The End... ?

There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.

― Frank Herbert

On Monday, Jobie and I spent a few hours at the Grand Canyon Visitor’s Center before climbing back into my van and pointing it westward for one last day of adventures.  As we were driving down Interstate 40, I saw a sign for something called the Grand Canyon Caverns.  I called back to Jobie who was sleeping in the back of the van and asked her if she wanted to make a quick detour to see some caves. 

Ads for a product that doesn't even exist anymore.
What a great marketing campaign!

She murmured something that I took as a “Yes,” so I turned onto Route 66 and we were off to explore.   Route 66 was not as exciting as Chuck Berry made it sound, but it was a little more interesting than Interstate 40.  There were a series of Burma Shave ads along the way that helped break up the monotonous desert landscape.  After about 30 miles, we pulled into the Grand Canyon Caverns, which appeared to be straight out of 1950.  A large sign in varying shades of faded yellow announced, “CAVERNS INN” with letters that were in somewhat of a caveman-style font.  Behind the sign was a single-story angular building that was painted in tans and burnt orange colors and had several dusty old cars lined up in front.  As we pulled into the parking lot, another smaller, hand-painted sign indicated that the cave entrance was past a 3-hole mini-golf course that had several large dinosaurs in it.  We drove down the gravely road about a mile and eventually came to another old kitschy building with yet another large dinosaur statue in front of it (for some reason we saw a lot of dinosaur statues across the desert—perhaps 20 of them).  We went in and a heavy-set old lady with crooked teeth sold us two tour tickets. Actually, she sold us two faded green poker chips that were used as our proof-of-payment for the tour.  At 12:30, a young kid said the tour was starting and he directed 9 of us into an elevator that led 21 stories down into the earth.  He spoke relatively fast throughout the tour and gave us a little history of it, telling us how it was the deepest cave, that it was one of the largest in the area, that it was designated as a bomb shelter, and about how dinosaur bones were found in it (again with the dinosaurs). 

One last stop at roadside Americana

Before the tour started, he emphasized that the Grand Canyon Caverns Cave Company also functioned as care-takers of the cave and he instructed everyone not to touch any the walls inside of the cave and to avoid damaging the natural features of it.  But once we were inside, he showed us the hotel room they had built inside the cave that came complete with a large screen TV, a king-sized bed, a toilet, and running water which could be rented for $800 per night, as well as the 70-seat music theater that they had constructed inside of it.  In addition, he frequently mentioned how he and other employees would come down at their leisure and crawl through the tunnels and into the various passageways for fun.  It seemed that Grand Canyon Cave was much more a commercial venture than a true protect-the-natural-resource venture. 

After our 45-minute tour of the cave, we continued on down Route 66 until it met up with Interstate 40 again and we headed to Joshua Tree.  We spent the night at the Joshua Tree Lake RV Park and on Tuesday morning we set out to explore Joshua Tree National Park.

Must be close to L.A.

Joshua Tree National Park has a bizarre landscape.  It is filled with mountains of large boulders that look more like piles of rubble than anything that was formed naturally.  The Joshua Trees that are prevalent through the park have tall, light brown hairy trunks that sprout out a small number of thick twisty branches that are also covered with a hairy bark and which erupt into a tuft of green spikes at the tips.  The ground is covered with a gravely sand and lots of small cacti and tumbleweed-looking plants.  We saw a wide variety of rocks strewn around the ground: some that looked like pink quartz, some that looked black and lava-esque, some that were deep red and angular, and some that were round and dark gray and looked more like river stones.  And the whole area was baking in heat that was close to 100° by 10:00 in the morning.  We spent a couple hours exploring a small trail that led to the ruins of an old ranch that was built on the property in 1876.  It was the home to settlers who started using the area for gold mining, and then later as a cattle ranch.  As we looked around at the arid land that was covered in cactus and dry scrub it was hard to imagine cattle grazing in the area or people living in such an unforgiving environment. 

Joshua Tree National Park looked like something
out of a Dr. Seuss book

I suppose, though, that it is a testament to the adaptability of humans and the way that life finds its way into surprising places.  We finished our hike, went back to the van and quickly turned on the air conditioner, and made the last bit of the journey home to Arroyo Grande.

We arrived home late Tuesday afternoon.  I had spent a total of 79 days on the road and drove nearly 13,000 miles—that’s over half way around the Earth.   I got to see a variety of landscapes, talk to people of diverse backgrounds, visit old friends, have new experiences, adventure in some of this country’s natural wonders, and gained a broader perspective of just how varied life is even in a place that at first seemed so familiar.   I’ve flown across this country countless times and I guess that has shrunk its boundaries and made it seem small and trivial in my mind.  But by traveling across it slowly and by taking the time to explore both the grand and granular interesting spots, I’ve realized that it holds far more than was ever contained in the confines of my imagination.

One thing the desert does have is spectacular sunsets

So now my journey is over. Or at least, the part of the journey in my van is over.  In Travels with Charley, John Steinbeck said “We do not take a trip; a trip takes us.”  And now that I have taken my trip, I know that that is indeed true.  When I first set out on this venture, I planned that I would have some distinct endpoint—a date at which I’d return, sell my van, and go back to my previous life.  People kept asking, “When will you come back?” and that seemed such an unambiguous question.  On one day I set out on the road, and on another day I’d return and those two days would be like the bookends in defining the length of the trip.  But even now, only a few days after I’ve come home, I know that the lingering influence of this trip will continue:  the impressions of the things I saw and the thoughts I had along the way have become like little Post-Its in my mind to remind me that even when things seem ordinary or mundane, or when I find myself falling into a comfortable routine, there is always an adventure to be had or a story to be told if I just approach life with a little bit of a sense of wonder.

A Grand Adventure

NOTE:  This entry was written on Sunday, July 21 but I didn't have good internet access to post it.

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To get the full value of joy you must have someone to divide it with.

― Mark Twain

I still have a few more days left on my journey, but my days of being a solo adventurer have come to an end:  Jobie flew out to Arizona to join me on the last few days of my trek. 

That's a big hole in the ground!

After surviving Arches National Park with both of my arms still in tact, I drove to Meteor Crater in Winslow, Arizona.  I spent the morning checking out a large hole that was left in the ground when a meteor impacted with the Earth about 50,000 years ago.  It was really quite interesting.  The crater itself is immense: about ¾ mile across and 570 feet deep.  I tried taking some pictures of it but the feeble lens on my camera could not capture its immense size.  There was a small platform that extended over the edge of the crater, and it had telescopes on it that allowed guests to get a close up look at the distant features of it.   In addition to the crater, there was a small museum where they detail the story of how it was determined that the hole was indeed caused by a meteor as opposed to a volcano (hint: in 1960 a guy named Eugene Shoemaker found similarities between minerals found in meteor crater and those found in craters created by nuclear explosions, and he realized that volcanoes could not produce the heat and pressure required to make those minerals).  It also had a lot of displays about other objects found in space, a movie that told what likely happened when the meteor hit Earth, and information about other craters around the world.   I spent about an hour and a half at the museum before heading to the Phoenix airport to pick Jobie up.

For some reason, Jobie preferred the Omni over the KOA

I arrived at the airport about 45 minutes early and found a parking spot large enough for my van.  Fortunately there was a Starbucks inside the terminal, so I earned myself a couple more points on my Starbucks card and enjoyed the air conditioning inside the building while I waited (outside it had hit 115°).  Jobie made her way off the plane and we headed to nearby Scottsdale.  I didn’t want to immediately shock her with life in a van, so we spent the first night in Arizona at the Omni Scottsdale Resort and Spa.  We pulled up to the valet stand at the resort.  It was quite comical driving up in my dust-covered, bug-splattered oversized van.  I pulled in behind a shiny Mercedes convertible and a young guy in a valet uniform came and opened the door for me.  He did his best to remain professional and asked if we were checking in.  I told him yes, handed him the keys, and asked him to be sure not to park it next to next to any of those crappy cars. 

Meteor Crater really didn't seem that big after seeing this

On Saturday we hung around Scottsdale and checked out Taliesin West, which was Frank Lloyd Wright’s residence for several years.  I really wasn’t that impressed with it.  I mean, the architecture was interesting and all, but when the tour guide told the group that Frank Lloyd Wright considered the appropriate height of a person to be 5’8” and that people over 6’ tall were a “waste of space and materials,” I just figured that Wright was a worthless, bitter little man.   So perhaps my opinion was a little bit biased. 

After the day in Scottsdale, we made our way towards the Grand Canyon.  We spent the night at a KOA just outside of the park, as the campground inside the park was full for Saturday night.  On Sunday, we hiked the South Kaibab Trail to a point 3 miles into the canyon.  The first half of the trip was easy—it was all down hill.  We got some incredible views.  The canyon really is one of the great wonders of the country.  Everyone knows about it even if they’ve never visited it, but it really cannot be truly appreciated from just knowledge of its existence.  It starts near the rim with unbelievably sheer cliffs.  The walls of the cliffs are deep red, striped with tan and orange where the different layers of sedimentary rock come together.  At the bottom of the cliffs, the canyon flattens out briefly into expansive flat meadows of low shrubs and green plants and small flowers.  The meadows then drop off again into a steep, narrow gorge that extends down to the turbid Colorado River.  The canyon is a symphony of colors and textures and life and each angle offers a unique viewpoint. It’s impossible to take in everything at one time.  At various points during our hike, we’d both pause to take in everything that was in front of us, and we both saw things that the other didn’t even though we’d be looking in the same direction.  Beyond just the views, the canyon is impressive in its age.  As we descended down into its depths, I kept considering that as we got lower and lower, the rocks got older and older.  At times I feel old with my mere 44 years, but being among those cliffs and valleys that were carved millions of years ago made me feel silly in thinking myself aged.  

Those cliffs seem a lot higher when you
know you have to climb back up them.

The hike down into the canyon was not bad at all--it went pretty quickly being as it was all downhill.  Jobie was even jogging almost the whole way down.  When we got to Skeleton Point, which was the suggested endpoint for a day hike, we turned around and looked back up at the cliffs we had come down.  Somehow, they seemed much larger when looking back up.  And we weren't even all the way down at the bottom which made the scale of the Grand Canyon even more impressive.  We were perhaps only 15% of the way across, and not even half of the way down.  But, again, we didn't want to have to chew off any arms so we made our way back up the trail.  On the way up, we passed a couple who were making their way down.  The man was perhaps in his fifties and the sweat stains on his shirt and forehead gave away his level of exhaustion.  "How much farther is it?" he asked me as he wiped at his brow.

"It's not far," I told him.  "We started at the other rim about an hour ago so you're pretty close. Keep it up!" I told him.  He stared at me blankly for a minute.

"He's not serious!" Jobie blurted out, ruining my fun.  

"No, seriously, you're only about 10 minutes away from Skeleton Point," I told him.  He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.  "After that, you get to go back up hill!" I encouraged him.

He laughed, but seemed a bit relieved that he didn't have much farther to go, and then the two of them  continued on their way down as Jobie and I made our way back up.

Almost back up to the top!

But the best part of the trip to the Grand Canyon was having someone to share it with.  There is a lot of joy in going on solitary adventures:  you can go at your own pace, you can go in whatever direction you want, you can spend as much or as little time at each different point along the way as you like.  But the joy of the adventure gets augmented when you have someone else along. You can “ooooh” and “aaah” at the different vistas and point them out, talk about them, and share the experience.  Plus, you have someone else to point out the things that they see, which you might have missed. 

At the end of our hike, we headed back to the campground.  We were able to get a campsite in the park for Sunday night.  It wasn’t quite the Omni Resort, but it worked out just fine.  It wasn’t until after dinner that I came across the only drawback of having to share this journey with someone else:  there was now competition for all that chocolate that I had stashed away in my little refrigerator.  But in the grand scheme of things, I suppose that even chocolate is a joy that is better when shared.

These were the rules posted on the Grad Canyon shuttle bus.
I almost violated #4.

Getting Lost

NOTE:  This post was written on Thursday, June 18th but I didn't have good access to internet at that point.

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When you've managed to stumble directly into the heart of the unknown - either through the misdirection of others, or better yet, through your own creative ineptitude - there is no one there to hold your hand or tell you what to do. In those bad lost moments, in the times when are advised not to panic, we own the unknown, and the world belongs to us. The child within has full reign. Few of us are ever so free

― Tim Cahill, Jaguars Ripped My Flesh

I got lost today and had a few moments of panic.  It was fantastic!  It was in Arches National Park in Moab, Utah. 

These towering rocks keep watch over the
road into Arches National Park

Let me step back a bit first and say that Moab was perhaps one of my favorite stops on this trip.  To get there, you leave the comfort of the well-worn Interstate 70 and turn onto US 191 which is a small, two-lane highway that feels like it is taking you into the heart of nowhere.  It stretches desolate and lonely away from the traffic of the Interstate and will lead you to question if you really are on the right road.  At least that’s the effect it had on me as I drove south away from the steady flow of cars.  As you approach Moab, the sides of the highway begin to rise up in tall, crimson cliffs that are carved into bizarre towers that seem to watch you warily as you advance on the small town through the dry heat (it was 105° when I arrived).  The entrance gate to Arches National Park is at the foot of the guardian cliffs, and the road twists back and forth sharply up to the top.  Being so close to them, it’s difficult to get a good glimpse of their impressive height and stature, but once you get to the top you are treated to a fantastic view of the valley below.  The road through the park then takes you past even more towers of red stone that have been twisted and carved into dramatic formations over millions of years.   As I passed through the park, I wished that my van had a convertible top so that I could get a better view of the unique structures.  I found myself continuously leaning forward onto the dash, wrenching my head upward to catch glimpses of the full height of the towers around me.   I was on my way to hike through an area called Devil’s Garden at the end of the park, and amazingly I made it the full 16 miles through the park without running off the road while gawking at the scenery.

It was at this point that I realized I had lost the trail

The hike through Devil’s Garden was listed as being a bit over 7 miles and strenuous, and I was looking forward to getting a workout from it.  I thought that I’d get an early start on the trail to avoid the heat and some of the crowds, but when I arrived at 7:45am it appeared that lots of other people had the same idea.  The parking lot at the trailhead was bustling with cars and people rubbing on sunblock and putting on hats and hiking boots.   I quickly got my water pack on my back, put on my own sunblock and bug repellant, and made my way to the start of the trail.  The first half-mile or so was really not at all strenuous. It consisted of a wide, flat gravely path that meandered alongside some tall red cliffs.  There were all kinds of people on the trail: families with young children, couples holding hands, a boy scout troop, and even several people who appeared well into their seventies or more.  As I made my way through the crowds, I heard all kinds of different languages being spoken; German, Italian, Spanish, and Mandarin were the ones I recognized, but there were several others that were unfamiliar.  It was great to see so many different people enjoying the park, but I secretly wished that they would have been there a little later in the day.   Not too far from the start of the trail, the first arch was visible. It was called Landscape Arch. Nestled up against the side of a hill, it was a thin, delicate arc of red stone that stretched a couple of hundred feet between two more formidable rocks.  It was difficult to get a good picture of it as so many people were standing at the bit of trail in front of it, gawking and snapping pictures.  With a little patience I managed to get a few clear pictures of it before heading further down the trail.

After 30 minutes of wandering in the desert,
this was a very welcome sight!

A short ways past Landscape Arch, I saw a sign that said “Primitive Trail” and which warned hikers that it was a difficult, poorly marked trail.  No one was heading down that path, so I decided that was the route I was going to take.  It started with a scramble up a thin ledge of stone.  Getting to the top required a little bit of hands-and-feet, but it wasn’t too bad at all.  Once I reached the top, I turned around and took in the view of the stone I had just climbed up, the sandy, crowded path at the bottom of it.  “There will be no whining children or old ladies on this trail to slow me down!” I thought to myself.  I brushed my hands off, twisted back around and took a moment to figure out where I was going.  The land in front of me was covered with red dirt, speckled with small shrubs, and mottled with rocks of all sizes.  In the distance, I could see tall, vertical spines of stone sticking up from the ground.  There was no discernible path, so I chose a direction that had the fewest amount of trees in the way and walked through the desert.  As I got further along, I realized that I was no longer on any sort of trail at all, but the scenery was incredible!  I was alone among all the interesting rock formations, plants, and critters that scurried along in the dirt.  I climbed up a few of the smaller formations and got a good glimpse of my surroundings. The only footprints in the dirt leading up to the rocks were mine, and I couldn’t detect any other hint of a trail.  It was exciting—I was creating my own trail through the park! 

This is what people come to Arches National Park to see

Eventually I came to several tall rock structures that I couldn’t get around and I had to backtrack a bit.  I walked back, past my footprints until I found another semi-clear line of dirt through the shrubs and rocks.  I walked along, enjoying the silence and the feeling of having the park to myself.  There were several more of the vertical rock spines, and I climbed up one of them.  On the other side, it dropped off sharply and went down a gravely cliff.  It was at this point that I began to get a little nervous.  While it was indeed nice to have a “trail” to myself, I had a few brief images of headlines mentioning a lonely lost hiker in the desert who foolishly went off the established path and ended up lost or stuck and being forced to chew his arm off in order to get free of some fallen boulder.  I wondered if I should go down the gravely cliff or turn around and try to find my way back.  Suddenly, I heard some voices ahead of me down the cliff.  They actually were a bit welcoming even though I had wanted to get away from the crowds.  I decided to go on forward, thinking that maybe I was actually on the “primitive” trail.  I scrambled down the rocks and found myself in a narrow crevasse between two of the vertical blades of red rock.  A short ways ahead I caught sight of a couple cautiously working their way further into the stone valley.  I called out to them, “Hey! Is this the primitive trail?”

A woman in a red floppy hat turned around and looked up the path at me.  “I don’t think so.  I think we’re lost also,” she laughed. 

“Ok, great! So I’m not the only one!”  I felt a little bit re-assured. 

See how small that guy looks?

“We think the trail might be up ahead, though, just around this big rock.  We’re going to try to see if we can find it,” she yelled up to me, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

I looked further down the valley, and I didn’t think that it led to anywhere that I wanted to be.  I didn’t want to end up becoming a headline, so I decided not to follow them.  “Ok. Good luck!” I shouted back, and waved. 

I turned around and made my way back, and eventually found the main trail.  It did indeed get to be much more difficult than the flat, sandy path at the beginning, and the crowds on it had thinned to a small trickle of people.  I was happy to have the sense of adventure with the comfort of at least a few other people who were there with me as well.  At least I knew that if I got stuck, there’d be someone else there who could chew my arm off for me if needed so I wouldn’t have to do it myself. 

Living on the Edge

I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center.

--Kurt Vonnegut

Today I left Colorado and made a little journey to Moab, Utah.   I spent yesterday and this morning with Mike, who was my roommate after college, and his family. We had a fantastic time together.  Colorado has no shortage of breweries, and Mike and I visited nearly all the ones in Boulder for our lunch on Tuesday afternoon.  When we came back home, his wife Bridget and their twin 9-year old boys Ben and Luke (named after Ben Kenobi and Luke Skywalker) had just come home from summer school.  The boys were getting ready to play in a little-league hockey game that evening, so Mike and I got them warmed up with a game of dodge ball first.  We played little kids against big kids, and Ben and Luke took great pleasure in pelting us as hard as they could while we screamed in mock pain. 

Ice cream cones make great face paint

Afterwards, we went inside and the boys loaded up on carbs with some noodles and ice cream cones.  Since Bridget was not paying attention, I counseled Ben and Luke in the fine techniques of stuffing as many noodles in their mouth as possible and in using their ice cream cones as face paints.  They thought it was one of the best lunches they’d ever had, and I think I would have to agree with them.  When they finished lunch, we went to the hockey game.  Mike got the boys suited up and we watched them chase pucks around the rink for about an hour with 8 other little boys.  Their energy was incredible—I was impressed that they lasted so long.  After the game, we headed home and had a dinner of bbq tri-tip and a few hours of video games.  Later in the evening, Mike and I had a few puffs of legal Colorado entertainment (don’t worry, Mike—I won’t tell Bridget about your stash…well, unless she reads about it here!) and then stayed up until nearly 2:00am giggling at the movie Ted, which we both have seen at least a dozen times.  All in all, it was a pretty spectacular day. 

Pshaw!  Don't avoid the edge...get as close as you can!

But this morning it was time to leave.  I’d been in Colorado for a week and the road was calling me.  The next stop on my journey is Arches National Park in Moab, Utah which was about a 6 hour drive down Interstate 70.  I know that earlier in my blogs I said that Highway 128 through Navarro was probably my favorite highway, but after driving through Colorado on 70, I think I have a new favorite.  It was an absolutely gorgeous drive that took me winding through the mountains west of Denver, up over 11,000 feet through the Eisenhower tunnel, past the little villages of Vail, Avon, Eagle, and Glenwood Springs and through the White River National Forest.  Just past the uniquely named town of Parachute, I stopped at a rest stop that had a little visitor’s center.  Inside the center they sold chocolates (which I didn’t buy since I’ve had plenty the past several days!) and small gifts, and they also had little brochures of interesting places along I-70.  I came across one that gave some information on the Colorado National Monument located near the town of Grand Junction.  It looked interesting and I had a couple hours to spare, so I decided to add a little detour to my route. 

Whooooaaahh!
(No comments about the white socks, please)

I’m glad I made the trip.  The Colorado National Monument is a bit like a mini Grand Canyon.  It has some spectacularly sheer walls of deep red and golden sandstone and several spires and rock formations that jump up from the sides and middle of the canyon.  There is a narrow road that slithers its way 23 miles through the park, up the sides of the cliffs and around the rim of the canyon.  The brochure said that it takes about an hour to drive from one end to the other, but I made it last 3 hours by pulling off to the side of the road at almost every small turn-out available and soaking in the view.   One of the amazing things about it was that you could walk right to the edge of the canyon and stare straight down nearly 700 feet in some places.  I sat for a long while at the edge of one part and marveled at how far I could see.  It was a clear day and about 95° out with very little wind which made for a very serene setting.  Beyond the walls of the canyon I could view the far-off towns that sat miles away at the bottom of the valley.  When I first got out of my van and looked at the lip of the broad hole in front of me, I felt an immediate sense of vertigo.  After several minutes, though, I got accustomed to it and ventured closer to the precipice.  I sat down and edged myself to just inches away from the cliff and dangled my feet over the edge.  I could feel gravity tugging at the bottoms of my shoes.   Even though I wasn’t moving, my heart quickened a bit and I could feel a jolt of adrenaline.  It’s when you are just touching the skin of the edge that life becomes amplified and you feel incredibly alive.  It was almost as if time paused for a moment and I became incredibly aware of all the small details around me: the grit of the pebbly scarlet soil underneath my palms as I held myself in place, the heat from the sun pressing down on the back of my neck, an obsidian raven that glided through the center of the canyon without even flapping its wings, the subtle smell of the juniper shrubs that speckled the rocks, and the annoying buzz of little flies that wanted to bite my ears.  As I felt more comfortable with my position at the edge of the canyon, I got a little more daring and laid down, hanging my head over the side.  That vertigo rush returned and forced a nervous and excited laugh from my lungs.  I stared at the bottom and then flipped over and saw the depths of the blue sky above me.  It was a feeling that is hard to put in words.  When I got on the road this morning, I thought I’d be tired on the drive since I stayed up so late last night.  But clinging to the brief bits of stone that prevented gravity’s pull on my body had an effect beyond caffeine and fed energy into my veins.  

That was just a little bit scary....

I wanted to see more of the canyon and was slightly disappointed that I hadn’t discovered it earlier and left more time for exploring.  I carefully withdrew from my perch and went back to my van and continued my trip around the rim of the monument.  Each new spot I found provided a different perspective and landscape to enjoy.  The sun got lower in the sky and when it struck the walls and formations around me it created battles between light and dark on the rocks.  The late afternoon rays from the sun caused the deep red and sparkling tan sandstone to light up as if it had erupted, and the crags and crevices between the rocks grew deeper and deeper into an inky black.  Long shadows stretched across the bottom of the canyon like dark beards growing at the chins of the formations and I knew I needed to get moving if I wanted to make it to my campsite before dark.  I made one last stop at an area called Monument Valley at the west end of the park and snapped a few pictures of a lone stately spire that sprouted from the middle of the canyon as if in defiance of the other structures that clung close to the walls.  The road then made its way back down to the floor of the canyon, and soon I had returned to Interstate 70 and was headed to Moab.

My week of indulgences in Colorado was over.  I was going back to campsites where I’d walk outside to the showers and sleep in the back of my van.  While it was great to visit friends and summon old memories from the backs of our minds, I find a certain comfort in being back on the road.  That yellow line in the center of a narrow strip of gray has come to symbolize adventure and a sense of unexplainable freedom that is somehow seductive.  The road has the capability to take me to those places where I can be right on the edge, where I can find something new to experience, and where I can see all the things that are invisible from inside the walls of my home. 

Monument Valley at Colorado National Monument.
Wish I could have hung off the top of that one in the middle!