Hot Stuff

July 11, 2021 / L. Ryan Storms / Leave a comment

Original Post: July 29, 2015

As if driving through the Utah landscape wasn’t torture enough, we faced another scorching day. Leaving Bryce, we found the first place to shower since we’d left Missouri and I swore I heard a heavenly choir when I stepped into that shower stall. Or perhaps that was me. The bathroom was empty and everyone knows showers have great acoustics…

After showering and doing a quick load of laundry, we headed to the road and to Zion National Park. Talk about a phenomenal park entrance! Zion has an incredible road that travels straight through the mountain for 1.1 miles. The tunnel is exceptionally dark and it is, hands down, a million times cooler experience than driving the Lincoln Tunnel. Oh, right. The Lincoln Tunnel isn’t really that cool (at least if you’ve been in it a few dozen times). Plus, if you’re really daring, you can park your car near the entrance of this tunnel and walk through it. That’s right. There’s a walkway! And a “secret” window about halfway through that takes you to a lookout point – only viewable by foot. Nate and I said we were definitely going to do it, but time got away from us and we ended up missing that opportunity.

It was amazing to me that the views in Zion were so drastically different from those in Bryce Canyon just a few hours’ drive northeast. Everything in Zion was bigger, more solid, and yes, still breathtaking. The biggest shock, perhaps, came when we reached our campsite at Watchman Campground to find that it was 100% in direct sun, there was no shade in sight, it was 2 pm, 104 degrees, and the sun wasn’t due to set for another 6 hours at least.

Oh, and of all of the campgrounds I’d booked for this trip, it was the only one I’d managed to secure that was a walk-in site, meaning that we had to carry everything from our car in the parking lot to our campsite about 50 yards away. That doesn’t sound too awful until you start to do it in 104 degree heat and direct sunlight. It didn’t seem to matter how much water I consumed, I was sweating it out as fast as I could put it in. So much for that shower this morning.

We dragged our picnic table off the camp pad and next to the only tree around (which didn’t provide much shade, either) and watched a couple of fawns in the brush behind us as they warily kept an eye on us, trying to figure out whether they should continue foraging or take off in our presence. The temperatures didn’t seem to bother them in the least. I wished I had their outlook.

The heat didn’t do much for our nerves either. Nate was instantly annoyed with me for having booked such a site, even if our view was of The Watchman. And I felt horribly guilty as if I should somehow have known that the weather would be so unbearably and unseasonably (for the time of year, anyway) hot. Somehow, we managed not to bite each other’s heads off and decided that putting up the tent was out of the question. Instead, we headed to catch the shuttle bus through the park to hike the Emerald Pools. (Just like my spreadsheet said: 6/25/15 Zion, Hike Emerald Pools 1-4 pm.) I was in no mood to hike, but it seemed to be the only place where we might find some shade. And though spending hours in the gift shop was an option, I’m not much of a “crowd” person and the gift shop really wasn’t that big.

Photo credit: http://turville-photo.com/Resources/EmeraldPoolMini.jpg?55

Thankfully, once we joined the trail, temperatures immediately dropped in the shade and, though we were still sweating, it was no longer intolerably uncomfortable. We reach the Lower Pool after about an hour or so (it was a slow hike), and were surprised by how empty it seemed. Where was my gleaming pool that I was itching to photograph? It was supposed to look like this —>

It was underwhelming to say the least…but oh, right, there’s that little thing called evaporation that happens when it’s hotter than hell out. What I didn’t realize before coming to Zion was that what I actually wanted to see and believed I would see at the Emerald Pools was this (below):

(Photo credit: http://www.harrylichtman.com/imgs/gallery/17160/17160_9190466484ee17517119ea.jpg & Photo Credit: http://zuzog.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/80ec1fffa646c411111fe84b1d457da1.jpg)

Oh, I’d seen the photos and I couldn’t wait to see it in person. But, I didn’t do enough research into where exactly these particular Emerald Pools were located. These bad boys aren’t on the Emerald Pool trail at all. They’re on the Subway. That’s right. The Subway. (Because that’s just where gorgeous, natural, emerald-colored pools always are, right?) A 9.5 mile hike requiring 7 hours, rappelling skills, and one of 80 permits issued by the park per day – none of which I had. Well then.

But no disappointment lasts long in any national park. Our trail back led us to these cuties, and I managed to get at least one worthy landscape shot (of the trickle that barely flowed).

One thing we noticed in Zion, and even in the previous parks before, was that wildlife didn’t seem to be intimidated by humans at all. Sure, if you got too close, they’d take off, but most of the time you could walk right by and you’d get an ear flick or a tail swish as acknowledgement. It was like living in a Disney film. (I wonder what would have happened if I’d broken out in song… Ah, well. Too damn hot to try.)

When we reach our campground again, the site was still blazing hot. Dinner? You bet – someplace air conditioned, please. We ended up stopping at Flanigan’s Spotted Dog Cafe just outside the park. Once inside, the decor indicated that perhaps we were a bit underdressed (and undoubtedly wearing more sweat stains than necessary), but other patrons were similarly dressed and the hostess greeted us warmly. The menu looked fabulous and made me believe that this restaurant was really quite out of place. But, thank goodness. Air conditioning AND real food! It’s a minor miracle. For Nate – filet mignon. For me – pasta “purses” – homemade ravioli made from pear and ricotta and quite out of this world. If I ever end up on death-row (for a crime I didn’t commit, naturally), please note that I choose pasta purses from Flanigan’s to be my final meal. The view from our table (in the air conditioned cafe – did I mention that it was air conditioned?) was nothing short of spectacular.

By the time we left the cafe, the sun was near setting, but not down yet. I came up with the brilliant idea of — shopping! Off we went for a few necessities, a few souvenirs, and by the time we returned to the camp- ground, the sun was finally off the site. Oh, but it wasn’t so simple. Once we had the tent set up, the sand continued to bake us through the floor of the tent and the insulating layers we used as cushioning all night long. It was like sleeping on an electric blanket set to high heat. Great in the wintertime. Not so great when all you want to do is cool off!

Regardless we finally managed to get some rest…

…Until about 2 am. Ridiculous wind gusts we never could have imagined made the windows of the tent (which had remained open for air flow in our little oven) flap like an entire flock of birds. Raging nylon from every direction! We managed to secure everything down quickly and settle in again.

But now my mind was awake and turning. “I wonder what the sky looks like right now…” Finally, I gave in to the impulse, set up the camera and unzipped the tent.

Wow. Glad I did.

So, sometimes, my friends, when the wind wakes you up in the middle of the night, there’s a reason. You just have to figure it out. (This same reasoning does not apply to infants and toddlers, by the way. There is no way to figure that out. Ever.)

Yep, hot stuff alright. Definitely visit Zion National Park. In the spring. Or the fall. Or good God, any season but summer.

The Longest Drive

July 11, 2021 / L. Ryan Storms / 1 Comment

Original Post: July 27, 2015

The title of this post might be slightly misleading. The drive from Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness to Arches National Park was hardly the longest drive. Not even close, in fact, but there’s something about the Utah scenery (or lack thereof) that makes the drive exceptionally monotonous. The desert is initially amazing and we were instantly in love with the color and the scrub, but as hour upon hour passed, we were over it. It went something like this: mountain, rock, scrub brush, mountain, rock, scrub brush, rock, rock, scrub, scrub, rock, scrub, and so on and so forth…for four hours.

As a bonus, we reached Arches National Park about an hour earlier than expected. Suffice it to say that Arches is one park that I couldn’t possibly have realized the immensity of when I booked our stop. It was once again 100 degrees, though the sky was relatively overcast, which worked to our benefit in that we could walk without being in direct sun, but I was still disappointed that I wouldn’t get the chance to capture any amazing photos of arches with that incredible blue, blue Utah sky behind them.

If you ever have the urge to see Arches (and who doesn’t?), my recommendation is to take a few days to see the park. There are a ton of different arches to view and many of them can only be seen by hiking. That means lots of time, which we just didn’t have. The road through the park is well laid out and it’s a good substitute to actually hiking the park (especially in 100 degrees), but don’t expect to get close to some of the more well-known arches like Landscape Arch and Delicate Arch.

We were rewarded after a few hours with some bluer skies and we managed to get a few photos of brilliant orange-hued rocks against a more interesting background than cloud cover. If nothing else, it was nice to see the sun…especially since we were returning to our air-conditioned car after a short hike fighting through the crowded walkways filled with people of questionable intelligence. No, truly, we really encountered some true nuts. One such nut comes to mind instantly. We dubbed him goat-boy. (Though, believe me when I say that his act was not nearly as hilarious as that SNL skit years ago…) Crazy goat-boy jumped from rock to rock, running at full speed, and urged his parents to hurry because “this is the fastest way down.” (He was close to being correct. Had he stumbled, we would have seen him go down…really fast.) As it was, he ended his hike directly in front of us – by about two whole feet – on the walkway despite his ridiculous “Look at me!” antics. But we all know that teens are immortal, so I guess I should keep my stodgy old-lady opinions to myself.

Hooray, only a 5 hour drive from Arches to Bryce Canyon National Park. That’s nothing, right? Wrong.

Oh, so wrong.

Both Nate and I were convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that we were being featured in an episode of The Twilight Zone in which a warped time-space continuum meant that we were actually stuck in an endless loop, forced to live out our remaining days in the Utah desert, never actually reaching our destination. My proof:

How long until we ran out of water? Haven’t we seen this landscape before? I swear it was an hour ago when I looked at the clock, but it’s only registered that three minutes have passed. What is going on? We were nearly delirious by the time we reached Bryce Canyon. (And we DID finally reach Bryce Canyon.)

Real men wear coral. (I’m sorry…Cabela’s calls it ‘citrus.’)

About an hour from Bryce, we decided to stop for gas and to pick up a few grocery essentials, paper plates, bread, etc. It was a tiny town called Marysvale and it is exactly what you would expect to encounter when you believe you’re traveling in The Twilight Zone. The locals were sitting on the front porch of the convenience store and gave us the hairy eyeball as we walked inside. I guessed they didn’t see many outsiders on a regular basis. Or it could have been because they’ve never seen a man wear a shirt this color.

I suppose we could have purchased a Marysvale sweatshirt (yep, they really were for sale at the gas station/grocery store/ice cream shop/souvenir shop) so that he fit in a little better, but somehow I doubted that would have been adequate camouflage.

The entrance to Bryce Canyon National Park was impressive. Upon entering, the first thing we noticed was the drive through a squat tunnel carved out of the red Utah Rock. It was akin to driving through a wall (only without the resistance of a wall, naturally…). All in all, it was pretty spectacular. When we finally reached the campground, we set up camp and looked forward to doing nothing but sleeping. It was already early evening and I, for one, was tired of walking after having taken lots of short hikes in the heat around Arches earlier that day. Plus, I’m pretty sure my retinas were slightly burned out after staring at the desert for hours on end. I’m pretty certain that I’ll see scrub brush in my sleep for years to come. Perhaps I’ll see a doctor about that…

And yet, once again, temptation was too great. It was sunset. And going to the canyon rim at this time meant that I wouldn’t have to get up at sunrise the next morning as originally planned. This plan had some merit. So, off we went, and as it turned out, the rim of the canyon was only a half mile or so from the camp.

The view was instantly revitalizing. Breathtaking. Bryce Canyon was one of the destinations I had most looked forward to on this trip. I had always admired those incredible spires (which I learned were actually called hoodoos….yeah, you can say it. I know you’re thinking it. Hoodoo that voodoo?) and thought that Bryce just seemed to have this indisputable energy.

I was 100% correct. Instant awe.

Of all of the places we visited, Bryce has definitely landed itself in my top three short list. Once the sun finally set low enough that it no longer illuminated the hoodoos, we headed for the campground and for the blissful oblivion known as sleep.

But guess what? We’re at an altitude not much different from our campground in Maroon Bells. And we’re still up several times a night to visit the bathroom. No one tells you about this part of traveling high altitudes. Drink, yes. Stay hydrated, yes. Pee a lot, funny, I read not a word about it. I suppose it should go without saying that one thing leads to another, but really…perhaps I just thought I’d sweat it off. I digress.

Despite the fact that we’d visited the canyon the night before, we greeted Day 6 at 5:30 and were at the rim of Bryce Canyon by 6 am for a stunning sunrise. Far more photographic than sunset the night before and I was grateful that sleeping in a tent was so revitalizing despite our wacky schedule.

After the sunrise, Nate turned to me with a question. “Hike?”

Well, heck, yeah! He didn’t have to ask me twice!

Off we went, into the canyon, amongst the hoodoos. We hiked for two hours, beating the heat of the day with the timing and enjoying some of the most indescribable scenery. Amazing in every way.

It should be illegal for someplace so striking to be located somewhere so desolate. Utah, of all places. But, I suppose that’s the biggest part of what makes it so amazing. If it were in Phillipsburg, NJ, I’m willing to bet the charm somehow just wouldn’t be there.

Just as the temps neared the 90s, we reached the top of the rim, took one last glance behind, and returned to camp to embark on the rest of Day 6, blissfully unaware that we were about to discover the true Utah desert in a way we hadn’t anticipated and couldn’t have imagined. Soon enough.

Onward and Upward. Very, Very Upward.

July 11, 2021 / L. Ryan Storms / Leave a comment

Original Post: July 24, 2015

We’re up at 5:30 and on the road by 6, but not without first appreciating the views that early morning Kansas plains have to offer. Deer in the tall grasses, pheasants calling unseen, and the golden sun rising over the horizon.

We decide to stop for gas early in the trip, since we’re low and we want to make sure we get a full day of driving as long as we can. What’s this? Oh, gas at the next exit. So, off we go, but there’s no gas station in sight. Instead, we drive two miles down the road to a “town” that wasn’t yet awake. Though the sign in the window proclaims it to be open, it’s quite obvious the gas station is not. And given the other sign they’ve posted, I think I’ll pass on the hospitality offered in this town anyway…

No need for me to guess, I’ve no need to be here, thanks!

We eventually do fill the gas tank and I am especially glad to be on the road to Colorado. At the very least, it has to be cooler, right? It was a long drive, longer than we expected, coupled with an extra 1-hour delay in Denver. Denver…what’s that smell? As we sit in traffic, waiting to get back on our way, we realize that we’re smelling…wait…could that be what we think it is? Yes, pot. Hey man, a mellow traffic jam is the best kind, I suppose. At least the road rage will be kept to a minimum.

When I planned this particular leg of the journey, I noticed that the roads we’d chosen happened to be marked with “Closed in Winter” warnings on the maps. But, hey, we were journeying in the very middle of summer. Surely the roads would be fine. No, it’s true that we didn’t encounter any snow or ice on the road. But, we did encounter roads only 1 1/2 lanes wide with more hairpins than any elegant bridal up-do.

Remember back on Day 2 when I said I wasn’t afraid of heights? At this particular point in my life, I seriously began to reconsider. At one time in the drive, Nate pulled off to one side (where there actually was a small side…) and pointed my camera straight down the ravine below. The result was this:

And it doesn’t nearly do it justice. I won’t lie. During the time we were pulled over, my heart actually might have tried to leap out of my chest. (Probably just trying to cling to the road in case the rest of me went tumbling below with the car and all of our belongings.) I am not afraid of heights, but I’ll fully admit to having a healthy fear of landslides and could only too clearly picture our car slipping off the shoulder and into the empty space below.

You can image my relief, then, when Nate pulled the car back on the road and we resumed our drive. When we finally reached the summit at 11,318 feet we had to pull over one more time. Why? To do this, naturally:

Who doesn’t want to throw a snowball in June? By the time we are on our way down the other side, we’re happy for an excuse to stop at a rest stop and trailhead not only to use the rest rooms, but also to check out the ice cold stream flowing with impressive turbulence just off the trail. Naturally Nate can’t resist and he throws in a line. He catches two cutthroat trout, but both make it off the line before he can reel them in. A disappointment, but then, he hadn’t really expected to catch anything at all at a rest stop.

As we walk back to the car, the one thing that strikes me as odd is a slight dizzy feeling that I can’t seem to shake. Before we’d left, a coworker had asked me if I had ever suffered from altitude sickness and up until that point, it hadn’t even been something I’d thought about. I laughed it off, thinking it sounded ridiculous. “I’m not even leaving the country!” I’d thought. But, after she’d brought it up, of course, I did a little research on it to familiarize myself with the symptoms…you know…just in case (Hint: Read – “to add to my repertoire of things about which to worry”). Now, as I fought a funny lightheadedness, I realized it might actual be a real threat after all!

Thankfully, dizziness was the only symptom I experienced in the Rockies. We camped at the Silver Queen Campground in the White River National Forest near the Maroon Bells Recreation Area. The campsite, our first true tenting experience on this trip, was perfect. Gorgeous tall aspens and reed-like grasses made the campground. The only downside – bear boxes! Yikes, that meant we were really in bear country now (black bears, anyway). I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I told you that I made sure every last smelly, aromatic, scented item in our car or on our person ended up in that box. According to the brochures, bears find the scent of soap, deodorant, detergent, and many other odd things attractive. They’ll come around to investigate dish soap just as quickly as they will for a cooked ham. (Well, I didn’t actually test that one. It’s entirely possible they’ll move a little faster for a juicy ham, but I took the brochure’s word for it and stashed everything smelly into that big metal box, regardless!)

After setting up camp, we debated just calling it a night, but we were both too excited to actually relax. So…off to Maroon Lake for some stunning views of the Maroon Bells and the amazingly clear waters of the lake. Nate threw on a pair of waders and was in the lake without even having to be asked if that’s what he wanted to do. He caught (and actually reeled in) his first cutthroat trout. Though the fish here are small, they are native to the area and brilliant in color…which kind of makes sense because just about everything is brilliant in color. It’s an amazing view and breathtaking (literally – remember the altitude involved).

When we finally get back to our campsite and climb into our sleeping bags, we’re surprised to learn that at 9:30 pm, it’s still as bright as 5 pm back home. How is this possible? It seemed to take forever to finally get dark. We’re up early (and several times during the night to use the bathroom – high altitudes = peeing a lot) and at 5 am we decide on one more trip to the lake to see the sunrise before we go.

Amazing what a difference just 12 hours can make. On the left, Maroon Lake and the reflection of the Bells at sunset. On the right, sunrise sets the Maroon Bells on fire.

Getting up early sure does have its benefits. Not only are we treated to an amazing sunrise on the peaks above, but we’ve also gotten to see our first elk, mule deer, marmots, and grouse. I’d call that a successful Rocky Mountain trip.

Next destination? Funny you should ask. We actually have two in mind for Day 5 – Arches National Park and Bryce Canyon. It promises to be another long day, but I guess they all are when you get up at 5 am. I just looked forward to finding a lower altitude where I didn’t have to pee so often.

Here We Go…To Kansas

July 11, 2021 / L. Ryan Storms / Leave a comment

Original Post: July 21, 2015

In the beginning of the trip, I would take a photo of our next destination from wherever we were when we started that day. This habit didn’t last long…

It should come as no surprise to anyone that Kansas was not on my hotspot list. I mean, other than Dorothy, who have you ever known to actually WANT to go to Kansas? (I think even Toto would have opted out if he’d been given the chance, but dammit…Dorothy just had to ask “Toto, too?” Poor dog. He not only came from Kansas, but he had to go back!)

Shortly, before we left for vacation, I had taken a quiz on one of those ridiculous internet sites to see which state I should live in, as if answering 15 questions online could actually be a legitimate determining factor in where I’ll hang my hat. And the result – you guessed it – was Kansas. How on earth I could answer that I loved the ocean and still get a state smack-dab in the middle of the country as a result was beyond me. The last thing I’d want to do is end up in any part of “Tornado Alley.”

I believe my exact words just a few days before we left were, “If I thought I could actually make it from St. Louis to Aspen in a single drive without going insane, I would definitely try. But since we need to sleep at some point, Kansas it is.”

The drive through eastern Kansas provided endless views of slow rolling hills that eventually flattened into plains that went on for miles. By the time we reached western Kansas, we’d seen more corn and more oil pumps than I had realized could exist in one state. Our only saving grace? The time of year we chose to travel. Had we booked our trip just a few months later, those miles of landscape (though long and unchanging) would not have been visible at all. Instead, higher and heartier corn would have meant stunning views of – wait for it – corn. For 9 hours. Corn and sky. Thank goodness for June.

I was a bit hesitant when we stopped at a rest area and found a piece of molted snake skin. I guess I hadn’t really thought I’d see any snakes. Did I know they were out there? Sure, the same as I knew rattlesnakes inhabited Hawk Mountain in our part of Pennsylvania, but since I don’t encounter evidence of their existence 99% of the time, I can keep them filed away in the “imaginary monster” files of my mind. Suddenly, they had become much more real.

This surely came from the belly of a fairly good-sized snake. Glad I didn’t get a chance to meet him.

When we finally arrived at Cedar Bluff State Park, I was impressed. I had not expected to be at all intrigued with this strange land in the middle of the country, but there was actually a serene beauty in that tall grass which swayed like waves in the wind. And wind there was. With no mountains or tree lines to block it, the wind was constant. I would be the last person to complain, however, since it meant we had some relief from the 102 degree heatwave.

We checked into our cabin, aptly named The Jumpin’ Catfish. (Yes, I’d had Nate in mind when I booked that one.) It was adorable. From top to bottom, it was cute as can be – and covered with walking stick bugs (on the outside…not in – thank goodness!). Funny how some bugs can creep you out completely and others are, for lack of a better word, cute. Walking sticks definitely fall into the latter category. So, if you happen to stop in Kansas and need a place to stay, Cedar Bluff State Park is it. A great camp!

Nate fished the reservoir (of course) and we both enjoyed spending the evening on the porch of our cabin, watching the sun set and the lightning bugs buzz through the grass. Perhaps the most memorable part of Kansas was the incredible birdsong. I have never heard birds sing like the ones we heard there and it just added to the serenity that was the prairie. If I didn’t know that tornadoes frequent the state every year, I could have contemplated buying a little cabin of our own in the area. Birdsong aside, I think I’ll pass.

We spent the evening experimenting with our cameras and scopes, practicing for the nights we knew we wanted to get some great dark sky shots, and despite the lack of geographical contrast to use against the sky, we got some pretty decent photos.

We headed to bed fairly early, knowing that we’d be up early and on the road to the “real” vacation tomorrow. (Are you sensing a pattern, yet?) Aspen, Colorado and Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness. Finally, a change in landscape!

And we survived Kansas. Nary a tornado in sight.

Let the Real Vacation Begin

July 11, 2021 / L. Ryan Storms / 1 Comment

Original Post: July 19, 2015

It wasn’t as though we weren’t already on vacation, but somehow it just didn’t feel like it when we were visiting someplace we’d seen before.

Day two was the start of the real excitement for me, and the beginning of the “real” vacation. I couldn’t wait to see the miles we’d cover and all of the things we’d see.

As it turned out, the things we would see were generally limited to this:

And this:

And this:

Okay, so we basically passed farm after farm. The pastoral land was beautiful (though nothing new to those of us who live in Pennsylvania), but the overcast skies were a bit of a downer.

When we finally neared St. Louis, my excitement began to rise despite the clouds that threatened to suffocate us. The famed Arch is The Gateway to the West and though it’s a manmade landmark, the sight of it rising above the mighty Mississippi River was highly anticipated.

The Jefferson National Expansion Monument (as the pamphlets proclaim this to actually be) has a history far longer than I want to delve into. (Or than you actually want to read, I’m sure. If you really wanted to read about it, you’d be Googling that right now and not reading a travel blog…) According to the pamphlet, “The Gateway Arch is a memorial site where you can contemplate the epic mass-migration and settlement of the American West during the 1800s. Thomas Jefferson estimated that it might take 1,000 generations for Americans to fully extend across the vast continent. Instead, in fewer than 90 years what Americans called the frontier had ended.”

Oddly enough, it wasn’t here that I really contemplated the westward movement of settlers through the country, which is sort of ironic since it’s the entire reason the monument exists. For me, that speculation would come later.

After we arrived at the hotel (with a fabulous view of the Arch right from our room), we went straight to the Arch to arrange a ride to the top on the tram. “Are you claustrophobic?” the ticket agent asked us. “Do you have a fear of heights?” she said. Hmmm. I wasn’t either of these, but it’s amazing how quickly you reconsider things when asked questions like these.

The next open tram ride was scheduled for 6:25 pm and it was only 3. Wait, what? 3? Oh! We passed through a time zone and didn’t even know it. Sweet way to gain an hour in the day. And what did we do with it? Napped. Yep.

When we finally did head to the Arch for our tram ride, we quickly discovered that we could have stayed in the hotel an extra hour. One of the two trams was closed and the line for the other was looped through the lobby multiple times. We sorely regretted not having stopped for dinner first.

We finally made it to the waiting area for the tram and watched as a couple of teenage girls balked last minute as soon as they saw what they’d be riding in. What did it look like? Like this:

This tiny little pod seated 5 people for a 4-minute ride up 630 ft to the top of the arch. The views, despite the flooded Mississippi River, were spectacular.

It was a bit cozy to say the least. A 4-minute ride 630 ft to the top and then we were able to appreciate 360 degrees of spectacular views. If you ever have the chance to do it (and you’re not claustrophobic or afraid of heights), take the ride! It’s worth it.

This guy looks awfully relaxed. Oh, that’s right. German chocolate cake martini.

Off to a fabulous dinner at Carmine’s Steakhouse with my dinner date, who got himself pretty loopy on a German chocolate cake martini while waiting for dinner to be served.

Excellent food, excellent company, and then we were on our way back to the Arch for some evening photos. I’m glad we ventured out again, tired though we were, because that’s when we got the most spectacular shots.

I know, I know. How many photos can one person take of a big metal manmade structure? If I count all of the ones I deleted, I think probably 284, but no one’s really counting. It seemed that every time I was finished taking photos and we were ready to retire for the night, I’d look back and see another angle or different lighting that made me want to try all over again.

It was a great “real” first evening of our vacation and I went to bed that night looking forward to traveling into new territory, places I’d never seen and would soon have the chance to photograph! Bring on Day 3!

19 States in 22 Days

July 11, 2021July 11, 2021 / L. Ryan Storms / 1 Comment

Original Post: July 17, 2015

The original plan was 22 states in 22 days, but who’s counting?

I have wanted to travel cross-country for almost as long as I can remember. I began formulating an actual “road plan” when I was 18 and had I done it the summer I turned 19 as I’d originally planned, gas would have been a mere $0.88 a gallon instead of the $2.70 – $4.20 a gallon it was this summer. But hindsight is always 20/20. On the upside, digital photography didn’t exist back then which means — I would have spent more money on film in 1998 than I spent on fuel a few weeks ago. I guess it all has a way of evening out.

Part of the reason for my longing to embark on this crazy road trip had to do with my love of photography. I love just about all photography, but there’s a special place in my heart for landscape photography. Though there is an art to nature that cannot possibly be experienced aside from being immersed directly within it, good landscape photography is a close second. Where else can you experience the immensity of the El Capitan or appreciate the subtly changing light as the sun rises over the hoodoos of Bryce Canyon?

Not a day goes by where I don’t view a scene on my way to or from work and frame it out exactly as I’d shoot it in the camera of my mind. Rarely do I have an actual camera in hand. So to plan a trip that was entirely based on my desire to photograph the country was akin to planning a trip to heaven.

“Are you insane?” I heard numerous times from different friends and family members. “Do you know how many hours you’ll be sitting in a car…just…driving??”

Yes, in fact. I did. 135 according to my Excel spreadsheet. (Yes, Excel. You didn’t think you could plan a trip like this in three weeks time without a little bit of planning, did you?)

Generally speaking, people had one of two reactions when I showed them my spreadsheet. I either got a breathless “Wow! I’m so impressed,” or the dubious eyebrow raise with a “Better you than me.”

I realize it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. In fact, even my husband doubted the wisdom of so much driving in so little time. When would we have time to do anything or see anything? Would we hate each other after so many hours with no other company? I was convinced we’d either end up spiritually bonded on a new level…or divorced. Only time would tell. “Plus,” I’d told him, “the entire schedule is able to be changed at any time. It’s OUR time and we can do whatever we want with it! If we decide to scrap a campground and lose $20, it’s not the end of the world.” Little did I know how soon I’d have to eat my words.

So when the big day was just about here, I was more than a little crushed when the remnants of a hurricane were moving through Texas and into the midwest, scheduled to hit Lexington, Kentucky, just as we were supposed to be setting up our first campsite. This was NOT the way things were supposed to go. I wasn’t supposed to have to change plans on the very first night! When I drew up the schedule, I figured we’d probably end up sleeping in our car at least one night. I just never bet on it being the very first one.

“We can’t very well set up a tent in an already flooded campground,” I told Nate the day before we were to leave. I sighed and resigned myself to the fact that whether I liked it or not, my very outlook on the trip was being challenged by forces greater than I.

At 10 pm the night before we would leave, we scrapped Kentucky and made plans to head to Ohio, staying well north of the majority of the storm, and visiting Nate’s family on our way westward. Despite the visit, I wanted to pout. It didn’t feel like day one of a monumental vacation. It felt like we were going where we’d already gone a dozen times before. For this day at least, I felt like a nine year old who wanted nothing more than to sulk at the fact that’d I’be been served pistachio ice cream when I’d ordered mint chocolate chip. Still green? Yes. But not the same.

But, like all things, this too shall pass. And it did. I could live with the fact that we wouldn’t be visiting Maryland (been there), West Virginia (seen it), or Kentucky (haven’t seen it, but I’ve done Tennessee and isn’t that close enough?). By day two, we were ready to catch up and get back on schedule. But that’s a post for another day!

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