It is the last day of the year two thousand eleven.
And what a beautiful day it is!
As is often the case in Georgia, it doesn't really feel like Winter.
But a beautiful day is a beautiful day.
Anna and I took another wonderful hike yesterday at Kennesaw Mountain.
It started off quite chilly and foggy, but after our half-way point picnic, the sun came out and it began to warm up a bit.
I am so incredibly thankful for this past year and all the many blessings that have abounded throughout.
I believe twenty twelve will be another fantastic year.
I know Anna and I are both very excited for what this next year has in store.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Thursday, December 29, 2011
New Camera
We are almost to a brand new year, and that means we are only a few short months away from the thru-hike. It is a very exciting time, indeed.
Anna completely surprised me with a new video camera! I could not believe it. I think it's going to be a great asset to our video blogs and updates along the trail.
Check out our first test where Anna also tries to drown me...
Anna completely surprised me with a new video camera! I could not believe it. I think it's going to be a great asset to our video blogs and updates along the trail.
Check out our first test where Anna also tries to drown me...
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Training
Near the top of Kennesaw Mountain.
A beautiful day for a hike.
We are going to try to do this at least once a week leading up to our departure date.
Some good ol' fashioned conditioning.
[of course, we did stop at Chick-fil-a afterwards]
Only a couple months to go.
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| KitFox and ManCub |
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
Howls & Owls
Over the past two nights I have been fortunate enough to hear two distinct and contrasting sounds from the wilderness around me. The cries and calls of the coyote and owl are eerily beautiful.
The first time I heard a coyote (or rather a pack of coyotes, because I don't think you ever hear just one), I have to admit it was pretty scary. Camping with Anna at Brushy Lake State Park in Oklahoma trying to set up our tents and cook dinner in the darkness. Then out of nowhere comes the call of the wild... quite literally.
Cries and yelps and whoops and whines that sound more like a mixture of children and hyenas rather than canines.
Creepy at first.
But the more I listen to them, the more entranced I become. I never actually see them (though that would be neat), but I imagine them running the open fields and plains freely and fiercely. Perhaps they are chasing down rabbits and rodents, or maybe they're just having a bit of fun. But their sound draws me in.
I've stayed awake until I hear them no more, never really wanting them to stop. It's a strange noise to hear just before falling asleep, but I like it. I like the quick startle I receive and the pounding of my heart when I first notice them. It is a sound of wildness.
In addition to the coyotes over the past two nights, I have also heard a lonely owl performing his early morning monologue to wake me up. I think owls often are associated with scary forest sounds as well, but the peacefulness I felt when hearing its call has been refreshing and reassuring.
Both nights camping, first in Utah then in Texas, I went to sleep with the coyote's howl, followed early the next morning with the cry of the owl.
It is a most wonderful way to drift in and out of dreams.
The first time I heard a coyote (or rather a pack of coyotes, because I don't think you ever hear just one), I have to admit it was pretty scary. Camping with Anna at Brushy Lake State Park in Oklahoma trying to set up our tents and cook dinner in the darkness. Then out of nowhere comes the call of the wild... quite literally.
Cries and yelps and whoops and whines that sound more like a mixture of children and hyenas rather than canines.
Creepy at first.
But the more I listen to them, the more entranced I become. I never actually see them (though that would be neat), but I imagine them running the open fields and plains freely and fiercely. Perhaps they are chasing down rabbits and rodents, or maybe they're just having a bit of fun. But their sound draws me in.
I've stayed awake until I hear them no more, never really wanting them to stop. It's a strange noise to hear just before falling asleep, but I like it. I like the quick startle I receive and the pounding of my heart when I first notice them. It is a sound of wildness.
In addition to the coyotes over the past two nights, I have also heard a lonely owl performing his early morning monologue to wake me up. I think owls often are associated with scary forest sounds as well, but the peacefulness I felt when hearing its call has been refreshing and reassuring.
Both nights camping, first in Utah then in Texas, I went to sleep with the coyote's howl, followed early the next morning with the cry of the owl.
It is a most wonderful way to drift in and out of dreams.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
The Yearling
My dear friend Johnathan came to visit me this week at the park. I only have a few days left of my internship, and I'm so glad he was able to come out and enjoy some of the beauty with me.
We were hiking Devils Garden when we both experienced another one of Nature's remarkable moments.
Devils Garden, like the Windows, is definitely one of the busiest trails in the park. However, we found ourselves almost completely alone throughout our hike to Double O Arch and back. We were enjoying the views and the stillness, but at the same time I wanted us to get back before sunset.
I tried to quicken our pace slightly.
As we bounded up and down the red rock fins, joking and singing goofily, we suddenly were stopped dead in our tracks. A group of mule deer were grazing in the middle of the trail.
In the middle of the trail!
One of the most frequented sections of trail in the park.
There they were. A buck, two does and a yearling.
They put some distance between us, but we remained frozen and watched.
Barely breathing because of their proximity.
As we stood and watched them, the buck retreated to a higher vantage point and never took his eyes off of us, while the does, and especially the yearling, returned to their late afternoon meal.
Slowly but surely the yearling moved closer and closer to us, nibbling on some of the black brush and service berry branches. He chewed the leaves. Looked up at us. Moved closer. And found more branches to try.
All the while, the buck stared us down from a distance.
Johnathan and I sat down on the rock.
Still.
The yearling eventually crossed in front of us, only about fifteen feet away. It was nothing for him. He didn't care about these hikers, or perhaps he wasn't yet old enough to know about the dangers of man. He just chewed his food and walked past the awe-stricken onlookers.
The two does followed. A little more cautiously and a little further away.
Then the buck.
Hesitant at first, he approached our position very slowly. He stopped before fully committing, probably thinking to himself, "They do not know about man. I have lived long enough to become wise, and I know these men cannot be trusted." But because the rest of the family had already crossed, he could not let them go ahead unprotected.
Johnathan and I again held our breath as the large animal passed before us, swiftly and gracefully. We both knew we should probably avoid making direct eye contact with this dominant creature, but we could not resist. We both looked directly into his dark eyes.
Mesmerized.
His cautious run quickened to a thankful retreat as he ducked below some juniper branches avoiding entanglement with his large antlers.
He rejoined his family and hurried them along over the fins and out of sight.
Johnathan and I looked at each other and let out a sigh of relief and amazement.
We were astonished and thankful for such a sincere moment in Nature.
A moment of surprise as we came across the herd in the first place.
A moment of wonder as they didn't retreat out of sight.
A moment of innocence as the yearling crossed before us fearlessly.
And a moment of respect and admiration as the buck reluctantly trusted us enough to rejoin his small tribe.
Moments like this do not occur everyday.
* * * * *
On another note, the Fiery Furnace is a great place to reenact scenes from Lord of the Rings.
Enjoy.
We were hiking Devils Garden when we both experienced another one of Nature's remarkable moments.
Devils Garden, like the Windows, is definitely one of the busiest trails in the park. However, we found ourselves almost completely alone throughout our hike to Double O Arch and back. We were enjoying the views and the stillness, but at the same time I wanted us to get back before sunset.
I tried to quicken our pace slightly.
As we bounded up and down the red rock fins, joking and singing goofily, we suddenly were stopped dead in our tracks. A group of mule deer were grazing in the middle of the trail.
In the middle of the trail!
One of the most frequented sections of trail in the park.
There they were. A buck, two does and a yearling.
They put some distance between us, but we remained frozen and watched.
Barely breathing because of their proximity.
As we stood and watched them, the buck retreated to a higher vantage point and never took his eyes off of us, while the does, and especially the yearling, returned to their late afternoon meal.
Slowly but surely the yearling moved closer and closer to us, nibbling on some of the black brush and service berry branches. He chewed the leaves. Looked up at us. Moved closer. And found more branches to try.
All the while, the buck stared us down from a distance.
Johnathan and I sat down on the rock.
Still.
The yearling eventually crossed in front of us, only about fifteen feet away. It was nothing for him. He didn't care about these hikers, or perhaps he wasn't yet old enough to know about the dangers of man. He just chewed his food and walked past the awe-stricken onlookers.
The two does followed. A little more cautiously and a little further away.
Then the buck.
Hesitant at first, he approached our position very slowly. He stopped before fully committing, probably thinking to himself, "They do not know about man. I have lived long enough to become wise, and I know these men cannot be trusted." But because the rest of the family had already crossed, he could not let them go ahead unprotected.
Johnathan and I again held our breath as the large animal passed before us, swiftly and gracefully. We both knew we should probably avoid making direct eye contact with this dominant creature, but we could not resist. We both looked directly into his dark eyes.
Mesmerized.
His cautious run quickened to a thankful retreat as he ducked below some juniper branches avoiding entanglement with his large antlers.
He rejoined his family and hurried them along over the fins and out of sight.
Johnathan and I looked at each other and let out a sigh of relief and amazement.
We were astonished and thankful for such a sincere moment in Nature.
A moment of surprise as we came across the herd in the first place.
A moment of wonder as they didn't retreat out of sight.
A moment of innocence as the yearling crossed before us fearlessly.
And a moment of respect and admiration as the buck reluctantly trusted us enough to rejoin his small tribe.
Moments like this do not occur everyday.
* * * * *
On another note, the Fiery Furnace is a great place to reenact scenes from Lord of the Rings.
Enjoy.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Windows
Other than being there in the middle of the night, this was the only time I have ever seen the Windows parking lot completely empty.
Walking up and down the trails completely by myself in a place that is usually one of the busiest sections of the park was pretty remarkable.
Almost magical, in fact.
It really is a beautiful area, but I think a lot of the time it is loved too much. So many tourists stroll up to that North Window so they can get a photo of themselves underneath an arch, and then they're on their way again (most likely to Devils Garden or Delicate Arch).
But as I walked quietly by myself today, I noticed things I don't usually see when it's busy or when I'm leading a guided walk.
I began the primitive loop going behind the South and North Windows, and I stopped every couple minutes and strained my ears and eyes. During one of these stops, I suddenly found myself in the midst of a staring contest with a mule deer.
We both stood perfectly still.
Then it lowered its head and began to drink from one of the pot holes.
I took a few steps to try and change my vantage point, and at that moment a buck with large antlers came bounding up from out of sight. With his signal, four more deer appeared seemingly out of nowhere and the herd was bounding off together over the ridge and out of sight.
Even on a day when I was the only other hiker on the trail, I would have missed them entirely had I not stopped every so often and looked around.
I think we often go outside and go hiking and go biking and go running and can even be extremely active outdoors, but sometimes we forget to just go and be still.
“Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”
~ Pslam 46:10 ~
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
First Snow
I woke up this morning to snow on the ground.
Most of it melted away shortly after some direct sunlight, but a lot of it remains in the shade of the cliffs.
When I first arrived to Arches in 100° weather, I definitely did not expect to see snow during my time here.
It's been interesting to experience the seasonal change in this region.
Beautiful all around.
Most of it melted away shortly after some direct sunlight, but a lot of it remains in the shade of the cliffs.
When I first arrived to Arches in 100° weather, I definitely did not expect to see snow during my time here.
It's been interesting to experience the seasonal change in this region.
Beautiful all around.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Not Lonely, but Alone
Ventured down to the Needles section of Canyonlands National Park.
It's a beautiful place.
More remote and less people than its neighbors (Arches and Island in the Sky).
I was there for the day and wanted a decent hike.
I set out for the Chestler Park / Joint Loop trail - 11 miles.
I started off in the rain.
Cold rain.
Both of which are rare for the desert, but I was looking forward to being in the elements a bit.
I feel something different when hiking in the rain.
The word effective comes to mind... like I'm really getting to my destination.
Working for it.
Honestly, I think I just like the sound of mud squishing beneath my feet.
A few miles in I saw a sign for Druid Arch.
Not part of my original plan, but I decided to go for it.
The trail meanders through Elephant Canyon, and being that it was constantly raining, I was basically walking up a stream.
The trail would often lead right into a pool of collected water or up a waterfall.
This was true practice for the AT and a test for whether or not my gear could withstand some serious wetness.
It was a wonderful hike.
Cold.
Wet.
But wonderful.
I finally made it through the canyon and began ascending to Druid Arch.
I was out of breath by the time I had finished scrambling up, but wow!
What a view.
Druid Arch is one of those arches that you don't actually see until it's right in front of you.
The arch itself is tall, but it also stands about 300 feet off the ground.
I found myself looking up at a magnificent arch, an easy rival for any other arch I've seen.
There was still a light drizzle (it never really stopped raining on me the entire day, other than for about 15 minutes at one point), and I could distinctly hear the sound of each raindrop colliding with the rock.
It was so quiet.
Not another sound could be heard.
I had to hold my breath just to hear the wind blowing.
I felt truly alone in this place.
Not lonely, but alone.
I had passed only one other hiker in a six mile stretch, and now, standing before this massive arch, it seemed like I was the only living soul in the wilderness.
I bit into my apple and nearly startled myself with the loudness of the juicy crunch.
It was a beautiful peacefulness, and eventually the light pit-pat of the scattered raindrops began to intensify.
It was time to head back before any serious flash floods started to form.
Total hiking distance ended up being about 13 miles.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Arches TrailLapse
There have been a couple of videos featuring the Appalachian Trail edited together in a time lapse fashion. I found these fascinating and was inspired to create one for Arches National Park.
I took over 4,700 photos while hiking the majority of the trails over a couple of days.
This is the result.
Arches National Park in six minutes.
I took over 4,700 photos while hiking the majority of the trails over a couple of days.
This is the result.
Arches National Park in six minutes.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
The First Day
Genesis Chapter 1
1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 2 Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
3 And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. 4 God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.
1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 2 Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
3 And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. 4 God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
More Defenders
The NPS created this video to show at visitor centers around the country.
It could be the most inspiring three minute video you see in a while.
America's Wilderness
"Wilderness. The word itself is music."
Edward Abbey
It could be the most inspiring three minute video you see in a while.
America's Wilderness
"Wilderness. The word itself is music."
Edward Abbey
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Full Moon Forest
The sun sets over the Grand Mesa National Forest.
Blazing fire clouds of bright orange and red.
The snow capped mountains in silhouette.
I climb into my tent and immediately slip deep into the sleeping bag.
The air is cold and biting my skin.
I can see a few lone stars through the cloudy sky.
The full moon is rising.
When it appears over the horizon, it is like the sun.
Bright and shining.
Lighting up the entire forest surrounding me.
It's a beautiful sight, and I'm thankful the clouds don't open up and pour out their snow, sleet or rain.
Life in the forest is quiet and still.
Just the wind blows, bringing the leaves of the trees to life with each gust.
The sound of flowing water murmurs in the distance.
A mountain stream thriving on melted snow from far above.
I close my eyes and hibernate until morning.
Blazing fire clouds of bright orange and red.
The snow capped mountains in silhouette.
I climb into my tent and immediately slip deep into the sleeping bag.
The air is cold and biting my skin.
I can see a few lone stars through the cloudy sky.
The full moon is rising.
When it appears over the horizon, it is like the sun.
Bright and shining.
Lighting up the entire forest surrounding me.
It's a beautiful sight, and I'm thankful the clouds don't open up and pour out their snow, sleet or rain.
Life in the forest is quiet and still.
Just the wind blows, bringing the leaves of the trees to life with each gust.
The sound of flowing water murmurs in the distance.
A mountain stream thriving on melted snow from far above.
I close my eyes and hibernate until morning.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Campgrounds & Isolophobia
Sometimes camping with cows is more enjoyable than camping with people.
I decided to stay close to Moab for this "weekend" (my weekly two days off). There are several campgrounds along highway 128 that parallel the Colorado River. I found a site in the early afternoon and pitched my tent. I chose the site because it was relatively remote - hidden in a cluster of trees blocking the neighboring campsites.
I happily left my tent and set off for my afternoon hike through Negro Bill Canyon.
Upon returning, I saw cars parked in the neighboring campsites and people setting up. Of course this was fine, and it was something I was expecting. I sauntered down to my site ready to eat my maple donut for dessert, when I suddenly notice in horror that a large mammoth-sized house tent has been constructed only twenty feet away from my tent!
Is this real life?!
These people constructed their "tent" (if you can even call it that) right on the border of my site and theirs.
It would have not been such a big deal had they been quiet, nature-loving folks who set out to experience the silence and solitude of the great outdoors. But no, they are loud and obnoxious with a yapping dog and apparently are too scared to camp in their own space, so they huddle in as close as physically possible for their behemoth tent to fit where another human is already camped.
Again, it would have been fine had they respected their other campers, but throughout the night and into the early morning hours there was shouting, cackling, grunting, barking and who knows what else.
Fortunately there was a storm throughout the night, and the strong winds blocked most of it out. I was nice and cozy inside my solo tent, daydreaming about their wind-sail-of-a-tent being blown away causing them to float away down the river on their air mattress.
I decided that camping with cows isn't such a bad thing, after all.
I decided to stay close to Moab for this "weekend" (my weekly two days off). There are several campgrounds along highway 128 that parallel the Colorado River. I found a site in the early afternoon and pitched my tent. I chose the site because it was relatively remote - hidden in a cluster of trees blocking the neighboring campsites.
I happily left my tent and set off for my afternoon hike through Negro Bill Canyon.
Upon returning, I saw cars parked in the neighboring campsites and people setting up. Of course this was fine, and it was something I was expecting. I sauntered down to my site ready to eat my maple donut for dessert, when I suddenly notice in horror that a large mammoth-sized house tent has been constructed only twenty feet away from my tent!
Is this real life?!
These people constructed their "tent" (if you can even call it that) right on the border of my site and theirs.
It would have not been such a big deal had they been quiet, nature-loving folks who set out to experience the silence and solitude of the great outdoors. But no, they are loud and obnoxious with a yapping dog and apparently are too scared to camp in their own space, so they huddle in as close as physically possible for their behemoth tent to fit where another human is already camped.
Again, it would have been fine had they respected their other campers, but throughout the night and into the early morning hours there was shouting, cackling, grunting, barking and who knows what else.
Fortunately there was a storm throughout the night, and the strong winds blocked most of it out. I was nice and cozy inside my solo tent, daydreaming about their wind-sail-of-a-tent being blown away causing them to float away down the river on their air mattress.
I decided that camping with cows isn't such a bad thing, after all.
 |
| Their campsite... plenty of space, no tent. |
 |
| My campsite... my tent on the left, theirs trying to sneak in. |
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
ThunderAwakening
 |
| Photo by Anna Tucker |
Woke up this morning to a thundering rainstorm.
I love that. Especially on days off.
I'm not sure what I'll be doing for these days off.
I think I may camp somewhere nearby, just so I can sleep outside in another potential downpour. It's refreshing to be outside during a rainstorm.
I'm reading a book right now called Three Hundred Zeroes: Lessons of the Heart on the Appalachian Trail. It's another refreshing read that's getting me excited for our thru hike in a couple months. Every day I think about it and am looking forward to probably the most challenging hike of my life.
Walking from Georgia to Maine.
I can hardly wait to begin that adventure.
A few months ago I posted this video someone had made of their thru hike. It's one of the best I've seen, and I challenge you to try and stop watching it once you press play.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Sound the Shofar
It's a new year, and a new beginning.
What does 5772 have in store for us?
Climbing Mount Peale was definitely one of the most strenuous hikes I've ever taken.
Climbing straight up about two thousand feet on loose rocks.
Not an easy stroll in the park.
But four hours later (and two very sore legs) I made it to the 12,721 ft summit.
It was Erev Rosh Hashanah.
May you all have a sweet new year filled with adventure and the wonder of God's Creation.
What does 5772 have in store for us?
Climbing Mount Peale was definitely one of the most strenuous hikes I've ever taken.
Climbing straight up about two thousand feet on loose rocks.
Not an easy stroll in the park.
But four hours later (and two very sore legs) I made it to the 12,721 ft summit.
It was Erev Rosh Hashanah.
May you all have a sweet new year filled with adventure and the wonder of God's Creation.
 |
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
A Patch Of Autumn
A journey into the higher regions shows that Autumn is on its way. The aspen leaves are beginning to change from green to bright yellow, and other trees are boasting their oranges and reds. It is a welcoming sign that excites me.
It can still be hot here in the desert, but our average highs are getting cooler, and soon Autumn will reach us in the desert, as well.
This season especially reminds me of home: the crunchy leaves, morning frosts, cozy fires and hot coffee. It will be interesting to see the transition of Summer to Autumn in the desert and compare that to the familiar Georgia Autumns I know and love.
Here's to crunchy leaves and cacti colliding.
It can still be hot here in the desert, but our average highs are getting cooler, and soon Autumn will reach us in the desert, as well.
This season especially reminds me of home: the crunchy leaves, morning frosts, cozy fires and hot coffee. It will be interesting to see the transition of Summer to Autumn in the desert and compare that to the familiar Georgia Autumns I know and love.
Here's to crunchy leaves and cacti colliding.
 |
| A patch of Autumn |
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
"The Mountains Are Calling"
"...and I must go."
-John Muir
The desert is beginning to cool down a little. Instead of highs in the upper 90s and 100s, it's been in the mid 80s. A nice change, actually.
But I still crave the mountains.
The cool, refreshing mountain air. Lush greenery. Cold mountain streams. Aspen trees! This is what I especially enjoy.
I decided to check out Grand Mesa National Forest, about a three hour drive from Moab into Colorado (recommended by Miss Anna Tucker).
I hiked the 10.3 mile Crag Crest trail along the summit of the mountain forest. About five hours and breathtaking at every turn. The aspen leaves are beginning to turn from green to bright yellow for Fall, and the clear mountain lakes reflect a bright blue mirror image of the surrounding trees.
The desert is great and glorious in its own right, but the mountains are bliss.
Note: I also had the added bonus of editing this video in a Chick-fil-a in Grand Junction. However, I must have been so enthralled with my Georgia lunch that I forgot to add a quotation mark in the end of my video. A small, yet disturbing grammatical mistake that is not worth correcting. Many apologies to my grammar OCD friends (and sister).
-John Muir
The desert is beginning to cool down a little. Instead of highs in the upper 90s and 100s, it's been in the mid 80s. A nice change, actually.
But I still crave the mountains.
The cool, refreshing mountain air. Lush greenery. Cold mountain streams. Aspen trees! This is what I especially enjoy.
I decided to check out Grand Mesa National Forest, about a three hour drive from Moab into Colorado (recommended by Miss Anna Tucker).
I hiked the 10.3 mile Crag Crest trail along the summit of the mountain forest. About five hours and breathtaking at every turn. The aspen leaves are beginning to turn from green to bright yellow for Fall, and the clear mountain lakes reflect a bright blue mirror image of the surrounding trees.
The desert is great and glorious in its own right, but the mountains are bliss.
Note: I also had the added bonus of editing this video in a Chick-fil-a in Grand Junction. However, I must have been so enthralled with my Georgia lunch that I forgot to add a quotation mark in the end of my video. A small, yet disturbing grammatical mistake that is not worth correcting. Many apologies to my grammar OCD friends (and sister).
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Mighty Mice part II
The battle rages on.
Mostly a game of hide-and-seek.
The enemy employed a strategy of cuteness early on, however that has quickly subsided.
As I am submitting this report, a captive mouse is trying to escape his bathroom barricade. I discovered him as I made a necessary (and risky) trip to the bathroom, sleeping next to the toilet. The door is sealed shut, but who knows how much longer the stronghold will last?
Daylight enabled us to assemble an arsenal and lay our defenses. Roughly 12 traps were set, though night is upon us, and the darkest hour is still to come.
These nocturnal savages show no mercy.
And until dawn, mercy is all we can ask for.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Loud Silence
No BearCows to join me last night. They were out there, but not sleeping on top of me like they were last time. It was a very restful night for me, actually.
After a thunderstorm had passed, complete with plenty of rain and hail, I was able to build a fire from some damp wood and a candle. The sun set quickly, and as I settled into my warm tent I listened to my fire fall asleep with soft crackles.
Eventually, silence.
I fell asleep quickly and only woke up a few times during the night. When you're surrounded by such a deep silence, the slightest sound amplifies tenfold.
The creaking of a tree was the only sound to stir me out of slumber. A brief pause in my sleep, not a disturbance. The tree and the wind finished their duet and silence began to play again.
Loud silence until morning.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
LaSal Again
Camping in the La Sal Mountains again. This time at Geyser Pass.
Cool air.
Rain.
Thunder.
Lightning.
And hail.
Beautiful.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
The BearCow
Watch the video introduction before further reading...
[and crank up that volume]
This was actually my first time camping solo, and I'm so glad it finally happened. The La Sal Mountains are beautiful and provide a refreshing place to escape from the hot desert down below. But here's the lesson I learned on this solo trip:
Trust, and do not panic.
As you may have noticed in the video, I was accompanied by some sort of large animal throughout the night. For the first six hours of darkness I was kept awake by approaching sounds: branches snapping, heavy breathing, snorts, growls, rumbles, sneezes, footsteps and some other noises I can't even classify.
Earlier I had heard the cow. A large bull, to be more specific. I had never heard an animal, let alone a cow, make that sort of sound before. Very weird. Somewhat terrifying.
I knew it was the bull in the beginning. I saw him approaching and he was making typical bull moans and groans. I was just a little paranoid that he would get startled and maybe trample my little tent with me inside. I kept yelling and blowing my whistle (feeling like a lame little boy) to scare him off. Eventually (and by eventually, I mean several hours later) he sauntered off and I slept for about an hour.
Then I heard it.
The distinct sound I often work so hard to imitate in order to scare my friends.
Bear.
I sat up in my sleeping bag and strained my ears. Maybe it was just the lonely bull again, coming back for a midnight story from the boyscout he met earlier. I kept listening.
No moaning. No groaning. Just heavy breathing with a few snorts mixed in.
BEAR.
I began yelling. "GET OUTTA HERE! GO!" *whistle blow* "GO AWAY BEARRGH!"
My voice began to waiver, because this guy wasn't leaving.
I begin to pray (Why don't we do this at first? I'm often guilty of waiting until a desperate moment to call upon my Creator). I pray for the thing to go away. To leave me alone. Lord, give me peace. Keep me safe.
The heavy breathing continues, and it sounds closer than before. I can't see him but it sounds like he's moving towards the car.
Where the food is.
"GET OUT OF HERE BEAR!!"
I set off the panic alarm to my car.
Panic.
What am I doing? I can't even see what it is. I haven't even looked. I'm basically hiding in my tent, unwilling to see what is really out there.
My shaky hand grabs my light and begins to unzip my shelter. I peer out into the dark night and see nothing.
Nothing but stars. The sky is full of them. More stars than I have ever seen in my life.
Two stars are staring at me from the bushes.
Twinkling. Blinking. The head turns and lets out a long, deep sigh.
The bull.
Asleep in the bushes. Snoring. The poor guy is just trying to sleep, while I'm honking my horn, blowing my whistle and yelling for my life.
Relief pours over me, and I realize my lesson for the day.
Trust.
Why did I abandon the idea of my prayers being answered? I prayed for peace and for protection.
A snoring cow. Hm, looks pretty peaceful to me.
I feel like an idiot (and still do, kinda), but that doesn't matter because I look up at the sky again.
The most awesome sky I have ever seen.
Thank you, Lord. And thank you, BearCow for helping me learn that lesson.
You don't need to push that panic button.
[and crank up that volume]
This was actually my first time camping solo, and I'm so glad it finally happened. The La Sal Mountains are beautiful and provide a refreshing place to escape from the hot desert down below. But here's the lesson I learned on this solo trip:
Trust, and do not panic.
As you may have noticed in the video, I was accompanied by some sort of large animal throughout the night. For the first six hours of darkness I was kept awake by approaching sounds: branches snapping, heavy breathing, snorts, growls, rumbles, sneezes, footsteps and some other noises I can't even classify.
Earlier I had heard the cow. A large bull, to be more specific. I had never heard an animal, let alone a cow, make that sort of sound before. Very weird. Somewhat terrifying.
I knew it was the bull in the beginning. I saw him approaching and he was making typical bull moans and groans. I was just a little paranoid that he would get startled and maybe trample my little tent with me inside. I kept yelling and blowing my whistle (feeling like a lame little boy) to scare him off. Eventually (and by eventually, I mean several hours later) he sauntered off and I slept for about an hour.
Then I heard it.
The distinct sound I often work so hard to imitate in order to scare my friends.
Bear.
I sat up in my sleeping bag and strained my ears. Maybe it was just the lonely bull again, coming back for a midnight story from the boyscout he met earlier. I kept listening.
No moaning. No groaning. Just heavy breathing with a few snorts mixed in.
BEAR.
I began yelling. "GET OUTTA HERE! GO!" *whistle blow* "GO AWAY BEARRGH!"
My voice began to waiver, because this guy wasn't leaving.
I begin to pray (Why don't we do this at first? I'm often guilty of waiting until a desperate moment to call upon my Creator). I pray for the thing to go away. To leave me alone. Lord, give me peace. Keep me safe.
The heavy breathing continues, and it sounds closer than before. I can't see him but it sounds like he's moving towards the car.
Where the food is.
"GET OUT OF HERE BEAR!!"
I set off the panic alarm to my car.
Panic.
What am I doing? I can't even see what it is. I haven't even looked. I'm basically hiding in my tent, unwilling to see what is really out there.
My shaky hand grabs my light and begins to unzip my shelter. I peer out into the dark night and see nothing.
Nothing but stars. The sky is full of them. More stars than I have ever seen in my life.
Two stars are staring at me from the bushes.
Twinkling. Blinking. The head turns and lets out a long, deep sigh.
The bull.
Asleep in the bushes. Snoring. The poor guy is just trying to sleep, while I'm honking my horn, blowing my whistle and yelling for my life.
Relief pours over me, and I realize my lesson for the day.
Trust.
Why did I abandon the idea of my prayers being answered? I prayed for peace and for protection.
A snoring cow. Hm, looks pretty peaceful to me.
I feel like an idiot (and still do, kinda), but that doesn't matter because I look up at the sky again.
The most awesome sky I have ever seen.
Thank you, Lord. And thank you, BearCow for helping me learn that lesson.
You don't need to push that panic button.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Psalm 19:1-4
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voicet goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.
In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun."
Friday, August 19, 2011
Of Mice Chipmunks and Men
The Hopi Chipmunk.
These little guys are everywhere; this particular one was found at Partition Arch. He approached us as we were taking a break in the cool shade. He, no doubt, could recognize the sight of hikers pulling out lunch sacks and sandwiches, as he quickly began to move in closer and closer to where we were sitting for our lunch break. At one point, I literally could have reached out and handed him a piece of granola bar. Tempting, but illegal.
This is a common regulation posted in National Parks. The animals need to be able to feed themselves, otherwise they will become dependent upon humans for handouts and could harm their natural way of life (or in the case of bears and other large animals, could present danger to humans).
After realizing that the intern drive-thru was closed, the little Hopi chipmunk scampered over to some European tourists and started looking as cute as ever. Sure enough, the family dug out some Funyuns and began holding little pieces out in the palm of their hand. Drive-thru now open, would you like fries with that?
Not being on duty or in uniform, we couldn't exactly tell them to stop, but we could still voice our concern as fellow lovers of the park. We donned our packs and gently walked over to the feeding session, harmlessly scaring off the chipmunk, and with smiles on our faces said, "Hey, that doesn't look like chipmunk food!"
They managed a brief chuckle, and as soon as we passed by, the Funyun hand stretched out once again.
I wished them luck, knowing that we also have bears and mountain lions in the area.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Survival
It's hot.
I don't know if it's actually the heat or just the constant and direct sunlight that's making me as lethargic as I am. The eight hour geology lesson may have also had something to do with it.
I'm drinking lots of water (you kinda have to in the desert) and eating lots of granola bars (thank you, Chris Benson).
So far, the desert is more appealing to me in early morning and late afternoon/evening. But no matter what time of day I'm out, I'm constantly being reminded of how so many plants and animals are able to survive in this harsh environment.
For example, the Utah Juniper tree can live for hundreds of years in the desert. Hundreds of years! It will make use of the water it receives by shooting its roots deep into the cracks of rocks and crevices, collecting water that sometimes gets trapped long after rainfall. When that isn't enough, the tree will decide to "cut off" one of its limbs by restricting water flow to that limb. That branch's water valve is closed off, but the tree as a whole continues living.
It's like if you decided to cut off your arm so that you could survive. The Aron Ralston tree.
Survival.
Looking out from Grand View Point in Canyonlands National Park.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Exploring Devil's Garden
Went hiking yesterday through an area of the park called Devil's Garden, passing several different arches including Landscape and Double O Arch. Hiking at sunset is definitely the way to go right now. Cool and absolutely beautiful. Both my hikes the past two nights have resulted in me walking a couple miles back in the dark, with only the moon and my occasional headlamp to guide me. I love it.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Arrival at Arches
I'm currently waiting for the sun to set, and from where I sit I can see several other arches off in the distance. There's also some tourist posing beneath the arch pretending to meditate. It's come to my attention that nobody is even photographing him (and yet, everybody is whether they like it or not).
I'll try to post another photo at sunset (with or without tourist Ghandi).
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Almost to Arches
Tomorrow I will be arriving in Moab where I will begin getting situated at Arches National Park. Excitement and slight nervousness are running through my body - but mostly excitement. My brother and I left Georgia on Sunday morning and it's been a fun-filled and breathtaking couple of days traveling across our country.
We camped in Missouri on our first night and spent the next two nights in Colorado, where we were able to take in some sights exploring and hiking a bit.
Missouri was humid, and the nighttime noises of cicadas and other insects were almost deafening. I found it quite fascinating and was fortunate enough to fall right to sleep after I heard enough. I don't think Ben was as accepting of the ruckus.
Once we entered Colorado it began to get cooler, especially when the sun set. We intended to stargaze a little after the bright moon traveled its way across the sky, but once in our sleeping bags it was unthinkable to force ourselves out into the cold night wind (that is, for two Georgia boys under dressed in shorts and sandals). After giving in to a warm and comfortable sleep, I was fortunate enough to wake up during the middle of the night and briefly glanced up at the sky through the mesh roof of our tent; and there, during that brief moment, a bright meteor flashed across the dark sky.
I audibly said, "Whoa," then closed my eyes and fell back to sleep.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Oh, Oregon!
While on our trip to Oregon, I documented some of our daily excursions using my iPhone and an app called, 8mm. After editing and throwing in some music by Mumford & Sons ("The Cave"), you might see why I have fallen in love with this part of our country over the years.
And this video is just a taste. There is so much I did not capture with the lens of my camera, and there's even more I have yet to explore at all.
There is always more to explore.
And this video is just a taste. There is so much I did not capture with the lens of my camera, and there's even more I have yet to explore at all.
There is always more to explore.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Rejuvenation in The Beaver State
I am convinced that we breathe easier in Oregon.
Walking through lush forests and along mighty rivers, standing on the shore of the Pacific Ocean and even crossing over open farm land - I felt rejuvenated with each step. It's difficult to leave such an environment once you're given a taste of it. I think everyone should experience this part of our country at some point in their life - sooner rather than later.
One of my highlights from the trip was when my family and I hiked the Fort To Sea Trail. We had beautiful weather (though I honestly think any Oregonian weather is perfect - rain or shine), and I think part of the reason it was so memorable is because of the variety of terrain we encountered. The trail runs about 6.5 miles from Fort Clatsop to Sunset Beach, passing through forests, pastures, rivers and sand dunes. It was pretty neat to imagine ourselves as Lewis and Clark seeing the Pacific for the first time after such a long and difficult journey. Can you imagine the emotions they must have been experiencing?
The entire trip was an adventure, and even though it's nearly 100° here in humid Atlanta, my soul feels more alive and refreshed than before.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Beginning
Today I was hired as a Park Guide Interpretation intern for Arches National Park in Moab, Utah. I will begin my three month program in August and be on my way to becoming a park ranger. This has been a dream of mine for about two years now, since I graduated college and reacquainted myself with Nature and my love for the outdoors. It's exciting to see things beginning to fall into place.
I think it started with the Ken Burn's documentary I saw back in 2009. It inspired me to really get outside again and explore our country's backyard. My girlfriend, Anna, and I set a goal to visit one National or State Park every month as a way to explore these places together. From Kennesaw Mountain to Gettysburg, from Cloudland Canyon to the Grand Canyon; each new place brought with it a growing passion to become involved with the preservation of our public lands. The mountains, the woods, the canyons, the rivers, the deserts, the battlefields, the historic sites and monuments - they're all within reach for us to enjoy and reconnect with. I want to be a part of helping others to experience this.
I may not have any deep insight into the meaning of life, but I want to share with you my passion for Nature and my journey along the way. Let's take a walk outside.
I think it started with the Ken Burn's documentary I saw back in 2009. It inspired me to really get outside again and explore our country's backyard. My girlfriend, Anna, and I set a goal to visit one National or State Park every month as a way to explore these places together. From Kennesaw Mountain to Gettysburg, from Cloudland Canyon to the Grand Canyon; each new place brought with it a growing passion to become involved with the preservation of our public lands. The mountains, the woods, the canyons, the rivers, the deserts, the battlefields, the historic sites and monuments - they're all within reach for us to enjoy and reconnect with. I want to be a part of helping others to experience this.
I may not have any deep insight into the meaning of life, but I want to share with you my passion for Nature and my journey along the way. Let's take a walk outside.
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