Iowa; before I left, that was the furthest west I'd ever been.
My whole life had been spent on the East Coast, kindergarten, college, and now, my professional life, and right before I left I was in the capital of all things East Coast, New York City.
In the middle of what my friends called my "quarter-life crisis", I felt trapped. Physically and mentally. If you've lived in NYC, you know what I'm talking about. If not, it goes like this. The city has an amazing energy, you feel like you can do anything, opportunities are around every corner, all you have to do is reach out. But, with every high there is a low. Ironically, while you see potential all around, you can't help but feel trapped by that same city. At first, the promises glitter, but when honeymoon wears off, they vanish. You fight for a seat on the subway, carry heavy grocery bags home by hand, wait for tables at restaurants, every step is a battle. Constant noise swirls around you. Honking horns, yelling people, loud engines, they reverberate down the concrete canyons blocking out everything, even your own thoughts. Never calm enough for a deep breathe or a quite moment. This was wearing on me. Add to the mix, I'd been working non-stop for four years, barely taking a vacation from the intense world of buy-side trading. I was mentally and physically trapped. I needed to run free.
There's a great tradition of heading west in American culture. Pioneers, settlers, even business – Silicon Valley was started in the 50's, and at the time, Santa Clara was no more than two buildings and farmland. If I wanted to feel free, reset, I needed to go west as well, and I needed to do it right. I picked out a route. Three major cities, five national parks, and 1400 miles of asphalt. A road trip. Wind in my hair, open road, big trees, big canyons, big dessert, and big sky, if I couldn't feel free there, I never would.
I picked up a copy of "Buddhism Without Beliefs", the essential sidekick for everyone's existential crisis and period of extreme reflection. I packed my bags. Before I left, one of my roommates joked, maybe I'd pull a Don Draper and never come back. Thinking seriously about what he said, I got on a plane. I began in San Francisco.
San Fransisco
Day 1 & 2
I caught up with an old friend, walked plenty of hills, and was really surprised how randomly sketchy parts of the city were. All things considered, it's a pretty odd place, and after only one day, the quote on my hotel room wall made all the sense in the world.
The second day I went up to Golden Gate Park and the beach. While not a major tourist destination, seeing the Pacific for the first time was awesome for me. I've been going to beaches up and down the East Coast all my life, but seeing the cliffs of the "Wild Pacific" was something else. Untamed, rebellious, it was nothing like the beaches and wetlands of the east. I felt something good there. Sitting on a cliff, I watched the surf for some amount of time I still can't recall.
Returning from the beach, I was ready to leave the city and get started. This was the end of my second day, and it was time to get the real journey underway. I went to pick up the rental car. While waiting for Josh's plane to arrive, I took a pit-stop in Pacifica to watch the waves and see one of those California sunsets for myself, feeling strangely fine.
Yosemite
Day 3 &4
When 8 a.m rolled around, I was happy to be alive. The night before, Josh's flight got in late, and I was tired. I spent four hours fending off sleep with all my might as we drove through the darkness. I chugged a colossal Red Bull, something I never do, and still, I was drifting asleep. Thankfully we made it to Yosemite, pulling in around 3 AM, and now, despite it being only a few hours later, we were awake and ready to hike.
After hearty American breakfast, a staple of our time out West, we made for the Vernal and Sierra Falls. California was in a massive drought, not just this year, but for the last four; this year, though, was the worst. There was barley any snow to melt. Most of Yosemite's great waterfalls had run dry, but these two, we were told, still clung to life.
Being in Yosemite, the mecca of rock climbing, we had to take advantage of our surroundings. I signed us up for a crack climbing class; I mean, how could we not? This wasn't my first time, but it certainly was the most legit. After a day clinging to hot granite slabs, shoving and twisting my appendages into gaps in the rock, and of course, using every ounce of strength I had to prevent myself from falling, I can tell you that rock climbing is not gonna be one my things. I love to be active, but there is a difference between being active and clinging on for dear life. No thanks.
Returning our climbing gear, we grabbed our stuff, and after 2 days in Yosemite, continued on our way. You could easily spend a week there, but with rock climbing and doing one of the best hikes outside of Half Dome, we felt confident we'd done well. Making one last stop to take some pictures, we headed to the Fresno for the night, first charting a course for In & Out, and our hotel, second.
Sequoia
Day 5
Fire trucks whizzed by us. King's Canyon Park was closed due to a massive forest fire, and we were driving right for it. The hills surrounding Fresno were golden brown. Dead grass. The Central Valley was marred by drought. As we got higher into the mountains, smoke and ash filled the morning air. In the valley it was dry, but up in the mountains, the forest burned, threatening ancient Sequoia groves within. Ash, carried by the wind, sprinkled down as we passed the entrance of King's Canyon and headed south to Sequoia.
I couldn't fit an entire tree in a single shot.
Sequoias are the the largest living organisms on the planet by volume and only grow at high elevations in the Sierras. Their coastal cousins, redwoods, which, although taller, don't possess the thickness of their shorter relatives.
More interesting than their size is their relationship to fire. Turns out, Facebook's "it's complicated" relationship status sums it up quite well, it's not dysfunctional, just love-hate. Fires clear away debris on the forest floor, providing a way for the Sequoias' seeds to reach the soil. It gets better. The cones have evolved to release seeds when they feel the heat of a blaze below them, and as a final trick, the Sequoias' sap is actually fire resistant! That prevents them from turning into the worlds largest torches. Scorched trunks were everywhere, sometimes even burnt out, but the tree above was thriving. Fire and sequoias make it work, despite fire being a big jerk-face.
Can you see me?
All great things have small beginnings.
Alright, that's enough trees. Before setting out for Bakersfield, and of course In & Out, we stopped by Moro Rock to get a look at the Sierras.
Death Valley
Day 6 & 7
“On a dark desert highway, cool wind my hair...”
Nothing, not even the wind. That's the thing that strikes you most about the desert. Sound. After seeing granite mountains, and great forests, it was time for the emptiness and heat of the desert. This was the world I was most looking forward to seeing. What better place to find yourself than in a complete void?
We began with the greatest example of absolute desolation and extreme heat. Death Valley, Furnace Creek, Stovepipe Wells; all lived up to their names. The drive from Bakersfield was long and empty. On the way, we pulled off to the side of the road. Looking out on the valley just west of our destination, we walked down the hillside and had lunch. Staring out into the empty depression, the intense heat muffled the sounds around us. Our drive was barren, but this was a different sort of empty. Rusty beer cans scattered the ground, and jugging from their style, they'd couldn't be younger than fifty years, and not a hundred yards away, a car that drove off the road sometime in the 40's sat abandoned. Left to elements. We were half expecting to find a skeleton in the driver seat.
In Death Valley it actually got up to 115.
The heat felt like a brick wall, and upon getting out of the car and instantly my stomach felt queasy. The sign when we pulled in said "Stovepipe Wells", a most accurate name. We ran for the A/C. On my way out to the car, I dropped by the water fountain, and after getting my fill, held it down for a pint-sized bird, just trying to get a drink as well. I got your back, little buddy.
After lunch we drove down into, and then, across the valley. Finally we made it up the other side, taking much longer than we thought it would. Climbing the final hill that separated us from Death Valley, warning signs read, "turn off you A/C", so that our car would not overheat. Almost at the top, we couldn't take it, and put it back on. Now, we were at the bottom of the hill, and the top didn't seem so bad after all. 110 degrees. I let go of the fountain and my little friend flew off. Shortly after, so did we.
Our first stop was Scotty's Castle. When I closed my eyes, listening to Hotel California, this is what I saw. In the lower 48, Death Valley is the largest national park. Its vastness is hard to grasp. The desolation is like a mirage, you see something in the distance, and it takes hours to get there. Driving for hours on its roads, we grew to appreciate how large and lonely this valley really is. I don't know who did it, Josh maybe, but I was thinking it too. I don't know how long it actually took us, first to Ubehebe Crater, then hiking the dunes, the desert baking at 115 degrees, passed two abandoned rangers stations, and finally, sunset at Zabriskie Point, but I never got tired of hearing Hotel California and a select few Eagles songs on repeat. It seemed, to the both off us, most appropriate.
Only you can prevent forest fires!
7 AM and already 95 degrees. Perfect hiking weather! Sort of.
Last night, as Ranger Rick and I were winding down from a long day in the car, intermingled with short forays into the oven outside, I determined night here wasn't much better. Too hot to sit under the stars and enjoy a rocking chair, the temperature was still in the triple digits hours after sunset. Thus, it was with great haste we ate our breakfast, packed up the car, and hit the road.
Our plan was to fit in hour long hike, checking out the Golden Canyon, before it went from hot to disco inferno. The rest of the morning would be comprised of short stops, Artist's Palate, Devils Golf Course, and the Badwater (hottest place on earth). By 10:30 we'd be on the road to Vegas, the halfway point, where we'd meet up with my buddy from high school. The next morning, Josh would fly back east, Pete and I would push forward into Utah.
On our way to Vegas, I wanted to check out the Mojave. I'll be back.
Vegas
Upon our arrival to the land of slot machines and escort flyers, Josh and I stopped for lunch, at, you guessed it, In & Out. We got to the hotel and found Pete, already settled in, had upgraded us a suite and was fast at working making new friends by the pool.
I wasn't a fan of Vegas. After the lunar landscape of Death Valley, and the proceeding days the seeing some of the greatest vistas the world has to offer, the gaudiness of literally everything rubbed me the wrong way. The next morning, I woke-up Pete at 6:30. We hit McDonald's across the street for a nutritious breakfast packed with all the essential vitamins and minerals, two large iced coffees, and got the hell out of Dodge. Our next stop was, for me, the most anticipated stop of the journey. I couldn't wait.
Zion
Day 8 & 9
Desert Pearl Inn
The nicest place we stayed, and certainly the most beautiful, the Desert Pearl Inn, situated in Zion Canyon, was less then a 1/4 mile South from the park entrance. It had a great pool, hot tub, and view, a great place for Pete to sit back and relax on the third day of our visit. Why just Pete? That was the day I'd be at Cowboy Camp! Not something Pete was interested in.
Six people have died hiking this trail since 2004. That's what the sign.
After a late lunch, we took the shuttle to Zion's most infamous trail, Angel's Landing. Pete wasn't fully aware of what I signed us up for, only thing he knew was that we were going on a hike. I had told him many times, but for some reason I didn't think he really listened to me. Then he saw the sign, and looked up.
The first section was surprisingly brutal, a slow climb of endless switchbacks, who's slope never yielded. Quads burning we reached a resting spot, and we lost the smiles. The second part was something else entirely. High above the canyon floor stood two narrow camel humps made of sandstone. Even the river wanted nothing to do with them, bending in an oxbow along its eastern edge, just out of reach. At the summit of the second mount was the landing. Now we were a little scared. I have a fear of heights, which frankly everyone does, and looking out at the rest of the "trail" my stomach felt a little weak. I did my research, but I wasn't expecting this. We resolved to go at least halfway.
One foot after another I kept saying, thinking twice about each step. By the final ascent, my fear of heights was gone. Scared shitless, I had nothing left to give, and the adrenaline was flowing. The hike, though certainly not a walk in the park, wasn't the hard part. What makes this bad boy so scary is the sheer exposure plays mind games with you. Its actually hard to believe this is a trail at a US National Park. Less then a foot away from a severe drop-off, a trip or a fall would kill you.
Pete was freaking out hard. I could hear how nervous he was, and even after we agreed to move forward at the halfway point, he could have turned back just as easily. His burning concentration, focusing hard on each step, was palpable. We got this, that was our mantra as we neared the finish. Several panic attacks later we were at the top. We probably sounded ridiculous on the way up. Whatever, dude, we made it! The hike was exhilarating, and my fear of heights got the shit kicked out of it. And the view? See for yourself.
Basking in our glory, strong winds were being funneled through the canyon, sweeping across the slanted stone preach of the landing. Pete issued an ultimatum, I thoroughly agreed, and after twenty minutes with the angels, it was time we returned to earth. Full of bravado, we snapped a few shots of our story's fearless adventurers, heading for less precarious footholds. That night, very glad to be eating something other the In & Out, we feasted on Mexican food, and celebrated with margaritas! A well earned meal.
Springdale, UT at dusk.
Slipping and sliding we made our way up the Narrows. Supporting myself with a rented walking stick, my feet moved thoughtfully over the smooth rocks, ankles twisting and turning. Most hikes are on a trail. This one, straight up the Virgin River, the canyon walls closing in on the sides. Looking of a dryer end to our day, we concluded with a hike to the Emerald Pools, this time on a trail, before retiring to our balcony, where Pete severed up gin and tonics.
The bartender himself enjoying the view from our balcony, and probably issuing some ridiculous statement.
Cowboy Camp
Day 10
And now, for the most anticipated part of the trip, Cowboy Camp!! I've always wanted to ride a horse. Not on a trail or something, but haul ass like a bat out of hell. Well, I did the research and I found a place that would let me. On the site it said...
"Racing. A dead run... Kentucky derby! Take your blood pressure medicine first or 2 shots of Jack Daniels will suffice."
Sold. Knowing I would be doing this, and it probably wasn't an experience that Pete wanted, the Desert Pearl provided a great place to rest and chill by the pool. Win-Win. I grabbed an early breakfast and was on my way.
When I got there, Clay our wrangler for the day came complete with a single action Colt 45, just like the ones in Cowboy movies, or you know, history.
First time in the saddle.
Clay took us up to the stable, listed off a 18 or so horses and their personalities, then turned to me and asked which one I wanted. Looking for guidance, I needed a suggestion. He put me with Rebel. I asked why and Clay said,
"Well, you wanted to run, the trick with Rebel is to get him to stop running".
He seemed docile enough when working him in the pen, and then while using another type of pen to sign my life away. Soon after, we saddled up and hit the trail.
In what could have been my last picture ever.
We started out. I got a brief lesson in walking, trotting, and looping. During this time, nothing to led me to believe that Rebel possessed an untamable demeanor. In fact, he was the best behaved in the entire bunch. 20 minutes in, we came upon a makeshift track.
It was show time. Clay pulled off as lead horse, and instructed me to give it a whirl.
Now, I didn't quite understand the gravity of this moment until I got back to New York. Talking with several people who'd been riding horses for years, I learned this a swift progression indeed.
I let up on the reigns, and with an open trail in front of him, Rebel finally showed me his true colors. There was no need to coax. We started up, then suddenly he made a hard right, taking us off the track and into the brush. I was terrified. Not only had it been 20 minutes since first saddling up, but we were now definitely off track, dodging bushes and tree branches. I was too scared for my life to flash before my eyes. Frankly that phrase is bullshit. In my limited experience a stupid face is all I get. That, and time slows to a crawl.
The moment stretched into eternity, in reality, it was only 10 seconds. Probably less. Some where in all this, I brought Rebel to a stop. OK let's be fair, he decided to stop. I whipped him around and started back toward Clay. My legs felt weak, they had a pretty good shake going. I was laughing. Adrenaline. That wouldn't be the last of it.
I started out again. With each run I built up more and more confidence. It was essential I collect some evidence. Many knew I was doing this, and I was pretty sure none of them were going to believe me. Clay took my phone and was able to capture some awesome shots throughout the day.
After lunch, we headed out to the main part of the ride. I learned to run up and down hills, and negotiated Rebel across new terrain.
This sequence was especially stupendous. Clay really nailed it. These several shots capture Rebel and I charging up a hill.
Riding there was an amazing experience. I felt so free, especially in the wide open Utah desert. As the day progressed and my skill improved, I wanted another shot at going all out. According to Clay, I got him up to a gallup, gear 5. If I wanted to get him to gear 6, I would need to administer a kick in the side.
In the last hour of our ride, we got to the spot where I could let Rebel rip. I was given instructions, turn right before the barbed wire fence, then stop at the hill with the white stuff.
"Hold on, I wasn't able to stop him before when I had a perfectly strait track in front of me. This is open desert. You guys go ahead, that way I can see where to go".
"Alright, but you'll have to hold him back. I've seen him fly on this part, and if he sees us going, he's gonna bolt."
They started out down the trail and Rebel did not like that one bit. Pulling back on the reigns with serious force wasn't doing anything, so I grab the left side of his bridal, yanking his head left so he'd spin himself out. But that didn't work. We just started to spin down the trail.
"Fuck it."
After 25 yards like this with no end in sight I let up on the reigns. "Ride like the wind Rebel". Pretty corny, but yeah, I that's what said. There was a brief pause, maybe a second. I'm pretty sure he was dizzy from the spinning. Then he hit the accelerator and jumped into a full gallup. I kicked him. "Heah!"
You know when the Millennium Falcon jumps into light-speed? That was the feeling. My hat flew off. Clinging to my neck it whipped violently in the wind. I saw the barbed wire, pulled hard right and started barreling down on my unsuspecting party with a full head of steam. At first, I tried to slow him, but realizing this was not going to happen, I did my best to steer clear as we rocketed by. Hearing us bearing down on them, Clay whipped around in his saddle and was able to snap a few action shots as it all unfolded.
You can probably see my smile all the way back at the hotel.
Trying to stop...
And now, realizing we will not be stopping, and embracing the madness.
Flying passed them, we came to a stop on top of a hill with, would you believe it, "white stuff" on top. Well, Rebel stopped, I almost didn't. And thus concluded my dead-run, and I certainly needed a drink.
We rode back to the ranch, and soon after I returned to the hotel. I was told anytime you want to come back, just bring a gun, and you can take Rebel out for the day. There's a local town ordinance requiring residents to carry a firearm. I got to say, when I make it back to Zion, I will be taking them up on that offer. It was an incredible ride and was everything I wanted it to be.
I rejoined Pete, had a much needed drink, hit the hot tub, and watched the sun set on Zion Canyon one last time. These 3 days were by far the best part of the trip, but there was still more to come.
Bryce
Day 11 & 12
One last view.
Time to go. It was Saturday morning of Labor Day weekend, which meant that everyone and their mother was about to arrive at Zion. We took in one last slow breakfast on our balcony, soaking up all of its magnificence before we, once again, loaded up the car up and hit the road. Our path would take us thorough Zion and out the eastern side of the park, catching one last hike as we left.
Missing the turnoff for the trail, we pulled to the side of the road at a scenic point close to the park exit. Far from the crowds and at the edge of Zion, it was the best detour all trip. Pete exited the car first, walking down into the brush. We spent the next hour exploring the area below our impromptu stop. With cars and people out of site, we began a period of uninhibited exploration. Wandering in dried up river beds, climbing sandstone walls, just taking in the world around us. There was no trail to follow.
Something about that moment was really special. I kept thinking back to my ride yesterday. Not the part where I was flying, but when I led the group as we wandered through the brush. That's what we were doing now, wandering. Strangely, even our triumphant ascent up Angel's Landing couldn't compare to this feeling. All trip, we were at national parks; we were on paths. Following a trail is, in the end, following. This was different. A feeling I wouldn't soon forget. It was normal to be awed by nature, I mean, these are national parks for a reason, I wasn't surprised by that. What I'm talking about is traveling without a trail; really exploring. Climbing halfway up a two hundred feet up a sandstone wall. The same creek bed below was, to me, far better than any of Yosemite's vistas. A moment of clarity.
Slowly finding our way back to the car, we continued on to Bryce, in no particular hurry. The next hour, we passed huge stone monuments, and I quietly thought about that dried out creek bed. Not following a trail was liberating.
It's strange to think, this was higher than Yosemite. Bryce point was just shy of Half Dome's peak, but far above Yosemite Valley, which looked the part of a high altitude destination, surrounded by massive granite walls. Surveying out over the vast Utah expanse, perfectly flat mesas in the distance, we walked the rim of the canyon. Bryce was famous for its night sky, and eating a light dinner, we watched the setting sun extend its final rays on the great sandstone pillars to the east. With darkness taking hold, we finished dinner, and taking our seats just down the hill behind us, attended the Star Talk. In almost perfect darkness we walked toward the visitor center. There, telescopes were arranged for our use, each point at various celestial bodies. They were not needed. A number of stars, so great, I'd only seen in photographs, seared the clear night. The very definition of magnificent.
All you horoscope enthusiasts out there, prepare to have your minds blown. At the Star Talk, we learned that, as we know them, what we consider the dates of astrological signs are incorrect. The signs were conceived thousands of years ago, and although based on actual celestial alignments, it turns out we have the dates wrong. The earth wobbles on its axis, and at one point thousands of years ago, Vega used to be the North Star, not Polaris as it is today. What does that mean? Since the dates we never updated, your sign might not be your real sign. There's a big difference between being born in the last hundred years and more than three thousand years ago! Here's the cold hard truth.
If you feel an identity crisis coming on, just remember, it's all made up anyway!
The next morning we hit the trail, this time descending into the canyon for 6 hours of hiking. With spectacular weather and perfect clouds, we couldn't have asked for more stunning views.
This next shot is one of my favorites from the trip. Pete and I veered off-trail at one point to explore a little. This is him running along the ridge line leading us somewhere deep into the canyon.
My feet were finished. They'd been getting used and abused for two weeks. Around 2 PM, we got in the car and set out for Salt Lake City, our final port of call. Arriving that night, we stayed at the Peery Hotel, which boasts itself as the oldest hotel in Salt Lake. Seeing as our western adventure was at an end, it only seemed logical that we stay in an establishment reminiscent of the Old West.
Mormon Temple
Park City/The Bird
Day 13
Labor Day had arrived and so had the last day of my adventure. Pete was up before the sun and caught and early flight out. I would be on the red-eye later that night. Six months before I was skiing Utah, and I wanted to check out the slopes when they weren't so monochromatic. I made my way towards Park City and upon my morning arrival, soon found myself in the middle of their Labor Day festivities.
The best wash-your-hands sign I've seen.
I spent the morning watching the parade, reading and walking around town, grabbing a beer and burger at the No Name Saloon. By noon I was heading back to Salt Lake. I picked up my buddy living in there, and we made for Snowbird and its annual Oktoberfest in Little Cottonwood Canyon. One of my favorite mountains, and with it being a whiteout last time I was there, I was anxious to see more than a hundred feet in front of my face. This time, clear skies. Not a bad way to end a trip. Some beer, German food, and a sweet views from 12,000 feet.
“[Freedom] may break into our lives at any time, whether we seek it or not, enabling us to glimpse a reality that is simultaneously more familiar and more elusive than anything we have ever known, in which we find ourselves both profoundly alone and profoundly connected to everything.”
My Awakening
Angels didn't sing. Light didn't shine and pierce my soul. There was no moment of pure ecstasy, during which I proclaimed from a mountain top, I have been found! Life is more subtle than Hollywood. Walking in a dusty creek bed, shielded by sandstone walls and craggy trees, I realized, I'd forgotten all about the outside world. The madness of NYC, the pressures of my job, for the life of me I couldn't stir up a single anxiety. And up until that moment, I was too busy looking at the amazing natural world to notice, at no point did my real life troubles cross my mind. The freedom I sought came without my knowing.
Freedom is a mindset. The trip, although amazing, was not the answer; it was a jolt that presented the answer. Feeling free is just as attainable walking down 5th Avenue as it is perched high above Zion. You don't need to travel 3,000 miles to find it. Without a doubt I can say, since returning to the East Coast, I've been living better. That's not to say everything is hunky-dory. NYC is as challenging as ever; some things never change, but my perspective did.
That brings me to my other self-discovery. Riding through the desert and wandering in the creek bed made clear what I really wanted from life. I like to explore, away from the crowd and guidance of the path. I love the feeling of adventure and all emotions that come with it; excitement, fear, exhilaration, and finally at its end, genuine satisfaction. I got a feeling this has only just begun...
“Take it easy, take it easy, don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy.
Lighten-up while you still can, don’t even try to understand;
Just find a place to take your stand, and take it easy...”