I put my BMW MOA mileage contest forms in the mail a few days ago. I almost didn’t send them in at all. My riding mileage for the 2020–2021 contest season is abysmal. Embarrassing even.
In a “normal” year, I’d clock anywhere from 10–15 thousand miles. That’s fairly modest in the scheme of the mileage many BMW riders log in the contest. But I still like participating in it even though I’m not really a contender for the top slots. Since I wanted to enter for the upcoming season, I figured I’m if sending in my start form, I might as well send in last season’s end form as well. As heartbreaking as it is.
The new gear I got late last year? Yeah, it’s still clean.Even Toby was feeling the lack of throttle therapy time with the sidecar left storage.
So what gives?
Going full-time combined with the pandemic has been the perfect storm to derail my saddle time. I couldn’t have planned it better if I tried. Between our own logistical struggles and the pandemic fallout that has changed everything in complex, mind-boggling ways, we’ve struggled to carve out significant time to do the fun stuff.
Plus, we’re working really hard right now. Running multiple websites, online stores, and my work on a non-profit board is well beyond a full-time job.
J at camp, working away.Not exactly the kind of saddle time I’d like to be having. But the pizza definitely tasted better sitting on the bike.
Dagger to the heart
Once we were back on the road after the shutdown and it felt ok enough to ride again, we took the GS with us instead of the sidecar outfit. I did some follow-along-on-transit-days rides while J towed, plus a few other short rides in our stationary time.
We found ourselves at Wild Horse State Recreation Area for a couple of weeks over the Independence Day holiday. On that visit, we had a nice chat with the park ranger about riding. He recommended some routes in the area.
When we returned to the park a couple of months later, he stopped by and asked if I’d done any of the rides. I had to sheepishly admit I hadn’t, reminding him we aren’t on vacation. We work from the road.
“So it’s just a really nice campsite ornament then?” he asked, glancing toward my bike.
Yet that was seven months ago. And we’re still struggling to get the seat time we need to feel like we’re living our best lives.
Riding along with the rig on our way out of Great Basin National Park.
Solutions
We know we need to make some changes and we’re working on them as best we can in still-uncertain times. As little riding time as I’ve had, J has had even less with us leaving his bike behind in storage while we’re on the road. We’re not good with that.
We’ve spent many a happy hour lately soul-searching about what we want moving forward. And we have to do that in the context of the state of the world today which is like another universe from when we set out on the road.
It’s definitely time to get our shit together and fix this problem.
I pulled into the campsite completely stoked. We’d scored a fabulous site on a busy holiday weekend. It was my first camping trip with George in years. In fact, it was our first-ever camping trip with just the two of us. It was also my first car-camping trip since moving to Nevada. My camping systems were in complete disarray from the move but I trusted my years of experience to carry me through. After several days of urban exploring in Portland on the first leg of this trip, I was beyond ready for some outdoor therapy.
So I hopped out of the car and chucked the monster-sized family camping tent out onto the ground. I began throwing it together from pure muscle memory. It was just like riding a bike. I was ecstatic to be camping with George again.
He was busy unloading the rest of the gear when he heard my string of f-bombs. He didn’t bat an eyelash. That’s just a normal day with mom. Until I started adding in some further embellishments. He gave me his quizzical look.
“I forgot the fucking tent stakes.”
Turns out it was not the only thing I forgot, just potentially the most crucial. Yep. My “years of experience” had failed me.
Imagine my f-bombs ringing across Diamond Lake when I realized I forgot to bring the tent stakes.
So on the plus side, the more we maintain and build our skills, the better we become, and our confidence soars. Our comfort zones blossom with the mastery of those skills. That leads us on the path to do, learn, and achieve more. It’s the cycle of success that makes you feel like a magical fucking unicorn.
At one time, I totally knew my outdoor shit. So much so, it was my path to recovery after a near-fatal crash.
The flip side
The things I love to do require some expertise to do well: motorcycling, hiking, camping, photography. And in most of them, there can be very unfortunate consequences if I don’t do them well. If my skills deteriorate, my risk factors increase.
And damn it if those skills don’t disappear like a whistle in the wind when you put them on the shelf. Often without you realizing it.
As 2018 winds down, I find myself more and more philosophical about how much my travel life has changed over the last few years. Change doesn’t bother me. I learned long ago to embrace its benefits. Most of the time it isn’t better or worse, just different. In my case, wonderful travels have morphed into different wonderful travels. No harm no foul, right?
Yes and no. Mostly yes. Certainly I’ve built savviness in other areas of my adventurous life. That’s good. The difficulty is losing grip on things I still love to do but haven’t been doing. Even if I don’t do them as often, I still want to do them. Tragically, by not doing them enough or at all, I’ve created a negative feedback loop. The flabby, sinister step-monster of the gorgeously muscled unicorn of success.
Utterly inadequate sun protection and water supply for a day on Lake Tahoe was just one of my “winning” moments this year.
Facing failures
As a life philosophy, I’m not a collector of hobbies. Not that I haven’t had many come and go over the years but, at any given time, I prefer to be better at a few things than a novice at many. So to maintain my tenacity and focus I tend to keep my suite of current pursuits trimmed down. Motorcycling, photography, travel, outdoor adventures, those are my core endeavors. Yet even though I work to make them my lifestyle, something beyond hobbies, I still struggle. My dabblings in some of these efforts of late haven’t been enough to keep my skills and processes well-honed.
I’ve talked about my failings in photography and my languishing solo travel skills recently but really the main victim of my life changes has been my outdoor skills. My attempts to get outside to camp and hike this year have been absurd. Mistakes and lack of preparedness worthy of a total noob have marred my efforts. That’s how good trips go bad. And it’s all completely avoidable.
We’re talking utterly stupid things like the tent stake incident, neglecting to pack adequate water and sun protection and getting us roasted and dehydrated on Lake Tahoe, and making sure my stove is working properly so I can brew the elixir of life at camp in the morning. And now I’m almost a year late for my Wilderness First Aid recertification. Getting back out there has become daunting. My mistakes and deferred skills maintenance have allowed the ugly monster of self-doubt to saddle up on my unicorn.
It’s time to get my shit together. I’m mad enough at myself to fix this, and it is fixable. I’ll kick the ugly monster of entropy off and be a fucking badass outdoor adventure unicorn running free again in the coming year. It’s a matter of deciding how much of the adventure pie I want each area to consume and putting plans in place to make it happen.
And in case you’re wondering about the tent stake snafu, I got lucky. It ended up being a small goof. There was no wind and it’s a free-standing tent design so we were able to camp without much MacGuyvering. It was dumb luck, but luck no less. But that’s not something to rely on in life, especially one lived adventurously.
I awoke reluctantly, submerged in pure white linens and the cushy softness of hotel pillows. I was wrapped in comfort. My eyes took in the dim light as my brain tried to recollect where I was. After five days on the road, disorientation began to set in each morning. You know the feeling—coming out of sleep bewildered by unfamiliar surroundings. Oh yes, I remember now. We stopped in Visalia last night but it wasn’t our goal. That’s how the day played out on this April Escape mini-trip, though.
Still sluggish but gathering some coherence, I began to picture the day ahead. I was determined to get back to camping. The comfort and luxury of a hotel room is marvelous, of course, but that wasn’t what I set out for on this trip. I was fixated on the luxury of sleeping under the moonlight, immersed in the sounds and smells of the outdoors.
That motivation drove me out of bed earlier than usual. I took advantage of the hotel suite to spread out and do some yoga before another muscle-stiffening day on two wheels. Over breakfast, I scoured my campground app for options. We would move towards the Groveland-ish area where there are several campgrounds that might work.
Day 6
Day – Visalia, CA to Friant, CA
Mileage: 115
Route: CA 198, CA 216, CA 63, CA 180, CA 168, N Friant Rd, North Fork Rd/CA 206, CA 145
Setting out:
We set out from downtown Visalia, refreshed from showers and a good night’s sleep. We also set out thinking we knew Visalia’s roads better than we did. Riding back out the way we came in, we didn’t realize we’d missed our route north until we were way off course. There were moments of conversation between us in our headsets, as you can imagine. “Hmmm… shouldn’t we have made that turn by now?” and “This doesn’t seem quite right.” Clearly we weren’t as awake as we thought, since we continued on in the wrong direction.
Eventually we stopped to regroup. Sure enough we were already way off. No matter. We embrace the surprise discoveries that unexpected detours can reveal. This case was no different. Looping back to catch our intended path, we rode through grove after grove of orange trees. The blossoms filled the air with their thick scent, so sweet it was nearly overwhelming. Bees filled the air as well, smacking into our arms and chests as we rode.
Deciding on an end game for the day:
It was an excellent ride but slow going with lots of farm equipment using the roads to move between the orange groves. The detour to get out of town cost us time. Getting to Groveland would be a stretch. And we didn’t need or want to push hard on this trip.
By the time we descended from the foothills back into the valley we were tired. We’d been riding non-stop and needed a rest. We kept riding through to Clovis, looking for a one-stop solution for lunch, fuel, and camping rations. We eventually found it but not before getting wrapped up in aggressive Clovis traffic.
Over lunch, we rethought our plans and found a new camping destination not far from Clovis. We pushed on to Millerton Lake State Recreation Area. I had managed our navigation for most of the day as fatigue beset my dear man. Now it was my turn to be cared for. I was cooked. Looping around and around the campground to find an agreeable hammock camping site was about to push me over the edge into full-on “fuck this” mode. We were tired and decisions became an ordeal. So he took the lead and stopped to chat with the campground host, Shirtless Steve.
That worked out well. Steve pointed us to the sites best suited for our gear and protection from the evening winds. We chose a site from the few he recommended and it turned out to be one of the best campsites I’ve ever had. It overlooked the lake with trees ideal for hanging our hammocks right next to one another. And because it was the middle of the week in off-peak season, the campground was nearly empty. It was glorious.
Problem-solving, MacGyver style
Camp setup was fairly simple and we were soon only concerned with how to chill beer and wine in the cool lake water. The wave action precluded simply setting them at the water’s edge as they would quickly drift away. We needed to get creative with a bit of MacGuyvering. With my dear man’s Rok Straps and a hastily emptied Eagle Creek packing cube, I had my solution in short order. We would have passably chilled beverages with our dinner.
For all of our foibles that day we ended having one of the best camping nights ever. I felt light and free. I set up my camera for a time lapse over the lake, something I haven’t done in ages. We embraced sleep nestled closely together in our hanging cradles. In all of our travels, this was our first night ever camping off the motorcycles together. And it was amazing.
Cool stuff:
Fort Miller Campground at Millerton Lake State Recreation Area, Friant. This is a gem of a campground, especially if you can catch it when it isn’t busy.
The ride into Millerton Lake State Recreation Area.
A subtle sunset over the lake.
My dear Evie looking stately at camp.
Cozy hammock campers.
Mood lighting at camp. Yes, that’s my travel whiskey flask.
Our “glamorous” camp dinner.
Our cozy hammock camping set up.
MacGuyvering an adult beverage cooling system with Rok Straps and and Eagle Creek packing cube.
I love this campsite so much!
Day 7
Day 7 – Friant, CA to Sonora, CA
Mileage: 148
Route: CA 145, Rd 211, CA 200, CA 41, CA 140, CA 120, CA 49
Camp exit:
We packed up camp slowly, taking in the scenery before we left and basking in the delight of our time at Millerton Lake. But it wasn’t long before we were under attack. Resident Columbia ground squirrels had their sights set on our food. And they were clever little boogers. They worked together, distracting us on one side of camp by initiating a chase while others snuck in from behind to boldly jump into our gear in pursuit of a yummy treasure. Even when we caught on, they circled, waiting for us to drop our guard so they could run their next gambit.
It was exhausting and certainly evaporated our desire to linger. They were clearly better at this game than we were. I had a lengthy inner-rant about the campers who feed these animals and/or don’t keep their food secure. The squirrels are not at fault; they are simply going for the easy meal they’ve learned exists around humans.
The internal rant faded as we finished packing and set out to ride again. I left with some sadness knowing this would be the last camping night of this trip. But Yosemite was ahead. We wouldn’t stay there but we would ride into the valley, have lunch, and soak in the majesty. Amidst the traffic, of course. You have to accept that if you want to visit a marquis-level national park.
Bring on Sonora:
Yosemite Valley was as stunning, as always. Then it was time to move on. One of the only plans we made on this trip was for our last night to be in Sonora. We wanted to revisit the fabulous Bourbon Barrel whiskey bar to cap off our adventure.
We didn’t make a reservation at our favorite hotel, The Sonora Inn, until we arrived in town. That’s typical for us—a safety net in case we don’t get as far as we planned on any given day. The Sonora Inn is a wonderful historic hotel. And it has its quirks because of its historic nature. So when I called and was told the elevator was out of service, I was not only unsurprised, it was a non-issue. It’s not fun hauling all of our gear up stairs but not a deal breaker. The desk clerk asked if I wanted second or third floor. Under the circumstances, that answer was clear, “Second floor, please.”.
Oh, silly Val! You forgot this isn’t a “normal” hotel. The Sonora Inn has wonky floor levels. We were assigned a room on an odd half-floor. We had to schlep our bags from the back parking lot to the front of the hotel, up the stairs, then to the back of the hotel, and back down the “half-level” of circular stairs to our room. It was a fucking expedition. Had I chosen the third floor, life would have been much less exhausting. Not fewer stairs, but less distance and easier going. Lesson learned for the next time in Sonora!
Surprise in Sonora:
The next issue? Fuck me if the Bourbon Barrel wasn’t closed for a construction project. It was one of our main reasons for returning to Sonora. But we’re flexible travelers, right? So we moved on in hopes of finding a new experience in Sonora. We found it at Emberz, thanks to an excellent bartender. As we often do, we enjoyed a leisurely tapas-style dinner at the bar.
A couple of cocktails into the evening, a rather animated woman sat down next to us. We often chat with our bar-mates on the road but this one was more memorable than others. The evening transmuted into a counseling session about her boyfriend woes. Therapist Val was in order, it seemed. I hope I was helpful. She’s a nice lady, her situation unenviable and both parties have a lot of issues. We wandered out of the restaurant many hours later a bit shell shocked for the experience but all the more grateful for our healthy relationship.
Cool stuff:
Yosemite National Park. Really, what else needs to be said? It’s Yosemite. It’s spectacular.
The Sonora Inn, Sonora. Wonky floors and fussy elevator be damned, I love staying here.
Emberz Wood-Fired Foodz, Sonora. Good food, great bar staff. A nice place to spend an evening in Sonora.
Yosemite. ‘Nuff said.
Exiting Millerton Lake State Recreation Area.
A fellow rider in the ditch. He was ok and help was on the scene but still disconcerting.
Groovy tunnel action in Yosemite.
Riding Yosemite.
Bracing for Clovis traffic.
Stealth squirrels sneaking in for the heist.
A camp interloper.
The streets of Sonora.
Day 8
Day 8 – Sonora, CA to Dayton, NV
Mileage: 161
Route: CA 49, CA 88, Hwy 395, Hwy 50
The road home:
Day 8. Heading home. I’m somewhat notorious for saying home is a four letter word. That was before embracing my amazing life in Nevada with my dear man. While having a home base isn’t necessary for me, what I have now is an incredible sanctuary. Even so, re-entry is a task to be handled carefully. The ride today would be a mental exercise. To shift gears and embrace the next phase of travel. This trip was meant to be an antidote to that. And now it was ending.
Our route on the final day was about getting home. What lay ahead was a familiar ride from Sonora to Dayton along CA 49 and US 88. Familiar doesn’t mean boring, though. After the biggest breakfast in human history at Riderz in Sonora, we set out.
Highway 88 is the southernmost trans-Sierra highway that the state keeps open year round. And even though it was late April, snowbanks clung to the hillside along the route. A reminder that I was far from my lifelong stomping grounds in the southeast.
We rode. Sometimes silent. Sometimes marveling at the sights together by talking through our headsets. There’s always a somberness to the end of a journey, though. Wondering what would happen if you just kept riding, responsibility be damned. We went home, of course, collected the adventure dog from the sitter and returned to our daily life.
Cool stuff:
Riderz Family Restaurant, Sonora. Super nice folks running this little restaurant connected to the Sonora Inn. More food than is humanly possible to eat in one sitting.
Carson Pass. This is a fabulous ride peaking at 8,652 feet. Stop and enjoy the view. It’s worth it.
Caples Lake. It’s glorious when the lake comes into view along Highway 88. Take the time to stop and marvel.
Mad Dog Cafe, Woodfords Station. This little cafe is spitting distance from home and a frequent stop for us on a day ride over Monitor Pass. Stop, grab great food, take your chance on a lottery ticket.
Climbing Carson Pass into chilly elevations
Riding Carson Pass towards home
Ginormous breakfast at Riderz Family Restaurant in Sonora before the last leg home
Thanks for following along on the April Escape series! I hope you found out about some places you’d like to visit. Like I said early on, this trip was about refreshing some of my stagnant travel routines and skills.
I only ended up with two nights of camping which is slightly disappointing. It’s ok, though. I have enough information now to know what I need to refine in my setup. More importantly, I have renewed confidence about getting out on the bike this way. More thoughts on that to come. Stay tuned.
I did it! I was off on my first solo motorcycle trip in over two years. I thought my grin would split my helmet in half as I turned onto Highway 50 from my neighborhood. Relief was a small part of the equation, to be sure. Packing and getting out the door had its challenges. But really it was the pure joy of motorcycle travel that coursed through my body. I basked in the motorcycle traveler’s equivalent of “runner’s high” as I opened Evie up and felt her thrust forward underneath me. Ahead lay endless open road. Looking at the expanse stretching out in front of me, all I saw was possibility.
The solo ride
As I talked about in the first part of this series, it took some orchestration to put this trip together. Timing, weather, and logistics were not as straightforward as I would have liked. But once on the road everything fell into place. Other than a general direction for the first night and knowing I had about eight days to explore, I didn’t have a plan. That’s the beauty of the coddiwomple.
With no plan though, what did I know that shaped the trip you see on the map?
I’d be working around challenging wind and temperatures the entire trip.
I needed to be prepared to have a day off the bike. Depending on how the forecast shaped up, I knew I might have to wait out disagreeable and potentially unsafe riding conditions.
At some point, I’d meet up with my dear man.
I wanted to renew my motorcycle camping skills.
In the end, those factors led me to a sort of circumnavigation of the southern Sierra. Only 1,132 miles but they were glorious. Revisiting some familiar roads and exploring some new ones made for a pleasant mix of comfort and excitement. (PS – the map is interactive if you want to take a closer look. I’ve dropped pins on points of interest. Zoom in to see those.)
Map fun
Here’s the breakdown and highlights by day with some recommendations if you find yourself in these areas.
Day 1
Day 1 – Dayton, NV to Bishop, CA
Miles: 191
Route: US 50, US 95A, NV 339, NV 208, NV 338, US 395
My experience: I headed south towards Bishop, California with the intent of finding a campsite somewhere along the way. I watched the weather shape up through the day. The overnight temperatures in the higher-elevation Forest Service sites along US 395 were going to be a little lower than I was prepared for. With some reluctance I pushed into Bishop and set up shop at an agreeable county park. Still chilly but manageable. It wouldn’t have the peace and quiet I was hoping for but it gained me a few perks like easy access to water.
Getting my moto-camping skills reinvigorated that first night was a bit of a goat rodeo. I’d made a good choice on camp though. A developed front-country site made the transition easier. Fortunately a lot came back to me quickly and I had camp set up in fairly short order. I got reacquainted with my equipment, feeling like a beginner. Things like remembering how to run my camp stove, set up my cot, and how to store my moto gear in my tiny tent.
Access to electricity was a nice bonus. Working at my little computer while bats hunted overhead in the evening was exquisite. I could feel the off-kilter things in my life resetting as I pecked away at my tasks and watched their winged acrobatics, sometimes even feeling them swoop within a few inches of my head.
Cool stuff:
Mono Lake Vista on US 395: If you’re in the area, be sure to stop at the overlook. The view over the lake is spectacular. If you’re approaching from the north, you’ll get a jaw-dropping eyeful of the lake as the view opens up around a big downhill curve.
Browns Millpond Campground: This is a nice little county campground, especially if you need amenities like water, electricity, and showers.
My first moto camp in years!
Being welcomed to camp by bats is a groovy experience.
The view over Mono Lake is well worth a stop. It’s breathtaking.
Day 2
Day 2 – Bishop, CA to Lone Pine, CA
Miles: 68
Route: US 395
My experience: Yep, a very low-mileage day; the lowest of the whole trip. I was relaxed and reveling in my solitude. Dusting off my solo motorcycle travel and camping skills felt amazing. I took the time for a leisurely working breakfast, a stop to refuel, a beef jerky run, and a trip to the auto parts store to pick up a new headlight bulb for Evie.
In between all of these stops, I watched the winds to decide what to take on for Day 2. It was not a favorable day for motorcycling. I’m well aware of what wind speeds I can handle, as well as the limits on the fun factor when gusts are high. Being able to handle the winds and enjoying the ride are two distinctly different aspects of a motorcycle trip.
So I mosied south though Big Pine to Lone Pine, stopping at places I normally blast through on my way to other destinations. I took a long break at the Bristlecone Pine Information Center, waffling greatly (ok, maybe epically) about riding the rough, twisty road up to the forest. And I almost decided to go for it after chatting with a couple who was heading up. They promised they’d have my back if shit went bad for me. I took one last look at the wind reports and opted for prudence. Riding an unfamiliar and challenging road alone in high winds on a heavily loaded motorcycle seemed to cross the line from adventure into unnecessary risk. Really, it was only a postponement in hopes the winds would subside in the next day or two and I could ride it then.
Instead, I wandered into Lone Pine and spent some time at the Lone Pine Film History Museum I’d always passed by but never visited. I’m not a film buff by any means but the whole point of this trip was to travel slowly and dig a little deeper, knowing that there are surprises in expected places. In addition to honoring the vision for this trip an hour or so respite from the wind did me good.
By the time I finished up at the museum that afternoon I had a better idea of timing, location, and weather to meet up with my dear man. We initially thought that would be on Day 4, given the weather forecast. But he was anxious to get on the road and the winds were proving to be tolerable for a short ride on Day 3. That meant I would stay the night in Lone Pine and head back north the next day to meet him.
That gave me a motel night to shower, get some work done, maintain my physical therapy routine, and be out of the wind for a spell. Chatting with a fellow rider at the motel had me tempted to leave my load in the room and ride some dirt in the Alabama Hills less encumbered with heavy gear. Again, prudence won out. Dust filled the air from the heavy winds. Visibility was abysmal. The wind gusts were bone rattling. An evening walk through town to dinner at a taco truck was a better choice.
Mahogany Meats: Great sandwiches and all kinds of yummy jerky. I typically stock up here for snacks on the road.
The Roosevelt Tree: Located at the Bristlecone Pine Forest Information Kiosk at the intersection of US 395 and CA 168 in Big Pine.
Lone Pine Film History Museum: The Lone Pine area is home to the Alabama Hills, a popular filming location mainly for westerns but some sci-fi productions as well. It’s a small museum that you can enjoy in about an hour.
Castro’s Taco truck: If you like to add a taco safari to your travels like I do, this is a great stop. Lovely people, great food, and budget friendly.
The solo adventure portion of this trip only encompassed two nights instead of four. Is that ok? I’m happy with it. I did what I needed to do for myself and that’s just how it played out. Will I arrange more solo travel and camping? You betcha. It’s an extraordinary experience to be self-sufficient.
Next up in the April Escape saga: orchestrating a rendezvous with my dear man in horrendous winds.
What are you doing when you feel the most you? I mean utterly and entirely YOU—completely fulfilled, content, and exhilarated all at the same time? What are you doing when you think you couldn’t possibly love life any more than in that moment?
Does that disconnect happen when I’m missing time with my other passions? Yes. Most definitely. But not nearly as much.
The beauty of my particular loves is that they aren’t mutually exclusive. In fact, when they’re all blended, magic happens. It’s an apex of empowerment and freedom. It’s the mental place that helps reinvigorate my priorities and enables me to focus on decisions that further my beloved pursuits. In that place, I can step outside of the unimportant noise and distractions. I can tune out the things that make life less valuable. I can concentrate on the things that make my life worth living to the fullest.
It’s clarity. What follows are decisions that get me more of what I love. The most me I can be. The bonus? When you’re the most you, you have the space to be the most to the other people in your life. Everyone wins.
In recent years, I’ve had the good fortune to explore Death Valley National Park in a variety of ways: by camping and hiking, motorcycle travel, family travel, a photography workshop, and 4×4 excursions. Through those adventures, I’ve become a huge fan of the park. That means I often get quite enthusiastic about extolling the virtues of what it has to offer visitors.
So today I’m bringing you a beginner’s guide to Death Valley. Hopefully this basic introduction will give you the important details you need to make the most of your first trip to the park. Be sure to check out the full photo galleries at the end of the post for more images.
Background
Death Valley is the largest national park in the lower 48 states. At over 3.3 million acres, it’s almost as big as the state of Connecticut. Even at its narrowest width, it can take two hours to drive across it.
It was designated a national monument in 1933. In 1984, the boundaries were expanded and it became a national park.
In spite of its foreboding name, it is rich with history and natural diversity.
The park hosts about 1.3 million visitors a year.
Activities for visitors in the park include hiking, camping, sight-seeing, bicycling, birding, and backcountry driving.
Come see why so many visitors are captivated by Death Valley.
Before you go
Visit the park website. It is the ultimate clearinghouse of introductory information as well as the constantly changing details about road conditions, campgrounds, and points of interest.
Understand that there is very little cell service in the park so you can’t rely on your phone for emergencies or even basic communication in the vast majority of the park.
There are wide seasonal variations in temperatures and weather. The time of year you visit will dictate how you need to prepare for outdoor activities.
The wildflower bloom season in February is very popular. A trip at that time of year often requires lodging reservations months in advance.
If you’re coming for dark skies, pay attention to the moon. It may seem obvious, but rangers often encounter visitors who come for the park’s dark sky status but haven’t figured on a full moon. While any nighttime experience in Death Valley is spectacular, pay attention to your timing if your focus is dark skies.
Follow the park’s Facebook page. It is active and extremely informative.
Wildflower season (typically in late February) is a popular time to visit the park.
When you get there
The visitor center is always the best place to start your adventure in any national park but particularly in Death Valley. The park rangers can help you decide the best way to spend your time at the park, what programs will be offered while you’re there, and give you the latest information on road and trail conditions.
Pick up the park’s Visitor Guide newspaper. It is chock full of the most important information all visitors need to know about the park. You can pick one up at the park entrances, hotels, restaurants, or the visitor center. It’s even available online if you want a head start.
Once you decide on some activities, pick up a tip sheet for your selections. The park offers individual one-page guides for almost every trail and site. You can find them at the ranger desk in the visitor center.
Materials at the visitor center will help you make the most of your Death Valley experience.
Rules
Pay the fee. There are kiosks that accept credit cards at the major entrances or you can pay at the visitor center. Many visitors don’t realize there is an entrance fee to visit the park.
Dogs must be on leash at all times. They are permitted along roads, in campgrounds and picnic areas, as well as select developed locations. But there are vast limitations on where you can go with your pet. They’re not permitted on trails, in the open desert, or inside most buildings and they cannot be left unattended in a vehicle. Please choose wisely when considering bringing your pet to Death Valley.
You must stay on roads when traveling in a vehicle. But you can hike anywhere; trails are not the limiting factor in Death Valley.
Collecting anything in the park is prohibited—rocks, plants, animals, and artifacts are all protected. If you’d like a memento of your visit buy a souvenir from the visitor center. That helps support the park and preserves the landscape for future visitors.
Vandalism is a growing problem in all parks and Death Valley has had some high-profile, extremely damaging events in recent years. I know you aren’t planning to drive your car onto the Racetrack Playa like a recent visitor did, but please keep in mind that even building cairns—though it may seem harmless—is considered vandalism. Simply leave the landscape as you found it and future visitors will get to have the rich experience you’ve had.
Dogs are welcome along roadways and must be on a leash at all times.
Safety
Water! Dehydration is one of the most serious considerations in Death Valley. Most visitors need more water than they realize. The park experiences more rescue incidents when temperatures are over 100 degrees (F) because it doesn’t feel that hot due to the low humidity. In extreme heat, it’s also crucial to manage your electrolyte levels since your body is losing these, too. Without adequate electrolyte balance, you can still have a critical situation even if you have enough water.
In Death Valley a GPS receiver can be misleading at best. Satellite navigation devices often lead visitors to roads their vehicles can’t handle or that don’t exist at all. Pick up a physical, printed park map and orient yourself to the major roads and facilities. Your life could depend on it. The map from the park service is helpful if you’re sticking to the main, paved roads but I highly recommend the National Geographic Death Valley map from Trails Illustrated (Amazon affiliate link).
Road conditions change constantly in Death Valley, especially on the vast network of dirt roads. Many of the roads that are usually accessible to an average sedan can sometimes be treacherous depending on recent weather conditions. That’s why it’s important to learn about conditions while you’re there. There are also roads in Death Valley that are only accessible by high-clearance or 4×4 vehicles even at the best of times. It’s important to know which roads are appropriate for your vehicle.
Check with park rangers to make sure your vehicle is up to the task on Death Valley’s dirt roads.
Food, Lodging, and Supplies
The three lodging and supply centers within the park are The Oasis at Death Valley (formerly called Furnace Creek), Stovepipe Wells, and Panamint Springs. These privately operated facilities offer hotel rooms, cabins, tent cabins, and campsites for RVs and tents.
There are many camping options within the park, both developed and in the backcountry. Some require reservations but many are first come, first served.
Given the location and size of the park things like fuel, food, and supply choices are limited. That also means the prices are higher than many visitors anticipate and it catches them off guard. Visitors simply need to understand it takes more effort to get supplies to the park. It’s extremely isolated. That raises prices.
Stovepipe Wells is one of three lodging and supply locations inside the park.
My recommendations for activities
For a park the size of Death Valley, the seasonal variations, and the variety of activities you can choose from, it’s nearly impossible to give a definitive recommendation on what to do. Your timing, inclination for adventure, and current park conditions will determine your best choices while you’re there.
However, for a first-timer, you can’t go wrong with some of these tried and true favorites to initiate yourself to the wonders of Death Valley.
Get the whole family involved by participating in the Junior Ranger program.
Spend the night in the park. It may be tempting to come in for just a day. But Death Valley is just as spectacular at night as it is in daylight. And in a very different way. Take the opportunity to soak it in and know that one day barely scratches the surface here.
Artist’s Drive: It’s like a roller coaster for vehicles, with glorious geologic scenery.
Zabriskie Point: Accessible to even the most casual of visitors but a stark and extraordinary landscape.
Badwater Basin: At 282 feet below sea level, the salt formations are entrancing.
The salt flats of Badwater Basin occasionally flood but you’ll typically find it dry.
Dante’s View: Remarkable vista over Badwater Basin. The view is incomparable.
Mesquite Sand Dunes: Sunrise and sunset here are captivating. The way the light plays on the sand, ripples, and dunes is magical.
Rhyolite Ghost Town: Just outside Death Valley, this ghost town is home to a historic train depot and quirky art. Take your camera and have fun! The sights are truly bizarre and fabulous.
Mosaic Canyon is an easy, accessible hike near Stovepipe Wells that gives you an up-close look at the intricacies of the geology of Death Valley.
Titus Canyon: If you have a high-clearance vehicle or decide to rent one at the park, this drive is extraordinary and well worth the few hours it will take you. The geology, history, and vistas are amazing.
The Racetrack: The famous Racetrack Playa is a huge draw for visitors to Death Valley. Walking amongst the mysterious “floating” rocks is a delight but is only appropriate in dry conditions. Don’t walk on the playa if it is wet or muddy. Getting to the playa involves rugged driving, therefore a high-clearance vehicle is recommended. Check with rangers at the visitor center for advice on whether or not your vehicle is suitable for the current road conditions when you visit.
The “floating” rocks of the Racetrack Playa
Enjoy your visit!
Of course, this is just enough to get you started at Death Valley National Park. There’s so much more you can dive into if you have the time to go deeper. But that’s a post for another time.
And like any outdoor adventure, visitors need to approach the park with curiosity as well as caution. For all of its extraordinary beauty and the accessibility provided by the National Park Service, Death Valley is still a wilderness. Armed with the information here and on the park’s website, you’re on your way to having a fantastic experience.
I have to send out extreme appreciation and thanks to the the fabulous Ms. Abby Wines, National Park Service Management Assistant for Death Valley, for sharing her knowledge about the park with me to help make this guide as comprehensive as possible. Thank you, Abby!
My Blubaru and I, along with her Thule top-hat, have been through a lot together.
For quite a few years my trusty Subaru Forester has served as the main adventure-mobile for my explorations with Fred and George. She’s been in semi-retirement as life has moved on but this week “Blubaru,” as she’s known, is headed out for her first cross-country trip in a couple of years. George and I will be trekking from Georgia to Missouri for a cubing competition and then on to Nevada. Unlike earlier trips, it won’t be an extended camping expedition but we intend to enjoy the beauty of a good road trip in a very different context than in years past.
Looking Back
My poor little Forester has put in a LOT of miles and taken a lot of abuse as the boys and I criss-crossed the United States and Canada for weeks on end. None of those extended trips would have been possible without the addition of a roof box. Think small car, two growing boys, a metric ton of camping gear, and sometimes the Disapproving Beagle. A little extra storage capacity was in order, wouldn’t you say?
I promise, all of this (and then some) fits into 16 cubic feet.
That’s where the Thule Atlantis 1600XT comes in. I refined my packing plan for our treks over the years but it largely involved all our camping gear going in the roof box. Much of that gear is very heavy. That means I performed countless feats of acrobatics loading and unloading that box. I could frequently be seen precariously perched on Blubaru’s door frame while hoisting twenty-pound cots into the depths of the roof box… among about a million other bits and pieces of camping paraphernalia.
One time, for kicks and giggles, I took inventory of everything I managed to put in the box for our trips: One four-man tent with garage vestibule, a two-man tent, three regular cots, a backpacker’s cot, three sleeping pads, three pillows, a table, three camp chairs, two compact camp chairs, three backpacks, two hammocks and strap sets, a hammock tarp, three sleeping bags, and a tent stake mallet. Plus various other odds and ends crammed into the last remaining bits of space.
Yes, I’ve been seen sitting on top of the box to close it on many occasions.
It’s staggering what you can fit into sixteen cubic feet! On more than one occasion in chatting with fellow campers, they would stand with mouths agape when they realized what I could cram into that small space. Many didn’t believe until they watched me do it.
Moving Forward
This roof box has ventured tens of thousands of miles through every state in the lower 48 and the nine southern Canadian provinces. But times are a-changin’. The structure of my adventures has changed dramatically and the box has simply been gathering dust for two years. Plus, my permanent gimpiness means loading gear on the roof is not the best idea anymore. So it’s time to hand off the trusty Thule to someone who will make use of it for their own fabulous adventures.
That’s where you come in. Tell me a story. Tell me why you want it, what you will do with it, where you plan on taking it. Tell me why you’re the best candidate to continue the adventures emblazoned on the box. What stickers will you be adding? What vehicle will it play top-hat to now? You know me. What will catch my attention most is humor, creativity, and your passion for exploration.
Submissions via this Google Form are due by midnight (PDT) on June 30th. I’ll announce the winner—the person who entertained me the most—on social media on July 14th. Oh, and you’ll have to get started on your new adventures with the Thule Atlantis 1600XT by coming to Nevada to get it! Your other option is to propose an epic adventure to meet somewhere for the handoff… but it’ll have to be really good. 😉
[Update: Congratulations to Scott of Just Get Out More for being the one to carry the Thule torch. Happy adventuring!]
My Thule Atlantis 1600XT is going to ride off into the sunset with someone. How would you use it?
Oh Peach State, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways—mountains, swamps, beaches, rivers, pinelands, farms, waterfalls, museums, gardens, rich history, beautiful people. The list goes on and on. You hold so many special places and experiences within your boundaries.
I know I left. I’m sorry. It was time. We spent over two decades together—living life and weathering its ups and downs, raising two boys, hiking, exploring, geocaching, adventuring, motorcycling.
The view over Lake Chatuge from Georgia’s highest point, Brasstown Bald.
I was young when I moved there. Fresh out of college. Yet you’ve always known I longed for the solitude and vastness of the West. But you, my dear Georgia, you will always hold a special place in my life and memories. We have a deep and lasting emotional connection. And even now you still hold my best friends and my sons in your bosom.
I hope you know leaving was no easy task. That leaving doesn’t diminish what was. It’s necessary to weave a new tapestry for myself now. And I’m not leaving for good really. You know I return often to your lush landscape to embrace the people I hold dear.
Our years together have been amazing. I’ve criss-crossed you in the name of exploration and experience, most of the time with my beloved Fred, George, and Disapproving Beagle in tow. I’ve spent countless hours reveling in your state and national parks. My sons have blossomed in our time exploring there together, their education enriched by what you offer.
Your geology provides the framework for varying landscapes across the state. From the piedmont that forms the foothills of the Appalachians to the barrier islands on the coast, you offer endless possibilities for vastly different adventures:
Fred and George trying their hands at fencing at the Georgia Renaissance Festival. (Fairburn)Geocaching adventures with Fred and George have taken us all over the state. (Skidaway Island State Park)The Disapproving Beagle has explored almost as much of Georgia as I have. With the Chattahoochee River practically out the back door of my Georgia outpost, adventure is always just around the corner. (Old Roswell Mill/Vickery Creek)Georgia’s state park system includes gems like the waterfalls of Sitton’s Gulch. (Cloudland Canyon)An urban nature oasis… Old Fourth Ward.One of my very favorite Georgia trails is the approach to the Len Foote Hike Inn. (Amicalola Falls)Georgia is home to Going Caching, one of the best geocaching events around.Paddling in the Okefenokee Swamp. (Fargo)Georgia is home to magical gardens like the Atlanta Botanical Garden (Atlanta), Gibbs Gardens (Ball Ground), the State Botanical Garden of Georgia (Athens), and Callaway Gardens (Pine Mountain).Geocaching at Cockspur Island near Tybee Island. (Fort Pulaski National Monument)Nature and history meet at Fort King George Historic Site. (Darien)Georgia’s state parks offer well-appointed developed campsites that make family camping easy and fun.Hands-on experience learning about the history of gold mining in Georgia. (Consolidated Gold Mine, Dahlonega)The Dungeness Ruins of Cumberland Island National Seashore. (St. Marys)I can’t begin to tell you how much time we’ve spent on Atlanta’s pet rock. (Stone Mountain)From mountains to swamps, there’s no shortage of adventures to be had in Georgia. (George L. Smith State Park)Georgia’s opportunities for experiential education are a goldmine for homeschoolers. (Jimmy Carter National Historic Site)Fred and George have hiked more miles in Georgia than they likely remember. Georgia offers trails suitable for all ages and ability levels. (Chattahoochee Nature Center)A hiker and backpacker paradise, the Appalachian Trail begins in the north Georgia mountains.One of my favorite Georgia pasttimes? Riding out in search of fabulous barbecue. (Amos’ BBQ, Ball Ground)
A handful of images to summarize over two decades of adventures. They don’t quite do the Peach State justice but I do feel I’ve done Georgia justice in discovering what it has to offer. I hope you find it as exciting as I have. Happy adventuring!
This week when I shared the nuts-and-bolts of visiting Bandelier National Monument, I had to think back to why I enjoyed camping there so much. Certainly it’s a very agreeable campground in a technical sense but really it was that the time with my sons went well.
There are so many challenges to traveling in a small car with two adolescent boys. The challenges are entirely different from the ones of their younger years. Emotions run high. Volatile. They want their independence yet they still have so much they need from us. Criticism for you as a parent lurks in nearly every comment and interaction.
The rewards when something goes well though? They’re extraordinary.
And with teens, those moments are few and fleeting. Parenting teens involves weathering a lot of storms for only a glimpse of the wonder of seeing our fledglings happy and appreciative of our efforts.
What made our time at Bandelier so memorable was that we were at ease. We’d made it through a couple of days of some sort of stomach bug before we arrived. On the road, that’s even more miserable than at home but we got through it together. We made changes to our plans. We stayed flexible. It gave us at least a temporary perspective and compassion for one another.
Having that ordeal behind us, we explored the ruins without trying to do too much, continued our Boggle tournament, made S’mores over the campfire, listened to the hummingbirds, marveled at the craftiness of ravens, and watched the full moon rise over the trees. We talked and laughed. Together.
I often wonder how they’ll look back at our time camping and exploring as they grow older. I want my boys to learn what they can from the places we visit, but more so I hope they value the connection we have when we’re immersed in the simplicity of camping. And that’s all I can do… show them and hope they get it one day. I can lead them to the water but I can’t make them drink.
And that’s ok. They get to decide for themselves.
The new visitor center at Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge.
Tucked off of the very busy Highway 93, 80 miles north of Las Vegas, you’ll find Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge. This Nevada oasis seems horribly overlooked by the cars and trucks hurtling by.
I’m sure they see it. There’s really no way to miss it. The lush landscape is a startling contrast to the Nevada desert surrounding it.
I myself have passed it by in my rush to be elsewhere. But slide off onto the access road to Upper Pahranagat Lake and the frenetic pace of the highway becomes only a distant rumble. This avian haven becomes your haven as well.
Getting started at Pahranagat…
I always recommend a stop at the visitor center in order to best acquaint yourself with the offerings. Unfortunately for me, I arrived on a Tuesday when the center was closed and would not open again until Friday when I was departing. Great timing, eh?
What I discovered when I popped in on Friday though, was a brand-new facility ready to invite visitors to discover the wonders of Pahranagat. The exhibit includes many interactive features that appeal to kids and adults alike. Much of the focus is on wildlife but the it also includes a look at human history in the area.
Like many of our public lands visitor centers, Pahranagat offers a short film you can watch to better understand the refuge before setting out to explore it. I highly recommend taking the time to watch. This is also where you can pick up brochures and guides, as well as an extensive bird list for the refuge.
The exhibit in the visitor center will give you a sense of what Pahranagat has to offer curious visitors.
Sit a spell and enjoy the film introduction to Pahranagat… while the little ones are happily coloring.
History and importance…
The desert along Highway 93 suddenly turns to a lush oasis .
Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge was designated in 1963 and straddles the boundary of the Mojave and Great Basin deserts. At over 5,000 acres, this “Valley of Shining Water” is fed by thermal springs. It is truly an oasis that is a critical stopover for migrating birds. All told, this refuge plays host to over 200 species in varying frequencies.
This diverse environment is not just for the birds, though. Because Pahranagat includes lakes, wetlands, riparian habitat, meadows, and desert uplands, you can find a variety of wildlife and plants here year-round. Everything from desert tortoises and mule deer to willows and wildflowers. Obviously Pahranagat is a popular destination for birds and its stewards manage water levels to maximize habitat for various species throughout the year.
Your explorations aren’t limited to flora and fauna. Pahranagat is also home to human history. It has been used by natives for thousands of years. Pictographs and petroglyphs can be found here as well as the Walden House, a relic of pioneer times.
Wetlands in the midst of a desert provide a vital stopover for migratory birds.
Things to do…
A walk around Upper Pahranagat lake will only take an hour or so and the terrain is not challenging.
With the natural and cultural resources Pahranagat offers, you have a lot of choices how to spend your time. While most of the action is at Upper Pahranagat Lake, don’t overlook other areas for opportunities to explore.
Because of the importance and diversity of this refuge, you’ll find something to do and see year-round.
Pahranagat’s 5,000+ acres of lakes, wetlands, and desert will give you plenty of options to explore.
A spot to rest on the west side of Upper Paharanagat Lake.
Camping…
Camping at Pahranagat. There are free back in, pull-through, and buddy sites available first-come, first-served.
There are 14 campsites nestled on the eastern banks of Upper Pahranagat Lake. They are free and first-come, first-served. They span the length of the lake, giving ample space between sites. The various sites accommodate back-ins and pull-throughs. A few are “buddy” sites that allow a larger group of visitors.
I thoroughly enjoyed my stay at Pahranagat. It’s now one of my favorite camping spots. There are a few things to keep in mind if you’re considering a visit:
There is no potable water and no electric connections.
Vault toilets are scattered along the campground but I often found them without paper since I was visiting during off-days. Fortunately I’m a seasoned camper… I always bring my own.
There are no fire pits and ground fires are not allowed.
Sites are equipped with picnic tables and hibachi grills.
This is a wetland. There are mosquitoes. Plan accordingly, especially in the dawn and dusk hours.
You will experience some road noise from Highway 93 which runs along the refuge border, above the campsites. I didn’t find it to be too obtrusive to keep me from enjoying my stay.
My view from campsite number 5. Amazing, no?
Tips and tidbits…
Gnarly old trees come to life in the fading light at Pahrangat National Wildlife Refuge.
Some other things to keep in mind for your visit:
There is a covered pavillion at the entrance.
Again, there is no potable water. Remember to bring an adequate supply, even for a day trip.
Always educate yourself on park rules. In the case of Pahranagat, it’s important to note there is no swimming allowed and no motorized boats or off-road vehicles are permitted. Refer to the Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge website for current and complete information.
If you’d like to visit but don’t want to camp, you’ll need to head north a few miles to Alamo, Nevada. That’s where you can secure fuel and basic supplies. This is a fairly remote area but there are a few lodging and restaurant options in Alamo.
The most popular spot for lodging and dining in my experience is Windmill Ridge, another five-ish miles north of Alamo on Highway 93. Geocachers may recognize this as the premier spot to use as a base for tackling the lower section of the E.T. Highway power trail.
The stunning sunsets of Pahranagat hold personal importance to me. This place will always be a special spot.
Connecting…
I’ve seen a lot of wonderful places in my time traveling around North America and I have fond memories of them. Then there are places that have a deeper impact. Maybe it was the combination of place, timing, and my emotional needs that came together to cement Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge as one of those special places.
I love our national park system, of course. But I always encourage people to explore the lesser-known public lands like Pahranagat or other refuges, national forests, and monuments. They’re just as fabulous and typically don’t have the crowds and chaos of the marquis parks. In these places, you get a better understanding of our public lands and a better chance to find peace.
Finally, here’s a YouTube video of my time at Pahranagat… several days of exploring and photography boiled down to two minutes. You can find more images in my Pahranagat album on Flickr. Enjoy!
Adventure on, friends.
And now for your moment of green…
Stop at Pahraganat to discover the unexpected side of Nevada.
So you know how I was feeling triumphant for having returned from The Pacific Northwest Tour sans major travel catastrophes for once. Other than feeling a little worse for wear, things went pretty smoothly considering the undertaking.
The bad news is that I was wrong. I’ve been basking in a healthy dose of survival-denial in that I’ve been ignoring the hand issue that plagued me since Salt Lake City because I knew if acknowledged the complications that I’d be hard-pressed to keep plowing forward. That denial stage got me through the remainder of the Pacific Northwest Tour… setting camp, breaking camp, cooking, lifting, shooting, and hauling for another four weeks.
But now that I’m past that and I have to face reality, I find myself giving way to a torn ligament that is very painful and terribly limiting with the only real solution being surgery. This means I’ll have to switch things up in terms of how I operate day-to-day as well as shifting adventures to more low-key efforts that don’t strain the hand until I get through surgery and recovery. Camping trips are going on the back burner since the physical demands of setting up camp are too much but there’s still a lot I can do to keep the adventure flowing. It will certainly cramp my style on the Hell Hike and Raft but with the help of my fabulous crew-mates, I’ll be fine.
In light of all of the potential physical challenges a person can face, this falls in the minor category. It is, however, a major hassle and makes daily tasks cumbersome but like my friend Petunia, it isn’t going to kill me. And while there are no guarantees, it is likely a recoverable and temporary setback and it just means making some adjustments in the meantime.
Anyway, the point of this being and that we all have our setbacks, big and small, emotional and physical. I think the key is knowing yourself well enough to be able to tap into the things that keep you in your happy place even when you’re struggling and keep pursuing them even if you have to change the process a little to accommodate your challenges.
Which brings me to a quote that always make me laugh and keep things in perspective…
Any idiot can face a crisis; it it this day-to-day living that wears you out. ~Anton Chekov
Cheers!
It was painful, but continuing to plow through the Pacific Northwest Tour meant not missing the opportunity to see eye-popping sunsets in Oregon.
So it’s been a full week since I’ve returned to “normal” life back at Camp Granola HQ after the Pacific Northwest Tour. My glamorous post-trip activities have involved the likes of buying a new refrigerator, tackling the massive computer difficulties that kept me from processing images while on the trip, sorting through stacks of mail and bills, unpacking the car, gear maintenance, and laundry… oh, the laundry. (Can you hear me weeping?)
At any rate, with computer issues resolved, I’m slowly regaining my rhythm and plowing through the 9,000+ images and videos I took while on the road. I’ve got lots of material to share about the fabulous places we visited but before we get to that, let’s do a recap:
By the numbers…
My happy geocacher…
Total days on the road: 48
Miles driven: 9,015
States visited: 22 (GA, AL, MS, TN, AR, OK, TX, NM, AZ, CO, UT, ID, OR, WA, ND, SD, MN, IA, NE, MO, IL, KY)
Canadian Provinces: 4 (British Columbia, Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba)
National Parks and Lands visited in U.S. and Canada: 11… along with driving through so many National Forests I lost count.
Some other odd little tidbits from the trip include:
I only did laundry three times on the Pacific Northwest tour. I’ll let you do the olfactory math on what Blubaru smells like right now. Better yet? Do yourself a favor and don’t try to imagine that.
Oil changes for Blubaru: 2
Border crossings: 2 (None with George naked this time, though)
This trip went remarkably well, really. There were no major weather battles, gear failures, car repairs, or injuries… just normal low-level stuff that is to be anticipated on a trip like this. Certainly nothing that caused major changes or hangups.
There were triumphs and struggles, of course. And each trip provides different lessons to consider for the next adventure.
Fred and George in a moment of sweetness at Craters of the Moon.
The ups…
Pace: Compared to previous adventures, I set a more manageable pace for the most part, especially early on. That did slip towards the end when I found myself driving nealry 2,600 miles in less than four days but my average daily mileage was my lowest of the last three major expeditions.
Documentation: I did a much better job of keeping up with photography and even dipped my toe into time-lapse and video.
Geocaches: Before setting out, George and I had notions of getting in way more geocaching on this trip. Even though we got fewer than we set out for, we both agreed the quality of the ones we found was very high so we’re counting this in the win column.
Hotel time: I had my sights on less than 10 nights in hotels. We ended up with 15. The reason I’m counting it as a win is that we made better use of those stops by checking in earlier and enjoying the luxury of beds, hot showers, and wifi instead of just blasting in to sleep for a few hours.
Backroads: One of my major focuses for this expedition was spending more time on backroads instead of highways. There’s still room for improvement but I’m very satisfied with our highway-to-backroads ratio.
Base camp: We did much less camp-hopping averaging 3-4 nights in each stop.
The downs…
My darling Fred: Our biggest struggle this trip was emotional. Dealing with the roller-coaster that is a teenager while living out of a small car… well, it was challenging. He had his very sweet, Fred moments but those were few and far between the episodes of diving into the depths of teenage discontent.
Not only did I have computer power issues, I was operating with only one camera battery.
Power issues: Early on I struggled with staying powered so I could continue to work on the road. A stop through Goal Zero HQ in Salt Lake City greatly improved our situation.
Computer issues: Not long after I solved my power issues, my poor beleaguered MacBook started having a meltdown… out of memory, out of space, and having no part of running beefier programs like Lightroom. It basically gave me a big middle-finger and I was dead in the water for processing and properly backing up images. I opted for damage-control mode in order to just get home and solve the issues from here rather than try to deal with it on the road.
Hand injury: Unfortunately this trip was not injury-free. In Salt Lake City I did a lovely little number on my right hand, hyper-extending digits in ways they really should not be. Aside from blinding pain, there was nothing that sent up red flags for me. With no apparent swelling or bruising, I didn’t think much of it at the time other than “That’s going to hurt for awhile.” Five weeks later… well, it ain’t so great.
Fitness: One of my major failures this go-round was keeping up my fitness level. I did some hiking and managed a handful of yoga sessions, but with so much time in the car, it was no where near my usual activity. My plummeting fitness had a huge impact on my ability to combat road-trip fatigue and towards the end, I began feeling absolutely horrible.
Coming up…
There were some places we blitzed through that deserved so much more time. Olympic National Park was definitely one of them.
There you have it, the Pacific Northwest Tour in a nutshell. The meaty stuff is coming up next so stay tuned as I sift through the detritus from the journey and start telling the stories of the truly fabulous places we got to experience as well as the logistics, tips, and realities of a expedition like this.
For an overview of the locations I’ll be writing about, visit my Pacific Northwest Tour Pinterest Board.
As always, follow along on your favorite social media outlet for more of Camp Granola’s adventures.
