The Last Hurrah

We finally made it to our final stop today, Niagara Falls. After (stupidly?) driving through Canada and being harassed by overzealous guards at the border crossings, we drove across the bridge to a breathtaking view of the Falls. We saw plenty of other waterfalls along the way, but nothing we've seen can even come close to comparing to the grandeur of Niagara. While they are not the tallest waterfalls we've seen (Tower Fall in Yellowstone, for example, was almost twice as tall), they certainly make up for their height in pure volume and power. Whereas the ones we saw before were small streams of water trickling down the side of a mountain, Niagara Falls span the entire Niagara River, and the amount of water and the power and pressure with which the water gushes over the steep cliffs is simply astounding.

Upon entering the park (which, inexplicably, is only a state and not a national park), we were able to walk to the very edge of the river and see the the top of the falls. From above, it pretty much looks like the river just stops. You can see that it's still flowing, but the drop is so steep that you can't see any of the water once it goes over the edge. To better see the actual waterfalls, we headed to the observation tower and boat ride, appropriately called Maid of the Mists. The boat sets out from the calm of the river beyond the waterfalls, and sails right along the bottom of both sets of falls (one American, and one Canadian, but both equally amazing). While the boat remains about 100 feet away from the bottom of the waterfalls, the water is so powerful that every passenger is provided with a poncho to protect themselves from the heavy mist and spray caused by the force of the water hitting the bottom of the fall. The spray is so strong, in fact, that it bounces about halfway back up the height of the waterfall. Upon exiting the boat ride through the observation tower, you are provided with one final magnificent view of the waterfalls, clearly seeing both the river at the top of the falls and then the water just plummeting right over the cliff.

Since this was our last stop on our trip, I'm going to plug the photos one more time (http://www.flickr.com/photos/daphneseesamerica/), and even if you haven't been looking at them all along, I strongly recommend these. It is the only way (short of seeing them in person) to even get an inkling of an idea of just how massive and powerful these waterfalls are.

Final Counts

states driven through: 28

states visited: 20

P.S. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!

Lions, Tigers, and Bears, Oh My!

No, we didn't go to any more zoos or see any more animals. From Minnesota we next made our way to Chicago (home of the Bears) and then Detroit (home of the Lions and Tigers). You can thank Mike, ironically the lesser sports fan of the two of us, for pointing that one out. Anyway, back to Chicago.

Since we were only there for one night, we arrived early enough to do at least a little sightseeing. I, for one, really wanted to see the Bean, located in Millennium Park just a short walk from our hotel. If you don't know, the Bean is a giant, metallic, gleaming sculpture in the shape of, what else, a bean, that has the most amazing reflective quality. It somehow manages to keep the reflection of the Chicago skyline fairly normal while subtly distorting the hundreds of people crowding around it for photos (us included). For the most part, the Bean is pretty much what you would expect based on that description, but what's really cool about it is the underside. Picture a bean with its arch up in the air, creating a space underneath between the two sides of the arch. Now imagine sticking a fork into the bottom of the arch of the bean, but not far enough to puncture through the top. When you remove the fork, you would have a sort of cavity in the underside of the bean. That's what the Bean is like inside, except it's practically impossible to tell by looking at it, since all of the reflection makes it look just like the regular underside of a bean (like without punching that hole in it with the aforemetioned fork). So how do I know this then, you might ask? Well I wouldn't, if it wasn't for the guy throwing his shoe up to the ceiling in the middle of the Bean trying to figure out just how tall it was. I do have to admit that it was a pretty surreal experience to see a shoe go flying up well past where you thought the ceiling should have been.

After the Bean, we explored a bit more, saw some more of the park and the Chicago River, as well as the Chicago Tribune building and Chicago's NBC studios. On our way back towards the hotel we passed by and were going to eat at a Pizzeria Uno (which famously originated in Chicago), but it seemed that lots of other people had the same idea, so we decided to go to Pizzeria Due across the street instead. And no, I am not kidding. Apparently, when Uno became so popular as the home of the deep dish pizza, the owner opened Due across the street to service the overflow, which it obviously continues to do to this day. Because how can you visit Chicago and not have deep dish pizza?

And that was it for Chicago. Short but sweet. We left there early this morning to head for Detroit, and one of Mike's much anticipated stops: the Henry Ford Museum. Our plan was to go on a factory tour of one of the assembly lines used in the actual production of Ford trucks (although it was not actually producing today), but due to a long drive and a failure on our part to account for the time difference when planning, we arrived at the museum about two minutes after the last tour left for the day. This would have been much worse if the factory had actually been productive today. But at least we got to see the museum. Now I'm not much of a car person, and this was much more a stop for Mike, but even I have to admit that it had some cool stuff. In addition to the standard old cars you would expect (Mike was very excited about the first Mustang ever made), they had the old presidential limos, including the one where JFK was shot, and some old trains and planes too. Plus, in the places where they displayed the old cars, they tried to create an era-appropriate atmosphere, with old billboards, diners and gas stations surrounding the cars. And the good news is, our pre-ordered tickets for the factory tour are good for a year, so maybe we'll get to come back and use them after all. Although who really wants to vacation in Detroit?

states driven through: 28

states visited: 19

Shop Till You Drop

So today was the much anticipated trip to the Mall of America, the biggest mall in the country, inexplicably set in the middle of nowhere, Minnesota. Being the, shall we say enthusiastic, shopper that I am, and not being content with the ginormous in its own right Palisades mall right in my backyard, I've pretty much wanted to go to the Mall of America since it first opened in 1992, but not even I could justify a trip for the sole purpose of visiting a mall. So what better time to go than when we practically have to drive right past it anyway?!

For those of you like me who want to come to Minneapolis for the sole purpose of going to the mall, I will tell you right now not to do that. Although of course if you happen to be in or around the area, it would be silly not to go, I mean it is the biggest mall in the country after all. But despite that, it's pretty much just a mall like any other mall, except it has an amusement park right smack dab in the middle of it making it much harder to get from one side of the mall to the other. See the mall is laid out pretty much like a square, with one anchor store in each corner (I didn't know anybody in Minnesota could afford Nordstrom or Bloomingdales!), stores around the perimeter, and the theme park in the middle. So if you want to get from one side of the square to the other, you can't just walk straight across but rather have to walk halfway around the perimeter of the square.

But other than this amusement park and an indoor miniature golf course, there's really nothing super special about it. And since we weren't there to do any serious shopping, I have to admit I was a little bit disappointed. Especially because, after looking at the store directory online, I was expecting there to be a store solely devoted to jigsaw puzzles, but which had closed unbeknownst to me. There were several other game type stores though (which made both Mike and I pretty happy), including one that introduced me to the largest commercially marketed jigsaw puzzle. That's right people, there is a puzzle larger than the 13,000 piece one I have already completed, and larger than the 18,000 piece one that's in progress right now. Yes, this puzzle is 24,000 pieces. Sadly, I couldn't buy it because 24,000 puzzle pieces take up a hell of a lot of space and Daphne is already overflowing. But rest assured, it will soon be ordered from the internet, ready to offer hours and hours of puzzling over where to find the space both to assemble and then hang a 14 foot monstrosity.

But I digress. Despite my disappointment, I'm glad I got to see the Mall of America, if for no other reason than that it no longer holds that allure over me. Even if they ever finish what they call a phase II expansion (which includes a theater, an ice rink, a water park, three hotels and a connecting bridge to the already existing Ikea across the street), I'll still know that a mall is just a mall, and I won't ever have to wonder just how big it is again.

states driven through: 26

states visited: 17

Buffalo Country

Part I- Yellowstone National Park

Yellowstone National Park, the country’s first national park, might also be the best. Nestled in the conflux of Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming (thus defining ‘the absolute middle of nowhere’), Yellowstone National Park is situated within the ancient mouth of a supervolcano, a ticking timebomb that features prominently in the (formerly known as) History Channel’s oddball ‘2012’ mythology. While this long-dormant caldera hasn’t shown any signs of serious activity in the last 600,000 years, it’s very presence fuels the geothermal events that make Yellowstone so extraordinary.

Deep below Yellowstone, magma from the Earth’s mantle is pressing upwards, working its way through the rocks and superheating the water table. As the water temperature rises, so too does pressure. When the pressure is high enough, the superheated water will burst forth from the earth as a geyser. The same principles can be applied to something as small as a tea-kettle or as large as a steam locomotive.

More than half of the world’s geothermal sites are within Yellowstone National Park. That’s a pretty amazing claim, but if Wikipedia says it, it must be true! The most extraordinary example of this geothermal activity are the world famous geysers, such as Old Faithful, which sends a 100’ plume of water and vapor into the air every 91 minutes. Other geysers exist in the park; most smaller than Old Faithful and none of them as predictable. The park also contains other features, such as cauldrons (bubbling lakes), mudpots (boiling puddles) and fumaroles (holes in the ground with steam coming out). Some of these are full of mud, others have water stained red, blue, or green by minerals. Some make noise, like Dragon’s Mouth, a small cave-like structure that constantly belches out hot water, smoke, and gurgling growls.

Another unforgettable aspect of Yellowstone National Park were the travertine springs; massive, natural fountains made of hardened minerals that rise up above the surrounding landscape like great roman fountains. Other travertine springs bubble forth from hillsides, coating the slope in a layer of stone that looks like a natural staircase, slick with rain. Finally, some travertine springs rise up with no shape or structure, looking like little more than 15’ tall piles of fat and gristle (Is it too soon to make an Anna Nicole Smith liposuction joke?).

Yellowstone is famous for its bears, but we didn’t see any, only signs warning about their hunger. Interestingly, bears are not the most dangerous animal in Yellowstone; the buffalo injure/kill five times as many tourists each year as the bears. It’s time to step up your game, Yogi.

We saw Buffalo in force here, doing the things that buffalo love, such as standing, stomping, snorting, and chewing pensively. It’s hard to appreciate the size of a buffalo until you see one up close, and the buffalo of Yellowstone are more than happy to accommodate. They have little fear of cars or people, and don’t feel the need to clear the streets to allow cars to pass.

Yellowstone National Park was a great side-trek on our adventure, and I really wish we’d had just a little more time to relax and take in the scenery. Oh well, at least we’ve got pictures and memories!

Part II- Welcome to South Dakota

Do you know South Dakota’s state animal? The Buffalo, perhaps? The Coyote, maybe? The Wolf, or the Bear? No, no, no, and no (but close). It’s the Biker.

Every year, in the first week of August, up to 750,000 Bikers migrate to South Dakota to attend the Sturgis Rally. Although the core of the herd is composed of competent and skillful riders, the majority of the flocks of these magnificent beasts are inexperienced and foolhardy, falling off their bikes and mangling themselves in a vain attempt to impress females and old hands alike. Like buzzards circling above, ambulances from cities hours away wait for the inevitable. At the end of the week, up to 748,000 Bikers ride home to places as far as New Jersey, returning to their humdrum existence for another year. And although you may never read about this seasonal migration in the pages of National Geographic, we witnessed it firsthand.

There are 812,000 South Dakotans. The Sturgis Rally almost doubles the state’s population. Imagine trying to drive, well, anywhere, if the population suddenly and inexplicably doubled. It’s chaos, pure and unadulterated. Keep this in mind as you read our posts about South Dakota.

Part III- South Dakota’s Greatest (and only) Landmark

Mt. Rushmore is pretty much what one would expect: a huge mountain with the faces of four of the most influential US presidents carved into it. In person, I found it to be both smaller and more detailed than I had expected. Mt. Rushmore is art on the largest scale, a beautiful and uplifting tribute to our own American heritage. You can see it in all it’s splendor from the nearby roads: Iron Mountain Road approaches it dead on from the south, providing numerous vistas where the presidents are framed by tunnels and valleys in a truly awesome display of engineering and natural beauty. Needles Highway provides a much closer, more unobstructed view, less magnificent but more camera friendly, since its close enough for your 1.3 megapixel iphone to make out the details.

The racket operated at the foot of the mountain, on the other hand, is a total and utter disappointment- kind of like finding out Topher Grace was in Predator 3. You see, it turns out that Ted Stevens isn’t the only politician that can (could) divert funding and exploit loopholes- Mt. Rushmore’s admissions system is set up in such a way that your mandatory donation does not go to the National Park Service (that manages the site) but rather to an ‘organization’ that ‘oversees’ and ‘maintains’ the parking facilities. What a load of horseshit. To add insult to injury, there isn’t enough parking, thanks to the bikers, but you don’t find that out until after you shell out ten dollars, so instead, you sit in your car for 10 – 30 minutes until you can finally squeeze into a space. After parking, you walk for five minutes to see the exact same thing you can see from the road. Same exact angle, only about 100’ closer (still ½ mile away). There’s no trick, no magic, no bells nor whistles. You just wasted ten dollars and forty minutes to see what you saw on your way in.

Part IV- Even More Caves, Even More Buffalo

Today, we went to Wind Cave National Park and Custer State Park. I didn’t know that Wind Cave even a National Park until we planned this expedition, so I had my reservations going it.

The visitor center was small, and reminiscent of Howe Caverns. Not that Howe Caverns is a bad place, it’s just not what you’d expect from the National Park Service. We signed up for a cave tour and went outside to wait under a pavilion with about 50 other spelunkers-to-be. We were soon joined by our friendly and tomboyish guide, who introduced us to the site and began the tour. We also learned (the hard way) that there were a bunch of unsupervised high school brats on the tour, taking a quick break from nerd camp to enjoy the cave. Chief amongst them on the annoying scale was a loud know-it-all she-geek who insisted on speaking IN A VOICE THIS LOUD SO EVERYONE KNEW HOW SMART AND COOL SHE WAS. By the time we reached the natural entrance (1 minute later), I wanted to toss her in and be done with it. They asked questions like “how is it a natural park if there are buildings in it?”, repeated the tour guide word for word in attempts to out-nerd each other, and refused to shut the hell up when she was trying to speak. As the tour went on, she became decidedly less and less friendly; a sentiment I as a retired teacher can completely sympathize with.

Unfortunately, none of them suffered any catastrophic accidents, lending further evidence to the fact that I don’t have any psychic powers. However, by hanging back at the tail end of the group, we were able to put some distance between us and them and enjoy the natural splendor that surrounded us. Wind Cave is beautiful, entirely distinct from the other caves I’ve been in. It formed under dryer conditions, and thus lacks the familiar stalagmites, stalactites, flowstone, etc. of most other caves. Instead, Wind Cave has an exceedingly rare formation called boxwork- and it has a monopoly on it. 95% of all the boxwork in the world is found in Wind Cave.

Boxwork is made of narrow, delicate ribbons of calcite that hang from the ceiling an inch or two, and run relatively straight in crisscrossing patterns across the entire room. Boxwork forms when calcite hardens in the cracks of broken limestone. When the limestone dissolves, all that remains is the calcite, a negative-image of the cracks that one permeated the stone. Another way to think of it is like this: Imagine that you build a brick wall. As you build it, you fill the cracks between bricks in with mortar. If you then sprayed the wall with an acid that dissolved only the bricks, you would be left with a crisscrossing pattern of mortar- essentially, boxwork.

The tour was pretty short, and we quickly elbowed our way into the elevator to get away from the nerd herd. We adjusted to the 50˚ temperature jump and continued on our way to Custer State Park.

"Hurrah boys, we've got them! We'll finish them up and then go home to our station."

The famous last words of Lt. Colonel G.A. Custer, the disastrously aggressive commander of the US 7^th Cavalry, before splitting his forces into a ‘Hammer and Anvil’ attack routine and attacking an encampment of Lakota, Arapahoe, and Cheyenne in a vainglorious bid to evict them from the gold-rich Black Hills of Dakota. It went down like this: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/4d/Custer.gif.

Since these were his last words, and since you, dear reader, have the internet and therefore do not live under a rock, I don’t need to tell you that Custer didn’t survive to go back to his station. At least he got a state park named after himself for the Indians efforts.

The Indians are gone, but Custer State Park is home to a huge herd of buffalo- about 1500 individuals. They make the buffalo of Yellowstone look positively modest in comparison, as they have no fear of people or cars whatsoever. They stand near and in the road, and even look both ways before crossing the street. However, they don’t always make it completely across, and tend to stop in the middle of the road, blocking traffic and posing for pictures until a ranger comes by and chases them off. Being within touching (goring) distance of such enormous animals is a pretty amazing experience, making Custer State Park the most memorable part of Wyoming/South Dakota and inspiring the name for this series of posts, ‘Buffalo Country.’

Part V- Buffalo (not NY)

The American Buffalo, Bison Bison, also (and more specifically) known as the Bison, is North America’s largest native mammal. Maybe. I don’t have internet here so I can’t confirm that. But it sounds right, unless Moose are bigger than I imagine. And Polar Bears, too. Anyway, the American Buffalo, Bison Bison, also (and more specifically) known as the Bison, is among North America’s largest native mammals.

Much like the impoverished city at the western tip of New York, buffalo haven’t had it easy. Prior to the arrival of westerners (and horses) in the Americas, the Indians used ‘Buffalo Jumps’ to hunt. ‘Buffalo Jump’ being a PC word for cliff. They would chase an entire herd of Buffalo off a cliff, take what they needed, and leave the rest behind, reminiscent of my 3^rd grade, playing Oregon Trail and reading: ‘You have killed 256,000 pounds of meat. You can only carry 200 back to your wagon.’ Because of these tactics, Buffalo were extremely rare- so rare that Spaniard Hernando de Soto explored the American south in the early 1500’s for four years without ever seeing a single one! However, soon after de Soto’s time, rampant disease would devastate Indian communities, allowing the Buffalo to expand uncontrollably, producing the horizon-to horizon herds of the 1700’s. At this point in time, the American buffalo was the most numerous large mammal on the entire Earth!

It wouldn’t last long. Displaced Indian tribes, forced into sub-marginal and unfamiliar lands, found the Buffalo to be the only reliable source of sustenance available- in the 1830’s the Comanche were killing 280,000 bison annually. Whites joined in on the massacre as well, not only to gather cheap hides (in the pre-rubber era, buffalo skin was as good as it got for belts and pulleys) and meat but also to starve the Indians who relied solely on the herds for survival. By the late 1880’s, the Buffalo were all but extinct- some sources estimate there were less than 200 animals left. Pleas to protect the buffalo initially fell on deaf ears, and a number of private individuals took it upon themselves to save the species. From this small number of wild buffalo- and a few very kinky cows- the modern (and much more ecologically stable) population of buffalo has expanded, and the Buffalo have once more taken the rightful place on the plains. What’s left of them.

Arby's count: 9

Never Go To South Dakota In August

It's not because of bad weather (it was actually pretty nice) or because there was nothing to do (we went to like 5 different places in 2 days). No, the reason you should never go to South Dakota in August is because it was completely and totally swarming and overrun with bikers. Now I don't mean those scrawny cyclists who wear spandex and mostly keep to the side of the road since they have no hope whatsoever of keeping up with traffic. Those, I could deal with. But no. Apparently, every August in a town called Sturgis, South Dakota (which is just a stone's throw away from all the major tourist attractions in the state, which are all within an hour of each other), there is a biker rally that thousands and thousands of heavy, heavily bearded, and leather-clad motorcycle riders flock to from all over the country. And then, since they came all the way to South Dakota, well they might as well see the sights, right? So as you continue reading about all the things we saw and did in South Dakota, just imagine tons of bikers right alongside us, streaming along like cockroaches both on and off their bikes, taking over the place with their self-important attitudes acting like they own the world and the rest of us are just visiting.

We began our tour of South Dakota at Wind Cave National Park, which is apparently the fourth longest cave system in the world. Now this would be impressive, except for the fact that we saw the longest cave system in the world way back in Kentucky. But what Wind Cave has that most others, including Mammoth Cave, don't have, is this formation called boxwork. Boxwork are these skinny strips of rock hanging down from the ceiling and criss-crossing each other in every direction, forming the sides of little hollowed out boxes coming down from the ceiling. If you've ever seen one of those plastic containers that has all the little compartments for holding beads or something like that, imagine lots of those glued together in huge shapes and hanging down from the ceiling. That's kind of what boxwork looks like. Boxwork, however, was pretty much the only cool thing about this cave. It couldn't hold a candle to the other caves we've seen, and in addition to the throng of bikers I've already pointed out, we were also saddled with a group of the most inane high schoolers you've ever met; they were discussing whether this could be a natural park (yes, they confused national and natural) since they had built a visitor's center and laid a path in the cave, whether or not poison ivy was actually poison, and how one of them had broken the elevator and killed us all simply by touching a fuse box along the path. And that was all before we even went into the cave. Let's just say Mike and I did everything possible to keep as far away from those kids as we could, but there's only so far you can get without loosing the tour.

From the cave, we drove up through the park and through Custer State Park, where we saw several forms of wildlife. We passed by a herd of buffalo grazing in the grass a ways back from the road, then we saw some deer who stopped and stared at us briefly before deciding it was best to run away. Then we passed some buffalo excrement in the road, and just as Mike was saying can you imagine them actually being in the road, we round a bend and lo and behold there was another small herd of buffalo in the road and on both sides, with some of them walking across the street in front of cars and others walking along the street parallel to the cars. (And when I say cars, of course I mean about 2 or 3 cars and about 100 motorcycles). Some of them even came so close that we probably could have touched them had we stretched our hands all the way out. They didn't come nearly as close, though, as the donkeys we came upon next. One of them sidled right up to Mike's open window, rested it's head on the mirror, and was pretty much just waiting there for us to give it some food. After a while I guess it realized it wasn't getting anywhere and it moved on to the next car, or should I say motorcycle. Remember to check out our pictures at http://www.flickr.com/photos/daphneseesamerica/ if you don't believe me!

As we made our way through the park, we decided to continue on to Mount Rushmore rather than saving it for the next day, since it was still fairly early and the road through the park turned into a scenic route to the monument. See, the road has these 3 short tunnels on it blasted out of the rock, and as you come through each one you can see Mount Rushmore straight ahead of you, beautifully framed by the pine trees surrounding it. Unfortunately, we didn't find that out until today, since when we tried to do it yesterday the road was blocked off by, what else, a motorcycle accident, and we had to turn around and go back the other way. So we decided to go the Crazy Horse Memorial instead. Well let me tell you, if I were Crazy Horse I would not be happy. It's supposed to be this magnificent sculpture of Crazy Horse sitting atop his horse with his arm outstretched and pointing, but even though construction began in 1948, all you can see is his face and the painted outline of where the horse's head will be. There was also a pretty small and even more pointless museum/visitor center on the grounds, which did little more than talk about the progress (or lack thereof) of what was supposed to be the grandest sculpture in the world. Very disappointing and totally not worth the twenty bucks we paid to get in.

This morning, we decided to try that scenic route to Mount Rushmore again, and after much interference from motorcycles both on and off the road (they seem to think it's ok to just stop their bike and either look around or talk to each other right in the middle of the road), we finally made it to Mount Rushmore. After a very frustrating drive, we pull up to the gate only to find out that even though they are a national monument, they don't accept the annual pass (which is supposedly good on all federal land) and we have to pay to get in anyway. This is ostensibly because the parking lot was outsourced to some random company so we were paying for parking rather than an entrance fee, but really it's just bull shit. After trying to navigate the swarm of bikes in the parking lot for about 20 minutes, we finally get a space and enter the monument. Which looks pretty much the same as it did from the road! One might say I was not a happy camper, and one would be correct. Also, while the carving is notable for it's detail and accuracy, it's actually not as big as I expected it to be. I thought it would be enormous and overwhelming, with the faces stretching the height and length of the whole mountain; instead they are just four fairly large faces carved into the side of an even larger mountain. I was also disappointed to find out that the sculpture was never actually completed to its intended point, but work was pretty much just halted where it was upon the death of the designing sculptor and the onset of WWII. This is why Washington's whole head and shoulders are carved all the way out of the mountain, while Lincoln's face looks almost like a mask they just put on top of the mountain, not protruding any further than his ears. I would have been much happier had we simply seen it from the road and not had to pay for and then deal with the stressful mess of parking.

But the day improved as we drove a bit further east to Badlands National Park. While the bikers were still around, the crowd did thin out a bit, which was in improvement in and of itself. And the park itself is just beautiful. Like most of the beautiful sites we've seen, it defies description. But the hills and rock formations are just as beautiful as any we've seen, with magnificent stripes of color highlighted by the ridges carved into the sides. And the juxtaposition of these formations to the great plains that they inhabit is amazing, with little (or sometimes not so little) mounds of rock protruding straight up from the completely flat area around it.

Overall, I would say that the state has some surprisingly cool stuff to offer, but it is also the biggest tourist trap we have seen yet, unnecessarily exploiting millions of dollars a year from unsuspecting tourists who think they are seeing something much more spectacular than it actually turns out to be (and yes, here I am referring to both the Crazy Horse Memorial and Mount Rushmore). But, if it wasn't for the bikers, I think I actually could have enjoyed South Dakota.

states driven through: 25

states visited: 16

Jellystone National Park

Anyone who has ever watched Yogi Bear as a kid knows about Jellyst- oops I mean Yellowstone National Park. But unlike it's fictional counterpart, Yellowstone does not have friendly bears stealing picnic baskets (maybe not so friendly ones, but that's another story). Instead, it has geysers, hot springs, mud volcanoes, waterfalls and buffalo on the side of the road. But let's start at the beginning.

Our first stop in the park was the famous Old Faithful Geyser, the most reliable geyser in the park blowing on average every 90 minutes. It doesn't even matter that the people are standing and watching 5 rows thick for 360 degrees around the geyser, since it spews water so high up in the air that you could probably see it halfway across the park. And as it spews over 100 feet in the air, you can see it fan out in the direction of the wind and turn to vapor before it can even hit the ground again. Any photograph you've seen of Old Faithful won't do it justice (although a video probably would).

From there, we drove all the way up to the other end of the park to see Mammoth Hot Springs. I don't really know exactly what they are or how to explain them (sometimes I get tired of listening to all of Mike's science-y explanations of things ;) ), but that certainly didn't take away from their beauty. There were like stepped levels of limestone that looked practically like snow with brightly colored pools of water flowing over the sides and off the edges.

From there, we made a quick stop at Tower Fall, which, at about 130 feet tall, is the tallest waterfall in the park. You can only see it from a reasonable distance so it's impossible to truly understand the enormity of it, and I'm sure the tremendous power of the water streaming down the side of a cliff, but it was beautiful nonetheless. As we were driving from Tower Fall to our last stop at Mud Volcano, we drove the road through Hayden Valley, home to much of the park's wildlife. As we entered the valley, we could see two buffalo a ways back from the road, one of which even dug and rolled around in the dirt while we were watching. We thought that was cool, but we had no idea what was coming. We came around a bend to see a herd of buffalo on a hill to our right, and a line of cars that was practically stopped right in the middle of the road. As we inched along, we saw a pull-off on the left side of the road, and as the cars in front of us cleared, we saw two more buffalo standing right smack dab in the middle of the pull-off, mere feet from the road! As we kept driving, there were more pull-offs with people stopped watching buffalo far off in the distance, but we didn't stop because nothing could compare with what we had just seen. We finally made it through the buffalo craze to our last stop, Mud Volcano. This area had a few bubbling pools of mud that were once enormous geysers, but now just bubbled and steamed and gurgled in place. But it was still pretty damn cool.

Along the way to these major attractions, we saw plenty of smaller waterfalls, geysers, mud pots (where the ground had basically caved in around hot bubbling mud), and some other similar phenomenon that I don't know the scientific names or explanations for but all basically amounted to holes in the ground with water, steam, and/or mud simmering, bubbling, and/or spewing from them. Of all the parks we've been to, this is the one where I most wished we had had more time, because there's just so much to see that it's impossible to do it all in one day.

states driven through: 24

states visited: 15

California Here We Come

At the Bottom of the Foodchain –San Diego Zoo

Our first stop in San Diego was the zoo. The San Diego Zoo is home to over 800 species of animals, including the oh-so overrated Giant Panda. Giant Pandas are massive, overweight raccoons that spend 20 hours a day sleeping, and the other 4 gazing sleepily at the oohing and aahing crowds, muttering bitterly while trying to fall back to sleep.

Well, I saw the Panda. Biiig whoop. However, I also saw a lot of other species, all of which (including the trees), were far more interesting. Elephants, Rhinos, Orangutans, Bonobos, Lions, Tigers, Bears, Camels… they’re all there, in top form.

But it was the Cougar that took the prize today, and not just because there’s a badass muscle car named after it (Mustangs and Barracudas, take heed). When we first passed the Cougar’s exhibit, it was being cleaned, and the Cougar was nowhere to be seen. That sucked, and Mike was rather unhappy. However, we lingered by the other big cats for a while, and then doubled back just as the keeper was leaving the cage, trying to coax the Cougar out of it’s cave with a big, bloody leg-bone (not kidding). Unfortunately, the Cougar’s stubbornness far exceeded the keeper’s attention span, and when he left, we could barely see or hear the Cougar, who was content to enjoy his snack in the shade (did I mention it was hot? This whole trip has been hot.)

Just as we were about to leave, a little Asian girl wheeled up in her wheelchair, and the show began. A second Cougar (who knew?) stalked out from behind the rocks, with eyes locked on her prey. She made her way up a branch in the exhibit, perching herself high over the little girl. The behavior was exactly like watching a housecat stalk a mouse, except that this housecat weighs 200 pounds, can leap 40 feet from a standstill, and has been known to break a human’s neck on the initial pounce. Oh, snayp.

Of course, the Cougar knew the limitations of it’s environment, and began to show it’s frustration with increasingly violent outbursts. The girls brother decided the best course of action would be to incite the Cougar further, parading his sistter left and right as the animal became increasingly frustrated. “Watch this” he said, as the blood drained out of his sister’s face. “She won’t take her eyes off her!” he said, wheeling his panic-stricken sibling back to the place where the Cougar’s drool could almost land in her lap. Guess he never saw this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GNG3xVbMYHY video. Yup, same exact Cougar, same exact hatred of people with handicapped parking permits.

The ruckus attracted the male Cougar, who came slinking out of his cave with a meaty femur dangling out of his mouth. He watched, as transfixed as everyone else, until he realized how un-necessarily sunny it was, and headed back to his (presumably airconditioned) cave to gnaw on his bone in solitude. The female would have none of it until after the little girl was far out of view; eventually she too grabbed her bloody chewtoy and stole away. It’s hard to fully describe what its like to watching an animal that could easily kill you throw a temper tantrum because it is not allowed to.

The Pacific Ocean

As I suspected, the Pacific Ocean is much like the Atlantic, except a bit bigger, wetter, and on the other side of the US. However, it represents something far more important to us: it is the farthest single point from home that we will be. We walked out onto a pier, careful not to get snagged by any of the attendant fishermen, and gazed over the Pacific for a while, thinking about the thousands of Americans who had made the same trip as we had, but with much greater hardship, in search of a better life. As the sun began to set beyond the distant horizon, we left with a greater appreciation for our own American heritage and the great country in which we live. Then we had pizza.

Goodbye, and Thanks for all the Fish! -Sea World

Our next stop in San Diego was the world-famous Sea World. Orcas, also known as Killer Whales, are among the most intelligent animals in the world. They also have a big soft spot for fish. The net result is that they can do all manner of amazing tricks, can be told what to do with simple hand signals, and will usually do just about anything you ask for a nice, slimy fish. In the wild, they have a… unique… sense of fun*, and thanks to this trait they tend to get really into whatever they do with their trainers, like doing flips and splashing people.

We had pretty good seats at the Shamu Theater- We were close enough to see what was going on, but not close enough to get splashed with any fishy water. There were a total of 3 Orcas, doing tricks on their own and in tandem, and they put on a pretty amazing show, jumping clean out of the water to do backflips, splashing water across the first 16 rows, and even beaching and unbeaching themselves to receive a round of applause. In truth, these three whales were far more talented showmen than a lot of the reality TV stars that grace the airways, and I’ve really got to commend the trainers on the show they put on. Seaworld had some other cool attractions, including dolphins, sharks, and a few rides, including one rather interesting log-flume/rollercoaster hybrid, but the high point was without doubt the Orcas.

*They play volleyball with seals. Not, like, against a team of seals, but against each other, using a seal as the volleyball. Then they eat him. Playful doesn’t always mean nice.

Death Valley- Hotter than Hell since 1849

The people who prospected, explored, and sometimes even settled Death Valley were concise, based on the names they chose for the valley’s distinguishing features. D ‘Furnace Creek’ is as hot as a furnace, while ‘Stovepipe Wells’ is as hot as a stovepipe. ‘Badwater’ is a salty pit in the ground full of, you got it, bad water, and ‘Salt Creek’ is a dry creek bed that’s crusted with salt. And is also as hot as a furnace.

According to some sources, Death Valley is the hottest place in the world. Others are happy to argue that it isn’t- from their air-conditioned homes, of course. It all depends on how you define ‘hottest’- are we talking about hottest temperature, ever? In the sun, or in the shade? Maybe hottest average, overall? Or by hottest year average? Or by hottest average year? Median June temperatures? What?

Step foot in Death Valley, and there won’t be a doubt in your mind: this place is hotter than hell. We got into Death Valley at 10 pm; the sun was down and the sky was dark. Common wisdom holds that deserts are cold at night, so common wisdom holds that it shouldn’t have been very hot.

Common wisdom was dead wrong; it was 111 degrees. I didn’t slip an extra ‘1’ in there, it was one hundred and eleven degrees Fahrenheit. The air is hot and dry, and within seconds, your eyes and skin are, too. And that’s in the middle of the night. By day, the temperature shot up to 122 degrees, which, on the discomfort scale, is somewhere well past ‘laundromat in the summer’ and just short of ‘housefire.’

Because of these conditions, you’re not going to find a McDonalds in Death Valley, or much else for that matter. There are two small-ish resorts (only one of which is open in the summer), perhaps 3 campsites (none of which are open in the summer), a restaurant (which is open during the summer), an eccentric’s half-built castle (not open in the summer) and two gas-station/souvenir stands. That’s the extent of human civilization in Death Valley. Oh- did I mention that it’s bigger than Delaware?

Unlike Delaware, Death Valley is a beautiful place. The rocks that make up the valley walls are tinted in a dizzying array of colors that you’d only expect to find on a kid’s cartoon or a Pink Floyd music video- whites, purples, greens, blues, reds, and yellows all compete for your attention. Take a spin down ‘Artists Drive’ and you’ll feel like a mouse darting between piles of painting pigments, or head over to Zebreski Point to see the panoramic view of the Funeral Mountains in all their splendor. The vistas here are truly amazing.

And Death Valley has one little parting gift for all intrepid tourists. You see, the road out of Death Valley rises, very very slowly, on a broad alluvial fan, as it goes into the mountains. And slowly, imperceptibly even, it gets steeper and steeper. However, since the land around the road is perfectly flat, and rising at that same steady rate, it is impossible to tell that you’re going up unless you get creative and, say, use the water in an Aquafina bottle as a level. But do you know who can tell that you’re going up a stead 6% grade? Your car. Yup, as you’re leaving Death Valley, miles and miles from the nearest sign of humanity, your car begins to slow down inexplicably, getting slower and slower and wheezier and wheezier. Thus, you are left in the middle of nowhere, in 110 degree heat, in a car that is struggling to go 30mph for no apparent reason, with no cell phone service.

Thanks for visiting Death Valley National Park!

Yosemite Valley- Like Manhattan, but with Trees

Of all the national parks, I was probably most excited about Yosemite Valley. The breathtaking vistas, beautiful mountainous terrain, and numerous waterfalls all make for picture-perfect photo ops, and the small mountain creeks, dimly lit glens, and primeval sequoia groves take you back to a simpler time.

Understandably, the postcards leave out Yosemite Valley’s most notable feature: the congestion. It’s not even a matter of it being the most visited national park (it’s not- Smokey Mountains, Grand Canyon, and Yellowstone all beat it in visitors per year, just off the top of my head). It’s a simple matter of poor layout and planning that result in Yosemite Valley having the worst traffic of any place I have ever visited. Manhattan at rush-hour doesn’t even come close to the headaches you’ll find in Yosemite Valley.

Most of the roads through the valley are one-way, and they intersect and perform figure eights across the valley floor in a dizzying pattern. Wait, did I say pattern? There is no pattern, nor is there rhyme or reason. It’s a spaghetti-bowl of one-way roads, each and every one of which is overflowing with cars, some of which are parked because there is not sufficient parking in the park and Californians seem to think it’s okay to park on the side of a road with no shoulder.

The roads that are not one way by design do happen to be under construction, making them one way anyway. Even worse, the park shuts down miles upon miles of road for the simplest of routine maintenance. For example, on one road through the park, about 5 miles of road was flagged off and made one way. What was going on? A single truck was parked about 2.5 miles in, grading the shoulder. The lines back up for almost thirty minutes because nobody ever thought of having the flagmen walk behind and ahead of the maintenance vehicle, waving cars past as they came. Instead, they stand miles away, holding cars in place for half an hour before waving them through. For the first time in my life, I am forced to admit that roadwork in New York is actually rather efficient, compared to the rest of the country.

That being said, the scenery was absolutely breathtaking. Some of the high points- if you could find a place to pull off- offered captivating views of the Sierra Nevadas and the valley floor below. The mountains here are unlike those anywhere else on earth- massive gray monoliths that tower straight and tall above the lowlands they encompass. Small trails meander their way to the parks numerous waterfalls, but once again, you’re not going to be able to find parking anywhere near the trailhead. The Merced River runs through the entire park, a source of cool, fresh mountain water that accommodates swimming and tubing. There are places where you can make your way down the scree and boulders to the river’s edge and feel a million miles from the cares of the world. The eastern and northern portions of the park are home to tranquil mountain pools, ringed in by ancient forests of lodgepole pines, and each and every one could be the backdrop for a postcard. Finally, the Sequoia groves, home to the almost—tallest trees on earth, make you feel miniscule in comparison, as they tower high above you in abject defiance of the familiar world you left behind at the entrance to the grove.

Despite the peerless beauty, the bumper to bumper congestion and horrible mismanagement of simple roadwork all-but ruined Yosemite for me. It’s nearly impossible to enjoy the park when your greatest concern is not getting rear-ended by the car behind you or sideswiped by the car next to you (let alone rear-ending the car ahead of you, or being hit by those three cars that are merging into you lane to avoid the seven that are merging into theirs!) It is the first national park that we’ve been to that I can say I’d think twice before going back.

L

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