Photo Friday: Arches National Park

While I'm busy traveling in Patagonia... I'm sharing some photos from a very different landscape, from last October! I shared photos from the first two parts of that trip here, and here (and I see I never  finished talking about the New England part of the trip). In the middle of October, we left the fall colors and flew to Denver (where we’d left our car), and continued the trip, meeting my husband’s brother and sister-in-law in Moab.

Highlight number 1 was Arches National Park. The low-light was that after all the mountain climbing in the first two parts of the trip, I had to back way off my injured foot, so my SiL and I did some nice short and easy hikes while the guys did the big ones (yes, I was envious).

Arches gets over a million visitors a year these days, which puts a lot of stress on the infrastructure (like the one road...). We dodged that by getting up and leaving our campground near Moab very, very early, and enjoying the best hours of the day in the park.

Ready to hit the road before sun-up. Our car is looking rather small these days!

The guys dropped us off and left the car so we could do a 1-mile one-way hike down through some of the formations as the sun hit (“Park Avenue” trail).

Sandstone colors and textures are endlessly fascinating, at least to me. Even without arches, Arches would be worth seeing for that.

Casting around for something to see without hurting my foot, we found Sand Dune Arch, which I hadn’t ever visited (probably because it’s so close to the road...). Love the dead or near-dead junipers against the red rock.

Carol and I were rewarded for both our patience in not doing the bigger hikes, and our diligence in trying to track down arches we hadn’t seen—we stumbled on a small, hand-written sign announcing 3 sites available in the park campground. As these sites much be reserved 6 months or more in advance, we’d never camped there! We nabbed one of the sites, and settled in to enjoy ourselves. Nothing like dinner with a view!

A sort of shepherd's pie thing, only without meat.

Being October, it was warm in the sun, cool in the shade, and still pleasant to go out after dinner for a couple more arches, easily walked to from camp.

Tapestery Arch in the late sun

We were able to walk right in under the arch and look up...

The second arch we almost missed--Skyline Arch, visible from the road and the campground, but accessible from the campground.

I don't usually do selfies, except to see if I've combed my hair. But this was kind of cool.

The next morning, my husband and I got up early to walk to Landscape Arch for sunrise.

Moonset. Or maybe it was moonrise the night before.

 Only one other photographer took the effort to get to the arch for the magic hour. Admittedly, it was made a lot easier by being in the campground, a quarter mile from the trailhead!

We stopped on the walk back to take a look at Pine Tree Arch, which is really nice.

I liked the shadows of the trees (junipers, really) on the sandstone.

 

Catch you the next time I have an adequate wi-fin connection!

The author (left) with my sister-in-law.

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2020
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated!

Photo Friday: Biking the Marin and Sonoma Coast

A few weeks ago I joined a couple of backpacking friends (Zeke and Walt) for a bike trip up the Marin and Sonoma coastline in California (yeah, a bunch of backpackers on bikes. It happens). The weather cooperated, mostly, and we had a great time. Not an epic ride in terms of miles covered, but enough to see some country and plenty of hills for my flat-lander companions!

Here are a few photos to share the fun.

One of the fun things was that we got to start riding right from my house (this did mean that most of the trip was routes I'd ridden before, but they are worth repeating). The first day's highlight was crossing the Golden Gate Bridge.

Looks like the railing on this side is due for painting!

South Tower

Moving on into Marin, we had to climb a long way up to our campsite at Pantoll on Mt. Tamalpais. A little humor helped to keep us going. Temperatures that day were warm, and a bit humid (most of CA was absolutely baking, so we were actually in a good place), which made the climb harder than it needed to be.

"When you come to a fork in the road, take it." Or just enjoy it.

Sometimes there are a lot of turkeys hanging out and making noise in campgrounds. We did consider supplementing our protein, but Zeke, in charge of food, had brought plenty, so we let these guys go on gobbling.

 That night we walked out the Coastal Trail on the shoulder of Mt. Tam to enjoy views of Stinson Beach and Bolinas Lagoon at sunset. The full moon was rising behind us as we enjoyed the evening show.

I was glad we'd enjoyed the evening view, because next morning the fog moved in. It was beautiful in camp in the morning.

 The fog was beautiful in another way as we rode through it, though it was disconcerting as in places visibility was reduced to a few dozen yards. And it was frustrating to know that there were stunning views of the ocean if we could only see them!

Bikers in the mist. We were running our flashers, but fortunately it is also a road with few cars on a weekday morning; I don't think a single car passed us on our  ride through the mist.

 We spent the next two nights at Samuel P. Taylor State Park, which gave us access to ride out Pt. Reyes. Since the lighthouse was closed to tours on the day we were there (research fail!), we chose to visit Drake's Beach and enjoy a picnic on the edge of the fog. It's a marvelous ride either way.

Lichen-draped trees along the road.

 Drakes Beach clearly gets a lot of use on sunny weekends, but on a foggy Thursday, it was all ours. The receding tide left kelp lying about in interesting patterns on the sand.

 In a theme some of my readers may remember, I had to photograph, mourn, and pack out the inevitable balloon. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: DO NOT release balloons! Of course, this was probably an unintentional release, but still. Maybe think twice about helium balloons at all.

The next day the sun came back out for real, and we enjoyed a beautiful ride up Tomales Bay and through rural Sonoma County to Bodega Bay. There are lots of seafood restaurants along Tomales Bay.

I liked this old guy.

 In case you don't want seafood, this shed lets you know that there's something else cooking inside.

In the calm near the mouth, we could see that there was still fog right on the coast.

Climbing away from Tomales Bay, we hit the town of Tomales just in time for lunch. The bakery was a nice discovery. What's the good of biking all day if you can't enjoy a nice brownie for lunch?

Walt and Zeke nearly ready to roll again.

We hit the fog just as we pulled into Bodega Bay at the end of the longest day. Camp felt cold and windy and uninviting right on the shore, so we went into town to eat. But just before bed, the fog lifted a little.

Bodega Bay by night.

 Our final day served up a mix of sun and fog--typical coastal weather--as we headed north through Jenner and on to Stillwater Cove County Park.

Sometimes it doesn't feel safe to stop and wait. This guy watched a long time to see if I was dead.

 Jenner, at the mouth of the Russian River, is a favorite snack stop, though this time it was too early for lunch and we merely enjoyed the views for a few minutes.

Rental kayaks hoping for sun and adventurous tourists.

We made it to camp in the end, and watched a beautiful sunset from the cove.

Stillwater Cove marked the official end of the ride, though my husband (who joined us in Bodega Bay) and I did a short ride the next morning. We piled into a couple of cars (we had one along the whole way, Zeke's wife driving our gear from camp to camp, and my husband brought one up) to head back home. On the way, we stopped at Ft. Ross State Park, to check out the reconstruction of the southernmost Russian settlement in what is now the US.

Watch tower.

The chapel, Russian Orthodox style, mostly.

About 80% of the people checking out the chapel had to tap the bell, which could be heard all over, even if you just used your knuckles.

Have to ask my kid what the inscription says.

The place was meant mainly to grow food for the Alaskan outposts (it didn't really succeed), but there are reminders it was also a fort, and they were prepared to defend themselves against the Spanish or the English at need.

One final spectacular view on our way back home.

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2017
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated!

Monday flash non-fiction

Yes, it's summer and my posts are a little messed up with vacations. So I missed the last couple of Friday flash fiction posts, and now I'm writing a bit of non-fiction for a Monday! Bear with me, okay? In any case, the "flash" part of it is apropos. In 360 words:

Fear and Trembling in a Tent

It is midnight in the Sierra Nevada mountains, and suddenly we are not sleeping. The weather was pleasant when we went to bed, and two days of hard hiking made it easy to drop off. I wouldn’t have been surprised had I slept soundly all night.

Thor and Odin and the crew have a different idea. The first boom of thunder—if it was the first; it was the first I woke to hear—is loud and close. The flashes of lightning sear the retina even with the eyes closed. We count off the seconds between flash and boom. Do the math. Two miles. One. Half a mile. A quarter. Then: holy shit it’s in the tent!

It isn’t. The mind knows that, because the mind is still there to think about it. But when the gap between lightning and thunder drops to near zero, and the ground shakes with the booming air, the mind is given very little say in my reactions. The gut takes over.

I am not scared of thunder. We are camped below tree line, well back from the lake and not atop anything, in the trees but not near a particularly tall tree. Even with the storm right atop us we are reasonably safe. As a general rule, I like thunderstorms.

And yet. My gut is haunted by the memory of a friend who died under a fallen tree, asleep—we can only hope—in his hammock. This isn’t at all the same thing; the wind is oddly light, though the same can’t be said of the rain. Some of it might be hail, but I’m not looking out to see. And if a tree has my name on it…there is nothing to be done now.

The storm is moving away. Because we are among big peaks and big canyons, the thunder continues to echo ominously even as it moves on. Eventually I drift off again, when the flashes no longer burn my vision.

Every time I wake up to roll over or adjust my sleeping bag, I can hear thunder, however distant. The storms go on all night, but I sleep anyway.

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2015

Book Review: Camping for Kids

  Today's kid-lit review is non-fiction.  Camping for Kids, by Melanie A. Howard, part of the "Into the Great Outdoors" series from Edge Books.  30 pages, early to middle grades (?).

I stumbled on this book while sorting books at the library, and thought I should take a look, as we have been taking our kids camping, hiking, and backpacking since they were babies.  I should note, however, that this is not a how-to for parents, but more of an introduction to concepts for the kids in five brief chapters. 

The first chapter, "Out in the Wild," offers a brief summary of why people camp and the history of camping for pleasure in the U.S. (interestingly, some people were camping for fun while others were still walking behind their wagons and camping because that was the only way to get from Point A to Point B).  A final paragraph mentions various approaches to camping: bike camping, RVs, boating or hiking.  My only real problem with this chapter is that the lovely opening picture spread shows a tent on a sort of sandspit sticking out into a lake--definitely NOT an acceptable campsite (which should always be at least 100 feet from water, preferably 200 feet).

Chapter Two, "Packed up and Ready to Go," talks a little about essentials, tents, sleeping bags and backpacks.  It discusses water treatments, and finishes with car and RV camping extras.  My reaction to this was that it couldn't make up it's mind if it was for kids or parents.  As a general rule, it is not the children who are making decisions about things like water treatment, type of sleeping bag, or tent purchases, though it helps if the kids understand why they have or do certain things.

Chapter Three, "From Bear Bags to Bandages," covers exactly that, plus fire safety.  Again, I think the focus is off.  For children, it is less important to know that they should hang the food 100 yards from camp than to know that they should NEVER keep food in the tent.  The discussion of fire safety is more on target, as kids are the ones most likely to be paying attention to the fire.  I think it might not hurt to mention that care should be taken when "tending" the fire, based on the things my boys have thought of to do with fires over the years.  On first aid--advising children to "take a first-aid class before your trip" seems completely off, since few such courses would even accept children young enough to be reading this book.

Chapter Four is "We're Here.  Now What?"  This chapter offers a few nice suggestions about what you might do in and around camp, helpful for those who've never been outdoors enough to figure it out for themselves.

The final chapter, "Leave No Trace,"  outlines a few basic Leave No Trace (LNT) principles, like leaving no trash, camping on durable surfaces, and not taking anything from the wilderness.

My take on the book is that it can't make up it's mind what it's doing.  The writing is very simplistic, as for kids in about grade 3-5.  But the content deals at least half the time with matters that such children would not be managing.  Perhaps it's meant to give kids the info they need to get their parents to learn enough to take them camping?  If I were to write the book, I have to say that my focus would be more on showing kids why they want to go, and how to be safe and happy, using the gear their parents provide--tips like "bring a small favorite stuffy" will probably do more to help a child have a good sleep in the backcountry than a learned debate on the merits of down vs. synthetic sleeping bags.

2.5 stars

*********

 Here's the other result of my reaction to this book.  Many years ago I put together a little picture book and shared it with my friends.  I called it A is for Alpine, An Alphabet Book for Little Hikers.  After reading this "kids' camping guide," I have decided to dust off the alphabet, upload to Smashwords, and offer the book for 99 cents to anyone who wishes to have something to share with small children who may be camping for backpacking for the first time.  It doesn't do the same thing as Camping for Kids, exactly, and while maybe it's not brilliant,  I think it will help little ones and their parents get excited about getting outdoors.  Plus: pretty pictures, all from real packtrips we've taken with our real kids.  Who really don't care what their sleeping bags are made of as long as they are warm, and get candy.

I'll even put up the paperback on Amazon, though I sadly have to charge more for that, due to printing costs for color pages.

So watch this space for more information about A is for Alpine, and happy hiking!

I've put it up--still fussing with some issues, but it's on Smashwords now, for 99 cents, and will soon be available as a paperback at Amazon for $6.99!