If you're ever down in Nephi, Utah, take a right and drive west for like, 100 miles give or take. Sounds crazy, right? A few weekends ago, Ryan and I did just that. Drove the "Loneliest Highway in America" for three hours straight. To most people, it's the most boring thing they'll ever experience. To Ryan and I, it was a pure treat.
On the infamous US Highway 50, we passed six cars over our entire trip. Definitely lived up to its name. But the surrounding geography was stunning. I got to tell Ryan about basin and range topography, everything I know about the desert and steppe climates, geologic forms, and everything else he asked about (I love that curious guy! [: ). We listened to This American Life podcasts, talks from General Conference, and a few Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me's. We tried to get Don Carlos (our car) up to 100mph. (It was a struggle.) We were on our way to Great Basin National Park, and as we drove through the beautiful, wide open heartland of the American West, we were two very, very happy campers.
I love land. I don't care what it looks like. If it's big and wide and natural, I love it. Give me a desert, with its scattered sage, hard crusty ground, and seeming emptiness - I see big sky, which makes my heart happy; I see cryptobiotic crust on the ground, which takes decades to form and is the desert's protection against erosion; I see a thriving ecosystem, full of life if you're patient enough and know what to look for; And I see that beautiful sage, and know that when it rains or if you roll a sprig between your fingers, it releases the most heavenly smell I know of. (Aside from horses. And cinnamon rolls.)
We raced these foreboding thunderclouds all the way to the park, and they caught us about an hour from Baker. Soon it got dark enough to be evening, even though it was only 2 o'clock, and we were given a show of brilliant lightning bolts, connecting the earth and the sky, and then rain so heavy that we had to shout to hear each other in our little car. It was one of those times where you look around and go, "This is
so cool." The roads flooded, lightning continued to light up the sky, and onward we went. {Maybe that was stupid, but we're obviously still alive...}
As we pulled into the park, the rain lightened and the rainbows came out. We grabbed a map {yesss. [:} and headed deeper into the park, climbing up and up into the mountains, passing peak after rocky peak and gaping at the stunning forest that materialized as we gained elevation. As we left the flat, brown desert behind and climbed into greenery, I got to explain orographic precipitation to Ryan, which our surroundings were a perfect example of. Earth is so awesome.
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| Excuse the overload of teal... I didn't realize! |
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| The light from the sunset reflected off the clouds and falling rain in the most brilliant color. |
We set up our tent in what we deemed as the perfect campground, with a stream running along the far side and a beautiful grove of ponderosa and fir. Chicken and fried potatoes for dinner, pancakes for breakfast the next morning. Again, happy campers. [: I like camping with this dude.
With a heavy week of school ahead of us, we unfortunately had to pack up and leave the next afternoon. But we vowed to come back to what we called "the hipster national park" {Seriously. No one knows about this place.} Cause like, that place has
bristlecone pines and some awesome caves. So yes, you bet this girl's gonna get her butt back there. Even if she's got to drag her husband all the way back down Highways 50. Which from the looks of things, won't have to be the case. Cause he's awesome and outdoorsy and such.
Until we meet again, Great Basin.
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| Wheeler Peak, which we will hike next time. |
