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This blog chronicles our travels and overland experiences.

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The Smoky Mountain Road on The Grand Staircase

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This trip was scrubbed two weeks ago when it was originally scheduled due to the unplanned surgery reattaching my left biceps tendon. So it's with great relief to get to a point where we could make this little overland trek in a minimum of pain. As with any adventure that takes us east out of St. George, this Grand Staircase trek took us through Zion Canyon. The idea was to drive to Escalante, Utah, where the trailhead to the Smoky Mountain Road can be found down a side street not far from the BLM offices on the south side of town. We're always glad to get back on the road or back on the water, to move, explore, share, talk, eat, sleep and drink in the proximity of each other. Mindy was able to get off work earlier than expected giving us a head start and putting us in Escalante a couple of hours ahead of time. The plan was to camp at Escalante Outfitters, a barely-an-acre parcel set up for tents, not RTTs. So we camped in the parking lot, fully warned that a weddin
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Our Hie to Kolob

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We first camped here two weeks ago when my daughter joined me for an overnighter and line-wetting at Kolob Reservoir. This, for the most part, is a locals’ secret, with much consternation should anyone reveal the secret handshake that is Kolob in general. Even the National Park Service seems to speak in whispers about this area. Kolob Terrace defies description and has been in a perpetual tug-of-war between NPS, BLM and the People. And seeing of what all three of these parties are capable, maybe it’s a good thing. The name Kolob comes up unrecognizable in my spell-check because it’s origin defies any kind of mainstream description. In short, it’s the planet closest to heaven according to Mormon scripture. Indeed, an apt nomenclature for a place this beautiful. But, I didn’t photograph the area, just the environs of the campground at Lava Point, a name much more to the point. The camp is close to complete after a redo with the sale of the Montero , starting from scratc
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that curvy undulating ribbon of black

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My sisters used to play guitar and sing Peter, Paul and Mary's 500 Miles , a folk song that would haunt my earliest dreams as a four year-old kid. The memory of the dream is still pretty vivid; I'm on a road walking west to the horizon and it's getting dark. The feeling is even more vivid, a combination of fear and purpose. Throw in the Mamas & The Papas' California Dreaming and the sum for me is the reason I'm still drawn to the West Coast. That, and being land-locked in the Southwest. If you've been reading this blog you'll know we've been making the best of that as well. Mindy's always been patient and tolerant enough to go along for the ride. A trip we've been planning to Eugene to pick up our daughter from Duckland for a break turned into a trek up the northern extension of the Pacific Coast Highway; the Shoreline Highway, the Redwood Highway and the Oregon Coast Highway, that curvy undulating ribbon of black that forces all your
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