Trading the beauty of the West for the beauty of Home

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The Meander ended at around 6 p.m. on Sunday, September 15.

At first I resisted, but resistance was futile. I surrendered late on Wednesday. Within 36 hours, I was home after 134 days and 10,000 miles on the road.

What happened at 6 p.m.? I’m not quite sure. In the late afternoon, I watched in awe as a heard of 50 bison crossed the Yellowstone River. Within hours, I was so moody during a long traffic jam that I was unmoved passing within feet of the dozen or so bison that were blocking the road.

On Monday, I was numb to the sights of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone – one of the most painted vistas in the American West. Back at camp that night, I recognized my funk and resolved to turn it around.

bison traffic jam at YellowstoneAnd then the weather turned. It rained and hailed all night. The echoes of the thunder boomed off the surrounding mountains. Lying awake in my tent, I counted the seconds between lightning flashes and thunder crashes and determined some strikes were within two miles of camp.

Tuesday’s weather report promised snow flurries and subfreezing overnight lows, so I broke camp and headed south to Grand Teton National Park.

I spent most of Wednesday in the warmth of Jackson Lake Lodge before returning to camp that night. I sat in my car as the frigid rain poured down. Facing another night of rough sleep, I threw in the towel.

I was done.

I found a room in Jackson, hastily broke camp, and drove through the pitch black hoping not to hit a moose. The next day, I drove 650 miles over 11 hours to Page, Ariz., where I bought a six pack of Kiltlifter at Safeway. I was home.

The Beauty of the West

I experienced incredible beauty on the Meander. Our government has protected our 59 most beautiful places as National Parks. I visited 10 of them this summer – not to mention numerous state lands, national forests and monuments, and great cities and towns.

What I’ve seen with my own eyes, most only see in photos or on television. Reproductions can’t do the sights justice, but they can move me to tears.

four peaks kiltlifterIn Leavenworth, Wash., it was photographs of the Pacific’s rocky coasts and the Northwest’s glacial lakes. In Bozeman, Mont., it was paintings of beautiful rivers, big mountains, and, of course, bison.

Alas, squeezing so many sights into a single summer comes with a price. Eventually, it’s hard to differentiate. After all, how many different configurations of mountains, water, and trees can you see in one summer – in one lifetime – and still see them through fresh eyes?

The West is beautiful – overwhelmingly so. It’s so beautiful that it’s numbing. And that’s why I had to throw in the towel. Why spoil one’s first experience with a beautiful place by plowing through it cold, exhausted, and homesick?

The Beauty of Home

My return home was surreal. As I passed through Flagstaff onto the familiar freeway to Phoenix, I began to feel as though I was simply returning from a weekend trip. It was as if Yosemite and the Redwoods and Seattle had all been a dream.

A few weeks ago, a friend asked me, “Do you still want to live in Arizona after all the beauty you experienced?” I took the question to imply that Arizona is not beautiful.

I’ll admit it. The Valley is not as beautiful as Mt. Rainier. Or Glacier. Or the Olympics. Anyone who has been to those places would almost certainly agree.

But the Valley is home. And after 134 days and 10,000 miles on the road, home is plenty beautiful to me.

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bison crossing the yellowstone

Seeking – or creating – an endemic park experience

The last two weeks were a whirlwind. I left Seattle on August 26, camped seven nights in Olympic National Park, drove 12 hours east to Montana (with a two-night layover in Wenatchee, Wash.), camped six nights in Glacier National Park, then drove six hours to Bozeman, Mont.

Whew!Iceberg Lake with Matt

That’s lot of long drives, rainy days, and sleepless nights on the ground. By the time I arrived in Glacier, I was exhausted. When exhaustion sets in, I get grumpy and jaded. I lose my childlike sense of awe and wonder.

That’s too bad, because I’d heard great things about Glacier.

High in the Rocky Mountains on the U.S.-Canada border, Glacier is one of 59 National Parks in the U.S. and one of 193 natural World Heritage Sites on the entire planet.

Alas, for the first few days of the visit, my eyes were closed to its beauty – quite literally. At one point, I fell asleep while praying on the patio of the Many Glacier Lodge.

I wasn’t miserable. Far from it. I drove the amazing (though densely foggy) Going to the Sun Road and I saw my first black bear. It was only visible for two seconds at least 100 yards away as rangers chased it from our campground. But, hey, a bear!

During a ranger program in the Olympics, I learned the term endemism. A species is endemic to its area if it’s found nowhere else on the planet. The ranger then adapted the term to the experience one can have in a particular park and nowhere else.

For example, you can only behold the Yosemite Valley within Yosemite National Park. You can only hug a Redwood on the Redwood Coast.

Finally, on my sixth day in Glacier, I had my endemic experience.

An 11-mile roundtrip hike led me to the Grinnell Glacier. Grinnell is one of 26 glaciers remaining in the park (in 1850, there were five times as many). It won’t exist beyond 2030.

I’d seen glaciers from afar on The Meander. I was not prepared for the view up close.

The ice sheet was truly massive – difficult for this desert rat to comprehend. Although it was sunny and quite warm on the hike, the ice chilled the entire landscape. I countered the cold by snuggling a backpacker meal filled with boiling water. Grinnell Glacier

Water streamed from the glacier as it melted in the summer sun. Rather than cascading directly off the mountain, the melt-water formed an iceberg-covered, deep-turquoise lake in a bowl atop the mountain. Hiking past the series of waterfall-fed lakes that led to the glacier, one would never have guessed there was yet another lake at the pinnacle of the 1,600-foot climb.

I woke up the next morning sore and exhausted. I was wiped out. But, as it was my final day in the park, I willed myself into a 10-mile roundtrip hike to yet another glacial lake.

The hike was so-so, until I then willed myself into another endemic experience – with a little nudge from my traveling partner.  I plunged buck naked into the frigid waters of Iceberg Lake.

Although the dip lasted only a few seconds, I got an underwater view of icebergs through hazy aqua-colored water. I also received such an adrenaline shot that all threat of falling asleep that afternoon was instantly removed.

Earlier in The Meander, I’d have taken that plunge without a push from a friend. Late in The Meander, I have to remind myself not to pass up once-in-a-lifetime opportunities like swimming with icebergs beneath a glacier that’ll disappear before I reach retirement age.

I have three parks left. Tomorrow, I begin a six-night stay in Yellowstone and Grand Teton. Then, in my final week on the road, I get three nights in Zion.

It’s up to me to keep my eyes fresh and my heart open. It’s up to me to seek – or create – my endemic park experiences.Iceberg Lark swim