I left Granby and headed for Rocky Mountain National Park, which was only a half-hour away. It was cold and cloudy, and as I progressed up the winding scenic byway through the park, it got windier and windier and there were times of blowing snow and rain. Even with the uncooperative weather, many of the scenic overlook parking areas were crowded, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, since it was a weekend and Rocky Mountain is so close to Boulder and Denver. I was in a little bit of a funk that day, not feeling great, like a cold might have been coming on, so I didn’t feel up for a lot of hiking, especially in the cold and wind and at such elevations, but I did a couple of easy short hikes. Rocky Mountain is full of beautiful rugged mountain peaks, and at the upper elevations, it’s particularly striking to see how stark the mountains are above the timberline. There are some truly spectacular vistas, weather notwithstanding, although in some cases I caught only brief glimpses of how far the mountains stretched into the distance, as the clouds kept rolling through and blocking the views.

As the road descended into the eastern part of the park, the weather cleared a bit, and the scenery changed. Stands of aspens still clung to some of their yellow leaves, streams ran through meadows, and I saw lots of elk, some of them so close to the road that traffic was stopped and rangers were managing the crowds. Even though I was happy to see some remnants of fall color at the lower elevations, I bet it had been spectacular a couple of weeks earlier.

As I hiked the little loop around Sprague Lake to catch the last afternoon light, the clouds once again moved in and rain started to pour. The mountains disappeared behind the clouds, and I took that as a sign that it was time to go find dinner and a room for the night. Low temps were once again getting down into the twenties, so I wasn’t even going to bother looking for camping. I found a room at the friendly Silver Moon Inn in Estes Park, and arranged to spend the next two nights there. I was craving some ethnic food, so I walked through town to window shop and have a nice quiet dinner at Sushi Yama.

I left Salida and drove north on 285. I was back in the mountains! Snow-dusted peaks and clusters of aspens beckoned. Near the town of Nathrop, I turned off on an unpaved road to the west to investigate the ghost town of St. Elmo. It’s well-preserved but not too prettied up, and apparently it’s a pretty popular tourist destination in the summer, but I found it pleasantly quiet on this beautiful fall morning. Just a handful of other visitors milled around as I took pictures of the buildings and rusty old details. I thoroughly enjoyed it and ended up spending quite a bit of time there. One of the other visitors there told me about another good accessible ghost town further north towards Leadville, but I didn’t find it. I did, however, enjoy my brief visit to Leadville, a quirky, vibrant town with a rich mining history and some nice Victorian architecture as well.

From there, I continued north on Route 24, past a stretch of mountains named after Ivy League schools and more mining towns, including one very intriguing area that looked like a company town had just picked up and left the neat rows of houses that stretched across a mountainside. Unfortunately, gates blocked the road into the area and stern signs warned of all kinds of environmental hazards, so I got some pictures from a safe distance. I joined the interstate on I-70 near Vail, as it’s basically the only major road through the mountains in that area. It’s a pretty stretch of interstate, surrounded by mountains, but one heck of a climb for a little hybrid car pulling a trailer! After passing through the impressive Eisenhower-Johnson Tunnel, I took Route 40 north, hoping to get to the town of Granby before nightfall. Sure enough, I found my way to the Trail Riders Motel (another cool old-school motel, complete with a swell neon sign) since I was still in high elevation/low temperature territory. At this point, I was kind of missing sleeping in the camper, but I’m not crazy about waking up when it’s 24 degrees outside. I was also finding that many of the campgrounds with showers were closed for the season, and if it’s going to get that cold at night, I want a nice hot shower in the morning!

After checking in at the Trail Riders and catching a nice sunset and alpenglow over the distant mountains, I had a very good salad at a restaurant called Maverick’s, and I’d ordered a half-size appetizer of chips and guacamole, which still easily could have served 2-3 people. Fortunately, their claim to have “award-winning guacamole” seems to be well-founded, because I liked it so much, I took the leftovers with me for lunch the next day.

I had breakfast at the Hot Springs Inn in Ouray and started out on the road toward Black Canyon of the Gunnison. I took my time, enjoying the beautiful mountain scenery on the way, but soon the mountain scenery passed and I found myself driving through starker, more desert-like surroundings. At Black Canyon, I visited all of the viewpoints, taking the short hikes and enjoying the interesting geology. It’s an impressive gorge, to be sure, but for me not as photographically rewarding as the scenery I had found the day before. Still, it was definitely worth visiting, and it was a warm and sunny day, perfect for walking. It’s also not a terribly well-traveled park, so I enjoyed the quiet and solitude.

After leaving Black Canyon, I drove on to Salida, CO, where I stopped for the night. The nights were getting cold (below 30 degrees), so I decided to go for a hotel room again, and wound up in the Days Inn. I headed to the popular Amici’s for dinner, where I had a very good (and large) vegetarian lasagna that also provided me with lunch the following day.

While getting my free breakfast at the Region Inn, I ran into the nice young German couple who I had met the day before at Bisti, and they told me I missed some excitement. Apparently, after I left, an older man who was hiking in the area had a medical emergency and had to be transported to the hospital by medevac! I’m glad he was able to get help quickly, and I hope he’s okay now.

I left Farmington and drove north on Route 550 into Colorado. It was not easy to leave New Mexico, because I would dearly love to revisit Santa Fe, Taos, and the surrounding areas. But I was also eager to return to Colorado, because I’ve only been there very briefly, through the Great Sand Dunes and Mesa Verde. I was eager to see the Colorado mountains in their fall glory.

I was not disappointed. The highway took me through Durango and then north into the mountains, which were adorned with swaths of trees sporting hues of yellow, gold, and orange, punctuated by the contrast of white aspen trunks and dark evergreens. I passed horse farms and clear lakes, and there were a couple of places where I could capture the beautiful green of the Animas River. The skies were brilliant blue, and it was comfortably cool. It was just spectacular.

Eventually, the climbing road became steeper and turned into a series of switchbacks. Snow-covered peaks loomed from behind the nearer mountains, and patches of brilliant red rock began to appear in the mountainsides. The Million Dollar Highway is a stunning drive, especially in the fall. I took hours along the highway, stopping and taking lots of pictures of the mountains, the foliage, and the abandoned mining operations. I passed through the town of Silverton without making any real stops, but it looks like it would be fun to explore further. The day was passing quickly, and I knew I still had some miles ahead of me. The sun was setting a little earlier each day, and in the mountains the sky darkens even sooner.

With sundown nearly upon me, I arrived in the charming old mining town of Ouray and found a room at the Hot Springs Inn, which was a very friendly and comfortable place to stay (another good recommendation thanks to TripAdvisor.com!). Upon the recommendation of Rufus, who I had chatted with in Farmington, I had dinner at O’Brien’s Pub – the fish & chips were good! I then wandered around town a little and ended up buying myself a cute hat at High Country Leathers, a couple of books at the very welcoming Buckskin Booksellers, and treating myself to a “scrap cookie” at Mouse’s Chocolates. What is a scrap cookie, you ask? Well, for one, it’s delicious. Oh, and huge. But if you need to know more, they are cookies they bake from the leftovers of whatever kind of chocolate candies they’ve made that particular day. I really could not tell you what all was in my particular cookie, but whatever it was, it was better than good. I had intentions of only eating half that night and saving the rest for the next day, but I couldn’t resist. I polished it off, along with a cup of coffee from the Hot Springs Inn. A delicious end to a fantastic day!

If I were a truly adventurous and ultra-prepared photographer, I would have woken up at 4:00 AM in order to drive nearly an hour from Farmington to the Bisti wilderness area, hiked into the badlands, and found some remarkable vista from which to photograph as the sun rose.

Well, I’m adventurous and pretty well-prepared, but I’m not too keen on the idea of wandering into a wilderness area I’ve never seen before, with no designated hiking trails, to possibly wander until I was lost and die of thirst in the desert. So I waited until the sun was up to drive to the Bisti area. I would miss the early morning light so favorable for photography, but considering I was traveling alone in a wilderness area completely new to me, I was willing to make a compromise in favor of my safety.

I had read a lot about Bisti, including caveats about how remote and little-visited it is. So imagine my surprise after driving 45 minutes down a little-traveled highway, another 10 minutes along unpaved gravel roads, and turning to see about 20 vehicles parked at the entrance to the area. I laughed at myself for being a little nervous about the supposed remoteness of this place, but soon enough I realized that the crowd was not a typical occurrence there — it was actually a tour group. Apparently, on that particular week, a couple of paleontologists had set up a series of tours for people wanting to visit the area. I decided to take advantage of the situation by following them at a distance, just so I’d have an idea of where to go.

The Bisti wilderness is first and foremost just that — a wilderness. Like I said, there are no hiking trails. If you’re going there alone for the first time, it’s good to have some information about landmarks to help you find some of the many interesting sights. Granted, you could just wander and stumble upon them by chance, which can be fun too, but it can also be frustrating and exhausting.

So, keeping the tour group just barely in sight, soon enough I found myself in a wonderland of badlands, balanced rocks, hoodoos, and stone toadstools. Thanks to the group, I found the easy-to-miss area of low, cracked and patterned rocks sometimes called the Eggs. You have got to see these things to believe them. A short while later, I entered a section of badlands peppered with remnants of petrified logs — some bits were little more than splinters, but there were also occasional huge trunks, lying horizontally, embedded in the hills or resting on top of the sandstone.

By that point, I’d gotten my bearings pretty well and knew where I was in relation to the car, which was maybe three miles away, so I felt comfortable letting the tour group disappear from view as they turned back toward the parking lot. I continued exploring the badlands and rock formations, finding some that look almost like Henry Moore sculptures, and others made of pale sandstone capped with darker rocks. As I neared one rock formation, I saw movement on the ground and realized I had company: a rattlesnake! This was my first real-life encounter with a rattler, but I’m not really afraid of snakes, so he didn’t freak me out. On the contrary, I was fascinated. I took a lot of pictures, but I think at one point my lens got a little too close to him because he rattled and then moved quickly away to hide under a rock.

I wandered a bit more, but I was running out of water and feeling tired and thirsty, so I knew I needed to head for the car before doing anything else. It was a warm day and I was feeling the effects of the heat and sun, and the walk back to my car took longer than I thought it would.

Back at the parking lot, I set to work on rehydrating myself and having a snack. I really should have carried a lunch and more water into the badlands. As I relaxed there, I met a wonderful couple named Bob and Sharon. Bob is a black-and-white nature photographer, and a wonderful one at that. Go Google Bob Kolbrener and check out his work. You’ll be glad you did. I also chatted a little with a young German couple who didn’t seem to know too much about the landscape they were about to walk into, so I gave them some advice on how to find some of the interesting parts I’d seen.

While exploring an area of badlands next to one of the nearby gravel roads, I met a young man named Nelson, who corrected my pronunciation of “Bisti” — I had been thinking it was “bis-tee” but it’s actually “bis-tie” pronounced like you “tie” your shoe. Since Nelson told me his last name is Bisti, I suppose he would know better than anyone. He was on horseback, with his dog following, looking for a missing cow. He told me about how many people he meets out there, and how often they’re lost. One time, he said, he encountered a young couple from Japan with their child in a stroller, lost and unable to find their car. They had been walking for hours. Considering the harsh desert terrain, the picture of a lost couple with a baby in a stroller is a pretty alarming idea!

As the light faded, I made my way back to Farmington and went to the Three Rivers Brewery for a delicious microbrew and a hearty dinner.

I awoke to a beautiful cool desert morning but could tell that the day would warm up quickly. I went to the Eklecticafe for breakfast, which was a nice treat. On my way back to the campground, I made a detour to Spanish Valley Road, as my new friends the previous night had suggested. Sure enough, there was a salvage yard filled mainly with old Volkswagens, but there were some other old gems there as well. My timing was perfect: just as I was taking some pictures of the hubcap gate, the owner drove up and let me in to photograph while he worked in the garage.

One of the odd and sometimes sad things about photographing discarded vehicles is the random object that is sometimes left behind when the car is abandoned. This is understandable — a lot of these cars look like they’ve been in accidents, and personal property is often forgotten and left in the car after such traumatic experiences. I’ve seen stuffed animals and toys, tools, clothing, coffee mugs, luggage… all kinds of stuff. At this particular salvage yard, sitting on top of a Karmann Ghia was an old woven suitcase and a canteen, both of definite vintage origins. I took some pictures and left them in their place.

I got back to my campsite and should have been ready to check out, but I realized I was perilously low on my supply of clean clothes, so I took the opportunity to do laundry and catch up on an episode of Mad Men. I’ve barely missed TV on this trip, but two shows were on my must-view list: Project Runway and Mad Men. Thank goodness for iTunes and campgrounds with wi-fi!

Armed with fresh clean laundry and burning questions about Don Draper’s future, I headed out on the road towards Farmington, New Mexico, by driving south on Utah 191 and then southeast into Colorado on Route 491. In the town of Dove Creek, I found another treasure trove of old rusty cars — some of the usuals, like a Galaxie 500 and Ford Fairlane, but also a couple of DeSotos, which I rarely see.

Apparently, this part of Colorado is bean farming country — I’d never given much thought to where in the USA our legumes originate, so this was a small moment of enlightenment. I passed a number of small towns with signs for bean companies, one of which declared simply, “OPEN. BEANS.”

Near Cortez, CO, my jaw dropped at the sight of a huge field of junked cars, with the LaSal Mountains as a picturesque backdrop. I could have spent the whole rest of the day there if there hadn’t been a big sign warning me to “KEEP OUT.” I have a problem, don’t I? I promise, I really did not stop at every junkyard I saw.

I continued on the highway passing Hovenweep, a notable area of ancient Native American ruins. I had been tempted to try to fit a visit into this trip, but I knew it is an destination that warrants more than a cursory visit. Next trip! I was also near Mesa Verde National Park, another scenic area with a fascinating array of cliff dwellings. I visited Mesa Verde briefly on my first trip to the Southwest over 15 years ago, so I didn’t put it on the agenda for this trip, although I would definitely like to go there again.

I continued south into New Mexico, passing through the town of Shiprock, with its towering namesake formation in the near distance, and headed east on Route 64 into Farmington, where I planned to stay for the next couple of nights. I had chosen Farmington because it’s the nearest town to the remote and otherworldly area called the Bisti Badlands, which would be my destination for the following day.

I decided to take a break from the camper and instead checked in at the Region Inn, which was an inexpensive but pleasant place to stay. While I was unloading my car, one of the other guests came up to ask about my trailer, and as usual, we ended up chatting for a while. His name was Rufus, and he travels to the area frequently to conduct fire and rescue training sessions. He very kindly gave me some great advice on scenic routes in Colorado that would come in handy later in my trip. After talking for a while, I got settled in to the hotel and had dinner at their on-site Mexican restaurant, called Tequila’s. It was a pleasant surprise — the food was quite good, and I had enough for leftovers!

I woke up early, but not early enough to make the hour’s drive to Dead Horse Point State Park in time to catch the sunrise. Still, I had enough golden morning light in which to enjoy the quiet grandeur of the new day in the desert. Dead Horse Point sits adjacent to the northernmost part of Canyonlands National Park, and the views are similar, but it’s worth visiting both. I walked a bit of the rim trail and took my time exploring a bit off-trail before heading to Canyonlands.

At Canyonlands, I drove to all the viewpoints and took almost all of the short hikes to overlooks with sweeping views of the rugged desert landscape carved by the Green and Colorado Rivers. I particularly enjoyed the hike around a portion of the Upheaval Dome, the eroded remnants of what is likely an impact crater where a meteorite hit the earth 60 million years ago. I looked with a little bit of envy at the 4WD White Rim Road that led down into the canyons, and thought that next time I return to this part of the world, my husband Jamie is coming with me, and we’re taking a 4WD vehicle!

I caught some late afternoon light at Mesa Arch, ducking out of the way of about a dozen other photographers, and caught the sunset back at the overlook at Dead Horse Point State Park, where the atmosphere was almost like a party. People finishing their hikes and snacking, lounging around watching the sunset, even a guy playing Beatles songs on the guitar while his friends sang along. I caught some sunset photos with glowing gold threads rimming the darkening clouds and headed back towards Moab with my stomach growling. Time for dinner!

Back in town, I decided to check out Moab Brewery. Something about a day of hiking and trail mix makes the idea of a burger and a beer especially appealing. The restaurant was packed with people, but I found a table in the bar area. As I ate my meal, a couple named Gretchen and Peter came up and asked if they might join me at my table since it was so busy and there would be a long wait. I had three extra seats, so I was happy to welcome them. They were visiting from Steamboat Springs — they have a house in Moab where they like to go to warm up when the weather in the mountains of Colorado gets too cold. We had a great time talking, and it was nice to share a dinner table with other people again — especially such nice people! Naturally, we got to talking about what I was doing on my trip, they checked out some of my photos on my business cards, and when they learned I like to shoot rusty old cars, they advised me to check out Spanish Valley Road before I left town.

Happy to have had a great dinner and made some new friends, I headed back to my camper for the night.

I woke up bright and early and decided to backtrack on Route 50 a few miles to check out the copper mining town of Ruth. (Fun Maryland-related aside: former Congresswoman Helen Delich Bentley was born in Ruth.) However, it’s not so easy to find the actual old ghost town of Ruth, because the town apparently would pick up and move every time they exhausted one mining site and went on to another. That sounds like a lot of work to me, but what do I know? I try to move as infrequently as possible.

I did get to visit the current mining operation in Ruth, courtesy of the Robinson Nevada Mining Company. They have cleared a visitor-friendly viewing area, just a mile or so up a gravel road, where the public can see the huge mining vehicles trundling up and down, with the terraces cut into the hillsides in the background.

I then hit the road to Great Basin National Park, which is the second least-visited of all of the US National Parks. The reason is certainly not lack of beauty or grandeur — it’s clear that the reason is its remoteness. It’s not a “passing through” destination near a busy major interstate, like Badlands. Many of the National Parks are more or less along the way to other tourist destinations, but you really have to be planning to visit Great Basin to find yourself there.

I ended up stopping at one viewpoint and having a long, wonderful conversation with a lovely couple who live in Alaska and travel to a different part of the US every few months or so. They have a van that they travel in, and they leave it in a different area of the country each time they end their travels. That way they can fly back to Alaska, and then plan their next trip to start from wherever they left their van. Pretty clever strategy!

I then headed up the scenic drive, which is quite a climb — fortunately, I had heeded a park ranger’s advice to leave my trailer in the visitor center parking lot. At another viewpoint, I chatted with another park ranger who was enjoying her last day at Great Basin before heading to California and then her next post at Carlsbad Caverns — what a difference from Great Basin that would be!

At the end of the road, in the shadow of 13,000-foot Wheeler Peak, I wanted to take at least a brief hike. I had spent a lot more time chatting with people than I had planned, so I didn’t have a lot of time for a leisurely hike, but that’s a tradeoff I’m happy to make, since I’ve met so many nice, interesting people on this trip. I hiked through bristlecone pines and quaking aspens to the picturesque and peaceful Stella Lake, and much of the trail was covered in snow. I had not expected to be hiking through snow in Nevada. Great Basin may be remote and little-visited, but it’s a gem.

Back on the Route 50, I wanted to get to the town of Delta, Utah, before dark. As I made my way along one of the straightest, flattest stretches of highway I’ve ever driven, it occurred to me again that I could take that one highway all the way across the country and end up darn near my own front door.

I crossed into Utah as the sun set behind me and realized I’d lost an hour, crossing into another time zone, but I was also happy because I’d come one state closer to home.

After my customary breakfast of coffee and oatmeal, I started to head out of town, only to pull over into a parking lot and indulge one of my quirks — my need to say hello to any pugs and their families that I see! Since I’ve been gone from home for 50 — yes, 50! days now — I’m really missing my dogs. So when I saw a family with two pugs walking down the sidewalk in Bishop, I had to pull over and visit. The family very kindly let me pet and fuss over their dogs, Cookie and Sweet Pea, and I shared with them some pictures of our pugs, Sophie and Tippi, and our husky mix, Rocky. I come from a family of pet-owners and animal-lovers, so being away from my canine companions for two months is definitely an adjustment.

I headed out of Bishop on US Route 6, aka the Grand Army of the Republic Highway. In theory, I could actually follow this road all the way across the country and end up at the Atlantic Ocean in Provincetown, Massachusetts. But my plan on US 6 only took me a little beyond the town of Tonopah, Nevada, where I would then continue across the state towards little-visited Great Basin National Park. This would be a day of lots of driving.

As I approached the Nevada state border near Boundary Peak (the highest summit in Nevada, in the White Mountains), I turned off the highway to explore an abandoned casino and motel that had apparently fallen victim to a fire. I spent nearly an hour there, taking pictures and pondering the mysteries of a site that was once a bustling business, turned to rust and ashes. It was a beautiful, crisp morning, and as I drove on into Nevada, I enjoyed the views of the snowcapped White Mountains with sagebrush covered desert foothills below.

From the burnt-down casino:

Drawer of Rust

I am convinced that nothing will give you more appreciation of how immense this country is than driving across it. The empty vastness of the state of Nevada alone is almost overwhelming. The desert has a starkness that lays everything bare and reveals the topography of the land like no other kind of landscape.

I arrived in Tonopah in time to eat some lunch, fill up the gas tank (something you do at every available opportunity in this part of the country), and get caught in traffic behind a parade, for the second time on this trip! This time the occasion was Homecoming for a high school football team apparently called the Muckers. My car was one of the first through the street at the tail of the parade, so we stragglers became de facto parade participants — the spectators along the streets waved and called to us as we passed, which was fun. I didn’t have any candy to throw at the crowds, so I just smiled and gave the “Queen wave” back.

Outside of town, I turned north on Route 376, which puts up a fair fight with Route 50 for the title of the “Loneliest Highway” as it passes through the Big Smokey Valley. It’s very remote, and pretty in it’s own stark way. I glanced at my iPhone at one point and was shocked to find I had four bars, whereas in many towns I’ve been in, I have had absolutely no service at all. AT&T drives me crazy.

I hit Route 50 and headed east, stopping to explore Main Street in the silver mining town of Eureka, and Ray, the very kind owner of the Silver Sky Lodge RV Park, let me photograph some cool old cars and an abandoned hospital on his property.

I continued on to the town of Ely, where I found my campsite for the night. I had a craving for pizza, which a busy, flag-bedecked place called All American Pizza satisfied quite nicely. Bonus: Tomorrow’s lunch!

Bright and early in the morning, I left Lake Tahoe, and naturally, the weather was much improved from the day before. Such has been my luck with weather. I headed south on Route 89, and took a detour through Gardnerville because one of the mountain passes on 89 was closed due to snow. My original plan had been to visit Yosemite National Park next, so I had called the phone line for Yosemite’s road conditions to find out that Tioga Pass, the only route into the park from the east side, was closed due to snow. So, after much thought and map consultation, I decided to bypass Yosemite on this trip and just head down 395 through the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains as far as Bishop, an area I had not yet visited (I’ve been through the lower stretches of 395, near Lone Pine and the Alabama Hills, a couple of times before).

Along the way, I stopped and took some photos at an old abandoned ranch, with beautiful snowcapped mountains in the background. The ground was soft from the rain and snow of the day before, and I happened to not be wearing hiking boots, so I was choosing my footing carefully. However, I stepped in one area that appeared to be just a little sandy wash, only to have my foot immediately sink in to the point where the sand/mud covered my shoe and nearly sucked it off my foot! Is this what quicksand is like? I slopped my way back to the car, changed shoes, laughed at myself, and moved on.

One of the stops along the route that I’d been looking forward to was the mining ghost town of Bodie, about 13 miles off the highway. Bodie is one of the best preserved ghost towns in California, and the site is managed by the state park service. It’s a fairly twisty unpaved mountain road, but I’d been assured it is fine for a passenger car and didn’t require high clearance, so I headed up the road, with the trailer still attached.

About 9 miles up the road, the sky had gone totally gray, and sleety snowy stuff started falling, hard. Just as the ghost town buildings came into sight in the distance, I passed through a muddy, slippery patch on the road and realized this was not going to be a good idea. It was already 3:30 and the park closes at 5:00 pm, and looking at the sky, I had no faith that this weather was going to improve in any time to take photos. Not to mention that I didn’t love the idea of driving through this slippery stuff on an unpaved road, with the trailer. I found a wide spot in the road, turned around, and headed back to the highway. Bodie is at an elevation of well over 8,000 feet, and my car’s thermometer read 35 degrees up there, whereas at the highway it was 7,000 ft and 45 degrees. It’s amazing how a ten mile drive can result in such a dramatic difference in weather and conditions.

Disappointed but relieved to be off that road, I continued on to Mono Lake. The first viewpoint along the lake that I found was not the most scenic (the tufa formations were far from shore) and frankly, something in the area smelled pretty rank. I drove on and found the visitor center and figured out that the area I really wanted to see, South Tufa, was another 20 minutes away, so on I went. I got there in time to catch the late day light over the rock formations, and could finally see why photographers are so enthusiastic about the area. It is truly fascinating.

Here’s a teaser shot of Mono Lake from my evening shoot. I’m sure I’ll post more:

Once the light was gone, I found a room at the Murphey Motel in the town of Lee Vining (it was too late to search for a campsite) and ate dinner at Nicely’s, an old-school diner in town.