Chapter 1. The West

I planned (this word is a misnomer since my planning consisted solely of
buying an airline ticket, a travel book & renting a car online) a trip
out west to clear my mind and create a relaxing transition from
one chapter of my life into the next. To mourn losses, to gain
confidence, to experience nature, and to have fun! This story is not only
about the places I've been to in the past month's time but also about the
extraordinary people I had the pleasure to get to know.

My mother was to travel with me at the onset, the first weekend of
my soul searching venture being Mother's Day weekend. After all she was
the person who created this bouncing ball of joy, she deserves some credit, so
I took her to Zion National Park, Utah. I'm proud of her
too--she kept up with me on a hike up to Hidden Canyon
where you had to hold onto chains bolted into the rocks and scramble along
a cliff face over a bit of a drop off and walk along narrow steep
paths & steps carved out of the boulders. Yes, she made it back safely and no I didn't pick that hike in order to do her in. I just wanted to witness the narrow canyons for which Zion is famous, and for that you must make an effort. She opted out on my next crazy notion
however, and sat by a stream while I gave it a shot. The park rangers had suggested that it was the wrong season to hike "The Narrows." There was too much snow melt, the
water was chest high in places, and I would have to wear a dry suit
or at least a wetsuit to hike this particular trail. Well I was
crushed, cause of course this trail is where 99% of the cool photos in the
visitor center were taken. Then I found out from a waiter that
lived and worked in the park that the first mile of the trail was paved
sidewalk and only after that ended did you require getting in the
water (& there was a stand with walking sticks at that point if I
wanted to continue...) So I did. Walking stick in hand, over
slippery rounded river rocks and icy rushing water, I was off! The water
eventually came up to my knees and I couldn't feel my toes after 10
seconds, so I hiked a bit further and took a few photos to prove I had done it,
then I couldn't feel my calves and walking became difficult, so I probably hiked
1/100 of a mile instead of 12 on that water logged trail, but if I
hadn't at least tried I would have regretted it. My mom also
wanted to ride horses and we were lucky enough to get a
really intriging character for our guide. His name was
"Ten Bear" all gruff, scruff and cowboy hat, he was not a Native
American. He told us (with some proding) that he had received the name
honorarily from the Paiute Indians for having saved one of their own's
life (whom also happened to be his best friend) during the
Vietnam War. He wouldn't or couldn't tell us in what capacity he
had served in the war but he had given us a hint by saying that once
John F. Kennedy had dissolved the Special Services, military
already in place at the time filled those positions, which meant him. He
was now enjoying the rest and peace that came from getting to ride horses
through a land that he loved. I was happy for him. We talked
politics, native american legends, and about life in general and at
the end of our ride (which flew by quickly) instead of giving him a $5
tip like my mom did, I gave him a hug, cause he looked like he could use
one and because he'd had a hell of a life.

I drove my mom to the airport and I was on my own for 2.5 weeks
until my sweet girl Amy Dee could fly out for the remainder of the
trip. I'm not gonna lie to ya, I did alot of singing, crying, and
driving in those weeks, but it needed to be done. I left a whole
gaggle of really incredible friends and a truly unforgettable place
behind to pursue other ventures. The morning that I left I crossed the
SGI bridge for the last time. The 5 mile bridge that I had taken to
work over my Aquatic Preserve for the past 8 years. My little
green truck's rear end practically draggin; like a small child digging there
feet into the sand when mom wants to leave the beach; from the kayaks,
bike, and dive equipment I had packed to resemble Sanford and Son's junk
truck. (This is where you sing the song.) At the very same moment
in time my truck was passing over them on the bridge, the ANERR Research
crew (my girlfriends) were driving the Seahawk (boat) on Apalachicola Bay
just below me. To say this was significant to me is an
understatement. It was as if a 10 gun salute had gone off while
military jets flew overhead just for me. I waved to them, got goose
bumps, my spine tingled, and I began to wail as if I was never again going
to see my family and friends ever again. It had finally hit me like a
category 5 hurricane that I was leaving. For the past year, since I had
signed up for the Peace Corps I had known this day would come and I still
wasn't prepared for the emotions that erupted forth. You have to
understand, there was no doubt in my mind what I had set out to do was right, I
had just built such strong ties to that community that I bled as I tore
away from it. Of all the places I have lived in my life, none of them
feel like home except for Apalach. I was glad that I could
travel and think, and think some more before I left for the Peace Corps. It
was a much needed transition period.

But I digress... Continuing to follow the yellow brick road I was on my
way to see Bryce Canyon National Park,
Utah. I hiked the Queens Garden trail
and the Navajo Loop, checked out Bryce
Point and Fairyland View
all of which were chock full of red and orange spires that resembed drip
sand castles made by playful giants. From Bryce I was
supposed to travel on to Grand Staircase-Escalante, Capitol Reef,
Canyonlands, & Arches
National Parks. It
would have been the easy thing to do since they were all within spittin
distance of eachother, however, I had had my fill of the canyon thing
already. I knew what I needed; green leaves, running rivers, my
beloved Pacific Ocean!so I took a left instead of a right when leaving Bryce Canyon.
The next call to my parents was a surprise to them, I was in California instead of Utah. I had to drive thru Las Vegas to get to my
destination--I saw the Golden Nugget and Ceasar's Palace from the highway and I
hope that's all I ever see of them again. I understand now why they
built Vegas because Nevada
has nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing else to offer!

Now some of you have aleady heard this tale but I'll tell it
again. I was in Death Valley
National Park, I know,
not the kind of place you find running rivers but it was on the way to them so
I checked it out. I had stopped at the visitor center and the
rangers kept warning about heat exhaustion, drinking alot of fluids, blah,
blah, blah, (obviously they had never dug turtle nests in the blazing
sun and humidity of a still August day on Cape St. George, right
girls!) It felt like a spring day in Apalach and I was in the desert, you
know what they say, its a dry heat... Anyways, nowhere in this
conversation with Mr. Ranger Rick did the topic of dust storms come
up. So I found a lovely site for my nearly new Kelty three season
tent, placed the stakes as far into the hardpan as I could, and set off to
explore the valley. Nearing dusk and watching the sunset over the mountains I
had noticed what looked like smoke in the distance, a few minutes later it had
moved closer to my current location. Well, the sun had gone down and
I began to drive back when I saw another dirt devil coming my
way, (they look like tornadoes or waterspouts but they are made up of
dirt/sand) I had been seeing them all along the highway
in the desert but this one looked much more organized and larger than
the others. I stopped the car in the middle of the road not
wanting to test its strength as it crossed my path. The wind had
picked up along my 15 mile journey back to camp and things kept flying
into the car. As it turned out that smoke cloud I saw from a
distance was a dust storm that was powerful enough to knock all the
electricity out in the valley. I returned to a unusually dark campground,
40 knot winds, pelting sand, and no tent in sight or at the site! I was
in disbelief that my tent was gone I had a brief moment of panic visualizing
it being carried off by the winds rolling and bouncing like a
tumbleweed, somewhere in Texas (maybe I could blame Bush for this too) shirley,
by now...just then the heroins of this tale appeared with jackets
sheilding their eyes and mouths from the sand's exfoliation
treatment and walking at a 30 degree angle into the wind! They
exclaimed that they had caught my tent in mid air and had placed 3 boulders in
it in the bushes to keep it there! I gave them both big dusty hugs
and hurried with them to find my tent leaning at a 60 degree angle and
making such loud flapping noises it sounded like a flock of Canadian Geese
flying overhead! After realizing that I was not going to
sleep in the tent that nite, they graciously assisted me in balling it up
and throwing it into my car. Well I wimped out and instead of
spending a long sleepless night in the car I drove a mile down the road to
the generator driven hotel. Since the power had gone out they gave
me a great deal on a "Deluxe" room and for $107 (with AAA) I got 2
glowsticks & no airconditioning. But I will tell you that was
the best shower of my life! I had sand stuck in every nook and
cranny! After I had rented the room I went back to the
lovely old couple from England that saved my tent and were trying to sleep
in their car and asked if they would like to join me in my room since I had an
extra bed and I would like to somehow repay them for saving my tent.
I'm sure they must have thought I was just another one of those strange
Americans. The old man and his middle age son said it was very
nice of me to come back and ask and all, so I said well how
about this poor woman in the back seat surely she would like to leave
the guys to fend for themselves and join me in a comfortable room--the old
man exclaimed with a smile "she's our cook, she can't
go!" and I said "well I need a cook too!" just to
prove I was
another strange American. Anyways, I can't even get an old couple to go to bed
with me, how sad is that?! The tent poles for the remainder of the
trip resembled my spine getting out of the tent every morning, bent to
hell. But they still worked enough to set up the tent another
20 times, Hallejuah Bruddah!! (Those were pretty strong tent poles
too--I tried to bend them straight myself several times, I guess I just
needed another 40 knot wind to blow them back into shape!) Obviously,
I had had my fill of Death Valley--I agreed
with them for naming it that and left the next day.

On my drive to Sequoia
National Park I
passed a miriad of scenes--windy roads thru towering Sequoias, Oak
laden rolling hills of golden wheat and family farms, and row upon row
of orange trees and vineyards. I bought the sweetest black
cherries at a road side stand you've ever had the pleasure of rolling on your
tongue! I wanted to swallow the pits so as not to waste any of that
luscious juice! Sequoia was my 2nd favorite park on
this trip coming in just behind Yellowstone.
I hiked Congress Trail, Moro Rock & Tharp's log (where this man had
built a house out of a fallen Sequoia by a peaceful meadow, I liked it so much
I took a nap in the sunshine on a logbench, it was so peaceful). As I
was walking along a paved path around Crescent Meadow I kept noticing
what I thought was bear scat (poop) along the trail, it was showing up so often
though that I had convinced myself it couldn't possibly be bear scat cause
there was just too much of it--just as that thought was crossing my
mind I looked up to see a black bear happily munching away on grass
in the meadow about 300 feet from me! I sat down on the bench and watched
him for quite awhile until a German couple came a little too close to
him for a photo op and scared him off. It was then I noticed a
second bear on the other side of the meadow and another peaking his
head out from a fallen log! We were surrounded by bears--I guess
that's why I saw so much poop! The meadows were so picturesque, lush
green, with small streams running thru them, surrounded by majestic
Sequoia's standing guard. 2,000 years old and still growing! They
are just amazing! They are the largest living things on earth; bigger
than a blue whale! These trees, when you place your hand on their bark,
you can just feel their mana (hawaiian for power, spirit) and it energizes
you. I hugged quite a few, they didn't seem to mind.

I headed to King's Canyon
National Park. I
had an hour before sunset one evening to sit and write in my journal on
John Muir's rock. He used to stand on this rock and make impassioned
speeches about preserving lands for conservation (we need to get a rock for Roy!) I bought a
book about him because I was so impressed by how many different parks I
went to where his work had made a difference and how he helped to
preserve these spectacular lands for generations like myself to
enjoy. Several factions had fought over this land for electricity
production, lumbering, grazing, and Disney wanted to build a ski
resort--sitting on that large boulder looking out over a crystalline
river, I was glad that they hadn't. I had seen a sign stapled
to the bathroom door at camp that read "Don't Hike Solo-Mountain
Lion Terrain." Well, I didn't have anyone with me and with no hope
of finding a man that
quickly, I would have no other choice than to break the rules again! So
here I was hiking solo thru what looked like terrain a mountain
lion would love--boulders the size of Belize, forest edge, high
cliffs above, and plenty of water to be had, when I noticed what had to be
lion scat on the trail. I suddenly felt like I was being watched. I
made it around the 5 mile loop without being used as catnip and it
was one of the prettiest hikes I did on the whole trip, so I'm glad I did
it! But a week later while in Santa
Cruz the charming Hawaiian girl who
was managing the Hostel desk told me about how a woman was just
recently attacked by a mountain lion in one of the parks and how the cat
had actually been found to have stalked her along a trail. At that,
I was glad that I had Amy Dee to accompany me soon... I was
happy to have Amy joining me because I had also noticed that 99% of the people
that visit the parks do so in pairs, so it was nice to have the prospect
of someone to share these incredible experiences and sights with. Being
alone also had its perks though, I met a lot of people from all over the world
(cause you're more apt to speak to strangers if you don't have a friend there
to chat with) Austria, Germany, England, Canada, Taiwan, Pennsylvania,
etc. They were all so kind. There were a few days when I'd
have extra ice and try to find someone to give it to so as not to waste--I
offered it to one couple who seemed to be washing their van next to my car.
They just kept thanking me; they were so thrilled to get a free third of a bag
of ice?! I went back into the store to get something I had forgot and
when I came back out to the car, the man was washing my windshield with windex
and a paper towel! Just goes to show you practicing random
acts of kindness does have its rewards!

So I should have made reservations for Yosemite National Park,
but I had been doing so good flying by the seat of my pants thus far, I really
didn't expect everything to be booked, and I mean everything! No tent
sites, backcountry sites, tent cabins, hotels, lodges, log
cabins, nothin. I hadn't planned to come in on a Saturday, hell, I
don't even know if I knew what day it was! So I pulled up into Yosemite's Wawona Lodge in hopes of finding a
room for the night (at that point I thought that only
the campgrounds were full, not the hotels). It looked like the lodge
in "Dirty Dancing" except with girls in neat little white
tennis skirts and men driving around in golf carts with little polo
ponies on their pressed collared shirts. I looked down at my blackened
chaco-striped dirty feet and tried to remember the last time I
had taken a shower. I couldn't remember, so I said "what the hell"
and walked into this "much too historically beautiful classy place for
me" and asked the smiling kind-faced young man behind the
counter if he had any rooms for the night? They didn't, but he
continued to help me by calling throughout the park to find a
vacancy. After several calls with no luck he asked me if I'd like to stay
on his couch, that his 3 roommates wouldn't mind, if I didn't mind them; that
is if I was the trusting sort. Now as I had driven away from the
Ranger station after being told there were no camp sites available I told
myself don't panic, God will provide. Now I'm not religious mind you, but
I was thinking of the girl I had met on Moro Rock in Sequoia (she
was traveling with a singing group called Jews for Jesus) and the story she
had told me about her running out of camera batteries and how she didn't
think she had more until she remembered this one story in the bible, God was
trying to tell her something & she looked in her knapsack and there
were more batteries--a miracle to her at the time (she told me the bible
story so enthusiastically I thought she was gonna fall off
the mountain!) Let's just say she had a lot more
breath left after that climb than I did! Anyways, I figured somehow
I'd be saved like she was, so after making another unsuccessful phone call to
a hotel down the mountain, I took him up on his offer. Now I
wouldn't normally do this type of thing but I figured this must be the answer
to my prayers and I better not mess with destiny! Besides, he seemed
like he had an honest, sweet face and I was really hoping I could use his
shower!!! I had a wonderful evening listening to guitar, watching
saturday night live, and talking to his friends and roommates about
traveling and fishing and chef knives? Their cabin by the
river was toasty warm, the couch comfortable, and I slept well that night
thanks to Chris! (There was a different Chris from San Diego that helped Amy
and I batten down our tarp one night in Grand Tetons. The sky got
black and the sound of the wind coming down thru the mountain valleys made
it sound like we were camped by a huge waterfall. It started
to sprinkle and that cool wind was whipping and he lent us his tent stakes
and helped us drive them in in a hurry. Our tarp still beat the tent
to death but we stayed dry and were glad that we had shared our
smore's with him earlier that evening!) Yosemite Valley was like Disneyworld! I stopped at all the appropriate sites
to take pictures, but it was a carnival instead of a wilderness
experience! I fled up to the rim as soon as I
could. It really made me appreciate how good I had had it with
the crowds so far on my journey and that I would definately never want to be in
these parks in their summer peak seasons! If it was
already like this here in mid May. I hiked up to Lembert Dome
and had the whole rock to myself, everyone else was down in the
valley. The trail became a stream at some points due to the snowmelt
and I hiked thru snow to reach the top of the Dome.

Drove like the wind the next morning to get to Bir Sur and luckily fell short
at a place called Marina Dunes. I had made it there around 9:30
pm in the only RV/camp ground around off the highway, so I pitched my
tent in the dark not knowing what surrounded me. I had woke up unusually
early for me--6:00am and couldn't go back to sleep for some reason. So I
packed up and followed a trail thru dunes that were 200 feet tall and
1/2 mile long to get to the Pacific Ocean
as the sun rose. There were crazy flowers blooming on the dune
vegetation, all plants I had never seen before--completely different
from East Coast dunes. When I finally got to see the Pacific Ocean for the first time on this trip I felt
relieved. Then I was shocked to see what was basically a smorgesborg
happening before my eyes! First the sight of shorebirds flying
eradically, then the school of bait fish hitting the surface of
the water frantically trying to find somewhere to hide, than this gigantic
mouth came from below and almost swallowed the whole picture before
me! It was a grey whale! A pod of about 30
Common Dolphins, white sided and about half the size of Bottlenose
Dolphins, jump, jump, jumped their way into the feeding frenzy. They
seemed to have so much more energy than our Florida dolphins, jumping out of the
water so frequently it was as if they were spending more time in the
air than in the water. About 10-15 whales appeared either feeding or
swimming along with young within a 1/2 mile from the shore! I sat there
for the next hour watching these waters brim with life
and knew why I had woke up so early, because by 8:00am they were full
and they all went on their way. What a great way to start the day!
I made my way to Monterey
Bay from there to go
kayaking. I walked down cannery row to a kayak rental shop and when
I got there I happened to run into an old schoolmate from
college. Becky lived in San Fran and had just come down
with her cousin for vacation. I asked if she'd like to paddle with me
cause I would enjoy the company and we were off on a tandom talking about the
old days before we knew it! We saw sweet-faced sea otters twirling,
washing, & wiping their faces, shy & quiet harbor seals, and boisterous
brash barking sea lions clustered on rafts, rocks, and buoys! Paddling
above and looking into the clear water of the kelp forests was
definately a stark change from the oyster beds I had become so
accustomed to over the years. I hadn't got my fill of sealife for
the day so I walked to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, cause I had heard to much about
it. They were right, it was one of the best I've seen! Course,
they have an observation deck where you can look out onto the kelp beds and
with their spotting scopes look for sea otters and the like. Well, with
my St. Joe Bay luck
I saw a very dead sea lion floating. I alerted Aquarium staff and
she didn't know what to do and didn't really want to do anything until I
pressed the issue. She then called "downstairs" and got a
number for strandings. She then proceeded to hand me the phone and
the number and told me to call and report it! I looked at
her for a moment curiously and thought to myself, I have come across the
whole country to a completely different ocean and I still can't get away from
my job! So I called and reported the stranding. But after
seeing several more seals and sea lions floating dead along the state parks of
Big Sur, I began to know how tourists feel when they come
to Florida
and see things like that and wonder if anybody's doing anything about
it? And why are these critters dying in such numbers? I really
had a lot of questions that no one could answer. To top of my day a
sealife viewing I went and ate sushi on Cannery Row. Sat next to a really
nice guy named Robert who was born in Brazil, was working for the
military, in what capacity he wouldn't tell me, (all these secret missions
going on?) and had some fascinating stories from places he had been to all
over the world (he had been to just about everywhere). He suggested
I go to the Giradelli chocolate shop down the street and get a
chocolate shake for dessert. Boy was he right! I went back to
my bed at the Hostel fat and happy!
Driving
along Hwy 1 was breathtaking, they don't call it Big
Sur for nothing! I camped at Pfeiffer-Big Sur state park but
I stopped at Andrew Molera, Point Lobos, and Pfeiffer Beach
state parks and went hiking thru the Redwoods and sightseeing. Drove to Santa Cruz from there and
the waves were going off! Steamer's Lane was overhead and barrelin there
were about 30-40 guys out on one break (most wearing booties and hoods and 5 mm
wetsuits.) They caught some amazing rides but it looked so cold I
didn't even want to stick my toe in to test it! I fell asleep on
the pebble-strewn beach in the warm sun instead. Next stop
Point Reyes National Seashore. This was the place where if a big
earthquake had hit California
while I was there the whole landmass could have essentially floated out to see,
the fault line is the boundary of the park! I stayed at another nice
Hostel and met several Native American women who just
so happened to be staying there for a native craft workshop. So as I
was peering over my book in the common area one night I got curious
and asked them what they were making. Turns out they were
weaving water tight baskets out of marsh reeds and it was an incredibly intricate
process! I'll never make fun of basket weaving class
again! The younger woman of about 40 was learning the
craft from the 70 year old woman who looked so wise and worn I thought she
must know everything about her traditions, and how wonderful for her to pass it
on! It was so educational for me to hear this Native American
teacher instruct her pupil of the hundred year old traditions of her
family. I didn't get much reading done that night, but I learned alot
anyways. The next day I was hiking along a trail that told of
the Indian tribe that once inhabited this area and bumped into the
ladies again! They were using hand-made drills that were created
from a wood dowel & wheel, thread, handle, and sharp point that when the
handle was pressed down the thread would wind around the dowel and cause the
wheel and sharp point to be driven down into the object. I was
captivated by this reproduction of a traditional tool, such a masterful
design and yet simple at the same time. The women were drilling
holes in small white clam shells, rounding off the edges and making beads,
stringing them with pieces of irridescent abalone shells. It was like
stepping back in time on that trail. They may have been wearing modern
clothes but their facial features were so proud and ancestral and their hair
black as midnight, I could almost picture how peaceful it used to be
before all of the buffalos were shot. They brought their
projects home that night and shared them with me, I think they were
excited that someone other than themselves appreciated what an
accomplished craft they were undertaking. I got to see elephant
seals sunning themselves on a beach in Point Reyes
the next day. The males were making loud honking sounds and fighting for
their harems by slamming their heads into eachother repeatedly. It
was like a spring break night at Harry A's! Every now and then the
females and babies would toss sand on their backs with their flippers, but
that was about all of the interest they showed in the males battling in the
water for their honor. From there I was finally going to pick up Amy
Dee--Yipee! Driving across Nevada was no
fun at all but once I was in Salt
Lake City I couldn't sleep. I was so excited
cause the next morning I was gonna have company!

Ok folks, so this is as far in the trilogies as I got before I had to leave for
the Peace Corps. So if you want to hear the rest of the story...implore
Amy Daniels my partner in crime to finish it for me in my absence. Otherwise
you may never hear about the dishing washing incident in what we thought was a
utility sink in Grand Tetons or about the camping in the snow in
Yellowstone...come on Amy Dee, please help me out on this one, you write better
than me anyways & I've run out of time!