I visited the Grand Canyon for several days, admiring the views of the canyon itself and staying in the adjacent Kaibab National Forest. You may have read the recent article in the New York Times about the advantages of visiting the north rim instead of the south. The north is more difficult to get to and therefore less crowded. It’s about 1,000 feet higher than the south, so it is cooler. I think its prettier.
The Kaibab NF is beautiful, a real national treasure. The forest has many well-maintained service roads and tons of places for dispersed camping. Within a half hour’s drive of the national park, I could camp in perfect solitude, peace and quiet.
You can see for miles and miles from the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.
I thought this was a clever sign design. Cut the message out of steel and it remains clear, impervious to graffiti and vandalism.They have a nice lodge, appropriately rustic. It is surrounded by numerous cabins with varying degrees of comfort. There is also a restaurant, but I didn’t eat there. I doubt Michelin has heard of it.It can be chilly at this altitude all year round.Whoops! This tree threw itself across the road, apparently tired of the traffic. (Of which there is very little.)One of the many forest service roads, lined with brilliant green aspen trees.Xena, the Warrior Princess, rests after a long day of adventuring. She is actually a black cat, but insists on rolling around and cavorting in every pile of dirt she sees, hence the reddish tint.One of the remote camp sites I used. Pretty clever to conceal myself behind the trees, eh?
Driving east through the far-east of California, I made an amazing discovery! As you probably know, Hwy 168 skirts the northern boundary of Death Valley. What I doubt you realized as you passed by, however, is the existence of some of the oldest living things on the planet. I call them “bristlecone pines.”
This is one of many specimens of the bristlecone pines. They’ve lived in this dry, high-altitude locale for thousands of years.The pines have stunning views of a basin enclosed on all sides by mountains. What little rain falls here remains, with no route to the sea. Sad.These delicate flowers want only to bring beauty to a harsh and unforgiving world. Just like me.Here are the seed carriers of the bristlecone pine.
“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” According to Lao Tzu in the Tao Te Ching, anyway. My journey will be considerably more than a thousand miles and involves more sitting than stepping, but I guess the sentiment still applies. I left Oakland Sunday, May 15, if memory serves. It usually doesn’t, so if one of you know better, please let me know.
I didn’t drive far on the first day. Why should I? Travel without agenda or obligations is an exercise in freedom. 😇
I found a nice dispersed camp site in the Stanislaus National Forest. So you can place it on your mental map, it was just south of Long Barn and north of Mi-Wuk along Hwy 108. Nothing really special, but it was a couple of miles off pavement and, once the shooting stopped, very quiet.Not everything has burned…the Sierras remain beautiful.The engineers who designed Hwy 108 must have gone to the Salvador Dali Civil Engineering School. The road is just slung across the mountains, drooping and swooping. So much turning! First I would spin the steering wheel all the way to the left, then the right, only to turn it left again! Really inefficient.Wow! Looks like I picked a bad time for a road trip. Spoiler alert: Prices dropped $2/gallon as soon as I crossed into Nevada.My camp site near Bishop, CA. Xena, the Warrior Princess, liked exploring the rocks; she did not heed my warnings about scorpions. Luckily, she didn’t find any.
Stay tuned, next time more California and my exciting discovery!
Note: I found this draft post from a while back. I guess I forgot to press the publish button. I think I may also have forgotten to finish it.
A beautiful, twisty road leads to Carlsbad Caverns.
We found a dispersed camp site just 30 minutes from the park gate. It was a rough and rocky road to get there. Xena surveils the environment, keeping a steady watch.
The Caverns are 750 feet below the surface. Visitors can either hike down a switchback trail or take an elevator (the elevator is required for all on the return trip). The photos can’t convey the beauty and enormity of the caverns. You have to make the trip and see for yourself.
Archeologists from the University of Southern New Mexico have recently unearthed a well-preserved village near the the pueblo of Las Cruces. Dubbed “Mesilla” (pronounced meh SEE ya), this village displays the physical village arrangement typical of the first band of Spanish thieves. They established a sense of place by creating a town square called an “alameda,” after an island in San Francisco Bay.
Building papist churches was a high priority among the gang of Spanish thieves. Look closely and you will see the graven image of an unwed mother in front of the edifice. The motif of the Unwed Mother, along with other imaginary personages, was prominent among these thieves.
This is an early example of well-executed graffiti, typical of the early days of imperial conquest. Archeologists have determined that this sample is literally translated as “Window of Mesilla,” but no convincing explanation of its meaning to its contemporaries is proffered. It is worth noting that the juxtaposition of the varied type faces is deprecated in modern graffiti.
This signage indicates the location of a restaurant, which provides sustenance to locals and visitors alike. They accept US currency and some credit cards as forms of payment. The name is a mystery. “La Posta” means female letter carrier or female mail man. Despite the many hypotheses seeking to explain why anyone would name a restaurant after a category of postal worker, none have proven satisfactory.
A close reading of the historical record indicates that a misunderstood and culturally downtrodden person called “Billy the Kid” was accused of killing a few people. He was tried, convicted and sentenced to hang in this building. One wonders if Mr the Kid saw the irony of being tried in a building named for him! Legend says the judge declared him guilty and sentenced him to hang until “dead Dead DEAD!” To which Mr the Kid is said to have replied, “I’ll see you in hell Hell HELL.” At which point he ran away, to the consternation of the authorities. He escaped the noose, only to be shot and killed a few days later.
This is a gratuitous image of a black cat, Xena, the Warrior Princess; neither the image nor the cat was uncovered during the excavation of Mesilla.
I had to get a new military ID card, and White Sands Missile Range is the closest installation, so off I went. It’s a dry, dusty and very flat place with widely spaced buildings, most of which are surrounded by tall fences and razor wire. Apparently, the Army has difficulty keeping its soldiers where they belong. I wanted to take pictures of these brutalist buildings, but they threatened to shoot me if I did. The post bills itself as the “Birthplace of America’s Space Program.” I suppose it is, courtesy of Nazi Werner von Braun.
This is an example of an early American modification of the Nazi V-2 missile. They used them, unsuccessfully, to frighten Londoners into becoming Germans. Although the museum is covid closed, the missile park is open. They have dozens of missiles on display, some as small as your arm.
I’m spending a few days at Aguirre Springs Campground on the eastern slope of the Organ Mountains. The mountain peaks form a backdrop to the west and, to the east, the Tularosa Basin houses the missile range, White Sands National Monument and Holloman AFB. I avoid campgrounds when I can, but I admit that this one is pretty nice. The campsites are spread far enough away I can almost imagine that I’m alone. Xena loves climbing the trees and exploring the rock piles.
I think the designers of this campground and its environs were amateurs. The sculpting of the mountain peaks seem a little overwrought to me, with the slick rock faces and pointy peaks. Just doesn’t mimic nature very well. Moreover, the landscaping has no coherent design schema that I could discern. Just plants stuck in the ground willy-nilly Finally, the nature soundscape is far too loud (not to mention repetitive); they need to turn the bird sounds down.
The Organ Mountains, standing tall to keep Las Crucians out of the Tularosa Basin.
The plain containing White Sands Missile Range and White Sands (gypsum) National Monument.
Xena, the Warrior Princess, is an excellent tree climber. She was right on the heels of a Texas squirrel in San Antonio. Until she ran out of string.
A programming note: I’ll be back in Oakland the first week of April.
On the recommendation of friends, I examined the tiny village of Marfa, Texas. This plucky place houses artists specializing in psychedelics and makers of soap. It is a great place, and, if you’re ever miles from nowhere, stop in.
The real gem is a place to stay, but I don’t have a word for it, They call themselves El Cosmico. You can camp there in your own tent, sleep in your vehicle (like I did), or rent a yurt or tipi or vintage travel trailer. They have wood-fired hot tubs! And an interesting gift shop with Wi-Fi. I met a Canadian there who had a husky named Sitka. Sitka and Zena, the Warrior Princess cat, had a great time staring at each other.
If that weren’t enough, there is an architectural treasure known as the Hotel Paisano. Beautiful 1930s architecture, built around a central courtyard with a fountain, artisanal details everywhere. It was designed by the nearly-great architect Henry Trost. Go and stay for a long weekend. It won’t quite be worth the trip, but you’ll have a fine story to tell upon your return to civilization.
The Hotel Paisano. James Dean stayed here, along with whats-her-face and the other guy, for the filming of Giant. I filched the pic from their web site.
El Cosmico has vintage travel trailers with alluring eyes. I’m told the eyes keep watch while you sleep and ward off evil.
If you wish, you can stay in a tipi and reflect on the genocide that has resulted in our current society. They didn’t have to worry about climate change, because they didn’t destroy their environment for the profit of a few. LOL, what a bunch of tree hugging weirdos.
For some reason, Marfonians built an elaborate edifice to house their civil servants. Very pretty and imposing. By design.
I’ve discovered there is a thing called “Buc-Ee’s.” They are established on the roadside of major thoroughfares are serve the needs of the traveling public. Their mascot is a cast bronze beaver for some reason, as you can see below.
This beaver is suitably sized for selfie taking. Imagine the delight of being hugged by a bronze beaver!
These retail outlets are an amazing combination of a Target, deli, truck stop and grocery store.
A dizzying array of dry goods for sale at Buc-Ee’s.
A deli to suit all tastes, especially those inclined to beef brisket.
In case you’ve forgotten your smoker/grill or fire pit, you can pick one up at Buc-Ee’s.
But-Ee’s as the world’s largest array of ice machines ever assembled. Let no drink go uncooled!
In addition to ice machines, Buc-Ee’s is second to none in fuel pumps. This particular one can fuel 100 vehicle simultaneously. Many a European army would love to have logistics like this!
They claim to treat employees well. 401k matching and 3 weeks of vacation a year!
Made the long and tedious drive to Key West. If I were you, I’d skip the drive and fly or boat to the cute beach town.
We made it! As south as you can get in CONUS.
What a treasure we have in Everglades National Park! Spent the night in a very nice campground deep in the swamp. Had to make an emergency run to the camp store for bug spray—I stepped out of the van for one minute and was assaulted by clouds of bitey things. The bug spray worked like a charm, except for some particularly hungry biting flies. Its a good thing they stayed in an area far from the camp site.
Traversing this pass was the high point of my visit.
Beautiful and peaceful, isn’t it? As long as you stay in the car. This is where the unstoppable biting flies dwell.
North of the Everglades, I found a delightful Gulf Coast town: Venice. It was Saturday, so a farmer’s market had taken over the broad street leading to the beach. Clearly a moneyed town; there are many mansions lining the waterfront. The town was designed by the famous urban planner John Nolan and is an excellent example of the Garden City design movement of the 1920s and 30s.
This enormous banyan tree in Venice reminded me of the trees in Hawaii. Did you know they are a ficus?
These Floridians are a type of carnivorous iguana. They migrated here from the Galapagos, an unintended consequence of the Panama Canal. Many keep them as pets and train them to perform light housekeeping duties.
From the coast, I drove up through central Florida. It is very difficult to drive from the gulf coast to Gainesville without using I-75, but I mostly managed it. They raise a lot of cattle there, black, brown and dingy white ones that need laundering. I was surprised that Florida permitted the mixing of cow colors like that. The cows have a nice life, it seems, grazing in the sun or lounging under enormous oak trees dripping with Spanish moss.
Traffic and road conditions prevented me from getting a picture of cows, so you’ll have to use your imagination.
This BBQ joint looked sketchy enough to be legit, so I dined therein.
Ribs! Very nice…and enough for two meals!
Red beans and rice, along with “sausage” that looked a lot like hot dog. Still tasty, though.
Xena, the Warrior Princess, is having a great time. Here, she lounges in the dirt following an unsuccessful lizard hunt.
I have been savagely misled. Visited Cocoa Beach; it is ordinary sand! Doesn’t faintly resemble cocoa and makes a lousy hot beverage. Have not been so disappointed since visiting the Gold Coast. Geographers are a dishonest lot.
Cocoa Beach disappoints; just ordinary sand.
Otherwise, in all fairness, I must report that Florida is an awful place. It’s no wonder that the inhabitants thereof are so surly; I would be, too, if I were condemned to a life there. Did you know that it is possible to drive for 15, maybe 20 miles, down a road and see nothing but strip malls? I had no idea a place needed so many fast food chains, tattoo parlors, and knick-knack shops. There seems to be no end of Floridian appetites for such merchantilism. As an urban designer, I have to admit that it leaves me…depressed.
On the other hand, Florida has achieved an epic level of discourtesy and rudeness. I’m not talking about the customary insolence of what passes for wait staff in these parts. I hope you have never had to endure what I about to describe; the more sensitive may wish to resume watching cat videos. Entities, masquerading as people, pull into a gas station, occupy a pump, wander about the grounds, complete their Christmas shopping at the truck stop store, feast on government approved food products from the roller apparatus, take a nap, squabble with their spouse, all with complete indifference to the queue of people waiting to fill their tanks. An extraordinary display of callous disregard for others. As you might imagine, I’ve patronized many gas stations on my journey; these folk live exclusively in Florida.
I’m happy to report there is one redeeming quality to this (thankfully) vanishing part of America: song birds. The place is full of them, singing the songs of their people all day long. Bright red cardinals, pretty bluebirds flashing their colors, drab little brown birds…all of them singing their hearts out. Delightful.
