how to survive: camping with your dog

To be honest, camping with my Westie Bestie, also known as Charles the Feminist, was not something I would have initiated on my own.  The pup requires a fair amount of beauty rest to maintain his rugged good looks and he’s pretty terrible about sharing sleeping quarters.  Also, being a rescue he can get a bit stressed in new environments and the last thing I would want is for him to spend a weekend away feeling panicked in his little puppy heart.  But when my partner in crime Grace suggested that he tag-a-long, I couldn’t help but at least try it.  I mean who wouldn’t want to hangout with this handsome devil nonstop for three days.  I’m happy to report that my fears were [mostly] unfounded and our inaugural camping trip was quite the success.  If Charles were on a hearts and minds campaign, there would be no competition.  The pup excels at garnering maximum belly rubs from unsuspecting strangers.

I went into this whole dog-in-tent situation pretty blind.  What more could he need than the basic necessities of water/food/bathroom bags?  Should you find yourself in a similar situation, here’s what I learned from my first pup + camping adventure:

1) Provide a comfortable traveling experience.

Charles the Feminist has his own car seat when living it up with my parental units.  Actually, he has two because who really wants to be switching those things out from one car to another.  Now usually I would be an obnoxious child and mock my parents for having such a thing.  Charles is a dog.  Dogs can do just fine sitting on a seat with a towel, if need be.  However after having the pleasure of driving more than 20 hours in 3 days with my canine companion, the seat was a necessity.  Not only did it keep the pup contained but he seems to have quite the affinity for that apparatus.  It allowed for prime window gazing, nose in the breeze-ing (when permitted), and he was always happy to get in the jeep.  A win-win for all involved.  As an aside: if your dog is on the larger side of life, a more comfortable traveling experience may entail a fluffy blanket and ample space to stretch out.

2) Plan size-appropriate activities or be prepared to carry your pup.

While in Acadia National Park, Grace and I decided to hike to Bubble Rock, which is described as a moderate trail that when all said and done is about 1.5 miles.  Since we found the Bubbles to be fairly easy/we weren’t as tired as we were expecting given our back to back 4 am wake-ups, we decided to take on the Jordan Pond path which was described as an easy and level loop.  We took what I am guessing is the Bubbles Divide trail but what was later referred to as the Avalanche by a local, which adequately sums up what I encountered with Charles – all the rocks.  For us human folk, it was fun to scramble down various wannabe boulders.  For the canine in the group with adorable stumps for legs, it proved to be a lessen in foot placement and I would guess that he was carried by yours truly for about half of the trail.  Tacking on Jordan Pond Path brought our hike to about 5 miles so by the end of it Charles could no longer find the energy to keep his shortness moving.  Fortunately, being 20 lbs means that he is easily schlepped but I would recommend avoiding my mishap and keeping in mind your dog’s stature and previous mileage when choosing your hike.  Or be prepared to get in a nice arms workout.  Grace is pushing for me to add one of these to the camping gear.  I think I’ll plan on keeping our hikes puppy appropriate from here on out. 

3) Prepare to have your sleeping space invaded.

As I mentioned, Charles is not the best at sharing a bed.  He takes his sleep schedule quite seriously and makes known his displeasure at any mid-slumber toss and turns.  Given the cool evening temperatures in Maine this time of year, Charley had no choice but to snuggle up and deal with my intermittent movements.  Add to it that we had two people and a pup in a two person tent and things got very cozy indeed.  In retrospect, I would have thrown a dog bed/blanket in the car.  Mind you the pup had no trouble at all getting his shut eye in but I would have preferred a little less late night snuggles.

4) Embrace the camp dog stench.

 During our island hopping adventures, I encouraged Charles to take advantage of the calm seas and go for a swim.  Dogs should be dogs and run/swim/play to their hearts' content.  (Except for rolling in dead things/animal feces.  We will have none of that.)  By the time we got back to the campground, it was evening but I still wanted to hose him down since he had spent some quality time in the sea.  He was the epitome of a salty dog.  Much to his disapproval, I tossed him in the shower for a quick rinse, hoping that there was still enough sunlight for him to dry off before the temperature dropped.  Huge mistake.  The cool evening temps necessitated me wrapping Charles in one of my sweatshirts and then letting him cozy up in my sleeping bag.  Lest I remind you of point number 3, this was not the greatest of sleeping set-ups for me.  Lesson learned and bath time will only be occurring at the height of summer heat or in the comfort of his own home.  The pup scent is part of the whole camping experience - why cut yourself short?

5) Make new friends.

People love dogs.  Or should I say, people love Charles.  This dog is more than willing to take a break from whatever the day's activities to allow his adoring fans to show him some love.  Everywhere we went, someone would stop by and ask to pet him while chatting about their own puppy loves.  It created a quick community in a place where Grace and I would have otherwise most likely been left alone.  At the Bass Head Harbor Lighthouse, we met two engineers from Detroit who helped with the transport of Charles over some obstacles.  Along the Jordan Pond Loop, we met a kind older couple who had recently lost their own dog so we exchanged stories on the impact of pets.  Old Quarry Campground is exceptionally dog-friendly so Charles was off-leash and free to mingle with some of his peers.  

All-in-all it was a successful first camping adventure with the pup.  Now to plan our next excursion... 

stonington, maine

As we sat down with our mishmash of leftovers for our last night in Maine, I was only peripherally aware of the single, older gentleman loitering about the campground lobster pot.  With the threat of a tropical storm stymying our plans, I was more than preoccupied with the how and when we going to get back to New York.  (Spoiler alert: I made Grace get up at 2am.  She was thrilled.  Fear not – we’re still on speaking terms and hey we made it back across the LI Sound on a ferry. Win-win if you ask me.)  Also, any extra mental reserves were spent dreamily reminiscing of our day’s activities. 

Inspired by our surroundings and a slow morning, Grace and I had spent the afternoon lazily paddling from one island to another, which dot along the inner coastal Atlantic.  It was one of those days when you know in the moment it is something to be treasured.  While we never ventured too far from our launch, we spent much of the day by ourselves save for an island with an old quarry at it’s heart.  In true New Yorker fashion we managed to meet a couple of newlywed Brooklynites.   We discussed the surprises encounters that occur when one ventures away from the concrete jungle while snacking and sunbathing on the boulders that made up the shorefront.   After parting ways with our new friends and a much regretted dip in some fresh water, we continued on, stopping at the next public island which just do happened to have a little beach that was protected from the intermittent winds which helped make up for the previous stop’s poor decision-making.  As we continued to weave around the marine isles, the only other creatures to be seen were the occasional otter and a multitude of waterfowl and shorebirds.  We returned to the campground as the sun began to sink behind the ancient pines, adding some pink and orange hues to the evening sky to help ease us back to reality. 

By the time the responsibilities of kayak-returning and human/dog-cleaning were finished, any reinvigoration from an afternoon of island exploration had been mostly re-focused on the aforementioned extenuating circumstances of our trip’s end.   We set up our array of snacks and munched away while I did my best to coral Charles the Feminist why planning our return trip home.  I did not anticipate that I would soon be involved in a lengthy conversation with the fellow over by the lobster pot. 

There were certain aspects of this gentleman I noticed right away -probably a familiar thought to anyone who finds themselves as single, young-ish ladies – he was older, presumably my parents’ age, did not have a wedding ring on, and seemed to be by himself.  Again, in the purely judgmental sense, not someone I would have pursued a conversation with.  Not because this equates to an individual being creepy (he was not) but because the threat of it is there and most of the time I simply don’t want to deal with it.  Despite of or perhaps more likely due to my various distractions, we eased into the standard interaction of where are you from and what do you do.  However the discussion quickly veered off from formalities and I found myself seated across the way from a very angry individual.  Not at me, mind you, but at the universe it seemed that had allowed such atrocities in his life to occur.  The issue at the heart of this surprised me.  From his outward proclamations, it would appear that all of this pent up emotion was centered on inadequate pay for his profession, interspersed with vitriol regarding the current administration, a certain ‘crooked’ politician, and a variety of sexist and/or racist comments. 

The catch here though was he genuinely trying to be understood and from what I gathered he was a nice guy.  I understand the notion of ‘good intentions don’t matter’ and I am guilty of harboring such sentiments but in this moment his intentions were of the utmost importance - if only because it enabled me to be open to a change in perspective.  While my initial internal reaction was to focus on weaknesses in his argument in order to take it apart piece by piece (thanks for those genes, Dad), instead I simply listened.  I’m not entirely sure why either.  It’s not as though I have some super human power of patience and/or compassion. Maybe I was still reveling in our dreamy adventure, or I was influenced by the still and weight of the evening sea air, or maybe even I was just too tired to argue after a few long days with pre-dawn risings.   Whatever the reason, it was a fortunate reaction. There would have been no benefit from behaving in a confrontational manner.  Oftentimes people just want to be heard and I forget this because being a person myself, I want to tell my story.  I want my experiences to be validated, for my thoughts to matter.  I want to be known without being exposed.  How rare is it though that I grant that opportunity to the people that I meet.  As the conversation lingered on, he recalled episodes of profound sadness and it was in those moments that his particular worldview began to have some context.  He felt letdown by society - that his hard work and perseverance were for naught.  After all he had overcome, where was the fulfillment of his American dream?  I became preoccupied with the root of his pain rather than focusing on its symptoms and by doing so I ended up just feeling sympathetic. 

It wasn’t all tales of disappointments and despair.  When the topic ever so lightly shifted, every so often a smile would flash across his face such as when describing his love of navigating the Maine coastal waters by kayak or recounting a time of childhood impishness where he grew up in the Midwest.  He spoke with emotion as he shared the pride he felt at finally accomplishing his professional goals.  And he even managed to express some hope at what the future may hold, if only to return to Stonington the following summer. Ultimately, behind the tirade and misplaced advice was a person venturing through life and just trying to make sense of it all. 

post script:

i by no means think i had a perfect response to this encounter but it did get me thinking quite a bit throughout the weeks that follow.  how often do i hear someone say something i disagree with or at worse find offense in and instead of rejecting the words, i reject the person.  i think there is a balance in all of this but a personal life lesson nonetheless.  yay for adulting. 

notes:

we stayed at the old quarry campground and absolutely loved it.  there are limited campsites available so i would recommend reserving a spot sooner than later.  given our last minute plans, we stayed in an overflow site which happened to be a waterfront patch of grass on the owner’s front yard.  it was lovely, especially for a first time camper.  we also rented our kayak from them and found the staff to be incredibly helpful with planning the perfect afternoon excursion.  oh and if you are going to get lobster, buy it there – it goes straight from the sea to the pot.

i still dream of returning for a backpacking adventure at the nearby isle au haut.  thus far it’s been my favorite spot in acadia national park.

don’t be like us and drive to maine for a three day weekend.  make it at minimum a five day adventure and congratulate yourself for taking the time to sleep during your vacation.

wanderlust wednesday: tupper lake, ny

Almost each and every summer my extended family makes the trek up to the Adirondack Mountains for a week of camping and general shenanigans.  It’s a tradition that started many years before I was born and I hope it continues when I am long gone.  For the most part, we fully engage with car camping at its finest complete with evening campfires and one too many s’mores.  I know.  You never thought such a things was possible.  While most of our time is spent living it up at our campsites, when ventures are made to the outside world we tend to flock to Tupper Lake.  There are many North Woods towns that get a greater influx of tourists than Tupper Lake and at first glance it may look like the kind of place to pass on by with Saranac Lake and Lake Placid nearby.  But it’s these oft forgotten neck-of-the-woods that I find make for the best adventures.

Tupper Lake ends up being about a 6 hour drive from NYC so it takes a commitment to get up there but there’s nothing quite like the Adirondack Mountains.  Also, just think of the epic road trip playlist you can groove to you with your buddies as you make your way up.  Car dancing is where it’s at.  So if I could be booty shaking in my orange lovebug up to the Adirondacks this weekend, here’s what I would be up to:

STAY

There are a number of motels to stay at if you wish to re-live the 1980s (the family favorite is Shaheen’s).  However if you are making the trek to hangout in a woodland wonderland, I would recommend you either camp or cozy up in a cabin.  The goal here is to embrace nature.   For the more adventurous type, there are a number of NYS DEC campsites available by canoe/kayak at or near Tupper Lake.

EAT

Tupper Lake has a bunch of new eating establishments which is so very exciting, especially for us veggie minded folk.  There are two microbreweries in town: Raquette River and Big Tupper.  The former is for tastings only but they had shaded picnic tables and a food truck – Arthur’s BBQ – which meat-eaters and vegetarians alike enjoyed.   (Get the beer pretzel.  You won’t regret it.).  The latter has a brewpub feel with a large, wrap-around bar and Mexican-inspired eats.  They’re open 4pm-10pm meaning you can get a nice little pub-crawl going from lunch at Raquette River to dinner at Big Tupper.  Around the corner from Big Tupper is Well Dressed Food and I could hardly contain myself when I saw this cute little shop open along the main street.  I have yet to try it out but it’s well reviewed if that sort of thing matters to you and looks to have delicious eats.  Also, as far as I know, it is the only place in town to score an espresso.

Big Tupper Brewing may not have cable but they do have WIFI... you do what you've got to do when it comes to watching the Olympics.

SEE

Big Tupper’s – the aforementioned brewery - namesake is an old ski mountain in town.  You can wander around the grounds, which during the summer months tend to have a pretty array of wildflowers for your viewing pleasure.   For more nature seeing, ignore the advertising geared towards the 10 and under crowd and head on over to the Wild Center.   The elevated treetop trail is just as fun as much fun as it looks and who doesn’t want to challenge their cousins to a teepee-building contest?  Due to its popularity, I would recommend visiting during the week rather than the weekend and the earlier in the day the better.

DO

Canoe!

Exploring the lake by paddle is one of my all-time favorite activities.  It enables you to check out the local wildlife as well as ample opportunities to cool off in some fresh water.  If you don’t have access to your own or a loved one’s kayak/canoe/paddle board, Raquette River Outfitters has quite the paddling operation going.  They’ll even help you plan a route throughout the regions interconnected lakes, ponds, and rivers.   

Hike!

There are oodles of hiking options throughout the Adirondacks, including many within Tupper Lake and the surrounding region.  Ampersand is a bit of a legend with our family, mostly due to the underrepresentation of its difficulty by certain relatives.  That being said, if you are an experienced hiker who likes mixing it up with some bouldering, it is definitely well worth the climb.  For a less strenuous hike, Mount Arab, Goodman Mountain, and Coney Mountain all offer great views.  If you’re up to the challenge, complete all three for the Tupper Lake Triad which earns you a spiffy patch to show off your endeavor.   

Climb!

Baker Mountain offers some great options for rock climbing newbies.  Both High Peaks Mountain Adventures and Eastern Mountain Sports in Lake Placid offer guided climbs, which is where you would find me, should I get the chance to hang off a cliff in the Adirondacks this summer (pro-climber I am not).  I bet they would have some pretty sweet recommendations too for those of you looking for more challenging routes.

How to embrace the lake life when you are paddle-less - addition of root beer is key. 

notes:

adirondack summers are a bit on the cooler side, especially for us cold-blooded folk who prefer temperatures in the 80s.  listen to your inner mother and bring lots of layers.  i’ve been known to wear the same cardigan over and over again but if i was in the need for something new these two look like the perfect combination of affordable and cozy while treating the people involved in the clothing manufacturing process well.  

the olympic center at lake placid is especially fitting given this summer’s primetime activity but does require a bit of a drive on over from tupper to get there.  the photo op alone may be enough to entice you but let me sweeten the deal and remind you that you can ride an inner tube down the ski jumps.         

for more adirondack loving, check out last summer’s posts here and here.

misadventures in mountain biking

After putting a good 26 or so miles in two days on our legs, we thought it was best to give ourselves a day of rest back in Park City.  We had big plans to climb Mount Timpanogos and with 14+ miles round trip and a nice 4300+ feet of elevation gain, we knew that our bodies needed a break before tackling it.  After some careful consideration, we thought what better way to recuperate out and about town than to try out a new to us activity - mountain biking.  (I’ll let you all have a good laugh at our expense now).

Mountain biking is something that has always placed just a smidgen of terror in the depths of my heart.  I consider myself a fairly competent cyclist but the problem is I tend to have terrible reactions to anything sudden.  Case in point, Grace and I were riding to the Rockaways a few years ago when I fishtailed in some sand and hit a curb.  I was going so slowly that all I had to do was put my foot down - just remove my foot from the pedal and ever so slightly stretch out my leg so my toes could meet the sidewalk.  Instead I opted to let the bike tumble over with me still fully attached, both hands gripped to the handlebars, feet somehow attempting to pedal as if it would prevent the inevitable.  Now place me on the side of a mountain and the consequences are a bit more painful than having to ask the local fire department for some antiseptic and bandaids.  However, despite my inherent quirks, this time around I was not to be deterred. 

Park City has a very extensive network of biking trails that meander through the town and up into the surrounding mountains and/or hills.  Even the city itself is very bike friendly with biking lanes, paved trails, and cyclist-aware drivers.  We made a few phone calls and after a short stroll from our hotel, we found ourselves chatting up the bike shop dudes while trying to figure out what we had just signed ourselves up for. 

Being that neither one of us had ever attempted mountain biking before, we were sure to ask about the difficulty of the trails, specifically which ones were for beginners.  You see - I was kind of a bit nervous about this whole downhill over rocks and such at a fast speed piece.  Yes, until a recent theft, I rode my bike throughout NYC.  And yes, I do plenty of other things that others may consider on the riskier side of things (ahem surfing… rock climbing…).  But I just couldn’t shake this idea that I was going to careen off the side of a mountain.  This preoccupation ultimately led to a gross oversight.  While I spent all this time worrying about getting down the mountain, I forgot to consider the whole getting up the mountain piece.   In case you haven’t already figured this out for yourself, let me help you out so you don’t make the same mistake I did.  They way up should definitely be one’s primary consideration.  Our initial excitement over reaching the trails quickly gave way to the realization that one must go up to come back down.  At times the only motivation I had to continue pedaling was knowing that I would otherwise be rolling backwards.    The bonus to the very real, all-consuming burning sensation in my thighs was that I suddenly no longer cared so much about falling.  If anything, it would have brought relief to the fire that was currently engulfing my lower limbs.  At least then I could have pretended to the guys back at the bike shop that I was so hardcore.  (Those dudes may have been the other motivation to keep my legs moving… freaking pride.) 

As we meandered up what was really just a large hill, we began to gain confidence in addition to our indifference to crashing.  No longer did we feel the need to be tied to the easy green trails.  No - we decided to go all in for the intermediate blue trails.  I know, we’re such daredevils.  Soon instead of accidentally careening off the trail, we were intentionally flying down it.  Mud splattered in our faces, rocks kicked up behind us, and while it was by no means pretty, we managed to avoid ditches and maneuver over obstacles.  And it was the greatest thing ever.  No longer did I care about the previous moment’s pain nor the very real possibility that I would eventually eat it on the trail, I wanted to experience that rush again. 

At some point, I became somewhat aware of the very dark and very large clouds rolling in behind us.  But what I failed to realize was how quickly that would mean pelting rain and blustery wind.  Against both of our better judgments, we attempted to make our way back up the hill again because how bad could it really be?  I know.  I am going to blame this one on all of my blood being in my thighs.  Fortunately, we didn’t get very far.  No sooner had we decided to attempt ascent that a very fancy looking rider (so much neon spandex) swung on by stating, ‘It’s really rough out there’ to which I brilliantly replied, ‘The trails?’ As though he was about to respond, ‘Yes, I know man - those trails are rough, have you tried the uphill bits?  They’re the worst.’  My new best friend gave me a look I thought was only reserved for my father as he gestured emphatically at the looming clouds and the far off lightning that had decided to accompany them while he furiously rode away.  Slightly defeated, we decided that yes, fancy biker dude you are in fact correct and yes, we should definitely be heading back to town. 

Another grand oversight on our part was that the trail we had chosen to come down led us to the lowest elevation and even better, the way back to town was directly into the wind.  For 2-3 miles, I stood while pedaling and simultaneously attempting to keep my body positioned as aerodynamically efficient as possible.  There was no talking at this point.  No smiling.  Not even a smirk.  Now the only motivation was the promise of hot chocolate and hot tub back at our hotel because rain + wind = freezing ladies. 

Just as we made it back toward the trail leading back to the shop, the sun decided to reappear warming us up and drying us out as we munched on some lunch.  It was at this point we had a bit of a realization - we had the bikes for 4 hours; we had only been out for maybe 3.  There was no way we were returning these bikes early on principle and pride.  So we did what any sane human being would do with sore bodies and time to kill.  We biked an extra 6 miles on the rail trail alongside some cattle, which brings us to oversight number 3… just in case you are keeping track.  I was slightly aware that it was much easier pedaling along this path and I knew, inherently, that the grade had to be working in our favour but how bad could it be?  We had just survived mountain biking and we were passing families with little ones and large groups of 20-30 somethings uneasily maneuvering their bicycles on the packed dirt.  Rookie mistake.  In addition to the grade, there was also the wind (how quickly one forgets) to contend with which meant that for the 5-6 miles back to the shop, we pedaled ever so slightly uphill and directly into the wind. 

As we neared the bike shop, my pride kicked back in and instead of taking the safe, paved trail all the way around I opted for the makeshift dirt and rock filled one because lest we forget - we are hardcore ladies who bike up mountains.  We dropped off our bikes outside and forced our legs to not wobble as we returned out helmets to the shop.  Asked how it went, we were all smiles -- ‘so much fun, it was awesome, best time ever but we totally got caught in a storm though’ -- to which bike shop dude replied -- ‘you don’t look wet.’  So much for impressing the locals.   

notes:

despite my previous whining, we really did have a ridiculously good time mountain biking.  the bike shop dudes (as they will forever be remembered and therefore referred to as such) recommended round valley which has a great variety of beginner and intermediate trails (here’s a map).  these trails are also open to hikers and horses so please remember that as a cyclist, everyone has right of way over you.  and please please please - always let a horseback rider know well in advance if you are approaching them from behind.  failing to do so could be detrimental to both the rider and you -- no one likes a hoof to the face.  no one.

we rented bikes with white pine touring.  the people there are super friendly (despite not acknowledging our obviously apparent badassery) and took the time to make sure we were comfortable with our bikes and where we were going.  also their shop is located right next to the rail trail making it pretty easy to get to a wide range of terrain.  if you are someone who actually mountain bikes - as in you’ve got skills- check out slim & knobby’s down in heber city. 

if only just for me, go to atticus teahouse should you find yourself in park city.  they have the cutest little book/sandwich/coffee/tea shop in town with lots of veggie friendly food, if that’s your thing.  for a huge, oh my goodness how did i eat so much breakfast, we enjoyed eating establishment.  they also have plenty of veggie dishes and even a few vegan options.  (you’ll have to ask for vegan modifications but a very kind and accommodating bunch). 

return to arches

While our first attempt at checking out Arches leading us to Canyonlands, my friend and I were not about to give up that easily, especially since my traveling buddy had never been.  As per our conversation with the always-friendly park ranger (my love for them is never-ending), we planned to arrive at the break of dawn.  With the sun just beginning to peek up from the horizon and the moon still high in the sky, we made our way to the trail leading to Delicate Arch.   

I’m not going to lie.  I kind of scoffed at the description of difficult in the visitor guide.  It's 480 feet up in 1.5 miles.  What they don't tell you is that you climb most of those feet in a very short distance.  Halfway up the giant mound of rock before us and I was seriously doubting myself, wondering if the burning in my bum muscles was worth it.  The obvious answer is - YES.  Delicate is one of the most popular sites at Arches and for good reason.  The freestanding 65 feet tall arch etched into the sandstone is mesmerizing to behold.  Better yet, due to our sunrise climb, there were only two other people there which provided some peace and quiet to take in the epic views as well as explore a bit of the area. 

After a bit of neighborly chats, photo taking, and breakfast munching, we set our sights on scurrying on over to the northern end of the park to Devil’s Garden.  This was the only part of Arches that I had previously explored (by foot) and it was just as lovely as I remembered it to be.  Oodles of arches and just enough scrambles to keep it interesting without questioning one's sanity.  The last time I was here, my friend and I ended up hiking with a father/son duo and chatted about life all along the primitive trail.  Once again we ended up chatting with a new hiking buddy the whole way back along the primitive trail.  I don’t know exactly what it is about this park but it truly brings out the best in people.  Or maybe the friendliest people visit?  Is it something in the water? 

My return to Arches has only further solidified my love for this region and the desert in general.  While before this trip I may have mentioned my love for Utah and its red rocks at appropriate times in conversation, I am now at the point of awkward proclaimer of my undying love.  You may want to chat about the impact of Brexit on the world economies - you know what else has an impact?  Southern Utah.  On my heart.  Oh yes friends, this relationship is just getting started.  Return trip planning is already in the works. 

notes:

arches can get incredibly crowded during the summers and over holidays (there’s even a handy graph).  we left the park around 11 am on a monday and there was already quite a wait for parking at the devil's garden trailhead.   also, it’s the desert.  by the time 10 am rolls around, it is getting hot and shade is hard to come by.  if you’re not up for sunrise hiking, i would be sure to get to the trails by 8 am at the latest and carry plenty of water.

we covered about 13.5 miles or so in 5 hours as we found the trails at arches to be less strenuous for us than what we encountered at canyonlands.  that being said, there are a number of places where you could very easily slip off the side of a ledge so mind your feets.

i really wanted to check out fiery furnace this time around but was pretty foolish and didn’t think to reserve us spots in advance.  if you are up for some ranger-led scrambles in the middle of arches, be sure to make a reservation.

along the lines of the previous point, i also didn’t reserve a campsite because devils garden has some first come, first served spots? so let’s just wing it?  we ended up sleeping in big bertha at a turn off near the 128/191 intersection by the park entrance.  just an option to keep in mind should you find yourself in a similar situation.

the entire time i was at arches, i could not get this song out of my head.  (i'll leave the surmising about why that song would be on repeat in my noggin for debate on another day.)  now for the disclaimer - we here at the lupine blog do not condone violence regardless of whether it is endorsed by your mother.  glad we cleared that up.

canyonlands national park, ut

Last time I was writing in this neck-of-the-woods it was a doozy so let's lighten things up a bit around here, shall we?  You may have thought that when I returned from six weeks in Jamaica I would have prioritized getting my ducks in a row back in NYC.  You would be wrong.  After spending most of spring in the Caribbean, I thought what better way to adjust back to life stateside than by going on vacation.  I know it's a rough life. 

I've mentioned before that I have a friend who's just as crazy if not crazier when it comes to planning epic hiking adventures.    Our current goal is to hit up a new national park each year.   Past trips include British Columbia and Montana but after a couple years of hiking in snow and avoiding post-hibernation bears we both were ready for something a bit warmer.  When the opportunity to spend a week in Park City presented itself, we went for it knowing that Moab would be less than a morning’s drive away.

Since the weather in Park City was expected to be rainy and cold the first couple of days we were in Utah, we decided to throw some blankets in big bertha and head on down to the desert. (I name my cars… I can't help it.  And yes, they’re all cars.  I don't care if you’re a hemi pick-up.  I'll still call you a car.  I know; I'm special.  And I digress.)  Our initial plan was to check out Arches National Park.  My friend had never been and it's definitely worth the hype.  Apparently, this is a well-known fact because when we arrived at the park entrance, there was a long line of cars backed up to the main road.  We moseyed our way in and eventually made it to the visitor center.  I've probably mentioned this before but my first stop to any park is to chat it up with the park rangers.  They know the best spots to check out for the time of year you are visiting, any hazards to be aware of, and are just genuinely awesome people.  Actually, I have yet to run into a parks person that I didn’t like - even the gift shop lady got me a bandaid from her purse!  Anyway, the friendly folks at Arches told us that unless we wanted to spend our day with the masses, we should take the time to drive to Canyonlands.  Given that we both prefer hikes when you forget other people exist, we hightailed it on over to the Needles.  

The drive to Canyonlands National Park is like no other park I have visited.  Miles of windy roads interspersed with cattle force you to slow down and just take it in.  This is not to say that I haven’t thoroughly enjoyed my other national park adventures but hypothetically speaking I may sometimes get a bit more focused on the destination rather than the journey.  It can be a struggle for me to remain focused in the present.  Perhaps a bit of the human condition.  Perhaps a bit personality quirk. All of this is to say, if you find yourself in need of a perspective reset, Canyonlands is the place to be.

After another stop at the Visitor Center, we eventually made it to the trailhead with maps in hand and ready to stretch our legs in the desert scenery.  I could not have been more excited about it.  By the time we hit the trails, we had been in the car for the better part of 7 hours and little miss does not do well being confined indoors for extended periods of time.  We climbed up and down amongst the red rocks inching our way closer to the spires in the distance.  Every 10 feet or so I would stop and say the same sort of phrase on repeat about the beauty of the place.  I’m fairly certain my travel buddy wanted to silence me as I could not help but proclaim my awe of the world around me. The end of May/beginning of June is the perfect time to see all the spring flowers blooming and it is just so freaking gorgeous. It was spirit fingers inducing.  (I wish I were joking.)  Despite my best efforts, it could not be captured by pictures. 

We had originally planned for a quick 6 mile hike as it was already mid afternoon by the time we reached the trailhead.  Given the scenery though we just didn't want to leave.   A few fellow hikers we met along the way mentioned that if we had the time, we had to make our way over to Druid Arch.  We had headlamps and fresh legs so we decided to go for it, effectively doubling our proposed hike and causing some hustle in our bustles.   The trail has a number of scrambles and is not for those with a fear of heights but the view is worth it.  We reached the arch just as the sun was beginning to set, changing the color of the desert rock before our eyes.  

As soon as we hydrated and munch on some snacks, we scampered back down the rocks and hurried along the trail in an effort to beat the setting sun.  With only an hour or so to cover five miles, our steps quickly became a jog keeping ourselves (and anyone within earshot) entertained by singing Disney classics and childhood camp songs.  Just as the sun slipped behind the horizon, big bertha came into view and we full out sprinted with open arms.  The heaviness of the previous weeks was lifted.  

"What makes the desert beautiful," said the little prince, "is that somewhere it hides a well."  

-- The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

notes:

in case you are interested in following our route, we parked at elephant hill and made our way to chesler park before cutting over to druid arch.  according to this handy map, the entire hike was about 12.6 miles with a fair amount of scrambling, especially as we approached the druid arch.  as with any hike (but even more so with a desert hike), be sure to bring plenty of water, snacks, and sunscreen.  there's limited shade and we never came across running water.  i carried 4 L of water.  yes, i am a camel.

we didn't have time to make our way to island in the sky or the maze while we were in canyonlands.  there are rivers in between the different sections of the park so unless you plan on hiking through you need to drive around.  as each part of the park has unique offerings, it would definitely worth be worth checking it out but just keep in mind you'll be logging some quality time in your vehicle.

relatedly, if you are driving on over to canyonlands from arches, make sure you get gas before you leave moab.  ask me how i know…