Of course, so many different places come up for different reasons. For sheer beauty, there’s New Zealand. Everyone raves, setting up high expectations – always a worry. But New Zealand doesn’t disappoint. But for me, the country held a different magical appeal: little Stewart Island to the south of South Island that even many Kiwis don’t know about. With a population of 401 – the number never changed no matter how many people I asked: “Well, Ralphie died so that’s 400 – but no, the twins were born. So 401. Yup, 401, definitely.” Plus a mere 18 miles of roads and more water taxis than land ones, Stewart is 80% national park with an insulated community that still remains a little wary of outside visitors. I was glad they let me in.

Let’s see? For sheer diversity of culture, it’s hard to beat China. Not Beijing or Shanghai, of course – or even Guilin with its magnificent karst Mountains – but way out in the countryside where they still plow the fields with a resident water buffalo and local tribes plant tea in their traditional multi-colored costumes.

And a trip to Namibia introduced me to an even more primitive lifestyle. Not often, ensconced in our usually comfortable Western hemisphere lifestyle, do we take the time to reflect upon how so very much of the world lives very differently. Eighty-five percent of the world’s population live in poverty. And there are some civilizations that have very little knowledge of the world outside their small communities. And no, Talya, you can’t text them for more information.

My time with the Himbas re-enforced that. The beautiful and gentle Himba people are the last remaining tribe in Namibia to cling savagely to its native identity dating back more than 500 years.
Although most of the country’s 12 separate ethnic groups have retained their own language, food and beliefs, many have been converted to Christianity and, while still very poor, have become somewhat westernized. Not so the Himbas. Clad in very little clothing, their bodies covered daily through a lengthy ritual with red ocher pigment mixed with animal fat, the Himbas maintain a primitive culture. There are no stores in the village, no satellite dishes and no outhouses. They use the woods that border their village as their toilet.

Unlike other indigenous cultures, the more isolated and economically self-sustaining Himbas were able to resist the influence of missionaries who wanted them to cover their bodies; change their gods; upgrade their stick, mud and dung huts; and modernize their nomadic lifestyle. I was the one who left newly educated and impressed.

Countries are not known only for their interesting two-legged inhabitants; their four-legged creatures are equally intriguing. And although I’ve been on several safaris, I’d go tomorrow if another opportunity presented itself.

Usually atop an open-air jeep designed for ultimate sightseeing somewhere in Africa, we’d leer, gawk, ooh, ah, jump up, sit down, jump up again, all the while snapping picture after picture of a huge expanse of wild creatures surprisingly willing to share their open spaces, with each other as well as us.
It’s hard to describe the wonder of a leviathan elephant whose tusks almost reach the ground, a black-maned lion baring his teeth or half-a-dozen adolescent zebras cavorting around a waterhole within feet of the jeep. Home to some infinite number of animals, I often felt I had climbed into the Discovery Channel.

Occupying those omnipresent endless plains were millions of hoofed animals continually on the move in search of pasture for survival, constantly watched and pursued by the many predators whose own survival depends on feeding off them. Although I’ve been on numerous safaris, I never get tired of watching that dance. I’d love to take you on one, T.

But there are myriad adventures to be had at home as well. How about the five Utah parks for starters? Arches, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, Bryce and Zion share many commonalities, including uncompromising splendor, history of both the earth and the country, and a sense of personal sanctuary. And then there are their differences!

Aptly named Arches National Park is a mecca of some of nature’s most intriguing creations: architectural designs that span space and confound logic for which no man-made blueprint was ever drawn. Nearby Canyonlands requires a 4-wheel drive vehicle – preferably with a driver. At 6000 feet, the view from Island in the Sky looks down at cliffs 2000 feet tall, arising out of a magnificently gouged and painted landscape.

Although geologic history is stressed in every park, at Capitol Reef, it’s what defines it – ranging from 80 to 270 million years old. A stroll along the Grand Wash River bed nearby, so narrow in parts you can touch both canyon walls at the same time, evoked old western film images of the lonely cowboy out on the trail.

Bryce Canyon is synonymous with hoodoos – phantasmagorical images emerging from weird and wonderful rock formations. There are thousands of the little (and not so little) guys in all shapes, colors and sizes. Arriving at Zion reinforces the idea that each park is unique. At the other parks, your line of sight extends out toward the horizon as well as down into the canyons. At Zion, you look straight up-and-up-and-up. Towering cliffs – some of the tallest in the world – flank you on either side. They meet the sky at a point that strains both the neck and the imagination.

But not all travel-writing trips are to magnificent scenic areas or fascinating destinations. Some are just quirky. Enter Scottsdale, Arizona’s Cowboy College where I channeled Billy Crystal in City Slickers – though you may be too young to remember that movie. But I was in training to be a cow hand ready to go on a cattle drive.

Heels down. Toes out. Squeeze with calves, not knees. Lighten up on the reins. Sink your butt into the saddle. So began my first riding lesson which was followed by instructions in grooming, shoeing, advanced riding techniques and roping. My experience up to then had been an occasional trail ride where the horse was presented to me all spruced up and saddled and all I was expected to do was mount it. Not so here.All of which was way outside my comfort zone – and great fun. In truth, most people at the college actually do then go on a multi-day cattle drive. My thighs were just thankful it didn’t have to get back on the horse the next day.

So hopefully, Talya, this gives you some idea of the very rough life of a travel writer. And oh yes, there is one other place high on our list of favorites to visit: your house!

The post Reflections on 35 years of travel-writing: Some Favorite Destinations appeared first on Traveling Archive.

Hiking slick rock at seemingly a 90-degree angle, I came to a visual wonder, and understood why so many made the climb.

Gaping at high cliff walls adorned with sharp pinnacles leaping skyward, it looked like the earth had been splashed with multi-hued red dyes, all running together.

Such is life among the five national parks of southern Utah — all of which re-opened to the public in May with lots of room for social distancing.  Arches, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, Bryce and Zion share many commonalities, including uncompromising splendor, history of both the earth and the country, and a sense of personal sanctuary. And then there are their differences!

These five mystical worlds have been created over millions of years by the movement of the earth, water and wind, rain and drought, freezes and thaws and, especially, erosion. Even today, these same elements continue to change the face of the parks. After more than 150 million years, they are still works in progress.

Aptly named Arches National Park is a mecca of some of nature’s most intriguing creations: architectural designs that span space and confound logic for which no man-made blueprint was ever drawn. With over 900 such structures, it boasts the largest concentration of naturally occurring arches in the world.

The trail to Delicate Arch, one of its most famous, is anything but. Arduous is the more apt term for the mostly uphill climb over slick rock. By the time I neared the top, I was prepared to trip the next person heading down who said, “Oh, but it’s worth it.”

Still, after rounding the final obstacle, the only word that emerged with what I was sure was my final breath, was “Wow.” Leaving Delicate Arch, I was able to focus on the beauty of the surroundings. Going up, I could concentrate only on putting one foot in front of the other.

Nearby Canyonlands requires a 4-wheel drive vehicle — preferably with a driver. At 6000 feet, the view from Island in the Sky looks down at cliffs 2000 feet tall, arising out of a magnificently gouged and painted landscape.

The panorama at Grandview Point is unequaled in terms of sheer expanse, providing a broad view over the entire park, stretching across countless canyons — and beyond. Indeed, Canyonlands is a series of spectacular views strung across hundreds of miles of remote wilderness. Suffice it to say, “Scenic Overlook” signs are redundant.

The highlight of the park, for me, was the Shafer Trail. The dirt road, rough in spots, very rough in others, is bordered on one side by perpendicular cliffs; on the other, the afore-mentioned sheer 1300-foot drop. Riding along the very narrow, bumpy ledge, I found myself leaning far to the right in the hopes of influencing the car further in that direction.

Even so, I managed to appreciate the other-worldly landscape we were passing. Halfway down, the mountain on our right was so high I could barely see its top. On the other side, the drop to the vast valley below was vertigo-inducing.

The drive itself — in lowest gear — is slow-going. Bouncing up and down and rocking side to side 2000 feet above any sane person’s comfort level for four hours, you can lose several pounds without ever leaving the car. A plus, as I saw it.

Although geologic history is stressed in every park, at Capitol Reef, it’s what defines it — ranging from 80 to 270 million years old. Dana and Milo Breite from Shingle Springs, California, were as giddy as two kids in a video game store. “We’ve been collecting rocks and exploring geologic sites together for decades, and this is one of the highlights of all our excursions,” exclaimed Dana.

Expanding on the theme, a 10-mile scenic drive through the park furthers the geologist’s perspective. Mile by mile, and layer by sedimentary rock layer, our driver detailed what weather patterns, geographical changes, erosion and other influences coalesced to create the nearly 200 million years of geologic history through which we were passing.

A stroll along the Grand Wash River bed nearby, so narrow in parts you can touch both canyon walls at the same time, evoked old western film images of the lonely cowboy out on the trail. Here cinema meets cinema verite. This is Butch Cassidy country. He used to ride along this same stream bed (though it had water in it, then) and hide among the cavernous cliffs overhead — now called, not surprisingly, Cassidy Arch.

A park away, Stan Weintraub of St. Augustine, Florida claimed he could spend hours in Bryce Canyon just looking at the hoodoos and assigning them different imaginary configurations. “You can write books about what you think you are seeing,” offered Stan.

Bryce Canyon is synonymous with hoodoos — phantasmagorical images emerging from weird and wonderful rock formations. There are thousands of the little (and not so little) guys in all shapes, colors and sizes. The park’s unique rain and ice patterns sculpt these fanciful spires of rusted limestone; erosion at its most imaginative. More than geologic oddities, hoodoos cast a magical spell on all who return their stony gaze.

I recommend driving to taking the newly available shuttle; it covers only 5 of the 14 overlooks, thereby overlooking (in a negative way) Natural Bridge, Aqua Canyon and Rainbow Point, among the most memorable of the observation points.

The color-intense view from Aqua Canyon — vivid coppers glowing in ochres and vermilion, vying with slashes of oranges and invading magentas — challenges the most expensive of cameras or cell phones to reproduce it accurately. Just below, sandstone statues of a Pioneer Woman with bustled skirt and Mad Hunter with Hat reign as king and queen over a hoodoo chessboard.

Hiking brings an intimacy with surroundings impossible to experience from an observation ledge. Hikers way below negotiating in, around and through the hoodoo pillars resemble colorful, marching toothpicks. Ah, but the stories they will be able to tell as those “who knew the hoodoos” — well.

Arriving at Zion reinforces the idea that each park is unique. At the other parks, your line of sight extends out toward the horizon as well as down into the canyons. At Zion, you look straight up — and up — and up. Towering cliffs — some of the tallest in the world — flank you on either side. You’re now on the canyon floor, looking up at straight, sheer masses of Navajo sandstone unencumbered by frilly outgrowths and hoodoo pillars. They meet the sky at a point that strains both the neck and the imagination.

Water is an anomaly here, in contrast to the harsh drought of the other parks. The soft-running Virgin River, which accompanied me on many of the hikes throughout the park, is responsible for creating the huge rock gorges that encircle the park — and it took only 5-to-16 million years to do so.

At Bryce, riding the shuttle is optional; at Zion, it’s mandatory — the only way visitors may tour the park. Running at six-minute intervals, it takes you to eight stops which are simply starting points for further exploration by foot.

Because you’re so close to the canyons, ‘towering’ replaces ‘expanse’ as the word of the day. Viewing options at Zion are more under-looks than overlooks. For those who are afraid of heights — Zion is the park!

Hiking provides even greater connection, and several of the paved trails are easily traversed. A short, albeit uphill, stroll leads to Hanging Gardens, where small waterfalls fed by springs high in the cliffs above tease plants and flowers directly out of the rock.

The Riverside Trail hike passes through surprisingly lush vegetation to streams where you can cool your feet; skip stones with the kids; picnic or simply sit upon a rock and get lost in the scenery. The Virgin River makes its less-than-virgin run through and over rocks, emitting self- satisfied sounds as a backdrop to the reverie.

Visitors, depending upon personal preference, can start in Zion and head north for increasingly spectacular views (my choice); or begin at Arches and drive south to save the best for last, as many consider Zion to be. Either way, it is impossible not to be enthralled by the unimaginable replay of expansive beauty and scenic motifs that present themselves in so many different ways from one park to the other. For more information, visit the Utah Office of Tourism website or call them at 800/200-1160.

The post Breath-Holding Beauty; Harrowing Drives; Unique Geology; Fascinating History – Welcome to Utah appeared first on Traveling Archive.