Several large schools of bait fish leap from the water as if trying to escape from something big, but we can’t see what’s chasing them. We spot a pod of porpoises, then a sea turtle, then more porpoises. The sun grows softer, and we continue scanning the water’s surface.
You can find yourself alone gazing off as far away as Corsica, listening to nothing but hawks, while the buses rev their engines down below and cart everyone else off to their next destination. There are hundreds of routes. Let me tell you about one of them.
Paddling and hiking along the Sea of Cortez can be a magical experience. The color of the water changes to reflect that of the sky, sometimes a deep blue, at other times turquoise; often, at sunrise or sunset, it becomes a blend of soft blue and pale pink. The sea’s surface can be smooth and mirror-like; at those times the lines between hills and sky and sea become nearly indiscernible.
Lake Constance is deep and provides life to many brook trout. I made the mistake of not packing my fishing rod, but next time there will be a fish fry for dinner. The avalanche canyon starts just behind the lake. Hiking up the canyon brings amazing views of Mt Constance’s and Lower Constance’s crags.
I recommend traveling there in January – February for the flowers and weather. Desert nights are surprisingly cold – don’t underestimate them – come well prepared for temperatures close to freezing point. If you plan on traveling in summer, plan your trip so that you are out of the sun by 10 am. In both winter and summer bring plenty of water (probably double your normal amount) with you. It is very dry.
Sahale Arm The Sahale Arm is one of the most visually striking hikes in the North Cascades National Park. Even before arriving at the Cascade[Read More…]
It smelled amazing. A certain alpine freshness. I found the campground and a spot on which to toss my pack before heading up the last couple hundred feet and quarter-mile through heather to the pass for a bit of a break. I crested it with views east into the Little Beaver Valley and Whatcom, enormous, rising from the rocky ridge that led south. Challenger was blocked from view. I’d climb higher in a bit to see it. And then Luna – the loneliest mountain – from even higher.
The final leg to Perry Hut was growing on us. The trail cut across the spectacularly barren Gouland Downs, which offered uninterrupted vistas of the mountains around us. Although they were nothing more than hints of rugged slopes floating in the fog, I was enchanted nonetheless. I remember being enthralled with openness of the downs—there wasn’t a sign of shelter or cover in sight.
As dawn filled the hut with light, I woke long before my fellow hikers and perused the hut’s log book, which spoke of a small cave stream nearby that held one of New Zealand’s most fascinating creatures. Glow worms.
As the weather warms, melting snowfields flow into waterfalls, some hundreds of feet high, and make way for knee-deep wildflower displays. The first to appear, avalanche lilies, poke up through the snow as it melts. Other early blooming flowers, such as marsh marigold, rocket-shaped Jeffrey’s shooting stars, scarlet paintbrush, and lupine, in shades of blue and purple, soon follow. By the time the wildflower bloom is at its showy best, the varieties are seemingly endless.
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