On the Road – Washington DC
There are many things to see in Washington DC but it is the memorials that hit home.
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There are many things to see in Washington DC but it is the memorials that hit home.
Yesterday’s trip had taken me across the eastern half of Kentucky. Though as beautiful as the western half as I neared the Appalachians the land gradually turned from rolling hills and grassland to tree-covered foothills and finally mountains. Near Pikesville I was full on into the mountains and as I entered Williamson, West Virginia the sings that this was coal mining country were everywhere.
When I was a kid growing up in Cincinnati, we could look from the bluffs where the mighty Ohio River cut through across and see Kentucky on the other side.
I opened the curtains to a welcome sight the next morning – clear skies. After 36 hours of never ending rain, I was looking forward to getting on the road again – to get an in depth look at the Ozark Mountains.
Almost without notice the geography has changed: what were small dips and gentle knolls in Kansas are turning into larger hills and deeper dips. I’m edging my way into the Ozarks, through towns such as Newkirk, Ponca City and Pawhuska. The driving is easy with little traffic on the road and the hills and valleys picturesque. The towns are equally picturesque.
It is just a handful of miles from Mullinsville to Greensburg, Kansas but far enough that the former was spared, the latter had been almost totally destroyed by an EF5 tornado – the strongest possible – on May 4, 2007, not quite a year earlier.
I love nature’s wildness almost more than anything; its ability to restore me is incomparable.
Grand Canyon National Park slices the Colorado Desert like a deep, open wound, the Colorado River flowing freely like a severed artery. Teetering on the South Rim, I imagined the canyon’s visitors as something akin to being medically corrupt-a throng of grunge surgeons hovering above the imposing gash.
Faced with a looming fire, Hannah takes inventory of her personal belongings.
Since kayaking is a favorite mode of travel of mine, I was curious about exploring Salton Sea, California’s largest inland lake, which sits 228 feet below sea level in the Colorado Desert. Not dissuaded by its occasional piercing sulphuric stench, schools of dead fish, or stinging sandstorms, I drove up to its eastern shore and unloaded my gear, before paddling six miles southeast to a sparsely advertised kayak camp known as Salt Creek.