St. Louis was a fun visit, even if I got lost and could never figure out how to actually get to the Arch. The closest I ever got was a park across the river. This is the view from just outside the bustling metropolis of Manhattan, Kansas. People have said that Kansas is a boring drive. Personally, I think I would enjoy living in a place where cows outnumber people. Loveland Pass (11,990 ft.), just of Interstate 70 between Breckinridge and Copper Mountain was my first taste of the Rockies. After a day of periodic heavy rain, this sight brought hope for clearing skies just outside of Leadville. I’m no stranger to mountains, but the Rockies take it to a whole new level, literally. At this point, I could barely take twenty steps without stopping to take a break. I still couldn’t breathe, but it felt good to make it to the top – Mt. Elbert (14,439 ft.) – the highest point in Colorado. Right before and after this picture, I was laying on a rock, wondering why sleeping at 9,000 ft. the night before hadn’t seemed to acclimate my body in the least to this elevation. I guess it takes longer than a few hours. My lungs ultimately survived my return to more typical elevations near Tennessee Pass and the former site of Camp Hale, the WWII training facility for the 10th Mountain Division, developed in response to the success of ski-mounted Finnish troops against the Soviets. The San Rafael Reef on the eastern edge of the San Rafael Swell, just northwest of Moab, Utah. The Interstate carves through the massive formation by way of a canyon that was originally only several feet wide in some places. The unforgiving high desert regions of south-central Utah have a way of preserving things. You never know what you’ll find. The red cliffs of Zion National Park are always worth a visit. Bureau of Land Management areas are always good places to camp. Remote, quiet, free, and relatively unknown by all but a handful of locals, this area lies only a mile or two from Zion National Park. If you didn’t know it’s there, you would drive right past it. Kolob Canyon, another hidden jewel of Zion National Park, is a much less popular (read: “less busy”) area of the park that can only be accessed by a 45 minute drive out to Interstate 15 and then north. This smaller and more biodiverse canyon houses old homesteads, hidden waterfalls, hanging valleys, and incredible views of the shear cliffs at the edge of the Colorado Plateau, all of which you can enjoy in relative solitude, a feeling unknown in much of Zion Canyon. As I was driving through Nevada, I thought it would be a good idea to drive the strip in Las Vegas. Four hours later, and I was still struggling to find my way out of the cram-packed, greed-filled, disturbingly and drunkenly (at 10:30 in the morning) joyous furnaces that they call streets. Ultimately, am I glad I visited Vegas (for probably the first and last time in my life)? Yes. Do I wish that I had rather spent those hours out here, in the desert, chasing mirages and contemplating the shadows cast by a few lonely clouds? Most Certainly. One of the informational kiosks that I stopped to read on my way down into Death Valley told of early settlers that could not get their horses down from the rim of the valley. Supposedly, the horses felt the oppressive, life-sucking heat rising from the valley floor and refused to step one foot off the more hospitable rim and towards the forbidden plains below. They were the smart ones, if you ask me. Myself? I plunged full speed in my air-conditioned, metal container on wheels, down, across and back up this massive valley, all in relative comfort. I have rarely been more thankful for modern inventions. I can confirm, it’s hot down there. The view up Onion Valley Road, towards Onion Valley Trailhead, just over Kearsarge Pass from the heart of the Sierras. I dropped off a resupply bucket at the trailhead. You can see smoke in the form of a light haze scattered among the peaks and more pronounced in the valleys. I tried not to let it discourage me. The smoky, drought-stricken Florence Lake. I dropped off a resupply bucket here to be transported to Muir Trail Ranch, right off the JMT. To reach the lake, involves driving nearly two hours to cover 23 miles of the single-width, pothole ridden, switchback laced Kaiser Pass Road through the mountains. A beautiful drive, it feels more like a trail than a road. Sadly, the area that the road passes through was almost entirely burned in the Creek Fire that would start just a couple days later and burn for 110 days before being entirely contained. The same fire would ultimately end my JMT thru hike. Yosemite Valley is a scene like none other. Towering granite formations of inconceivable height overlook vast wooded valleys. It is easy to feel a sense of wonder from the sheer, majestic scale and the granite permanence of your surroundings. If there were roughly half a million less people crammed into the valley, it would be easy to feel like the Ahwahnechee people, appreciating the refuge the valley provides and the resources that flow abundantly there, and feeling a sense of home between the towering cliffs. By the evening of September 1st, I had finally figured out how to wedge my bear canister into my pack, and was finally ready to begin my journey on the following morning. Next: The Trail Pt. 1 (JMT)