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| When I say fall, what do you invision? |
It’s been a while since the last entry, but not because I
haven’t been out and about doing memorable things. Merriam provided a great
bookend to the Sierra Alpine season, which brought with it the ambivalence of
Summer’s end: Sadness to call an end to running around our nation’s mountain
ranges in short sleeves looking for fun things to do in great weather
contrasted by the excitement of watching trees turn their golden, red and
orange hues, the crispness of the air, and a shift to different activities.
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| The fall colors aren't restricted to the trees |
First stop was a trip back east to see good friends tie the
knot and to see friends and family in New England. There’s nothing quite like
driving through townships established in the 18th century with grass
being the only thing making their town greens green – their aged soft- and
hardwood canopies painted with the palette of fall as the birches, sugar maples
and oaks usher in the fall and winter months. A great time of year to put on a
sweater – and a rain jacket, as it turned out – and enjoy the company of family
and friends at home.
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| A typical October scene in New England |
I was greeted at home with new technology, and something for
which I’m most proud of my parents: Taking advantage of state incentives to
make their home more sustainable and self-sufficient, I got to observe the
installation of a 5kW solar system on the roof of the garage. What was
previously a south-facing slant of asphalt shingles is now a functional and
aesthetic black silicon power plant that through the photoelectric effect is
now making the electric company pay my parents, instead of the other way
around.
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| Panels to turn the meter backward |
For someone who works in the renewable energy industry, I’m
excited to see those closest to me taking steps to improve the earth, and we
all get the geeky entertainment of logging directly into the system to see its
output when the sun comes out and watch the meter on the side of the house turn
backwards…swiftly.
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| A macintosh that doesn't have to apologize for its maps app: I love eating |
A wedding happened in a part of New Jersey that I didn’t
even know existed. Here I thought the state consisted of a turnpike, an aged
and antiquated casino city, and a garden of industry helping to fuel the greater
New York City metropolitan economy. What I witnessed was plucked from a movie
set: rolling, manicured hillsides with old wood fences penning in horses and
giving stately presence to the splendid homes of the 1%. Throw in a fine
celebration to mark the union of two great people, reunion with an old friend,
and the Jersey trip was well worth the effort.
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| Don't let a little overcast get you down: go find a new trail on Snake Mountain and make sure Dad is on board |
One doesn’t vacation to New England in the fall to get
immaculate weather. Usually there are at least a few brisk, sunny days making
strolls through the foliage-bedecked hills mandatory, but even I was surprised
to return to Vermont to two solid weeks of either rain or heavily-overcast
skies. No matter, as the hospitality was more than warm, stomachs were never
not full of the finest homemade goods, the seasonal fruits and vegetables
heavenly and the fall colors better than any impressionist rendition. Besides,
people flock to the desert southwest for the sunshine and warm temps, which is
exactly what was next on the agenda.
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| Did I mention I love eating? |
The flight pulled into Vegas on time…just in time, actually,
for more rain and low pressure. Yes, rain in Vegas, and after stops for
provisions, that rain continued all the way to Zion National Park. The best of
intensions for rock climbs in that incredible cathedral of sandstone were for
not: Three straight days of rain meant the stone was saturated. For both safety
and proper climbing etiquette, climbing classics on wet sandstone is to be
avoided, so after a perusal of the walls, Ian and I decided our plans for Zion
would have to wait, as the necessary weather and time windows were not in our
favor.
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| How do those things exist? |
No matter: with the road winding through the park closed to
all motorized traffic except for tour busses, what cyclist in their right mind
would not pedal the miles of red chip seal with nary a car in sight? Certainly
not this guy: One of our country’s most beautiful parks, and some of the best
views to take in while breathing fresh air and cutting through the Virgin River
Canyon on two wheels was not to be missed. Especially poignant was the
post-apocalyptic visions of an entire two-laned roadway with only periodic
pedestrians and cyclists. Where are all the cars? Who cares? Not me.
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| I don't see any cars here...nor did I for 12 miles |
Not a surprise to see the Trek cycling vacations van parked
at a local hotel.
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| Bryan decided it was time to stick our mits into some sandstone |
With the Zion plans postponed to another season, it was time
for the annual pilgrimage to the sandstone paradise that is southeast Utah.
There is something about the glowing red sandstone of that part of the world -
Arches and Canyonlands National Parks, Castle Valley, the Fisher Towers and
Indian Creek to name a few highlights – that feels like home.
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| Who loves fall in the desert? This guy |
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| Maarten says it's time for some towers |
Sure home
has always really been New England, but the red hues of an exposed petrified
sea floor have a special way of drawing you back, and reluctance to see you leave.
When driving across the southern Utah high desert, I’m struck by how there are
actually billboards I like: they are billboards telling the story of millions
of years of geological history, they are everywhere you turn and they force you
to get out of the car and stare in wonder while making your face hurt from
smiling so much.
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| Billboards I can tolerate |
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| Where the jamming is so damn good |
Enough with the frothy eloquence: To Moab and to Indian
Creek to be humbled by splitter cracks gracing Wingate walls. Days of climbing
desert cracks never cease to provide at least two things: ample humble pie and
reminders of how there is always room to get stronger at something. Desert life
is simple, mostly made up of minimal ingredients: sleeping, climbing, eating,
reading, conversations, story telling and a touch of tomfoolery. Throw them all
together with a group of great people in a dramatic and mostly pristine
landscape and you have the recipe for an unforgettable experience. Highlights included Ancient Art in the fishers, and lots of milage on many walls in the creek.
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| "Damn I love the desert" |
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| The views indicate you're in the right place |
Alas, unlike some who call that part of the country home for
months, I had to make my visit more temporary, and schedules had me fleeing
westward back to the Sierra. For anyone making the trek across the southern
Utah desert, it’s worth the detour to check out Monument Valley. It’s not a
wonder that our Native American friends hold such reverence for that area: The
towers are improbable, and the views majestic. The very existence and shape of
the Mittens, the Totem Pole, the North Window all defy logic, and demand at
least an hour of detour time in the trek from points a to b.
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| Worth the detour |
After ogling and picture taking, it was time to express to
the Eastside. Next came trips over to the Bay and Lovers Leap, and before I
knew it, fall was coming rapidly to a close. Cool temps in the Sierra got
cooler and snow blanketed nearly everything, which means it’s time for another
season change, and here’s hoping for the coldest, snowiest season in memory.
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| Lauren squeezes in one last lap on the granite before the temps drop and the snow falls |
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| Still eating...this time a platoon of gingerbread soldiers |
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| Fall, it's been great this year, and I bid you adieu 'til next |
