Best Road Sign of 2013

The winner of this year's best road sign goes to...

On Gros Ventre Road near the Grand Tetons

Staat Stats 2013

To summarize our 2013 adventure, here are a few Staat Stats:

Miles travelled:  9,538 

Miles travelled on gravel roads (including 4-wheel drive trails):  495 (mas or menos)

Days on the road:  49

States visited:  13

Lowest recorded temperature inside the camper:  34 degrees (the result of an empty propane tank... burrrrrrrr!)

Lowest recorded temperature outside the camper:  17 degrees

Greatest snowfall:  8 inches

Consecutive days of rain:  10 (it would have been 14 days, but we had 36 hours of beautiful weather in Quinault)

Nights in motels:  8 (including 5 days during family visits)

Cheapest gasoline per gallon:  $2.929 per gallon (Española, NM)

Most expensive gasoline:  $3.799 per gallon (Challis, ID)

Number of gallons of gasoline used:  674 gallons

Number of National Parks missed due to shutdown:  Glacier Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, Bryce, Zion, Capitol Reef, Canyonlands, Arches, and Mesa Verde

Beautiful places that we would have missed had it not been for the shutdown:  Davis Mountain wild horses (UT), Highway 105 through Uinta Mountains (UT), Fremont Indian State Park (UT), Posey Lake and Hell's Backbone Road (UT), Highway 46 and 90/145 (UT/CO)

The Last Leg

David and I first visited Heron Lake in 1975.  Pristine and beautiful, we remember watching an enormous sailboat cruise past our campsite.  Although drought and Albuquerque's water needs have drastically reduced this lake, it is still lovely.

Heron Lake, New Mexico

We camped at Heron, enjoying a relatively mild evening, strolling for elusive geodes and watching the sunset.  With storm clouds brewing, however, we headed into the camper as rain began to fall.  Thunderstorms kept the rig rocking most of the night, but morning brought sunshine and a herd of five buck, a doe, and fawn near our campsite.

Newfound friends from the Rocky Mountain Outdoor Writers & Photographers group (rmowp.org) live in Taos and invited us for brunch Tuesday morning.  We had planned to shower here at Heron Lake, however, we discovered that the park had already closed the showers for the winter.  Again, we are on a quest to find a place to clean up.

On our drive from Heron Lake into Taos, we had extra time to dilly-dally.  We took Rox on a hike along the rim of the Rio Grande Gorge, knowing that the next several days would be hard driving.  The wind blew fiercely and had a bite to it... proof positive that we were in for a cold night.

Rio Grande Gorge near Taos, New Mexico

Taos caters to a different style of folks than those of us who camp primitively.  We ended up in a commercial campground so that we could shower before meeting our friends.  Early in the morning, our propane tank ran dry.  We decided to wait until daylight to change it out.  As a result, we awoke to a bone-chilling temperature of 34 degrees inside the camper.

We had a wonderful time visiting our friends, then headed east to Texas.  By Tucumcari, we decided to cash it in for the night.  We found no campgrounds less than $40 and ended up staying in a $48 Motel 6.

The three of us slept restlessly.  At 3:30 a.m. mountain time, David was whispering, "Are you awake?"

We found our morning coffee fix in Amarillo.  We made it home before five o'clock.

It felt like a sudden end to the trip, but home felt warm, wonderful, and palatial.  We noticed that both of us were humming, "Ain't it good to be back home again."

We will sleep in our own bed tonight.  Roxanne is already in her favorite position, belly up against the front door.  All is well.

Colorado Snow

Another beautiful day... another beautiful drive on another new road over Utah's Highway 46 and Colorado's 90 and 145.

As we left Moab, the sun began breaking through the clouds.  We noticed that all of the surrounding mountains had a new dusting of snow.  The further we drove, the more snow we found.  By the time we arrived in Ridgway, the snow was deep, and the roads a bit icy.

One of our favorite drives in this area is up Last Dollar Road.  It has several beautiful aspen groves, and I was on the hunt for gold.  As we turned to determine the road conditions, we spied a lone coyote on a snowy hill.

Last Dollar Road was slushy but passable.  We decided to camp at Ridgway State Park for the night and take photos tomorrow.  I love Colorado but hate the prices of their state campgrounds.  Visitors must pay a camping fee of $20, the daily pass of $7, plus pay for showers.  It seems particularly odd that prices would be so high with so much national forest land available to camp on for free.  This evening, however, the sunset alone was worth the price of admission.

Sunset Ridgway State Park, Colorado

We broke camp the next morning, excited to find color.  My beautiful Colorado Rockies didn't disappoint.

Dallas Divide, Ridgway, Colorado

With the snow so deep, however, we found some of our favorite drives impassable.  We took a drive up to the Dallas Creek trailhead, only to turn back because of snow.  Roxanne, however, loved it!!!

We found Owl Creek Pass also to be snowy, slushy, and icy.  The view, however, was as remarkable as always...

The next day, we headed for Silverton.  We had hoped to drive the four-wheel-drive trail to one of our favorite spots, an old ghost town above Silverton.  Unfortunately, we found the snow too deep to even attempt.  We drove on towards Durango, stopping amidst new snow flurries to take a few photos at Molas Pass.

Molas Pass

With more snow in the forecast and honking geese urging us ever onward, we continue to move south.  We feel caught between two worlds.  It seems too early to go home, yet the morning chill and mountains dressed in wedding white whisper otherwise.   We have bouts of restlessness, sometimes feeling like the old John Denver song... that we should have been home yesterday.

By the time we hit Durango, the sun was shining.  The die had already been cast, however.  We are heading home.

“All things on earth point home in old October; 
sailors to sea, travellers to walls and fences, 
hunters to field and hollow and the long voice of the hounds, 
the lover to the love he has forsaken.”
~ Thomas Wolfe, 
Of Time and the River: A Legend of Man's Hunger in His Youth

Telluride on Dwellable

Moab Reunion

Outside Moab, Utah

When we learned that our niece, Kate (see www.hikingtogetkidsoutside.org), was back in Moab after her Pacific Crest Trail adventure ended so dramatically (see post http://ruffingitx3.blogspot.com/2013/09/drama-and-heroism-on-pacific-crest-trail.html), we just had to touch her to make certain that she was okay.  Not only was Kate in town, but Roberta, her mother, had flown in for an artistic paint out (see http://www.staatworks.com) at the same time.  It was wonderful to see both.

As we shared lunch together, Kate spoke about her amazing adventure and how she felt about it ending so abruptly.  Both David and I had to smile when she announced that she was considering hiking the entire Pacific Crest Trail again rather than just completing Washington.  Once adventure gets into your blood, it is certainly hard to shake.  Go Kate!!!  We can't wait to see what happens next.

The rain managed to follow us... as Kate, who has also had sufficient rain for at least a few weeks, said, "this is the desert!!!"

With the rain and both Arches and Canyonland national parks closed, it became a cleanup day for us.  We found the "Barkery" and gave Roxanne a much-needed bath.  With the rain and wanting a place for the family to gather, we also found a motel room.  Thankfully, it had a laundromat, so we were able to wash enough cold weather clothing to get us home.

Our need for a family fix satiated, we awoke this morning with our sights set for Colorado's Million Dollar Highway.

Hell's Backbone

On the Edge

The next state park with showers was Escalante State Park.  To our chagrin, it, too, was full.

As we turned around to leave, we discovered the Escalante Rock Shop not far from the entrance to the park.  We decided to pick up some specimens for a rockhound friend's birthday.  Wow!  What a great place to shop (see www.escalanterockshop.com)!  Owner Scott Nelson was such a help to us non-rockhounders.  As we chatted, we also discovered that Scott not only knew all about various rock specimens and rockhounding, but also knew about the area well.  He gave us directions to Posey State Park and Hell's Backbone Road.

It was a warm day, so we were undaunted in our quest for showers.  We figured that we would just pull out our little Zodi and have a hot shower by the lake.  We drove up, up, and UP, cresting at over 8,800 feet on the Colorado Plateau.  During that 16 mile drive, the desert melted away, and we found ourselves deep among Ponderosa pines and scrambling for sweatshirts.

Posey Lake, near Escalante, Utah

Posey State Park and lake were lovely but terribly cold.  We walked Roxanne and tried to sit outside for a few moments, using the truck as a windbreaker.  It was all to no avail... the biting wind drove us inside the camper.  Hopes for a shower were completely dashed.  The ambient temperature was chilling, and we opted for scrubbing down with some wet wipes again rather than bare all in less than 40 degree temperatures!

The following morning, we decided to drive Hell's Backbone Road (Forest Road 153) to Boulder (Utah), not knowing exactly why they might have named it thus or what the scenery might be like.  It was an extraordinary drive.  The scenery was exquisite, and the sheer ruggedness of Death Hollow was positively impossible to capture with the camera.  (Of course, however, I had to try!)

The road was named Hell's Backbone because of a bridge constructed by the CCC in 1933.  The bridge spans a narrow, winding backbone of rock connecting a chasm over Death Hollow.  This one lane bridge was originally made of wood.  The newest version, built in 2005, is considered wider more stout, however, it certainly brought out my bridge phobia.  I can't imagine what it must have taken to build this thing!

From Boulder, we traveled through a portion of Capitol Reef National Monument.  While the national parks were all still closed, this portion had to remain open because it ran along a state highway.  We found more amazing but inaccessible geology and even some pictographs (evidently state owned).

Once we passed through the Capital Reef area, the terrain changed dramatically to an almost moon-like landscape.  In some areas, there simply was no vegetation... or any signs of life at all.

Our next campground on the shower list was Goblin Valley State Park.  Known for its "goblin-like" sandstone formations, we were looking forward to a hike.  The park, however, is very remote and off grid.  With water supplies short and the park full, the park rangers would not allow anyone in just to shower.  Definitely this park required a return visit.

Disappointed but determined, we continued driving and finally found a state campground with openings AND showers in Green River.  This was a huge compromise for us because the campground was so close to railroad tracks and civilization.  (It bordered a golf course.)  However, desperation had set in... we planned to meet family tomorrow in Moab.  Sacrifices had to be made.  Regardless of the train waking us up several times that night, it felt great to be clean again!!!

Blanding on Dwellable

Fremont Indian State Park

Leaving my wild horses was sad but we had to move on.  We drove the gravel backroads, over portions of the Pony Express Trail and Five Mile Pass roads to Delta and then on to Sevier, Utah.  With dusk rapidly gaining on us, David discovered Utah's Fremont Indian State Park was directly on our route.  It was the perfect place to stop for the night.  To our surprise, Castle Rock Campground was surrounded with wonderful geological formations and golden cottonwoods.  The evening was warm and pleasant, perfect for sitting by the fire.  We reminisced about our amazing experiences in the Davis Mountains.

The next morning, we drove to the visitor's center to learn more about the area and to get an update on which roads were open (since the national parks remained closed).  We watched a movie about the area's history and people, then took a nature trail to see some of the Fremont Indian pictographs.

Our goal for the day was to find showers.  The park ranger gave us a guide to all the Utah state parks.  Three parks with showers were directly on our route.  Unfortunately, all three were full with folks out looking at the changing colors.

We traveled through Red Canyon and past the entrances to Zion and Bryce National Parks.  Every campground, pit toilet, and many of the parking areas with interpretive signs were all closed.  The geography was amazing... just completely inaccessible.  Heavy sigh.

Red Canyon, Utah

Our Extravagant God

We awoke to a frosty morning.  A quick look outside, and we saw the older bachelor band still grazing below us.  With binoculars, David found that the main herd had returned from behind the mesa, however, they were still a hike off the main road.  This would be our last morning in the Davis Mountains.  I only hoped that we could capture at least a few more shots of the herd before we turned south.

I had named the older stallion band "the boys."  They seemed seasoned enough not to bolt at the sound of dirt bikes or ATVs, however, whenever they interacted with the main herd, they were instigators.  They were also totally unimpressed with me and would just as soon turn their behinds to my camera rather than smile and pose... typical incorrigible bad boys.

I managed to take a few shots with them after we broke camp and headed to the main road.  But the light was wrong, and they were most uncooperative.

David and I decided to try to see how far off the road the main herd had moved.  They appeared to have drifted quite substantially over the past hour while we broke camp.  To our utter amazement, we discovered that they were heading to their watering hole, which was only 30-40 yards off the main road.

I choked with emotion.  David and I agreed... this was nothing short of God's generosity. He didn't have to do this... what a beautiful parting gift.

For the next three hours, David and I watched the Davis Mountain herd of wild horses at their watering hole.  We saw two young colts sparing.  The bay colt was relentless in chasing the young black.  The bay chomped the black's tail as they circled and romped.  They were, obviously, practicing to be big boys.  While I shot stills, David took some amazing (albeit fuzzy videos... we have got to get him a better camcorder rather than our little  Powershot!!!).  I must admit that after watching the bay colt harangue the black for so long, it was very satisfying to see the black give the bay his due!

As we watched the colts, "the boys"... the older stallion band... meandered in to join us.  Immediately, the dynamics changed throughout the herd.  All of the stallions began to gather together, each wary of the other.  Our white stallion seemed to be the greatest challenger of them all.

The stallions seemed to have pre-fight rituals.  They would arch their necks, press foreheads together, and paw the ground... sort of like a Samuari wrestler's stomping ceremony.  Here's a video that David took of their interactions.  It was obvious that our young colts were practicing for future encounters.

Over those three hours, we watched the horses interact with one another.  Some of their behavior was easy to understand.  Others, no.  For some unknown reason, one of the stallions was being shunned by the entire herd.  Every time that he tried to re-enter the family circle, one or more of the other horses would drive him back out. 

Shunned

We watched horses taking dust baths, drinking, playing, mating, and jousting.

The stallion fights were the most amazing... and there were plenty of them.

As this amazing wild horse herd began to move and graze beyond the watering hole, we felt as if we were among the most privileged on the planet.  I had only hoped for a few more shots of the herd.  God in His infinite generosity gave us this wonderful gift.  I only pray that He is pleased that you, too, are able to share this experience with us.  As we left, we couldn't help but sing, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow.  Praise Him all creatures here below.  Praise Him above ye heavenly host.  Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."

"This most generous God who gives seed to the farmer that becomes bread for your meals is more than extravagant with you.  He gives you something you can give away, which grows into full-formed lives, robust in God, wealthy in every way, so that you can be generous in every way, producing with us great praise to God...."  2 Corinthians 9:10-14

Noise, Noise, Noise

Davis Mountains, Utah

After yesterday's shoot with the brumbies, we could hardly wait for another opportunity.  Unfortunately, we discovered that Utah's ATV heaven was particularly active on Sundays.

We found the herd, but as we approached, two dirt bike riders raced ahead.  The noise from their engines terrified the horses.  We were almost in position to take photos... instead, we could only watch them flee.  Only the band of older stallions continued their grazing.

We followed the road nearest their path, turned off the truck and waited.  The frightened horses had gone behind a mesa in a cloud of dust.  After about a half hour, we saw a few of the lead horses slowly making their way back.  Just as they began to appear, however, the dirt bikes returned.  The horses fled again, this time completely out of sight.

With the horses so distraught, we knew that they needed time to settle.  We decided to try to find another wild horse herd in the area called the Cedar Mountain herd.  We traveled north of Dugway.  We overshot the turnoff, gave up, and turned back.  When we did, we discovered that the northbound signpost had fallen over.  Now on the right track, we followed part of the old Hasting's Cutoff on the California trail.  The road was deeply rutted.  At one point, we found an enormous dip.  The truck handled it without a hitch... just another Sunday drive for the Staat family.  :)

The Cedar Mountain herd proved to be elusive.  We found a few stud piles, but no horses.  With evening approaching, we decided to return to last night's camping spot.

Just as the sun was setting, with binoculars we could see a number of horses from the main herd inching their way back around the distant mesa.  Our vista felt so empty this evening... what a difference a day makes!  Only the ragtag band of older stallions grazed in the valley below us.

Among the Brumbies

Davis Mountains, Utah

We were well stocked with everything except for propane.  The nights have been really cold as of late.  During last night's snow storm, our little furnace worked as the temperatures dropped into the low 20s.  We knew the desert well enough to understand that temperatures drop like a rock at night.  Reluctantly, we drove the thirty miles back to Tooele to fill our two propane half tanks.  It was a good thing that we did... we knew one was empty but had no idea how close to empty the second one was.

We returned to the Davis Mountains a bit after five o'clock and pulled off onto an area that had been well-used for camping.  In fact, there were so many roads criss-crossing the site that it felt like we were on a motorcross trail.  We weren't far from wrong.  We awoke the next morning to the sound of an ATV.  Unbeknownst to us, we had camped in the middle of an ATV dirt-track... and Utah appears to be ATV heaven.  We couldn't believe how many rigs had pulled in around us overnight just to use the site.  We quickly broke camp.  Our one goal for the day was to find the brumbies (Austrailian for wild horses).

We discovered the herd nearly a half mile off the road.  We parked, and I slipped out to see what my long lens could pick up.  They were too far to make good shots, so David and I began walking towards them. This is something that I love to do.  My grandfather was a rancher.  He could walk among a herd of cattle without so much as disturbing even the most skittish of animals.  He taught me to do the same, and I feel as if he is walking with me when I am out among the horses.

Wild horses normally stay in small bands numbering between 8-15.  We guessed that because of the time of year, the bands had gathered into a large herd numbering well over 100.  The main herd was composed of stallions, mares, yearlings, and foals.  Along the periphery of the main herd, there were two smaller groups of stallions.  One band was led by a white stallion and his close companion, a black with a blaze on his forehead.  The white stallion appeared to be older.  The second bachelor stallion band seemed to have younger stallions, perhaps three year olds and up.

The older stallion band was closest to me, so I began inching up on them.  The white stallion curled his upper lip up at me.  This is a gesture that a horse will use to get a better smell.  I stopped and began clicking away.  When his compainion laid down, I knew that the band had accepted me and felt no threat.

The entire herd grazed further and further from the road, so David and I decided to see what other treasures the area might hold.  We drove up the Pony Express trail and found a small herd of antelope.  We had to laugh when we discovered a large "campground closed due to government shutdown" sign on the only campground in the area.  Some poor park ranger had driven over 30 miles up a dirt road to plaster this sign.  Evidently nobody was too worried about fines for trespassing.  Two groups had their camps set up within the grounds.

Later in the afternoon, we found the brumbies near a rutted but passable road.  We had spoken earlier to a local photographer who assured us that the herd was very approachable as long as they weren't spooked.  We found him in the middle the main herd, shooting away, so I chose to photograph the younger stallion band.

Because the sun was in front of me, I worked my way among the horses towards the mountain.  I hoped to be able to maneuver enough to have the sun at my back.

I finally got into better lighting only to hear a horse very close behind me.  He was passing an enormous amount of gas.  I suddenly realized that I was no more than fifteen feet from a stud pile, a large pile of horse manure.  Stallions will often best one another by pooping on a stud pile.  Sometimes these stud piles grow to several feet high.

The stallion closest to me was grunting and posturing at a painted stallion near him.  Thankfully, the paint backed off.

The dark stallion pooped on the pile and ambled off to graze.  I backtracked a safe distance before the painted stallion came forward, sniffed, and added his contribution to the pile.

The horses were so close now that I could hardly photograph them with the big lens.  One of the colts came up to me.  I was wary and very respectful, however, since his mother was just behind him and would occasionally drop her ears back when she looked at me... never a good sign.

I had just finished photographing the colt when two stallions stood face-to-face, just ten feet or so in front of me.  They arched their necks and pressed them against one another.  The stallions began to blow and snort in a manner that I had never heard before.  Their ears laid back as the grunting continued, and I knew that I was in trouble.  These stallions were about to fight, and I was close enough to simply be part of the landscape.

Moments before the ruckus

I stepped backwards, almost directly into the flank of another young stallion.  This stud was obviously more interested in the ensuing ruckus than in me.  When I realized that, my situation felt even more precarious.  In my photographic trance, I had no idea that I had managed to maneuver myself directly into the center of the younger stallion band.  Five stallions, the colt, his mother, and  I were at full attention as we watched, waiting to see what the two disgruntled stallions would do.  Thankfully, their posturing ended quickly and peacefully.  After a quick "Thank You, Papa!!!" prayer, I began to sidestep out of the circle, my heart pounding from the experience.

Below me, the larger part of the herd began to trot.  I didn't know if the other photographer had spooked them or if the herd was just ready to leave.  All appeared well, however, as my young stallion band began grazing further and further away from me.

The shoot was over.  I strolled back to the truck, feeling radiant.  David spied me, smiling also.  I knew that I hadn't taken any great photographs and, perhaps, I had even taken my grandfather's teachings to another level... maybe even to the point that I had been a bit reckless while trying to move among these wild stallions.  This was, however, the most exhilarating horse shoot ever.  Wow!!!

David and I set up camp under the shadow of the Davis Mountains.  Our vista was a remarkable desert mountain scene with an enormous herd of wild horses grazing in the meadow below us.  It just doesn't get any better than this!!!

Davis Mountains, Utah