Cali road trip, V.2006


Heading to California, seems to be an annual pilgramige for me.  I wake at my normal pace and over coffee I think, "OK, today seems about right". I load up The Discovery and point her west.  The road is long enough and the home turf familiar enough that it isn't until I hit the western slope, The Grand Valley somewhere along about Fruita, that I feel like I'm really underway.  The Rockies crossed and the Great Basin ahead, finally I'm in deep water.

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I pull off in Fruita to pick up some, uh, groceries.  I'm headed to Utah afterall. A glance east as I slide back onto the I70, the sun has dipped below the clouds to illuminate the ongoing rain in the Valley.  It is a good sign, the monsoon is with me.

Utah

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Crossing the Zion curtain and fighting the tug of routine to exit south for Moab, I push on through to the San Rafael Swell. Guided by measuring off the map and counting the mile markers, I exit the highway on an unmarked dirt side road.   It was tricky to see in the moonless night, but it had to be here.  A day into the drive, time for a day's distraction exploring the Swell.

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But enough of this dallying, time to get goal-oriented.  I'm bound for Mammoth; three days hence I'm meeting some old friends there, ostensibly, for Bluesapalooza.  So I set my course... due south.

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I had a great ride at Goosberry Mesa and this was the only picture I took. Guess I'll have to go back sometime...

Nevada

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My current position in southwestern Utah sets me up nicely for a Nevada crossing via a route that I've spied on the map... The Extraterrestrial Highway.

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California

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What, no Unicorns?

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Well, I'm "here" now: Cal-if-orn-eye-A.  Swimming pools, movie stars... time to stop for a swim I guess.  This little lake was the first stop in what turned out to be a swiming tour of the "Golden State".  Alkaline, the water feels  soapy, but that's the oils being drawn from your skin giving it that slimy touch. Sinching down my sandles I plod into the silty muck, taking care to minimize stirring the muddy sediment.  I slide into the warm water and skull a slow circuit to the lake's middle.  There floating lazily on my back bouyed by the dense saline water I watch the growing afternoon clouds and hope for a little action of the convection kind.   But today it is not to be.
Circuiting Boundary Peak I zig a bit north and drop into the Mono Basin. I can't pass through these parts without a little stop and visit to the lake.   

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Morning, not far outside Mammoth.    Yeah, last night I could have pushed on through and crashed the boy's party, but I had another plan... another favorite haunt: more camp cooking, more night air and a nice little soak under the stars in the hot springs.  Oh yeah, and then the pre-sunrise soak.
So I met up with the gang and went for a ride on the lifts.  Then we made merry, as boys will do. Then we rode again.





Thanks for the pics Jay & Eron, I took none.
So I get to feeling a little edgy among the well hunkered in clan. Mammoth is an oasis of all that "SoCal" not only symbolizes, but is. But I'm still in road-trip mode and sleeping under a roof tears at my iterant soul.  I find respite in an overnighter to the White Mountains.

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A slow morning and a paced return Mammothward, the boys have abandoned me for yet another ride up and down the groomed, sanctioned routes of the lift area.  I hit up the Lower Rock Creek Trail.  No pics were taken, but this wasn't my first time here.  I rejoin the boys for an evening of festivities.

My time in the East Side draws nigh, but since I was in the neighborhood, no time like the present for a little tour around the ghost town of Bodie.  Maybe someday I'll visit again in better light and take more pictures that this one.

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A logical tear in the flow of my little road trip happens along in here somewhere, it's called destination.  I visit with the mom for ten days.  The chore list has been growing steadily since my last visit a year ago, and well...

I did manage to sneak away to do some riding while I was there....  

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Nevada

Heading back homeward I didn't make much of a scratch into Nevada before making my next exit: Pyramid Lake.

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Not particularly anywhare, not particularly anything.  There's just a lot of here, here.

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California was interminably blue skied and sunny, western Nevada the same and hot.  But ahead in the east I could see clouds welling up from the land, the shelter of the monsoon.  Finally in Austin, I looked up and cold see that relief was near.

East of Austin I found a spot on the map that says "hot spring", in mid-basin I see the tell-tale cinder cone in the distance. Of course I can't resist, this is how I do things you see.

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The spring is dry, of course, but a better treat is in store. Somewhere along this stretch of road I meet an atmospheric boundary: outside the wind was incredible, difficult to stand in.  And then calm. Air was being sucked up into this beast of a cell that I had watched forming over the past hour or so. And then the bottom dropped out.  Dead still air and drenching rain.  But I knew the storm was all bark, amidst its fury the sun was low and I knew the rainbow would be out any minute, then it would all blow over and stars would again fill the night.

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Right on cue.  About this time it sinks in: with each crossing, I like Nevada more. Here I feel my margins expand with the horizon.

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I travel on, explore the next basin for a spot to camp, and miss and incredible sunset by minutes.


Utah

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Stepping across the border I com across the Horn Silver Mine & Frisco Townsite.
The Colorado River and its side canyons present a substantial barrier to land travel in the 4-corners region.   Typically without even considering why, you end up having to choose which way to go around, north or south, east or west based on the roads.  From the vantage of US 50, going with the flow takes you north, eventually hooking up with I70.  I chose to zig south, punching through the Hurricane Cliffs, shot the gap between the Sevier and Paunsaugunt Plateaux, slid past Kodachrome Basin and tip-toed my way down the Grand Staircase via Cottonwood Canyon.

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"Hogbacks" near the canyon's southern end.

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Emerging from the southern end by last light, I find a spot to camp.

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Eastward ho...


Arizona

The route from here takes me south east, through Page.  Page is kinda like Mammoth for the house-boating set.  Only Mammoth Mountain itself was already there, they just had to build some lifts and carve some runs through the trees.  Page... Page supports the pursuits of  those who go boating on Lake Powell.  The very name of which gives me shudders for it is the ugliest blight scarring the surface of this earth that I have been exposed to.  I cringe, gas up and move on.  I wont even talk about the German tourists who saw my car up on that view point and decided to see what they were missing, all the while I was thinking the deepest and darkest of these very thoughts.

Go to someone else's website for pictures of Lake Powell.


Whew! That over with and just outside of Page I'm in the land of the Navajo. I stopped in at Betatakin to check things out.  Get this, you have to have a guide to see the sites.  No surprise.  Surprise was, though I was there at well before noon that day, I was informed by the head that there were no more tours for the day.  SAY WHAT?  Yeah, it was "off season", and I'd have to wait 'til tomorrow. Not!  When exactly is "on season"?  Nevermind.  Feeling the touron those parkies wanted me to be, I took these cheesy snapshots from the overlook and hit the road. I'll be back, but on my own terms.

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A relict volcanic plug outside Kayenta


Determining that if I'm going to be a touron, I'm going to be one in my car. I take a left and head for Monument Valley.

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Exit here for these and more Monument Valley pics. 

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Utah

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The goosenecks section of the San Juan River.  Entrenched meanders they call it. Those geologists, it's like they have a word for everything.   To me, it's another magic spot.  I could sit there for hours...  I did sit there for hours.

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A day hike into Grand Gulch. Guide? I don't need no stinking guide!





(I stink plenty on my own, thanks.)

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Hovenweep.  Well, it is just down the road a piece.


Back in Colorado

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Passing through the town of Rico I had kind of a funny vision of how the old west has become the new: pickups and SUVs now grace the street that haven't changed much since the wane of the mining era.


In these parts I have vehicular recreation in mind, several roads over passes becon me to come explore.

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Peaks and passes in the San Juan Mountains.

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Descending the east side something jumps out at me and give me a melancholy chill, it's still only a suggestion perhaps, but this there just the same.

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Undeniably, there is a touch of fall in the air.  How did that happen?  How did it happen so quickly?  It won't be long, I tell you.  (Writing this, just two weeks later I hear that these alpine passes I've crossed are now under snow.)  


By now I'm close enough to home that's it's strikable in an evening's drive. My sleeping gear still soaked form the last two night, I declare it time to get on down the road.

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A parting shot, the sun sinking behind me as I make the final push home.