Fantasy and Travel Literature, by Shelley Hopkins

My favorite genre is travel literature.  I love to read about people sailing around the world, walking across the states or along trails, and especially discovering new places.  Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien was my first travel literature.  That may sound strange to say, but it is true.  The locations may have been fictional, the people traveling are not even people mostly, but hobbits, elves and dwarves with a few men thrown in to round out the group, and yet this book fits to me exactly what a good travel story should.  Most of the travelers are going to places they have never seen, traveling on foot, meeting new people and having adventures.  Of course their quest is more serious than just a light adventure but that adds to the appeal.

What do travellers hope to gain from their experiences, and hope to share in their stories?  I believe they hope to grow, to learn from the testing that travel can bring.  They hope to know themselves better, they hope to meet interesting people and see and experience new cultures.  When Frodo and Sam take off out the front door of Bag End and start walking, I feel the thrill of starting a good trip.  The walking was pleasant, the packs heavy but bearable, and the weather perfect.  These two adventurers were having a wonderful autumn stroll, sleeping under the stars and enjoying great conversation.  As the story progresses they face danger, meet help along the way, experience the changes in climate and terrain, suffering from the weather, insects and exhaustion.  They face attacks from evil, and the loss of a good friend, and in the end they participate in a great war, in their own way. 

None of these difficulties stop the hobbits from the journey.  They bond with companions in a way that only those that truly need each other are able to bond.  The journey changes them in ways they didn’t expect, and they return home to find it different, still home, but not exactly. 

Every time I read Lord of the Rings I felt the stirrings of wanderlust, I want to stroll across the foggy Downs, visit Tom Bombadil, explore Rivendale, and see the great Elven woods.  I am ready to walk out my front door, just to see what I could see.  Frodo was warned that it was dangerous business just stepping out the front door, joining paths that lead to faraway places.  Perhaps I am just a dreamer, but I feel that way every time I walk out my door for a good walk.  I know I am just wandering around my neighborhood or town, but I also know that I have two strong legs, and I could end up anywhere, as long as anywhere is within 5-6 miles anyway.  With open eyes, and alert senses, I could see all sorts of interesting things, eagles soaring overhead, maybe a stray alligator, although I hope not, beautiful flowers or landscapes, and of course, I simply enjoy having a large sky above my head and a breeze in my face.  We never know what we will see or experience walking out the front door.  And if I see a shiny gold ring, maybe just under a pile of leaves or stuffed in the hollow of a tree, I might not be afraid to see where the discovery may take me.

We Arrive! by Shelley Hopkins

We arrive!  

This is the last in a series about our car trip out west.  Thank you for reading.  The first two pictures are from walks along the Butte where my parents live.  

View while walking near the cabin

View from the front porch

We woke in Zion early, and packed before the heat of the day.  After a long drive north through Utah, and through the traffic nightmare of Salt Lake City, we chose our last campsite before arriving at our destination.  Laura swam in a chilly pool while I sat and read.  Behind her we could see snow covered mountains.  Laura loves to swim, even when the water is very cold.  She was the only person in the water that day.

Our camping neighbors were a Mormon family out camping for the very first time.  The tent and supplies had been a father’s day gift.  We talked while we walked together to a large campfire provided by the KOA. The kids roasted marshmallows, and enjoyed the fire, but soon I was tired and sleepy.  I just rested in my camp chair, waiting on the sun to go down so I could go to bed.  The wife of the family looked at me and said, “You look really tired.”  I agreed and asked her the time.  The sun was just setting, and it was 10:00 at night.  She laughed and said, “I also had a hard time getting used to how late the sun sets in the summer out here.”  She was a Southern girl from Alabama who had fallen in love, converted to the Mormon faith, married and moved to Utah.  She and her husband headed to bed also, after sharing an evening cigarette. 

Father’s Day morning we were up early and ready to go.  Our neighbors had frozen during the night and ended up sleeping in their car.  They watched us as we took down our tent and packed, and he said, “Look, camping mats.  That’s what we should have bought.”  I hope they continued to camp with their kids.  Even the tough sleepless nights develop into good memories.  And I hope they went out and bought camping mats.

The final drive was beautiful.  After 10 days on the road I still enjoyed looking around at the scenery.  For a time we could see the Teton Mountains on the horizon, which was exciting because those mountains are the most spectacular mountain range in the USA.  Even so, we were all eager to get off the road for a while.

Joseph finished the driving, and he was the one that drove up the dirt road to my parent’s log cabin in the wilds of Montana, arriving on Father’s Day.  It was exhilarating knowing we had crossed the country, and ended up exactly where we had planned, using only maps and road signs.  Thrilled, I sat on my Mom’s red couch and instantly fell asleep.

Big Sky Country!

Zion National Park, hot yet beautiful - by Shelley Hopkins

Zion National Park

This is the 7th part of a series that describes a trip we took several years ago.  If you have not read the first part, click here.

Our next canyon was Zion, and I didn’t expect much after the Grand.  We drove into the park in bumper-to-bumper traffic, hardly the wilderness experience I had enjoyed yesterday.  Zion only had one campground, and it was first come first serve.  We were back in the dry heat, and the slow traffic was not helping my mood.

The campground was nearly full; we finally found a grassy dried out spot beside the bathhouse.  There was no escaping the sun or the heat.  After setting up the tent we tried to eat lunch, sitting in the direct sun on our picnic table.  We had picked up a watermelon that morning and I cut it, hoping the fresh fruit would help.    Sitting in the broiling heat in our tiny campsite, crowded by other hot campers, and trying to enjoy the sticky fruit, I could just see my fair skinned children burning and peeling.  My scalp was baking.   I opened the car door, and waves of heat washed over me.

“Hey, where is the suntan lotion?”  I asked.  No one knew.  The car was messy, and full of travel junk, but no lotion.  I started yelling, and throwing things.  Neighboring campers stared.  My hands were sticky, the heat was stifling, and the neighbors were too close.  I was so hot and miserable I couldn’t think.

“Mom!”  Calm down.”  Anna cried.

“Let’s go explore.”  Joseph begged. 

“I’m hot, I don’t feel too good.”  Laura cried. 

We grabbed water bottles, put away the watermelon and left.  We drove to a parking area to pick up a bus into the park.  I discovered later we could’ve walked to the parking lot in less than 5 minutes.  We hopped on the bus with no plans, no ideas, just escape.

Zion has limited car traffic in their park, and instead offers a shuttle service to all the trailheads and points of interest.  The buses are convenient and they cut down on the impact of the public in the park.  It’s a great idea, but we were so hot and unprepared, we just hopped off the bus when it stopped at the next station.

I felt cluttered and lost, but Anna looked at a map and picked a trail.  We walked at first on a paved walkway with many other hot tourists.  I felt depressed.  After all the interesting places we had seen, this was a letdown.   In the distance I saw a trail ride.  Ten horses and riders ambled slowly in the dust.  Clouds of dust swirled around the riders as they followed their leader.  Earlier Anna had talked about doing that, but watching them she shook her head.  “That looks horrible.”

Laura, like me, was hot and whiny, so the older two went on ahead, and were soon out of sight.  After a few minutes Laura sat down in the middle of the trail.  “I wish we had never come here,” she fussed.  Other hikers had to walk around her. 

“Come on Laura, get up.” I begged.  “I have no way to get Anna and Joseph back.  We have to go on.”  

“Besides,” I sighed. “It’s too hot to go back to the campsite.”  Finally we trudged on in the crowded, dreary walk.  I was worried about finding the older kids, and dragging the youngest on with me.  Why did I let the oldest go on?  Traveling as the only adult was so hard.  My complaining mood was growing.

We walked on, me encouraging, pushing, dragging Laura to continue.  As we turned a corner the air cooled.  People were laughing and Joseph walked up to us, soaking wet.   He grabbed my arm.  “Come on, hurry!”  The dry desert was replaced with lush greenery, and a waterfall poured from a grass-covered rock right on to the path.  Anna and Laura giggled and ran back and forth under the icy spray.  I felt my mind clear, and all my anger was washed away.  In one cool and wet surprise we changed into new people. 

On this trip across the country I had wanted adventure and wilderness.  I wanted to experience the nature and its changes across the country.  Looking for a connection with the wilderness I had found crowded campgrounds, hay rides with loud speakers, neighbors washing RV’s like a suburban Saturday, and although I had been enjoying the trip I had an undercurrent of frustration.  The feeling had crested at Zion, then washed through me and melted away under the surprise waterfall.

Laura was the first to say, “Let’s keep walking, see what’s next.” 

At first we hiked behind and in front of other people.  After a long hot climb we found a green pool, beautiful and shaded.  A crowd stood respectfully, and they spoke in hushed tones.

We took off on another trail, and soon found ourselves alone on a beautiful exposed path.  It felt like we were in a desert, and yet around every corner we discovered new plants, flowers and birds.    What a wonderful day of discovery.  Suddenly the trail descended and we found ourselves at a rest area and bus stop.

The bus driver was talkative.  He told us that Zion is an oasis in the desert, a canyon with more plant species than Hawaii.  Parts of the park were lush and green.  The first settlers had been in the desert for days before discovering this “Zion” in the dry wilderness.  In a way our little walk represented this park and its discovery.

We returned to the campsite late, ate a simple supper and fell into the tent exhausted, sweaty and tired.  It was a full moon, and a beautiful evening.  We could hear people all around, but we had no trouble sleeping. 

Travel in the Grand Canyon by Shelley Hopkins

The beauty of the Grand Canyon

This is the 6th part of a series that describes a trip we took several years ago.  If you have not read the first part, click here.

I woke early and climbed out of the tent to look around at the Jacob Lake Forest Service Campground.  After all the KOA’s it was nice to sit in my camp chair sipping my coffee and only have trees for company.  After the hot days it felt strange to be chilly, but our elevation here was 7900 ft.   I decided to let the kids sleep late, and I simply relaxed, listening to near silence, only the rattle of the Mexican jumping beans on the wooden picnic table.  This was our one purchase from Albuquerque.

Our campsite looked like the west of my memory, and imagination, tall pine trees with no underbrush, deep blue high elevation sky, with the feel of a clear soft air.  A humming bird zipped through camp visiting the flowers. 

Yesterday during the drive I had had a scare only the mother of driving teens can understand.  Joseph was driving through a beautiful rugged landscape.  The road had been straight for miles, and slowly we began climbing spectacular mesas.  The height of the mesa was deceptive as we drove upward; the car took a long wide curve, and started downhill with a sheer drop of thousands of feet, just under my window.  Right by Joseph’s ear I screamed, “Slow down, slow down, slow down.”  I was in a total panic.  Startled, he struggled to not run off the road.  The sudden height scared me and my screams scared Joseph.  He responded well, but I felt extremely helpless.  Once the panic of my screams wore off, the kids teased me, saying, “Mom is afraid of heights,” but it was more than that.  It was a helpless, completely out of control feeling. 

In Tuba City we bought milkshakes, and I drove, back in control.  It was hot, and my car wasn’t driving correctly.  Worried about the strain on the engine, I turned off the air conditioning, rolled down the windows and instantly felt hot, drained, and dry.  I could see energy leaving my body. 

We drove, and drove.  Everyone fell asleep but me.  I was driving on 89A, still flat.  After a time I began to see a faint purple line far down the road.  After an hour of driving the purple line had become a purple wedge along the horizon.  The sun was setting and the purples, pinks, and blues in the distance were fabulous.  The colors softened as the air cooled, in slow paced waves.  The purple wedge developed into a wall called the Vermillion Cliffs.  We crossed the Navajo Bridge over the Colorado River and stopped to enjoy the view.  The water snaked along a riverbed, passing through various shades of purple and then continuing on to work on the Grand Canyon. 

It was dark when we finally arrived at the campground.  We set up by flashlight, quickly gulped down a supper, and collapsed into bed, our forgotten firewood resting beside the fire ring.   

Now we were all well rested, and happy with the cool weather and beautiful campsite.  After a lazy morning we decided to see the Grand Canyon.  I had no expectations about what we would see.  We entered the park and paid for a National Park’s Pass.  Following signs we drove through wooded areas for quite some time.  Driving down the tree lined road I wasn’t sure where the canyon, or parking would be.  I was just driving.  Suddenly the trees parted on the left.  At the edge of the road the canyon fell, deeper than our vision.  Once again I felt vertigo while driving.  The trees had hidden the steep canyon, and the suddenness of the fall made my very security on land feel like a lie. 

The Grand Canyon was everything we expected and more.  We explored the North Rim, just leisurely moving from one pull out to another, following every trail, stopping to look and simple stopping at times to absorb the beauty.  We felt no need to rush, no need to be everywhere, just a need to look.  The wind was brutal, and strong, and the canyon deep.  The paths were full of people.  There were times I held on to Laura for fear of the wind blowing her away. 

I had been told more people visit the South Rim, that the wait to enter the park could be an hour or more during the busy summer months, and that the crowds were huge.  We chose the North Rim for those reasons, and although there were lots of people, I never felt crowded.  The immensity and grandeur of the canyon erased the presence of the people.

That night we enjoyed our campfire and relaxed.  I sat in my chair in the ring of light, and enjoyed the crackle of the fire.  Beyond the firelight it was dark, like only forest service campgrounds can be.  We were finally camping.