Category Archives: Unique Natural Features

Backpacking in the Weminuche Wilderness: Day 1

During the month of August I had fallen back into some bad habits. In particular, I’d fallen into the very habit I often criticize my own generation for: scrolling. I know the costs outweigh the benefits. By gazing at the predictable content of our news feeds and customized social media echo chambers on our phones, we miss out on countless opportunities out there in the real world, all to avoid the discomfort of boredom, or a potentially awkward interaction with another human being.

It’s not just about scrolling. Scrolling is what we all see. It’s the same routine day in and day out. It’s going to the same bars and restaurants over and over. It’s watching movies and TV shows we have already seen multiple times instead of calling people up and organizing a social gathering. It is all the things that we do because the alternative requires a greater amount of effort. It’s low risk, low effort, and low reward. Unfortunately, for me, it lacks stimulation, it lacks enthusiasm, and over time can even lead to depression.

I haven’t thought of a better word for it than “defaulting”. I often feel as if there is some sort of invisible force always dragging us toward this kind of life, this “defaulting”. There seems to be a constant struggle, to mix things up, to avoid the mundane, to avoid losing contact with people. And, while I think my personal record is pretty good (i.e. all the things I write about in this blog), there are times when I get tired of the struggle, and times when I do feel as if this invisible force is indeed advancing on me. At these times, it is good to have some sort of activity, or some sort of trip that helps us hit the “reset” button.

For this purpose, there truly is nothing like going into the woods, away from it all, out of cell service, completely out of my comfort zone, and in a place where “defaulting” is not only no longer easier, but not an option at all!

Our three day backpacking trip began at ThirtyMile Campground, just a mile or so east of the Rio Grande Reservoir.

After passing by a weather station, that is near and dear to me, as it is one of the stations that helped me calibrate the mean impact cold air funneling, in valleys throughout Colorado, has on nighttime lows, we encountered the Rio Grande Reservoir within the first mile of our trip.

Going into this trip, which had been planned for several weeks ahead of time, we knew there would be muddy trails, and a heightened chance of rain. Not only is Southwestern Colorado the most active part of the state during the late summer monsoon season, but this past weekend featured an active pattern in the region.

Friday was supposed to be the most active day, with regards to chances for precipitation. Yet, we lucked out. Leaving at 10 AM, after enjoying a nice relaxing morning at the campground, we hiked 7.5 miles, up the Weminuche Trail, dealing with very little rain, only with muddy trails. Mindful of the storm threat, we stopped shortly after 3:00 P.M., having found a good spot to set up camp, near a stream and some trees. Despite the periodically ominous looking skies, the storms held off until after sundown, giving us plenty of time to set up camp, cook a nice meal, and take in the wilderness, now being officially away from civilization.

I felt exhausted at the end of the day, as I had not gotten a good night sleep the prior evening at the campground. So, I ended up going to sleep shortly after sundown. With two backpacking trips behind me, I am starting to think that sleeping even more than the normal 7.5 hours per night is pretty normal on trips like this.

I spent the last waking hour of the evening inside the tent, listening to the sound of gentile rain tapping on the fly. Under normal circumstances, many of us drown out these sounds, with TV, music, or some other sound. Hearing this sound, for nearly an hour before falling asleep made me imagine a completely different life.

I imagined myself, as I often do, as a completely different person, with a completely different personality, upbringing, circumstance, and desires. I imagined myself living in the woods, in a cabin of sorts, not too unlike the kind many people in Michigan, Minnesota, or Wisconsin have today. It would be a modest sized cabin, with one main room, a bunch of bedrooms, a kitchen, and a closet, to keep things like cross-country skis, wet suits, and all of the other necessary equipment. But, I would not have too many high tech or expensive toys. It would be a life in a small community of sorts, where people know one another, spend a lot of time over at each other’s houses for dinner and games. It would be a life way closer to, and way more connected with nature. It would be a life that would never satisfy the real me, as restless as I get for one adventure after the next, one major social interaction after another, and testing limits. But, for this alternate person I imagine myself being, as I drift off to sleep on a rainy August evening high in the San Juan Mountains of Southwest Colorado, it is perfect, cozy, and quaint.

Glenwood Springs: Where Canyon Country Begins

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When people think of the American West, certain images often come to mind: the unique natural features of Yellowstone. Iconic mountains that tower over the nearby landscape, such Rainier and Hood. The canyons that carve through the American Southwest, creating popular destinations such as the Grand Canyon.

The Grand Canyon is not the only canyon of the American West. In fact, it is not the only canyon carved out by the Colorado River, the continent’s fifth longest running river. The river, has its source at Rocky Mountain National Park and snakes through the west carving out numerous canyons. In fact, there are some that believe that the canyon in Southern Utah that was flooded when Glen Canyon Dam was built, a couple of hundred miles upstream of the Grand Canyon, was even more scenic than the Grand Canyon itself (some are even looking to remove the dam despite the Wests water needs).

An overly simplified model of Colorado’s geography, is that of the three flavored boxes Neapolitan Ice Cream. Colorado’s three sections are the Plains, the Central Rockies, and a region generally referred to as the Western Slope. While the Western Slope is officially defined as anywhere west of the Continental Divide, culturally, we tend to think of it as west of Ski Country, which also happens to coincide with where canyon country begins.

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On the above map, the two yellow stars are Denver, where the Plains end and the Central Rockies begin, and Glenwood Springs, where, traveling west the terrain transitions from tall peaks to canyons, mesas, and plateaus.

The official reason for the trip to Glenwood this year was whitewater rafting, a group trip that I organize every year, with a different destination each time.

This year, the trip was a little bit later in the season, early July, rather than mid-June. The later date allowed more of the mountain snowpack to melt, particularly this year, as the period around the fourth of July was quite hot across the state. As a result, the rapids were not nearly as intense as the previous two years. However, the trip was not without its moments. This time, everybody stayed in the raft!

As was the case last year and the year prior (this is the third year of my annual trip), we camped. We selected a somewhat peculiar place to camp this year, on top of the White River Plateau north of town.

To get to the Plateau, we had to follow a road called Coffee Pot Road, a bumpy road that rose up out of the Colorado River Valley below us and onto the plateau several thousand feet above it.

Here is where I fully came to the realization that I was on the border of two of Colorado’s “stripes”. Looking east from the campground, in clear view are the tallest peaks of the Central Rockies, the Sawatch Range, which includes Mount Evans, Colorado’s tallest peak.

A mere mile to the west of our campsite sits Deep Creek Canyon. I had no idea this canyon existed. Deep Creek is a tiny creek, carrying very little water at the time we saw it. Yet, it manages to carve a 2100 foot deep crevice in the landscape in a manner similar to Black Canyon and other Western Canyons.

What really made this feel like a peculiar place to camp was the range of temperatures we would experience over the course of the weekend. We spent the middle part of the day in the valley, first rafting in the Colorado River than in town, all at elevations below 6000 feet. Daytime temperatures soared well into the 90s! At night, we returned to our campground, above 10,000 feet in elevation, where nighttime temperatures fell into the upper 40s. If one were looking to experience comfortable temperatures, it would make sense to do the exact opposite, spending the daytime hours at higher elevations where it is cooler and then returning to the valley at night.

The town of Glenwood Springs is a touristy town. Everyone around, from the rafting instructors to the bus drivers describe it as such. However, it is touristy in a different way than some other places I’ve visited. I didn’t see 50 ice cream shops like I do in South Haven, MI. I did not see anything like Ripley’s Believe it Not or the other places I see at the Wisconsin Dells. And, I certainly didn’t see 150 T-shirt shops as I do when I visit Cooperstown. It seemed like more bars and restaurants than anything else here. And, of course, one of Glenwood’s other main draws, the hot springs.

Maybe Glenwood’s tourism industry is simply trying to accommodate a different mix of people than those other places, or maybe they are simply trying to stay true to their own unique identity. After all, there are a lot of activities in the area, and a lot of reasons for people to visit.

Just east of town, is the area known as Glenwood Canyon. Due to the narrowness of this valley, there are sections of I-70 where the speed limit drops to 50 miles per hour, the westbound lanes are stacked on top of the eastbound lanes, and parts of the highway are tunneled underneath rock that goes right up to the River.

It is in this canyon, several miles east of town, where Glenwood’s signature hike, Hanging Lake Trail draws so many tourists, that the parking lot is commonly full. In fact, both Friday and Saturday, highway signage indicated that this lot was full anytime we drove by it. We were able to get parking spots in the later part of the afternoon, around half past four, after the rafting trip, and lunch in town.

Hanging Lake is a short but challenging trail. Only 1.2 miles long, it climbs 1200 feet in elevation. This, both made sense and surprised me at the same time. Being in a canyon, I knew that any hike in the area would be steep, and this one sure had its steep parts. What surprised me was, how far up the canyon hanging lake is.

I had seen pictures of this lake before, and knew the trail was short, I just pictured it being much shorter and much closer to the bottom of the canyon.

The trail was crowded, which should not be surprising, given that the parking lot was still almost completely full when we arrived. What surprised me was the ethnic diversity of the crowd hiking this trail. On the way up to hanging lake, which probably took a little over 30 minutes, I heard people speaking all sorts of different languages! I enjoyed seeing so many different kinds of people enjoying scenery, nature, and, as I speculate, a weekend away from it all.

There is only one area attraction I did not get to, the Glenwood Caverns Adventure Park. It’s hard to get to everything on a short weekend trip. I guess there is still a lot more for me to see here in Glenwood, where Westbound travelers leave the high peaks of the Central Rockies and enter the land of deep canyons.

100 Miles of Rolling Hills Through Central New York

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It’s the quintessential bike tour stop. A small town diner. A picture of the bicycle in front of it, the more panniers the better. Highly decorated walls, with an old fashion sort of flare to it. And, of course, the existential, thought filled, photo. It feels like I am having that experience every long distance cyclist needs to have. Of the many stories of bike travel I have read, particularly in the Adventure Cycling Association’s monthly newsletter, it always seems like there is some sort of experience at a small town diner like this.

I am not even sure, at this point in time, whether or not I am indeed following the Adventure Cycling Association’s Northern Tier route. I know it is somewhere close to here, in Wolcott, NY, a town I would pronounce incorrectly for the entire duration of the trip. But, I am still unsure of just how odd I look at this point in time.

We rolled out of town on some quiet roads that were significantly hillier than the prior day’s ride. The entire days’ ride would in some ways resemble this, up and down these types of rolling hills that dominate the landscape of Central New York. Over the course of the next twenty or so miles (sometimes the brain works slower when the body is consistently physically engaged like this), I processed the interactions I had with the locals, both at the diner this morning and over the course of the day yesterday. It suddenly occurred to me that my Long Island accent, which I had originally thought would be an asset while interacting with people in this area, is actually a liability.

It’s a familiar story that plays out in so many other states with large metropolitan areas, but also large rural/small town swaths. People from “downstate”, which mainly means New York City, Long Island, and Westchester County, dominate state politics, and call anything north of Poughkeepsie “upstate” despite its position well south of the center of the state. This can sometimes lead to resentment from those in other parts of the state that feel neglected or even abused.

The people at the hot dog stand in Fulton, NY, our next stop, were quite friendly. They gave us the water we needed to refill our water bottles, and even gave us a couple of hot dogs to help us on our journey. They also largely confirmed my speculation about my Long Island accent, and how they feel about the region I grew up in. The discussion focused on state politics. By far the most common political sign I encountered throughout my time in the state of New York were yard signs advocating the repeal of something called the NY Safe Act. A rough map of which counties have resolved to oppose this act highlights a clear divide between the New York metropolitan area and the rest of the state!

My friend Clay is originally from Texas. Out of curiosity, I asked the two ladies at the hot dog stand which location, Long Island or Texas, would have a generally more positive reputation in this town. They quietly giggled at me and told me “Texas wins”.

I’ve always had a strong interest in road networks. I’ve actually memorized the routes of many interstate and U.S. highways. People will often open up a map, name two roads, and see if I can guess where those two roads intersect. I don’t have perfect memory, like that zip code guy that used to hang out in downtown Boulder. But, knowing my road network, I knew getting to Interstate 81, in Central Square, NY, directly north of Syracuse, felt like a milestone to me. It meant that I was roughly halfway across the state.

When I was 12 years old, about a year after my family moved from New York to Chicago, I made this mental connection between people talking about “going upstate” back in New York, and people from the Chicago area heading to Wisconsin. While there are plenty of parallels, the analogy was undoubtedly an oversimplification. After crossing I-81, I recalled that I was now within a several hour drive of New York City. Before even hitting the Adirondacks, I saw tons of amazing places in this part of New York.

I was also fortunate to get to ride on some quieter roads. We took Moose River Road northeast out of Booneville to connect to state highway 28, which would lead to our evening’s destination: Old Forge.

This was one of my favorite parts of today’s ride; 17 quiet miles through dense forests, going over periodic hills and passing by groups of vacation homes tucked away in the woods. It feels like the kind of place where a lot of happy things happen. It made me think of people having their weekend away from the crowds. It made me think of sixth graders at their family vacation home having their first kiss down by the lake. It made me think of people actually talking to one another as opposed to staring at phones, tablets, and other devices.

The final ten miles of my ride were along highway 28. This was kind of the opposite experience. It was not quiet at all. But, like many of the roads I had been biking on throughout the state of New York, it had a wide shoulder for biking. Additionally, it had periodic signs labeling the road as a bike route. I also saw some wild turkey- not too exotic, but something I do not see on a day-to-day basis.

I arrived in Old Forge just before sundown. We stayed at a hotel called Water’s Edge Inn, which, as its name suggests is next to a lake.

We sat by the lake, watching nightfall gradually creep up on us, reflecting on the experiences of the day. I had now ridden my bike over 100 miles two days in row for the first time ever. We were covering quite a lot of ground, but I had started wishing I could spend a little more time in some of these places, particularly Old Forge, a town with a lot of activities and natural scenery, and a town I would barely be in for 12 hours, 7 of which would be sleeping. Still, I was enjoying myself, and finally broadening my view of what this entity known as New York really is; beyond the City and Long Island where I spent my childhood.

Niagara Falls: Where My Journey Begins

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For most visitors to this iconic location, Niagara Falls is the ultimate destination. It is the place one travels to, spends some time at, and then subsequently travels home from. When I think of Niagara’s typical visitors, I think of a family from a place like New York, that made the grueling six hour drive to get there, and will make the grueling six hour drive home.

I guess my sometimes fanatical quest to not be like “normal people”, whatever that means, is working. I certainly do not feel normal. My day, which began with an 1:15 A.M. flight out of Denver, involved traveling from airport to airport carrying not luggage or a back pack of sorts, but two panniers, one in each hand.

In a way my journey actually began at a tiny bike shop in Niagara, NY called Beeton’s Cyclery.

I need to give this place a serious shout out. I shipped my bike here. It arrived on Friday, June 24th. I told them I needed it by Monday, and they were able to get the bike assembled (to package a bike for shipping, the pedals, handlebars, seat, and front tire must be removed) and apply new handlebar stripping in time for me to arrive late morning Monday and start my voyage.

I brought my passport, knowing that I wanted to visit the Canadian side of the falls. Anyone who has been to Niagara told me that the Canadian side was “better”. I wasn’t sure what that meant. The contrast between the two sides is quite stark. Niagara, NY is sort of depressing. I had trouble finding a place to grab a snack, while I gazed ahead at tall buildings and casinos on the other side.

Still, I wanted to see the falls from the U.S. side first. The plan was to meet up with my friends on the other side and spend the evening there.

On the American side, the view of the falls is somewhat awkward.

Well, it is from he riverfront. There is this overlook, where theoretically the view is spectacular, but it costs like $18 to go on it, so I didn’t.

Getting to the falls on the Canadian side involved going over the same bridge that cars travel over. The toll for bikes is only $.50 (I believe cars is $3.50), but I still had to wait in the same traffic cars wait in to cross into Canada.

Once I crossed the border, I realized why most of the tourist attractions, hotels, and buildings and such were on he Canadian side of the border. By happenstance of geography, the views from this side of the river are better.

This includes both falls that make up what is called “Niagara Falls”, the American Falls, which are on the U.S. side of the river, which splits around an island, and Horseshoe Falls, which are on the Canadian side. Both falls are magnificent. Horseshoe Falls is more powerful, but I actually prefer American Falls, particularly the way the water hits he rocks and sort of foams up. Both falls are best viewed from Canada.

I’ve always loved waterfalls for some reason. Much like one’s taste in music or art, it is not something that can be explained. Waterfalls just feel natural to me, they feel peaceful and even sometimes graceful.

In the world of waterfalls though, Niagara Falls is pretty much the opposite of any of the waterfalls I typically view out West. Waterfalls in the west, such as the Lower Falls of the Yellowstone, tend to be tall and skinny, falling a much greater vertical distance, but carrying much less water. Niagara is high volume but the vertical drop is actually less than 200 feet.

I also could never imagine waterfalls in the west being as commercialized as these. In addition to the $18 charge for getting on the overlook in the New York side, the town of Niagara Falls, Ontario is filled with every establishment one would expect to find in a tourist trap packed together at a density I have only seen in one place before; Gatlinburg, Tennessee.

Gatlinburg, like Estes Park, is outside a popular National Park. The hotels, mini golf, and Ripley’s Believe it or Not, are miles away from the iconic natural beauty that made those places worth preserving through the National Park system. All of these places in Niagara Falls are within a mile or so of the falls. In fact, one can get another perspective of the falls by riding a ferris wheel next to the mini golf course across from the laser tag.

Tomorrow a long journey by bicycle begins. Tonight, I get to continue to savor these falls, as they are lit up at dusk as part of a nightly illumination. This, like the rest of town, adds a man made touch to a natural phenomenon. Some love it, some hate it, most find a way to enjoy it regardless of the opinion they expose. As for me, my focus turns to the days ahead, for unlike most of the others watching the illumination, my journey is only beginning.

A Mental Health Day

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I feel like I have over 100 things on my mind, all vying for space, all wearing me out. All the changes I see around me. The shocks, the craziness, the idiocy. The selfishness. My personal shortcomings, recent mistakes, how my life’s path ended up where it is and what to do about it. How do we find a balance between order and chaos? All the ways in which the people around me have let me down. All the ways I let the people around me down. How do I keep the benefits of having a smart phone (like being able to take pictures like this, after 28 miles of bicycling, which would have been tough carrying a heavier device) but avoid the pitfalls of mindless scrolling on weekdays when bored? What is my future, and how do I find my niche? What is the future of our society? The mindless violence followed by the sometimes equally idiotic responses to it. Globalization. Trump, Brexit, and the backlash to globalization. But, most of all, the disappointments when experiences do not match expectations.

Simply put, I needed a mental health day. I think we all do from time to time. A day where we get away from jobs, computers, social media, day-to-day responsibilities, pretty much everything that causes us stress, and do something that we enjoy. This, of course is something different for everybody, and it is not up to me to judge what any one person does for their mental health days. Well, unless of course it is something morally reprehensible like murder or theft.

I have a firm belief in, and also a unique take on, the connection between mind, body, and spirit. Over the course of my life, and in observing others, it is almost impossible not to observe the connection between the three. I remember winters in Chicago, and other times when lack of exercise would in turn weigh on my mind and spirit. Overall, improvements in one of the three realms often force improvements in the other two. Likewise, a deterioration in one of the three realms can negatively impact the other two, like the person who develops an eating disorder after a rough breakup.

So, I decided to make my mental health day also a physical health day, with a bike ride to Roxborough State Park. This is a ride I did two years ago. The basic gist is that it is 28 miles each way, goes by Chattfield Reservoir, and is a significant climb over the last five or six miles.

Wednesday’s ride was even more exhausting, as temperatures soared into the 90s and a Southerly wind developed making the last several miles of climbing in harder. Needless to say, I arrived at Roxborough exhausted. In fact, I had to sit inside for about 15 minutes to cool off when I got there.

Still, I decided to do some hiking. Knowing that my legs were exhausted, I decided to stick to moderate trails, but ones where I can still view the essence of the park and what makes it geologically unique.

It was after roughly 1.5 miles of hiking that the ideas suddenly started popping into my head. Ideas about things I could be doing with my life just entered my mind. I could do this, and present it to these people, and achieve fulfillment in this manner. They just kept pouring in, and, for some reason, felt so simplistic to me. Like, the only thing I need to do is just go out and do these things.

These are all things that frustrate the hell out of me day and night. Maybe it is because all of the physical exertion caused my mind to slow down enough for my brain to stop over-thinking things. Maybe it is the freedom from all of the distractions of daily life. It’s strange what I was contemplating. Whenever I am in front of a computer, at an office, in a cube, or in some kind of work-like setting all of the ideas I have seem almost impossible, like a daunting challenge that would take years to attempt and would likely not result in any meaningful success. In a way, there, I feel stuck. Here, not so much. Here, the same exact ideas seem quite possible.

It is here that the conspiracy theorist in me gets activated, so please bare with me, as I am the kind of person that just likes to entertain theories, even if I am not necessarily going to conclude that they are true. I wonder if cubicles, offices, sedentary days and the like are the way “the system” maintains itself. By “the system” I mean what I am observing around me. A whole generation of highly educated people going to work at jobs that are well beneath the skill level they develop through college, and increasingly, post-granulate, education. A whole generation of people submitting to rules, such as a strict 9-5 schedules and dress codes, that are no longer relevant for the kind of work that now predominates in a service sector economy. Is the reason people continue down this path the manner in which a whole day of sitting at a computer connected to the internet and all of its distractions make them feel?

People visit Roxborough State Park, and the geologically similar and more well-known Garden of the Gods, because they are unique. If this place looked like every other place on Earth, people would not make a specific point of coming here. So, maybe the key to being the kind of person people seek after, is to be unique. After all, the person you meet at the party that is exactly like everyone else, is the person you don’t remember. Sorry to be harsh. But, it’s when someone does something unique, or interesting, that you remember that person. Strangely, though, the world of school, and subsequently work, encourages conformity. It encourages people to follow the worn out path and do things the way they are always done. Maybe overcoming that conditioning and doing things our own way is the key to life, both in terms of success and happiness.

When You Don’t Appreciate What You Have

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It’s Memorial Day, and there is a lot on my mind. Part of me feels like I “should be” doing something way more substantial this weekend, as it is one of three big weekends that define summer here in the United States. I can’t stop thinking about all of the sales and shopping going on this weekend. And, then, of course, I end up thinking about the ACTUAL meaning of the holiday; remembering those who have died fighting for my country. Many people in the military, or closely associated with someone in the military, lament what this holiday has become, all about grilling in the park, going to stores, partying, etc.

I “stayed home” this weekend, which for my standards (as an antsy person) means I stayed within the Denver-Boulder-Castle Rock area. I needed to take it easy. My next two months are packed with activities. Also, most places I would go would have been particularly crowded this weekend.

Confluence Park is a mere three miles from my home, and right in the middle of Downtown Denver. In fact, when I worked in Lower Downtown (LoDo), I was able to walk here from my office on lunch hours. I ended up being here at a very unique time of year. The river that runs through the center of town, the South Platte, has its origins in the higher terrain of the Central Rocky Mountains. Above 10,000 feet, snow continues to fall, and temperatures remain chilly through much of Spring. By this time of year, that snow is melting rapidly, swelling rivers like this one with rapidly moving, cold water. It seems like the water levels reach their highest sometime around Memorial Day.

I sat in Confluence Park with my feet in the water for roughly half an hour. I moved around from time to time, from rock to rock, feeling the sensation of the rapid stream flow in varying patterns, with different bumps, and eddies at different spots along the river. I even stood on top of a mini-water fall for a bit.

I thought about all of the people, running around from store to store, looking for something new today. I even thought of myself, and how I am always looking for new places to travel, new experiences, etc.

I even thought of the other activities I took part in this weekend.

Saturday’s brewery tour by bicycle.

Sunday’s hike up Green Mountain, to a place where one can see multiple 14,000 foot peaks in one direction and Denver’s skyline in the other.

None of these activities required traveling a long distance, or buying any fancy equipment. A basic bike, a basic pair of sneakers will due.

Sometimes it seems like we spend way too much time looking for something new, and not enough time appreciating what we already have. After all, whether it be a place to view the skyline from above (something I did not have when I lived in Chicago), or a year old pair of shoes, everything we have was once new, was once exciting, and was once a thing we were happy to obtain. Are we still happy to have it? Are we still enjoying it?

Some of us have more than others. But, no matter how much or how little any one of us has, the one thing each and every one of us has is ourselves. We have our bodies, and what we are capable of doing. We have our minds, the things we think of, the way we reason, etc. And, we have our spirits, our attitudes, what makes us excited for life, what makes us empathize with one another, and what makes us stand up for what we believe in when necessary. This is definitely something we should all learn to appreciate. If we all spent more time appreciating ourselves, maybe we would have a more positive outlook, and a more positive impact on the world around us.

Exploring New Mexico

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IMG_5660 (1).jpg The northbound journey out of Santa Fe, along highway 84 towards Pojoaque, and Espanola could not possibly feel any more Southwestern. Rolling hills are covered with bushes and sagebrush. There are some trees here, but unlike in the East, their impact on the wide open landscape is minimal. They are but mere dots, small points in a panoramic image that shows off the entirety of the landscape of the region, stretching for miles and miles. As a consequence, mountain ranges can be seen in the distance in multiple directions.

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Artwork depicting the culture of the American Southwest can be seen quite frequently along this entire stretch of highway, on roadside decorations, bridges, and even buildings in the distance. There is something about sculptures and murals like these that invariantly make me think of the Southwest, even when I am in a completely different region. The use of colors in particular are reminiscent of this region, warm and dry but still American. The colors are warm, reds, oranges, browns. Even when they use “cool” colors, like green and blue, these murals somehow find a way to make these colors feel warmer than they typically do in other drawings and signage.

I wonder, as much of the artwork of the region originated with the Native tribes that thrived in the area roughly a millennium ago, if the styles that came to be predominant in this region are a mere reflection of the manner in which the landscape, and climate, impact the human psyche. And, is this an aspect of human nature that transcends culture? Did the Spanish, and White and Hispanic people who would later inhabit the region adopt similar artistic styles because they were responding to the same conditions around them and reflecting them in a similar manner?

The reason I was headed in this direction out of Santa Fe, other than just merely to explore, which I do believe is a reasonable pursuit in of itself, was the desire to see one of the most significant, but also confusing places in the United States; Los Alamos. Los Alamos is a place where some of the top scientists in the world came together during World War 2 in order to build the nuclear weapons that eventually ended the war.

Of course, at the time, it wasn’t the Japanese, but the Germans who were the main subject of concern. It was rumored that the Nazis were building this capability, which could have significantly altered the course of the war. The Manhattan Project was both highly secretive (Americans were largely unaware this was going on at the time), and quite controversial, as it still is today.

The entire area has a feel that continues to reflect how Los Alamos came about. Headed towards town, on highway 502 West from Pojoaque, road signs indicate that the stretch of highway is a “safety corridor”. What does that even mean? I have never seen this before. Anywhere else, this road would have a higher speed limit, less fines, and would likely not have three lanes in each direction. Something must be going on here. But, is it still going on? If so, what? And, how much of a secret is it?

The truth is, Los Alamos is a place like no other place on earth, and like the rest of New Mexico, cannot be placed in a specific category. It is, indeed, a place where discoveries are made. But, unlike many other towns with major labs, and I am particularly thinking of Boulder, Colorado, which is near my home, it does not appear laid back at all. After parking, I had an intense experience crossing the street to get to the Bradbury Science Museum. This crosswalk had a walk/ don’t walk voice command that spoke words with a level of urgency that appeared to highlight the National Security and wartime origins of this town. It felt as if 70 years later, the mindset had never really changed from its wartime heritage. Or, in the very least, the town had kept its infrastructure, which was built specifically for time of extremely heightened security.

The Bradbury Museum is quite well done, and for those traveling on a budget, is free.

I’d say slightly over half of the museums exhibits focus on the Manhattan Project, the A-Bomb and the original history of the laboratory. However, the laboratory is operational, and has been involved in some high caliber research over the last 70 years, in areas such as cancer detection, energy conservation, and wildfire prevention. It is amazing to think, the same place, the same people, the same lab, and the same knowledge base was used both to create the most destructive item on the face of the earth, nuclear weapons, but also to advance humanity and help countless people better their lives!

One of the reasons Los Alamos was selected as the location for this top secret lab, was that it had to attract top scientists, many of the young at the time, to a project that likely meant years in seclusion. While these young scientists would not have the benefits of urban nightlife, for Los Alamos, and the laboratory, they found an area with plenty of opportunity for outdoor activities. The volume of hiking trails throughout Los Alamos County (a relatively small county) reflects this history.

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Just West of town, and the lab, is a large area known as the Santa Fe National Forest. This National Forest, in many ways resembles the National Forests that can be found throughout Colorado. In fact, I can picture many of the same activities, backpacking, camping, and with the Jemez River, water activities such as fishing and boating.

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The main difference I felt, between here and many of the forested areas of Colorado I regularly frequent for hikes and such, is that this area seemed significantly less crowded- emptier.

Along highway 4, the main road through the forest, there is one area hot spot, a unique natural feature known as the Soda Dam, a waterfall the flows between a rock along the Jemez River.

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Not only does this area feature a waterfall unlike any other place on earth, but there are geothermal features that make this river a popular pseudo hot spring. I say pseudo- hot spring, as the water is not really hot, as it is in some areas where water temperatures resemble that of a hot tub. It is just simply warmer than you would expect it to be given its high altitude origins. It was warm enough that people were able to comfortably swim in it.

It is an area that is just simply peaceful and panoramic, the kind of place where one can simply turn off the wheels that churn in their heads as a result of everyday life, and just sit, swim, float, or fish, gazing in the distance at the majesty of the region. Two weeks later, I still gaze at this very photograph and feel as if I am entering a much more peaceful state of mind. I almost need to place it in front of my desk, as a stress reliever.

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The entire west is full of areas like this, where, due to unique geological history, the rocks take on a reddish color. This is the color that many associated with the American Southwest. Although most of Central New Mexico is much browner, especially in April, a section of bright red suddenly appears at the South end of Santa Fe National Forest, along highway 4, at the border of Jemez Pueblo, yet another Native American village.

The day ended with a final drive down highway 550 towards Albuquerque, where the Sandia Mountains, largely to the City’s Northeast, drew gradually closer as the drive progressed.

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Thinking about all of the beautiful places I saw over the course of the day, my main regret is spending too much of the day in the car, and not being able to stop, hike, float, walk around, and just get immerced in area. As a travel enthusiast who unfortunately has responsibilities at home, it is all too easy to get into the trap of planning too many activities for too short of a period of time. This often makes travel feel rushed, like there is too little time to experience some of the places we see. Luckily, I live in Colorado, and therefore can get similar experiences, National Forest recreation areas and such, closer to home. But, there are some subtle differences, and things that make this area unique. I would very much like to come back here at a much more relaxed pace, and experience another side of New Mexico life.

Iceland Air’s Glacier Hike and Northern Lights Tour

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As part of their push to encourage tourism in Iceland, Iceland Air now offers a variety of one-day excursions that travelers can embark on whether they are visiting Iceland specifically, or taking a stopover on their way between Europe and North America. These one-day tours offer a variety of options for experiences, including which places to visit and what types of activities to take part in. For all of them, the general idea is the same; a bus picks tourists up at various hotels in Reykjavik, and gives visitors what basically amounts to a one-day “Taste of Iceland”.

My tour of choice was the Glacier Hike and Northern Lights tour, which offers a lot of what I was looking for out of my time in Iceland. The Northern Lights is something I had never seen before. In America, we hear about such phenomenon occasionally. Roughly once a year, we will hear in the news about a particularly strong solar event occurring, and the potential for the Northern Lights to be visible much farther from the North Pole than is typical. Sometimes that zone would even reach the Northern parts of the United States, and news outlets would provide maps of where the lights could potentially be visible.

For years, living in Chicago, such stories would provide a particular brand of torment for someone that is curious about seeing the Northern Lights. It is not possible to see the Northern Lights from such a large, lit up city. One would need to travel somewhere less populated. To get outside the populated metropolitan area, I theoretically would be able to travel in any direction, but it makes little sense not to go North, as the lights get better the farther north one travels. However, North of Chicago is Milwaukee, and the area in between the two cities is populated enough to make it less than ideal for viewing the phenomenon. So, the prospect of getting in a car and driving out to see the Northern Lights was always a multi-hour trip. Some combination of time constraints, or frequent wintertime cloudiness in the Midwest always stopped me from driving up to Central Wisconsin (or Central Michigan) to try to see the Northern Lights.

The tour started like every one of the Iceland Air excursions, with a mid-sized bus going from hotel to hotel picking people up. The bus went to about six different hotels to make pick-ups, finally leaving Reykjavik around noon. The tour group was quite mixed. There were a couple of other Americans, a few Canadians, and even two people from France on our tour, but the majority of the group was from Great Britain. I have relatively little experience traveling to Europe (this trip, and a trip to Italy, Austria, and Germany in 2012), but on both occasions I ended up hanging out with tourists from the UK, specifically England. I don’t know what that says about America, or who I am as a person, or if it is just due to a common language, but I am curious to see if that happens again next time I go to Europe.

Driving East out of Reykjavik, towards Iceland’s South Coast area, the first thing I notice, which is common throughout Iceland are lava fields. Across much of Iceland, the land is covered with ashes from previous volcanic activity.

The previous day, I had learned at the Volcano House in Reykjavik that Iceland is one of the most volcanically active places in the world, as it sits on the ridge between the North American and Eurasian plates, which are drifting apart from one another. In geologic terms, this is actually happening quite quickly. On average, a volcano occurs somewhere on the Island once every 5 years, and as the plates pull apart, the Island is literally growing at a rate of 2 cm per year. 50 years from now, Iceland will be 1m wider than it is now!

About 30 minutes into the trip, the bus passed by the hotel where one of the scenes in the 2013 film The Secret Life of Walter Mitty took place. In the movie the volcano Eyjafjallajökull erupts, and Walter is lucky enough to have been picked up by a friendly local to escape before being covered in ashes. In real life, this gigantic volcano erupted quite explosively in 2010. In the most unfortunate of circumstances, the wind happened to be coming from the Northwest that day, and the ashes covered the sky over Great Britain and much of mainland Europe halting air traffic for several days.

The next stop on this tour was Skógafoss, one of Iceland’s largest waterfalls. Iceland is not only a hot spot for volcanoes, but it is also a hot spot for waterfalls. This is due to the glaciers, which cover 15% of the land area of the island, the terrain and relatively moderate maritime climate. Waterfalls like this can be found all over Iceland, and they probably look even more amazing in summer, when the ground appears lush and green!

The main event of this tour, the Glacier hike, worked for me on multiple levels. I love being outside, hiking and getting some exercise. There are many times, when on vacation, I purposely try to find the most strenuous activities possible. I especially do this when I am on a cruise or in some other kind of vacation package, where I know an activity does not need to be super challenging, or even that physically exhausting for them to be labelled as such. I also got to try something new, hiking with crampons. Now, I am not sure they were absolutely necessary for this particular hike, as back in Colorado I had hiked in areas that were steeper and more slippery and gotten by without them. But, I did learn how to use them, how to attach them to my hiking boots, and how to walk with them on, a good thing to know for future activities down the road.

In addition, the glacier, and what our tour guides told us about it was quite fascinating from a scientific perspective. Apparently, this particular glacier is receding at a fairly rapid pace. Along our hike, the tour guides pointed out where the glacier used to end in past years compared to where it ends now. As recently as 2010, the glacier covered nearly all of the area near the entrance of the park that we traversed before getting onto the current glacier. When this portion of the glacier melted, a gigantic lake was left behind in the lower lying area.

The tour guides then informed us that we are actually witnessing a the formation of a fjord. Roughly an hour into the hike, we had climbed to roughly 100m above sea level. However, the ice was thicker, somewhere between 150m and 200m. Over time, the ice had pushed the land beneath it below sea level. Once these glaciers melt, the area will be under water, creating a fjord in this very spot. This is one of many spots where this process is happening as we speak.

As a weather enthusiast, who had studied meteorology, I asked the tour guides what the primary mechanism was for the melting glacier. Specifically, I asked if it was reduced winter snowfall or warmer summer temperatures. They indicated that both were contributing factors, but also mentioned that, since temperatures in Iceland are commonly quite close to freezing, the area was starting to see precipitation fall in the form of rain (as opposed to snow) more frequently. I could sense that, as even on this February day, the snow I stood upon was quite wet.

But that was not even the most fascinating scientific aspect of this tour. Almost everyone is familiar with climate change, and it’s become the subject of sometimes-ridiculous debate. The most fascinating thing I learned about this glacier is that fact that, due to the presence of volcanic ash, the glacier is creating terrain that is constantly changing. Here, volcanic eruptions spill out on top of the ice, causing ice to melt faster in some areas. The ice then flows in a manner that brings more ice into areas that are currently in “valleys”. Even when there is no new volcanic activity, the cycle of ice flow and differential melting can happen rapidly enough that each year the terrain of any given section of ice is significantly different from the previous year. Literally, if I were to return to Iceland at the same time next year, and come to this very glacier, the hike would be significantly different, as the terrain would have been significantly modified. Amazing!

The glacier hike concluded a little after sun down, which was right around 6:00 P.M. After the hike, the tour bus took us to a hotel restaurant in the area for a traditional Icelandic meal. To my surprise, the meal did not involve fish. For some reason, I had this impression that since Iceland is an island in the North Atlantic, it would be a place where almost every meal consisted of fish. Instead, the traditional Icelandic meal was a hearty meat soup.

On the tour bus, I learned that the Icelandic cow, which is a special breed of cow that is smaller than the ones most of the world is familiar with is quite popular on Icelandic farms (they actually once voted in favor of keeping the cow over switching to a more efficient Norwegian cow). In addition to these cows, many farms also keep lamb and sheep.

After dinner we drove in search of an ideal place to view the Northern Lights. This involved driving around and looking at weather conditions in a manner that actually seems reminiscent of storm chasing. We drove around for hours, and every time it felt like we had found the right conditions (i.e. clear skies), something would change. At one point, sometime between 9 and 10 P.M., as drove through an area where it suddenly started to snow! At 11:30 I was in despair. We were clearly headed back into Reykjavik, and I thought we were just going back to the hotel. After all, the tour does not guarantee that the Northern Lights will be seen. It can’t be guaranteed. The weather is always changing, and the solar activity, which leads to the Aurora phenomenon, is also quite variable.

Oddly enough, though, just after midnight, we pulled into a pier on the far West end of town, along the shores of the Atlantic Ocean, on a peninsula. Our tour guide informed us that we would now be able to view the lights, and, sure enough, they appeared. I was unable to capture them on camera in a manner that would do this amazing natural phenomenon any justice. I mostly just sat there, in awe, watching the lights glow and move from side to side along the horizon. I thought about how amazing this phenomenon was. I wondered if people who lived here took it for granted, noticed it less, the same way many people become less appreciative of what is in their own back yards. At the end, I just thought about what an amazing day it was, from when the tour began, over twelve hours ago, until now, ending with this amazing light display.

An Eerie Feeling on Guanella Pass

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Those that love to travel, whether they be the rare few, the people who get to travel for a living, or those who find a way to travel as much as possible, understand that Planet Earth is full of amazing places! One of the things that makes traveling interesting is the wide variety of types of places to visit, all of which will produce different scenery, and different experiences. It is nearly impossible to describe or capture the true range of experiences one could theoretically attain through travel, but the Discovery Channel’s Planet Earth Series does a pretty good job.

When people come to visit me here in Denver, I typically take them, in some capacity, into the mountains. I will particularly ensure that a trip to the mountains gets on the agenda if I get visitors from places like Chicago, which couldn’t be further from any kind of mountain range. After all, one of the reasons we travel is to see things we do not typically see. From Denver, it doesn’t typically take too long to get somewhere spectacular. About half an hour west of downtown, there is a segment of I-70 where the full prominence of the Central Rocky Mountains suddenly appears in quite spectacular fashion. I remember being amazed by the view that pops out in front of me the first time I traveled up I-70. Many photographs have been taken from this location, and it was even noted as a point of interest at the History Colorado Center.

Now that I have lived in Denver for over three years, a short excursion into the mountains typically takes me to a place I have already been, sometimes even a place I have been numerous times. However, as is noted by the Planet Earth video series, these places often look quite different during different seasons. Those that visit Colorado in the winter or spring will see mountains covered with snow. This view, from I-70 near Genesee, will look significantly different, likely in just a few weeks.

October is sometimes a tricky time of year to determine activities in Colorado’s Rocky Mountains. It is that transition season where often times conditions are no longer favorable for summer activities (and many of the seasonal roads have already closed for the season), but a significant snowpack has yet to develop. This fall has been anomalously warm here in Colorado, and the extent of the snowpack that has developed in the mountains appears in this picture below.

However, according to the National Operational Hydrologic Remote Sensing Center (NOHRSC), by mid-late October, the typical snowpack over the high terrain of the Central Rocky Mountains is still less than a foot (and not consistent year to year).

This map displays snow depth anomalies for Sunday, October 18th according to the NOHRSC. The actual snow depth, across the entire region, was zero. The anomalies show just how far below normal this is, which, in the highest terrain on this map, falls into the 4 to 8 inch range, indicating that even at locations above 14,000 feet, there is typically not too much snowpack by mid-October.

Knowing that most seasonal roads would still be open due to the lack of snow, but with somewhat limited time for an excursion into the mountains, we opted to take a trip over Guanella Pass, which is still less than an hour’s drive from Denver. Despite having been there several times, the experience for me was already new, as a new paved road had just been built, connecting the town of Grant, along highway 285, with Georgetown, along I-70. This new road is likely to get mixed reactions, as traveling along it is now much easier (and now possible without AWD). However, there are sections of this pass that are popular among campers, particularly people looking for a quiet camping experience. On Sunday’s excursion, I encountered several groups of motorcycles. The prevalence of motorcycles, and the noise they make, could possibly make some of the Guanella Pass campers seek a more remote experience elsewhere.

Without having to focus on driving over rocks and bumps, I noticed places I simply did not notice on previous drives up Guanella Pass, like this waterfall.

However, that was not the full extent of the new experience I had on Sunday. The final approach to the summit took me above the tree line, where I suddenly got an eerie feeling from what was around me.

It’s hard to describe. It felt almost like I was on another planet. It was isolated. Most of the time that we stopped at the summit, we were the only ones there, and my car was the only one on the road. The sagebrush of the alpine tundra had taken on brown color that I am not accustomed to seeing. Some combination of the sun angle, unusual ground color, and isolation definitely gave me a really strange feeling. It was eerie, creepy, out of this world, I really did not know what to make of it. It was just, well, strange.

However, I came back feeling glad that different seasons can create different experiences out of the same places. Typically, when I make the trek up to elevations just above the tree line, there is one of two experiences.

The alpine tundra is white in winter (and often still white well into the springtime), and green and lush in the summer. In October, though, it took on a whole new color, one I had not seen before.

This planet has plenty of places that are unique, unlike any other place on earth. Some of them even feel out of this world. Sunday’s experience at Guanella Pass reminded me of two things. A lot of these unique experiences that we plan trips to get to are seasonally dependent. And, sometimes these experiences can happen unexpectedly.

Mohawk Lakes, A Moderate Hike in Central Colorado

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Sometimes recreation in Central Colorado can be just plain overwhelming. I remember when I was preparing to move to Colorado, and took a look at a Colorado DeLorme atlas I had just purchased. DeLorme makes an atlas for every state in the country. These atlases are great for those who love outdoor recreation. Not only are features such as campgrounds, hiking trails, waterfalls, and parks labeled on the maps themselves, but each map contains a dozen or so pages in which hot spots are listed. These include key places to camp, fish, hunt, hike, bike, and such, as well as a list of “unique natural features”. When I looked through my Colorado DeLorme atlas, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of options available to me for many of the activities I enjoy. I kept wondering, though, how the heck I would go about something like picking a place to hike when there are so many options. I was actually worried that some days I would end up going nowhere due to analysis paralysis.

The most effective networks, whether they be all of the trail networks in parts of Colorado, or New York City’s network of subways, are overwhelming, and sometimes take awhile to learn. However, the same way any New Yorker can get by without owning a car, due to all of the train lines in the city, a Coloradan can find the right hike for many different situations and many different desired experiences.

Last Friday I had a friend in town from Chicago who does not get to experience mountains on a regular basis. On previous trips I had taken him to Rocky Mountain National Park. This time, I wanted to take him somewhere different to see some different scenery in a different part of the state.

The most talked about hikes in this part of the State tend to be the “14ers” to the South. These hikes tend to be challenging, and, sometimes are just as much about accomplishing something (particularly to some people) as it is about the experience of hiking.

By contrast, the Spruce Creek Trail certainly fits into the “moderate” category for difficulty. The first part of the trail is kind of a mixture of flatter and steeper areas.

Roughly two miles into the hike we encountered this random cabin that still seemed partially functional. With a stove and a ladder that leads to an upstairs area it is reminiscent of the cabins that people purchase as second homes. However, it was kind of in disrepair and there were several holes in the floor. Still, I wonder what this cabin is used for. Do people actually stay here at night from time to time? Did people originally stay here when this place was built? Is it used for some other purpose, like filleting fish, or fleeing storms from time to time? After all, this cabin is fairly close to the first major lake one encounters on this hike- Mayflower Lake.

It is around here that the trail reaches somewhat of a point of inflection. Above this elevation, the trail becomes steeper. I honestly should have expected this type of experience. One thing I note every time I ski at Breckenridge ski resort is the fact that the steeper terrain tends to be on the higher parts of the mountain. If I ski on Peaks 7, 8, or 9, which is the part of the mountain closest to town and the lower part, I notice that any run I chose becomes progressively flatter as I descend. The Mohawk Lakes, and the Spruce Creek Trail are seriously no more than 3 or 4 miles from the boundary of the ski resort. Therefore, it makes perfect sense that one would experience the same kind of terrain.

The trail encounters Continental Falls several times as it switches back and forth across the mountain. The last several hundred feet of climbing up to Lower Mohawk Lake is somewhat of a scramble making it quite different from the smooth and well marked trails that we started out on.

It was already nearly 1 P.M. when we arrived at Lower Mohawk Lake. We stopped to eat lunch and decided to forgo hiking all the way to Upper Mohawk Lake, a decision I eventually came to regret after learning that we would only have had to hike an additional 0.4 miles, and only climb another 250 feet or so.

I have really come to appreciate this time of year; September, early fall. There is a lot of pleasant weather, and many people have even told me this is the best time of year for hiking in Colorado. In the summertime, particularly in August, there is a daily thunderstorm threat associated with the North American Monsoon. This year that threat ended right after Labor Day when the prevailing weather patterns changed ushering in a drier period for Colorado. On Labor Day I got caught in a brief afternoon thunderstorm. There has not been one since. It is almost as if Mother Nature was aware of, and chose to abide by, our society’s labeling of Labor Day as the “end of summer”. In August mid-afternoon would typically bring at least some major cloud formations reminding hikers of the thunderstorm threat. Last Friday the sky remained clear throughout the day.

I actually think I could not have picked a more ideal time for this particular hike. One thing I hear about the Spruce Creek Trail is that it is prone to becoming muddy during periods of heavier precipitation. These types of trails can be problematic in early summer when there is heavier stream flow. The later part of this summer, and now September, has been much drier across Colorado.

The hike ended up being exactly what we had wanted; a moderately challenging hike that brought us to some unique scenery. There are many places, both geographic, and in life, where one cannot just go about finding a trail that matches the desired experience exactly. Whether it be picking a place to hike, chosing a neighborhood to purchase a home, or picking a place of employment, sometimes the option that matches exactly what we want simply is not available at the right time. So, we end up finding something that is pretty good, a decent match, but not exactly 100% the experience we had been looking for. It’s just a part of life. But, here outside of Breckenridge, I found the trail that matched exactly what we wanted, and am thankful for it.

The Action Story

Learning about the world and about ourselves through travel and experiences

Category Archives: Unique Natural Features

Backpacking in the Weminuche Wilderness: Day 1

Glenwood Springs: Where Canyon Country Begins

100 Miles of Rolling Hills Through Central New York

Niagara Falls: Where My Journey Begins

A Mental Health Day

When You Don’t Appreciate What You Have

Exploring New Mexico

Iceland Air’s Glacier Hike and Northern Lights Tour

An Eerie Feeling on Guanella Pass

Mohawk Lakes, A Moderate Hike in Central Colorado