Staying just one night

Driving across Southern Utah was an incredible experience. From Grand Canyon, I came through Red Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Grand Staircase (Escalante), Dixie National Forest, Arches National Park, Colorado National Monument, Rocky National Park, and of course all the land in between. Google image search for any of those names to get a feeling for what it's been like: my photos are probably rubbish, and won't get developed or scanned for months anyway.

Grand Canyon's chief virtue is its size, almost to the exclusion of anything else. I managed to find a rock to perch on, and read my book, occasionally looking up and going, "Wow, that sure is a long way away." The other Canyons are more comprehensible, and therefore to some degree more attractive. I did a few hours' hiking in Arches which is just like walking in a petrified shipyard -- or spaceshipyard. These enormous red rocks, lined up in rows and rows.

At a certain height, pines are replaced and joined by "aspens", a gorgeous tree with delicate silver-white branches, and translucent leaves which are yellow-to-red now, in their fall colouring. With the sun shining through them, and the leaves trembling in the wind, almost every turn in the road presents new photogenia. I got a great view of the full moon rising above mountains, while the last of the evening sun lit them up fiery red. I couldn't stop to photograph it, but I didn't need to.

In the Rockies I reached 11,000 feet at a pass at the Continental Divide, as it's called, and it was snowy all around! From there I descended into Boulder, where I've spent a couple of days hanging out because all the continuous onward movement had started to become unsettling. It is a wonderful town to have stopped in, too -- its main features are lots of trees (in autumn colour), a pedestrianised Main Street chock full of independant coffee places and used book stores, and a huge and gorgeous campus (the University of Colorado) and its attendant 30,000 students. A girl posting posters told me that it has the highest concentration of PhDs of any town in the US, and that it has 300 days of sunshine a year. An odd man from Georgia reading David Icke in Moab Hostel had commented on the beauty of Boulder's girls: he was right. Last night, I went to see open mic poetry at a co-operatively run food store and cafe. And it has a great Public Library with free internet access! But today I leave, for Denver, and then to start the long lonely crossing of the Great Plains, leaving the South-West for the South-East.

Before I go though, I wanted to say something about this whole National Park deal. I picked up a book in here by Henry David Thoreau, about walking, wherein he made the distinction between Nature as primary actor, with Man hosted in it, as against Nature contained and managed merely as a pleasant diversion among Man's many available pleasant diversions. He was writing in the 1800s: he was a part of only the sixth party of white men to climb Mt Kerridge in Maine, and soon the whole of the Eastern seaboard was to be logged for arable farming. Now, whenever I visit these great beautiful wild places of America, I can never wholly shake the feeling of being package-touristed, with "marked trail" this, "entrance fee" that, and "visitor centre" the other. It's a shame: it spoils the trip. In an odd way I look forward to entering the wholly unremarked Great Plains region, where the beauty is hard to define, package up and name -- and for that reason goes generally unrecognized. Finally perhaps there I will be able to feel more like Man within Nature, than experiencing Nature as a construct of Man.

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NB: Dom, you may be interested to know that I went through Dolores, Colorado. Those who haven't read Lolita will be uninterested to hear this. On a side note, in Oregon I actually saw a town called "Loleta" in Humboldt County, which seemed a large coincidence.

sick

damn i caught some silly american cold. i thought i'd shook it then camped out in sequoia national forest and the temp dropped to like -10deg during the night. i woke up freezing cold and just jumped into the driver's seat and drove with the heating on max, until my feet had thawed out. so i don't feel sociable and i feel all sleepy and just snotty. grrr.

since SF its just been mostly a sort of inadvertant national parks tour -- yosemite, sequoias, death valley, zion, and grand canyon. i made a detour via grass valley to try and find ed buryn, the guy who wrote the inspirational "vagabonding in the USA" in 1975 or summat. it was pretty cool managing to meet up with him. however, horribly, his daughter had died in an auto accident only the month before. i just hoped that half an hour talking to me about travelling might help ease his pain. made me ratchet down my speed a notch too -- tho 60 in the burban feels like about the most it'll do anyway.

most amazing day must have been in lone pine, where i was stranded one day waiting for the truck to get fixed after it overheated in the desert (not my fault! the radiator was cracked!). i went into the chamber of commerce asking if there was anything to do in town for one day, seeing as i didnt have a vehicle (they just looked confused). when i came out this lady got into some crazy electric car, i go "wow what a cool ride" and she's like "want a lift?" so i followed her round her hilarious small-town organising day. linda snell USA.

most amazing night was last night. stayed in tecopa hostel in death valley. there's no clouds, and its absolutely silent, and the ex-hippie that built the hostel built a tower u can climb up and watch the stars, and talk for hours setting the world to rights with some random literature major grad from seattle on his own trip, the only other guest in the hostel (and human for hundreds of miles, it seemed!). saw some shooting stars and definite UFOs over nevada desert too...

right goin to bed. try and get rid of this stoopid cold.

town country town country

Entered the US to little fanfare, except for the payment of $6 for the pleasure of giving the federal government my fingerprints and a mugshot. Easier than I had expected. First hurdle overcome.

Three nights in a hotel while I acclimatised and recovered from jetlag, then three in the friendly if slightly chaotic Green Tortoise (above the needle exchange -- playing good block/ bad block to get to the mini mart for beers in the evenings), one in almost complete isolation on Vashon Island, a 10 minute ferry ride, across the Puget Sound, and then, after a slightly fraught but eventually victorious day used-car shopping, the beginning of a slow crawl down highway 101 and the west coast of washington, oregon, and northern california. Met too many crazy people to list, and nearly stacked the truck on many occasions from the sheer draw-jopping beauty of the coastline vistas. Even if things are slightly spoiled by the surfeit of seniors in RVs and official "vista point"s.

After six days driving, including 2 nights sleeping in the back of the truck (ouch, it actually gets pretty cold at night, even despite those walmart-purchased $4 fleece throws lining my three-season sleeping bag), I am now happy to be cooling my heels in San Fran -- altho I am already on my second hostel. There's about 7 in town, each with different qualities, and in different areas. Or perhaps I just can't get out of the habit of continual onward movement.

The map is indeed not the territory: I have found it almost impossible to estimate driving times from looking at the trusty rand mcnally (last year's issue (that's the '05 one, go figure) can be bought at a 60% discount from walmart, hoo-yah for corporate destruction of downtown shopping districts). An hour's hiking in the redwood forests of NorCal became 3 when I seriously underestimated the scale of the map, and I had to accept a lift from a couple of liberal seniors the last part. They were not impressed to find that despite my cute english accent I was destroying planet hourly with my 15mpg Suburban. That bothers me somewhat too. Not enough though.

Enough for now. San Fran rocks tho. Apart from all the homeless people, rudies, and crackheads. But hey, It's America Stupid.

Till the next hostel with free internet...