An account of the American Southwest

One of my greatest problems with humanity is that in order to become an active member of a community you have to abandon the vibrant imagination that guides your life as a child. Things through the eyes of a child are brilliant; they are explorative, as though in the early years of your life you paint portraits with colors not known to adults. Anything can be possible when you think about it without the nagging presence of rationality or consequences. The change that most children go through towards adulthood is an important transformation, but I can think of few individuals who have not from time to time, perhaps even subconsciously, wished that they still believed as they did when they were a child, that to fly you simply had to tie a cape around your neck and jump.



Beyond some very basic responsibilities (eg, food, water, etc.), this road trip has given us the opportunity to live life as children again, to imagine and wonder, ponder and wander, to unleash our imaginations on an immensely geographically and culturally diverse world. It seems fair to suggest that our only real responsibility outside of taking care of ourselves (arguably all that keeps us tied to the regiment of normal life) is updating our blog; a task that becomes more difficult as we pass in and out of internet access. And so it came to pass that from May 10th thru May 17th we were without internet access, concurrently loosening the chains that bind us to the outside world and abandoning (albeit briefly) the avid readers of Beerandtrees. This stretch of time took us through veritable gems in the American Southwest, some touristy, some overwhelming and some hidden in the last gasps of winter.

Though not even two weeks ago, it seems like ages since we left Santa Fe and took off towards the Grand Canyon. The drive took several hours, but with Jim Dale reading the second installment of Harry Potter over the speakers we were there before we knew it. I used to dread long drives, even the not so long ones. The two hours from Asheville to Charlotte seemed like such a nuisance, now eight hours in the car passes like a deep breath. Our destination was a campground just outside of Grand Canyon national park called Ten-X (I guess they named it after the Billy Blanks workout video that they filmed there in 2004…?). Despite the abundance of dry firewood warmth was hard to come by. The freezing nights forced most of us into all of our clothes and the five person party tent was sidelined for our smaller warmer tents. Were it not for the cold, the area was beautiful, an oasis of thick vegetation minutes from perhaps the most famous hole in the world.

The Grand Canyon was majestic and breathtaking and all of those other award winning words, but it wasn’t perfect. I found it to be a lesser version of its own legend. I suppose its major flaw is that once you have seen it, you have seen it; there is only so much of it you can see before it becomes what it is. The best piece of the Grand Canyon was the California condors.






These relics of the last ice age were introduced to the Grand Canyon within the last two decades and now there population has climbed to a few scores of individuals. Standing at almost 46 inches from foot to head with a wingspan of up to 12 feet, these gargantuan vultures soar atop the warm air currents that rise through the gorges. We watched these gliding aerialists ride the wind in utter astonishment for sometime, encapsulated by their flight techniques. Alas, the cool weather discouraged the Condors and we continued on soon ending our time in the Grand Canyon.

We departed from the Ten-X campground early in the morning noticing the extra space in the trunk, as we were wearing all of our clothes. After two nights in the cold, warmer weather would definitely be in our near future. On the menu for the day, get to Joshua Tree in southern California after a brief stint in Flagstaff, AZ sampling the local liquid.

Joshua Tree, the park, was named after Joshua Tree, the tree, which was given its name by a group of Mormons (of course). Upon arriving in this barren land in the 19th century, they noticed these very peculiar trees that seemed to “reach up towards the heavens”, reminding them of a biblical tale in which Joshua “reached up towards the heavens” (wikipedia).



We checked our national parks guide book and decided to stay at a camp ground called Jumbo rocks. I don’t know about anybody else, but there is something about the idea of JUMBO rocks that gets me really excited. It must be that reversion to childhood, but the probability of climbing on huge rocks is something that I will always look forward to. We arrived at Joshua tree long after the sun had set and spent the first half hour setting up camp and making dinner. As there was very little artificial light in the area our first encounter with the jumbo rocks was limited to the strength of our headlamps. When we stumbled out of our tent early the next morning we were confronted with acres of enormous rocks and boulders scattered across the landscape as though there had been an unsophisticated battle between tribes of giants. We spent most of our first day in the area climbing through crevasses and scaling small cliffs, pushing ourselves to the limit until the limit pushed back a little bit.





After two nights and as many days, we departed Joshua Tree with some great pictures, great memories and the lasting lacerations strewn across our hands.

We quickly grew tired of the warmer weather and the never ending presence of swamp back (if you know what swamp back is then you know, and if you don’t know then you don’t want to know), and took off towards the higher elevations of Sequoia National Park and Kings Canyon National Park in Central California (two separate parks, but they are connected and are run as one park). Again we turned to our national park book to get a tip on a great campground, only to determine that this early in the year there were only two campgrounds opened. As we ascended the mountain towards our refuge we began to notice small patches of snow on the side of the road. As 3000 feet turned to 4000, and soon after 5000, the small patches of snow turned to large patches and before we knew it we were engulfed in feet of snow with only the cleared road to guide us. We were planning on spending three nights in the park and did some laps around the campsite before settling on the most isolated and protected site. The presence of a small family of deer upon our arrival was a signal that this was the right site for us. While the snow was a hindrance, it also served to be our greatest ally. Several of the recommended hikes in the area were at the bottom of a descending two mile road, which at its entrance was lost behind a wall of cold wet white stuff (snow).



We started hiking down, at times staying atop the thick snow, often times sinking down a foot or so, but as the road dropped in elevation the snow thinned and soon revealed a perfectly suitable gravel road. This road eventually led to a trail that would take us through the largest grove of Sequoias in the world, and thanks to the intimidating snow at the beginning of the closed road we had it all to ourselves. The sequoias are immaculate, they are huge and old and for the most part fireproof. They tower above the landscape, and there thick and soft bark graces the forest with a dashing burnt orange flavor. They grow in population by dropping hard compact cones, which germinate in times of fires and form new trees. In times without fire, these cones along with a thick straight stick make the perfect wilderness baseball set. I find baseball to be mostly boring, but the void in the game can definitely be filled by a setting of millennia old trees. Though the birds aren’t very sophisticated spectators, I would prefer their commentary any day to the mundane repetition of Strrrriiiiike.





After a few innings we continued on spending most of the day lost in thick groves of Sugar pines, Ponderosas and Sequoias. I suppose the worst part about the Sequoias is that they are almost impossible to capture in a single image. Their mere size and density makes getting a sufficient angle on one almost impossible, but perhaps that is what makes them so intriguing. You have to actually see them to see them; no picture will ever suffice.

Moving from each of these parks to the next was like a dream, a dream in which you are never sure what is going to happen around the corner but the butterflies in your stomach tell you it must be amazing. Although we only had a few stops in this vast region of the United States, the geographic settings that we passed through were foreign and enlightening. Deserts high and cold, low and hot, huge gashes in the earth that support unreasonably large birds and an enormous forest plucked out of a Dr. Seuss story. If there is anything that aides the childlike feelings that begin to circulate as you move into the unknown it is the presence of things that remind you quite plainly of your small size. Huge birds, enormous trees, jumbo rocks and one of the biggest holes in the earth, that is what I will remember about these places, but also the grounding feeling of knowing that my time on earth is very temporary but these experiences are immortal.

Our longest period of successive National parks was inspiring, but as it came to a close it inspired us to get back to civilization to bathe properly. We took off towards San Francisco (Berkeley) to stay with Tyler’s cousin Leasie, celebrating what would be the last few days with Alan (silent K) as he would be leaving Beerandtrees to go birding in Oregon.