a feast; Ty’s Bryce sunset; Glen Canyon view; Camille standing in Zion; Desert sage and cactus in Utah; Risa and Michael at Bryce.

Photos taken on Canon AE-1 with 35mm film and on Canon Rebel SL-1.

Cramped Up, Get Out: Hit The Road Two

A Little Longer, Get Out, Just A Day, Trips, Weekends

Part Two: Hot road lifestyle adjustment.

You forget what it truly means to be on the road. You are rich in places to sleep, yet essentially homeless. Your car is your home. Your car is your kitchen. Every national forest is your home. Your hammock and tent, your nest. Every Walmart parking lot, a potential home if all else fails. You create systems inside your car that only you understand. Everything has a place. Five inches of space are as valuable as a whole room in your house. You become one. Your seats start to smell. The dashboard is thick with dust and dirt. You brought a bunch of clothes, but you wear the same every day. There’s a collection of rocks starting to grow already. Cold beer is god.

We alternated between trail and road. Sweaty then showering down in the campground bathroom. Or a bath in the creek, any cool water would do. The heat penetrated our souls as we careened across the south west of our country, and some days we felt like we may never be cool again. We began to deeply and carelessly long for our future in Maine; the notion of cold winter and icy fingers became an every day daydream.

A hike into the depths of the Grand Canyon brought us to our knees far away from the comforts of civilization. We struggled in a new way, but that discomfort made the reward that much sweeter: friends awaiting us at the rim with a campsite we’d call home where we hung our hammocks, drank cold beer and ate not-cliff bars. We slept like babies (until one of us was nudged by a burro in the night), and awoke refreshed, ready to find new roads to explore and new places to lay our heads for a night or two.

The options were endless, we chose the way. This was our new life.

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Photo Locations (from top to bottom): Roadside stand east of Grand Canyon on AZ Rt 89; Crossing the Colorado River near Marble Canyon; Hermit Creek trail inside the Grand Canyon; Vegetation inside the Grand Canyon; Dreamcatcher on AZ Rt 89; The vast Grand Canyon National Park; Dealing with the heat inside the Grand Canyon; Rocks in Arizona; Comfort at Desert View Campground, Grand Canyon; Roadside stand flags east of Grand Canyon on AZ Rt 89; View of the Colorado River from the Tonto Trail inside the Grand Canyon.

All photos taken with 35mm film on a Canon AE-1.

Cramped Up, Get Out: Hit The Road One

A Little Longer, Get Out, Just A Day, Trips, Weekends

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Part One: Our last hurrah in California.

In May we packed up our San Francisco studio apartment – the one which has kept us “cramped up” – and we busted out of the Bay Area with one thing in mind: to get out.

We got out of our routines, out of our jobs, out of our apartment, out of our comfort zones. Outside, out of town, on and off roads, in and out of our typical notion of civilization. Five weeks zig-zagging our way across the United States, knowing it was only the beginning of an entire three and a half months we would spend on the road; plane tickets awaited us on the East Coast, bound for Europe.

But first this. Our first week was spent working our way down the 395 through the great state of California, our now former home, enjoying its beauty and slowly preparing to detach. Quickly remembering what it feels like to roam free.

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Photo Locations (from top to bottom): Route 62 driving east from Joshua Tree; Yosemite National Park; Hike near Lake George in Mammoth Lakes CA; Crystal Crag from trail in Mammoth Lakes; Shepherd’s Hot Spring in Mammoth; Fossil Falls off CA395; view off Route 62; Desert life in Joshua Tree National Park; Friend’s re-furbished trailer in Joshua Tree; Warm sunset in Joshua Tree; Plant silhouette in Joshua Tree; Ready for bed in friend’s trailer Joshua Tree; Joshua Tree starry night.

Photos taken on Canon AE-1 with 35mm film and on Canon Rebel SL-1.

An Icelandic Adventure: Where Fairies Come From

A Little Longer, Trips

Seljavallalaug – Iceland’s Oldest Pool

We were awake early and snuck by throngs of tourists to steal breakfast from the hotel we didn’t stay at. With at least a bit of Skyr and some pickled herring in our stomachs we got in the car to find the fabled hot spring swimming pool, Iceland’s oldest, Seljavallalaug.

The dirt road we decided would bring us to the trailhead, ended up being the right one on our too small map and when we got out of the car there was still a bite to the air as the sun hadn’t made it around to where we were yet. The scenery was a construction site, rocky with a bit of water flowing through and a seemingly uncaring man wearing an Icelandic wool sweater operating a front end loader, still this had to be the spot. There were two guys on enduro bikes, who had come from the same place we wanted to head to and they assured us we were in the right spot but that the pool was having some maintenance done by a few local volunteers that pressure wash it once a year.

We made our decision to walk in and check it out regardless of construction, or not; after all those guys could be lying, trying to keep tourists like us away from their local swim spot, hope is a curious thing. As we turned to find the path in, an old Black Lab comes up to say hi, she is greying around the mouth and friendly as can be with quite a bit of slobber to go around. Immediately after introducing herself, she is on the trail beckoning us to follow and so we we’re off following our doggy guide to the oldest pool in Iceland.

Rocky black construction, gave way to rich vibrant green hillsides and cliffs surrounding the valley we were walking through and the trickle of water we had seen in the flat before the trail turned into a river. The morning was still and the air still cold, but this place was almost spiritual; calm and borderline solemn, justifying Icelandic folklore of fairies and trolls. Our four legged tour guide took us up and down hillsides, knowing every which way to get around obstacles and as we approached a medium sized creek crossing, noticed our struggle and brought us lower to an easier place to get across.

Growing closer, the ground emitting the scent of sulfur and steam that only comes from the geothermal, we rounded a corner to see the old pool; built into the hillside, some of the concrete crumbling but still there, and three men in oil gear pressure washing as we’d been told. The pool was empty and we both felt the pang of disappointment despite knowing this prior to our walk in. We took a photo or two, gave the guys a wave and with that followed our friend back to the car, over obstacles, creek crossings, and appreciating every bit of the sun now warming our cold faces and the glowing green hillside behind us.

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This post was featured in Volume 1: Issue 2 of Lay Off The Iodine’s Analog Companion.

All photos in this post taken on Canon AE-1 on 35mm film.

Still Waters: Paddling the Utica Reservoir

Trips, Weekends

Utica Reservoir – California Sierra Nevada

The morning is still with a small bit of haze and a quiet likened to Cape Cod summer mornings skipping across the harbor in our 14 ft whaler. “The water’s like glass,” I say, as we slip our paddles in and out and push our boats onward exploring rocky inlet after rocky inlet, “how about here?” We dart into a small escape from the larger part of the lake. Rounding a corner, our boats are suddenly in the midst of a lily pad forest, and we slide up onto the adjacent granite shore with ease. Once up and out, we find our spot, lay out our towels and bask in the Sierra summer morning sun. “It doesn’t get much better than this,” we exclaim before one or both of us leaps off the rock to break the stillness of the water.

– Click below for more photos –

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Summer Float: Eel River

Trips, Weekends

The Eel River holds our summer hearts. Each year the high wall and its deep pools and lone river beach draw us back for long, hot days of dozing and dipping and jumping and beer. The steep trek, loading down everything we can for our one night’s stay, all worth the mildly treacherous slipping and sliding so we can eat, drink and sleep. It’s summertime bliss on the river.

All photos taken with 35mm film on a Canon AE-1.

Easy Getaway: China Camp

Trips, Weekends

There’s a place just north of San Francisco that used to be home to a fishing village of over 500 Chinese immigrants. Before that it was a dairy ranch belonging to a wealthy Irish-American family. And long before that it was the home and hunting grounds of the Miwok people for hundreds of years. After most of the Chinese fishermen left, the land was saved from potential developers, and turned into a protected state park for us to enjoy.

These pieces of land transfer from one hand to the next, serving different purposes for each. Who uses it best? Who deserves it the most? Who should it belong to? Now it belongs to the State, and therefore to all of the people, more or less. Although you can’t use it to farm your cows, catch shrimp, or fully sustain your life anymore, you can use it to enjoy the outdoors, and to be thankful that one more stretch of the Bay’s coast so close to the ever expanding city was spared. Happy Earth Day!

All photos taken with 35mm film on a Canon AE-1.

Until the Dam Breaks: Hetch Hetchy to Tiltill Valley

Trips, Weekends

Hetch Hetchy Reservoir to Tiltill Valley

Out and Back – 18.6 Miles

Saturday – Hetch Hetchy to Tiltill Creek (in Tiltill Valley) – 9.3

Sunday – Back to Hetch Hetchy – 9.3

The mark is still there from the mid 90’s, the painted-over crack and words that an environmentalist artist repelled and painted in the middle of the night on the O’Shaughnessy Dam. The words echoed John Muir, “Free the Rivers.”

It’s hard not to agree; hydroelectric power is on its way out, and wild salmon populations have been decimated by the hatchery system. Restoration seems appropriate now, seems necessary now if we want wild salmon to have a fighting chance of survival or hope to see some of our most scenic rivers run free.

There are 75,000 dams in the US alone, a third of which are over 50 years old, and 14,000 of which are considered “high-hazard,” meaning their failure could result in the loss of human life. This isn’t just an environmental issue, it’s an issue of infrastructure in disrepair and public safety. It just happens to have an environmental facet as well.

Stepping down from our soap box, we can think on this from the point of view of the future; of what our children and our children’s children are able to experience and share with their friends and families. Of what they are able to gain knowledge and experience from, and what kind of people we give them the ability to become. There is a direct correlation between our decisions today and the outdoors and America’s natural lands tomorrow, it’s time for that to be recognized.

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All photos taken with 35mm film on a Canon AE-1.

A Walk through the Wildflowers: Merced River Trail

Trips, Weekends

Merced River Trail

Railroad Flat Camp to North Fork intersection – Out + Back – 5 miles

Spring engulfed the land surrounding the Merced River. Every step we took brought us to a new spread of flowers, tall grasses, and butterflies. Literally butterflies everywhere. As the warm sun cloaked our shoulders we felt lucky to be in such a place for two entire days. With not so far to go, the river and its creeks and its bursting flowers were ours for the taking. Walking, dipping, napping, collecting, eating, drinking, and singing. That’s all we needed.

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All photos taken with 35mm film on a Canon AE-1, except yellow poppy photo.

Tread Lightly: Walking the Lost Coast Trail

A Little Longer, Trips

Lost Coast Trail – Mattole River to Black Sands Beach

North to South – 24.6 miles

Day 1 – 8.3 miles – Mattole River to Randall Creek

Day 2 – 9.7 miles – Randall Creek to Shipman Creek

Day 3 – 6.6 miles – Shipman Creek to Black Sands Beach

Slowly. Step, wait, step; balance, step. Head down, eyes on your feet, step, look up to the hazy California coast dropping to the fury of the winter Pacific, step; the rock you’re on wobbles, slides, and down, propped up by a hand. Struggle. A push up with forty on your back, a knee that says no, an aching body that only wants a view; affirmation.

Sand. Soft dry sand, wet firm sand, granular sand, powdery sand, sand with rocks, sand with sticks, sand with seaweed. Step, sink, step. Slow going on this section, tide is returning and your race to escape it takes on new urgency. In a few hours violent waves mercilessly pummel rock into sand. Move along.

Blocked. Stuck, knee deep and rushing; gallons upon gallons screaming for escape. You gaze up and down the stream, hoping to see something different, a log, a series of rocks, nothing. Pack off, bend down, laces untie, boots off; step. Slowly, carefully, propped by a pole, still slipping; stub a toe, a curse. Other side, trail in front, boots on, laced up, forty on your back; step.

A bluff; bright green, well fed grass, a worn trail of firm dirt to coast along. Up and down, side to side, eyes ahead; take it in, and down. Rocks. A uniform groan and it begins. Slowly. Step, wait, step; balance, step. Head down, eyes on your feet, step.

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All photos taken with 35mm film on a Canon AE-1.

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