A Lot of Ground To Cover

Today was a failure of calculation from tip to toes.  I had a longer drive then anticipated from my campsite to the park, the park took an extra half hour, and most embarrassingly of all, I had forgotten that the evening’s accommodations were two time zones over leading to a VERY late check in and a short night’s rest.  I will say that in this particular instance sloth has done me a great service.  My early plan (way back in March) was to find a campsite on the fly when I got to my final destination of the day.  However, night time campsite hunting is more stressful than fun so I caved and got a cheap rate on a Days Inn from Expedia, God bless them.  At 1am when I pulled in I decided it was the best decision I will have made this entire trip.  And that is the brief view of my itinerary for the second day of my road trip.  How’s about a little more detail?

The cynical view is thus: all I did today was see a park and drive for hours.  Eleven hours to be exact.  Twelve if you count the driving within the park.  However, I am on vacation and while on vacation I try very hard not to take the cynical view.  I like to think of this as a step toward future mental health.  Preventative positive thinking, or at least practice for how to appear more chipper and well-adjusted than I actually am.  Either way, the glossy view is: I got up at an appropriately early time, broke camp a half hour ahead of schedule, saw a really cool cave (did not humiliate park ranger or act overly rude), and drove through three really beautiful states.  I really can’t say enough good things about Utah.  Considering the fact that it is full of religious people you know it much be gorgeous or else I would just write off the whole state.

                I have a whole handful of random and colorful tidbits, but I am trying hard not to start this day in a time deficit so I will get to those later.  For now I will just give you one little piece of Lexi-style randomness.  Yesterday was the first day of summer (June 21^st) and I spent it in the hottest spot in North America.  Today I visited another type of desert (or possibly just a higher elevation piece of the same one).  While here I made what I will call officially the first snowball of summer.  Which I threw aimed at a tree and let fly with childish delight.  I missed. 

So many ways this could go...

Bless me travel gods, for I have sinned.  It has been three weeks since my last proper blog post and in that time I have taken the name of travel in vain, had impure thoughts about Antarctica, and acted in a slothful manner as regards packing and planning. 

In short, before setting off this morning I should have known there was going to have to be some sort of sacrifice made in order to get things straight between us.  That is where Death Valley comes in. 

Now, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t go to Death Valley as a form of penance.   I have always wanted to go to Death Valley.  I went to Clemson after all.  It is practically a requirement that at some point in your life you go to our stadium’s namesake and take a photo with the sign.  Plus, Death Valley is a national park and as most of you know by now, I have a thing for NPs.  And it has such a cute name. 

Before anyone asks, no I did not go on any hikes.  I will barely hike in Griffith Park, a place with the sweet lazy word park right there in the title.  Did you really think I would be dumb enough to hike in a place with death in the power position? 

I have not so much a ritual as a code of conduct when it comes to national parks.  Once I pass the sign (and almost always I will stop for a picture), I turn off the radio, roll down the windows, and barely speed.  Most NPs have a really low speed limit but it is there so that you can drive slowly while taking in the view.  Plus in a lot of national parks you should drive slowly to avoid wildlife such as deer and campers.  I started out in good faith with DV.  Two hours in I cracked and rolled up the windows for some AC time.  I could not bring myself to speed though.  Even going the speed limit of 60 (unheard of for the main thoroughfare of a national park) seemed exhausting.

What I realized around hour three in the park was that it had pretty much sapped my will to live.  The sand dunes were lovely.  The salt flats were salty.  You can bet your booty I made it to the lowest elevation in North America. What I really truly wanted was to get out.  The guide books warn you right up front that you should take maps with a grain of salt.  The information is correct, it is just that nothing is as close as it seems.  When I caved and turned on the AC I had just finally made it ¾ of the way across the skinny part of the park and was about to head south for a 17 mile detour.  On the map the skinny part is about two inches across.  The long part is six or seven.  At this point I was grateful for three things:  1) that my AC is in glorious working order, 2) that I had filled up with gas at the last service station [this is always nice when encountering signs that say ‘next services 67 miles (or 72 miles, or 167 miles – all signs I have seen in the last 24 hours)], and 3) that I am in a car at all.  There are signs everywhere about the original Death Valley 49s -poor bastards who had tried to find a shortcut through DV to the gold fields of California.  There is a marker where the less brazen gave up and headed north.  There is a marker where those who continued on burned their wagons and proceeded on foot.   I left the park about an hour and a half after that and have never been so happy in my life as when I saw the Nevada state line sign.  Bullet holes and all.

When I finally got to the campground I managed to set up my tent in under ten minutes (a personal best and long cry from last year’s initial attempt which took an hour), and tucked myself in next to my pepper spray shortly afterward.  I also decided that next year I will not be spending high noon on the first day of summer in the hottest point in all of North America. 

Dusting off the tent and such...

Got a very large shock last night when I finally looked at my calendar - I leave for part two of Operation Hiatus on Tuesday.  What does that mean?  It is time to pack.  Again.  So for about 20 whole minutes today I went through my camping gear and my cupboards to take stock of my resources.  I plan on devoting almost as much grievous labor to my endeavors tomorrow as I do a weather.com search to forecast the overnight temperatures of the Dakotas and points in-between.  The real flurry of packing activity should take place sometime between Sunday evening and Monday afternoon.  Pictures may be posted at some point.  

Sadly, by the time of my departure one of my fabulous readers will be on her own adventure.  Have fun in Africa Michelle!  (Hey mom, look who is going farther away than me.)

And if anyone gets bored and needs a nice fun blog to follow between my adventures, my friend Gina has started one called "What's for lunch today?"  It is fun and quick and can be found at rphilangee.blogspot.com

Talk to you all soon.

xoxo  

Crawling out from under my rock.

Hello all,

In case you were wondering (which I'm pretty sure no one was as you all have Facebook and NO ONE made numerous frantic calls to make sure I landed safely) I did make it home from Hawaii in one piece.  Special shout-outs to Chris and Amy for braving LAX on a Thursday evening in order to pick me up.  In a truck no less.  Also, Michelle and Dan get a major props for letting me park at their place for a month and then having my car washed for me.  They are definitely more thoughtful than I am.

Here is the good news - I found my address book today so I can actually mail out souvenirs to those of you I wish to bestow presents upon.  That is unless you live in LA in which case I will deliver them eventually as I already paid for the presents and am not going to pay to ship them a quarter mile.  Thrifty midwestern values and all.  Family - I have no idea if I will be shipping your prezzies or sweet talking mom into taking them home with her after her visit next week.

I've gotten questions about my travel and I've managed to muddle my way through answers.  Truthfully I am still trying to get my bearings on where I am and what time zone I'm operating in.  Maybe in a week I will have my head on straight and can give more appropriate answers to "What was your favorite part?".  Maybe.  I have downloaded all of my pictures to snapfish and once I delete some of the more redundant and out of focus pictures I will email a link.  I hope you all got a feel for the trip as we went along from the blog and the photos.  It definitely felt like I had company along the way.  Sometimes I even did (Jami, you were a driving rock star).

This post concludes the Pacific Rim adventure.  I head out on a road trip to South Dakota in a couple of weeks and I'm not sure if there will be blogging then or not.  If there is, I hope you will all continue to indulge me.

One last thing, next summer my goal is a road trip around the US to visit all of my friends and family that I haven't seen in awhile/don't see enough.  I'm hoping to stop in Seattle, NY, Washington, South Carolina, and Missouri.  Let me know if you have any ideas for additional stops.

xoxo
Your Favorite Traveler

A three alarm morning is nothing like a three alarm fire...

Though sometimes those two things do coincide.  When getting up early to greet the sun at a national park here are some things to know:  what time the sun rises (do not trust weather.com, it is a site full of lies), where the 24 hour coffee place is on the way to the summit, how afraid your driver is of fire. 

What was that last one again?  Odd but true: if your driver has a deep seeded fear of fire your entire morning may become derailed.  Here is how:  you are driving in the pitch black of the morning having gotten up at an ungodly hour, lets say 4am (having slept through 2 alarms completely and lied to yourself about the third).  You see an interesting cloud formation in the valley.  Your driver comments on how pretty it is and wonders what the glow at it's base could be.  You gain higher ground and confirm that it is in fact a small fire.  Your driver immediately begins to question if you should turn around and go home so that you don't get stranded on the mountain.  The mountain is still 18 miles away. 

Here is my general rule of thumb;  I got up before Jesus today, I am going up the damn mountain. 

At this point it is quite helpful to have a background in hostage negotiation or dealing with actors.  The two situations are really more alike then you may think.

Step one: 

Assessing level of threat/fear - joke "I had no idea you were so afraid of fire."  Hope for bravado! Bravado means they don't want to admit fear and will work harder to prove lack of fear.  Bravado is your friend, until it storms back into it's trailer.  What do I get?  Admission.  Admitting fear means there is not enough reverse psychology in the world to make a person do something.  Admission is NOT your friend. 

Step two: 

Finding out what they want.  Pretty simple - to go back home.  This is in direct opposition to what you want so you must press on. 

Step three:

Logic.  This step gets you nowhere but it has to be taken.  It's like turning your computer off and then on after it eats your term paper.  It isn't going to fix anything but before you throw it through the window and call the IT Crowd you have to at least try. 

Step four: 

Reassurance.  As you have all probably guessed, this one is not my best subject.  When asked to google "fire" and "Maui" I roll my eyes.  It's dark but I'm pretty sure the sentiment carries the two feet across the car.  I google.  As we are climbing a mountain my reception is patchy.  No giant headlines about Maui going up in flames.  Still the fear rages unabated.

Step five: 

Miraculous resolution!  A car pulls up behind us to also go to the summit.  This makes the world right once again!  Surely if the fire were bad no one else would try to go up. The fear is quashed.  We forge ahead on our merry way. 

Words can't really describe how gorgeous it was at the summit.  There was a throng of pajama-ed and slippered tourists wrapped in beach towels waiting at the edge when we got there.  It was oddly still.  As the sun climbed higher so did the chatter, but somehow it was solemn.  When the orange glow cracked the clouds a park ranger did a Hawaiian chant as a welcome or thank you and officially wished us all a good day. Immediately afterward the crowd dispersed heading out to hot breakfasts or warm beds.

After getting stuck behind no fewer than five bicycling tours heading down the mountain we continued on our quest to conquer the Neighbor Islands.  Makawao is a tiny town not far from the B&B we are staying in.  It is full of little shops that open when they feel like it and sell the usual assortment of souvenir goods though they do so with character and on occasion panache.  There are three types of business here:  food service, clothes, art.  The crown jewel of the morning was watching the glass-blowers work.  A boy once told me I was terribly esoteric.  After chatting about glass-blowing for a half hour I am beginning to think he was right.  I assure you the clerk was impressed though.

The rest of the day had food and rainbows.  Detours to swing by local hangouts that were closed.  Finding the elusive golden sand (otherwise known as regular sand.  Generic.  Vanilla.  Sand).  Banyan trees and Edison films.  As an added bonus we visited the whaling town where Herman Melville used to go whoring.  And that is how you sight-see Lexi-style. 

Dear LA Apartment

I know you think I don’t love you anymore but I do.  I love the new yellow walls in the bathroom, and the burnished bronze fixtures. I know it was a little painful getting rid of the old stuff but you look so good now.  I love the shelf in the kitchen with that perfectly polished piece of plexi the boys in the shop cut for us.  Not to be too risqué, I love the bed most off all.  Plush.  Fluffy.  Sumptuous.  Bed.  I dream of your bed and the fact that I don’t have to share you with anyone.  I  can nestle in its comforting soft goods for days and no one will interrupt us.  On occasion bed and I even share a pint of ice cream.  Oh, your bed is the best. 

I am writing to you from Maui.  I am sharing a room with my friend Jami.  Don’t worry, we are just friends.  I’m not going to leave you.  Especially after having spent every waking hour with my friend for the last 4 days.  You know how much I love my privacy LA Ap, you know.  That is not to say that we aren’t having fun, but no cottage, no couch, no seat in a plane can compare with you.  I see you each time I close my eyes.  Blue walls, red couch, black framed photos, hardwood floors.  I hear you in those moments of quiet solitude when I am either alone, or my friend and I are in time out.  I think of exactly where I am going to put my new souvenirs when I get back to you.  Oh, LA Ap, I miss you.

But let’s not be maudlin or dwell on what is yet to come (3 more days until at last we reunite).  Let us discuss the good things in where we have been.  You’ve had some alone time to work on yourself.  The exterminator may have come.  Perhaps you’ve had a checkup from the apartment manager?  I’ve been places and seen things.  I have been on A LOT of airplanes.  Today I did both.  We left the Big Island at 7am and got to Maui at 9am.  Then there was a lot of driving to be done – we covered the entire eastern part of the island. A little under 10 hours of driving for Jami.  She always liked to drive (I blame her twin sister’s early commandeering of the family vehicle for this).  I figure she will let me know when she wants to rest.  We visited a red sand beach on our quest to see all 5 colors before we head back to O’ahu.  We visited Charles Lindbergh’s grave.  She drove one of the craziest roads in Hawai’i. We bought t-shirts.  It was a very full day.

Tomorrow we are getting up ridiculously early to go watch the sunrise from the top of the volcano/mountain at Haleakela National Park (Apartment, I love that you don’t judge me for my inability to spell).  I promise you this, when we are huddled in a car while wearing all of the clothes that we have brought with us on this trip to keep from freezing, I will be thinking of you.

Yours, always,

LO

Of lava, cool to the touch

Today was the day.  Today was the day this Midwesterner was going to see lava.  It was going to be epic.  I was going to see heat rising from orange ropes of liquid hot magma.  I would hear the hiss of the steam created when the lava met the sea.  At night, I would eat s’mores by the glow of the cooling seepage.  Not so much.

 I am here to tell you that even though the volcano is technically erupting the only observable surface activity at this moment is a smoking cinder cone and some kind of cool steam vents.  That is not to say that this leg of the trip has been a bust.  Oh contrare mon frair. Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park is awesome to its smoking core.  There are massive craters here (one of which is admittedly a dud) where you can see the edges of lava lakes.  There are hollow lava tubes you can explore Indiana Jones style.  You can hike to the end of the road, which is not actually where the road ends so much as where the road becomes buried under lava and is impassable by vehicle.  You can hike over a lot of the cooled lava which looks like giant welds over a lunar landscape. The view from the cliffs is pretty spectacular as well.  The park is worth the price of admission and worth the hassle of a flight from Honolulu.

Activities outside of the park today involved checking out the Mona Lau macadamia nut factory, a black sand beach and a waterfall.  The driveway to the factory is three miles long and takes you through a macadamia plantation.  Every few hundred feet there are little fun facts posted along the road classic Bryl Cream ad style.  You can also take a factory tour but it was closed for the day.  I felt cheated as this was as close as I would ever get to reenacting the key scenes of my favorite character from Willy Wonka – Veruca Salt.  Such is life.

Then it was off to a beach for a little more sand larceny and a turtle sighting.  Sand larceny you say? Fine, more like petty theft but larceny has such a dramatic ring to it.  While many places state you should “leave only footprints, take only memories (or photos or whatever)” I have yet to see such a sign in Hawai’i.  We did hear tell of such a sign implying a large fine for those apprehended in the act of relocating sand from the beach to an unspecified location.  However since that sign was never viewed by myself or my companion its existence remains hearsay.

The waterfall was lovely but a bit of a cheat as far as such things go.  This may sound odd coming from me, but I think waterfalls are something you have to earn.  You need to drive out of your way or hike a mile or solve pi to the 7 digit or something.  This waterfall, Rainbow Falls, required driving 2 minutes off a well-marked road to a parking lot and walking 15 feet.  Even the stairs to get to the top of the fall were  easy to navigate.  Such victories just feel hollow.  The pictures are nice though.

Laundry duty called us back to the lodge early tonight as we fly out to Maui tomorrow bright and early and really needed to wash yesterday’s adventure off our clothes before we packed.  Those of you paying special attention may notice I said Maui and not Kaua’i.  Slight change of plans. You see Maui is where the other national park is.