Westbound: The Last Leg

The fifth and final week of my cross-country road trip consisted of several quick stops. I first headed north from Grand Canyon National Park and made the two and a half hour drive to Zion National Park in Utah. The weather was chilly when I arrived in the park and periods of intermittent rain became more and more frequent. The desert terrain consisted of mountains and cliffs of red rock and sand. Tunnels that had been blasted through the rock allowed the roadway to weave through the park, adding to the excitement of the drive. There seemed to be more vegetation in this area compared to some of the desert regions of Nevada and Arizona I had previously driven through. Many trees and shrubs sprung up in the valleys and along the mountainsides displaying much richer greens than the drier outskirts had on display. As I drove through the park I noticed many small creeks rolling down the rock faces, slowly carving paths into the landscape. I stopped along the roadside in between the sporadic fits of rain and admired my surroundings. While the park did not have the same wow factor I had become accustomed to after just leaving the Grand Canyon, it was noticeably more lush and had a certain beauty all its own.

road
Cliffsides in Zion National Park
tunnel
Tunnels in Zion NP
curve
Winding roads in Zion NP
creek
One of many creeks in Zion NP
selfie entrance
Entrance to Zion National Park

After leaving Zion National Park I continued north through Utah and made a few quick stops in Provo, Salt Lake City, and Ogden. The mountains directly butt up against these towns and the access to the outdoors is at your fingertips. I explored downtown Provo for a short time before stopping by the campus of Brigham Young University. As I continued to drive north towards Salt Lake City I made a stop at Canyon Bicycle Store in Draper and picked up a replacement wheel and saddle to repair the damage inflicted on my bike the week prior. Once I got into Salt Lake City I stopped at a Planet Fitness for a quick shower before making my way downtown. I walked around the shopping district for a while before crossing the street to Temple Square. Temple Square is a 35 acre compound in downtown Salt Lake City and is owned by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. There are several large ornate buildings and temples standing among well landscaped walkways lined with flowers. The church’s world headquarters are located here and the giant office building along with the temple are the only two buildings not open to the public. I examined the interior of the buildings without having too much difficulty fending off the friendly advancements of the many Mormons stationed throughout the property who offered a quick tour or just some pleasant conversation. Ogden was similar to the other towns and my visit encompassed an uneventful tour through downtown. Utah left me with the same dried out feeling I had living in Denver, Colorado but these towns had a smaller feel to them. Another noticeable difference is the pronounced presence and hold the Mormons have on the region. Listening to and watching people around town gave me the impression there is a distinct division between the Mormons and non-Mormons of the area.

exit
Leaving Zion National Park
temple
Salt Lake Temple
flowers2
Temple Square
church
Assembly Hall
flowers
Flower lined walkways

With Utah in my rearview mirror I drove through Wyoming, Nebraska, and Illinois on my way to Grosse Pointe, Michigan. I stopped a couple of times only to sleep because I had driven through these states before and knew there was nothing I cared to stop for in them. After a couple of days I made it to my Aunt and Uncle’s house in Grosse Point. Grosse Pointe is an oasis on the outskirts of Detroit. The city sits along Lake St. Clair and I would describe it as the Mayberry of Michigan. A very pronounced line separates Grosse Pointe from the surrounding city of Detroit. Crossing over this town line leads you down tree lined streets, past well landscaped yards, along the shoreline dotted with beautiful homes, and through quant pockets of shops and restaurants. Growing up I spent many summers here and the comfortable, familiar surroundings created a much needed reprieve from the long drive. My Aunt and Uncle were gracious as always, dropping what they were doing in their very busy lives to make time to spend with me. We crammed a lot in over the course of a couple days. From wonderful breakfasts, bike rides around town, Starbucks runs, eating lunch in downtown Detroit, to dinner at the Detroit Athletic Club; it was difficult to return to the road and continue my drive.

snow
Snow storm in Wyoming
bike ride
Biking in Grosse Pointe

I spent the next day and a half driving towards the White Mountains in New Hampshire. My wife and I rented a home there for six weeks while she completed her last clinical rotation for school. I arrived just in time to meet her for dinner at the Saalt Pub in Gorham, New Hampshire. We ordered the calamari, a Caesar salad, and a chicken dish of some kind and all of the food was absolutely spectacular. I spent the remainder of the weekend in the White Mountains before building up enough stamina to make the last hour and a half drive to my home in Portland, Maine. It felt good to finally make it home and a part of me longed for some down time to recuperate from the long journey, yet another part of me pulled and tugged wondering where I would head to next.

trip
Done!
light
Back home

 

It’s your life. Demand adventure.

– Jon

Westbound: Grand Canyon National Park, AZ

A month had come and gone since I had left Portland, Maine to travel out west. The last four weeks were a blur of overstimulation. The daily sensory overload was starting to take its toll and I began to think about how I would need a vacation after this vacation. I was glad to be taking this trip alone because I am convinced the pace I was moving at would have killed anyone accompanying me. This was not a relaxing trip, it was a mission to see everything worthwhile on the western half of the United States in the least amount of time possible. I would drive to a location and bike or hike to everything I deemed worth seeing before getting in the car to do it all over again. I had nothing other than the next destination planned, only figuring out where I would sleep when I became too exhausted to continue. There is a certain sensory overload you get when exploring a new place. Your senses are at their sharpest, taking in each little detail and working overtime to piece together every new thing you are seeing in order to create an overall picture of an area. Physically being somewhere is the only way to accurately piece together this puzzle and no amount of pictures can replace what the senses create in the moment. This sensory overload quickly diminishes over a day or two until you are not working nearly as hard to process what you are seeing and you begin to have a comfort and understanding of your surroundings. It is at this point, right before my brain could relax in a moment of familiarity, that I would hit the road for my next destination.

entrance
Grand Canyon National Park entrance

I left Las Vegas, Nevada behind and drove the four and a half hours to Grand Canyon National Park. As I entered the park I noticed it looked oddly unassuming. I had spent the last month travelling in and out of the mountains with constant fluctuations in elevation and I must have become accustomed to this. The flat pine forests appeared unremarkable and I found myself surprised by this. I drove along the south entrance road until reaching the visitor’s center. The visitor’s center was nestled along the Rim Trail, a long trail system bordering the canyon. I parked the car and made my way to an overlook at Mather Point. I was immediately taken back by the grandeur of it all. I guess I had not given much thought to the topography of the Grand Canyon before I arrived. The uninspiring drive into the park lowered my expectations and then I was shocked by the massive void in the earth I had found. It was as though I was staring at the exact opposite of a tall mountain range, both being equally impressive. The big difference between a mountain range and the Grand Canyon, aside from the obvious, is you see a mountain range coming from a long way away. You know it is coming and it slowly builds in size as you approach it. In contrast, the Grand Canyon is surrounded by nothing particularly spectacular and you are hit with the canyon’s brilliance all at once as you suddenly arrive at the earth’s edge. Without having given this much prior thought, it took me by surprise.

Mather Point
Mather Point

The red rock juts downward abruptly adding to the vertigo inducing view. Several miles stand between either side of the canyon, making any journey across a very long one. The canyon’s width is only dwarfed by its length as it snakes through the desert for hundreds of miles. Smaller peaks and valleys lie below and shoot up and down throughout the canyon until reaching the Colorado River at the base of it all.

Mather Point2
One of the many overlooks

Being time constrained, I forewent the multi-day hikes and rafting excursions and decided to hit the easy highlights. I headed west along the Rim Trail to Hopi Point. While all the vantage points I passed along the way were good, this one is a well-publicized favorite. After leaving Hopi Point I headed back east to Yaki Point and Grandview Point. Each stop was a unique, breathtaking view of different sections of the Grand Canyon. I continued east to the Tusayan Museum and Ruins where the remains of an Ancestral Puebloan settlement said to date back to 1185 A.D. sits preserved. With the remains of Native American settlements dating back hundreds of years and only a small percentage of the canyon surveyed, there is a lot of artifacts and history left undiscovered. Many tribes including the Havasupai, Hopi, Hualapai, Navajo, and Paiute once called this area home.

Hopi POint
Hopi Point
selfie
A token “selfie”
Museum
Tusayan Museum

My last stop in the park was the Desert View Watchtower. This perfectly executed re-creation of an Indian watchtower was envisioned by architect Mary Colter. Colter was so demanding in the building of this watchtower that any sign of a modern tool mark on the outside of the stone structure was inexcusable. The tower sits seventy feet high on a cliff side overlooking the canyon and the Colorado River. The circular interior spirals up leading to several different floors. Murals painted by Hopi artist Fred Kabotie cover the walls and add to the authentic feel.

tower
Desert View Watchtower
inside tower
Interior of Desert View Watchtower
tree trunk
A fighter

I finished off the day by finding a campsite right outside the park entrance and taking some time to relax. I followed a dirt road up into the forest until I decided on a secluded site deep in the woods. A stone fire ring had been placed in the clearing where I parked and it sat begging to be used. I took what daylight I had left and walked around collecting firewood. I fashioned the wood in a teepee-like structure utilizing various layers of both kindling and larger pieces of wood. My preparation paid off as night fell and I brought the glowing beast to life. I could feel the heat radiating off the fire as I sat in the back of my SUV eating dinner. I stared at the mesmerizing flames until I got tired and shut my eyes for the night, leaving the fire to eventually burn itself out.

fire
Successful campfire

 

It’s your life. Demand adventure.

– Jon

 

 

Westbound: Yosemite National Park, CA

My journey pushed me on to Yosemite National Park. I made the three and a half hour drive from San Francisco to the park and planned to use the remainder of the day to look around, get a feel for what is there, and plan out how to best tackle the park the following day. After spending the previous two days battling crowds in San Francisco, I was looking forward to a little forest solitude. What I ended up with; however, was something completely different.

Entrance sign
Yosemite National Park entrance

As luck would have it I arrived in Yosemite at quite possibly the worse day of the year. Not only was it a weekend, it was a National Park Week and Earth Day weekend. This tragic trifecta managed to bring in unimaginable hordes of people. The fact it was a weekend brought in the usual weekend warriors, Earth Day brought in the nostalgic conservationists, while National Park Week, with its free admission, managed to bring in everybody else who are too cheap to pay for admission any other time of year.

valley overlook
Yosemite

Once I passed the entrance to the park I headed towards Yosemite Valley. It was not long before this two lane road became a parking lot full of brake lights as far as the eye could see. The slowly creeping traffic lasted for hours as I made my way to the heart of the park. I took this opportunity to enjoy the scenery and the slow pace gave me ample time to thoroughly examine everything off the roadway. I passed by raging rivers as the road weaved through the forest. Granite cliffs began to suddenly appear on every side and towered high into the sky. It was difficult to grasp the size of the massive rock faces staring down at me until I noticed the numerous waterfalls shooting narrowly down the vertical surfaces, providing a sense of scale. Yosemite has an undeniable beauty, one that somehow feels slightly more patriotic than the other national parks. I thought to myself, if there was one park used to visually represent America and its perceived greatness, this would be it.

traffic
Battling traffic
waterfall
One of many waterfalls
rock face
Granite cliffs

I finally made it into Yosemite Valley, an area surrounded by granite cliffs and the location of the visitor’s center, a small grocery store, a museum, and other similar resources. After an extensive battle to find parking I slid into a spot beside a large grassy field not far from the visitor’s center. I could see from across the field a line of cars in bumper to bumper traffic with no sign of letting up anytime soon. Having officially reached my destination, I became increasingly aware of the exhaustion I was feeling from the day of driving and I began to get a slight headache. I looked across the field again at the line of stagnant cars and decided I would stay put, take a nap, and wait for the sun to set to clear out the excess traffic.

When I woke up I noticed the sun was falling behind the mountains and a large herd of deer were grazing in the field outside my window. The line of cars on the opposite side of the field were moving steadily out of the park now and I knew it would only be time before the darkness would finish clearing everyone out. I made myself a sandwich, watched the deer meander by, and waited for the sun to finish falling.

window-deer
Herd of deer

It seemed like only minutes before the daylight disappeared and the last of the headlights leaving the park vanished through the trees. I was able to get a signal on my phone here if I pressed it up against the car window, so I took this time to search for a place to stay for the night. My trusty freecampsites.net website came back with several options surrounding the park. There was no camping allowed inside the park so all of the options required a bit of a drive. I chose a campsite that appeared to be the closest to me, plugged in the coordinates, and headed out of the park. Although I did not have any traffic to contend with at this time of night, the drive still took the better side of thirty minutes, maybe longer. I eventually passed by the park entrance and merged to the right at the first fork in the road. I followed this winding road for several miles until the GPS spat me out at the entrance to a campsite with a large sign stating: NO ENTRY-CAMPGROUND FULL. It was late and the only place I knew of with cell service to search for another campsite was back in the valley were I just came from. Judging by the amount of traffic I witnessed earlier on in the day I had my doubts I would find anything available within any reasonable distance, so I drove past the sign and hoped for the best. The campsite was laid out in a big circle with the entrance and the exit meeting each other at a single point. I began the drive around the one-way loop and noticed tents, lanterns, and campfires blanketing the area. It appeared that each section of five campsites had a designated group of parking spaces to share. I circled around to a sign indicating parking for campsites six through ten and I wedged in between a car on the end of the row and a tree. I was glad I wasn’t toting around a camper or anything else large and conspicuous, otherwise I would not have been able to sneak into a spot for the night undetected.

I woke up early the next morning and immediately had flashbacks of the traffic I dealt with the day before. I quickly got dressed and hit the road, hoping to beat any onslaught of visitors to the park. The drive into the valley was much more pleasant than the day before. I found parking without a problem and I stopped by the visitor’s center for a map along with some advice on what to see. I started off my tour by driving up the road to the Mirror Lake trailhead. I took my mountain bike off the roof of my car and reattached the front wheel which was stored behind the front passenger seat. After packing up some water and snacks I hit the trail. I covered a lot of ground quickly on the bike as I sped along the rocky path feeling the rush of wind on my face as I leaned hard around the sharp corners of the trail. I had my doubts about whether or not I was actually allowed to be biking along this particular trail but I reasoned with myself that it was early, I had beat the crowds, I had a lot of park to cover in a short amount of time, and I was simply having too much fun. The path followed the course of a river, passing by a couple of small falls before arriving at an area which opened up into a motionless lake covered with what appeared to be a sheet of glass. The still waters gave off a flawless reflection of the tall mountains and trees surrounding it.

visitor center- bear trap
Yosemite visitor center
mirror lake
Mirror Lake

I made my way back to the car and after arriving I loosened the quick release of my front bike wheel in order to remove it. I leaned the wheel up against the rear bumper of my car as I hoisted the bike back onto its rack. My mind drifted to where I needed to go next as I secured the bike down. I jumped down off the running boards and hopped behind the driver’s seat, eager to get to the next stop. As I slowly turned the steering wheel while backing out of the parking space, I heard a slight clunking noise somewhere in the general area between me and the engine compartment. Given the fact I had been essentially torture testing my vehicle over the last month, I just thought it was finally starting to complain a little bit and I hoped the noise would be an isolated incident.

My next stop was Yosemite Falls. I parked at the trailhead and hiked to the base of these enormous cascading wonders. The upper falls shot off a high hanging cliff above and landed on a level area halfway up the mountain before falling from a second cliff, creating the lower falls. The upper falls were roughly twice the length of the very impressive lower falls and the combination was quite a sight to behold.

both falls
Yosemite Falls
lower falls 2
Lower Yosemite Falls
lower falls
Lower Yosemite Falls

Before leaving the park I made my way to a trail promising great views of the famous El Capitan rock formation. Once considered an impossible climb, it is now a worldwide standard for elite rock climbers. The smooth granite face slopes inward halfway up before gradually sloping back out, daring even the most competent climber to ascend it. I graciously bowed out and made my way back to the trailhead from whence I came.

el capitan
El Capitan

With Glacier Point being closed and having seen the major sights in the park, I made my way out of Yosemite and started the six hour drive to Las Vegas, Nevada. Three hours into the drive I noticed the slab of Maple I picked up at a woodshop in Southern Oregon and the air pump for my bike, both sitting behind the front passenger seat, were shifting wildly back and forth whenever I applied the brakes. Coming to the realization this was an annoyance I did not have before, I reached behind the seat to examine what had changed. It took me a second and then I realized what was missing; my front bike wheel. I thought back to the suspicious clunking noise I heard when backing out of the parking space at Yosemite and it became clear this was the crunching sound of a lightweight alloy bike wheel being smashed, not complaints coming from the engine compartment. I briefly ran through my options in my head and decided not to turn around. Even if the wheel had not been destroyed, the additional six hours of driving was not worth the effort to retrieve it.

 

It’s your life. Demand adventure.

-Jon

 

Westbound: San Francisco, CA

The drive from Redwood National Park in Northern California to San Francisco was beautiful. It started off along the coast with the ocean and mountains funneling me along. The landscape slowly changed as the roadway diverged inland and vineyards began to fill the green rolling hills. I got lost in the drive, opening the sunroof and rolling down the windows, realizing why people suggest a convertible for a drive through California. The pleasant landscape continued as I arrived in San Francisco. Large hills butted up against waterways, rocky coastlines seamlessly blended with residential developments, and grand bridges linked one otherwise inaccessible piece of land to another. It became glaringly apparent why so many people love California. The area appeared to be nothing short of a paradise. Temperate weather, stunning landscapes, hills, ocean, lush vegetation; a combination that is hard to beat.

Golden Gate Bridge

The somewhat darker reality hit me the first evening I was in town. I followed my GPS to a Holiday Inn somewhere in the outskirts of San Francisco in an attempt to find a place to park my car for the night. I stopped at an intersection at one point and had that feeling you get when someone outside your field of vision is looking at you. I turned my head to find two Hispanic males in a lowered pickup truck inspecting me and my vehicle. After spending several years as a cop I feel as though I have a pretty good sense to know when something is off, and something here felt off. I continued to the Holiday Inn several miles down the road, pulled into the parking lot, looked around, and drove right back out. It was one of those areas that looked just rough enough for me to know immediately I was not comfortable staying there. I plugged in the next closest Holiday Inn which showed to be located in the middle of downtown San Francisco. I choose to use Holiday Inns for a couple of reasons. First, Holiday Inns are generally the most common hotel and are usually grouped within close proximity to several other decent hotel choices. Second, Holiday Inns typically fall in that sweet spot of nice enough to where you feel safe in the area but not too nice to where someone will notice if you park there for the night. I forewent my usual checking of the freecampsites.net website at this point, automatically assuming there would be no good options within reasonable driving distance from such a large city. As I arrived downtown at the next hotel I found there were electronic gates blocking anyone without proper access from entering the parking lot in order to keep unwanted guests from taking advantage of the prime location. Before completely admitting defeat I checked one other hotel nearby hoping to find a different outcome in the same location. Not surprisingly, they all had a similar parking barrier. Defeated and tired I decided to check the freecampsites.net website on the off chance there was an option somewhere within driving distance. I was surprised to find one location, rated well, that was right at the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge. I plugged the coordinates into my GPS, headed away from downtown, drove over the bridge, and immediately turned off into a large viewing area with ample parking. I looped around the long semicircle drive and pulled into a spot between two RVs that appeared to be staked out for the night. I proceeded to settle in for the night and before covering the large rear window of the SUV I took a minute to admire the illuminated Golden Gate Bridge that was literally steps away from where I was parked. I was thankful as I thought to myself how it would be difficult to find a better view anywhere in San Francisco for any amount of money, and this was not costing me a dime.

 

My car camping spot for two nights

 

The next morning I awoke with a sense of purpose, knowing I had a lot of city to cover. I had a general itinerary planned out from suggestions I had previously received and articles I had read online. I drove into the city and parked along the waterfront around Pier 33. Having already spent some time driving around the city, I had an uneasy feeling about leaving my car and bike unattended for a prolonged period of time. This unsettling feeling of the city having more than its share of crime was more pronounced than anywhere else I had previously stopped during this particular trip around the country. I paid a relatively large amount of money for all day parking in an open lot across the street from the pier. After parking my car, I walked across the street to the ferry that would bring me to my first stop, Alcatraz Island.

 

Ferry to Alcatraz Island

I took the short boat ride across the bay to the notoriously inescapable prison that had housed such infamous criminals as Al Capone, “Machine-Gun” Kelley, “Whitey” Bulger, “Creepy” Karpis, “The Birdman” Stroud, and several other convicts with less interesting nicknames. After picking up a handset for a self guided tour, I walked around the prison for a couple of hours as the recorded voices of previous inmates and guards spoke to me through the padded headphones. The voices recounted stories of life at the prison, how riots happened in certain rooms, and murders took place in certain cells. The colorful history was fascinating as I heard the stories and could touch the very walls of where it all happened. On the lighter side of the island’s history, it was interesting to learn that the American Indians confiscated the island for nineteen months as a way of protesting unfair treatment. This happened right around 1970, several years after the prison had been officially shut down due to repairs being too costly to keep up. Many politically charged statements written by these American Indians can still be seen today around the prison walls.

 

Alcatraz prison

 

Alcatraz prison cells

 

After I returned from Alcatraz I made my way back to my car to make sure my bike had not been forcefully removed from the locked roof rack it sat on. I was glad to find all my belongings intact but was not surprised when I noticed the car next to mine had a smashed out rear driver’s side window, and from my experience, I would guess a missing bag. Thieves typically use a small piece of ceramic taken off a spark plug which they throw at a car window to shatter it. This takes only seconds and allows them to quickly reach in your car and grab the bag you left sitting on your back seat. Most car alarms don’t sound if the door itself is not opened and it allows for a quick and easy payday for the thief. My car was likely left alone because the locked bike was too bulky and attention grabbing to mess with out in the open and I had such a confusing array of belongings strewn about the car, it would be too time consuming to figure out what was worth grabbing. The single bag out in the open, empty or not, is the usual target for these sorts of smash and grabs. I contemplated whether or not I should move my car and I ended up deciding to stay. It was highly unlikely anymore cars would be burglarized at this exact location again on the same day it had already been hit. In reality, parking next to the car that was just broken into is probably the safest bet because the police will be showing up at some point once it is reported and the thieves know this. I took my bike down and covered all the windows on the off chance that any other prying eyes might pass bye. Considering I had paid for all day parking, I decided to leave my car here and cover the city by bike.

Lunch time was rolling around so I biked over to the Ferry Building in search of a particular restaurant I had read about in Time Magazine. The writer strongly suggested The Slanted Door for a great meal and highly praised the shaking beef in particular. Being known for its great food, I was excited to taste what San Francisco had to offer, as the battle for the most restaurants per capita is a close one with my own Portland, Maine. I had barely glanced over the menu before the waiter came over to introduce himself. I asked him about the shaking beef and he enthusiastically explained that it was one of their most popular dishes. “Sold,” I said before considering anything else. While I waited for my meal I soaked in the atmosphere. It was nice, without being stuffy. I was rather casually dressed but did not feel completely out of place, at least during the lunch rush. I felt a little awkward about leaving my hat on inside, as I generally consider this rude, but I was afraid the unkept mess lying underneath would be somehow less acceptable. Once the food came out I immediately noticed the well thought out presentation and I hoped it tasted as good as it looked. The struggle with a pricey meal is you want it to meet the lofty expectations the price tag creates, and more often then not it doesn’t. This meal, for me, for the price, just barely missed the mark. While it was very good, I have had other meals, oftentimes for less money, that have been better. The filet mignon was accompanied by spinach, red onions, and some sort of lime sauce. There was no significant complexity of flavors building off each other, just a slightly overbearing zest from the lime sauce.

The Slanted Door

 

After eating lunch, the torture began. I spent the day covering San Fransisco by bike. Although much more efficient than walking, the effort climbing all the steep roadways became excruciating after several hours. I biked from AT&T Park on the east side of San Francisco all the way to the Great Highway on the west coast. I stopped at many of the notable neighborhoods dotting this area and explored the surprisingly beautiful Golden Gate Park. I would consider the thought of not going to Golden Gate Park while in San Francisco as being equally absurd as not going to Central Park while in New York City.

 

The uphill battle

 

China town

 

Golden Gate Park

 

Golden Gate Park

 

Golden Gate Park

I eventually made my way north along the water passing long stretches of sandy beaches and eventually coming back around to the Golden Gate Bridge. I continued around the bay until I was stopped in my tracks by the sight and smell of a large gathering of food trucks. The day was disappearing along with my dinner plans and I had many miles left to bike to get back to my car. I followed the sound of live music as I road up to the entrance of this intentionally laid out circle of food truck deliciousness. Off the Grid organizes food trucks in various parts of the city, using a variety of great food to bring the community together. With all of the choices, I had to limit myself to only going to the trucks with the longest lines and what I theorized would be the best food. I started off with a tent called Happy Dumplings and decided to try the pork belly along with the spinach and chicken dumplings. Both were fantastic, but the pork belly took the win. I migrated over to Bombzies BBQ looking for a main course and the Korean BBQ with kimchi and green onion over a bowl of jasmine rice was suggested. The flavors were outstanding and the dish did not disappoint in any way. Before I could escape this circle of temptation, the Johnny Doughnuts truck reeled me in and the cashier could not give me a definitive answer as to whether the cinnamon sugar doughnut filled with pastry cream or the cinnamon roll was a better choice; so I went with both. Living around what I would argue are the best bakeries in the country, my expectations are high. These sugar filled balls of goodness were tasty, but not nearly as exceptional as the food I had experienced right before them. Of course this pastry mediocrity did not stop me from finishing them off though.

 

Biking along the coast

 

Food trucks

 

Food trucks

 

Biking past Golden Gate Bridge

 

Having a full belly and a long rest, my legs were shocked when I returned to the bike and began tackling more hills. Apparently they thought I was done for the day and had began their post workout tightening and aching. I made it around the north end and entered the Fisherman’s Wharf area. Pier 39 was nearby where I could hear the sea lions barking at each other as they all tried to squeeze on top of the small floating docks in the bay. I road along the remainder of the waterfront and finally made it back to the car. The sun had just about completely set, my legs were screaming, and my car windows were still intact. It was a good day.

Fishermans Wharf

 

It’s your life. Demand adventure.

– Jon

Westbound: Badlands National Park, SD

I am usually thrilled to drive through a state I have never been to before; however, the thought of driving through South Dakota did not exactly rouse me from sleep this morning. Truth be told, I reset my alarm for an additional twenty minutes after waking up because at that moment sleep actually sounded better than South Dakota. I guess I always assumed it was one of the many states that simply did not have anything interesting to offer. I never really heard anyone raving about their vacation in South Dakota nor have I seen travel magazines running articles about it being a hidden gem. But hey, maybe I’m talking to the wrong people and looking in the wrong places because to my surprise I actually enjoyed the long drive across this arguably bland state. It’s difficult to put my finger on it, but South Dakota has something special in its own little way. I think the overwhelming shadow of what’s not there consumes what is and what your left with is, well, South Dakota.


It is almost as if the hand of time has passed over South Dakota, leaving it to continue on exactly as it has for the last hundred years. The majority of the countryside is uninhabited; untouched and unaware of the masses that reside outside of its borders. The drive through was enjoyable and the landscape had a certain appeal to it. There were long roads that wound ever so gently through the endless rolling hills. The land was made up of endless prairie that turned from green irrigated farmland to grasslands as far as the eye can see. The terrain is smooth with beautiful scorched grasses all bent over to the will of the winds.

The state appeared rather consistent until I reached my destination at Badlands National Park. Valleys began to quickly appear in the earth and sharp canyon walls jutted into the sky. The aggressive lines and sharp points of the canyons were reminiscent of the old gothic stylings of cathedrals I have seen across Europe. The colors were unique and unlike any place I have seen before. Series of red lines run horizontal along many of the canyon walls. As I drove through the area I discovered the land would change from aggressive canyons to rounded mounds to open prairie and back again. Each area provided an assortment of colors splashed along its walls. The canyons had reds, the mounds had greens and yellows, and the prairies didn’t need the excitement of a myriad of colors because the senses were occupied with countless wild bison, deer, sheep, and prairie dogs roaming about. I noticed a sign warning visitors of bison, but I decided to throw caution to the wind and walk out into the field with them. I feel alive when communing with such strong beautiful creatures. I can see by the way they look at me they are not intimidated. We both recognize I am a visitor in their home, one that will simply be tolerated at a reasonable distance.





The excitement continued on into the evening. I looked up a location on freecampsites.net and found a nearby campsite just outside the park. I plugged in the GPS coordinates of 43.890031, -102.226789 and began to drive. Soon after exiting the park I took a sharp right onto what appeared to be a small dirt access road. I followed this small path for a short distance until the path ended and turned into prairie. A large metal tower, possibly a cell tower, sat on top of one of the many rolling hills. I drove past the tower, through the fields, and over to a large drop off. I parked my SUV as close as possible to the cliff and opened the back door to let the cool breeze flow in. Looking out the back as I lay there gave the impression I was floating. I could not see any earth beneath the back of my vehicle, only a drop off and distant canyons. You never know where your going to end up when you pick a random set of GPS coordinates of a “campsite” located near you. I couldn’t have asked for a better location. Remote, no roads, beautiful scenery- just the way I like it.

Night fell and the sun tucked behind the mountains in the distance creating an orange and red glow on the horizon. I unfolded my camping chair, made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and sat along the cliff to enjoy the show. The sun’s rays eventually disappeared and made room for the darkness. The clear day made for a cloudless night. The absence of city lights created the deepest of blacks; a backdrop for the incredible amount of stars. More stars than I have ever seen. They blanketed the night sky as if to provide comfort and remind me I wasn’t alone.


It’s your life. Demand adventure.

– Jon