Category: Travel

“How much would I have to pay you to stay here for a night?”

“Oh- I’d do it for free…”

When the question was posed again 20 minutes later among a cacophny of insect sounds, led by an electronic alarm bug whose beeping contnued to accelerate to an impossible rate, I lost all interest in flexing my fearlessness in the face of abandoned buildings.

The day started with a leisurely morning of waterslides, blob launces, and zip lines at my waterpark hostel. By 2 PM a group of scooter riders had assembled to explore the Bokor National Park in Kampot, Cambodia. The ride climbed steadily through a proper tropical jungle that offered beautiful views of the Gulf of Thailand and the wide sky.

As we continued to climb, the temperature dropped to a pleasant coolness, and the clouds filled in, limiting our view to a gray clouded dome. The clouds continued to grow denser and descend toward us until we were riding through a tunnel of fog.

Then the rain began.

Relative to temperatures at home, it was still quite warm, but my body acclimatized quickly. I was shivering and eager to pull over at the first building I spotted, a massive 5-star hotel and casino buried in a national park.

Entering the hotel, we were greeted by the sound of plastic arcade machine gun fire. No more than 30 Chinese tourists lounged in the lobby, which I assumed was about half of the guests staying at this eerily empty luxury hotel. After coffee and snacks, the rain let up enough for us to begin riding again.

The group originally intended to catch a sunset at the peak of Bokor Mountain, but now we pushed on with the intention to visit an abandoned town that once served as a respite from the oppresive heat for French settlers.

The heavy fog continued to fill in further, cutting visibilty down to just over three scooter lengths. Thankfully our lead scooter was navigating the winding roads by gps, eventually bringing us to an abrupt stop by a staircase that seemingly led into the clouds.

The abandoned church wasn’t particularly creepy, hence my overconfident declaration that I’d spend the night if only I had a hammock and bug net. We wandered around a bit, making our way to the summit which no doubt offered incredible views on cloudless days. Instead we gazed into an endless gray wall that devoured the rocks we threw over the cliff to try to establish a sense of distance.

 

I’ve got a list of excuses as to why I haven’t written recently including:

1. I prefer not to write on my phone.
2. There is a shortage of libraries in Southeast Asia with public computers.
3. Since buying a motorbike in Vietnam, I haven’t had extended periods of downtime on bus trips to write.

Realistically, I just haven’t made blogging a priority. Today I located the local public library in Vientiane with the intention of writing this post, but they didn’t have public computers so they sent me to the Institut Français just down the road. The institute is a French language and cultural center with COMPUTERS, but they made it clear to me that these computers were for students only. So here I am writing from a local internet cafe that I’m sharing with a few guys around my age who are either sleeping or playing Fifa online.

---

I’m not exactly sure what my last update in Vietnam included, but on my final day in the country I purchased a Honda Wave scooter from a fellow American backpacer for $175. I departed from Ho Chi Minh City around midday and made my way to the border crossing. A bit of confusion at the border but overall the visa process was fairly simple.

As soon as I crossed into Cambodia, the environment turned into a scene straight out of Mad Max (or so I’ve been led to believe since I haven’t seen the films). Potholes larger than the stretches of rideable pavement kept me on edge as I darted in and out of the dense, free-for-all traffic attempting my best to avoid diesel exhaust and plumes of dust that nearly eliminated all visibility. Tremendous luxury hotels and casinos that seemed incompatible with the post-apocalyptic border town lined the streets and simply added to the comical chaos.

Eventually the traffic broke and the road conditions gradually improved as I found myself approaching Svay Rieng, a small town that served as my halfway point to Phnom Penh.

The following day I made my way to the capital of Cambodia, a city that I’ve heard virtually nothing good about. But as I drove through the congested city streets, I found that I enjoyed the blend of old, worn-out concrete buildings mixed with futuristic Chinese real estate development.

I contracted a bit of traveler’s tummy on my first full day in Phnom Penh and spent most of the day sweating it out in the hostel and feeling mildly uncomfortable. The following day I visited the Tuol Sleng Geonicide Museum (S-21), a former high school converted to a prison during the Cambodian geonicide in the 1970s. The site now serves as a museum that does an incredible job at explaining the rise of the Khmer Rouge under Pol Pot and the attoricities they committed, which is unsurprisingly an event I only had the faintest knowledge of prior to visiting Cambodia.

After finishing at the museum, I began my trip south to Kampot along the worst roads I’ve seen to date. I regret not taking photos of the crater sized potholes, walls of dust, and general savagery of this ride, but all of my attention was directed on surviving this drive. So maybe I’m being a bit hyperbolic, but when a 3 hour ride turns into a 5 hour ride you can’t blame my remembering brain for taking artistic license with some of the details. I eventually skidded into Arcadia Backpackers Hostel and Waterpark late in the afternoon and launched myself off the waterslide before showering and sleeping.

The following morning I enjoyed more of the waterpark offerings, including a blob, russian swing, and DIY zipline that had a tendency to leave riders with rope burn. Later in the day a group of us assembled to check out the Bokor National Park, an experience interesting enough to justify it’s own essay. Coming Soon…ish.

Two days was all I needed at the waterpark to get my fill. After a bit of breakfast, I headed north on the same hellish road I took into Kampot in search of the farm I’d be volunteering at for the next week while waiting for my Swiss friend, Belinda to arrive in Cambodia.

After doing a bit of extra driving and borrowing a gas station attendants phone to call my workaway host, my escort arrived by motorbike and guided me down country roads to the farm that would have been impossible to find without him.

My days were bookmarked with watering rows of cabbage transplants, beans, peanut seeds, and a mix of tropical fruits. The first few days of watering involved filling five gallon buckets in a hydroponic fish pond that was under construction, and walking anywhere from 100 to 20 meters to splash water onto plants. Two of us with two buckets each could finish the watering in about 5 trips, but as we added more rows of plants and lowered the water level in the pond we knew we couldn’t keep doing this. Thankfully a few sections of PVC was all it took to turn our pump into a functional hose.

Besides transplanting seedlings, my midday activities included raking leaves to cover the exposed soil, harvesting young trees and palm fronds to construct shade structures for the young plants, and most importantly taking breaks in hammocks to gorge myself on a seemlingly endless supply of delicious mangos that at points were literally falling into my lap.

Adjusting to life on the farm took some time considering I was transitioning from traveling for the past few weeks with a group of nine friends, but just as I was getting into a nice rythm on the farm, Belinda arrived in Kampot.

I wasn’t particularly sad to leave and join Belinda at the eco resort paradise she’d been staying at, but I knew I’d miss the unlimited fresh mangos. My first night at the resort was great. Delicious food and fun conversation. However, the following day I spent 90% of my time sleeping, 5% running to the bathroom, and the remaining 5% feeling weak. So while I didn’t get to fully enjoy the resort, I was grateful to being soaking up the restorative energy here as opposed to being on my deathbed at the waterpark party hostel.

The next day I was not fully recovered, but I felt good enough to make the trip to Otres Village with Belinda. We rode through mud and rain, but my previous trip framed this one as a fun and filty trek. It helped to have someone to share the ride with.

Otres was a peculiar town. The highlights included piles of garbage along the streets, knee deep puddles that covered the length and width of the streets, and a sex toy vending machine. The only reason we stayed here was to serve as a launch point for our trip to Koh Rong Sanloem.

The boat ride to Koh Rong Sanloem began at a disorganized ferry pier where ships blasted electronic music, including a Jingle Bells remix that I couldn’t resist dancing to as I laughed at the dreamlike reality of Christmas edm music in May on the other side of the planet. Just over an hour after our scheduled departure time, Belinda and I boarded a double-decker ferry that shuttled us to a tropical, white sand island. Upon arriving we set out on a 35 minute hike through the jungle to reach the sunset side of the island where we spent the next two days relaxing, sweating, and swimming.

I can only spend so much time laying around on the beach so I was happy to depart after two days. From here we headed north to Battambang with a stopover in Phnom Penh.

Battambang is a small city that seemed to be working hard to turn itself into a backpacker destination in the next few years. One of the city’s major attractions is a handful of art galleries ranging from traditional watercolors to humantarian global photography. My favorite was the contemporary art gallery, Romcheik 5 artspace, a workshop turned gallery that is shared by four artists who were exiled from Thailand as children and forced to work before an NGO intervened.

In addition to touring galleries, a group from the hostel I stayed at took a ride on the bamboo train through the countryside of Battambang. The “train” was a belt driven bamboo platform that needed to be disassembled each time we encountered an oncoming train. Initially I wasn’t keen to see the train, but in hindsight I enjoyed the handmade and resourceful feeling of the ride. After the train, we visited the bat cave, an attraction for tourists and locals where each night around 5:30 a wall of thousands of bats stream in and out of their cliffside home to feed for the night.

Three days in Battambang was more than enough time to take in the sights and still have a few hours to laze around before departing for Siem Reap, home to the temples of Angkor.

The city of Siem Reap is a well developed tourist hub with endless food and shopping options to fill your time when you’re not wandering through temples that predate the 12th century. While it’s not my first choice at home, I made my way to a Starbucks for the third time in two months to get a glass of cold brew, something I’ve been unable to find anywhere else during my trip.

The most frequently recommended one day itinerary for touring the temple complex begins with a 4:30-5 AM arrival to catch the sunrise over Angkor Wat. I needed to catch up on some sleep before comfortably waking up this early, so I spent a day or two walking along the central canal in town, exploring the market and museum, and visiting the L’artisan Angkor.

L’artisan Angkor is an educational art center and social enterprise for Cambodian children from rural areas where they are taught traditional wood and stone carving, fabric weaving, jewlery making, and a variety of other skills. I toured the facility, watching young adults chisel away at blocks of wood and soapstone to create small Buddaha statues and other souvenirs that seemed to be available in an endless supply around the country. In addition to mass produced keepsakes, there were a few high end commision items on display and an exhibition on some of the temple restoration work that the craftsmen were carrying out in the temple complex. And of course the tour ended in a high end gift shop.

On the morning of our temple visit, Belinda and I left the hostel on my motorbike since her headlight was too dim to drive safely in the predawn darkness. After picking up our $37 entry tickets from a secondary location, we made our way to the most well known temple, Angkor Wat, with a crowd of other tourists. The sunrise itself was not breathtaking, but the wisdom of getting an early start was a great way to beat the hot midday temperatures. After several hours of wandering through temple corridors and climbing stone steps, we headed back to the hostel for a nap before returning that evening to visit one last temple in the final minutes before closing.

At this point my one month visa was approaching its end date so I needed to make my way out of Cambodia and into Laos. The trip to Laos was too long to do in a single day, so I stayed in the town of Preah Vihear and made a day trip to the Temple of Preah Vihear, located on the Cambodia-Thailand border at the top of a massive cliff. The ride up was so steep that at points I had to get off my scooter and push. While the temple was not as undiscovered as descriptions led me to believe, I was the only white faced tourist around. As a result I was asked to pose for my first and second celebrity white person photos. One with a Chinese girl and another with a young Buddhist monk.

After another night in the town of Preah Vihear, I began my ride north to Laos. My first destination was the 4,000 Islands.

It’s pouring rain in Saigon as I write this post from The Library University of Science Ho Chi Minh City. I haven’t walked around beyond the open air public computer section, but it seems like a fairly standard public library.

I got in this morning at 6am and spent some time walking the streets around my hostel before the Ho Chi Minh City Musesum of Fine Arts opened. Shortly after finishing at the museum, a sudden downpour forced me to take shelter in the Ben Thahn Market until a slight break in the rain allowed me to make the three block dash to the library. Since I haven’t even been here for a full day, I’ll follow up with a more complete post.

For now I need to play some catch up since I’m a few weeks behind on my travel log.

“Stay in Tam Coc, not Ninh Binh,” was the phrase repeated endlessly in the north by travelers coming from the south of Vietnam. Upon arriving at the resort-like hostel, which included a swimming pool, outdoor pool table, and beautiful dorms, I fully understood why this distinction was so heavily emphasized.

The town of Tam Coc felt like a vactaion town for Vietnamese families. A bike-friendly main street filled with small shops, a variety of resturants, and other boardwalk style attractions ran through the center of town.

On the first day, my travel crew  and I rented bikes and pedaled to Lying Dragon Mountain, by far the most touristy place I’d been to date. Women in fancy dresses posed for their instagram husbands until they got the perfect shot to share online. Needless to say most of these people weren’t making the 450 step climb to the mountain top in the humid tropical weather.

The next two days we rented scooters. On the first day we rode over to Trang An for a boat ride through terrain that reminded me of the limestone pillars at Halong Bay.

The rowboats passed through long, narrow tunnels with low hanging stalactites that had to be dodged as we paddled downstream to small temples tucked away in the limestone faces along the river.

After sweating it out in a rowboat, I drove a friend into the city of Ninh Binh to pick up some headphones. The city itself was unexceptional, which reaffirmed the wisdom of staying in Tam Coc that so many people shared with me. The ride back was a race against the rain that we lost. Thankfully there was an oversized poncho stashed in the scooter that kept me dry as I served as a windshield for my passenger.

Unfortunately the next day we were not so lucky. None of our scooters came with ponchos, and what seemed like a light drizzle when standing around was enough to thouroughly soak all our clothing on the ride the Bai Dinh Pagoda, the largest temple complex in Vietnam.

In normal conditions, I think the pagoda would have been quite impressive, but waterlogged shoes and overcast weather seem to have a way of diminishing my memory of the experience.

---

This essay is interupted to notify you that a group of young boys is playing minecraft on either side of me. They keep side eyeing my monitor, trying to give me the not-so-subtle hint to wrap it up so their friend can take over my computer.

---

 A night bus dropped us off at our hostel in Phòng Nha just before 4 am. Thankfully there was a room filled with bean bags that we were able to sleep in until the dorm was ready.

6 hours later I found myself on a 22 km bike tour through the city on a +90 F day.

Despite being spoiled by access to incredible rivers to float on in Montana, I couldn’t have been more grateful to take a break from biking for a leisurely float on such a hot day.

The next day we rented motorbikes to ride into Phòng Nha National Park. The nearly empty roads cut through the densest, greenest jungle vegetation I’ve ever seen.

Apparently caves like this aren’t uncommon in SE Asia, but since it was my first one, I found the vaulted ceilings and speleothems (cave formations from secondary mineral deposits, think stalagmites and stalactites and everything in between) quite impressive. And yes, I had to look up the word speleothems to remember it. Traveling in Vietnam regularly makes me wish I had paid better attention in my geology courses.

We ended the day with a meal at a vegan restaurant that was so good I returned the next day for lunch before catching my bus to Hue.

The Ha Giang Loop was appropriately described to me as the last place I should visit in northern Vietnam because it would outshine everything that came after it. 

I joined an international motorcycle gang to share the experience of riding the curving roads that carved up and down the steep limestone slopes.

The place itself was nothing like the Pacific Coast Highway, but my experience of every two minutes thinking “now THIS is the best view” only to change my mind after driving around the next turn was identical.

In addition to the natural beauty, there was a built beauty along the loop. People plowing fields of corn buried in the rocky slopes. Constructing cities in seemingly inaccessible valleys. Damming rivers and collecting water in the dry highlands.

The first stretch of the loop from Ha Giang to Yen Minh was the least memorable only because the following days were so impressive.

———-

On the second day we stopped at what I presume was a war memorial, but the sickle-wielding children who greeted us were far more interesting. They ran up to our bikes asking for food by pointing at there mouths. I reached into my bike to share some sour cherries, but before I even had them in my hand a child snatched them and ran off.

Most of the kids I encountered on the loop greeted travelers with waves and smiles. These were the only children who aggressively circled my friend when he pulled out his wallet to give them the equivalent of a few cents.

Part of the second day itinerary was a trip to China. Clearly marked on the map as “illegal border crossing”, this tourist attraction came with a verbal warning to not wander too far or risk stepping on an undetonated bomb. Here’s the homestay where we slept and drank too much rice wine on our second night. Thankfully rice wine seems to have some magical property that saved us all from hangovers and allowed us to get an early start on day 3.

I have no clue if this photo is actually from the third day, but it’s the photo that best captures my experience from that day. Racing down winding mountain roads, trying to outrun a rainstorm that never actually came.

Along the way we saw more than the normal amount of live animals being ferried down into Du Gia. Chickens hanging from hooks. Dogs in bamboo cages. The pig above started squealing and flopping so hard that it almost knocked the driver off his bike. Needless to say everyone in the group selected the vegetarian option for dinner that night.

A symphony of horns woke me up at 5am on the following day. Apparently all the animals were being transported to Du Gia for the weekly Saturday market. This was my first opportunity to drive in properly chaotic Vietnamese traffic.

We escaped the busy town in favor of a secluded waterfall before starting our trip back to Ha Giang where we boarded a night bus to Tam Coc.

Day 4-6

After three nights in Hanoi I was ready for a change of pace. I was deciding between a trek in Sa Pa or something along the coast near Halong Bay. A conversation with a traveler outside a cafe the previous day bumped me in the direction of a place called Woodstock Beach Camp on Cat Ba Island.

I think the name does quite a good job of capturing the spirit of the camp. Much like my impression of the original Woodstock in 1969 my experience of getting there was half the adventure.

I took an 8am minibus that departed for Hai Phòng with the intention of catching a ferry to the island. My plan was to track down an internet cafe and see where the ferry departed from, but upon arriving to the city there were no “Free WiFi” signs in sight.

Luckily I had been dropped off directly in front of the library. After an extended conversation with a librarian, I located the ferry station and started walking.

Along the way I stopped for a meal at a food stand. My order of Chao Long seemed to shock the server but she brought it out anyway. It was a few days until I found out I ordered pork intestine porridge.

I managed to sleep through most of the ferry ride. Upon arriving at Cat Ba Island, I set out for a 10 km walk to camp….2 hours later I was there. I convinced myself that it wouldn’t be much different than backpacking, if anything easier because it’d be along a paved trail. But I’d never hiked in tropical conditions, and the motorbikes racing by caused second, third, and fourth thoughts but I had made up my mind so I kept walking.

A good night’s sleep in a bamboo shed with floorboards that moved when people walked was all that I needed to recover from my walk and set out for a scooter ride through the Cat Ba National Park with a group from Woodstock. The first stop was a cell phone access ladder that led to an overlook of Halong Bay.

In the afternoon, we explored Trung Trang Cave and then enjoyed an extended ride back to camp.

The next day I went on a boat tour of Halong Bay. I was expecting this place to be quite touristy based on descriptions I read, but I think I must have been there in the off season. The trip included kayaking, swimming, and climbing through tidally eroded tunnels. I got to flex my geology muscle and share what I remembered about limestone forming from the shells of ancient marine life being cemented together as shallow seas evaporated.

My last day on Cat Ba was spent preparing for a night bus to Ha Giang.

Day 1-3

Arriving in Hanoi left me feeling a bit overwhelmed. Between the scooter flooded streets and the constant horn beeps that kept me up at night, I was wishing that I had at least started my trip with a friend. Since that wasn’t the case, I spent my first two days walking around the city to acclimate myself.

The street markets in the Old Quarter were incredible. It felt like the in person equivalent of searching for something on Amazon and being overwhelmed by results.

“Oh, you want sandals? Here are 2,000 options that match your search.”

There was a section dedicated to colorful party supplies and one for Nike and North Fake knockoffs and another for metal work where workers fabricated structures in the middle of the street with welding torches and grinding wheels sending sparks into the air.

The first night I attached myself to a chef from the Czech Republic who had been traveling by motorbike for several months. A cross between Henry Rollins and Anthony Bourdain, he was driven to avoid the tourist attractions while seeking to eat, drink, and listen to punk rock like the locals.

We found a hole in the wall with communal dining and sat across from a woman who told us we found the best place for pho in the city. She also recommended a place with food that rivaled it but her directions were rather vague – to the right of the Catholic Church…the restaurant has no sign or name.

I managed to track down the church and the restaurant the following day before exploring Tay Ho, an area around West Lake that came highly recommended.

After stopping for a coffee, I began making my way back to my hostel. Along the way I stopped at the Tran Quoc Pagoda, my first of what I assume will be many temples during my trip.

An electronic arcade rendition of Beethoven’s fifth fades in and out as I write this from the Incheon Airport in Seoul. The transport trolleys play this sound rather than the irritating warning beeps that I became so familiar with at the Hartford airport while I waited for my delayed plane.

After the second delay, my odds of making my connecting flight in Detroit evaporated. Rather than finding a new flight out of Hartford, the airline booked me a cab to JFK that cost $100 less than my flight to Hanoi.

The Incheon Airport is quite impressive. Classical music played lightly as the plane descended over the Yellow Sea that reflected the sun in that pale aesthetic often used to characterize movies set in the near future- something like Her or Blade Runner. The airport itself felt like a quiet biosphere, massive windows with automated shades and indoor gardens that rival some botanical gardens.

I’m about to board with my flight to Hanoi so I’ll continue my writing whenever I next have some in between time.

_________

Some photos of what I packed.

I’ve since added a day pack and an extra pair of shorts to my wardrobe. Sandals are next on my shopping list, but I’ve struggled to find anything in my size.

_____________________

You probably didn’t think I would come through with this travelogue the same way you didn’t think I was in the 95th percentile of ice skaters. Hopefully this essay inspires you to never doubt me again. And if this doesn’t do it, just wait for the TED Talk. It’s coming soon. 

Day 1: Helena > Boiling River > West Yellowstone

I planned on driving straight to Salt Lake City on my first day, but Maddy and Val encouraged me to make a detour to the Boiling River, which I’m immensely grateful for. I was there on a weekday so I didn’t have to share the water with more than a handful of people. No photos because my phone died.

I planned on staying at a Forest Service Campground along my route to Salt Lake City, but I didn’t account for the fact that they were all covered in +2ft of snow. I ended up sleeping in a turnout just outside of West Yellowstone. Lack of planning proved to be a recurring theme in my sleeping accommodations. 

Day 2: Salt Lake City > Forest Service Campground

I woke up in the dark to a -15°F morning. Did you know memory foam freezes? So do rubber soles and the leather on my boots…Thankfully my sleeping bag, jacket, and all my blankets kept me warm enough to make getting out of bed comically uncomfortable instead of frostbittenly painful. 

I got to Salt Lake City midday and found a tea house to drink matcha in until I came up with a plan.

I walked to Temple Square to do the Mormon thing and ended up staying much longer than I planned. All of the buildings were staffed by 19-20-something-year-old women on mission who were eager to answer all my questions. I kept asking about the lack of art until I was directed to a mural one of the missionaries told me rivaled the Sistine Chapel.

I was hoping to stay with a friend in Salt Lake City, who was living there for a physical therapy clinical, but I didn’t reach out to her until the morning of, so I wasn’t all that surprised when she got back to me at 5pm saying this was the only night she couldn’t host me. Oh well, it’s not like my sleeping situation could get any worse than the previous night.

I drove two hours south to find a poorly plowed ranch access road that supposedly led to a Forest Service Campground. After a rough couple of miles, the plowed road was replaced by one buried in snow so I decided to turn around. In the final third of my three-point turn, my truck sank in. I was stuck…without a shovel, and the undercarriage of the truck bottomed out on snow. Luckily my 4-inch camp frying pan was readily accessible. After an hour of digging, spinning tires, laughing at myself, and occasional stargazing, I was FREE! I found a pull-off a few miles back down the road that I should have stopped at the first time I passed it and went to bed knowing tomorrow night I wouldn’t make the same mistake.

Day 3: Capitol Reef National Park > Forest Service Road

I woke up to the sound of tires crunching on snow, probably the rancher who owned the driveway I slept in. This morning’s wake up temperature was a comparatively sweaty 15°F. I had breakfast on the road, oatmeal + a splash of water that I thawed between my legs, and made it to Capitol Reef National Park before the ice in my Nalgene fully melted.

I had never heard of Capitol Reef before this trip, but it was only an hour detour on my way to Bryce Canyon so I felt obligated to stop. In hindsight, I wish I stayed here a second day because the hiking was spectacular, and I had the park to myself.

I hiked a trail that led to a hidden arch, supposedly the only one in a National Park you can walk on. I managed to see the arch, but I’m not sure if I actually made it on top. I found a sunny spot to nap at halfway through, and keeping with the motif of this trip, I got lost on my way down and gained a better appreciation for why this area was designated as a “reef”.

I left Capitol Reef in the late afternoon so I could get an early start in Bryce the next morning. I found a snow packed Forest Service Campground a few miles outside of Bryce Canyon and camped along the access road with no issues.

Day 4: Bryce Canyon > Flagstaff

I woke up to a 20°F morning, but by the time I got into Bryce Canyon the temperature dropped to 9°F. Most of the park roads were closed, and thick ice completely covered all the trails that steeply descended into the canyon. Even with crampons the hikes didn’t seem worth the struggle.

I was limited to a few overlook points and didn’t spend as much time in the park as I had planned because I could only manage to stand around in the windy, sub-freezing weather for so long. Despite this I didn’t feel like the limited park access detracted from my experience; seeing National Parks in the off-season offered a unique perspective that I would have overlooked if the park was filled with people.

Driving south, the temperature rose to a pleasant 50°F that felt even warmer with the sun shining brightly. The landscape leveled out just as I finished my podcast series, Alice Isn’t Dead, which feels like required listening on a road trip of any significant duration.

I try not to make recommendations frequently so that when I do they carry more weight. This surreal audio diary road trip podcast is something I have no hesitation about endorsing!

While the cold weather kept the smell down, by my fourth day without bathing I could feel the minerals and brain-eating microbes from the Boiling River caked on my body. Driving along Lake Powell, I was repeatedly tempted to go for a swim and rinse off but continued to talk myself out of washing off.

I stopped at a tea house in Flagstaff late in the day and intended to grab something to eat at the Whole Foods next door before getting back on the road and driving toward the Petrified Forest. After chatting with the owner and a server for a few hours, I decided to spend the evening in Flagstaff and visit Sedona the next day.

I scouted out a number of Forest Service Campgrounds on my phone from the comfort of a brewery. A load of highly reviewed campsites appeared to be conveniently located on the road to Sedona; however, I didn’t pay attention to the dates that the sites were reviewed and by the third locked gate, I assumed the remaining half dozen campgrounds were also closed for the winter season. I turned around and drove back to Flagstaff in the dark to find my Plan Z free campsite, a road at the base of a Naval Observatory hill that already hosted some RV and tent campers.

Day 5: Sedona > City Park in New Mexico

I was up well before the sunrise and drove an hour south to Sedona for an early morning hike. The first place I tried, the Amitabha Stupa and Peace Park, opened at 9am, so I drove on to the Devil’s Bridge Trailhead. Still with no hint of sunlight, I set out with my headlamp and wandered along a dry riverbed.

I made it to the arch just after sunrise and was unsurprisingly the only person on the trail. On my way back down I could tell that the trail was filling up, and by the time I got back to my car, the parking lot was full. I decided to check out the Peace Park before visiting downtown Sedona.

If you’ve ever been to the Garden of One Thousand Buddhas outside of Missoula, then I’d describe this shrine as its desert twin. Hundreds of Tibetan Prayer Flags hung from the bent and twisted trees. In various states of decay, the flags waved along the trails leading to and from the stupa. Nearby people tucked themselves into the shade of the low trees to meditate.

After both my hikes, I headed downtown to get a coffee and look around. If I had more money and time, the town would have been an ideal place to experience various forms of spiritual and physical healing. Massages. Yoga Retreats. Aura Readings. It felt like a boardwalk for all things new age. Since crystal shops and palm readings aren’t really my scene, I escaped the energy vortex of Sedona and enjoyed the scenic road that I missed on my predawn drive down to the city.

By mid afternoon it was +60°F. I wasn’t overly sweaty from hiking, but I could definitely smell myself. I noticed a river that flowed along the side of the road with loads of Forest Service Picnic Areas to park at. I lucked out and picked one that was empty. I undressed and splashed down in the river. After floating around for a few minutes, I got out and put my pants back on just as a German couple rolled in. They said “hi” and left immediately. I imagine they were more scared of me than I was of them.

I drove east and stopped two hours beyond Albuquerque. Tonight’s campground was the sketchiest one yet, a city park less than a mile from the highway with a hand painted “Free Overnight Parking” sign. Needless to say I was the only one parked there.

Day 6 & 7: St. Louis

Day 6 was nothing but driving. On the road just after 5am, I filled my day with phone calls and audiobooks. 13 hours later, I arrived in St. Louis and spent the night with my mom’s college roommate.

 

The next day my mom’s old roommate gave me a tour of St. Louis. We visited an animal sanctuary and St. Louis’ free zoo. So much walking, but it was a beautiful sunny day so I felt like I was undoing the damage from sitting in the car the previous day.  Later in the afternoon we went up the arch which felt like a monument to retrofuturism. Initially I was ready to skip this attraction, but I’m glad I stopped in. 

Day 8 & 9: Pennsylvania > Connecticut

Day 7 & 8 were both dedicated to driving.

Jury Duty Update

I was not selected. They didn’t even bring me in for an interview!