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Winter wonderland

Written by Chaz on 15 May 2012

My mother and I took a quick trip over President’s Day to Maine, one of my favorite places in the world. I have visited Acadia National Park every year of my life, visiting even before my first birthday, and it is like a second home. One of the things that excited me most about living in Boston was how close I would be. So for my first long weekend, it seemed like a logical trip to make. My mother flew into Boston from Philadelphia, and we rented a car and drove from here. We stayed with friends of ours who are lucky enough to live there.

When we made the plans, I assumed we would have snow and do winter things like snowshoe and cross-country ski. Though it was still pretty cold, there was zero snow, thanks to our very mild winter. At first I found this very disappointing, but after we stopped at L.L.Bean in Freeport and bought the poor man’s version of crampons, I realized we were actually lucky. We were able to do almost all the hiking we do in the summer. The only obstacle was that most of the park roads are closed.

We arrived late Friday night and were up early Saturday to hit the mountains in the short sunlight. We parked on Route 233 by the padlocked gate to the park’s loop road and hiked up the road the base of the Cadillac Mountain North Ridge Trail. The first mile or so of the trail was nearly entirely a sheet of ice, but despite my mother’s fearful protests, we made it safely to a beautiful view.

We made the most of our short three days, driving around the island to our favorite haunts, catching pizza and a movie at my favorite movie theater ever, and a fancier dinner at Red Sky in Southwest Harbor. We did an impressive amount outside, too — a bunch of sightseeing and small hiking after our trek on Cadillac.

I did one other longer hike the morning before we left, summiting Pemetic Mountain. It was a very different feeling than in the summer, even though the trail was very usable. I didn’t meet a single soul along the way and had to park at another padlocked gate and hike in from there. Knowing I was one of very few people to be seeing the views from the top made them even more special. Though it was cold, it was a very clear, blue day, and I could see islands and mountains for miles around.

As we left Mount Desert Island to drive home, we took a detour over to Schoodic Peninsula, the only section of Acadia on the mainland, across Frenchman Bay to the east. The peninsula, which is ringed by a six-mile loop road that makes a great bike ride in the summer and is plowed in the winter, offers sweeping views back toward the bald mountains on Mount Desert. Though we did not stay long, we felt like we had made the most of what the park had to offer in the middle of February.

We turned south, and the sun began to wane as we drove. The orange-pink light looked beautiful across the frozen surface of Lake St. George.

We capped off our trip with a dinner stop in Portland, where I had found us J’s Oyster, a seafood restaurant right on the old wharf. We each enjoyed some local brews before I dove into the seafood bouillabaisse, filled with everything the Maine ocean has to offer, and my mother tucked into something a bit more unusual. Apparently it is agains the law to sell scallops on the half-shell in the state of Maine — they have to be shucked on the boat — but our waitress has the one exception currently granted anywhere in the state. So my mother enjoyed her scallops, which had been baked into puff pastry.

The weekend was incredibly relaxing. For me, Acadia is a place where I can immediately unwind and recharge. It was also the most time I had spent outside in a couple months, and I returned to Boston rejuvenated and ready to go back to work.

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Tags: Family, Food, One with nature, Sunsets, Views

Chilean summer in December

Written by Emmy on 2 February 2012

Never ones to sit still for too long, the Liss family took off for another adventure in late December. With everyone miraculously off from school and work for the week, we set our eyes south — way south. Very late on Christmas Eve, an evening when JFK is particularly concentrated with traveling Jews, we boarded a flight bound for Santiago.

On our whirlwind tour of Chile, we planned to cover a lot of ground. We landed in Santiago early in the morning with plans to connect to a flight headed south. First we had to claim our bags, go through customs and re-check them. Simple, right? Well, as documented on many checkpoint adventures, a picnic basket for the plane is crucial. And the Liss family is always prepared. However, the Chilean border control was not so thrilled by our picnic basket of clementines. Our lengthy layover suddenly became a lot shorter once my father was finished with his official interrogation.

Finally we arrived in Puerto Varas in the southern lakes district, surrounded by mountains, volcanoes, lakes and national parks. We claimed our Chilean SUV and piled in, headed further south. Because Chile is so narrow, we passed as many signs for Argentina as we did for domestic cities (prompting my father to continuously sign the central refrain from Evita’s “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina”).

We arrived in the picturesque town of Villarica in time for a very late lunch by the lake. Following our long day of travels, we all took a rest by the waterfront under the delightful summer sun.

The town sits under the shadow of the volcano by the same name, which is still very active. Even from a distance, once the light was quite right, we could see little sulfur clouds puffing up from the snow-topped peak. Our hotel was situated just between the village of Villarica and the slightly larger town of Pucón just a few kilometers away. We explored Pucón later that day, taking in some light fare at the adorably named Mamas & Tapas and contemplating our adventuring options for the coming days.

Despite its regular activity, Villarica is a very user-friendly volcano. During the winter it serves as a ski slope and during the summer as a place for climbers, though it always maintains a thin layer of snow and ice. Climbing the whole things is an ordeal largely because of the snow. You need to start very early in the morning in order to finish before the daily melt, which can be incredibly dangerous. Most people sled down after reaching the summit.

We opted to climb from the base just up to where the first snow could be spotted, walking next to the chairlift operational the other half of the year. One of my sisters likened the experience to walking up a ski slope (which we were, in fact, doing) because of how steep the brief climb was. The view of the Andes from the (semi-)top was incredible.

We took a quick lunch break before heading out into some more nature. The region is filled with national parks and having explored the volcanos, it was time for the lakes.

Chaz and I noted while out west that America’s national parks had the bare minimum in signage; just enough to make it clear where you’re going, but not so much that it’s overbearing. Chilean national parks take a much more relaxed approach, by which I mean: there are no signs. No signs in English, no signs in Spanish, and only sheep to seek directions from.

After several wrong turns, we found what sort of looked like a hiking trail. Once on it, the signage was still pretty unclear. We knew we were walking to a lake, but we had no idea how far it would be nor did we have any confirmation that we were actually going in the right direction. We hiked for a few hours, and it’s not clear that we found our intended destination, but the scenery along the way was still pretty breathtaking.

After making our way back to the car — using not quite exactly the same route we had taken to get there — we returned to the village of Pucón for dinner. Chileans are big on grilling; most restaurants have a large sign outside advertising the parilla. We chose one such place and ordered fresh fish and steaks. I was served the largest, most aggressive piece of salmon I have ever seen. It could have easily served three people. My father took his extra steak back to the hotel to make it into a sandwich for the car the next day. We also had grilled tomatoes with parmesan cheese, which were excellent.

The next morning we set off in our vehicle for points further south. During the early part of the 1900s, for economic and political reasons, Chile experienced a mass migration from Germany, Austria and surrounding nations. As a result, some of Chile’s little villages look more like they belong in the Alps than the Andes. Cafes offer German coffees and cakes served alongside little wooden bridges and lakeside cottages. We stopped in a few villages for sightseeing and refreshment.

Our drive wound through the various lakes and volcanoes of the area and as the fog lifted, we could see Vulcan Osorno rising in the distance. Osorno is one of Chile’s largest, though it has not had an active eruption in a few decades.

During the early part of our drive Osorno had been shrouded in clouds and so when it finally emerged, we were quite pleased and turned a little bit paparazzi.

We kept driving until we hit Puerto Varas, one of the larger lakefront towns in the region and where we would be staying that evening. We planned to keep driving a bit further to one of the more famous of the region’s lakes, but decided to pause for lunch while in town.

Chileans love empanadas, which I had assumed, given that this is their place of origin. So we had a few of those and they were pretty delicious.

But what I was intrigued to learn upon our arrival down south is that Chileans love sandwiches. Sandwiches here are big and delicious and filled with things I love. Avocados are sold by the barrel down here (literally) and cost absolutely nothing compared to the going rate in the U.S. Chileans also seem to be pretty religious about their bread making. Pan casera, which translates to “homemade bread,” is found in warm, delightful abundance. Small rolls graced every table we sat down to and the larger versions were stuffed with sandwich ingredients, like my chicken, avocado, tomato delight from Dane’s in Puerto Varas.

Like most food items we had in Chile, we discovered after ordering that we could have easily ordered half as many entrees and been, collectively, just as satisfied. There is definitely a go-big-or-go-home mentality to Chilean eating.

Fighting off our sandwich-induced food coma, we piled back into the car and headed to Lago Todos Los Santos, one of the largest of Chile’s lakes and a featured item in the New York Times’ must-see in 2011 list. (We squeezed it in just under the wire.)

We arrived at the lake, which is inside another large national park, and encountered the same scarcity of information that we had dealt with the day before. The welcome station was closed (despite signs indicating that it should be open), there were no brochures available and the one posted map had been all but destroyed. We found the park’s emergency medical clinic and I tried to extract some logistical information from the chief medic. Meanwhile, my father located the boat launching station and by waving a few bills and his key Spanish vocabulary words, secured passage for the five of us.

The lake is large and beautiful, surrounded by the nearby volcanos and mountains. The lake is also quite long and if you sail its full length, will eventually find yourself in Bariloche, Argentina. However, that would have taken quite a few hours in our little motorboat and so we just puttered around a portion of it.

Had we continued further south from Todos Los Santos, we would have come to the national park found on the island at Chiloe — the furthest point north where penguins can be found. I have wanted to see penguins in their natural habitat ever since “March of the Penguins” (and also “Happy Feet”), but Chiloe was several hours away. We decided to save the waddles for another visit.

We headed back to the town of Puerto Varas for dinner. The majority of restaurants open for dinnertime bore close resemblance to the little cafe where we had eaten our colossal lunchtime sandwiches. We found a nice Mediterranean restaurant among the casual cafes and three-fifths of us ordered a stewed chicken with vegetables and a pea puree, served with the same familiar basketful of warm local rolls.

We retired to bed and early the next morning hopped back in our SUV, ending our brief, adventurous jaunt through the southern Chilean wilderness.

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Tags: Chilling with the locals, Destinations, Exercise, Family, Food, One with nature, Views

Emerging from the canyon’s depths

Written by Chaz on 7 October 2011

The alarm went off at 4 a.m., and we were up and striking camp by 4:15. We had made the decision after packing all our things the day before that we could afford to bring the requisite items for making hot coffee, and I was extremely grateful that we did. (Even if we did have to both drink the coffee straight out of the percolator.)

Though it took us a little while to take down the tent, pack everything up and tie everything back onto our backpacks, both of our packs ended up much more securely attached than they had been the day before, when there had been a little bit of uncomfortable shifting back and forth. Given that we had the much harder trek out of the canyon ahead of us, we were both happy about that.

We got on the trail at about 5:45 after filling our water bottles and making one last stop at the composting toilets at our campground. Though the sun was still at least an hour from rising over the crest of the canyon, it was already light out, and we were able to put away our flashlights nearly immediately. We made excellent time, setting a timer to ensure that we took regular stops for hydration and snacking. We took a long stop for more turkey-muenster-avocado sandwiches, and to prop our legs up, which we read helps your body drain waste products out of your leg muscles to reduce soreness. (Ew, though.) We met a few interesting people along the way and enjoyed sharing and hearing Grand Canyon stories.By the end, we were sharing our tips, experts that we had become.

Though the last, steepest 1.7-mile section after Supai Tunnel wasn’t exactly fun, the hike out really wasn’t that bad, and we returned to Dorothy in a mood of extreme triumph by about 10:15. We threw all our things in the car, refilled our water bottles, and headed back down to the North Rim Lodge, where we walked out onto Bright Angel Point to reflect on where we had just come from.

After a few more bathroom stops (that hydration really gets to you), we drove away from the rim to a picnic area that overlooks the canyon for one last meal with a view. We couldn’t resist a celebratory cocktail — we considered that we had more than earned it — and we whipped up the leftovers from Mexico night as well as some macaroni and cheese, doctored to have some Southwestern flair.

Amazing memories made, we packed everything back into Dorothy and said our goodbyes to the Grand Canyon, grateful for a wonderful visit.

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Tags: Departures, Exercise, Exhaustion, Getting a real workout, One with nature, Triumph, Views

The adventure spirit of the southwest

Written by Chaz on 5 October 2011

Our second day at the Grand Canyon started early. If there’s one thing I got better at on this trip, it was getting up early. (Actually, it was probably endurance hiking.) But we were in the car heading to watch the sunrise from Point Imperial within minutes after our 5:15 alarm. The cold was extreme, and we were both wearing every layer we had brought.

Point Imperial is the highest point on the North Rim, and we were joined there by two other extremely intense photographers to catch the sun’s first rays.

Though we had planned to make coffee at Point Imperial and enjoy the sunrise, our lighter’s premature demise prevented us from doing so, so we hightailed it back to the North Rim to visit the Rough Rider Saloon, which starts each day as a coffee shop before transitioning to a bar just before lunch hour. As we drove, the sun’s new light on the rim’s landscape looked beautiful.

We took our coffee out to the porch, where we sat on the Adirondack chairs, contemplated the canyon in front us, and began to plan our day. A young man came over to us, and seeing the way we were studying our maps, asked whether we were planning a trip into the canyon. I admitted that I was flirting with the idea of trying a short one, but that we didn’t have any real hiking backpacks, which would make it tough. He encouraged us to try it anyway. He had just completed a “rim-to-rim” hike, and said it was amazing.

Encouraged by this advice, we returned our campsite after replenishing our lighter and chocolate supply at the general store. We packed our bags with snacks and lunch for the day’s hike and drove over to the backcountry permit office to discuss our plans with a ranger.

Though the ranger seemed pretty skeptical of my plan to tie our sleeping bags onto day packs, she encouraged us to go for it. “If it were me, I would definitely do it,” she said. So we headed back to our campsite once more for a dry run of our packing system, using twine to tie our sleeping bags — which were not exactly compact models — onto our backpacks. Lo and behold, it worked, and while our packs were far from light, we decided to pull the trigger on an overnight trip down into the canyon. One quick trip back to the permit office, and we had an official permit in hand for one night at Cottonwood Campground, seven miles down the North Kaibab Trail into the Grand Canyon.

Our plans finalized, we were at last ready to start our hike for the day. We had decided to tackle the trail out to Widfors Point, which winds five miles through the North Rim forest out to a beautiful overlook. The first two miles were peppered with intermittent views into the canyon, and then we meandered through the forest for the last three before spilling out onto the end of Widfors Point, where we had lunch: turkey, muenster, avocado, cashew sandwiches and our leftover Jacob Lake Inn cookies.

We hiked back to the car and returned to our campsite, where we went into full production mode for the food we’d need for our trip into the canyon. Once we had a few things squared away, we were ready to relax for the evening, so we drove back down to the rim and ordered drinks at the Rough Rider Saloon to take out onto the porch for sunset. The Adirondack chairs were much more crowded than earlier that morning, but we managed to snag two. The pastel colors of the day’s last sunlight on the ridges of the canyon were just gorgeous.

We returned to our campsite for a long-awaited Mexico night. We had a full selection of salsa, guacamole, chips and Mexican beer to kick off dinner, and Emmy whipped up a delicious Southwestern-inspired dish of spicy chicken sausage, refried beans with jalapeño, a blend of Mexican cheeses, fresh bell peppers, onion and corn salsa. It was perhaps her best campsite creation, and went very well with our surroundings.

Taken during a daytime encore.

As we cooked, I had to make two emergency runs to the general store as we realized we had neither propane nor graham crackers. But once we were restocked, fed and s’moresed, we headed to bed early, excited and nervous for the odyssey that lay ahead.

Posted in Grand Canyon | 1 Response »
Tags: Food, Friendly natives, One with nature, Planning, Sunsets, Views

First views from the North Rim

Written by Emmy on 4 October 2011

After our brief stay in Zion, it was time to get back in Dorothy and hit the road. The journey to the North Rim wove through very quiet roads. Our map suggested we would pass several towns, but we didn’t find much more than occasional standalone gas-station-slash-motel-slash-convenience-store.

One of those one-stop shops is the famed Jacob Lake Inn, which sits about 40 miles north of the North Rim. The road to the North Rim closes during the snowy months of the year and Jacob Lake marks the turn-off for said road. The Inn is well-known for its restaurant, partly because the food is good and partly because it’s the only place for many miles.

Hours after our Angels Landing climb, we were ready to eat. I thought about ordering a chicken sandwich with feta cheese and sun-dried tomatos, but Chaz told me that was too New York for Jacob Lake, Ariz. So instead, I had the Grand Cheese — a take on the classic sandwich that lived up to its name — and Chaz had the Grand Bull, a sandwich best illustrated by its close-up below.

We also got a bag of fresh cookies to go, based on recommendations from a park ranger at Zion. We also had been passing billboards advertising Jacob Lake’s cookies for miles.

Many national parks are surrounded by national forests, and the Grand Canyon is no exception. We entered Kaibab National Forest, a vast expanse of flat lands and very dense trees, long before reaching the canyon. Kaibab translates to mean “mountain lying down” in Navajo, which is basically what the canyon itself is. I was expecting desert flowers and cacti and was sort of surprised at how lush our surroundings were, but I guess that’s what happens at elevations of over 8,000 feet, even in Arizona.

We finally reached the canyon and after briefly stopping in the visitor center, made a beeline for the overlook at the Grand Canyon Lodge. (“I need to see the Grand Canyon right now,” Chaz demanded when I asked if we wanted to set up camp first.) We walked out to Bright Angel Point, a lookout just south of the lodge, in order to get a fuller view of the canyon below.

I knew the Grand Canyon would be spectacular, but it was hard to imagine how it would really look up close. I had this image in my head of us standing on a true edge, that it would be one straight drop down and visiting would be a balancing act. Though we were suspended on the rim (with tons of railings, mom!), what lay in front of us was less of a sheer drop and more just a vast expanse of truly unique landscape. I could not get over just how big the canyon was. Stretched out in front of us, it was just so captivating and unlike anything I had ever seen before.

We went to the campsite and set up our tent. We got back in Dorothy and drove to Cape Final, another overlook point. We missed some details in our intro at the visitor center and discovered that what we thought was going to be a little walk would actually be a four-mile round-trip hike. Given that it was already late afternoon and we had plans for sunset, it was going to be a little tight. Rather than skip the walk, we decided to “beast it,” and took the path at a speed walk and jogged over some of the flat parts. Even with a brief stop at the end of the trail for an incredible view — video below! — we completed the whole excursion in just about an hour.

We hopped back in the car and motored to Cape Royal, a recommended sunset-viewing location. We brought our baggie of Jacob Lake cookies to enjoy in the dimming light.

We found ourselves in the Olympics of scenic photographers as everyone around us set up tripods and timers and long lenses for the beautiful sunset. Over the course of our many voyages together, Chaz and I have had the privilege of seeing some truly remarkable sunsets. We ran through a list while sitting atop the canyon, trying to pick out our favorites. It was hard to choose because of how different the landscapes all were. This was no exception; watching the sun dip behind the crevices of the Grand Canyon was truly a unique vision.

After lingering in the last rays of light, we made our way back the campground for a dinner of pesto tortellini with spicy chicken meatballs. A week and a half into our supplies, our lighter had died, our chocolate turned mushy and our graham crackers stale, so we decided to forgo s’mores till we had a chance to visit the general store. We went to sleep at our usual bedtime of 9 p.m. in order to wake up and explore the next morning.

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Tags: Food, One with nature, Sunsets, Views

Yet another city of angels

Written by Chaz on 2 October 2011

Lest we ever get a good, full night’s sleep, we rose on Saturday at 5:30. We had decided to take on Zion Canyon’s most challenging day hike, Angels Landing, before leaving. The 2.4-mile trail goes up dozens of switchbacks before climbing up a steep ridge to the summit, an enormous rock promontory in the middle of the canyon. The name, Angels Landing, came from a 1916 visitor who proclaimed that only an angel would ever be able to get to the summit. But the park manager of the time was undeterred, quickly building a path to the top.

Angels Landing

After making coffee, eating a light breakfast and striking camp, we checked out of the campground, moved the car to the visitor center and boarded the crowded first shuttle of the day at 6:45 to ride up into the canyon. We were on the trail by 7:15. The trail was steep right from the beginning, running parallel to the canyon for a bit before beginning to ascend the canyon’s western wall pretty dramatically.

After 21 short switchbacks through an area known as Walter’s Wiggle, we arrived at Scout Lookout, which the ranger had assured us was a perfectly respectable place to turn around. And while the view from Scout Lookout was nice, it was nothing compared to the view from the top of Angels Landing, which loomed ahead of us. I took a moment to look over the sheer drop at the edge of Scoot Lookout into the canyon below.

As we began to ascend further, it became obvious that the trail was going to get a lot more treacherous for the final portion.

But it wasn’t immediately obvious just how treacherous it was going to be.

Of course, we were more than prepared after our Half Dome experience, so we soldiered on, making it to the summit by about 9:00. The views were totally unlike any other perspective we had had on Zion Canyon. Because Angels Landing sticks right out into the middle of the canyon, you get breathtaking panoramic views in both directions. For sheer unexpected reward, I think Angels Landing may have been the best hike of our trip.

We headed back down the trail, which was like nothing compared to the nine-mile descent from Half Dome, and we had returned to Dorothy by about eleven. We drove east on the park road, winding through the hills up to a 1.1-mile tunnel, snacking on asiago cheese, tomato spread and crackers.

After driving through the tunnel, we stopped for one last taste of Zion, making the short hike out the Canyon Overlook Trail to a view back towards the canyon. Clearly visible is the winding highway up to the tunnel’s west entrance.

As we drove east out of the park, we kept passing amazing rock formations, like the Checkerboard Mesa.

Before long, we were out of the park’s splendor and back on the flat, open desert road, heading south to the Grand Canyon. Our short detour to Zion couldn’t have been more worth it.

Posted in Zion | 2 Responses »
Tags: Food, One with nature, Sightseeing, Temples, Views

Heading inland to Zion

Written by Chaz on 2 October 2011

Ambition became reality when we awoke at 3:30 a.m. to take quick showers and ready ourselves for the long drive east to Zion National Park. Everything was in the car and ready shortly afterward, and by 4:02, Dorothy was pulling away.

Los Angeles had one last chance to confuse us with its freeway system, but we were ready for it. By 5:30, we had maneuvered from the 405 to the 105 to the 605 to the 10 to the 15, making an essential stop for coffee along the highway. We watched the sun rise over the California desert.

Interstate 15 winds east from Barstow through the Mojave Desert to the Nevada border. And as we approached the Silver State, it became clear that the casinos and outlets started immediately across the border. In fact, the town of Primm, Nev. is right up against the border, positioned as a first temptation for gamblers coming from California or a last hope for those leaving Vegas.

Shortly afterward, around 8:30, we arrived in Vegas, where we stopped for gas, a bathroom stop and a good look at the casinos. It was my first time in the city, and my initial reaction was that it reminded me so much of Macau — which was ironic, since Emmy’s reaction to Macau was that it reminded her of Vegas.

Left: the Wynn casino in Las Vegas. Right: the Wynn casino in Macau.

Northeast of Vegas, I-15 cuts through the rural northwestern corner of Arizona and winds through the Virgin River Gorge, a dramatic rock formation created by the same river that made Zion.

We pulled off the highway in Washington City, Utah for a last supermarket stop and lunch at In-N-Out, which we had missed in California. From there, it was only a short drive into Zion, where we parked Dorothy at our campsite in Watchman Campground and walked back to the visitor center. To reduce congestion, you can’t drive into Zion Canyon, the heart of the park — you have to park and take one of the frequent shuttles. As a result, there aren’t any parking problems in the canyon, and the views are unspoiled by heavy automobile traffic.

Zion was given its name by Mormon farmers who discovered it and believed it to be close to paradise. I really liked the idea that the park was preserved because people saw it and said to themselves: wow, this place is close to God.

After checking in at the visitor center about our best course of action, we hopped on a shuttle and rode to the Weeping Rock stop to begin exploring. The beauty of the canyon was readily apparent.

We hiked from the shuttle stop up a steep trail toward something called Hidden Canyon. As we ascended, the views of the canyon became even more picturesque and panoramic.

The weather was visibly deteriorating, and when we got to Hidden Canyon (surprise — it was a hidden canyon), we quickly turned back around, not wanting to get stuck on the steep trail once it became wet and slippery. We took a short detour to Weeping Rock, and as it had begun to rain, the weeping was even greater than usual.

We walked back to the shuttle and rode up to the last stop, the Temple of Sinawava, where we took a soaked stroll up the paved Riverside Walk along the Virgin River. The canyon gets too narrow for the road to continue, and at the end of the path, it gets too narrow for the path to continue. But, we learned, many people rent special boots to wade through the Narrows, as the section of the river is known, starting above the canyon and hiking through the water back down. It sounded really cool, and it definitely made my next-visit list.

We had to wait a few minutes for a shuttle back to the campground, as the heavy rain had apparently caused a mudslide on a section of the road. Sure enough, we passed a park ranger directing traffic around the debris in the road. According to our shuttle driver, the rainstorm was “one for the record books,” and the subsequent mudslide was “unprecedented.” When we got back to our campsite, we took advantage of a momentary lull in the rain to set the tent up at a record pace, and fortunately, the rain mostly held off for the rest of the evening.

Our campsite at Zion was one of the nicest we stayed, with a beautiful view of the canyon. We settled in to enjoy some appetizers by the fire before dinner. Naturally, given our early wakeup, we were getting quite tired.

As the sun began to set, Emmy whipped up some apple chardonnay chicken sausage with mixed fresh vegetables.

After a round of s’mores, we were more than ready for bed.

Posted in Los Angeles, Travel, Zion | No Responses »
Tags: Apocalyptic weather, Cooking, Food, Long drives, One with nature, Sightseeing, Views

Driving the Pacific Coast Highway

Written by Emmy on 30 September 2011

We had barely left San Francisco before the scenery underwent a rather dramatic transformation.

Just a few miles south of bustling San Fran, Highway 1 turns into a cliff-hugging roller coaster ride, with hills to the left and water to the right. Better known as the Pacific Coast Highway, the route runs all the way down the coast and the appeal of the journey is the drive itself. Our plan was to hit the highway and just get going. We had a couple destinations in mind, but otherwise planned to admire the scenery and stop impulsively when a whim struck.

Our first planned stop was in the tiny town of Pescadero. Several of my trusty food-recommending sources had given a shout out to Duarte’s Tavern and so we had to check it out for ourselves. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but we know not to judge a restaurant by its exterior.

We sat down and looked over the menu, which was dominated by artichokes and crab. We weren’t too far north of Castroville, Calif. — the artichoke capital of the world — and as for the crab, well, the ocean was obviously not too far either. We decided to sample the steamed artichoke hearts served with an aioli and the crab melt. The waitress commended us for ordering precisely what she would have recommended. We were quite pleased with ourselves.

Neither of us was bowled over by the artichokes while we were eating them, but in later reflection, we determined that we had really enjoyed them for their artful simplicity. The crab melt was fantastic — like a lighter version of a tuna melt. With no extra frills, save for a pickle on the side, the freshness of the crab was really what made the sandwich.

In reading about Duarte’s, we had seen mention in several places about the pie. We had ordered light so that we would have room to try a piece and after examining the lengthy list of flavor options, decided to ask our trusty waitress for her recommendation. She said we had to order the ollaliberry. When we both looked at her somewhat quizzically, she launched into an explanation. The ollaliberry is a varietal of blackberry found only in particular locations, the northern California coast being one of them. The berry is smaller and redder than the blackberries I know and love, almost like a cross between the fat black berries and raspberries. Our waitress split our pie slice into two in the kitchen, which was probably a smart move because we would have had a hard time sharing the delicious dessert.

What was so great about the pie was — you guessed it — its simplicity. Just like the other dishes we ordered at Duarte’s, there was no extra flair. Just berries sitting between a flaky crust, no extra sweetener or goo. The couple at the table next to us noticed our blossoming love affair with the pie and unprompted, offered to take a photo of the two of us with our slices. How could we say no to that?

From Duarte’s we continued south on Highway 1. (There wasn’t much else to see in Pescadero.) Just south of the small town we came upon Pigeon Point Lighthouse and having been thwarted in our attempt to visit a lighthouse the day before, decided that we needed to stop for a quick photo-op.

South of the lighthouse, the road was largely rural and we passed farm after farm. One had a giant sign proclaiming “fresh ollaliberries” and so we had to stop. We sampled a few of the farm’s products before purchasing a jar of ollaliberry jam for each of our moms.

The whole time we had been driving the road and the ocean were shrouded in fog. But by the time we hit Santa Cruz and its oceanfront boardwalk, the fog had lifted and the sun was shining. We parked Dorothy for a few minutes and ran to put our feet in the ocean.

We stopped next in Monterey where we tried to find another recommended roadside eat, but found our destination closed. We continued along the Monterey Peninsula until we reached the exclusive and elusive Pebble Beach. The legendary golf resort boasts 17 miles of coastal driving aptly named “17-Mile Drive.” Pebble Beach charges cars to drive the 17-mile loop and we had heard that it was an absolute must-do, so we paid the toll and motored Dorothy along.

Maybe it was the fog covering much of the ocean or maybe it was knowing that we had driven over 100 miles along the coast already (for free), but we were underwhelmed by 17-Mile Drive. We exited the loop in the historic village of Carmel-By-The-Sea and headed back to Highway 1.

If we had thought the earlier part of the day was along a desolate highway, then our whole perspective was about to change. As we approached Big Sur, the cliff we were driving along grew steeper. To our left, the hill stretched high into the sky and to our right, one wrong turn and we would have been fully in the ocean. We saw fewer and fewer signs of civilization, only rocks reaching out into the distant fog.

We crossed over several majestic bridges, a few of which had been turned into one-lane roads because of the erosion. The roads were so narrow to begin with; it was easy to see how a few fallen rocks could displace the vehicles. Below is Bixby Bridge, one of the more well-known along the coastal route through Big Sur. Big Sur is the name of an actual town on the coast, found at the beginning of the long scenic stretch, but the whole region has come to identified by its moniker.

We continued south down the coast, largely in awe of our surroundings. Despite having lived my whole life in close distance of the ocean, the east coast landscape is absolutely nothing like the splendor along the PCH.

After a while, we finally arrived at our destination for the night, Kirk Creek Campground. Perched atop the cliffs just off of the main road, the whole campground overlooked the ocean and with one of the highest campsites, we had a perfect view for sunset. Chaz deserves all the credit for finding this unbelievable location. We set up our tent, shaking off the mud left from the apocalyptic rains of Yosemite, and laid out a picnic spread to enjoy while overlooking the ocean.

We dug into turkey burgers (cooked, once again, in an impromptu stove-top fashion) with avocado and mango-papaya salsa, followed by s’mores, before drifting off to sleep to the calming sound of the ocean waves.

Posted in Pacific Coast Highway | 1 Response »
Tags: Beaches, Fog, Food, One with nature, Photo overload, Small towns, Sunsets, Views

Our brief bay stopover

Written by Chaz on 29 September 2011

Heading down the Marin peninsula to San Francisco, we made detours to two sites of great natural beauty, the Muir Woods and the Marin Headlands. The Muir Woods, one of the last untouched redwood groves near San Francisco, were named in honor of John Muir’s contributions in the creation of the national park system. We took a quick walk through the forest, admiring the trees’ majestic beauty.

We then drove down to the very tip of the peninsula to the Marin Headlands, stopping several times to take in the views across the bay. I think this was my third or fourth visit to the headlands, but they’re just as breathtaking as the first time.

Unfortunately, due to extensive construction at the headlands, we were thwarted both from taking the scenic coastal drive as well as from walking down to Point Bonita Lighthouse. We did take a nice walk toward the lighthouse, though, and had a light second lunch of the leftovers from our vineyard picnic earlier in the day as we watched seals play in the mouth of the Pacific Ocean.

We drove south over the Golden Gate Bridge through central San Francisco and picked up Gabi at her apartment in Potrero Hill for a quick jaunt over to Emeryville, where we picked up some furniture at IKEA that Gabi wasn’t able to fit into her own car, which is much more reasonably sized than our Dorothy. I was pleased that we were able to put our minivan to a legitimately productive use.

After dropping off the furniture at Gabi’s, we hopped the BART back under the bay to Oakland to meet some friends from Brown for dinner at Red Sea, an Ethiopian restaurant. I first got into Ethiopian food with my friend Ellen at Abyssinia in Stockholm, and Red Sea didn’t disappoint. We started with meat and vegetable sambusas, delicious little hot pockets with unidentified but delicious spices, and a hummus platter. We moved onto to the house combo, a whole smörgåsbord of meats and vegetables served over injera, the traditional spongy Ethiopian flatbread used instead of silverware.

We then migrated across the street to the Kingfish, a fantastic dive bar that inspired our friend Ellen (not the same Ellen as above) to dedicate her column in the East Bay Express to it. After leaving, Emmy and I parted ways as I headed back under the bay to Gabi’s apartment but she stayed at our friend Margaret’s apartment in Oakland.

We met again at eight the next morning and headed to breakfast with Gabi at Just For You, a great little place that Gabi and I had visited a couple years ago. Emmy and I both had the Greg’s scramble: eggs, spinach, parmesan, onions and chicken-apple sausage, and we split a beignet, the fried New Orleans treat that Just For You somehow also specializes in.

After dropping Gabi off and bidding farewell, we pointed Dorothy south toward Highway 1 and Los Angeles. We made a quick stop at Trader Joe’s to restock and were shortly on our way.

Posted in San Francisco | 1 Response »
Tags: Chilling with the locals, Ethnic eats, Food, Friends, One with nature, Sightseeing, Views

The scenic consequences of progress

Written by Chaz on 28 September 2011

After our ordeal on Half Dome, we felt free to allow ourselves the luxury of sleeping in until a whopping 8:30 a.m on Saturday. Though I was skeptical of our (well, my) ability to pull off any physical activity that day, we nevertheless packed our bags for a hike in the park’s less-visted Hetch Hetchy section. After a relaxed breakfast at the campsite of cereal, fruit and coffee, we threw our things into Dorothy and set off for Hetch Hetchy, the route to which requires one to exit and reenter the park, passing through private land.

Hetch Hetchy Valley is like a smaller twin to Yosemite Valley, nearly as dramatic if not on the same scale. But the steadfast march toward progress led the city of San Francisco to campaign for a dam in Hetch Hetchy to provide the city with water and power in the early 1900s. Over John Muir’s strenuous objections, the project was green-lighted, and so the first thing we saw as we descended on the winding road into the valley was the huge O’Shaughnessy Dam, which still provides water to San Francisco. The dam has since become a rallying cry for the preservation of national parks, and it’s extremely unlikely that another project like it could ever be approved. Though some people call for the restoration of Hetch Hetchy, it’s far more likely that we’ll just have to imagine what Hetch Hetchy Valley would look like were it not flooded.

We hiked a couple miles along the northern share of the manmade lake to Wapama Falls, where we stopped for lunch, our leftover tortellini. Each time we stopped and started again, my legs cried out in protest.

After we hiked back to Dorothy and bid farewell to Hetch Hetchy, we took a short driving tour up the Tioga Road, which leads to the eastern part of Yosemite. Though we had dinner reservations that prevented us from going all the way to Tuolomne Meadows, we made it as far as Tenaya Lake, stopping at Olmsted Point for a beautiful view. Though we had enjoyed blue skies all morning, storm clouds were rolling in and we got hit by heavy rain and even some violent hail as we retreated west.

We drove back to the valley through the very visible scars of a huge forest fire, beautiful in its own eerie way.

As we headed towards dinner, we took off our outdoor trekking hats and got ready for something more refined.

Posted in Yosemite | 2 Responses »
Tags: Apocalyptic weather, Historical memory, One with nature, Sightseeing, Views

Absurdity Checkpoint

Finish your liquids and take out your laptops