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?
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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