A Cast of Players

Dedication: To my dear friend Carla who urged me to put some flowers in my hair and just...go.

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Here. I find myself in some far-out city. A far cry and miles from my home; a country apart. Snuggled in hillsides. Still frames. Filled with life upon a shore, a distant sea. Filled with hills and lights and streetcars, named Desire. With man-made bridges towering over heads spinning with wonder and awe. Bridges. Towering in giant delight. Buses. Filled and emptied, again and again. People. Hop on hop off. A whirlwind. Horns blowing. The sounds amplified and then; lost among the avenues.
 Lost among the throng of colorful crowds. A light from a distant era does shine, with psychedelic colors. With a haze of smoke that seeps into a day. This day. Oozing from some crazy Jack Kerouac passage. With trees in parks and sidewalks unknown. Still frames; filled with ideas and freedoms, and people from the Haight. I search to fulfill some wanton desire. To step lightly, happily into a glorified past. And then, as if a curtain drawn, the play begins in earnest. Time intersects. Today and tomorrow slip into yesterday. A sign. A flash; a cast of players step onto this stage called…life. Here, in this place, unfolds the dramas; the comedies, the tragedies, the moments. All things in the universe come spinning together. Right place, right time, right on. The cast assembles, the camera clicks, the moment fleeting. Captured. The smiles, the

laughter, the triumph of the day. The curtain closes. The stars emerge. The night fills again with wonder. Time advances. The journey continues. From past to present to futures unknown. And yet the moment remains. Frozen, in still frame. Frozen in some far-out city, on some far-out street. It is, it was, it will always be… Haight/Ashbury.

The Iconic Haight-Ashbury

They say a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. However, that isn’t exactly how this journey to find the iconic corner of Haight and Ashbury in San Francisco began. It actually began as a way to honor a request from a dear friend who just insisted that I throw some flowers in my hair, transport myself back to the sixties, and take a photograph of myself at the apex of the most famous street corner from the amazing era of flower power, love and peace man, peace.

So, you would think in this day and age of electronics, that finding a street corner as famous as Haight/Ashbury would be easy, well, you would be wrong. But, I was on a mission, a mission from God (if you don’t get the reference we can no longer be friends).  As it happens, San Francisco is a pretty damn big place, especially if you are a small town girl like me. It’s not as if you just walk around any old corner in the city and poof, Haight/Ashbury magically appears like an oasis filled with hippies, acid, and an abundance of weed. Although, if you’ve eaten enough mushrooms I guess it might.

At any rate, after doing a ton of cool things that particular day: walking all the way across the Golden Gate Bridge and back, riding the trolley cars up and down the hills of San Fran, and taking a stroll out along Fisherman’s Wharf, I decide to use the Muni-pass I had purchased (which got me on all forms of public transportation in the city) to ride out to the Golden Gate Park, disembark, and from there, honor my friends wishes by finding Haight/Ashbury and having my picture taken at the historic corner. Flowers or no flowers, like I said man, I was on a mission. Finding the bus that went that way was one thing, not understanding that they would not announce which stop I needed to get off at to reach the park, was another. Were they not aware of the fact that I was a tourist? Were they not aware of the fact that I had no idea where the hell I was or which bus stop to disembark? Were they not aware that I was paying no attention to city streets, or where I was going? Apparently not. 

My intended bus ride of 15 minutes, turned into more like an hour. I finally asked someone, "does this bus not go to Golden Gate Park?" "Yes it does" they informed me, with a look of pity in their eyes, "back there" they pointed in the direction we had just come. "You missed your stop about 20 minutes ago."  Shit. Someone, who was kind enough not to point out that I was a complete idiot, then told me to get off the bus, cross the proverbial road, and hop the next on coming bus to the park. They were also kind enough to tell me which bus stop I should look for. So off the bus I go, across said street, and on to the next bus which, by chance, didn’t actually go all the way to the park. So off the bus I go, again, where I finally catch a bus going in the right direction, to the right park and the right bus stop. Score. Sort of…Now, I’m not sure if you are familiar with the Golden Gate Park but that shit is immense. It’s like 20,000 freaking acres. Not to worry, I had my phone to google map it. And so off I went to hike all the way across that stupid park. Oh, I mean that really cool park. Until what? You got it, my phone dies. Did I say shit earlier? Well, I second the motion.

Now I was on my own. Sort of, but not really. At least some of the folks in the park knew the area and after a couple of polite and extremely helpful conversations, I zeroed in on my goal. And before you knew it, only two hours after I started my foray in to the great expanse know as San Francisco, I found myself staring up at the sign. There is was in all its glory; the iconic corner of Haight/Ashbury, and there just above the sign, the clock which is perpetually on 4:20. I had made it, finally.

As I began taking a few photos, a young man who happened to be working cleaning the streets, gave

me some pointers on where to stand to get the best photo as to encompass the clock and the sign. He then politely offered to take a photo of me standing under the sign/clock. I thanked him and turned to go stand under said sign when I noticed a guy, no not just a guy, but real life modern day hippie standing nearby. He smiled at me as I turned around to smile into the camera and…click. My mission was complete. My friend would be ecstatic. I had done it. I had my photo taken under the sign on the most famous corner in all San Francisco. I thanked the young man again and began walking off along Ashbury Street. I was just strolling along when I looked down at the photo he had taken. It stopped me dead in my tracks. The photo did not just include me, but also two guys: one street urchin and the other was the real life hippie, decked out in his Elton John sunglasses, bright read pants, and Willie Wonka hat. He was smoking a fat joint with one hand and shooting a peace sign with the other; the smoke from his toke easing out of his mouth in a giant fog. I was all a flutter with excitement. I literally couldn't stop laughing as I though to myself "this maybe the most awesome photo ever taken at Haight and Ashbury!" And truly, I think it was. Talk about finding iconic. It was art imitating life in spades.

You know, they say everything happens for a reason. Had I not gotten lost for an hour, had my phone not died, had I not taken my time strolling along through the Golden Gate Park, I would not have gotten such an iconic picture to share with my friend and with the world. The powers that be came together, at the right place, at the right time, and with the right people in place. Thank you universe, you rock.  

I won’t go into my journey back to Fisherman’s Wharf but I will say, I spent the night sleeping in my truck on the top of a parking garage with the city sky line twinkling overhead, feeling every bit the hippie/adventurer. I fell asleep thinking about the freedom was I lucky enough to be experiencing and the roads still head of me, the roads still...less traveled.

Spectrum

   

                                                             

From a starry, starry night to a sojourn over a mile below the earth’s surface, one inspiring, amazing, solitary day in New Mexico gave me one of the most spiritual and memorable experiences of my entire life. And the thing is, I had no idea that day what to expect. I had no idea what I would discover or what my eyes would see. I had no idea what was about to transpire or how it would change my outlook on how I felt about this place we call Earth and the universe that surrounds us.

You know, everyone looks up. Everyone, at one point or another, gazes up into the universe and wonders. As human beings, it is inherent behavior; before we began to spend so much of our time inside. Inside our offices, homes, buildings, and schools, we looked up. A hut, or a cave or shelter of some kind, was used only to escape the elements or to sleep. But the rest of the time, we looked up.  Humans spent their time outside, under the umbrella of the sun, moon, and stars. It was that feeling, a deep-seated notion of the past, of the immenseness of this universe, and the wonder of it all which overcame me that evening while star gazing deep in the desert of New Mexico. It wasn’t expected nor planned. It happened as organically as the sky itself.

As so often in my life as of late, sleep had eluded me. I climbed out of my bunk, wrapped myself in a fuzzy blanket, and sat blinking into the chilly morning air. Sitting, thinking, with my head tilted back in my chair, it was several minutes before I began to realize how full the night sky was and how dark the desert. The stars began to twinkle brightly, the planets held a constant glow, and I soon began to recognize that the constellations were alive. Shooting stars one after the other

tore across the sky. The Milky Way streaked across the distant universe and the moon shone down upon me. I was mesmerized. I don’t think I had ever felt more insignificant, more inconsequential, or more human than in that very moment. It was then that my essence became completely in focus. My eyes were wide, taking in the aura of my surroundings. I could hear the howling of coyotes. I could taste the sweetness of…life. Although I was surrounded by the cool morning air, the warmth I felt inside of me emanated from my meager existence. So, with the dawn quickening and the cosmos fading, I fell asleep right there in that chair feeling more at peace and more alive than I had ever felt before.

And then, the sun rose and the day began in earnest. I looked up and squinted into the sun, blinking myself back into consciousness. I stretched and yawned and folded myself out of my chair. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, splashed some water on my face, and then drove the 30 miles over to the Carlsbad Caverns thinking it would be an average day, filled with average tourists, doing average touristy things. Being the first group to be let in, I paid my entrance fees and gathered with the rest of the early risers. As the ranger began to speak, giving us a running diatribe of the do’s and don'ts of the caverns, I quickly decided not to stay with the maddening crowd, slipped away from the group, and headed down into the caverns which sank below the earth’s crust. I distanced myself from the rest who stood patiently listening to the lecture. I walked quickly down. Further and further below the earth’s surface, the unnatural lights illuminating my steps. The sound of my breath, hollow and lonely in the deepening cave. 

I finally came to a stop and realized I was truly all alone. No sunlight, nor moonlight, nor a single sign of humanity. I was alone, over a mile below the earth’s surface, I was alone. The sound of my footsteps, the dripping of water, and the passing of time was all I could hear or taste, or feel. Trees and suns and moons and grasslands did not live here. Just as I felt the immenseness of the universe only hours ago, I felt the weight of the earth surrounding me. 

 And then, the stars became stalagmites and the planets became stalactites. The Milky Way morphed into the gloaming of a giant fossil reef, and a shooting star became…myself. I drifted. Floating along deep inside the caverns of the earth. Into the realm of a feeling unparalleled. It was here the spectrum closed its gap. It was here that the universe and the earth and I became one entity. I was overwhelmed with the joy of my own meager existence. It was here that I finally understood that to exist…is enough.

The sound of laughter and footsteps echoed through the air. Another fleeting moment of clarity and then the trance was broken. I clung to that feeling, that moment. I allowed my newly found state of mind to linger as I made my way upward, past the throng of people that had finally caught up with me. I found my way back to the daylight. Back to the surface of the earth. I squinted into the light. My eyes adjusted. I looked up. Up into a brilliant, blue sky filled with white puffy clouds. Up into the universe, up into my own beautiful, imperfect existence. Up into my true self. 

10,000 miles; A Journey Across America

So I was asked to put together some advice or observations for my fellow truck campers. I have thought long and hard about what to say. Hopefully, this will be of some help and/or at least be somewhat entertaining.

Over the last two months, I traveled over 10,000 miles and drove across 25 states. I did this trip solo and am glad I did. So many times along this journey I had some deeply moving experiences that would not have occurred had I been traveling with others. So, and this is just personal preference, if it strikes you, travel alone. You’ll find you’ll have a richer more personal experience if you do.

 Top 5 items I could not do without. 

Gros Ventre at the Grand Tetons

In no particular order. My beach chair. Whether I was chillin' at camp, sitting by the Smith River, or drinking a beer overlooking the Grand Canyon, my beach chair was my constant companion. 

My Atlas. Yes, Google Maps was also my constant companion but, planning my trip and seeing things on a larger scale while out on the road was invaluable. Not to mention, when you are out there in the middle of nowhere you don’t always have cell service. 

My Lug-A-Loo. Man oh man, this was one purchase that was well worth the 15 bucks I paid. A Lug-a-loo is basically a 5-gallon bucket with a toilet seat for a lid. When it was below freezing and too cold to leave the truck, when I was in bear country, or when I was “camping” in an overnight location such as the parking garage in San Francisco, my lug-a-loo was invaluable. 

My headlamp. Hands-free lighting is a no-brainer. Loved that thing. I used it for cooking at night, gathering firewood, and most of all for reading, which was one of my main sources of relaxation and entertainment. 

My iPod. When driving 10,000 miles, there is a lot of downtime behind the wheel. Music was the one constant that kept me company on those long stretches of road. 

And finally, my shoes. Sounds crazy, but when I wasn’t in my hikers I was in my favorite sneakers or my flip-flops. There are a lot of things about doing this kind of trip that are not comfortable. As a matter of fact, I have often said that the words adventure and comfort should never appear in the same sentence. So, might as well make sure your feet are happy because other than your truck, your feet are the most important thing you need to look after.

Truck set up.

Upon my return home, I was asked how it was living out of the back of my truck for three months. I told my friend “I could easily live out of the back of my truck, but that living out of the back of my truck ain’t always easy.” And that is the truth. My Build was incredibly simplistic but

My Bunk

worked really, really well. Being short I was able to build my bunk along the back of the cab. It was made of plywood and a few two-by-fours. I bought a 3-inch thick foam pad to sleep on. I had a wool blanket, a fuzzy blanket, and a feather duvet to keep me warm. Even in below-freezing temps and with no heater I was toasty. I had some storage space beneath my bunk and the rest of my gear I kept in labeled totes. I was lucky enough to have a truck that had a crew cab so storage was never an issue. I also used a small piece of plywood that stretched across two of my totes for a table. So when I was in my bunk I had a place to set my book, my drink, a lantern, or my heater if and when I had electricity. I had a tote for my camp kitchen, a catch-all, one for food, and of course a cooler. Ice was a constant expense but less so in the colder states. I also had my backpack for day use and a suitcase in which I kept my clothes and my toiletries. And that’s pretty much it. It was simple, effective, and comfortable. It felt so much like home that I am thinking of giving up my apt and living in my truck full time by the beginning of the year.

Traveling solo (as a woman) 

I know our group has a lot of women who are, or will be, traveling solo so I definitely have some advice for you (and anyone else who may be doing this alone). Just do it. I think what you will find is that 99.9 percent of the people that you meet are just doing the same thing you are. I have found that campgrounds are filled with people, well…camping. They are not filled with rapists, murderers, and thieves. I never, not in all the years I’ve been camping, have ever had anything stolen from my campsite, nor have I run into any unsavory characters. Is it always possible? Yes. However, the possibilities that you will run into someone who wants to do you harm at your local mall, grocery store, or gas station are exactly the same. So my advice and behavior is the same whether I'm walking out of my local Walmart or one in some far away state that I am unfamiliar with; be aware of your surroundings. And when you are out of what you think is your element, just act as if you own the place, like you belong there; like this is your turf. Confidence and body language goes a very, very long way in projecting who you are and where you belong.

 Nothing ever goes exactly as planned 

I think if I could say one thing about dirtbagging or just traveling in general, it would be that nothing goes right all of the time. Expect the unexpected, enjoy the process, and enjoy the journey. Embrace the things that go wrong as you do the things that go right. Improvise, smile, and greet each new day with confidence and determination which projects a love of life. That in and of itself will take you a long way.

A note about driving

Listen, no one had more romantic visions and ideals of crossing America than me. And yes, driving out across the desert with the sun setting to the west, or through the mountains of Colorado with the snow drifting gently across your windshield, or feeling the freedom of the winding roads of the hills of Tennessee is absolutely amazing. The freedom of the open road, that crazy Jack Kerouac vibe, and the American dream are out there, but those moments are intermingled with the reality of distance, time, and money. My original idea was to stay off the freeway and hit the back roads of America. That was quickly dashed by the reality of time. I did often stay off the major highways, but traveling on only back roads is next to impossible, costly, and would have taken forever! So unless you have unlimited resources, get used to the fact that the highway is your friend, and even though it may be crowded; it is effective.

Also, backtracking is never a good idea if you can avoid it; especially if you are traveling a super long distance as I did. At first, it didn’t seem to matter. I was like “Oh well, no worries.” But then the time wasted and the money spent unnecessarily on gas caught up with me. As a matter of fact, by the time I got 5000 miles under my belt I was like “Oh heck no, I am not backtracking or going out of my way one mile.” LOL By then I was tired. I’m not going to lie. So I became very efficient at planning my next move while still keeping the adventure rolling. In hindsight, I would have been more aware of that in the beginning as it may have opened up more opportunities for me later in the trip to see some things I missed due to a lack of funds and time which was spent traveling down roads I had already traveled. Lessons learned for sure. But all in all, aside from the exhaustion that eventually set in and a few traffic jams I loved being out there on my own, out on the road crossing this amazing country, and living the dream.

Favorite places

Although I didn’t often camp in national parks, I did visit many of them. Get your national park pass. It is a steal for 80 bucks. The pass gets you into all national parks and monuments. Gosh, there are so many things to see here in America but, it certainly isn’t difficult at all for me to pick my favorites. Of course, it is also a matter of personal preference, but there are just some places you cannot pass up. My top ten list would be, starting with my top spot:

Crater Lake (honorable mention)

1.      The Redwoods at the Jedidiah Smith State Park in California. The campground was one of the most expensive I stayed at but my campsite along the Smith River was worth every penny. I loved it so much that I stayed an extra night. The Redwoods are just an experience you cannot pass up. Each person will have an experience filled with wonder. However, the differences in each individual tree are astonishing. Do not miss it. Truly my favorite place in the USA.

2.      The Grand Tetons (Jackson Hole) WY. Just jaw-dropping at every turn. I camped at Gros

Grand Tetons

Ventre in site no 2 which had a great view of the mountains themselves. If I had it to do all over again I would have left out my time in Yellowstone for more time at the Tetons. I cannot put my finger on why this place affected me the way it did but I just felt connected to those mountains. I could not get enough.

  3.  The Grand Canyon Hike below the rim if you have time.

The Grand Canyon

There is also a BLM site just 2 miles south of the south entrance. I also camped at Desert View in the Park itself. One thing about the Grand Canyon, it is very touristy and you can only stand and look for so long. I loved the GC but did, in the end, cut my time there short. Unless you are hiking all the way to the bottom two days should be plenty.

4.      Carlsbad NM. Two things: definitely go down into the caverns and definitely get up on a clear night and do some star gazing. The wide spectrum of my experience there was unparalleled; from gazing at the Milky Way, watching in awe as a plethora of shooting stars made their way across the sky, and staring at the brilliant planets such as Jupiter and Mars and then the next day, making the journey a mile beneath the earth’s surface was one of the most memorable and moving things I experienced on this sojourn. ( I camped at Brantley Lake. Which didn’t seem like much at first, but I ended up loving it there)

Mesa Verde

5.      Mesa Verde. The ancient Pueblo Villages were another deeply moving and spiritual experience for me. I urge you to just go and check them out. Inspiring, really.

6.      The Badlands SD (I didn’t camp here as I was on a push eastward). Although my time here was brief, it was a soulful experience. I got to the Buffalo National Grasslands/ Badland National Park at sunrise. I literally didn’t see another living soul the entire time I was out there. Want to get a feeling for how the Plains Indians must have felt? Go in the early morning and stand and listen to the earth. Just the wind and the birds and the sky to keep you company. Moving.

7.     Monument Valley. Classic Americana at its best.

Badlands

8.      Death Valley. Such a cool (not literally, lol) place. The geological formations were astounding. I sat and watched a lightning storm move in that evening at my campground. It felt like someone dropped me slap dab into the middle of an Eagle’s song.

9.      San Francisco. I don’t do cities but I had to stop and check this one out. So advice if you go. You have to pay to park so you might just as well pay for 24 hrs and stay overnight in the parking lot. That’s what I did and it was great. I was just blocks from Fisherman’s Wharf, it only cost me 36 bucks, and I was on the top tier of the garage with an amazing view of the city skyline. Win-win. Get a Muni pass to get around. Best 20 bucks I ever spent as it will get you on all modes of public transportation for the whole day. Another win-win.

10. Big Sur/Santa Cruz/Halfmoon Bay. If you are into surfing at all, this area is a must. I loved the drive, the surf, and the vibe.  I stayed on the side of the road in Big Sur as the campgrounds were full and then I stayed at the Pillar Point Marina in Half Moon Bay. Man, it was iconic. The biggest waves in the continental United States break there. I was in heaven.

11. As an honorable mention hit Arches National Park if you can. really cool place.

So there you have it in a not-so-proverbial nutshell. I wish you safe travels my friends.

My home, my wheels, my best friend

The Message

At the beginning of my visit to Mesa Verde, I was not sure why the ancient ruins of the Pueblo Indians affected me the way it did. However, it became quite clear as my time there progressed. To be honest, I didn’t even know there was a ruin at that site until a friend mentioned it to me. I was really only expecting to see an interesting geological site. You know, a mesa and maybe a canyon.  Instead, I received a whole lot more that day than I ever could have imagined.

            Originally I thought maybe the ruins affected me the way they did because I’m always talking about being one with the earth. You know, waxing poetic about not just being on the earth but being a part of it. And that oneness is what I saw, it is what I felt, as I stood looking across the gorge at the

ancient ruins that appeared to rise up out of Mother Earth herself. The earth and the soil, the Mesa provided…life. It is what sustained them and it is what sustains us 1500 years later. 

            Although I saw several cars along my journey in and out of the mesa, I never actually came in contact with any people. Except, of course, the souls of the cliff dwellers which I could feel swirling around me in the distant hills. I cannot tell you how long I stood there. It felt as if time did not exist. But, It was in those precious, glorious moments I encountered what I instantly knew to be my spirit animal. Circling overhead in the canyon, a gigantic, black crow that I had been watching came swooping down out of the cold, icy air and landed in a snow-covered tree branch mere feet from where I stood. I was mesmerized. We looked into each other's eyes and I knew he knew me. He knew my thoughts, my heart, and my desire to feel connected to this place and this planet. I knew he was there…for me.

He came bearing a message. I could feel it. It was time for me to let go of the old. Time for me to step into my authentic self; my true self. The time for change was now, it was here. And then I knew. It flowed across my entire being like a wave from the ocean. The message was clear. It will be this journey that opens up the door to my desire to truly be an integral part of this earth that I love so well. It will be this journey that will define the rest of my life. I knew it then...as the crow knew me. 

          My spirit animal and his infinite wisdom eventually took flight. He circled once more overhead, cawed in my direction, and flew off into the great expanse beyond the ancient village. I watched silently as he became a small, seemingly insignificant black dot in the overcast sky. I took one last look at the village which rose up from the earth and as I turned to walk away, I knew that I would carry this experience in my heart forever.

The Zac-Myster; In The Beginning

One’s imagination is a splendid and glorious thing. When we were kids, our imagination took us places we could never have gone in the real world. But our imagination gave us wings to fly, mighty seas to cross, and glory beyond summer days. As we get older we can often lose our ability to dream, to create, and to fly beyond the realm of the mundane-ness of life. The creation of my alter ego the Zac-Myster, is now, and will always be, a homage to what could and can be, adulthood’s soaring imagination.

In the Beginning: One day I came upon my good friend Derek and his lovely wife Mia at our local watering hole. Perched upon Derek’s head was a beige and brown hat that simply read “Zac Brown Band.” Now, since that encounter, I coveted that hat like no other. Time and time again I urged my friend to part with said hat, to which I was met with a chorus of ‘hell nos.’ Finally one day my friend walked up to me and relinquished his hat into my grateful hands with one stipulation; the hat was to be worn on my next grand adventure, wherever that may take me. I agreed wholeheartedly and thus the Zac-Myster’s adventures began.

The Breath of Life: Within a few days, of that particular day, when Zac became mine, I began to train for my next long-distance hike. I walked along the mighty Santa Fe with my new hat placed firmly on my head. I had stopped along the way to take some photographs and decided to try to take a selfie of me in my awesome, new hat. But, as per usual, my head seemed to take up the entire frame; in the most gigantic pumpkin-like fashion. I really wanted to take a pic of my hat to show my friend that I was keeping my word. As I prepared for my next sojourn, the hat he had given me would go everywhere with me and was an intricate part of my daily routine. And then I had an epiphany. I removed my hat and set it into the frame and snapped a photo of it sitting alone with Santa Fe River shining behind him. And so it began. I started to take pictures of my hat wherever I might be and posted them to Facebook. Before long I had named him the Zac-Myster and I, even unbeknownst to me at the time, began to breathe life into him. He was no longer just an inanimate object, he was no longer just a hat; he was my best friend and my most faithful companion. As I traveled along winding country roads and climbed tall mountains, he was with me. As I experienced the wind of the sea and the shine of the sun, so did he. And thus an ordinary hat, with no special talents or seemingly, a place in the world, began to have a life of its own. And that is how The Zac-Myster came into existence. Although we went on many an adventure together, he has since been retired and sits in a place of honor in my son's house and watches happily as my son comes home from his many travels, just like his mom.

                                     

Linville Falls

So after much thought and careful consideration, unlike when I first came up with my bright idea of driving the Blue Ridge Parkway in its entirety, I have come to the conclusion that doing that is just not feasible; mostly due to the lack of cooperation I have received from mother nature. So, as in life in general, I have altered my plans as follows: I have decided to omit the parkway in VA altogether as reports from other travelers suggest it is in a state of disrepair as the overlooks are poorly maintained. As such, I shall be concentrating my efforts to see some cool shit in NC instead. What seemed to work well for me yesterday will be the model for my new plan; take the highway to said sight and after the weather clears in the afternoon jump on the BRP for some sporty-like driving. Stay tuned...

And now to blog:

Yesterday turned out to be a really fun day overall. Even though it started with me sitting at the McDonalds near my campsite for 2 hours looking at maps and the weather and trying to figure out how to beat the fog into submission. I finally realized that driving the parkway early in the morning was completely out. So I decided to just do what normal people do around here, take the highway to

the sights I wanted to see. That decision actually turned out rather well as I found myself out in the countryside jetting down some really cool roads equal in beauty and curvature to the parkway. The roads coming in and out of Linville Falls were especially badass. Yesterday I was able to make it to Linville Falls for a short hike and then hop on the BRP and jet down that for a while. I opted out of sleeping in my truck again for a hot shower and continental breakfast at the Comfort Inn. And yes, it was comfortable.

I'll be hitting the area around Linville Falls again today hoping to hike the Gorge and see the caverns...

The best part of my day: sitting at the falls at one of the far overlooks. I had the place to myself for almost an hour. I just sat there eating my banana and listening to the earth that surrounded me. Seems to be what I like best overall so far just sitting and listening...

And just for the record: finding a place to camp has been exhausting. Next time I'll come before Oct 31 which would be before all the state campgrounds close for the season...geez.

Oh and thanks to Slate and Melody for the offer of a bit of couch surfing at their cabin, I'll see you all this afternoon...:)