On the other hand...

Okay, so I've got why solo is good. Now here's my yays and nays about with someone else.

Pros:
-Extra Input. There is a slim possibility that I could overlook something, or not think of something that might be cool to do.
-Extra driver (hopefully). This would make the trip out and back a whole lot quicker, leaving pretty much two extra days to do stuff.
-Keeping me in check. As briefly mentioned earlier, having someone else along makes me factor safety issues in to a much greater degree.
-Cheaper (?). Splitting gas on this trip would have saved me albout $200. Note- this only saves me money if my travel companion(s) won't need to sleep in a hotel. Or, if there's a few, as long as we don't spend many nights in hotels.
-The biggest pro by far is having someone to share the experience and the memories with. It's great to be able to think back on all the sweet stuff I did/got into, but it's even better when you can do it with someone else who was there.

Cons:
-It ain't easy for people to put up with me, and vice versa.
-Junk in the trunk. As it was, space was limited in my car. Granted, I could have packed significantly more efficiently, but it's nice being able to chuck whatever you think you might want in the trunk and go. In addition, if you sleep in the car it's a lot harder to do with other people.
-Music selection could be a point of contention.
-Planning. If there are gonna be other people, I might actually have to plan the trip, unlike this last one. This also means waiting for everyone else to get their crap together and figure out when they could go.

Final verdict? It depends. If I go on a easy trip (like this last one), other people would be awesome. If I'm going to do a hardcore trip (15 mile hiking days, multiple consecutive nights, etc.), I'll go solo- supposing I don't suddenly come across someone who's into real camping.

Thoughts: A.K.A Brain Hassles

As one might expect, when you drive 5300 miles in a week and a half, you end up having a lot of time to yourself to think. Now, the sad part was that on the way out I was so out of practice at introspection that I really didn't do much of it. I tried to distract myself with the radio instead. Luckily, on the way back I was much more mentally active.

One of the big topics of mental digestion was the issue of "solo trip" versus "group trip." Now, on this trip I wasn't given a choice- the flakes, I mean friends, who were gonna go with me backed out. My choices were to fly solo or to take the week and a half off of work and throw myself into some sort of solo bachannalia, the likes of which would forever stain my soul. Redwoods sounded better.

But really, which would I prefer? Let's break down the pros and cons of each:

Solo Pros:
-I decide everything. If I want to do something, I do it, and don't have to worry about compromising on anything.
-I go at my own pace. If I'm getting killed on trail, I can rest as much (or little) as I want. Also, if I feel like driving for fourteen hours, I can. I can go 400 miles without having to pee, and that makes the drive faster.
-I only need be concerned with my own safety. This means I can driving "exciting" and not worry about going deaf from screaming passengers, or having to clean a seat where someone wet themselves.
-I get time to be introspective without seeming anti-social.
-I can really, for lack of a better term, commune with the land as I'm hiking.
-I don't have to be "courteous." Now, I'm not gonna go into details, but if you know me you can probably figure out that my car needed a good airing out at the end of the trip.
-I can pack whatever the heck I want. Considering how I ended up packing , this wouldn't have left much room for anyone else.

Solo Cons:
-Slightly to greatly more expensive, depending on what my other traveler(s) wanted. Splitting gas would have saved me about $150-$200. Granted, I saved a lot of that not ever sleeping in a hotel. Considering that would get split up anyway, it's still cheaper with another person or two.
-The drive from Iowa to the Rocky Mountains is extremely boring. Someone to chat with/bug the hell out of.
-I take short cuts and follow a somewhat impetuos nature. This, long story short, means that I'm not as safe I would be if another person's safety was at issue. I made it out okay, but ya never know.

I'll have to get to the other half tomorrow...

Homeward Bound

Leaving Moab, I figure that after having hiked from sun-up to sun-down I should at least try to make it into Colorado before stopping for the night. After all, it's still a two day drive from Utah to Minnesota, and I wanted to be able to get a decent night's sleep before being to work at 4:30 am on Monday.

The drive is pretty uneventful through the rest of Utah and the first part of Colorado. The most intersting part is how military the town names sound (Rifle, Parachute, Battlesomethingorother, etc.). I'm part way through the mountains when I see the first clouds coming over the moon. I'd heard on the radio that more snow was expected, and I really hoped that I could make it through the Rockies before it hit. I don't.

The first snow starts just past Glenwood Springs. By the time I reach Vail Pass commercial vehicles are lined up for miles along the shoulder putting on snow chains. I'm already further than I'd planned to go (thought I'd be bushed around Grand Junction), but I do not want to get stuck up here in a snow storm. I'm driving close to the speed limit. As the storm gets worse, this means that I'm going progressively faster and faster than everyone else. By the time I get to the next pass (Loderman Pass or some such), there's a couple of inches on the ground, and driving is getting interesting- though nowhere near as bad as Nebraska/Wyoming had been. Coming down the mountains into Denver I'm dodging out of the teeth of the storm, and I'm into the clear. I hear about the avalanche the next day. While it was twelve hours after I'd passed, and not on the interstate but on a state highway, I did drive right past the area. Interesting...

I gas up outside Denver. Now that I'm already through the mountains, and the latter part of the driving got the adrenaline flowing, I figure that I might as well keep going. The rest of the drive is pretty uneventful, except for the part where I hit a blown out tire at 85 mph. Again, adrenaline, and more driving. I'm almost to Kearny, Nebraska, before I'm tired enough to pull off. I rearrange the junk in my car before going to bed, and pull out the cooler. I realize that I'd forgotten about the second package of venison burger in there. I'm not going into details, but I've decided to throw the cooler away...

I wake up in the morning, and keep going. I'm somewhat chagrined that I could've stayed out another day- I'll be back Saturday night instead of Sunday. I coudn't have expected to be up for hiking for ten hours and then driving for ten more, though, and it will just give me a day to relax. The rest of the trip is uneventful, though listening to some talk radio show I do hear about a book that I decide to pick-up and read. It's about reconciling science with God, which happened to be one of the many topics I mulled over while driving. Impeccable timing, though the book is proving less aligned to my thoughts than the author had made it sound in the interview.

I'm back in Minnesota by sunset, and back to the cities a little before seven o' clock. I grab some of my stuff, head up, and begin The Task. You see, having flown solo the whole time, I hadn't really seen the need to shower. After all, there's no one else to be bothered by my funk, my nose doesn't hardly work in the best of circumstances, and just finding a place to shower would've cost money and been a huge pain in the rear. So guess what? My hair is one giant mess of tangles. It takes me an hour in the shower to get them all out, and I end up pulling out no small amount of hair. If I ever go that long again, my hair's going into a pony tail day one and not coming back out.

And that's the trip. Of course, there's gonna be at least one post of reminisces and ruminations, but for what I actually did, and for the pictures that actually turned out, that's it. Oh, and here's one last picture of me from that last night of driving. 2 AM in Nebraska (I think I'm driving past a turkey factory at the time, or at least that's what it smelled like). I swear, there should be a law against being this sexy....

The Final Arch

When I get off the trail I’m starving. I mean, c’mon, beef jerky isn’t the most filling of breakfasts. That, combined with the hike not having been the easiest, has my stomach roaring for food. I was thinking that I’d do up some soup, but the thought of how long that’s gonna take me- combined with the likelihood that I’d run out of fuel before it boils- has me opt for plan B. I swing over to the "Fiery Furnace" overlook for lunch, open up the vacuum pack of tuna fish, squirt in some mayo packets, and get the spoon out.

Oh, you think that’s bad? I swing down to the Delicate Arch parking lot and wash it down with a few swigs of 12 year old Jameson. In retrospect, it was a bad combination. Hell, at the time it was a bad combination. But, I figured that I’d made enough foolish decisions so far that one more seemed appropriate. My stomach stopped liking me.

Delicate Arch is the one that you always see in pictures of the park. It’s a mile and half hike, all uphill one way and downhill the other. The bottom of the trail has this old homestead and a few petroglyphs. The farmstead is some old Civil War vet who moved out to get to a climate better for his aches- until one of his daughters comes and bitches about the conditions and makes him return to Ohio. The glyphs had my hopes up, but it turns out that they’re only from the early 1800's. Yeah, that’s a lot older than me, but the one’s I’d seen in Death Valley were considerably older, more interesting, and rewarding. After all, it was an eight mile hike to get to those ones...

I start hiking up. The first part is pretty easy dirt trail. Then you get to this big ol’ sandstone dome that you have to walk up, the only trail being denote by small stone cairns. On the way down I could see where a trail was slowly being worn in the stone, but on the way up there was too much glare. I pass some people going down, and a few going up. I pass this couple of gorgeous asian chicks who I’d seen on the Devil’s Garden trail. The reason I mention this is because while they were gorgeous, all I could think about was how frickin’ stupid they had to be to wear high heeled boots hiking. It just ruins it to see such a pretty picture and then be forced to factor in that they’re really dumb. Sigh...

Towards the end I start coming upon these giant half-bowl shaped areas that the wind has carved out of the stone. It was almost like the wind was trying to make a skate park. After those, I get to the thin ledge that winds around the top of the stone. With the wind and the snow, I feel like I’m making my pilgrimage to see the wise man on the mountain up in Shangri-La. I get to the post, hop the small ridge that separates the trail, and I’m there.

This place is hard to comprehend for me. It’s another of the wind half-bowls, but huge- football field sized, and probably at least 50 feet from bottom to the lip. It’s also kinda steep, but with my boots I make it alright. Delicate Arch is off to the southeast part, right on the edge of a drop off. It’s really steep and wet on either side of the arch, so it’s a while before I work up the guts to try it.

Another part of the hard to comprehend part is the vibe- with the half dozen other people up there just chillin’, it was like some weird picnic. There were some people getting into the arch when I showed up, including this one chick who was freaking out so bad that she started that maniacal giggle you see right before people start crying and screaming. She made it, though, so I give her credit. I check out some of the edges of the bowl, and give myself some serious jitters (remember, vertigo and acrophobia). There’s some steep canyon around that place. Either way, it was good vibe, and I hang out there for about an hour. I’d have taken more pictures of the arch, but the dinks who were there when I got there didn’t leave the entire time.

I head back down, and the sun is getting low, so I figure that I have just enough time to hit the one mile trail around the Window Arches and snap some sweet sunset photos. These are some really big arches, but they’re just not as impressive to me as the other ones were. I don’t know if it was that I was desensitized after the other arches, if the proportions somehow made them seem lesser, or I was just suffering from having tuna fish and whiskey for lunch. Either way, I finish up the hike and get in the car to find a good pull of to catch the sun set.

Well, it figures, by the time I find any pull out the sun has set. This kinda sucks, because I think it would have made for some sweet photos. I do look east, though, and I see a mountain range away off. The sun is still setting on them, and they’re turning this pale shade of purple. With the snow on them, they’re beautiful- but foreboding. You see, I can almost feel the wind on them from where I am. The snow on the most northerly mountain is being blown almost straight across to the next one south. It’s eerie know that those winds must be incredibly strong, and thinking that I’m looking real-time at an incredibly inhospitable environment.

I watch the mountains until the sun has completely set, and head into Moab for a post-trail dinner. Though I hadn’t really hit the hiking all that hard, at best making 30 miles the whole trip, I figure that I’m hungry and it’s tradition to gorge when the trips done. I was thinking asian (fried rice sounded so damned good), but can’t find anything that doesn’t look fancy and settle for Pizza Hut. Whatever I didn’t finish would just go in a box and be grub for the way back, keeping me from needing to stop for food. Appetite satisfied, I gas up and head back to the interstate. End of Friday, January 7th.

Next time, The Drive Home and The Last Day.

Arches National Park. I think this was my favorite part of the trip. I’d slept pretty warm, what with having a sleeping pad and two sleeping bags to keep me warm. I had woken up a few times during the night to what sounded like someone sliding their hand alongside my tent. I figured that it was the wind and just kept sleeping.

I wake up and discover the true culprit. 4" of snow. The roof of my tent is sagging, and while I’d slept on a slight incline there was still water pooled where in the vestibule where I’d put my sandals. The sound I’d been hearing all night was sheets of snow sliding off the side of the rain fly. As I get up and start breaking camp, the people in the site next to me ask how I’d slept. They’re amazed I slept well, and ask if my tent is a winter tent. They’re even more shocked to find out that it’s a three season because the weight of the snow had collapsed their tent. Poor bastards slept in the car and froze for most of the night. Of course, they were from southern California, so who’s really surprised?

Pack up, have some jerky and water for breakfast, and notice the continued trend in the bathrooms- from Death Valley through Utah I had not yet stopped at a bathroom that had both soap and something to dry your hands with. I grumble a bit about this, but the sun’s up now so it’s time to get trail bound. I fill up my water and drive to the parking lot for the "Devil’s Garden" trailhead. Grab my stuff and head out.

The first thing I notice is that it’s freakin’ windy! I make it about two hundred feet down the trail, and the canyon walls are funneling the wind so badly I head back to the car to toss on an extra layer. At no point do I end up regretting this. I’d hoped to take the longer primitive trail loop, but they say to stay off it after rain or snow. I figure that I’ll just head to the "Double O" arch, a couple mile out, and see how that goes. If it goes well, I’ll give the primitive loop (which meets there and an earlier point on the trail) a shot. If not, I’ll have to get it next time.

Now, to do this justice I need to tell you that I am committing just about every camping sin there is. I brought no extra food, no light, no way to start a fire, no emergency gear period. I brought no extra clothing. I have no map or compass. I’ve never hiked this area before, and have no idea what I’m getting into. And best of all, I’ve given no one any reason to even think that I’m here, much less left any sort of route plan. It just makes it all the more fun that way.

Once I get past the first part of the trail the wind dies down considerably, and I can really take in how beautiful it is. I’m surrounded by massive red sandstone walls that are draped in a deep, soft looking blanket of snow. I’m the first one out, so the only tracks I see are my own.

The first arch I come across is the Landscape Arch, which had a huge chunk fall off in 1991. It’s a huge arch, and I’m really impressed by the scope of this place. I have to chuckle, because it warns that the most likely time for chunks to fall off is during the winter after rain or snow, since the precipitation gets into cracks and freezes. It’s nifty, because you can see the cracks and where the chunks are going to eventually come from. I did not, however, get the chance to see anything fall.

I start from that trail branch towards to "Double O" arch, and start to get my first inkling that this is going to be very interesting. The main trail goes up this gully, and almost immediately I come upon a slickrock "step" about four feet high. With the slick snow on it there’s now way I’m actually going up it. I find my way to the end and get on there, but I’m still being very careful. There’s then a steep grade, but at least there’s plenty of spots to put my feet. I take the spur to check out the Navajo and Partition Arches. The trail is beautiful, with snow dozing junipers scattered about. There's even a section of wall on the way to Navajo Arch that looks like it was made just for bouldering, and when I got back I'm going to give it a go. I take it in and hop back towards the main trail.

Here’s where it get really interesting. At one point the trail starts across a sandstone fin. Now, if you’ve never been across one, it’s like a giant round topped sandstone wall. You start up at one point where it’s low and walk across to another low point. It’s not too bad, because it’s only about 10' high- on the one side. It’s gotta be 30'+ on the other side, though, and as I said before- it’s freakin’ windy. Oh, and I’m also mildly acrophobic (pretty much in direct proportion to the height I’m at) and get vertigo. Not the greatest combo, but damn does it make this fun.

I finish getting across there without any problems, and I’m almost to the end of the trail. But here comes the problem. Before you get to the Double "O" Arch, the trail stops being anything like flat. It goes for about fifty feet along this sloped slickrock covered in loose snow over a very long, if steeply sloped (as opposed to sheer) drop off to the right. If there are any real footholds, they’re covered up by the snow. And it’s still windy.

I stop. If I slip up here, I’m screwed. It’s possible I could take the fall without major injury, but not very likely. That would be bad. But it’s really frustrating, because the arch I’m going to is quite literally around the bend here, and after that there’s only 1/4 mile of trail to the Dark Angel monolith. If I give up now, I won’t die, but I’ll be pissed at myself forever.

So I keep going. I get to the top of this slope okay, but that’s just the first 10-15 feet or so. The rest is down, which is much harder. Luckily, there’s a crack in the ridge, and while it ain’t the comfiest thing I’ve ever done, I slide down along it. I figure that a sore as is better than a broken neck. That takes me most of the way down, and I scramble the last few feet alright.
I check out the arch, and head over to Dark Angel. The desert is simply stunning here, because I can see forever off to the west, and the east is a field of steep snow covered sandstone fissures. I’m alone out here, except for snow, stone, and coyote tracks. It’s cathartic.

I head back, grateful I made the choice I did. Of course the way back up that damned slope isn’t easier. You see, it’s pretty easy to jump down four feet, but to hop back up is much trickier. So I have to start further down the slope, which means it’s longer to get to the fissure. And once there I see that what I’d started up before was the steepest part. I slip a couple times. Luckily, the wind dies off, and I can stand up and actually walk a littl- GUST OF WIND! It doesn’t blow me back, but it' strong enough to straighten me up and takes a few years off my life. If I hadn’t been close enough to the fissure to grab it’s lip, I would’ve gone down. Backwards. That would have sucked.

A couple more slips, some quick pondering whether or not prayers are gonna do me any good now, and I make it down. I start back, and soon see another couple coming up the rock fin I’d crossed earlier. They’re having a bit of trouble getting down. They’re either less sure-footed than I am or less reckless- or both. It doesn’t take me too long to reach them.

We chat for a bit when I get there. They’re from Colorado, and they’ve been here a few times before. They ask how the rest of the trail is. I’m honest- I would not recommend it, but hey, I did it. Considering the trouble they’re having on the fin, I’m glad they chose to turn back. I ask them how the primitive loop compares to the slope before Double O. They tell me that the slope is definitely the trickiest part, but that depending on how snow conditions were further along there could be a few areas that just aren’t passable. So I know that I made the right decision not going the primitive loop, but I’m always gonna wonder what the conditions really were.

I head back down the trail, check out a couple of arches closer to the parking lot. A lot more people are on the trail now, and I don’t spend a whole lot of time here. I head back to my car and after driving the wrong way down the road (the snow had covered the "one way" sign when I came in), head to my next destination.

Next up- Delicate Arches, bad lunches, and the Teeth of the Storm.

The Road Willies

Death Valley’s behind me, and now it’s time to get some road behind there too. I gas up in Beatty, Nevada. Time to reapply the duct tape. You see, I had to have my windshield replaced a few months ago after it was cracked by a rock kicked up by a semi. Well, the bastards who did the repairs apparently didn’t do a very good job of sealing the damned thing, and as I was driving the rubber seal began to peel out. Being from northern Minnesota, the appropriate solution (lacking the ability to return it at the time) is to throw down a swath of duct tape. I’d done this at the Iowa/Nebraska border on the way out, and it was time to re-apply. The other thing I remember about this stop (in Beatty) was the cashier- I’ve never seen someone I’ve been so sure was a meth addict. She looked really, really rough. Maybe it wasn’t meth, but there was something really screwin’ her life up. Bit of a downer to start the drive.

The drive is more interesting that I’d expected- not that that’s saying much. As I’m driving by one of the test ranges I see the sign saying that there are military exercises in progress, and I watch the UAV that they’ve got up flying around.. I also get a kick out of one of the many areas with this "Prison area ahead- do not pick up hitch hikers" sign. What makes this one special is that at the road to turn to the prison there’s also a sign that informs me that there is a wildlife viewing area down there too. I drive through Vegas, don’t bother to stop ‘cause flying solo it holds no interest to me. And that’s all for Nevada.

It gets a little more interesting come Utah. First off, the cops are out in force. This is bad for me, since I’m usually one of, if not the, fastest drivers out there. At one point the car about three vehicles ahead of me gets pulled over. I’d have passed it in about two minutes. I turn off I-15 and onto I-70. I’d filled up in Beaver, Utah, so when I turn on to 70 and see the sign saying "next services 110 miles" I know that I’m okay. It’s still uncomfortable. That’s one of the longest "unserviced" stretches in the country. It is a pretty drive before the sun sets, going through canyons and passes, and at one point I even pass a whole herd of wild elk off to the shoulder.

Then things get weird for me. You see, it’s big country out there, and it made me feel like big things could go on out there. Now, I don’t mean military engagements or mining operations or stuff like that. I mean physically oversized things could be living out there and be right at home. I kept picturing these giant devil rabbits hopping around, and coming across monstrous footprints hiking. I also got something of the same vibe you get when you watch "Yellow Submarine" when they’re being chased by the boots and vacuum critter and all that stuff- the idea that there’s a bunch of big, weird critters out there in some weird food chain.

At this point I’ve creeped myself out. I kept on getting this feeling that there was something out there pulling at me, like it wanted to suck me into the desert and not let me leave. I began to really pay attention to my driving, ‘cause I sure as hell didn’t want to slide into the ditch. It was spooky, and felt like the earth was just so old here that the spirit of the land itself was leaching out into the "real" world. I dunno. It was like the earth was desperate for life, and didn’t want me to get away. Needless to say, I felt really out of place and really uncomfortable.

I finish my drive, pulling into Arches National Park just after eight o’ clock. I head up to the Devil’s Garden campground. I throw out my sleeping bag and do some reading. The heebie-jeebies have passed by now, so I’m good. I’d planned on sleeping under the stars, but when I finished reading I noticed that there weren’t any- there was a snow storm moving in. I pitch the tent and hit the hay. Tomorrow- snow, arches, hiking, more snow, and adrenaline being better than coffee.

Oh, and sorry about no pics on this one. Spent the whole day driving, and what pics I did take I threw on the last post. But rest assured that there's gonna be a bunch tomorrow, and they'll be some of my favorite pics of the whole trip. In all likelihood I'll need to split it into a couple posts again.

Detours, Desolation, and Death Valley Pics

After returning the bear-proof container to the ranger station, I start back down the mountain. I decide to take Highway 245, since it’s gonna save me about 20 miles. Of course, I soon learn that the average posted speed here is about 20 mph. Granted, I’m going 35-40 for most of it, but it’s definitely a slow drive. Better yet, about 10 minutes into it I realize that I really have to pee.

I have an hour drive in front of me. And anywhere I pull off I’m gonna be peeing in someone’s yard. It’s a long drive.

.

.

Damn I'm sexy. Grrrr...

I make it to Porterville without wetting myself. Barely. Either way, I pull into a Starbucks, get a fix, and thrown down a quick post. I want some quick grub, and I figure that some McDon’s dollar menu will do alright to tide me over. What’s weird is that their dollar menu is completely different from ours. I end up getting a regular burger, and soon regret it. My stomach just wasn’t ready for fast food. I gas up and head west.

I take 190 west, figuring that I can cut through the mountains over to Death Valley and spend the rest of the afternoon popping around there. It takes me back through the Sequoia National Forest, goes through the mountains, and keeps me from having to detour a hundred miles or so out of my way through Bakersfield. It also goes through Success, California, one of the most inappropriately named places I’ve ever seen. It’s a dried up reservoir with a dam. Woot. Success! Anyhow, 190 is just like 245, but worse (or better, if you like to drive like I do). Some dude actually passes me in an old Datsun, and I’ve gotta give him credit for some grande cojones. I mean, I’m squealing around corners barely keeping all four on the road, and this dude blows by me. Props, dude.

I’m on the road for about 45 minutes when I see the first "Road Closed Ahead" sign. Of course, while it tells me how many miles until it closes, it doesn’t tell me where that is. I’m trying to get to J14, and it’s pretty close as to whether or not that’s going to be before or after the closure. I stop into a diner and ask the waitress if she knows, and she says that the whole Great Western Divide Highway is closed. Well, that’s 190, but still doesn’t tell me if it’s before or after my turn off. I keep going. Half an hour later I get to where it’s closed, in front of some lodge/resort. I haven’t made it to J14, but it’s another one of those "it’s not plowed, but people have still been driving on it" deals. I think about giving it a shot, but something in my gut tells me that’s a really bad idea. When your gut’s as big as mine is, you listen to it. I’m on vacation, so screw the rush.

Of course, this means back tracking. I’ve now gone over two hours out of my way for nothing (other than some fun, if questionable, driving). I head back through Porterville, and start truckin’ to Bakersfield. While I don’t "walk the streets of Bakersfield" in homage to an old country song none of you have ever heard of, I am impressed by the eternal wall of orange groves and oil fields. I’m tempted to pull off and do a quick orange raid, but I figure that it’s gonna be more trouble than it’s worth. I also notice that, while some of these stations have oil rigs damned near in their parking lots, gas here is as expensive as I’ve seen.
.

Drive, drive, drive. I get passed in the mountains by a couple people driving hell bent for election. I pick up speed to keep pace with them, and then end up passing them because after riding my ass for a few miles they drop back to the speed I had been going. One of my many driving pet peeves- if you’re gonna pass someone, you’d better keep going faster than them. Gas up in some town, and keep going through the lower Sierra Nevadas. I get on to I-395 at Inyokern, driving past the China Lake Naval Proving Grounds. My mind runs wild at the things that could be going on out there. Terrible, devastating things. Really, really cool things.
.

While I don’t see any nuclear weaponry being tested, as I approach the turn off to get back onto 190 I am privileged to a very impressive moon rising over the mountains. Stop in for some "Dang Good Jerky" near Olancha. It’s a pretty cool little shop, just some 15X15 hut with wall to wall dried jerky and fruit and such. The outside is just covered in decals, everything from bands to brands to rodeo stickers. Made me think of "Killroy’s Skate ‘n’ Bait." I head west to Death Valley.

I shut the radio off. There aren’t any stations that really come in anyway, and heading away from town I can almost imagine that I’m the only person on the planet. No music, no light other than my car, and a massive moon rising over my shoulder. I spook a coyote off the road, but other than that I’m totally alone. God, it felt good.

I pull into Death Valley shortly after 8. The ranger stations are closed, and I’m not paying over $3 a gallon to fill up here, so I pay my entrance fee at a kiosk. On an trip I’d taken a few years back we’d camped overnight in the dunes, and I figure on doing the same. As long as you were over a mile off the road you were good. I grab my gear and head to the dunes, still wondering at the moon.

I pick a spot and lay my gear down. The stars are out, but the moon is so bright that they aren’t as striking as they could be. It’s nice either way. Unfortunately, there’s a crew of people who are out wandering around the dunes being noisy as all get out, and I find that, especially after my little "alone in the world" drive, it makes for a rather unpleasant experience. It takes me quite a while to fall asleep. On the upside, unlike the last time I slept in the Dunes, there was no kit fox to eat my boot laces.

I wake up cold, despite being in a bag rated to 15 degrees and having slept on a winter weight sleeping pad. It’s before sunrise, and the moon is still up. I pack up, climb a dune, and stand there watching the sun rise. I still wanted to be alone, or at least quiet, and the same people ruin it again. Luckily, though, they’re soon out of earshot before the sun rises. It was very relaxing. Well, for the most part.

There were jets doing maneuvers over the valley. I hadn’t realized this last time, but the valley acts as a natural amplifier for the sound of the jets. When they’d pull a sharp turn and really kick the jets on it almost shook you where you stood. It was incredibly impressive, and strangely enough bothered me far less than the people wandering around. Once the moon sets, I pick up and head out.

The day’s early enough that I figure I can go check out a few sights I hadn’t seen last time. My foot gets the best of me on the flats again. There’s no one out there, and it’s a straight shot. I get it up to 115 mph before I go over a mound and land hard enough to pop the button on my shorts. I figure it’s time to cut it back. I head up to the ranger station, realize that I had actually gone up here before, and head to Nevada. But more on that next time.

Tomorrow- Las Vegas, prisons, spooky deserts, and Arches National Park.