Road trips evoke a lot of positive emotions for me, as I’m sure they do for many of you readers. A solid few playlists, an array of snacks, the pavement beckoning through the windshield, and (most importantly) an outstanding co-pilot all help to transport me to one of my happiest happy places. All of this is undeniably true in my heart of hearts…and yet, this behemoth of a road trip we were about to undertake had me more than a little nervous. Some background…
One of Erin’s best friends from college was getting married on Labor Day weekend, and the wedding was going to be in Redding, California, where she and her fiancé lived. Sounds amazing, right? California wedding, end of summer, wine flowing: that’s our kind of party! So, about four or five months out, we started our planning. Redding is not a huge town, and has a smaller, municipal airport. We were departing from Nashville, so our options were to fly into a larger airport and drive into Redding, or to try to find a regional, connecting flight to Redding, and regardless, we’d have to rent a car for the weekend. Neither option was efficient in terms of time or cost, but we knew in the end that we were going to have a blast. And then I started doing something crazy (and I mean crazy): I started looking up driving routes from Nashville to Redding. When I saw all the unbelievable attractions we’d be passing along the way, I had to bring it up to Erin…
And she said yes! I could hardly believe it. Not that she isn’t adventurous – this girl had trudged all over Europe with me the year prior. But this was different; this was 50+ hours in a car, sleeping in a different bed every night, and myriad chances to get lost along the way. However, as she constantly does, Erin surprised me once more. I don’t know which of us was insane enough to bring it up, but she was genuinely enthusiastic about the idea of camping along the way; keep in mind, we didn’t even own a tent at this point! Nevertheless, we had our next adventure, and we were both all-in.
All of a sudden, we had some major preparation to do. We slowly acquired all the necessary camping equipment, an investment that has paid itself off at least two or three times by now. We spent many hours on Google Maps planning our there-and-back routes (no spoilers), and made one of our favorite travel purchases ever, the National Parks Passport (okay, small spoiler). Next, it was time to practice; we weren’t about to be 1,000 miles from home and try camping together for the first time, and trust me, you shouldn’t either. It is important to experiment with things like how long it takes to assemble the tent, how you’re going to cook your food, and tasks you do and do not need daylight to accomplish. Thankfully, we have great friends in Nashville who camp all the time, so we asked them what any friend would ask of another, “Can we camp in your backyard?” They had many laughs at our expense, but happily agreed and even said they’d make us breakfast (did I mention great friends?).
Faster than you could say, "unprepared," the wedding was a week and a half away. We were not ready, but we were as ready as we were gonna be. I started the game of Tetris that is packing the car for a camping road trip, which was further complicated by the formal wear we had to keep clean and wrinkle-free for the wedding. I am no good at Tetris, but packing the car is one of my random talents. Speaking of the rental car, when Erin went to go pick up our compact sedan, it seems she got to talking to the salesperson about our trip. However, the salesperson must have assumed Erin was traveling solo, and took pity on her for the challenges she was going to be facing, because when she got home, she pulled up in a Jeep Renegade SUV and received no extra charge…I guess Erin plays a good damsel in distress if such a situation should arise in the future.
One of my best friends lives in Columbia, Missouri, about a seven-hour drive from Nashville. He let us crash on the first night to give us a head start on our trip and save us one night of camping. Columbia isn’t a tourist destination by any means, but we’ll go anywhere if it means we get to have $2 burgers and beers with a good friend! Early the next morning, we set off on I-70 West out of Columbia before the sun even threatened the horizon. We had divvied up our trip into alternating days of many stops and covering a lot of ground. This was one of the long days, so we knew we needed a fast and early start.
The rising sun at our backs lit up the Kansas City skyline as we hung a right, heading north for Nebraska. Even though we were making solid time as we passed through Omaha, and I was starting to get in the zone, it was time for the classic highway pit-stop that, in my family, comes pretty close to road-trip religion: Cracker Barrel Old Country Store. Now, I don’t recommend you take 12-hour days in the car lightly, but if you choose to take on such an endeavor, it is my well-studied opinion that your ideal fuel should consist of homemade biscuits, sawmill gravy, a hearty helping of eggs and delicious coffee. As always, Cracker Barrel had us set up for success for the miles ahead of us the rest of the day.
Onward to South Dakota we sped, where it seemed we left civilization behind as we entered the Great Plains. Some may refer to these as fly-over states; others might catch up on some reading or some Z’s on this leg of the drive. I, on the other hand, was loving every minute of it. Often, as a thought experiment, I will try to picture what the country looked like during the time period when Native Americans were the only people here; well, in this neck of the woods, I didn’t have to try too hard since most everything was virtually untouched.
Before we could really even get tired, our day’s trek was all-but complete as we took the exit for our destination: Badlands National Park! We purchased an Annual Pass from the attendant at the entrance. This pass is good for a year, and it granted us access to all of the National Parks in the country. For this trip, it was a no-brainer, because it was much cheaper than the combined entry fees of all the parks we’d be visiting. However, many parks nationwide don’t charge an entry fee, so make sure to research on nps.gov to find the most cost-effective option for you.
We drove through the gates and, aside from a few rock spires in the distance, there didn’t seem to be much to see there…boy were we about to be blown away. As we approached the first parking area, we craned forward with a collective, “Wooooah!” The rolling plains abruptly and dramatically fell away to an expanse of jagged, stunning rock formations below us. Parking the car, we scampered to the boardwalks set up across a few of the formations; we might as well have just walked from the surface of Earth onto a different, much rockier planet. Without a doubt, we would have spent the day in the car for this view ten times out of ten.
As difficult it was to pry our eyes from this spectacular view, this was a large park, and we still had to stop by the Visitor’s Center and make it to our campground before dark. The Visitor’s Center was an important stop because we came equipped with our National Parks Passport, and the Visitor’s Center is where we could ink our first stamp: “Badlands National Park 08/28/17.” Along the main road that winds through the park, there are pull-off spots around every bend where you can hop out, take pictures and explore. If you follow in our footsteps, you may even have to stop to let a few bison clear the way.
After a slow drive through the park with many pauses, we finally reached our campground. This campground is primitive, secluded, and first-come first-serve with no cost to stay. We love it so much, and it is such a too-good-to-be-true deal that I am very afraid of it becoming over-popular, and as a result, more expensive and crowded. However, I love my readers too, and part of traveling is sharing the treasures of the world with as many people as you can. So, if you’re at Badlands National Park, you must stay at Sage Creek Campground. Yes, it is difficult to reach, and yes, there are few amenities besides restrooms, but you will be rewarded with exactly the kind of beauty that National Parks were created to capture. As long as you are okay with sharing the grounds with bison, prairie dogs and a few fellow campers, you will be treated to a dizzingly massive sky full of stars.
Ladies and gentlemen…Erin and I survived our first night of real-life camping. After venturing more than 1,200 miles from home to come experience this gorgeous countryside, and after setting up camp in near-total darkness, we were being rewarded that morning with a cloudless sky and mild, late-summer temps. It was hard to believe we were just getting started on our cross-country journey. As we savored our coffee, eggs and bacon, it felt amazing to know that our route that day would only be about one-third of the length of yesterday’s drive. Consequently, this would be a day chock-full of pit stops and sightseeing, a welcome change for our aching muscles after the inactivity of the long car ride. Looking back, I think if we realized that morning just how…eventful…our day would turn out to be, we might have just decided to stay put there in the peaceful South Dakota prairie.
Our first stop was so close, we temporarily forgot this was a road trip. After passing the yet-to-be-finished Crazy Horse Memorial, we headed for the hills – the Black Hills, that is – until we wound our way onto the grounds for Mount Rushmore National Memorial. Although the park is fairly small and, I’m assuming, generally crowded like it was that morning, it is still, undoubtedly worth the minor chaos in order to see this iconic view up close with your own two eyeballs. I think, as a whole, we Americans tend to take for granted this work of art: we think of it as a sculpture a few crazy guys carved into existence just to say they could (and to flex our gigantic American muscles to the rest of the world). In reality, even though the men’s sanity should certainly be questioned, they took on this project in the early stages of the Great Depression, and completed it amidst the eve of the Second World War. Mount Rushmore became an undying symbol (quite literally: it will erode unfathomably slowly) of the hardships we have faced before as a nation, and the figures that led us through those trials. How fitting, as well, that it was created on the canvas of one of our country’s countless examples of natural beauty, what I consider to be our nation’s most abundant resource.
Feeling inspired and patriotic, I was pumped to see more of this awe-inspiring land. So, we picked up Highway 16 where we left off and headed westward. To be honest, I was feeling borderline giddy with how smoothly the trip was going so far. Sure, we had run out of daylight while we were getting camp set up in the Badlands, but we had been gifted perfect weather and our timeline was matching up almost seamlessly with how we’d planned it…turns out, I should have been my normal, skeptical self instead.
With our streak of sunny weather still going strong, it was precisely the kind of day you’d want for roller-coastering along a mountain highway. The heavily forested Black Hills gave way to the desolate beauty of Wyoming’s brush-covered mountain landscapes. Here, in this picturesque emptiness, is where our luck began to run dry.
As we coasted into Buffalo, Wyoming, a wall of mountains rose up out of the foothills to greet us. There were two passes through these Bighorn Mountains, and although we knew the scenery would be fantastic regardless, we opted for the Cloud Peak Skyway Scenic Byway. In terms of views, it certainly lived up to its name, and there was no way we could’ve known how the choice we just made would affect us for the rest of the trip…It felt as if we did nothing but wind upward for at least a half hour, and I wondered silently how much longer it would be before we crested the mountain pass and began our descent. The truth was, the peak was not far away, but before we could reach the top, our trusty Jeep Renegade completely stalled! I promptly pulled over, a knot immediately forming in my stomach. This is the kind of thing that normal, cynical Connor would have been expecting; however, when the car started right back up after putting it in park and turning it off, even then, I relaxed just a bit. “Just a small malfunction with all the climbing,” I said to Erin, but mostly as self-reassurance, “that’s all.”
After collecting myself and making sure Erin felt alright to keep going, I clicked off the hazard lights and eased back onto the highway. A little hiccup on a long journey, right? Wrong! As soon as I got up to around 50 MPH, the car stalled again. Now, we were panicking…I tried this a couple more times with identical results. Keep in mind, we’re on a pretty steep incline, with little shoulder to speak of, cars climbing past us, and absolutely zero cell service. Even though I was really starting to sweat now, I shut off the car to give the engine a break while Erin and I figured out what to do next. One thing that I like to take away from this stressful episode: in situations like these, although it will seem ludicrous, take pictures (not of your significant other)! I promise it will give you something to laugh at later, and in this case, we were almost 10,000 feet in the air. There was beauty all around us that unfortunately our mind’s eye did not capture. Oh and if you were wondering before why there is a big red X in the middle of the route on our travel map….now you know.
Erin and I mulled over our options, and we knew two things for a fact. One, we knew we had to at least make it to the next town by nightfall. It was called Ten Sleep and it was 25 to 30 miles down the other side of the mountains. Secondly, we knew if we could just get to the highest point of the pass, our friend gravity would most likely take us the rest of the way down. And so, once again, I fired up the Jeep and merged onto the freeway. Our strategy was simply to keep the hazards on and creep along at around 35-40 MPH until we reached the crest of the pass. This kept the car from stalling, and we coasted down to Ten Sleep, but our stress levels were not any lower. We now had to decipher what was wrong with the car, and how we were going to make it to California and then back to Nashville. So much for our stress-free day of casual driving.
Thankfully, we finally had service again. Erin got Enterprise on the phone while I called my best friend who is my go-to guy for car questions. Well, lucky us, he couldn’t quite tell what the problem was over the phone and, to add insult to injury, the closest Enterprise was in a different state. At a tiny gas station in Ten Sleep, Wyoming, we decided to keep calm and carry on. Already, we were halfway to California with three more days to get there, so we figured, even if we just meandered along we would have plenty of time to reach our destination, albeit at a detriment to our sightseeing. Besides, if we continued to have car troubles, we would eventually make it to a major city where we would come across an Enterprise or a mechanic. So, westward we continued, even if it was a click or two slower.
I have to admit, even though we had just experienced a major bump in the road, it was difficult not to forget about all our worries while being surrounded by such natural beauty. Believe it or not, the car did not stall again the rest of the trip; sure, I never got above 65 MPH for fear of a permanent mechanical breakdown, but a potentially trip-sabotaging disaster became nothing more than a half-day’s delay in the long run. As for that specific night, though, we had a new issue: sunset was imminent as we descended into lovely Cody, Wyoming, and we had quite a ways to go before we reached our campground for the evening in Yellowstone National Park. As stunning as the winding riverside drive through the Shoshone River Valley proved to be, dusk was transitioning to darkness as we entered the park. Missing one of the most scenic drives through Yellowstone due to darkness may have been the greatest disappointment of the trip.
The icing on the cake? It was so late, and we were stressed to the point of exhaustion, so much so that I quickly cooked up some hot dogs in the dark, helped make a sleeping nook for Erin in the cargo area of the Jeep, and I curled up in the passenger seat up front. Needless to say, we were feeling rather bleak about the rest of our road trip, but we took solace in the fact that we were safe and sound in Yellowstone National Park.
Rising from our slumber, our spirits were promptly lifted by the morning sunshine filtering through the pines above. In full light, we were able to appreciate just how cozy our corner of the campground was. Up here in the mountains, the nights and mornings were downright chilly, but once we had steaming coffee paired with bacon and eggs in warm tortillas, we were neck-deep in a more-or-less ideal morning. We relaxed and enjoyed our campsite a little, since we weren’t afforded the opportunity the night before.
It was important to remind ourselves after the struggles of yesterday: we were in Yellowstone! According to the itinerary, the day ahead was another short-driving, sightseeing day, so we could put the car troubles out of our minds for the time being and just enjoy the bounties of nature nearby. At the top of our list, of course, was Old Faithful. However, as the name suggests, the geyser has a very strict schedule, so we postponed our visit momentarily to make the short drive to the Grand Prismatic Spring. Similar hot springs in a nearby geyser basin are called Paint Pots, and it’s easy to see how these colorful names came about. If I didn’t take the photos myself, I would think they were edited: that illustrates just how vibrant these natural hues are in real life.
As entranced as we were with the steaming rainbow hot springs, Old Faithful waits for no one, so we hopped back in the car to make sure we got a prime seat. Now, I confess that I was never that geared up to see Old Faithful. It is, I would think to myself, just a fountain…a big fountain shooting water that will burn you, with lots of people in a circle around it. In fact, I would further justify in my thoughts that, Erin and I had seen many impressive fountains together, including a couple in Rome that can be considered nothing other than aquatic works of art. Nevertheless, this geezer of a geyser, for better or worse, is the face of Yellowstone National Park, and I conceded that it would be negligent of us as Americans to leave without witnessing this natural attraction. As you may have already guessed, for neither the first nor the last time, my preconceptions were thankfully proven to be foolish.
Yes, there are crowds of people swarming the safe radius of this small bubbling spring. No, there is nothing to look at – well, the surrounding countryside ain’t too shabby – while you wait in anticipation for any signs of geothermal life. All that being true, when Old Faithful did finally reach full strength, spewing many stories into the sky, I came to a realization: this natural phenomenon happened within five minutes of when the park said it would, with no one but Mother Nature manning the controls, and it was visually impressive as well. It’s an interesting illustration of the boundary between humans and nature, and also of the planet’s majesty. Sure, humans add a certain beauty to the world, but I think the world does just fine manufacturing beauty on its own.
Since it was still well before noon, we had nothing left on the agenda aside from pine forests, mountaintops, sunshine, and the John D. Rockefeller, Jr. Memorial Parkway. This short road with a long name acts as the main artery for navigating Yellowstone and also the primary connection to nearby Grand Teton National Park. “Scenic” doesn’t quite do this drive justice; it began in Yellowstone with the lake to our east, peeking through the tall pines as we drove high above. We then slowly started to descend into the adjacent valley, with every cresting of a small hill giving us panoramic views below. Finally, we emerged from the forests as the terrain flattened into prairie. Of course, there were still mountains in the distance bracketing this vast valley, but it was certainly wide open spaces compared to where we had just left…that is, until we glanced to the west and were faced the massive towers of rock that are the Grand Tetons. Even with dark storm clouds blowing in rapidly, we had to pull off the road and capture the stark contrast of landscapes in this unique place. Following the narrowing valley, we were funneled into the postcard town of Jackson. It was easy to see why people loved it here, and equally easy to see why it had the nickname Jackson Hole – with peaks rising high on three sides, it definitely gave us a fell-in-a-pit type of feeling…but in a safe and cozy way.
Sadly, we couldn’t do much exploring in Jackson due to the climb into Idaho waiting just ahead. As you can imagine, ascending from a place nicknamed “hole,” the use of “climb” here is no exaggeration. Both of us were quite worried how the Renegade would hold up on these steep grades, but we flipped on the hazard lights once more, took it nice and slow, and ended up safe and sound on the other side. Thankfully, the storm clouds missed us for the most part, and driving through Idaho was pleasantly surprising. As expected, there was plenty of farmland, but the crop-laden hills sprouted austere mountains seemingly from nowhere. Here, I was finally experiencing the words I had blindly recited as a child in Southern Illinois: amber waves of grain and purple mountain’s majesty.
Our destination that evening was Lake Walcott State Park in Idaho. Although the mountains had become fewer and farther between in this rural part of the state, this park was quaint and framed by marshland full of critters. Our site was near the water, and therefore, a bit buggy, but it was nothing our citronella candle couldn’t remedy. A more pressing matter: we had been chased by rain all afternoon, and now it seemed it was finally going to catch us. Haphazardly, we assembled the tent and rain fly and quickly cooked up dinner on the one-burner so we could eat (on the “front porch” of the tent, as we like to call it) just as the first drops began to fall. For a good portion of the night, it rained and rained hard; we were confined to the tent for the evening, which gave us a chance to reflect on the trip so far, do some light reading and get to sleep early in preparation for the long day of driving that would begin the next morning.
As Idaho became Nevada over the course of the morning, the landscape, though beautiful in its own way, became more and more barren. The greens and golds of agriculture gave way to dusty browns, and the mountain slopes were no longer littered with tree cover. As the early afternoon sun started to filter through the windshield and heat the driver’s seat, coffee and daydreams about that day’s destination were the only things keeping my eyes open. When the city of Reno materialized mirage-like on the horizon, I knew the boredom was drawing to a close.
Our destination, of course, was gorgeous Lake Tahoe! What a fantastic reward for our day in the desert doldrums. Our campsite was nestled amongst a few others, sitting about 100 paces or so from the water’s edge in D.L. Bliss State Park. Even though the sites were fairly close together, it still felt spacious with the tall trees and large plots. It was almost incomprehensible: after five days of driving, we were actually, truly standing in California. I don’t quite remember the specifics, but there’s no way we didn’t celebrate with an adult beverage or two next to the fire on that flawless, starry evening.
The next morning was no less perfect, and we got out of our sleeping bags feeling 100 pounds lighter. Why? Because our final destination was a mere four hours away and we had all day to explore Lake Tahoe, and that’s exactly what we did. We scheduled a tandem kayak in Emerald Bay and visited a few different overlooks while we waited for our appointment. If I was forced to pick my favorite single-hour segment out of all our travels, this would have to be in contention. We were blessed with unbelievable weather, experiencing some of the most awe-inspiring views I’ve ever come across, and then we had the opportunity to take it all in from the surface of the clear blue water.
At the conclusion of our lap around Emerald Bay, the day was still very young, so we jumped in the car and backtracked to Tahoe City to do some touristing. In the second or third souvenir shop, I suddenly became quite “hangry,” which led me to wonder if Erin was only pretending to row the kayak earlier…she still had plenty of energy for shopping. For everyone’s sanity, we fast-walked over to the Fat Cat Bar and Grill next door and selected a patio table. A couple diet cokes and some grub had me feeling much more Zen, and we were ready to complete the last, short leg of the drive to Redding.
In my incredibly brief experience, California is a fascinating place. There are a multitude of climates. There is farmland, there are mountains, there are deserts and there are beaches. In addition to all this variety, we had just gone from 75-degree Lake Tahoe perfection to 110-degree smoke-filled Redding; a heat wave and forest fires had been devastating the area in recent weeks and persisted during our visit. However, as we pulled into Redding, the sun began to set below the trees and the temperature mercifully dropped. Not only would our hotel feel like a luxurious palace compared to our tent, but there was even a pizza place next door! We had made it two-thirds of the way across the country, and life was good.
Thankfully, we had all day Saturday before the rehearsal dinner to sleep in and catch our breath. Having considered ourselves lucky after breaking down on the side of a mountain, we opted to venture to the local Enterprise to see if we could swap cars. The folks there were happy to let us switch…in the category of car that we purchased, which was compact sedan. Alas, our days of SUV luxury were over, however there did end up being plenty of space in this Nissan Sentra once the backseats were lowered. After unpacking one car and repacking the other, we bid a sad farewell to our Jeep. We had worked it to the bone, and even though it struggled at times, it delivered us safely to the other side of the country.
The next day was Wedding Day! We had many hours to kill before the ceremony, so decided to spend a few of them at nearby Whiskeytown National Recreation Area. Despite the smoky air from the ever-burning forest fires, this was a stunning area to spend an afternoon. The main attraction is Whiskeytown Lake, shimmering blue and watched over by a circle of grand mountaintops, but we decided to find some hiking deeper in the hills. Once our heartrate was nice and elevated, we both noticed that, although we could see the smoggy haze tickling the mountain peaks, the air we were breathing felt ultra-pure. It was as if the trees above us knew they had to work overtime to filter the smoke from the air. Before long, our trail terminated at a rolling waterfall; we were delighted to cool our roasting feet (it was still hovering around 100 degrees) and enjoy the scenery for a bit. It was easy to see why so many people choose to live in California: to them this was a routine Sunday afternoon.
Finally, it was time to get cleaned up for a night of wine, dancing and merriment on the banks of the Sacramento River. This celebration was well worth the miles logged, and it was so lovely, we forgot all about the heat wave still in full effect.
After a week saturated with fun and adventures, it was almost impossible for us to fathom that we still had another week before we would be home. The after-effects of last night’s festivities were lingering uncomfortably as we begrudgingly repacked the car in the morning light. Our route that day was moderately long with quite a few stops, so we knew we needed some early momentum, but not before we fueled our bodies at Lumberjack’s: the place in Redding for a hearty traveler’s breakfast. After bingeing on coffee and breakfast goodies – my favorite meal of the day, by the way – we were fully equipped for that day’s checklist, which consisted of a quick & dirty Tour de California. Consequently, the rising sun was only just starting to disperse the trademark fog as we entered wine country a ways south of Redding.
Generally Erin is the best navigator, DJ and all-around front seat assistant, however, this Labor Day morning she was out of commission, and I couldn’t blame her one bit: a night of wine and cutting a rug can really take a toll on you. Without anything to really look at but farmland – we were in Napa and Sonoma, but not in the areas where grapes are grown – I savored the silence as an opportunity to reflect on what we had accomplished in the past week. In a few short hours, we were going to lay eyes on the majestic Pacific Ocean (a first for me), when it was only a few short days ago that we were making all the preparations in landlocked central Tennessee. Wary of the fact that we were still some 2,000 miles from home, I still couldn’t help but beam with a strong sense of pride in our courage and teamwork.
As marshy flood plains became rolling hills, I knew we’d soon be approaching Stop #1: the Golden Gate Bridge! I nudged Erin awake – I knew she wouldn’t want to miss this – and soon, we were both keeping our eyes peeled at the crest of every hill in anticipation of the first chance to catch a glimpse. Honestly, we thought maybe we had taken a wrong exit somewhere until finally, there it was! I have previously described at length the unequivocally surreal nature of seeing something (artwork, landmarks, structures, etc.,) in person that you have seen through someone’s lens countless times before; this icon of engineering certainly sent me into that familiar state of disbelief.
Since it was a holiday, parking was unbelievably scarce, so we were forced to park at the bottom of the hill and hike up to the viewpoint. This definitely got our blood pumping, and we had to collect ourselves before we could move on and enjoy the view…It was exactly how I’d imagined it. The bay rippled, seemingly gently from way up here, and the fog all-but obscured Alcatraz Island and the San Francisco skyline. This dramatic scene acted as the backdrop to the massive bridge rising up to greet us. In spite of the whipping wind threatening to remove our hats, we were able to snap some great photos. Before descending, we moseyed around the viewing area, a repurposed military fort which felt like it could still be used if necessary. Menacing clouds were beginning to approach, so we scampered down the hillside, maneuvered the chaotic parking lot and crossed that magnificently adorned stretch of highway over the water. I don’t know how there aren’t more wrecks – it is impossible to keep your eyes on the road.
Among the lowlights of the trip was crawling through Bay Area traffic in the midst of a steady drizzle. We did have a blast, however, admiring the adorable little, colorful houses and ballparking what outrageous amount of money it would cost to live in one. Our original plan was to take Highway 1 all the way down the coast, but summer-long landslides rendered that an impossibility. Hence, we charted our course for the Monterrey Peninsula and what we hoped would be bluer skies. Our pace continued to be sluggish due to rain and holiday traffic, and we were just fine with that, because sluggish is how we felt. A day of meandering through seaside towns was precisely what the doctor ordered for a couple weary travelers. Before long, we turned into Point Lobos State Natural Reserve. Although we had been gawking at it all day, this was our first face-to-face, panoramic view of the glittering Pacific. It was also the pivotal point in the trip where we start heading eastward again, so we lingered as long as we could, simply to breathe the ocean air and enjoy the view.
Time stops for no man, as they say, so we had to hop back on the road and make our way to that night’s resting place, Pinnacles National Park. Tucked away in the mountains, we were intrigued by Pinnacles because it isn’t on the short list of California’s most highly-acclaimed National Parks; in our experience, places like these usually turn into hidden gems. Unfortunately, our exploration would have to wait until morning since we wouldn’t reach our site until around sunset. What would have surely been an incredible, golden-hour mountain drive took a turn for the worse when our two-lane highway suddenly transitioned to a narrow, gravel mountain pass with many switchbacks. Thankfully, we encountered few other cars, but it was still a good half-hour of white-knuckle driving before we reached another paved road. After finding our site and erecting the tent just in time for twilight, it was the first time all trip that I wished we had stopped to pick up some alcohol before arriving.
Believe it or not, the day’s drama was not over. Suffice it to say, you come across some eccentric characters at campgrounds; many are friendly in spite of their quirks, yet others compel you to keep your distance. Our closest neighbor was at the campsite two down from ours. When we arrived, he neither said hello nor even looked our way, which was a bit abnormal for a campground, but not strange by any means. There was, however, what appeared to be a large pile of trash on this man’s picnic table, including an assortment of empty 2-liter bottles. We honestly didn’t think much of this man as we enjoyed our campfire and our dinner – and a couple raccoon visitors – but nevertheless, his odd behavior, at least, was on our radar. In fact, we forgot he was there at all until we realized, just before going to bed, that he had not moved a muscle in his seat at the picnic table for at least an hour, maybe two…
Erin was truly spooked as we went lights-out, but I assured her he was probably out here in search of some peace and quiet, nothing more. However, throughout the night, maybe every 20 minutes or so, we would hear our neighbor’s tent zipping open and shut, loud enough to where one of us would stir from our sleep. This might have been nothing unusual if he hadn’t just sat motionless for an extended period of time. Even so, it was more of an annoyance than anything, but later in the night, we started to hear rustlings from that direction and in the general vicinity of our campsite! I was able to convince myself that it was the work of our raccoon friends (which it was, in all likelihood) and fall back asleep. Erin, however, had reached her limit and decided it was time to go. So, in the total darkness of early morning, we packed up everything and hightailed it towards civilization. I’ll be honest…I was glad to be out of there. Even though we were probably in no danger at all, my senses were on high alert that night in the tent, just like Erin’s. After much to-do – about most likely nothing – we were back on the road.
The sun was up after a couple hours, and when it rose, it revealed we were about to bid farewell to the familiar mountains and farmland in exchange for the vast Mojave Desert. Now, we knew this was coming, and we were well-stocked with coffee and snacks. We also knew better than to take lightly the signs warning that there would be no gasoline or services for an extended number of miles. Being stranded in the desert was not an adventure we wanted to experience on this trip. Instead, we filled the tank, buckled in and hunkered down for a long, yet breathtaking drive through the desert to Arizona on the other side. I bet you might be able to guess where our next destination was…
After traversing the Mojave in Southern California, and continuing on through arid, rocky Arizona, we finally pulled off the highway outside Flagstaff and made our approach to…the Grand Canyon! As you can imagine, this was one of our most-anticipated stops of the trip. That being said, we would have to wait another 12 hours or so till morning, and we pulled into our campsite at Ten X Campground in the Kaibab National Forest. What an outstanding campground this was; the plots were spread far apart, there were hiking trails, and it truly made us feel as if we were in the middle of the forest. The bright side of our debacle at Pinnacles? We were now all settled at our campsite with nowhere to be and nothing to do but relax after a long day of driving.
If you’re ever exploring this area and you hear what sounds like a lady shrieking, that is actually an elk call. It scared the daylights out of us the first time we heard it, and it even woke us up a few times, but we must have been super sleepy, because we still felt well-rested when day broke. It didn’t take much motivation for us to get our tent packed up, because we had been looking forward to this morning since before we had even left Nashville: breakfast on the rim of the Grand Canyon in the early light of morning. Best bacon & eggs I’ve ever had, I can tell you that.
The rest of the morning, we leisurely made our way along the South Rim. It’s one of those views that never gets old no matter how long you look at it – or in my case, no matter how many pictures you take. Describing what it’s like to be face-to-face with one of the world’s wonders is impossible, so I’ll let the pictures do the talking here. All I’ll say is, you must experience it at least once. It is that unique and that unbelievable.
We weren’t done, though! The Flagstaff area has four or five different attractions in the National Parks system. Wupatki National Monument is a time portal constructed of red earth. Native American groups populated this entire area, and seeing a well-preserved example of one of their villages humbled me in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time. In the distance, other villages were partially unearthed, and I could imagine a network of towns dotting the ancient plain. Though we wanted to venture out to one of these satellite pueblos, rain clouds overhead prompted us to retreat to the car.
Our next stop actually was the main reason the peoples from long ago had built the pueblo we just explored. A few miles away, Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument housed a volcano that erupted sometime around the year 1100. The people displaced by the eruption moved north, where they realized the ashy soil was, in fact, great for growing crops. Hence, people flocked to the area and built the pueblos that still exist today. Black remnants of lava flows melted down the slopes of the volcano, giving it an eerie and menacing appearance. At this point, it was difficult not to reflect on everything we had seen that day. We encountered two overwhelming forces of nature: the slow, eroding force of the Colorado River making the Grand Canyon ever-so-slightly deeper every year, and the potential, sudden, destructive force of the looming volcano. And then we saw the evidence of how adaptive and resilient human beings can become in the wake of these powerful forces. I felt quite small on this day, but also impressed with those that have come before me; we were also feeling excited – we had just doubled our number of passport stamps en route to an unforgettable morning and afternoon! (background information courtesy of nps.gov)
Everything around us began to carry a golden glow as afternoon threatened to give way to evening. We realized, after our day of adventuring, that our plans were pretty much out the window, and we would have to improvise. The original plan was to stay the night at a State Park in New Mexico. Problem was, they didn’t allow reservations and there was at least one rocky path we would have to navigate in our little Nissan. Now, add on the fact that we were a few hours behind schedule, and it was time for a new plan. We both knew what the other was thinking, we were just scared to say it, but finally…we agreed we would drive until neither of us could keep our eyes open, and then stop for a nap at a rest area or truck stop. We knew this was crazy and irresponsible, but we needed to cover some major ground in order to not fall behind a day.
In preparation, we backtracked to Flagstaff in order to load up on food, gas and coffee. Side note – we got some delicious espresso and ice cream when we returned to Flagstaff. I can’t remember the name of the place, nor can I find the name on Google, but I know it is the coffee stand in the parking lot of the Del Taco on Highway 89. It sounds random and sketchy, but they make delicious coffee. Anyway, we were back on the Interstate in no time, and we did our best to enjoy the sunset landscapes without thinking about the long night ahead of us. When Arizona became New Mexico, the sun had not yet fallen below the mountaintops, and we began to encounter a multitude of signs for Native American-owned gift shops with turquoise trinkets. I think we both regret not poking our heads in at least one of these stores, but we were focused on the mission and we knew we had many more miles to cover. Besides, this surely will not be our last visit to this part of the country.
Despite the protests from our growling stomachs, we waited to eat until we cruised into Albuquerque, because we knew that was our best bet for a delicious plate of tacos (and we were right). I think we both finished in under five minutes, proving once and for all that you don’t have to chew to enjoy your food. Erin took over for a bit so I could dream about more tacos, but she didn’t last too long. Looking at the map when I woke up, I calculated I could reasonably make it close to Amarillo, where we were planning to stop the next day. So, even though I was sleep-deprived and there was almost nothing to look at on the barren roadway, we managed to make it in one piece to a truck stop a little bit outside the city…I think I could’ve slept standing up at that point and was thankful for the rest.
IHOP was the perfect elixir for our tired bones in the morning, and we felt like we were on the home stretch, even though we had a couple days left to go. Palo Duro Canyon State Park is what drew us to Amarillo, and we were blessed with a mild, sunny morning. The canyon was framed by outcroppings of red rock, and we relished the opportunity to enjoy a hike at a relaxing pace. Due to our hard work the night before, we only had to travel a few hours to our next campsite; needless to say, this was about as peaceful and stress-free a morning as we had enjoyed since we left Lake Tahoe.
We bid adieu to the red rocks of Palo Duro Canyon and meandered our way to our final stop before home: Foss State Park in Oklahoma. Admittedly, our hopes were not high, as this appeared to be nothing more than a grassy area next to a reservoir in the middle of nowhere; nonetheless, it left us with a more manageable last leg than if we had stayed in Amarillo, so we couldn’t complain. Although, generally speaking, the campground was what we expected, it was well-kept, spacious and not crowded in the slightest. Pair this with the fact that we arrived early and had perfect weather, and Foss State Park became one of our most enjoyable nights of the trip! Out here on the Oklahoma prairie, miles from anywhere with a low fire smoldering, the sky on this particularly clear night rivaled the one in the Badlands in terms of the astounding quantity of stars. As we closed our eyes that night, we were wholeheartedly satisfied with our trip, and most of all, we were ready to sleep in our own bed and to see our doggie!
As for those final 12 hours or so in the car, there honestly isn’t much to write about. We reminisced about all the memories we had just created; one of us napped; and we waved to Omaha, Little Rock and Memphis as we passed through. On the other side of Memphis, we could sniff the end of our journey, and I put the pedal to the metal to get us home pronto. What a trip! When it takes a half hour just to read about it, and many weeks to write about it, that’s how I know it was life-changing. Thanks America for always being beautiful and never ceasing to amaze! Don’t worry, we’ll be on the road again soon enough.
If you haven't read Lesson One yet, it gives you a good background on my vision for Graduate School...go check it out! We left Nashville on August 27, 2017 and finally made it home late in the evening on September 8. If you like the pictures here, there are so many more in the gallery for our 2017 cross-country roadtrip. Any questions about specific locations mentioned or pictured, or about our journey in general? Visit Office Hours! My door is always open.
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