Results tagged “National Park” from Phoebe Chuason Blog

When we first drove into Mt. Rainier, we drove into grey, hazy obscurity.  We vaguely knew where Mt. Rainier was, but we couldn't exactly see it.  In fact, the volcano proved to be incredibly elusive, and we saw almost no sky until we left the National Park two days later. 

Some Longmire trails were open and pleasantly green.

Though it was nice trekking around Longmire, it became infinitely more exciting when we drove up to the higher elevation areas around Paradise.  Though we saw no sign of Mt. Rainier, we did get a brief glimpse of the Tatoosh range.  The half-buried Paradise Visitor center was actually rather spacious inside.  Accessing any of its facilities felt vaguely like I was traveling through a warren of tunnels and caves since most of it was still buried under several feet of snow.

It was exciting strapping on snowshoes and waterproof gear for a rather cold and wet tromp through the snow.  Paradise was buried under a twenty-five feet of snow, with almost five inches of fresh snow added daily.  "Saplings" in the snow were actually the tops of gigantic trees.  We traveled roughly six miles through four trails, some marked with flags and some visible only through the footprints of others.  Through it all snow fell persistently and steadily, and what was previously visible would disappear only a few moments later in a white out.  The higher you went the harder the wind blew and the harder it became to see.

For a brief moment the snow lightened a bit so we could see more of the landscape... and also how far we still had to go.  The tiny specks you see are people.

On our first day at the park we saw nary a soul, and it felt like we were the only visitors in the park.  But by the second, we saw a few alpine climbers trekking to their base camp via the glacier vista trail.  And when a tiny patch of sky broke through for a blissful hour, people turned out to play.

Though much of Mt. Rainier is closed at the tail end of a wet winter, what we did see was rather amazing.

Quite recently I embarked on a mini road trip to Death Valley with Ellen.  However, there's nothing very "mini" about this vast, seemingly desolate stretch of desert.  It is the lowest, hottest, and driest location in North America.  I was a little apprehensive because of the heat (about 113 degrees, and high 80s at night), but we had a great time and the landscape was very starkly beautiful.  Though I admit, nothing quite prepares you for the scorching heat of Badwater. 

This is a "self portrait" on a tenacious little puddle of water on the salt flats, how it managed to remain I have no idea.  A sturdy hat is necessary, as strong gusts can cause you to bid goodbye to your only source of shade.

The adaption of wildlife in Death Valley is nothing short of impressive.  Nighttime driving became and unwitting game of Frogger, as we attempted to avoid coyotes, jackrabbits, and countless mice dashing across the road.  Our accommodations were at the kitschy little Atomic Inn.

There is something very peaceful about the stillness right before sunrise, about being the first set of footprints to walk on the dunes at morning.  It's also kind of fun to run down the sides.

Others left tracks the night before. 

A few intrepid hikers managed to walk even further than we did (see if you can spot them in the picture below).

No trip to the Mesquite dunes at sunrise is ever complete without some milk tea, especially when sunrise is at 5:40am.  Thank you, Ellen.

I love the silvery sheen of the desert holly.  It's the only plant I've seen with built-in reflectors.

In Mosaic Canyon you can find marble polished to a smooth sheen from flash floods.  We took advantage of the coolness at 7am and  took a few shots from "Pride Rock" (think Lion King) and also attempted a few ill-timed jumping shots on a timer (very challenging) on Ellen's camera.

This modest, colorful restaurant in Beatty, Nevada had one of the best chili verde dishes I've had in awhile. 

Rhyolite ghost town

An eccentric house made out of glass bottles. 

The lush oasis that is Scotty's Castle is located at the northern end of Death Valley.  It's a surprising bit of luxury in an otherwise very inhospitable place.

Ubehebe crater dwarfs everything around it, and surrounds the nearby landscape with dark volcanic ash.  This doesn't quite indicate how incredibly large it is, it is roughly about half a mile wide.

As accustomed I am to light and noise, nighttime at Death Valley is a bit eerie since it's so quiet and almost completely dark.  You feel incredibly vulnerable, but then you look up, and there are no words to describe how bright the stars are.  Pictures certainly do not do it justice.