April 16, 2012


Carmel, California - How Sweet It Is

This overdelayed post will bring me current following an extended romp that took me from the sublime (Bryce Canyon and Zion National Parks) to the ridiculous (Las Vegas) and back again (Sequoia and Yosemite) and on to my present seaside abode in lovely (no, gorgeous) Carmel, California.

I will publish these in stages so to prevent further delay and aggro to my very devoted, anxious and mostly bored readership.

Utah: Hoo-hoos in Fairyland (no, I’m not experimenting that much)

On April Fool’s Day, having slightly recovered from my Grand Canyon hike, I took a quick jaunt down to Sedona, about 35 miles south of Flagstaff (see Bob, I do what you tell me).  On the trip down, via US 89, I experienced what was clearly the most beautiful car ride of my life.  From Flagstaff at 7,000 feet, Route 89 takes you down a narrow canyon winding among steep cliffs of reddish granite and lush trees fed by Oak Creek --  a wondrous snaking road that allowed me to test my S4’s capabilities.  Entering Sedona, you see the massive Jellystone-like curved rock formations that Sedona is famous for (along with all manner of New Age-ey institutes, crystal stores, seers, prophets and expensive spas.

After a couple of hours, I headed back up the canyon and beyond as Route 89 would carry me the over 300 miles to my next destination, Bryce Canyon National Park in southwestern Utah.  This long trip, though, never ceased to provide constant natural beauty although the changes from mile to mile were truly amazing.  Parts were in wooded, snowy high elevation and other sections in desert badlands, with only distant table-top mountains to break the eye's gaze to the horizon.  Other parts were filled with moon-like craters and mysterious mounded piles.  Much went through Indian lands, punctuated by the occasional native craft shop, "smoke" shop and odd gaming place.  The route passes by the Glen Canyon Dam, a still-controversial dam built in the 60's, forming Lake Powell and bringing the bizarre site of big boats on trailers running around the desert.

I finally pulled into the Best Western in Bryce Canyon which, having absorbed Ruby's Inn and Restaurant across the street, is the dominant commercial presence near the park, where everyone goes to sleep, eat, buy groceries, do laundry and rent everything from ATV's to horses.

Monday morning, I got to the park before 8 a.m. and a few minutes later was heading down one of the longer but exceptional trails in Bryce Canyon, the "Fairyland Trail," named for the dream-like and beautiful formations that the trail winds through.  Many are drip-castle like formations of white to orange and sometimes reddish rock - known as "hoo-hoos."  And you thought I was being cute.  The temperature was just 21 degrees with a stiff wind, putting the windchill in the single digits.  Layered and excited, though, I had one of the best hikes of my life over the 8 miles of this loop trail through this wonderland (or Fairyland).  The extraordinary rock formations, especially in the early morning light, was truly a fantasy of natural origin.  Only one other person shared this sight with me that morning, an intrepid young trail runner (they are everywhere out West), who seemed equally stunned to see me chugging along.  Here are a few shots that give a sense of this unique place.

I celebrated this great hike with a delicious lunch of elk chili at the Bryce Canyon lodge, one of the grand old lodges that are in many of the Western national parks.  The next day, I took the park scenic route to its end, at 9,100 feet, with stunning (and freezing) views of southern Utah and the surrounding canyons and mountains.  Here is one view, with lots of hoo-hoos in the foreground.

I left Bryce with a a very special feeling towards its charms and look forward to taking a longer backcountry trip sometime among the hoo-hoos - hopefully in warmer weather.

Zion

Zion National Park is about 60 miles southwest of Bryce but is remarkably different in every respect.  Zion is dominated by massive granite walls and cliffs, that loom over the central canyon that is the most popular part of the park.  There are many areas I could not see with the limited time I had and thus missed out on the canyoneering and other exciting activities available at Zion.

I almost didn't make it at all.  A couple of miles from the entrance, I was being tailgated by a pickup when, just after a bus passed in the opposite direction, a deer that had been hidden from view by the bus suddenly jumped into the road in front of me in the other lane.  It veered to its right, passed just behind my car, in the few feet separating me from the tailgater behind.

With that excitement behind me, I got into the park with my annual pass ($90 - a great deal if you hit a lot of parks) and found the main visitor center.  Zion was hugely crowded - it seemed to have at least 10 times the number of visitors as Bryce.  It is impossible to really drive to all the key sites so I hopped (ok, shouldered my way onto) the very crowded but useful shuttle bus to get to the two hikes I took.  Overall, what I saw of Zion was impressive but seemed to lack some of the character of Bryce.  Or maybe I was just tired.  I rode the bus all the way to where the canyon walls drew so close that you have to continue by foot - the famous Narrows.  Since the path itself finally ends and you have to walk in the stream, my lack of rubber-type boots meant I could not go far up the Narrows but did enjoy the stunning cliffs and views.  A few follow, including one that shows the entrance to the Narrows.

I left Zion feeling that I had not yet begun to scratch the surface of the park, even more so than was typical of most of my park stays.  But Sin City beckoned and, a bit worn out from my trail bounding, I headed down I-15 towards Vegas.

Vegas - Girls in 20 Minutes

I had never been in Las Vegas except to change planes (noting, as all do, the presence of slot machines in the airport concourse).  My experience was not like the Hangover movie set there (except, maybe, for the hangover).  No monkees in the room, I have all my teeth (well, ok, some of them are of more recent vintage than others), no unexplained tattoos (I have yet to hear a good excuse for any tattoo, but I am a curmudgeon; and haven't met Angelina Jolie - yet).

Finding my hotel (the Vdara, a nongaming, non-smoking hotel) was no mean feat but got in and was shown to a very fancy suite.  Amazing how far $109 will go these days when gamblers subsidize your room!  Over the next couple of nights, I saw one of the several Cirque de Soleil shows (Mystere) playing at Treasure Island (an amazing show with some funny audience participation bits), a decent band at B.B. King's and had a few good meals.  I even worked out!  Mostly I walked around - me and about 50,000 others, many of whom were carrying drinks, all of whom were in shorts and tee-shirts (a look I try in vain to banish from my memory) wandering past sights ranging from faux-Paris to faux-NY to faux-Rome (let's not forget faux-Venice).  The depressing thought occurred to me that if the smart money and smart guys and smart marketers accurately captured the interests, values and intelligence of the American people in the extraordinary excess of Vegas, it is a sad commentary on our country.  After so much real beauty in the wild, the ersatz quality of Vegas was a downer.  I have to admit, though, it might be kind of cool to have a big rollercoaster swooping through Wall Street back home in NYC.  Maybe they could repurpose the Goldman Sachs tower.

Like New Orleans, it is a place that caters to people's wants, albeit in an altogether artificial and crass way.  The Strip was lined with small men and women slapping cards that offer, as their t-shirts proclaim in loud, bold letters, to obtain for anyone "girls in 20 minutes."  The ubiquity of these barkers suggested no few takers.  Somehow I managed to pass.  I did not manage to elude the gaming tables and, true to form, lost in fairly short order the amount I allowed myself (ok, with a little extra) playing blackjack and the odd slot.  Both of my sons are now rolling their eyes at the absurdity of Dad even attempting this.  All I can say it, at least I didn't venture to the poker tables!!  I was plyed with free drinks, however, which made it an early evening for the old man.  Not even the dancing waters at Bellagio could keep me awake.

After two day, I'd had enough and left early to relocate to Red Rock, a resort (ok, and casino) 20 miles west of Las Vegas in the foothills of the Red Rock Mountains and near the Red Rock National Recreation Area.  An even cheaper room in a much more pleasant setting (complete with large movie theater complex, bowling alley, stores and very nice pool/spa area).  I had a nice couple of days relaxing around the pool (yes, in the shade) and took a strenuous hike in the Red Rock park, which was much more interesting than I expected.  It is also a huge favorite of rock climbers.  I tried to arrange some mountain biking but without a bike carrier on the car, I'll have to wait on that.  A few views of the area and the hike, which took me up this ridge via the canyon in the middle.

So I finished my Vegas time on a high note (well, not that high but I hope you know what I meant.  No medical marijuana in Nevada.)  I was happy to have finally seen what the place was all about and, having found out, was happy to leave.  Next stop - Californ-i-a, with Sequoia and Yosemite up first.  Yippee!

Sequoia and Yosemite

Crossing into California, although I've driven over 5,000 miles, I felt for the first time that I'd traveled across the country.  It was a long day motoring from Vegas to Sequoia, especially toward the end.  After you enter Sequoia, you have 23 miles to the mid-park lodge that I stayed in.  What I did not know was that these 23 miles were on the windiest, most gut-wrenching uphill road I'd ever encountered.  Those who know me (and, since no one else would bother to read this, you do), know that I have, shall we say, a poor tolerance for motion sickness.  I can get carsick in a taxi going through the viaduct that traverses Grand Central.  Anyway, after a long day and on and empty stomach, this snaking switchback road left me (even after a couple of stops) pretty wiped out.  A nice dinner at the Wasuchi Lodge put things right and me to bed.

Given the elevation and time of year, Sequoia was full of snow and, to my disappointment, many of the trails were closed (at least to those without snow shoes).  I did see the most famous stand of sequoias, including the largest of them all (by volume): the General Sherman in the so-called Presidential Grove, containing trees named after many presidents.  These trees are magnificent, tall, beautiful and adorned with snow.  The color of the sequoia is so affecting, to me even more so that its size.  If there is a color to wisdom, it is the comforting golden red-brown of the awesome, ancient and honorable sequoia.

I also saw another grove surrounding a pond, remarkable not only for the stupendous trees but for the long effort, now successful, to allow the area to return to nature.  For decades, park administrative buildings, lodges, restaurants and a number of grandfathered private cabins lined the grove, which now seems bucolic and tranquil.  Herewith a couple of shots from my point and shoot; I think I have others from my other camera to add later.

The day also provided another example of the benefits of "going the extra mile," a phenomenon I have seen (and benefitted from) many, many times in law practice but seems a proposition of more general application.  Ready to pack it in after finding several trails closed, I decided to head down to Moro Rock.  Was I glad I did.  Moro Rock juts into the canyon that leads up into the park.  Getting to the top requires a short hike to the base of the rock and then a white knuckle, gonad-tightening walk up narrow stairs carved into the rock, aided by the railings bolted into the rock in many places.  At the top, you are gifted a 360 degree view of the canyon and surrounding area from the snowy Sierras to the east to (on a clearer day) the Pacific to the distant west.  The walkway ends like the prow of a ship on top of a pointy section with steep and sheer sides falling to either side.  These capture a little of this remarkable place.

I included the last one because it shows a small part of the nausea-inducing parkway threading its way up toward Moro Rock and then further into the park.  I left Sequoia in much better shape than I arrived, happy for the tremendous trees I'd seen, the Rock that I survived and the prospect of Yosemite.  Sequoia is above 7,000 feet but the trip to Yosemite would take me all the way down to the San Joaquin Valley and then a ways up again to the little town of El Portal, just outside Yosemite's western border.  My car, which had been averaging a respectable 29 mpg, hit over 54 mpg on this leg.  Take that, Prius!

Yosemite

I got to Yosemite well aware that bad weather was coming in so I did not even stop at the hotel but ran into the park to enjoy the last of the sun (or at least precipitation-free weather) before the storms blew through.  Yosemite has many outstanding areas but I only had time for the most well-known area around Yosemite Valley, home to El Capitain, Half-Dome and other notable landmarks.  Here are a couople: Yosemite Falls, 5th highest in the world (more on this later) and El Capitain.

The next morning, as predicted, the rain began but, since the ranger I spoke with the day before had assured me that the trails I had in mind would be open in the rain, I took the bus into the park.  (Yosemite can require snow chains, something I did not have and was not about to put on my summer tires).  I got my rain gear on and, with some layers, my walking sticks and a couple of sandwiches, I started up the Upper Falls trail, which would take me the 2,000 vertical feet to the top of Yosemite Falls.

After half an hour, I noticed that the rain was slowly changing over to snow, which I was glad for.  Little did I know that I was in fact walking into a bit of a blizzard.  About 2/3 of the way up, with snow coming down, I met a guy heading down.  He explained that he was getting cold but that his girlfriend had continued up without him!  I trudged on, with the snow eventually getting almost a foot deep and the footing itself pretty treacherous.  I was so happy to have the hiking sticks, which helped my balance and to feel my way to the top.  Here is a picture of the "trail," which is sort of the ditch that runs along the left side of the photo.

I got to the top with considerable effort.  It was raw, almost white-out conditions and I saw the girlfriend, who had just gone to see the falls and was starting down with a grin on her face.  Mine too.  I slogged to where the view of the falls was and got most of the way down, clutching my poles and the railing but, a short ways from the end, came to a section a few feet across that was at the top of a sharply-angled granite sheet that led down to a sheer drop to the valley floor.  The section was icy and, although I could see the footsteps of the intrepid girlfriend, I decided not to make a run for it.  I turned around, feeling even greater admiration for the young woman's pluck.  Hard to see her with the guy who bailed halfway up.

Back at the summit, I broke out my sandwich and shivered through a meal in the blinding snow.  Soon my hands were frozen and I could feel my toes getting numb so started down, not really having seen much of the falls or anything else given the conditions.  Gingerly and slowly making my way down, I finally noticed that the snow storm was easing a bit and had a shot of the falls, which loomed to my left with a thunderous roar.  This captures what I saw through the snow and fog and shows the top where I had looked down in vain:

I did not take the pictures in black and white but there was no color, just white, black and grey.  Eat your heart out, Ansel Adams!

I finally got to the bottom, exhilarated, exhausted and a little bit stunned.  The evening passed in a blur (no, not a drunken blur), which was good because it was my third night of pizza, which I don't think I will eat for a while.

The next day, I said goodbye to Yosemite and headed west across the valley to Palo Alto, where I would be the guest of Fred Herold and Dana Kleiman.  Fred and I started at Dechert over 20 years ago, he joining from the U.S. Attorney's Office and me, along with many others, from the Olwine Connelly firm.  Fred and Dana moved about 8 years ago from Philadelphia to help start the Palo Alto office and it is fair to say that Fred has gone native.  They have a beautiful home in Mountain View (Fred reminded me that, as a Dechert partner, I still own a part of the house).  Maybe that's why I had to take out the garbage.  In seriousness, Fred and Dana were truly fabulous hosts.  I had dinner one storming night with Fred and Matt Larrabee, who ventured out in the rain before his trip east.  The next night Dana and Fred took me to a great place in Palo Alto that was packed with the intelligensia of Silicon Valley.

After that, we headed for Carmel, on the coast south of SF, where they have a home.  Carmel is utterly gorgeous, one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.  Their wonderful, cozy home is a few blocks from the beach, adjacent to the Pebble Beach golf course, where they took me with Simon, their beloved dog.  Here is me, pretending to be playing Pebble.

After another great meal in Pacific Grove, where we enjoyed an excellent local pinot noir, Fred and Dana took off for home (and Fred for the airport), unwisely leaving me to stay in their Carmel home.  Over the next few days, I grew to love this stretch of coast, wandering up and down from Big Sur to Monterrey, eating well and enjoying the extraordinary sights (and good weather).  On one hike, I got to the top and came down to see an unusual sight (to me) of being able to see above and below a thin wedge of cloud hugging the mountain slope above the stunning beaches.  Check it out.

I also took a friend's advice and did some hiking in the Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park, which has its own coastal sequoia stands and a waterfall that empties onto the beach.  No pics yet but here are a few others of the coast nearby.

Carmel and the Monterrey peninsula has perpetually temperate climate, lots of sun and some great food.  Especially after I introduced (created) the Ned, a dagwood sandwich that I had made at the local Whole Foods.  Key ingredients include roast turkey, avocado, cole slaw, roasted tomato pesto and a few other things that the counter people had never seen put together, all on sliced local sourdough and toasted for a couple of minutes.  So good I went back for another the next day!  The whole area is like a Shangri-la for someone like me -- I felt rested, calm and rejuvenated.  Thanks Dana and Fred!  You guys are the best.  I left for San Francisco feeling almost human.  Another post soon!