Yosemite

Moving on to post number two of my trip to the West - this one about Yosemite National Park.  Although I don't plan to spend too much time physically typing about my adventures here, I feel the need to state the obvious.  This area is absolutely stunning.

We made our first stop at Glacier point - a whopping .1 mile stroll down a paved path from the parking lot.  Despite the hoards of people taking in one of the most popular views in the park, I do think that it was worth the drive from our campground.  Even more, we managed to power-walk our way up the nearby Sentinel Dome to catch most of the sunset.  Keep in mind that these photos are a bit deceiving - Casey and I posed atop a rock in an effort to cut out the heads of the dozens of people milling around.

Glacier Point

Me and Casey at Glacier Point

View of half dome from Glacier Point

Sentinel Dome

This was just a short 2.2 mile hike (1.1 miles each way).  We made our way up quickly in order to catch most of sunset and were gifted with gorgeous views of the night sky on the way back.

The sun starting to set on the way up

The side of approach

atop the dome

atop the dome

Mt. Hoffman

 The day following our arrival, we decided to embark on a 6 mile hike up Mount Hoffman and back.  It took my breath away - quite literally.  The effects of altitude are pretty impressive and I found myself out of breath much more quickly than usual.  That said, the 2000 vertical feet climbed over 3 miles to the peak would have taken its toll on me regardless of the location.  Despite my constant need for breaks, the hike was incredible and the views unreal.

May Lake

Chipmunk at May Lake

View of May Lake from the Trail

Snow in August!

More incredible views

View on the way down

Vernal Falls

On the day following our hike to Mt. Hoffman, we decided to head down in elevation to Yosemite Valley.  The hike to vernal falls was short at only 1.5 miles each way, but steep and extremely crowded the whole way up.  I wasn't a fan of the hike's popularity, but the waterfall was worth it.  Even in August with just a small flow, it was pretty breathtaking, especially when the sun shone at just the right angle to create a beautiful rainbow in the mist.

Vernal Falls in August 2013

Rainbow in the falls

Rainbow in the falls

Tuolumne Meadows

On our final full day in the park, we headed to tuolumne meadows and spent our time wandering up to pothole dome and then along the river.  The river could easily have been my favorite place in the park.  We followed a fisherman's trail and then walked a few miles down the river, passing crystal clear swimming holes and sliding rocks along the way.  All this with just a handful of other people.

View from Pothole Dome

Walking up Pothole Dome

Casey and I on Pothole Dome

Mule deer in Tuolumne Meadows

The meadows

One of the crystal clear swimming holes

Another river view

Some small falls

Joshua Tree National Park

And so begins my attempt to quickly summarize what very well could have been some of the best hiking (and one of the best overall experiences) of my life.  I say 'quickly' because I'm really just not in a writing mood, but I want to make sure I place these experiences on paper...(or screen?). Without this little bit of effort today, I worry that they might become lost in some dusty corner of my brain along with the location of my favorite flip flops, the recipe for my grandma's peach and blueberry pie, and the names of most everyone that I just met on this very fine last first day as an undergraduate student.

Not that I would ever be able to begin to do justice to any of these phenomenal locations in text, but I feel even more pained sticking them all together into one lonely little rarely read blog post.  That said, I feel even more pained at the thought of sitting here writing.  Instead, I intend to do a bit of a photo montage.

Ryan Mountain - Joshua Tree National Park

This was far from one of my favorite hikes in the world as it was a pretty bleak uphill climb for 1.4 miles to provide views in every direction of exactly what you might have seen from ground level.  That said, there is something humbling about standing atop a giant mound of dirt and seeing nothing but dirt as far as the eye could see.  The desert is a pretty incredible place.

Me and Casey on the hike up

Casey ponders the desert

Some desert views

a single Joshua tree near the top

Although the hike up Ryan Mountain was far from a favorite of mine, we did have a lot of fun bouldering around on some of the large rock formations in the area.

Random Rocks - Joshua Tree National Park

Bright Angel Trail - Grand Canyon, AZ

And so begins the post that is unlikely to even begin to do justice to this magnificent piece of earth.  I may lag a bit on adding this hike to the page section; however, I wanted to write a bit about the experience while it was still fresh in my mind. 

I haven't done much hiking outside of the tiny chunk of Virginia and North Carolina nearest to where I live and go to school.  Don't get me wrong - there's a sort of splendor about green trees, dense forests, trickling streams, and the sound of leaves crunching from underneath a pair of hiking boots.  But I was ready to try something new, see something new, and go on a marvelous adventure with only the best boyfriend in the world.  And so we called up Casey's cousin, begged him to take us down the canyon for our first (and his fifth) time, and booked ourselves a set of flights to Phoenix, AZ.  We arrived in Phoenix feeling fresh and sprightly at 10 AM their time and I was introduced to the extended family.  The canyon wasn't far away.  We were stoked. 

Actually, if I want to speak with all honesty, I should say Casey was stoked.  I was teetering on the edge of a superb sense of excitement and an ever growing fear of falling off a cliff into the abyss, dying of heat stroke, getting mauled by a rabid, plague carrying squirrel, and otherwise finding myself carried out of the canyon on a gurney.  But by god, I am a sucker, and I really do love to hike, and so I agreed to wake up at the painful hour of 2 AM (5 AM Virginia time - hallelujah!) to embark on a drive from Phoenix, AZ to the south rim of the grand canyon.  Steven, Casey's cousin, managed to shave an hour and a half off of the GPS's initial predicted arrival time which leads me to wonder if I should have been more terrified about the prospect of even making it to the canyon alive.  As it went, though, we did arrive alive and upon stepping out of the car wondered how the hell the temperature could be expected to quite literally double within the next 12 hours.  Shivering, we donned our packs.  Mine felt a bit like a baby gorilla. 

Before we started downward, we were pleased to be able to see the sun rise over the grand canyon (a sight which my crappy point and shoot camera sadly didn't even attempt to capture well) and get a good look at an entirely too tame elk grazing on the lawn beside the lodge.  The beginning of the trip down wasn't bad at all.  The views were truly awe inspiring and the trail was clearly constructed with safety and visitor comfort in mind.  For the first 4.5 miles of the 9.5 mile journey to the campground at the bottom, there was a water station and toilet every 1.5 miles.  Each station also had an emergency phone, which settled my mind a bit. It was also more than impossible to get lost.  There was one trail in one direction - down/up.



with a couple from the Netherlands that we met on the way

As the sun rose, the heat came with it.  Fortunately, with a fairly early start, by the time we reached the halfway point, it was still only 80 something degrees outside, which feels quite pleasant in such a dry climate.  We continued.  By the time we neared the river, the heat seemed to be increasing exponentially and my left heel was begging for mercy from my boots.  I am convinced that my feet must be two different sizes, because while I am still sporting some sexy blisters on my left heel, my right foot remained entirely unscathed throughout the whole ordeal.  Never-the-less, I pressed through the blisters and as the true heat of the day caught up with us, we dipped our hands into the

Colorado river.  Down on my knees, with my hands and forearms pressed flat to the edge of the constant ebb and flow of the river water, I must've looked like I was praying to some deity.  In reality, I worshipped the cool water against my wrists.

The last mile or so from the river to the campground was the hardest.  By now, it was nearing noon and the sun was overhead and I was feeling the effects of the pack and the mileage.  Seeing the tiny buildings that signified the finale of the day's travel was a relief.  We walked across a little bridge over the river with a sense of fatigued pride and picked out a campsite where we dunked our heads under the cold drinking water pipe (probably not technically allowed) before setting up camp.  With the temperatures hovering around 100 F now, we spent the rest of the day sitting on rocks in the brown creek with our ankles submerged, playing cards, and ordering ice filled drinks from the tiny general mart at Phantom ranch.  I also bought myself two postcards - one for keeps and one which was carried out of the canyon by mule and should be arriving to my parents any day now.

Near the end of the first day, we attempted to make ourselves some dinner by rehydrating some simple freeze dried meals.  This should have been a simple process.  Boil water.  Remove little oxygen pack from bag.  Add water to bag.  Stir.  Wait.  Eat.  Of course, we managed to screw it up.  Oh no, not once - but three times.  The worst was when Steven decided to ditch the directions and add the mix and water together into the pot.  Let's just say that backpacking stoves are not the sturdiest of things and when the pot was accidentally bumped, our campsite was instantly filled with hot, half cooked macaroni and a variety of animals trying to get their chance at the food.  We cleaned up the macaroni into a trash bag, fended off the (also all too tame) squirrel at the edge of our campsite with a shoe, and let the flies and ants do their thing.  Of course, now we were left with a wet, macaroni and gravel filled bag and the prospect of carrying the thing 5000+ feet back up the canyon.  Miraculously, and thanks to some very kind rangers, we were able to leave the bag with the staff at the bottom to be taken up in the mule train the following day.

We headed to bed shortly after our dinner fiasco with alarms set for 2:45 AM and a leave time of 4:00 AM.  Upon leaving the campground, we stopped atop the bridge, this time to view the night sky from the bottom of the grand canyon.  It was nothing short of amazing.



me on the way up

I won't bore you with the trip back up.  Picture the trip down, but in reverse, with bruised hips, pre-blistered feet, and a certain haste with the promise of sleeping in a comfy bed upon arrival back to civilization.  We played leapfrog with a few hiking groups, sang sing-alongs, drank huge amounts of water, peed huge amounts of water, and continuously remarked about the magnitude and grandeur of the area.  And finally - finally after 7 hours of uphill climbing with a 20+ lb pack on my back.  I made it out of the canyon.  Three energetic people entered.  Three very tired people exited.  And you know what?  It was one of the most fantastic hikes of my life even if I walked like a penguin for the next three days.



Potomac Heritage Trail

Today Casey, Maxwell, and I decided to embark on the Potomac Heritage Trail.  We started from the entrance point at the end of Live Oak Drive in McLean and hiked ten miles down to the parking area at Roosevelt Island.  It's an interesting little hike to say the least.  Nestled between the highway and the Potomac River, it provided a relatively constant hum of traffic, but also afforded some beautiful views of the river.  At times, I was tempted to jump in despite the plethora of "No Swimming" signs posted at the sweetest looking spots.  I restrained myself and continued my sweaty slog alongside the river instead.  This was probably just as well, because apparently just today a teenage boy was lost in the river.  We heard some helicopters overhead as we were hiking, but it wasn't until I sat down in front of the TV tonight, that I heard the news story.  It appears that the "search and rescue" is now being deemed a "search and recovery," which is quite unfortunate.  My thoughts are with that boy.  It's amazing what water can hide from you.  On the surface, that river looks as inviting in parts as any I've seen.

Despite roughly 11 miles of hiking (we meandered out of the way a few times, adding to the ten mile itinerary), we all made it to Roosevelt Island, where we had placed a second car.  I suppose walking alongside a river has its merits, because the elevation changes were relatively few and the uphill areas did seem to be roughly matched by the downs, despite this being a one-way hike.  Don't get me wrong - there were times that I was huffing and puffing and the 90 degree weather and the encompassing humidity didn't help - but all in all, not a bad trek.  There were toads aplenty and we even saw a deer, several skinks, a couple of great blue herons, and a few chipmunks.


I finished the trail in good spirits, which quickly soured as we began our return trip via car.  We drove together back to our starting point, where I was able to pick up my car.  All was good and well, except that I have roughly zero directional sense and apparently a lackluster memory to boot, so getting back was a struggle.  I plugged Casey's address into my GPS, but we were hoping to get back onto the GW parkway and return in a reasonable 45 minutes.  Instead, the 45 minute journey turned into an hour and twenty minutes of traffic lights and irritable NoVA drivers.  I wasn't in the best of moods by the time I made it home, but when Casey arrived a few minutes later in his car with a milkshake, I couldn't help but smile (isn't he great!?).  Conclusion?  Milkshakes are good, hikes are uplifting, my boyfriend is the best, and I am never, ever, ever, driving in Northern Alexandria ever again.

Strickler Knob

What a hidden gem this was.  I must say I'm glad I found it.  That said, Strickler Knob wasn't the original plan.  Rather, Casey and I were set to take ourselves on a 17 mile overnighter to test out our backpacks (and willpower), but the weather forecasters scared me away.  I am sure Casey would appreciate that I reiterate that the weather forecasters scared me away - not him.  He was merely intent on being a good boyfriend and not having the deal with the avalanche of "I told you so's" should I feel a drop of rain as we were hiking.  The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and weather.com and every other weather service that I could find seemed intent to inform me that I was planning my imminent demise should I choose to spend the night in a flimsy little tent.  "Scattered thunderstorms." "Wait, no, BIG thunderstorms!" "Tornado watch!!!" "Stay inside. Lock the doors. Hide out in a basement! Everybody panic!"  I'm a good rule follower.  I panicked.

And with that, I put together a menagerie of possible little day hikes that might fulfill Casey's need for "strenuous" and my need to be locked away under a real roof when the rain struck.  I laid my proposal out to Casey with care and we decided that Strickler Knob might just be an okay alternative.  Even more, a little hike called Bearfence Mountain was only an hours drive from Strickler, so if we were feeling it, we'd be able to do both in one day.  And so we departed, still with our backpacks, as if to salvage just a little bit of the original plan.  The new plan?  Hike Strickler Knob with the packs on, drive to Bearfence, return home, and call it a day.

The drive from Northern Virginia (I'm home for June!) wasn't bad, although I should admit that I sang along to music in the passenger seat while Casey did the driving.  The sky was still a bright bird's egg blue when we arrived at the trailhead and set off to our destination.  From what we had read, the trail to Strickler Knob was not an official trail and so might not be particularly well kept up or marked.  This had a bit of merit to it, but really - there was little to no fear of ever getting "lost."  The first (nearly) two miles of the trip were on a path that was more of a fire road - rocky at parts, but quite wide - and definitely official trails.  It isn't until you need to make the turn for the last leg of the hike (at which point you are less than a mile from the knob) that the going gets a bit more tricky.  Namely, the tricky part for us was actually finding the turn.  Once we found it, there were more than enough faded pinkish beige markers to keep us headed in the appropriate direction.  We missed the turn off for the unofficial trail the first time around and proceeded to hike another 3 tenths of a mile down the other side of the mountain before we decided that we had gone too far.  But hey, we saw some tadpoles in a little puddle, which was nice.  The sky?  Still cloudless and blue.  We turned around and did manage to find the trail branching off of the main Massanutten Trail right at the top of the ridge.  If you start going down the other side, you have gone too far.

For as uneventful as the first section of the hike was, this last leg was a lot of fun. 

The way was rocky, with some rock scrambling at the end and at least three or four beautiful overlooks before we even reached the main overlook point (from which there were 360 degree views).  Better than Old Rag, I'd say.  The rock scrambling wasn't quite as intense, but it was fun.  The only downside was that from the moment that we left the car until the moment we arrived back at the car, we were plagued by a wide variety of bugs.  The gnats were the first of our nemeses.  They seemed to subside a bit as we reached the ridge, but then came the flies and one very irritating, very persistent little bee.   

At the top, we had planned to eat our lunch, admire the views, and then head back.  The bee seemed to want to join us.  He buzzed around and proceeded to land on my arm.  I'm not afraid of bees, but I really didn't want to get stung and wasn't quite sure of the correct protocol when a bee decides to spend ten minutes feasting on the sweat on your arm.  He was totally content.  I was concerned.  Casey was laughing his head off, but refusing to get any closer than a good three feet from me and the bee.  I devised a plan.  Using my left arm, I snatched the bag of fruit and seed mix that we had brought.  I removed a single piece of dried pineapple and stuck it in front of the bee's face.  It took him a minute, but eventually he placed all (six I think?) feet onto the pineapple chunk.  Step one: check.  In a quick swoop, I chucked the pineapple off the side of the cliff.  Step two: check.  And then the bleak (re)realization of "oh shit, bees can fly" as the bee zoomed back off of the falling pineapple towards my face.  I brandished my bag of fruit and nut mix at him.  He divebombed me.  I flailed.  Casey fled the overlook rock.  I yelled at Casey.  The bee zoomed in again.  I swatted him. Again.  I made a lunge for the side of the rock from which we had gotten up.  I started to climb down.  And got stuck halfway.  The bee landed on my leg.  Well crap.

And there I was, clinging to the edge of the rock, a cliff on one side of me, not quite sure where the next rock was to place my foot, a bee on my leg, all whilst begging that Casey please come back and help me get down.  Casey took one look at the bee and decided to direct me from afar.  I continued to panic.  He finally came to my rescue and plucked me off of the rock wall and placed me onto the lower rock base.  Turns out I was about three inches away the whole time.  Oops.

Long story short, we survived our close encounter with the bumble bee (I know I sound like a real tough hiker here...) and successfully carried 20 pounds apiece up and down the trail.

As we were leaving, my mother called, having heard the weather reports, telling us that we'd best return home.  We went ahead and skipped the trip to Bearfence Mountain.  That massive storm?  Yeah, it still hasn't rained a drop.

Harkening Hill - Peaks of Otter

We finally completed the last of the Peaks of Otter Trio!  Don't get me wrong - these hikes only total about 12 miles when combined, but we did each on a separate occasion and yesterday just happened to be the time to do Harkening Hill.  It wasn't as impressive as either Flat Top or Sharp Top, but the trail was nice, interesting, and did pass by some pretty views (albeit nothing near the magnitude of either of the aforementioned hikes).  Although the views weren't quite up to snuff with the other two peaks, I think I actually enjoyed the trail more.  It appears that nobody has been out to care for the trail since the dawn of Spring, because the trail is now merely a one man wide path that is extremely overgrown at parts.  I have started to run.  Jog might be a more appropriate word.  But none-the-less, in an effort to prepare myself for a million killer hikes on the planned trip out west at the end of this summer, I bought myself a spiffy pair of neon orange (the last color left...) running shoes and have started to jog.  Is it making a difference as I hike?  As of now, it's hard to tell. 

Fortunately, no bushwhacking was required, but I'm thankful there didn't seem to be many ticks out because it would have been easy to become covered with how much we were rubbing through the brush.  Either way, it was fun to make our way through the greenery and for the first time on a hike in ju

st about ever (that I recall) I didn't have to stop to huff and puff even once.  This probably had more to do with the fact that I wasn't carrying anything on my back and that the hike itself is pretty easy than it did with my improved fitness, but I should say that I've started running!  Yes - it's true. 

Regardless, this little hike brought a good time with surprisingly cool weather.  It's nearly impossible to get lost (and I can attest well to this I think, seeing as I manage to get lost at every chance that awaits me) provided that you get on the trail next to the "Harkening Hill" map behind the visitor center.  Overall, it was a good little hike and would probably be a great one to bring kids along.

Sulphur Springs Ridge and Price Mountain

I've been slow to write about this little hike that a friend and I did a few weeks ago.  That said, my lack of writing has more to do with my lack of enthusiasm to sit at my computer as the weather warms up than it has to do with the hike itself, which was very nice.  Unfortunately, even as I sit here now, I'm feeling little desire to write out a long play-by-play of the experience, so I think I'll keep this one short.  We walked.  We came upon a stream.  I looked for salamanders and came up empty handed.  We crossed a bridge and climbed to the ridge.  I stopped frequently to huff and puff and complain.  Anthony took picture of me with my bright red face as I tried to dodge the camera.  We questioned if we were lost because the trail seemed to go endlessly up.  We saw a black snake.  I learned that Anthony does not like snakes.  We wandered along the ridge taking in the (slightly obstructed, but pretty) views.  We learned that we were not, in fact lost, and began to descend the mountain via the Price Mountain trail.  We arrived back at our car and made it home, all in one piece. A good day if I may say so.  And that, my friends, was our trip to Sulphur Springs and Price Mountain.