The ranger leaned in over the glass-topped map, lowered his voice, and asked conspiratorially,
“Now, do you want to do some OFF trail hiking?”
“Ohhh, uh- that depends. Do I need a permit?”
“No. Go to the South Gate station tomorrow. Tell the ranger there I sent you.”
“Now, do you want to do some OFF trail hiking?”
“Ohhh, uh- that depends. Do I need a permit?”
“No. Go to the South Gate station tomorrow. Tell the ranger there I sent you.”
He saw how the children delighted in the stuffed playthings, and he too wanted to deliver that same joy.
 Petrified tree slice |  Painted desert |
And like that I was initiated into the speakeasy underground the U.S. Park Service, gaining “Authorized Only” access, and kicking off a series of solo hikes there and elsewhere with no map, just verbal clues and finger pointing to vague objects on the distant horizon. It always pays to be respectful and inquisitive to fellow humans, and that goes doubly so for park rangers who know where all the cool shit is.
“I’ve only been there twice. Only told one other couple about ‘em. You won’t find them at first, but once you do, you’ll see them all over.” Randy concluded with paternal emphasis, “And watch out for snakes!”
I strapped on my bag, tightened my boot laces, and began the three mile trek towards the multi-hued mesas, keeping a keen ear out for the signature rattle of that particular serpentine species.
“I’ve only been there twice. Only told one other couple about ‘em. You won’t find them at first, but once you do, you’ll see them all over.” Randy concluded with paternal emphasis, “And watch out for snakes!”
I strapped on my bag, tightened my boot laces, and began the three mile trek towards the multi-hued mesas, keeping a keen ear out for the signature rattle of that particular serpentine species.
I had a sense of what to look for, drawing on a cache of images I’d glanced at and surprising stored over the years. I aimed my binoculars to scan over the tumbled blocks, scanning through the light block faces for a distinctive dark surface of the rock, which the Anasazi would have etched to reveal the lighter layer below to leave their tales of antelope, mountain lions, birds… even an extremely accurate spiral sundial to mark the summer solstice.
Petrified Forest National Park is positively littered with the sparkling crystals of prehistoric conifers. But it’s more than just really (really, really) old trees. Hundreds of years ago the site hosted the Anasazi, the ancient ancestors of the Navajo, whose remnants of ceremonial painted pottery and storytelling petroglyphs survive in fragments strewn over the mesas and washed down through the riverbeds. Long before then even, pre-dinos lumbered through what was swampland. To this day researchers and hapless tourists are still discovering the fossils of new species of Triassic megafauna.
<Freezes lenses.>
What’s that, about 100 feet up, near the mesa top?
<Scrambles up, tentatively springing from rock to rock.>
Stairs? Chisel marks?! Thousands of pottery shards, and … petroglyphs!
Flushed with the excitement of discovery, I spent an hour hopping over boulders, snapping up pics, and trying to imagine the vista and the stone pathway that existed hundreds of years ago before the Pueblo People moved away and this edge of the mesa succumbed to natural forces.
What’s that, about 100 feet up, near the mesa top?
<Scrambles up, tentatively springing from rock to rock.>
Stairs? Chisel marks?! Thousands of pottery shards, and … petroglyphs!
Flushed with the excitement of discovery, I spent an hour hopping over boulders, snapping up pics, and trying to imagine the vista and the stone pathway that existed hundreds of years ago before the Pueblo People moved away and this edge of the mesa succumbed to natural forces.
 |  |
I lowered my way down to the flat wash, brimming with elation. That’s when I spotted a fossilized joint bone half-buried in the sand. DINOSAUR? PRE-DINOSAUR?! Whatever it was (and it really didn’t matter at that point), my childhood fantasy was complete. I was Indiana Jones for the day.
They'll name the new species "Jadesaurus Rex"
Me, about now:
If this sounds like adventure, it has been. But adventure, like many things, is a practice and a state of mind. Adventure is a spaciousness that allows for opportunities to be identified and deviations made. Adventure comes in many shapes and sizes.
Adventure is inarguably wandering the surreal, Dali-esque sand sculptures of the Bisti Badlands, encountering a red-tanned naked man wearing only a neon-orange hat, and ducking when a small but determined wind vortex approaches, whirling like a crazed poltergeist. Adventure is crossing over to Mexico because... why not? Most would agree that adventure is tobogganing white sand dunes, waking at 3:45am to witness 500 hot air balloons go aloft, and detouring to chase a huge orange moon.
Adventure is inarguably wandering the surreal, Dali-esque sand sculptures of the Bisti Badlands, encountering a red-tanned naked man wearing only a neon-orange hat, and ducking when a small but determined wind vortex approaches, whirling like a crazed poltergeist. Adventure is crossing over to Mexico because... why not? Most would agree that adventure is tobogganing white sand dunes, waking at 3:45am to witness 500 hot air balloons go aloft, and detouring to chase a huge orange moon.
Ostentatious Canyon? Magnanimous Canyon? I forget. Some big canyon in AZ.
 Bisti Badlands, NM. Landscaping by Salvador Dali and Dr. Seuss  Bryce Canyon, UT. How do you do the hoodoo that you do?  Zion, UT. I spy with my little eye...  Vermillion Cliffs, AZ  Tent Rocks, NM. Are those tent rocks in your park, or are you just excited to see me?  Mars. Wait- no. Coral Pink Sand Dunes, UT  Zion, UT. Zi-on? More like Zi-OFF THE HOOK! |  White Sands, NM. Surf's up!  Dixie, UT. Disneyland nailed it.  Canyon de Chelly, AZ  I prefer these slots to the ones in Vegas  Prickly pear snack |
Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta, NM
But adventure could also be less-than-successful attempts at carbequing, eating the same sandwich for five consecutive meals, and making the most of chocolate bars liquified by the desert heat by mixing them with almond butter and calling the concoction “Nutella”. Adventure can be climbing through your motel window because the door jammed, or collecting all your clothes in a hazmat bag to be washed at the highest heat setting because that cheap fleabag motel left you with bites all over. Adventure can be found in a 20-minute conversation with a stranger who is no longer a stranger by the end. Adventure is pulling up to a shady park to nap and recharge for… you guessed it: the next adventure.
Vivian receives a warm welcome from her skeleton brethren in... where the hell are we again?
 Let's call it "Nutella" and leave it at that  Deodorant fondue  I'd be exhausted too  Breakfast of champions. And lunch. And dinner. And breakfast again, and lunch, and...  Too much adventure |  At least I'm eating better than this poor bastard  And worth every penny.  Still testing the ideal carbeque engine heat location  Carbeque 101: Vegetables  I'm lichen what I'm seein'! |
Adventure can be found nearly everywhere, depending on how you frame it. What will you call adventure?
