Feeds:
Posts
Comments

 “How hard to realize that every camp of men or beast has this glorious starry firmament for a roof … it is easy to realize that whatever special nests we make – leaves and moss like the marmots and birds, or tents or piled stone – we all dwell in a house of one room – the world with firmament for its roof.” –John Muir

Lake Powell — It was here that I spent my first night in my brand new RV, which I call Gypsy Lee — Photo by Pat Bean

I Chose Lake Powell’s Wahweap Campground

Make reservations or go with the flow?

The campground meets my desire for a scenic place for me and my canine traveling companion to take a pleasant walk. — Photo by Pat Bean

That’s a question often on my mind as my canine traveling companion, Pepper, and I roam the country in Gypsy Lee, our 22-foot home on wheels.

I actually do both.

Knowing I have a place to stay for the night lets me enjoy my dawdling sight-seeing ways without worry. Not having a reservation means I can go as few or as many miles as I want before stopping for the day.

There have been times when I’ve traveled as few as 15 miles before seeing an inviting place to stay and stopped. There have also been times when I’ve driven 400 miles because nothing captured my fancy – or there was nothing. I really hate the latter situation, but it’s happened to me both in Texas and New Mexico, where there are a lot of wide-open spaces with nothing appealing in between.

And Gypsy Lee, left, has a place to park with a view of the lake. — Photo by Pat Bean

What I want in a nightly roosting place is a scenic landscape, a hiking trail and internet access. I know I’ll find the first two at a state or national park, which are my favorite roosts, but the latter is iffy, especially if the campground is much distance from a populated area.

But that’s changed a lot during the eight years since I traded my Ogden, Utah, home for Gypsy Lee. I started my travels using my phone as the modem for internet connection, and often had to drive into town to make a connection. Today, I have my own Verizon hot spot and the times when I have to say “I can’t hear you” are getting fewer and fewer.

And the flowers were a bonus — Photo by Pat Bean

Since it was a weekday, I hadn’t called ahead for campground reservations the day I visited the Grand Canyon on my way to Zion National Park. Nor did I check my Trailer Life Directory for potential places to stay. I knew Lake Powell’s Wahweap Campground lay directly in path. It was the place I stayed my very first night on the road in Gypsy Lee. It had it all.

Bean’s Pat: 10,000 Birds http://tinyurl.com/6ogapq3Go birding in Namibia.  

*This pat-on-the-back recognition is merely this wandering/wondering old broad’s way of bringing attention to a blog I enjoyed – and thought perhaps my readers might, too. June 12, patbean.wordpress.com

 “Man’s heart away from nature becomes hard.” – Standing Bear

One Last Vista for the Road

The Grand Canyon vista from Desert View — Photo by Pat Bean

The distance between the Grand Canyon’s south entrance, where I entered the park, and its east entrance, where I exited, is only about 30 miles. It took me about five hours to make the journey.

It’s so easy to drink in the Grand Canyon’s vista that sometimes we forget to look at the smaller parts that make up the whole. I try not to forget. — Photo by Pat Bean

Five hours of magic when I left all the worries of the world behind and simply let myself enjoy the wonders of nature’s artistic hand. What a grand canvas she has created.

I don’t know how people exist in today’s chaotic world without visiting Mother Nature’s museums often.

It seems, however, that I’m merely echoing the thoughts of another writer who felt the same way during an era that to me seems far less hectic than today’s world.

Wrote Hamlin Garland in 1899: “I remember a hundred lovely lakes, and recall the fragrant breath of pine and fir and cedar and poplar trees. The trail has strung upon it, as upon a thread of silk, opalescent dawns and saffron sunsets. It has given me blessed release from care and worry and the troubled thinking of our modern day. It has been a return to the primitive and the peaceful. Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and benumbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me – I am happy.”

Bean’s Pat: Kristen Lamb’s Blog http://tinyurl.com/cvto554 How to become a stronger writer. Good advice for serious writers. 

*This pat-on-the-back recognition is merely this wandering/wondering old broad’s way of bringing attention to a blog I enjoyed – and thought perhaps my readers might, too. June 11, patbean.wordpress.com

 

 “The lack of power to take joy in outdoor nature is as real a misfortune as the lack of power to take joy in books.” Theodore Roosevelt

Desert View Watchtower — Photo by Pat Bean

360 Degrees of Awesome

Mary Coulter’s Desert View Watchtower that overlooks the Grand Canyon near the east entrance to the national park looks older than it is.

It was built in 1932 to resemble an ancient Pueblo Indians’ watchtower, but on a larger scale.

I think it fits into the landscape well, as do Coulter’s other Grand Canyon buildings that include the Phantom Ranch buildings on the canyon floor and Hermit’s Rest, a rustic lookout structure at the western edge of the Rim Trail.

Born in 1869, Coulter was a rare female architect for her time. The four buildings she designed for the Grand Canyon now all have National Historic Landmark designations.

A climb up the 85 stair steps is worth the effort just for the view. — Photo by Pat Bean

I braved the jam of people in the tower’s ground-floor gift shop to climb the 85 steps that narrowly wind to the stop of the tower. My reward was a 360-degree, panoramic view of the canyon, and the surrounding high desert.

It doesn’t get much better than that.

Bean’s Pat: Comfort Me With Ice Cream http://tinyurl.com/7plaftb Although circumstances may be different, I can relate, although for me it’s Ben and Jerry’s (Anywhere), Farr’s (Utah), or Blue Bell (Texas) that provides the comfort. 

*This pat-on-the-back recognition is merely this wandering/wondering old broad’s way of bringing attention to a blog I enjoyed – and thought perhaps my readers might, too. June 9, patbean.wordpress.com

“I talk to him when I’m lonsome like; and I’m sure he understands. When he looks at me most attentively, and gently licks my hands; then he  rubs his nose on my tailored clothes, but I never say naught thereat. For the good Lord knows I can buy more clothers, but never a friend like that.” — W. Dayton Wedgefarth.

Friends

My grandson, David, and two of his best friends. Scout and Levi. I didn’t take this picture, but it’s one of my favorites. I think my son, D.C. took it.

 “What makes a river so restful to people is that it doesn’t have any doubt – it is sure where it is going, and it doesn’t want to go anywhere else.” – Hal Boyle

A mile below me flowed the Colorado River — and in it flowed a treasure chest of my memories. — Photo by Pat Bean

Memories of the Canyon Floor

If I could see the rapid from a mile away, it had to be one of the big ones. I wondered which? — Photo by Pat Bean

While there’s no bad view of the Grand Canyon, I must admit that my heart beat a little faster whenever the viewpoint allowed me a peak at the Colorado River a mile below.

I rafted that same river twice, once in 1991 when I paddled my way through it in a small six-man raft, and once in 1999, when I was oared through it in a larger raft by someone else’s hand.

In all, I’ve spent a total of 32 days at the canyon’s bottom. The first trip ranks No. 1 of all my adventures, including an African Safari (No. 2) and jumping out of an airplane (No. 3). Yes, I know, I’m an adrenalin junkie, or at least I was.

Ravens haunted every overlook where I stopped to view the canyon this day, just as they had haunted every camp site on the river below. This bold one that didn’t move off at my approach reminded me of the one that had stolen my tube of toothpaste on one of my Colorado River rafting trips through the Grand Canyon. — Photo by Pat Bean

I’m just as happy these days going for a quiet canoe ride on a gentle river – or doing as I was this day, stopping at every overlook along the Grand Canyon’s Desert View Drive.

Each time my stop included a view of the river, memories of the time I spent on it flooded out of my memory bank to be relived.

Once again I was holding onto the paddle boat from the water side in terror after Granite Rapid claimed me for its own. Or I was lying on my back on a beach, staring up at a slim sliver of sky watching the stars drift past.

I remembered awakening to the song of a canyon wren, and drinking in the peace of the silence that always marked the first half hour of our daily time on the river.  I emerged at the end of both 16-day trips a different person than the one who began it. More peaceful, more knowing who I was, more understanding what is important in life.

Today, that was simply spending time with the south rim of the Grand Canyon.

Bean’s Pat: http://thismansjourney.net/ Rhythm of the Waves. I love Galveston, and wave watching.

 *This pat-on-the-back recognition is merely this wandering/wondering old broad’s way of bringing attention to a blog I enjoyed – and thought perhaps my readers might, too. June 7, patbean.wordpress.com

“The grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never dried all at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.” – John Muir

 

A grand view of the Grand Canyon from Grandview Point. — Photo by Pat Bean

 

And What Once Was Is No More

All about the Grand View Hotel. — Photo by Pat Bean

If you had visited the Grand Canyon in 1898 to see if it was as grand as had been reported, you would have seen the landscape as it is pictured above. Oh I’m sure things have shifted a bit since then, but all the major peaks and valleys, rock profiles and water routes are still there.

You would have probably made the 12-hour bone-jarring trip from Flagstaff to see the scenery for yourself in a stagecoach. And you would have probably stayed in Pete Berry’s Grand View Hotel, which he built in 1897 after mining in the canyon didn’t pay off. You might even have ridden one of Pete’s Mules partway down into the canyon itself.

And all about Pete’s Last Chance copper mine. — Photo by Pat Bean

Shortly after the turn of the century, however, you would have probably taken the Santa Fe Railway into Grand Canyon Village and let your breath gasp in wonder at the landscape 11 miles west of this spot.

Just as Route 66, which I had just traveled, bypassed so many other wonderful places, the railroad bypassed the Grandview.

You have to look really hard to find any traces of Pete’s entrepreneur efforts, although the trail he took tourists down still exists and is still used today. But the grand view is still here, and still awesome.

Bean’s Pat: Bird Light Wind http://birdlightwind.com/ Grand view of red-tailed hawks. 

*This pat-on-the-back recognition is merely this wandering/wondering old broad’s way of bringing attention to a blog I enjoyed – and thought perhaps my readers might, too. June 6, patbean.wordpress.com

 

 

“The wonders of the Grand Canyon cannot be adequately represented in symbols of speech, not by speech itself. The resources of the graphic art are taxed beyond their powers in attempting to portray its features. Language and illustration combined must fail.” John Wesley Powell

The view and the viewers at the Grand Canyon’s Mather Point. — Photo by Pat Bean

The Long Way to Page

I left Flagstaff early, my destination being Page, Arizona, just 135 miles away. My route, however, turned it into a 215-mile journey because I planned to drive along the south rim of the Grand Canyon.

One, at least in my book, doesn’t miss an opportunity to see one of Mother’s Nature’s miracles simply because it adds miles to a journey. I would stint myself of something else to cover the extra cost of gas.

The drive north from Flagstaff took me through the Coconino and Kaibab national forests, sometimes in view of majestic mountain peaks. I opened my RV window occasionally to drink in the scent of pine wafting through the air on this glorious May day.

As one who has twice rafted the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon, I have extreme respect for Powell’s journey without the aid of rubber rafts and life jackets. This was one of the displays at the visitor center. — Photo by Pat Bean

My canine traveling companion, Pepper, alternated between looking out the window at the scenery and watching me. Both of us, I think, were taking the opportunity to savor the journey. 

It came as a jolt to my system when I entered the parking lot of the park’s visitor center near the south entrance. This was a gathering spot for all the park’s visitors, and while the vast parking lots weren’t full, they were far from empty this day. There were more people here than I had seen my entire trip so far.

I quickly checked out the visitor center and then joined the other travelers gawking down at the canyon from Mather’s Point before hurrying back to my RV and Pepper. She greeted me as if I had been gone the millions of years it had taken Mother Nature to form the canyon.

The canyon still takes your breath away, I told her, then gave her a treat before we continued our adventure.

Bean’s Pat: A Butterfly’s Kingdom http://serenityspell.com A place to visit if you’re ever in South Florida. My favorite among the awesome photographs on this blog was the piano key butterfly. 

*This recognition is merely this wandering/wondering old broad’s way of bringing attention to a blog I enjoyed – and thought perhaps my readers might, too. The Pat on the back is presented with no strings attached. June 5, patbean.wordpress.com

 “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” – Dr. Seuss

Flagstaff, Not as I remembered

This cheerful seating area at the Flagstaff KOA reinforced my inclination to simply sit quiet for a while. — Photo by Pat Bean

Flagstaff still remembers Route 66 in all its glory. No crumbling, run-down remains in this elevated city, whose 6,920-foot elevation lets it nestle comfortably among 12,000-foot peaks. Flagstaff – which incidentally got its name from a flagpole made by a scouting party from Boston on July 4, 1876, to celebrate this country’s centennial – even holds an annual festival in September to celebrate the Mother Road.

I observed many signs and buildings as I made my way down the old highway through the town that loudly announced to travelers that Route 66 had passed this way.

Of course I never stop birdwatching. And this raven obligingly posed for a photograph. — Photo by Pat Bean

I had meant to explore some of them, to walk among Route 66 landmarks, hearing Nat King Cole in my head singing Bobby Troup’s “Get Your Kicks on Route 66.”

But I didn’t.

 Flagstaff wasn’t the quiet town I remembered from past visits. Today it seemed like people and traffic were everywhere. After my drive through the town, my canine traveling companion, Pepper, and I took Highway 89 heading north out of town and checked into the Flagstaff KOA.

And there Pepper and I stayed for the rest of the day and the next day, our sightseeing limited to what we could see in the large rustic park and on a short nature trail that we hiked several times a day.

It simply felt like the right thing to do at the time.

Bean’s Pat: http://inaroomofmyown.wordpress.com/  Girls Just Wanna Have Fun – writing! This one’s for the writers among us. 

*This recognition is merely this wandering/wondering old broad’s way of bringing attention to a blog I enjoyed – and thought perhaps my readers might, too. The Pat on the back is presented with no strings attached. June 2, patbean.wordpress.com

“We seem to be going through a period of nostalgia, and everyone seems to think yesterday was better than today.  I don’t think it was, and I would advise you not to wait ten years before admitting today was great.  If you’re hung up on nostalgia, pretend today is yesterday and just go out and have one hell of a time.”   ~Art Buchwald

The Beginning of a New Day

Today — How could it have started any better? — Photo by Pat Bean

Early Morning on  Lake Walcott

It’s days like this that I don’t mind my canine traveling companion, Pepper, waking me up early for a walk. — Photo by Pat Bean

 “For fossils to thrive, certain favorable circumstances are required. First of all, of course, remnants of life have to be there. These then need to be washed over with water as soon as possible, so that the bones are covered with a layer of sediment.” – Richard Leakey

Hard to believe that this creature’s bones are over 200 million years old. — Photo by Pat Bean

The Bones of the Matter

It stands to reason that if conditions are right for ancient trees to be preserved, other things in the landscape will also be preserved.

 

Flowers weren’t plentiful in the Painted Desert. The landscape wasn’t encouraging for them, which is why this small patch of yellow stood out so dramatically. — Photo by Pat Bean

And of course they were, as evidenced by the dinosaur skeletons on display at the Rainbow Forest Museum, which sadly would be my final stop before exiting Petrified Forest National Park.

As dinosaurs go, well if you compare them to Sue, the Chicago Field Museum’s gigantic T-Rex, the ones that lived in this ancient forest, were on the dinky side.

The dinosaurs found here belong to the Triassic Period, the late dawn of the dinosaurs, according to the park’s fact sheets.

Two more ancient dinosaur skeletons. — Photo by Pat Bean

These human-sized dinosaurs shared the landscape, which back them was dominated by a huge river running through it, with phytosaurs and rauisuchians, words that sent me running for my dictionary. Crocodile-like is the best definition I could come up with.

Triassic, another word that left me wondering, refers to the period on earth that existed 200 to 250 million years ago.

Now, just as the age of dinosaurs had come and gone, it was time for me to leave the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest and continue traveling down the road. Flagstaff was awaiting me.

Bean’s Pat: Wistfully Wandering http://wistfullywandering.wordpress.comTake an armchair hike in Grand Teton National Park. I can’t believe I’ve missed this one.  

*This recognition is merely this wandering/wondering old broad’s way of bringing attention to a blog I enjoyed – and thought perhaps my readers might, too. The Pat on the back is presented with no strings attached. May 25, patbean.wordpress.com