SAVING GRAND STAIRCASE
We left at 5:30 a.m., passing a bobcat before sunrise in Mojave Trails National Monument, to make it to Escalante’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument Inter-agency Visitor Center before closing. We made it, and, still shaking from nine hours on the highway, I rehearsed my planned series of micro-actions that would settle me into this vast landscape I’d wanted to explore since I first saw it miles beyond the Bryce amphitheater.
I’d heard that the rangers at the visitor center were crusty and unhelpful. Ever since the national monument’s boundaries were nominally reduced, along with most of the park staff, rangers allegedly took a “figure it out for yourself” attitude toward the many hidden gems in the park. I prepared to negotiate.
Happily, my designated forest service employee was a kindly, talkative older gentleman with the bearing of a slightly svelter Kris Kringle. I mentioned that I planned to camp in Lower Calf Creek Falls, but he advised that Escalante’s Petrified Forest State Park would be warmer, with more amenities. Lower Calf Creek Falls was already winterized, with no water, meaning no flush toilets. Always one to plan the dive and dive the plan, with unparalleled pit toilet experience and utmost faith in my Accuweather research, I brushed that suggestion off, and moved on to my gem-hunting itinerary. (Where the Rocks Turn Red)
I’d heard that the rangers at the visitor center were crusty and unhelpful. Ever since the national monument’s boundaries were nominally reduced, along with most of the park staff, rangers allegedly took a “figure it out for yourself” attitude toward the many hidden gems in the park. I prepared to negotiate.
Happily, my designated forest service employee was a kindly, talkative older gentleman with the bearing of a slightly svelter Kris Kringle. I mentioned that I planned to camp in Lower Calf Creek Falls, but he advised that Escalante’s Petrified Forest State Park would be warmer, with more amenities. Lower Calf Creek Falls was already winterized, with no water, meaning no flush toilets. Always one to plan the dive and dive the plan, with unparalleled pit toilet experience and utmost faith in my Accuweather research, I brushed that suggestion off, and moved on to my gem-hunting itinerary. (Where the Rocks Turn Red)
LANDSCAPE AND ABSTRACT ART IN YELLOWSTONE
She who dares… what, exactly?
I mulled this over for a couple slow-going miles on cross-country skis, singing and stopping frequently to announce my presence to the local critters. Contrary to my plan, I was the only one skiing to Tower Falls this early March day, and the grizzly boars had just woken up.
Wins. “She who dares wins,” was the phrase. But didn’t that leave out too much of life’s sexy nuance? (She Who Dares)
I mulled this over for a couple slow-going miles on cross-country skis, singing and stopping frequently to announce my presence to the local critters. Contrary to my plan, I was the only one skiing to Tower Falls this early March day, and the grizzly boars had just woken up.
Wins. “She who dares wins,” was the phrase. But didn’t that leave out too much of life’s sexy nuance? (She Who Dares)
MOVING TO THE MOJAVE
Sasha, born a true desert dog, has established herself as a queen of the highest point on our property. That is her perch of choice from which she presides over our territory. Sasha’s perch is also where I watch the sunsets. I put a bench on the back patio, a bench on the front patio, but no place beats chasing orange flares across the sky like the highest point on the lot. (The 360 Sunset Dance)