Zye-uhn not Zye-ON

Glacier National Park is wonderful. There's really no comparison to it. It is, and will always be, my favorite place. BUT...my first love is southern Utah. Arches, Bryce Canyon, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, and Zion National Parks. I explored them long before I explored northwest Montana. 

I'm finally going back. It's been far too long. The highlight will no doubt be the Subway...a spectacular hike in Zion. It'll be my 6th time through. I'm so, so, so very excited. Here are a few clips from my last time through...almost 4 years ago. Good friends, good time. 

Be back in a week. Later.

Wizard Cat

Scared Yet?

Just after Halloween, I always seem to hear people remark, "Are they advertising Christmas already?" It doesn't take stores more than a day to create the Christmas "spirit" by taking down the Halloween displays and erecting the Christmas ones. Still, it's never seemed that odd to me. But Halloween preparations in mid-August?

I was driving home late last night and passed this giant inflatable pumpkin on top of a Halloween store near the mall. We've still got a month of summer left. It was 80 degrees at 11:30 last night in Boise. The pumpkin seemed horribly out of place. Are we really trying to get into the Halloween spirit in the heat of the summer? 

Seems strange...no?

Leftovers

I never wrote much about my recent trip to Glacier. In the absence of anything else of substance...here you go. 

The above photo is perhaps the lamest summit photo I've ever taken. I'm on top of Elk Mountain in the southwest portion of the park. You don't hear much about Elk Mountain. I've never seen any description of it in any trail books. You can see the trail on a topo map but good luck trying to find out any other information about it. The only reason I knew it existed is because I passed by the trail junction on a previous backcountry trip. I remembered it because of the distance on the sign. Elk Mountain - 2.5 miles. That's not very far to go for a summit. But my camping buddies and I were exhausted on that first trip and there was no way we were going to hike it. So I kept it on file in the back of my mind. This time around...I went for it. Now I know why the distance is so short. It's, by far, the steepest trail I've ever been on in the park. It goes straight up. I also hiked it at the beginning of my recent respiratory illness. I'm sure that was a bad idea. On top of all that...the clouds moved in as I got close to the summit. By the time I reached the top...I was in the clouds. I couldn't see a damn thing. But I think it's bad luck to be on a summit and not take a photo. So the above photo is what I came up with. I guess it's got kind of a spooky quality. 

At one point during my trip, I pulled off the road along Highway 89 to talk on the phone. I was looking out my window, admiring the view, when something occurred to me. This photo accurately displays how most tourists see our national parks. 
Very few of them ever get out of their car. They're able to see beautiful things...but they only scratch the surface. Ahh well. More space for me in the backcountry. 

By far the best part of the trip was this:
It's my buddy Dave proudly standing guard over the beginnings of his new cabin. A mutual friend, Danny, is building it for him. I'd heard about the cabin for a while and I have to admit I was skeptical. But in seeing what they have so far, I was impressed. Now hurry up Danny. I need a place to stay when I come next year. 

Silenced

I've lost my voice before. When it's happened in the past, I didn't think much about it. It was almost a kind of novelty. Besides that, it never lasted long. But for the past week and a half, I've been effectively silenced. I got sick (likely bronchitis) while on vacation in Montana. Nearly two weeks later, my voice has still not fully recovered. Most of my other symptoms haven't been that bad. I've had a few choice coughing fits, a sore throat, and some congestion. But the loss of my voice has been the most vexing issue. It's actually depressed me a little. The simple medical problem of hoarseness means I...can't....work. I've never really thought about how much I depend on my voice for a living. But when the ability to speak is suddenly taken away...that simple fact is much more obvious. I'm at work tonight and it's going okay. I'd say my voice is functioning at 80 to 85 percent of normal. But I've missed five days of work so far because I can't anchor a newscast. I tried pulling it together Wednesday morning. Forty minutes in to our two hour show I had another coughing fit and had to call it quits. This work absence comes on the heels of my week long vacation to Montana. I've basically been off work for two weeks. I hate the feeling. Sometimes I complain about my job but there's no better way to be thankful for it than when you want to work and can't. I've got to make it through another half hour newscast tonight and then I have four days off in a row. I'm sincerely hoping I'll be ready to anchor come Wednesday morning. If not...I'm going to have myself a pity party. Never again will I view a lost voice as some kind of novelty.

Twister: SLC Edition

I'm sure some of my midwestern friends have their own tornado stories. I've got my own...and I grew up in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. 

Ten years ago today, I drove right through a tornado...and didn't even know it. I worked at a library in Salt Lake's Avenues neighborhood at the time. I remember it being a gloomy day as I left for work. At one point, I started to notice lots of debris flying through the air. My first thought was that a dumpster had perhaps tipped over. I was only a minute or so away from work when I looked my rear view mirror and saw a tree topple over into the street. "Wow, it's really windy," I remember saying to myself out loud. I wasn't nervous or scared. I was mesmerized more than anything else. Branches, leaves, boxes, a strange blue styrofoam (which I later learned came from a nearby construction site), and garbage was flying everywhere. Hail was coming down hard. I saw another tree fall over as I parked along the street in front of the library. I ran towards the entrance and saw my manager holding the door open screaming, "Hurry!" She closed the door behind me and said, "you're a lucky guy." "Why," I asked. "You just drove through a tornado." They were listening to a news bulletin on the radio. We closed down for the day and I slowly made my way home. Later that night I took my nephew Ricky and drove up to the state capitol building. These were some of the pictures I took. 

I remember people asking me why I kept driving through the storm. What else was I supposed to do? I didn't grow up with midwest psyche of "seek shelter." The possibility of a tornado was the furthest thing from my mind. Luckily, it all turned out okay. 

Lonely nights

Most people don't travel at night, especially when they have to drive. Sometimes, I prefer it. If you're lucky, you'll see some cool things that wouldn't be that impressive in daylight. I headed home from Glacier last Wednesday evening. The plan was to get through at least half of my Highway 12 route, stop at a pullout along the Lochsa River, and sleep in my Jeep. I didn't count on not being able to sleep. After 40 fitful minutes of trying to doze off, I said, "screw it." I got back in the driver's seat and kept going. 

Much of Highway 12 through Idaho is a frustrating and beautiful drive. It's 150 miles of windy, curvy roadway. There's a lot to look at but if you're in a hurry, it's the road that never ends. There's also a long, long stretch between any kind of services. It's a lonely road. Lonelier at night. I could count the number of cars I saw that night on one hand. Imagine my surprise then when I rounded a corner and saw a bright light ahead on the roadway. Beneath the light, a lone flagger holding a stop sign. It was a strange sight at 2:00 a.m. in the middle of nowhere. Eerie is a good way to describe it. As I inched closer, the flagger turned out to be a middle aged blonde woman with a big grin on her face. 

"A pilot car will be along in a little bit to take you through," she said. "Bet you didn't expect to see me tonight, did you?" 

I don't think most people normally roll the windows down and chat with construction workers but under the circumstances, it would have been weird not to. This woman chose the night shift so she wouldn't have to stand in the heat of the day. She told me about the time her construction light suddenly went out. She turned the headlights of her car on so drivers would at least see her. 

"But then I thought that was a bad idea," she explained. "If I was driving through here at night and saw somebody in construction clothes lit up by the headlights of a car, I wouldn't think it was legit. I'd think somebody was trying to stop me so they could rob me or kill me." 

I laughed nervously at that one. 

"You're fully awake aren't you," she asked me. 

"Yeah, I am." 

"The other night a guy rammed right through here because he fell asleep. I had to dive out of the way. He hit the rear view mirror on my car. I think that woke him up. If I hadn't been here he would have gone right into the river."

I'm sure she would have been happy to have someone to talk to for the rest of the night. But the pilot car came and escorted me through. I never got a picture of her. The photo at the top is of another roadblock I came across minutes later. This guy wasn't in the mood for conversation. I eventually got through this last road block and continued driving. Thirty minutes later, I was treated to one of the most incredible lightning shows I've ever seen. Lots of electricity, no rain, and virtually no thunder. Very cool. Consider traveling at night if you can. You never know what strange experiences you'll have.