Every morning on this trip, I wake up and give thanks that I’m able to have this experience. It’s truly a blessing to have the luxury of time to wander across the country, seeing amazing places that many people never get to experience in person. Every day brings some visual treat, and some days it’s something I anticipated — a natural landmark or national park — and other days it’s something more mundane but nonetheless fascinating to me. Little towns that time seems to have forgotten, rolling hills of farmland, miles of desert buttes and blue skies, even acres of rusting automobiles and falling-down barns. There is so much beauty in this country, and it’s not always where you expect to find it.

But then there’s the practical stuff, too. After spending the morning at the hotel, responding to email and catching up on errands (bills still have to be paid!), I left the town of Delta, heading west on Route 50 towards Moab and Canyonlands. Route 50 merges with I-70 through this part of Utah, so this would be one of the few times on the trip I would be on the interstate. This is a part of the country I have visited before, and I had happy moments of recognition of the colorful desert landscape as I passed the entrance routes for the San Rafael Swell region and the remote northernmost parts of Capitol Reef National Park. I was a little sorry I would not be revisiting those areas on this trip, but southern Utah is actually one part of the country I have revisited numerous times for the amazing desert scenery. The only national park in southern Utah I had not yet visited was on my agenda for this trip: Canyonlands. Moab is the closest town to the Island in the Sky section of Canyonlands, so I had planned to make Moab my home base for the next couple of nights.

From I-70, I decided to take the longer route to Moab since I’d never gone that way before: Scenic Highway 128 south through the Castle Valley area, past the Fisher Towers and along the Colorado River. The highway skirts the southernmost boundary of Arches National Park, although there is no vehicle access into the park from this road. Most of the highway runs alongside the river through the canyon — a beautiful area of dramatic red rock walls and spires, where hiking and mountain biking opportunities abound. This is definitely an area that warrants a lengthier visit!

Since I had gotten a late start and taken such a leisurely route to Moab, I arrived in town as the sun set, found a campsite, and spent some time just looking at the star-filled nighttime sky before settling in 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!

My internal alarm clock did not wake me in time to catch the sunrise at Mono Lake, but I still got to the shoreline in time for some nice early morning light… and to pass a bunch of photographers who had apparently caught the earliest rays of day and were off to find breakfast. This was just as well with me, because even though I love a good sunrise-glow photograph as much as the next person, I have an aversion to being elbow-to-elbow with 40 other photographers at a location. I know, I know, these images will be classics, but my heart always sinks just a little when I arrive somewhere for sunrise (see: Oxbow Bend at the Tetons, Delicate Arch in Arches, etc.) and see a line of tripods in the same damn spot. I guess it’s just that rebellious streak in me that wants to go somewhere else, where everyone else is not.

Nevertheless, I had a nice chat with some of the other photographers there, including Gary Hart (the photographer, not the politician) who was leading a workshop. It is a spectacular location for a workshop — there are so many interesting photographic possibilities in the combination of water, rock, light, waterfowl and sky.

As the sun rose higher, I headed back toward Lee Vining, grabbed a breakfast of coffee and a muffin from a cool little coffee shop, and hit the road again. I took the scenic June Lake loop and found some patches of fall foliage and walked along a peaceful lake shore in the shadows of the beautiful snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains. There is nothing quite like crisp autumn mountain air.

I arrived at the busy town of Bishop feeling quite hungry, and it’s a good thing, because I’d heard that Erick Schat’s Bakery was the place to go for lunch. It did not disappoint. I got a delicious and filling sandwich on some of the freshest bread I’ve ever eaten, plus some goodies to go.

I found a campsite for the night at Brown’s Town Campground near the south side of Bishop, and after such a big, late lunch, I was not feeling up for much of a dinner, but I did want to relax with a cup of tea and spend some time working on my perpetually-behind-the-times blog. So I found the Looney Bean Cafe, which is a great little place to hang out and enjoy a cuppa. Unfortunately, in the cafe that night there was a little bit of drama that hit me harder than I expected.

As I worked at my laptop, I realized at some point that an older lady had come in from the street, and that one of the barristas was helping her to a chair and attending to her, but it was all very quiet and I didn’t pay a lot of attention. Until the paramedics arrived. The lady had been having chest pains and symptoms of a heart attack. To most people (including myself), and in most situations, this may not have been terribly upsetting, but as they brought in the gurney and fixed an oxygen mask over the woman’s face to take her to the hospital, all of a sudden I found myself trying to stifle a sob. This was the first time since my mother passed away in 2008 that I’d seen someone taken on a gurney. Watching this episode, it hit me like a thunderbolt how close this was to the circumstances of my mother’s passing (she had a heart attack and went into cardiac arrest in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, but was revived long enough to have a month in the ICU before she passed away). I had my face turned to the wall so I don’t think anyone really saw me lose it, but I felt incredibly silly, and it took me a while to compose myself after that. Grief sometimes sneaks up on us when we least expect it, but that was definitely one of those moments that caught me completely off guard.

Not too long after that, it was time for the cafe to close for the night, so I headed back to the campground to settle in for the evening. As I was unloading some stuff from my car, two men with Russian accents walked by and said hello and commented on my tiny trailer, like almost everyone does. They asked some questions about it, and then things got a little weird. One of them asked how a couple would, um, perform, in such a small camper. I laughed it off with a pointed remark about my HUSBAND, but he apparently didn’t get it, because he offered to help me with any needs I might have in that department. Uh, no, buddy. Just no. I politely but firmly let him know that I had no needs with which he would be helping me. As the men walked away, the other man said, “You are a very nice person.” I replied, “Yes, but I’m not THAT nice.”

Suffice to say I slept with the doors locked that night. Just in case.

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.

I awoke to more rain, but I headed out in my car to explore Lake Tahoe anyway. I headed south on Rt 89, and stopped briefly at a couple of scenic points, but the weather was so gloomy and rainy that I couldn’t find much in the way of photo opportunities, although I was pleasantly surprised that this low-light shot turned out nicely:

Tahoe Leaf

So I found a little cafe in South Tahoe, and sat and worked on downloading and editing photos for a little while. However, even that effort was unsuccessful. I’m having some kind of computer difficulty in the Lightroom application, which is my main tool for importing, keywording, assessing, and editing my photos. The program has frozen, and in the process frozen my laptop a couple of times now, and upon restarting my computer and relaunching the application, I found that my Lightroom library was corrupted. Arrggggh. It seems that on every photo trip I take, I have some at least minor computer disaster. Fortunately, I’ve been backing up everything to an extra external hard drive as I import each memory card, so my files are intact. I’m just having trouble with Lightroom, and I doubt I’ll be able to fix the problem until after I return home. If any of you reading happen to be Lightroom experts, drop me a note and let me know your thoughts. In the meantime, this makes it hard for me to post new photos while I’m on the trip, so that’s why you’re not seeing new work from me on my Flickr site. Trust me, I will add them in time!

After I spent some time at the cafe, feeling frustrated with my lack of progress on all fronts, I headed back to my cabin and had some leftovers from the previous night’s dinner for my lunch, and I did a little more work on the computer, making some notes for my now-long-overdue blog posts. I noticed the sky clearing, and took advantage of the brief window in the weather to head off on a nearby little hike the hotel manager had recommended. It’s a trail on the state line between Nevada and California, on the site where the Brockway Hotel used to be, and it’s a pleasant hike with beautiful views out over the lake. I got rained on just a little bit, but got some nice photos of the dramatic skies over Lake Tahoe in the distance, as the sun lowered.

After my hike, I headed into Incline Village to find some dinner and decided to try a sushi restaurant called Yoshimi. Of course, I had the Flaming Lips song going through my head all the rest of the evening. I was happy with my meal — the sushi actually seemed quite fresh, and I had enough edamame to take for a snack the next day.

As this trip progresses, I’m getting better at editing my destinations, either prioritizing or going with what I find as I explore. It’s hard for me because I want to see EVERYTHING, but that’s just impossible. The more I travel, the more I realize what I can realistically fit in any given day or time. This morning was a good example. I had wanted to visit McKerricher Park and the botanic gardens at Mendocino while I was in the area. However, if I was going to keep to my schedule, I would need to hit the road pretty soon, so I poked around on Sea Glass beach (a fascinating area of beach covered not so much in sand as in tiny bits of glass, left over from the days when that area was used as a bottle depository), photographed some fishing boats in the Noyo harbor, and started on the road to Lake Tahoe.

Heading to Tahoe, I found the higher elevation portion of I-80 to be the roughest, noisiest stretch of interstate I’ve ever driven. I know the Prius doesn’t exactly have a stellar reputation for shutting out road noise, but it was darn hard to hear Terry Gross interview Jon Stewart on the radio over the rumbling of the road as I passed the Donner summit.

I arrived at Lake Tahoe in early evening, in pouring rain. I wasn’t even going to bother looking for camping in this weather, so I checked out tripadvisor.com and found a place in the town of Tahoe Vista called Cedar Glen Lodge — they got good reviews, and I was happy as well. Thanks to the very helpful Martha and Danny, I got a cute little rustic cabin with a kitchen for about $80 a night, and I walked a couple of blocks to a nearby restaurant called Spindleshanks. While the food was pretty good, I have to say the service was lacking. My waiter seemed a bit indifferent to me, and it took longer than it should have for my pasta entree to arrive after I finished my salad. Oh well, at least my entree was big enough to provide me with two subsequent meals after that dinner!

Eureka! Remember how I was lamenting the lack of good iced tea in the middle of the country? I found Honest Tea in a convenience store in Eureka and darn near bought out their inventory. I think the cashier thought there was something wrong with me.

Tired of my usual camping breakfast of oatmeal or Cheerios, I went to Renata’s Creperie in Arcata, where I had a delicious crepe with banana, strawberry, and Nutella, as well as excellent coffee. I then explored the Samoa dunes area and got some pictures of crashing waves and dramatic skies, as well as some details of boats in a nearby marina. The only bad part of the day happened in Arcata, where I found most the unpleasant public bathroom I’ve encountered since the gas station bathroom in Nevada I had to use in an emergency 15 years ago. I’m still trying to erase it from my memory.

I continued down 101 toward the Humboldt Redwoods State Park. I’ve noticed that my little trailer gets more visible reactions from other drivers on the coasts than it does in the middle of the country. A couple of times, people smiled and pointed and waved as they passed me on the highway.

South of the town of Scotia, I veered off the highway to take Route 254, the Avenue of the Giants through the redwoods. The beautiful sunny day was welcome, but not really the best for photographing the redwoods, so I was glad I’d had the foggy redwood experience the day before. Still, I enjoyed the trip, and even drove my car AND the trailer through a drive-through redwood tree at Chandelier Tree, one of the tourist traps along the way. Hey, I’d come 6,500 miles so far on this trip — I’m definitely going to take my trailer through a tree even if it does cost $7.

I continued on Route 101, and as I had planned, headed once again toward the coast on Route 1. Wow, is that one twisty-turny, hairpin-curved highway. It almost made me feel a little woozy. It was a relief to finally see the ocean come into view. I made my way to Fort Bragg for the night, and decided to stay at the Beachcomber motel, which has wonderful views of the ocean and has some very reasonable off-season rates. I had a little bit of time to take a quick trip down to Sea Glass Beach and take some photos as the sun went down behind the crashing waves. I then enjoyed fish & chips and a nice dark beer at the North Coast Brewing Company before calling it a night.

I said goodbye to my friendly hosts at the Aspen Inn and left Fort Klamath to head south, toward the California Redwood country. In the Jedediah Smith Redwood State Park, I stopped at a few of the pullouts to admire the impressive, towering stands of redwoods. But I didn’t want to linger too long, because I wanted to really take my time at the Lady Bird Johnson Grove in Redwood National Park, which I’d heard was especially worthwhile. As I got closer to the coast, it got foggier and mistier, and a light drizzle had begun by the time I drove up the climbing, winding road to the Lady Bird Johnson Grove. Undeterred by the weather, I headed out on the short but rewarding hike through the redwoods. The quiet, foggy atmosphere was almost eerie, but beautiful and awe-inspiring. It’s challenging to photograph there, but regardless of what kind of images I come away with, it’s totally worth the trip just to experience it.

I continued south and ended up in the California coastal town of Eureka, where I found a campsite and then ate dinner at the unique and historic Samoa Cookhouse. This is the last surviving lumber camp-style cookhouse in the region, and it’s quite an experience. They serve everything family-style, so for a party of one, it’s a little overwhelming. Bread (soft and fresh and good), soup, salad, ribs and chicken and potatoes and corn, and then dessert… whew! It’s a good thing I don’t eat like that all the time.

I don’t think this day could have been much better. The weather: perfect. The setting: sublime. Crater Lake is as peaceful and beautiful a place as I’ve seen. The advantage to visiting out-of-season: lack of crowds. The disadvantage: no boats were going to Wizard Island. Oh well, I’ll just have to visit again!

I had another Smalltimore moment, my second in two days. Considering how few people seemed to be in the area, I found this pretty remarkable. I pulled up at an overlook next to another car with Maryland tags, and said hi to the two young men who obviously went with that car since there was no one else in sight. Turns out that one of them used to live in Ellicott City, where my husband used to have a rehearsal space/recording studio.

As the day went on, I felt my throat getting scratchy and my nose started running, but I wasn’t going to let a cold get in my way. I popped some vitamin C, took some nice little hikes and watched the light fade over the lake as I had some dinner at the Lodge.