Grand Canyon Retrospective: Day 2- Monument Creek to the Colorado River

The Monument of Monument Creek: a spire of 545 million year old Tapeats Sandstone perched on 1.7 billion year old base of Trinity gneiss. The 1.2 billion missing years between the two layers is known as the “Great Unconformity”. 

Every year for the past five years, I have climbed a mountain on my birthday. Last year,  I tackled the inverted mountain that is the Grand Canyon, where 5,000 vertical feet separate the rim from the river. I arrived at the bottom, on the shores of the blue-green Colorado, on my 30th birthday.

After spending our first day descending into the canyon via the Hermit Trail, we spent a night at the headwaters of Monument Creek. In the morning, we bypassed the Tonto Trail running east in favor of hiking down to the river through the narrow slickrock slot canyon that holds Monument Creek. After the previous day’s hike in the sun, walking alongside cold, clear running water was a gift.

Filling my water bottle at the headwaters of Monument Creek. We treated our water with Aquamira drops or by boiling. The Pima Point overlook is above, on the right.

Monument Creek Slickrock Canyon

Monument Creek runs through one of the thousands of side canyons that trickle down from the North and South rims and empty into the Colorado. Many of these canyons end in sheer drops of hundreds of vertical feet; Monument Creek is much easier to navigate to the river, only requiring a few short sections of stemming to keep your boots dry.

Drew stemming across Monument Creek

This time of year, on a clear sunny day, Monument Creek makes for easy canyoneering. I would not want to be there in a storm; flash floods have sculpted and scoured the channel smooth in the way that only violent water can. In a few places, nicks slashed into the canyon walls by hurling boulders have been widened into nooks large enough to sit in quite comfortably, on a dry day.

How I spent my 30th birthday…

Monument Creek has cut this narrow canyon down to the Colorado, to the basement of the Earth: the wide, glittering veins of black Vishnu Schist and pink Zoroaster Granite formed nearly 2 billion years ago, when the Earth was just beginning to cool enough for rocks to form out of molten lava.

Black vishnu schist & pink zoroaster granite near the mouth of Monument Creek

These rocks are ancient, hardened by time and pressure into glittering walls of metamorphic rock. As we made our way down through the canyon, the stream bed widened into a graveled channel and the creek disappeared at our feet. As we neared the Colorado, the sound of the big river grew louder with every rounded bend. We dropped down to the water table and the stream reappeared, without fanfare, first as wet sand, then a trickle and then, once again, a creek.

A boulder of Coconino Sandstone shed from the cliffs high above

Rounding the last bend of Monument Creek, we passed through a miniature forest of red tamarisk and emerged on the white rocky banks of a shockingly green Colorado River.

Our packs at the Colorado River!

I’d seen the Colorado before from a distance: looking down from the North and South rims and stoppered into an artificial lake at Glen Canyon in southern Utah, but never this close and never this fast. The Colorado may be tempered up and downstream, but I was relived to see that here, the river still runs wild.

Colorado River Self Portrait

River rapids are created by boulders and debris brought down from side canyons by flash floods. The narrower the river channel and the bigger the underwater debris field, the bigger the rapids. The white water at the mouth of Monument Creek is known as Granite Rapids, rated an 8 out of 10 on the Grand Canyon scale. Most other white water is categorized on a scale from I to VI, but the Grand Canyon is not most other white water.

Smooth water breaking into rapids at the boulder-strewn mouth of Monument Creek

In the winter, rafting trips on the Colorado are restricted to one private party a day. Enthusiasts play the lottery for years and some pay thousands for the opportunity. We didn’t expect to see any rafting parties, but serendipitous things sometimes happen on birthdays. Sitting on a rock by the water, within reach of the spray from a particularly gnarly looking rapid directly in front of us, I turned and saw an astronaut.

Drew & the Rafting Guide

He was a rafter, dressed head to toe in a bright yellow rubber suit with a helmet and face guard and tools and ropes dangling from his life vest. He told us he had jumped out upstream to spot his mates through the rapids. We had plunked ourselves right in front of the scariest stretch of water in this part of the river: a hydraulic feature notorious for sucking down entire boats and holding them underwater. The spotter’s job was to stand on the shore by the hydraulic and throw a rope to anybody unlucky enough to end up in the drink.

The three of us watched as the raft closely hugged the far wall, staying as far from the hydraulic as possible. When they flew past, we let out a big whoop and the rafter ran back upstream to catch the next raft through while the first boat pulled up on the beach and a woman, in blue, took the spotter’s position with the rope. The second raft followed the same line and everybody whooped again.

Running Granite Rapids

Safe on shore, we chatted a bit. We were excited to see rafters and they were excited to see backpackers. They asked us where we’d come from and we pointed up to the cliffs more than 4,200 feet above; not bad for a day and a half’s work. None of the rafters had ever hiked down from the rim, though some had taken day hikes along the shore and up side canyons. “We get to see more of the canyon, mileage-wise,” one woman said, “but from the river this place looks like a narrow chute, and I know it’s not.”

The second spotter with her throwing rope

Our itinerary called for us to hike back up Monument and head another 4 miles east to Salt Creek to camp for the night, but the Colorado was calling us to stay. Itineraries be damned. We camped by the river, no tent, under spectacular stars. The sound of the rushing river was so beautiful, the new moon stars so bright, that I stayed awake most of the night, watching and listening and relishing all the hours of the best birthday anybody has ever had.

Monument Creek Self Portrait

Monument Creek Flash Flood Niche

Up next: Day 3- Crossing the Tonto Platform & the Weight of Water…

Posted in Hiking!, Photography, Uncategorized, Vagabonding 101 | Tagged , , , , | 12 Comments

Grand Canyon Retrospective: Day 1 Down the Hermit Trail

Hiking Down the Hermit Trail

The Seven Wonders of the Natural World – the Grand Canyon, the Great Barrier Reef, the Harbor of Rio de Janeiro, Mount Everest, the Aurora, Paricutin Volcano and Victoria Falls – are not ranked in any particular order, but after spending five days on foot in the Grand Canyon, I find it hard to believe any other place could evoke a greater sense of wonderment.

I have a background in geology and have written about the evolution of the Grand Canyon for EARTH magazine, but descending into the canyon via the Hermit Trail, traveling 60,000 years back in time with every downward step, all I could do was wonder, marvel and walk in awe of the unfathomable power of water and time over rocks.

Worm burrows in Hermit Shale, laid down in shallow seas 265 million years ago

Everything about the Grand Canyon is awesome, in the true sense of that word. Any one formation, any one side canyon, could be an entire park in itself; Zion could fit inside the Hermit Creek drainage. On foot those formations and side canyons extend as far as the eye can see and after a few miles I began to feel like the whole world could fit inside the Grand Canyon.

Cope Butte, a massive fin of Red Wall limestone. We spent most of the day hiking around it to our first campsite on the other side; the trail follows around the base of the cliffs. 

The rocks under my feet were equally as stunning: huge boulders cleaved from petrified sand dunes, glittering opalite crystals and chunks of bright red chert. Anywhere else, gems like these might be pocketed by passing rock hounds, but in the Grand Canyon, where everything must be carried up several thousand vertical feet, people tend to leave treasures lie.

Red Jasper, also known as chert, along the Hermit Trail

I knew the rocks in the Grand Canyon would be amazing, but I was surprised at how green the place is! This is a desert, but the canyon was carved by water and the xerophytes are quite happy with their few flashes of seasonal rainfall. We saw enormous yuccas, ancient junipers, towering Century plants and even tiny purple flowers, blooming in February.

A happy yucca along the Hermit Trail

The descent down Hermit was no joke: we dropped 3,440 feet in 6.5 miles, much of it over extremely rocky, uneven terrain. By the time we hit the Tonto Bench and turned east, our legs were shaking and our toes were sore from being mashed into the toeboxes of our boots.

The Hermit Trail, like most paths in the Grand Canyon, started as an Indian trail. The route was improved in the early 1900′s by the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway to bypass the toll for bringing mule-riding tourists down Bright Angel. Back then, Hermit was paved with cobblestones and touted as the most modern trail in the canyon. Today, Hermit lies within the “Threshold” zone of the park and is not maintained. Rock slides have taken out a few sections, and most of the cobblestones have migrated downslope, though a few sections remain.

Cobblestone-paved switchbacks on the Hermit Trail

The rocky path is well-worn and easy to follow at your feet, but as you look down the trail, it disappears. I’ve never seen a trail so hard to trace through the landscape. Looking back, it’s hard to believe you’ve just hiked down through the sheer cliffs and rubble. Looking forward, you can’t believe the trail will find a way through. Sure enough it does, skirting along narrow bands of cliffs that don’t look passable until you’re past.

Hermit Trail emerging below the Cathedral Steps, a murderously steep set of switchbacks below Lookout Point

A casualty of carving the Cathedral Steps switchbacks

Our first day down Hermit was our longest day, mileage-wise and elevation-wise, but it was an awesome way to spend the last day of my 20′s! Stay tuned for more posts on canyoneering down Monument Creek, watching rafters run the Colorado, crossing the Tonto Bench, communing with ravens at Plateau Point and hiking out Bright Angel in a snowstorm!

Our backpacks at Lookout Point

Posted in Hiking!, Photography, Uncategorized, Vagabonding 101 | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Best Hikes on Earth: The Dragon’s Back

Enter the Dragon's Back!

Enter the Dragon’s Back!

Back in college, I got into the habit of taking a long walk everyday and nearly ten years later, I’ve covered a lot of ground on my own two feet. When people hear I’ve been hiking in all 50 states, they often ask: what’s the best trail you’ve ever hiked? Impossible to say. Every place is beautiful and fascinating in its own way and trying to compare the Maine coast to the Canadian Rockies to the desert southwest is like comparing apples to oranges to prickly pear.

This week I hiked a trail that might be a contender for my top ten hikes of all time: the Dragon’s Back in the Ojito Wilderness. The Ojito Wilderness in western New Mexico, near San Ysidro, is a wonderfully weird place, home to some of the most uniquely jumbled geology I’ve ever seen: sculpted ice cream cones, sensational prows of tilted sandstone, stark white wombs, brightly stained badlands, all mashed up against the side of a tremendous textbook anticline:

Behold the Ojito!

Behold the San Ysidro Anticline! Once a dome, now a bowl. Geology rules. Cabezon Peak is on the left in the distance.

On my first visit to Ojito, I stayed away from the marked paths and explored the off trail areas east of White Mesa. To read about off trail navigation in the desert, check out my previous post Into the Ojito Wilderness. The place was so incredible that I thoroughly enjoyed myself despite near constant machine gun fire across the road. The Wild West lives in the Ojito Wilderness, it seems.

This time, I parked the Teardrop in the parking lot for the White Mesa trail system, where I was reasonably sure I wouldn’t be camping in the line of fire and set out to hike the Dragon’s Back. This stark-white trail is carved across the narrow top of a long, narrow gypsum-topped mesa. The Dragon has a head and a tail and a five-mile long undulating back that crosses stunning wide-open country between highway 550 and Cabezon Peak.

The Dragon's Back trail is stark white because it crosses the top of a gypsum-rich mesa

The Dragon’s Back trail is bright white because it crosses the top of a gypsum-rich mesa.

Gypsum is waters-soluable. there's not much water in

Gypsum is water-soluable. There’s not much water in this country, but enough to carve a few disconcerting large and deep sinkholes along the top of the ridge.

Approaching the head of the Dragon! Bowie needed a little boost on that steep section ahead, but Dio scrambled right on up.

Approaching the head of the Dragon! Bowie needed a little boost on that steep section ahead, but Dio scrambled right on up.

Summit of the Dragon's Head. Highway 550 and the salt-white Rio Puerco are below.

Summit of the Dragon’s Head. Highway 550 and the salt-white Rio Puerco are below.

Happy Dusty Dogs

Happy Dusty Dogs

Shells at the summit

Shells at the summit

Juniper & Cabezon

Juniper & Cabezon. I climbed Cabezon two years ago.

Returning along the Dragon's Back. The tail curls around to the left.

Returning along the Dragon’s Back. The tail curls around to the left.

Ok, so I do have an answer for the best place I’ve ever hiked: the Grand Canyon! Last year I spent my 30th birthday hiking a 5-day loop from Hermit’s Rest to Bright Angel. On the way out, climbing out of the canyon in a snowstorm, I swore I’d be back. Soon I will be! Stay tuned next week for a Grand Canyon retrospective, followed by brand new posts on my upcoming trek to Havasu! :)

Posted in Bowie & D.O.G., Hiking!, New Mexico, Photography, Road tripping!, Sustainable Living, Teardrop Trailer, Vagabonding 101 | Tagged , , | 12 Comments

Dog, Memory

Salty Dog Bruce

Salty Dog Bruce camouflaged in the salt-dry riverbed

I’m always amazed by how well my dogs remember places and people on our travels. They never know where we’re going or how long it will take to get there, but they sure as hell know when we’ve arrived somewhere they’ve been before. Driving down the Turquoise Trail, south from Santa Fe, as soon as a we passed the distinctive gateway of rocks that flank the road at the Garden of the Gods, my dogs knew where we were. After a year away from New Mexico, when they saw those rocks, they both sat up and started wagging, panting and whining with excitement.

My boys at the Garden of the Gods

My boys and Trinity at the Garden of the Gods

All week, I’ve been reveling in this land, revisiting rocks and trees, arroyos and overlooks, enamored by how well I remember where my paths run across this unmarked expanse. I wonder whether this desert remembers me. The ravens, the coyotes, the horses, the hares — do they see me, smell me, hear me hiking across their land and think, oh yes: Her. I don’t presume to be missed by this place, but I like to think I am remembered.

Hiking with six good dogs

Hiking with six good dogs

No doubt, the dogs remember me. Every time I walk up to a friend’s house and whistle, their dogs come running, barking a low warning reserved for strangers, then, invariably, their barks rise in excitement and they launch at me, clawing, licking, whining, leaping, ecstatic that I smell like an old friend. Even Trinity, the damaged Bernese whom I used to have to coax into my hands, came running, unreservedly happy to see me. Dog joy is pure joy; I feel so blessed.

Dog Reunion!

Dog Reunion!

And, of course, I went to visit the Blonde Coyote. My first day out here, I hiked out to my favorite spot: the precipitous edge of a mesa, overlooking the Earthship a mile away across the flood plain. I stood there and whistled and saw two specks, one black, one blonde, run out from the walled yard, barking. My heart nearly stopped. Surely they hadn’t actually heard me (Freckles is stone cold deaf) or seen me or smelled me so far away. But they weren’t running south towards the mesa, they were running due west and when I tracked their trajectory I saw several reddish brown dog-sized specks leading the chase: coyotes! Wild America lives in this big backyard.

Puppy love between Bruce & Arie at the mesa overlook

Puppy love between Bruce & Arie at the mesa overlook

The next day, the Blonde Coyote and I had our reunion. I found her on the hill behind the house, deep in a deaf dog’s sound sleep. I tapped the ground with my foot and she woke up and started to shy away – she’s very skittish – and then caught my scent and reversed course, right into my arms. One molecule and she knew me, one step and she was ready to follow me anywhere. Come on girl, let’s hike to the horizons.

Two Blonde Coyotes

Two Happy Blonde Coyotes

Posted in Bowie & D.O.G., Hiking!, New Mexico, Photography, Road tripping!, Vagabonding 101 | Tagged , | 10 Comments

Cowboys Are My Weakness*

Jeans & Boots, Chaps & Spurs

Jeans & Boots, Chaps & Spurs

One of my projects while I’m here in New Mexico has been to print up a series of my rodeo photos from last summer to show at the Jezebel Gallery in Madrid, NM. I had the prints made at High Desert Arts in Santa Fe (gotta support the locals!). Here is my artist statement for “The Wild Ones: Cowboys, Bulls & Broncs”: 

I’ve always loved the wild ones. The difficult ones, the tempestuous ones, the ornery ones, the rebels. I learned to ride on a wild one: an athletic, explosive buckskin named Dakota. I always said he should have been a bucking horse. He rarely threw me, but he sure as hell tried.

A Long 8 Seconds

A Long 8 Seconds

When I was a teenager, out riding cross-country far from home, Dakota took off bucking and twisting. In less than 8 seconds I hit the ground hard. Some hours later, I awoke alone in a field, with six fractured vertebrae, two herniated discs and two cracked ribs. Dakota was gone. I spent the rest of the day dragging myself home through the longest cornfield of my life.

Cowboys Pray Hard

Cowboys Pray Hard

Recovery took years. I was told to baby my back, to avoid any kind of strain on the damaged discs, shaky vertebrae and seared muscles. As everything weakened, the pain worsened and by my early-20’s I felt intractably broken. Not until my senior year of college when I adopted a young, hyper border collie and started taking long walks every day did I begin to heal. Walking made me stronger. My balance, posture and flexibility improved. Soon I was hiking, then backpacking, then climbing mountains, traveling great distances in search of new terrain. But I stayed away from horses.

They say you aren’t a real rider until you fall off and get back on. Months after my accident, I did get back on Dakota, but our relationship was broken. I didn’t trust him and he didn’t trust me. Heartbroken, I sold him. A year later, another twist of the knife: my first love, my childhood pony Saturday, died in my arms.

Partners

Partners

For years after Dakota and Saturday, I avoided horses. Horses had broken my back and my heart and I could not so much as watch one or touch one without a twinge of pain and the prick of tears. Then, driving cross-country from the Atlantic, to the Gulf, to the desert Southwest, I rolled through Roswell, New Mexico, where a banner stretched across Main Street, declared it Roswell Rodeo Weekend. I have a policy about saying yes to all opportunities, so I went to the rodeo, sat in the stands, clutching my camera, and fell hard all over again.

Bullriders

Bullriders

I loved everything about the rodeo: the Sunday hats, the trophy buckles, the garish chaps, the rubber-banded spurs, the elfin-toed boots, the true grit, the strong handshakes, the dust the mud and the blood. Most of all I loved the wild ones: the cowboys, bulls and broncs. In their soft eyes and wild rides, I saw myself, young, reckless and at one with the bucking beasts. My bitterness at having been broken so young and so dumb was gone. Through my lens, I was elated, elevated, levitated, watching the wild ones.

Small Town Spurs

Small Town Spurs

Of all the things I love to photograph, rodeos quickly became one of my all time favorites. I never tire of trying to capture the crackling, swirling kinetic energy of the rodeo, the power and partnership, the poetry of motion.

Hat Left, Boots Right, Bull Middle

Hat Left, Boots Right, Bull Middle

After Roswell, I quickly figured out you can’t properly shoot a rodeo from the stands. You need to get close enough to the action to get dirt on your lens, to look the wild ones in the eye. Putting on my Australian cowboy hat and my bravest (former) bronc-riding face, I learned to charm my way behind the scenes, into the heart of the action, behind the bull chutes. At most rodeos, I’m the only woman back there. Not once has anybody ever kicked me out of this ultimate boys club. It’s true what they say: cowboys are polite, even as they step onto the back of a bucking bull.

Moment of Truth

Moment of Truth

In fact, as a general rule, rodeo people are great people. For the past five years, I’ve spent my summers touring the back roads of North America, and the number of times I’ve chanced upon small towns on rodeo weekends – Pagosa Springs, Galisteo, Eureka, Quesnel – is enough to make me believe in the magic of road trip serendipity.

In the Bull Chute

In the Bull Chute

When rodeo people hear about my life on the road, they’re intrigued and often downright hospitable. I’ve been invited to barbecues, family dinners, barn dances and trail rides (I always say yes). I hand out business cards, email free photos and donate shots to the organizers. On the sidelines, in the stands, I’m an outsider, an imposter, a spectator at best, but behind the scenes, in the midst of an adrenaline-charged crush of cowboys, bulls and broncs, somehow I belong.

That little girl who loved wild horses still lives in me; I realize now she never left. Not long after I arrived in New Mexico, I got back in the saddle. These days, I ride good-tempered horses, enjoying the kind of partnerships I didn’t appreciate in my hot-horse childhood. I still love the wild ones, but now 31 years old and a dedicated hiker, backpacker, mountaineer and traveler (I hit my 50th state last summer!) I keep my feet on the ground, my eye to the viewfinder and leave the bulls and the broncs to the cowboys, the real wild ones.

My Prints, Ready for Jezebel!

My Prints, Ready for Jezebel!

* This title is borrowed from the gem of a book “Cowboys Are My Weakness” by Pam Houston.

Posted in Beyond the USA, Cowboys & Horses, Photography, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 17 Comments

A Friend in Wounded Knee

The least of my worries in Pine Ridge

The least of my worries in Pine Ridge

The Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in southwest South Dakota is infamous: this was the site of the Massacre at Wounded Knee in 1890 and in the 1970′s, a series of deadly sieges between members of the American Indian Movement and the FBI. Today, Pine Ridge is the 8th largest reservation in the US by area and the poorest: 80 percent of the 40,000 residents are unemployed. Most live on less than $6,000 a year. At times, the reservation has reported six times the crime rate of similarly sized regions. Alcoholism, drug abuse and diabetes are rampant; average life expectancy hovers around a half-century, the lowest in the country.

Pine Ridge is a dangerous place, especially for women, who suffer from some of the highest rates of abuse and assault, along with some of the lowest rates of  prosecution. So when I saw a woman thumbing a ride on the side of Highway 27, near Wounded Knee, I stopped and offered her a ride. Her name was Trisha and she looked about my age. She needed a ride into Manderson to buy groceries. She had three kids, a missing husband and no car. Such is life on the Rez.

Historical sign marking the site of the Wounded Knee Massacre

Historical sign marking the site of the Wounded Knee Massacre

Trisha asked me where I had come from and where I was going. She was incredulous that I had traveled by myself all the way to Alaska and back. She asked what on Earth I was doing on the Rez; a place she herself had never once left. Pine Ridge is a dangerous place, but it’s also a beautiful place, just south of Badlands National Park. I hadn’t really planned on driving through Pine Ridge, but I was heading south to Nebraska. Manderson was north of Wounded Knee, in the opposite direction, but I gave her a ride anyway. A few fleeting moments that morning had put me in debt to the Rez and I wanted to give something back.

Earlier, I had crossed paths with two little boys riding two big paint horses, bareback, with only string for reins. As I drew close in my car, the boys looked back, saw me and goaded their horses to gallop, running alongside my car, their little brown bodies stuck like glue to the rhythmic backs of those beautiful brown and white horses. The boys laughed and waved and I waved back and nearly cried. I have seen plenty of great horsemanship in my life; few compare to those two boys. They rode like they had been born on horseback, like they had learned to ride even before they learned to walk. And they probably had.

Pine Ridge Horses

Pine Ridge Horses with the Badlands in the background

On our way to the grocery store, Trisha gave me the tour: A marker on the side of the road where her little sister had been killed by a drunk driver. A newly-built cinder block community center, already tagged with spray paint and broken windows. “Kids and their gangs,” she said. We passed a crew of what looked like teenagers, sprawled on a decaying porch, bottles in hand. “Drunk,” she said. It was mid-morning. I was reminded of my trip to the Makah Indian Reservation on the northwest tip of Washington State. So many kids, sitting around, bored to death, looking like trouble. A generation earlier those kids would have been learning to hunt whales from canoes with handheld harpoons. Now they hunted bottles and gangs. May those little boys stay horseback forever.

The Badlands from Pine Ridge

The Badlands from Pine Ridge

At the grocery store, the shelves mostly bare, nothing fresh, all processed, Trisha stocked up on canned beans and tortillas, soda and chips. I offered her a ride back home. Home was a rundown trailer. Her three kids, two shy girls and a rambunctious boy, had been left to watch out for each other. The oldest was ten, the middle eight, the youngest two. With their mother translating, they asked to touch my braid and I obliged. Trisha told me their father had been a mean drunk and when he disappeared, she hadn’t gone looking for him. Good riddance, she said.

She asked me to stay for lunch, tortillas and beans. On the table, amidst a pile of bright white scraps, I saw a small buckskin pouch, decorated with a porcupine quill and red and purple beads. “I made it,” she told me. I asked if I could buy it. She offered to give it to me, in exchange for the ride, but I insisted. Lunch was a fair trade for the ride, I told her. I want to pay you for this.

Lucky Charms in the Raven. They haven't let me down yet!

Lucky Charms in the Raven. They haven’t let me down yet!

Before I left, Trisha waded into the sagebrush alongside the trailer and stuffed my pouch with a few scented sprigs. Then she picked up a perfectly round pebble, placed it in the bag and cinched it shut. “The sage will keep you healthy and the stone will keep you safe,” she told me. “Hang it on your rearview mirror and you’ll have a friend everywhere you go.”

Read my previous posts the Lost Art of Hitchhiking and Trespassing in Canyon de Chelly.

Posted in Cowboys & Horses, Photography, Road tripping!, Uncategorized, Vagabonding 101 | Tagged , , , | 28 Comments

“My House”, My Anthem!

Life Elevated, Indeed!

Life Elevated!

Who needs a house up on a hill,
When you can have one on four wheels
And take it anywhere the wind might go
You don’t ever have to mow the yard
Just hang a map and throw a dart
Pray to God the engine starts and go

Water and electric and a place to drain the septic
Any KOA is A-OK as long as I’m with you
So come on hitch your wagon
To the living room I’m draggin’
If I can’t bring you to my house
I’ll bring my house to you

Parking lots and county lines
[?] market signs
Where the buffalo and antelope roam
Greetings from Niagara Falls
One more postcard for the wall
Off in our home sweet home away from home

Water and electric and a place to drain the septic
Any KOA is A-OK as long as I’m with you
So come on hitch your wagon
To the living room I’m draggin’
If I can’t bring you to my house
I’ll bring my house to you

In Washington, in Idaho
In Oregon and away we go
To Tennessee and Arkansas
No we won’t stop ’til we’ve seen ‘em all
‘Til we’ve seen ‘em all

So what else could you ask for?
You don’t even need a passport
To see the whole world from our living room
So come on hitch your wagon
To the happiness I’m draggin’
If I can’t bring you to my house
I’ll bring my house to you
If I can’t bring you to my house
I’ll bring my house to you

It don’t matter where we go
We’ll never be alone
Anywhere besides you
Is a place that I’ll call home

“My House” By Kacey Musgraves

Thanks to Philip for finding my new anthem! :)

In celebration of my one-year Teardrop anniversary, here are some of my favorite photos of the Raven & the Rattler all over North America:

Capitol Reef National Park, Utah

Capitol Reef National Park, Utah

Trading Post Teardrop near Mesa Verde, Colorado

Trading Post Teardrop near Mesa Verde, Colorado

At the "North Pole!"

At the “North Pole!”

Pawnee National Grasslands in eastern Colorado

Pawnee National Grasslands in eastern Colorado

Vedauwoo Rocks, Wyoming, after getting my solar panel installed

Vedauwoo Rocks, Wyoming, after getting my solar panel installed

On the road to Butch Cassidy's Outlaw Cave in eastern Wyoming

On the road to Butch Cassidy’s Outlaw Cave in eastern Wyoming

Dinosaur National Monument!

Dinosaur National Monument!

One of my favorite free campsites of the summer near Cedar Breaks, Utah

One of my favorite free campsites of the summer near Cedar Breaks, Utah

Welcome to Nevada! One of my all-time favorite driving states.

Welcome to Nevada! One of my all-time favorite driving states.

Highway 50: the Loneliest Road in America!

Highway 50: the Loneliest Road in America!

Main Street in Eureka, Nevada

Main Street in Eureka, Nevada

Teardrop Meets the Pacific

Teardrop Meets the Pacific

Kickin in on California's Lost Coast

Kickin’ it on California’s Lost Coast

Welcome to Oregon!

Welcome to Oregon!

Mount Hood!

Mount Hood!

Oregon Lava Fields

Oregon Lava Fields

Boondocking by Mount Saint Helens

Boondocking by Mount Saint Helens

Mount Rainier Drive-By

Mount Rainier Drive-By

Into Canada! Heading North to Alaska!

Into Canada! Heading North to Alaska!

The Center of British Columbia

Vanderhoof: The Geographical Center of British Columbia

Driving the Alaskan Highway!

Driving the Alaskan Highway!

Outside the General Store in Hyder, Alaska

Outside the General Store in Hyder, Alaska

Boondocking by the Salmon Glacier on the border of BC and Alaska

Boondocking by the Salmon Glacier on the border of BC and Alaska

The Yukon's Signpost Forest

The Yukon’s Signpost Forest

Welcome back to the USA!

Welcome back to the USA!

Crossing Montana

Crossing Montana

Into North Dakota

Into North Dakota

North Dakota Sunflowers!

North Dakota Sunflowers!

Petrified Wood Park in Lemon, South Dakota

World’s Largest Petrified Wood Park in Lemon, South Dakota

Cruising through the Badlands

Cruising through the Badlands

A stopover in Egon's Teardrop workshop for upgrades and minor repairs after our summer on the road!

A stopover in Egon’s Teardrop workshop for upgrades and minor repairs after our summer on the road!

Visiting my 5th Great Lake: Ontario!

Visiting my 5th Great Lake: Ontario!

First Snow, in Vermont

Teardrop’s First Snow, in Vermont

The Teardrop's Winter Berth in Strasburg, Pennsylvania

The Teardrop’s Winter Berth in Strasburg, Pennsylvania

Back East on the Blue Ridge Parkway

Back East on the Blue Ridge Parkway

Paris, Tennessee

Paris, Tennessee

Camping in Kansas

Camping in Kansas

Return to New Mexico!

Return to New Mexico!

For more info on my Teardrop check out my previous posts: A Teardrop Is Born, My Teardrop on the Tiny House Blog and also my video-tour of the Rattler. Stay tuned for another summer on the road!

Posted in Beyond the USA, Bowie & D.O.G., Hiking!, New Mexico, Photography, Road tripping!, Sustainable Living, Teardrop Trailer, Uncategorized, Vagabonding 101 | Tagged , , | 5 Comments

The Teardrop Sees America!

Teardrop Meets the Pacific

Teardrop Meets the Pacific

Last March, my friend Becky and I took a mini-road trip to Carlsbad Caverns in southern New Mexico. While tent camping at nearby Guadalupe National Park, I saw my first Teardrop trailer being towed by a Subaru. I pestered the couple for a tour and walked away convinced that I needed my very own Teardrop. For some time, I had been casting about for the next iteration of my life on the road. After 7 years of living out of my car in between housesitting gigs, I was craving some personal space, but I wasn’t willing to settle in one place. The teardrop was the perfect solution!

For the next few weeks, I was a woman obsessed: I researched Teardrops, got a tow-hitch installed on my Subaru and scoured Craigslist and all manner of online Teardrop trailer forums before I found a classified ad on Teardrops.net for a homemade Teardrop for sale in Lincoln, Nebraska. This Teardrop was different. Instead of just having a bed inside, it had a little extra space:  a full-sized bed with a memory foam mattress and storage space underneath, a fold-up table, two feet of floor space, drawers, cabinets, counter space and a pop-up skylight and a slide-out kitchen/galley area with plenty of storage space for pots, pans and food and a propane burner for cooking.

My Teardrop at the Garden of the Gods

My Teardrop at the Garden of the Gods

This Teardrop was more than just somewhere for me to sleep, this was a place for me to live and work on the road! I emailed the seller and he responded with a slew of questions about my background and my lifestyle. Apparently, I wasn’t interviewing this man about his Teardrop, he was interviewing me for the privilege of buying it! Later, Egon told me he had several dozen inquiries, but he decided, based on those first few emails, that I was the right person. I’ve been thanking my lucky stars ever since.

I’ve been a proud Teardrop owner for a year now and I’m as thrilled with Egon’s creation today as I was last March. In the past year, “The Raven & the Rattler”, the dogs and I have been to 31 states, including my 50th: Alaska, and four Canadian Provinces. In celebration of my one-year Teardrop anniversary, here are a bunch of my favorite photos of the Raven & the Rattler all over North America. In chronological order, more or less:

Life Elevated, Indeed!

Life Elevated, Indeed!

Capitol Reef National Park, Utah

Capitol Reef National Park, Utah

Trading Post Teardrop near Mesa Verde, Colorado

Trading Post Teardrop near Mesa Verde, Colorado

At the "North Pole!"

At the “North Pole!”

Pawnee National Grasslands in eastern Colorado

Pawnee National Grasslands in eastern Colorado

Vedauwoo Rocks, Wyoming, after getting my solar panel installed

Vedauwoo Rocks, Wyoming, after getting my solar panel installed

On the road to Butch Cassidy's Outlaw Cave in eastern Wyoming

On the road to Butch Cassidy’s Outlaw Cave in eastern Wyoming

Dinosaur National Monument!

Dinosaur National Monument!

One of my favorite free campsites of the summer near Cedar Breaks, Utah

One of my favorite free campsites of the summer near Cedar Breaks, Utah

Welcome to Nevada! One of my all-time favorite driving states.

Welcome to Nevada! One of my all-time favorite driving states.

Highway 50: the Loneliest Road in America!

Highway 50: the Loneliest Road in America!

Main Street in Eureka, Nevada

Main Street in Eureka, Nevada

Teardrop Meets the Pacific

Teardrop Meets the Pacific

Kickin in on California's Lost Coast

Kickin’ it on California’s Lost Coast

Welcome to Oregon!

Welcome to Oregon!

Mount Hood!

Mount Hood!

Oregon Lava Fields

Oregon Lava Fields

Boondocking by Mount Saint Helens

Boondocking by Mount Saint Helens

Mount Rainier Drive-By

Mount Rainier Drive-By

Into Canada! Heading North to Alaska!

Into Canada! Heading North to Alaska!

The Center of British Columbia

Vanderhoof: The Geographical Center of British Columbia

Driving the Alaskan Highway!

Driving the Alaskan Highway!

Outside the General Store in Hyder, Alaska

Outside the General Store in Hyder, Alaska

Boondocking by the Salmon Glacier on the border of BC and Alaska

Boondocking by the Salmon Glacier on the border of BC and Alaska

The Yukon's Signpost Forest

The Yukon’s Signpost Forest

Welcome back to the USA!

Welcome back to the USA!

Crossing Montana

Crossing Montana

Into North Dakota

Into North Dakota

North Dakota Sunflowers!

North Dakota Sunflowers!

Petrified Wood Park in Lemon, South Dakota

World’s Largest Petrified Wood Park in Lemon, South Dakota

Cruising through the Badlands

Cruising through the Badlands

A stopover in Egon's Teardrop workshop for upgrades and minor repairs after our summer on the road!

A stopover in Egon’s Teardrop workshop for upgrades and minor repairs after our summer on the road!

Visiting my 5th Great Lake: Ontario!

Visiting my 5th Great Lake: Ontario!

First Snow, in Vermont

Teardrop’s First Snow, in Vermont

The Teardrop's Winter Berth in Strasburg, Pennsylvania

The Teardrop’s Winter Berth in Strasburg, Pennsylvania

Back East on the Blue Ridge Parkway

Back East on the Blue Ridge Parkway

Paris, Tennessee

Paris, Tennessee

Camping in Kansas

Camping in Kansas

Return to New Mexico!

Return to New Mexico!

For more info on my Teardrop check out my previous posts: A Teardrop Is Born, My Teardrop on the Tiny House Blog and also my video-tour of the Rattler. Stay tuned for another summer on the road!

Posted in Beyond the USA, Bowie & D.O.G., Hiking!, New Mexico, Photography, Road tripping!, Sustainable Living, Teardrop Trailer, Uncategorized, Vagabonding 101 | Tagged , , | 20 Comments

Not All Blogs That Wander Are Lost

Trees older than the written word in the California Sierras

A tree older than the written word in the California Sierras

My, how time flies! I’ve now been writing the Blonde Coyote blog for almost two years and after more than 360 posts, I’m in no danger of running out of places to go or things to say. This blog has proved the perfect venue for combining my loves for writing, photography and travel and I have no plans to slow down any time soon!

I’m always scheming and lately, I’ve been thinking about how this blog should evolve in the coming year and I’ve decided it needs to wander more, through both chronological time and geographical space.

I visitied Walden Pond in 2010 and still haven't gotten around to writing about it on the Blonde Coyote!

Thoreau’s Cabin Site! I visited Walden Pond in 2010 and still haven’t gotten around to writing about it on the Blonde Coyote!

Over the past year, my posts have been pretty linear: from buying my Teardrop trailer last March to test driving it through Utah, and along the spine of the Rockies to Wyoming, then West across Nevada to California, up the coast, then up the Cascades to British Columbia, from there to Alaska, back south through the Canadian Rockies, across the Great Plains to spend leaf season on the Appalachian Trail in Virginia, then up to Vermont via Niagara Falls, my 5th Great Lake and the Adirondacks, all the way South through the Florida Everglades to Key West and then across the country again, back to New Mexico. It’s been quite the year!

The Shipwreck Coast of Lake Superior in 2010.

The Shipwreck Coast of Lake Superior in 2010.

Now, hang on tight, because we’re veering off course! I’ve been writing this blog for almost two years, but I’ve been living on the road for about seven years and I have a huge reservoir of photos and stories from places that have yet to make an appearance on the Blonde Coyote, either because I visited before June 2011 or I didn’t have the time, energy or inclination to write about them along the way: the world’s only public diamond mine in Murfreesboro, Arkansas, the Center of the Universe aka NYC, winter on the coast of Maine, the Devil’s Tower in Wyoming, I could go on and on!

Self Portrait at the Devil's Tower last summer.

Self Portrait at the Devil’s Tower last summer.

I’ll still have some timely updates along the way: right now I’m in New Mexico and earlier this week, I went goat herding on horseback so stay tuned for a post on the Horned Locusts! I’ll be in the Land of Enchantment for a couple of weeks, then I’m going to the Grand Canyon, then spring in Utah, then summer in the Rockies and then fall in Ireland and Scotland! It’s gonna be another great year!

Welcome to the Wild West!

Welcome back to the Wild West!

Thanks to everybody who follows the Blonde Coyote! My mission in life is to see and experience as much of this Earth as possible and I’m thrilled to have so many enthusiastic and encouraging readers along for the ride. I hope I’ve inspired all of you to get out and explore your own corners of this awesome planet. If you have any regional or location requests, please let me know! I’ve been hiking and road tripping in all 50 states and if you’re looking for some place interesting, I probably have some ideas!

Chilling at the Cape Cod Dune Shack, also on my to-write list!

Chilling at my Cape Cod Dune Shack, also on my to-write list!

Want to support the Blonde Coyote? Buy a print! All of my photos are fair game and very reasonably priced. Contact me at theblondecoyote@gmail.com.

Posted in Appalachian Trail, Beyond the USA, Bowie & D.O.G., Cowboys & Horses, Hiking!, New Mexico, Photography, Road tripping!, Sustainable Living, Teardrop Trailer, Uncategorized, Vagabonding 101 | 25 Comments

Life With Bowie

So true.

Yep, that’s about right.

And here he comes!

And here he comes!

Posted in Bowie & D.O.G., Hiking!, Photography, Uncategorized | Tagged | 5 Comments