Beth and I found ourselves in

Taos, New Mexico, a quaint little town nestled in the southern tail of the

Rocky Mountains. We walked through the town and did all the “touristy” things including the apparently infamous “Plaza.” In the Plaza we had found a bookstore that listed all the nice swimming holes,

hot springs, and free camping in the area which is basically what we’ve been looking for. Turning the book over we saw it cost $20.00.

“I’m not paying for this.” I said.

“Yeah, maybe we can download the text online or something.” Beth stated.

“Yeah, we should copy some stuff down in case we can’t find it.” So there we were sprawled out on the floor of a bookstore with pen and paper in hand copying down directions and maps while getting curious glances from the customers and angry stares from the clerk behind the counter. We were surprised to notice how many

hot springs were in

New Mexico and how many were so close. We headed back to the car ready to take a soak. We had parked a fair distance from the Plaza because parking was $5.00 near it which is ridiculous. Actually we pulled into the parking lot, and the lot attendant was, “Oh

New York, yeah, I’m from there, yeah it’s $5.00 to park here.”

“Seriously??” I questioned. “Uh, I guess we’ll just park on the street pointing to some open spaces lining the street.

“Oh it’s $5.00 to park there too.” He said.

“What? To park on the street? Well I guess we’ll park somewhere outside of town then.” And that’s what we did. Although we found out it wasn’t $5.00 to park on the street.

So there we were making the trek back to the car which proved to be more difficult than it should have been. But when all the street signs are in Spanish and they all sound the same (to a non-speaker of Spanish) such as Los Llamos, La Llana, Arroyo Cana, Aroyyo which turned a 5 minute walk to about 20 minutes with us sprawling this cartoon map of Taos every ¼ mile.

It was time to take the Taurus off road. Heading to the

hot springs was a series of dirt roads which became worse as we drove. About a mile from the springs (too far to turn around) a 60 degree hill going downhill emptied into about a 2 foot pit full of jagged rocks then quickly bumped back up another 2 feet, but only on the left side. We looked at the pit, we looked at each other, we looked back at the pit. “Alllright.” I said. We pulled forward slowly, scrape, scrape, slower, sccccccccrrrrrraaaaaapppppe, then gunned it and we were over. We pulled to the next intersection, wondering if this car could make it the rest of the way, and another Taurus pulled up heading from the springs. It’s true the Taurus really is a bull.

We parked at the top of the hill looking for the trail head.

And started the ½ mile hike down the side of the cavern making our way to the

Rio Grande.

 

 

The river is actually a lot wider than this picture makes it look, we were probably a few hundred feet higher than it at this point. But it is amazing to look at the erosion that’s happened over the course of a few million years, you can actually follow the strata down the river and back and over to the side you’re standing on. Looking at the millennia pass as quickly as your eyes can move upwards and downwards you realize how short life can be. How much has humankind changed, how different is the world now, what has this river seen, been a part of since its existence. How many different people have bathed in it, used it for water, hiked along side and enjoyed its natural beauty. In this chaotic society in which we live, it’s soothing to think about something so infinite and lasting, something so stable ultimately makes your mind still.

We reached the

hot springs which were several pools of water surrounded by large rocks separating the pools from the river just a few feet away. There was an older naked man there which surprised us because there were no other cars in the parking lot, and he seemed to come from nowhere. He might have been a real mountain man although he was complaining about the temperature of the water which didn’t seem very mountain man like. The pools were spacious and probably around 95-98 degrees which seemed like the perfect temperature after a long day of walking in the sun.

 

 

 

 

 

We stayed at the pools until dusk and saw the first stars poking through the vast bluish sky and made the hike back to the car. Instead of driving over the pit in the dark we set up camp right by the parking lot and awoke to the sun bursting over the canyon with several hot air balloons circling overhead.   

 

 

 

 

Now, I don’t know if I’m crazy in this, but when we began this trip I was under the assumption that showers at truck stops were free, or a couple bucks, maybe one of those quarter operated machines. I remember driving to

Oregon last winter and stopping at a Pilot where they had keys for the showers in a little box. I lifted the box, took a key and got a free shower. What I am realizing now is I stole that shower, and nothing in this world is free.

            I remember stopping in North Carolina, or

Tennessee or something. Beth and I were looking for a shower feeling pretty grubby and were actually prepared to spend a couple bucks on it. I checked out the showers and they were locked, I went to the front counter and inquired, “How much are the showers?”

The clerk said, “Eleven dollars.” I didn’t move or say anything, I just stood there mouth gaped open staring. She said it again louder as though I didn’t hear her.

“For the showers?!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah,” obviously annoyed I was wasting her time. I walked from the counter shaking my head trying to understand how hot water could cost so much. I couldn’t think of anything.

 

“Eleven dollars. The showers cost eleven dollars.” I stated in disbelief.

“What? Do you get a free towel or something?” Beth asked.

For the next few weeks we tried different truck stops and different ways to score a free shower. At a Petro we were able to walk right in, no questions asked. I suppose if you act like you should be there, people generally feel you should be.

 

I remember a few instances when we were caught in the act. One time I walked in the back of a Flying J looking for an open door. The guy that cleans out the showers popped out of nowhere and was staring at me from a few feet away.

“You looking for somethin’” He said in a southern drawl.

“Uh, yea, the showers,” I said. He didn’t say anything and just stared at me. “Which are right here. . . .” I said pointing to the doors surrounding me. He still didn’t say anything. “How much are they, do you know?” I asked.

“What?!” he almost yelled. “How much are they!?” He seemed confused.

“Yeah, what are they free?” I asked excitedly.

“What you eva hear of a free showa? hahahahaha” He could barely contain himself

“Uh yeah actually.” I said walking away still hearing him laugh in the background, wondering if it was really that funny. The showers turned out to be $9.00 which meant we were moving on.

 

On another occasion we headed into a Pilot and found a door open. Beth rushed into it and I went back to the car for the bathroom supplies. I came back and she was gone and the door was closed. Apparently after I had left the guy that cleans the showers knocked on the door, Beth opened up, thinking it was me with the supplies.

“You lost honey?” He asked.

“Umm no.” Beth said.

“You lookin’ for the restrooms?”

“Nope, just wanted to take a shower.”

“Ya gotta pay for it, these ain’t free.”

“Oh really? The door was open so I just assumed.” Putting on a show that would have made any actress proud. I find playing ignorant is best in these types of situations instead of arguing about the ridiculousness of these prices. She left, we left and headed down the road.

 

The Pilot is the only one you can really break into because of the box that holds the keys, however they started putting cameras up fixated on the box. That’s right, one camera in the store to cover all the merchandise the store sells, and one to make sure no one gets any free water.

In any case, we found if you must pay for a shower, you can usually get a two for one deal.  Just pass off the key when you’re finished instead of taking it to the box.  One guy even told us he’d grab us another towel after he saw the looks on our faces after he told us the cost of a shower. 

 

Although actual hot showers are few and far between, Beth and I aren’t exactly festering.  We can usually find some pretty nice lakes worthy of taking a midday dip in.  Even though we don’t use shampoo or anything because it would pollute the waters, it’s refreshing and seems to do the trick.  After all, what did people do before shampoo and soap?  Water works just fine.   

blister.jpgtower-from-top.jpgview-from-top.jpgtower-from-bottom.jpgAh, the

Great

Smokey

Mountains. Beth and I drove into a small town on the southern end of the national park in

North Carolina. I wanted to grab a trail map or a topographical map of the area and plan out a few day hikes. For some reason if you want to backpack and camp in the national park a permit is required which restricted our hikes to day hikes because there was no way we were going to pay to camp.

We stopped to get some gas and I actually found a trail map inside. I spread that guy out right in the store making sure it was detailed enough and got more than a few stares from some locals. The clerk behind the counter asked, “You lost honey? Where you headin’”

“Uhhhh here I guess.”

“Hahaha, you come all the way out here for little ‘ol

Bryson

City?”

“Yea I guess, that and the

Smokey

Mountains.”

“You in the

Smokey

Mountains.” Which we weren’t we were just south of the park, but really what would be the point in arguing. I bought the map and proudly spread it across the dashboard and shot a stupid grin at Beth.

I decided on a 12 mile loop that would take us across two mountains on the first leg of the trail, Little Shuckstack and Shuckstack, and right by

Fontana

Lake for the last 5 miles which should offer some great swimming. 

To get to the trailhead you cross over

Fontana

Lake over the Fontana Dam.

We started the first leg of the hike, a 3.7 mile section that gained about 2000 feet in elevation and crossed over the two mountains. The trail was pretty broken in and marked well, and had a gradual elevation gain that never dipped back down. About 30 minutes in I was tired. I was sweating profusely and panting loud enough to scare some birds. It’s possible I wasn’t used to the higher elevation, or hadn’t trained enough, or used to the heat of the southern states but in any case, I was hurting. I remember turning a corner and seeing two Girl Scouts (maybe 11-12 years old) full packing it up the mountain hardly breaking a sweat; that was a very humbling experience.

            We crossed Little Shuckstack although we wouldn’t know it, there were no signs or indication that we were on top of anything. We continued to climb upwards and finally made it to the top of Shuckstack where we got a nice lecture on socks from some guy that was up there. There was also this 80 foot rickety tower you could climb to take in the views.

We had to climb it. The steps creaked with every movement and the rail was as wobbly as the steps. At the top there was a little shack built up but the windows were so dirty you couldn’t see anything. I heard from the sock guy that a bear was chasing this hiker and he had to spend the night up there once. On our way back down I tried to hang on to the rail and grab some pictures.

 

 

Which was difficult with the wind almost blowing me and the camera off the tower.

We headed back down, thanked the guy for his advice and continued our trek. We were both extremely hot and looking forward to taking a nice swim for a long while. Now, if you saw a trail that followed a lake and was named

Lake

Shore trail, you’d think there would be a spot to swim. You’d be wrong. The tail was about 150 feet higher than the lake with a rocky edge stopping us from climbing down. What’s worse than being exhausted, hot, and sweaty? Being exhausted, hot, sweaty, and looking at a beautiful crystal clear lake knowing there was no way down.

            In any case, the landscape was beautiful. The sun shone through cracks in the trees, and the forest was lined with such alien plants I felt like I slipped into some sort of dream. The trees were littered with birds all singing their tune meshing together to create this all natural orchestra that you couldn’t help but be moved by. When you hike for that long, you create this rhythm that just seems to fit with the environment. It’s no longer you trekking through the woods but almost a symbiotic relationship between yourself and surroundings. At least that’s what I get out of it.

            We made it back to the car roughly 5-6 hours after we had started and were relieved to be back and dying for something to drink. Beth wanted grape Gatorade, I wanted orange soda for some reason, I don’t even drink soda.

Beth wanted me to post a picture of her blister she sustained on the hike, which she seemed pretty proud of.

 

 

           

The Saturday before Beth and I started our adventure we headed over to my mother’s house for a mid-day barbeque. After a few hours we decided to get moving knowing we had a long drive ahead of us. On our way out my mother asked, “Hey do you guys want some of this meat?” Knowing we didn’t have any money or food, we said, “Sure.” We loaded up the rest of the hotdogs, sausages, and burgers into two separate zip-lock bags, this became known as bag o’ meat. This led to many random inquiries such as, “You thinking ‘bout bag o’ meat? Or “I wonder what bag o’ meat is doing.” Now my mother said,” You better eat this by Sunday, Monday at the very latest.” And it is sound advice, advice which I wish we followed.

            At our campsite on

Kerr Lake, we made this jambalaya and cut up pieces of hotdog and sausage to throw into the mix, all in all it was pretty good. But it made more than we could eat at one sitting. By Wednesday night we were running pretty low on food. We played several games of rummy and had a few beers in front of the campfire and Beth said, “We should probably eat that jambalaya, it’s gonna go bad.”

“Yeah, but I’m not really hungry at this point.”

“Yeah neither am I, but I’m not letting that go to waste.” Beth stated.

“Fine, fine, but heat it up first,” I said..

 

            Crouching over a low-light lantern and a small stove in front of the tent, we dumped the mix back into the pot noting the un-appetizing smell. After a few minutes we felt that was sufficient to kill off any bacteria that might have been festering in the rice. I wrapped some in a tortilla, took one bite and said, “Hell no!” and threw the rest of it into the fire.

“I don’t think that’s any good.” I told Beth

“Na, mine tastes ok, I’m not wasting it.”

 

That night Beth made frequent trips outside the tent apparently purging herself of the jambalaya. About every 10-15 minutes for 2 hours as I was trying to sleep.

 

I think we learned a valuable life lesson here. Meat while good, does go bad, and its better not to eat one meal then lose all the meals you’ve had that day. While bag o’ meat is no longer with us, it lives within our hearts and minds.

Beth and I decided to head south to get out of the New York State area believing the further south you go, the warmer the water which would give us plenty of opportunities to swim in warm southern lakes. We set out for the mountains of

North Carolina, The Great Smokey Mountains, as our destination. We drove continuously spotting a small lake in the south western corner of

Pennsylvania on the atlas, deciding this should be the camp site for the night.

Pennsylvania turned out to be a much larger state than expected and we didn’t end up getting to the lake until around 2 a.m. We kept turning down random roads feeling they should all eventually lead to the lake. They didn’t. We found ourselves in the back country of some unknown county with numerous “no trespassing” and “beware of dog, dog bites” signs. Frustrated and exhausted we turned down a dead end road setting up camp with gave us a great view of the freeway. It wasn’t until the next morning we realized we had been turning west down the random roads while the

Lake laid to the east.

After a sleep filled with rushing trucks and buzzing cars we decided to head back east and spend a day in our nation’s capital taking in the sites and visiting a few museums, feeling we should explore the capital before exploring the country. We did visit the Natural History museum which was surprisingly free. Now I’ve seen kids get excited about amusement parks and ice cream, but this kid in our group nearly fainted when he saw some fossils. For the next 20 minutes all that was heard throughout the museum was this kid screaming saying, “This is the best day of my life!!”, and running from exhibit to exhibit. He was the coolest kid I’ve ever met.

After leaving the Washington D.C. area we knew there was not enough time to reach the mountains that day and we tried to pick a decent lake in the area to camp for the night. We saw

Kerr

Lake in the atlas which is on the boarder of

Virginia and

North Carolina and the road travels right over the lake which would help in avoiding the blunder of the night before.

Off of the main road we found a dead end street which led down to the water. I did my, “Hey, let me check it out” routine and trekking through the woods looking for some level ground. I noticed this peninsula with trees surrounding the point and headed in that direction. It was perfect, water all around perfect shade, level, everything you could want in a site. I called for Beth to check it out, taking a 360 degree view of the area. Only then did I notice the house 200 yards to my right, and that I was standing in their front yard.

We backtracked and started to head in the opposite direction guiding ourselves around the bay to a soft sandy beach on the south side of the water. This was it, the spot we’ve been looking for. A semi-large tree offered some shade and privacy from the rest of the lake.

From here, the beach continued down the edge of the water for approximately 300 yards then ended abruptly at a cliff wall, sealing the beach to any local residents that have the local police on speed dial.  

 

The lake was crystal clear and at times warmer than the muggy air. Most boaters seemed to be fishing, and the fish seem to jump from the water continuously. I don’t fish so I’m not sure about the type of fish it was but the boaters seem to enjoy themselves and seemed like a fishing “hot spot” or something.

This is such a nice spot one night turned into two, which turned into three. With a campfire every night, guitar in one hand, and a beer in the other you couldn’t ask for a more relaxing couple days.  

 

The Rain Storm

Our first hiccup on the trip occurred on our third day at the campsite on Kerr Lake in North Carolina. We had just finished reading for an hour or two and needed to head into town for some dinner supplies (rice and beer).

Beth noticed some clouds rolling in and noted, “ Yeah, looks like it’s gonna rain.” I replied, “Yeah I guess, wait, which way do the clouds move here?” A shrug was the only response so we ignorantly headed into town.

The way our tent is set up is if the fly isn’t on the whole tent is open and exposed which is fantastic if you’re attempting to sleep under the stars but could be problematic if a rainstorm starts and you’re miles from the site.

As the clouds kept rolling in we were in a heated discussion whether or not it would be more cost effective to buy the $1.00 box of rice that takes 20 minutes to cook, or the $1.50 box of rice that takes 12 minutes to cook (our stove is fueled by white gas which it seems you can only find at outdoor sport retail shops). We decided on the $1.00 box.

As we were checking out the cashier commented on the storm that “was’a brewin” and I asked, “Oh is that headed this way?” To which she replied, “Uhhhhh yea. . . . “ The first sprinkle began as we jumped back into the car and sped out of the parking lot. Several miles down the road the rain was still light, “Hey at least it’s not a down pour” I said hopefully, and at that moment it decided it was. We raced down the road barely making out the road lines through the sheets and sheets of water that slammed into the windshield. Only nervous glances were exchanged between Beth and I knowing full well the guitar, laptop, camera, sleeping bags, food, stove, clothes and other items were becoming saturated with water.

We finally made it back to the dead end road and I sprung from the car making a mad dash for the tent. Sticks and weeds grazed and scratched my legs as I rounded the bay, the tent finally in site. I unzipped the front door to take stock of the damage inside, and froze. There were literally 5 inches of water throughout the bottom of the tent. I quickly put the fly on trying to find a solution to this mess. We had a limited number of towels and one was used to plug a hole in Beth’s car that started leaking during the drive back. The town was 10 miles back the other direction, most things were beginning to close and we really weren’t sure where anything was.

I told Beth the situation after slowly making my way back to the car with a defeated look on my face knowing fully it was my fault I didn’t put the fly on. We headed to the nearest gas station hoping they had towels, they didn’t. But they did have paper towels. They must have been double quilted or something because those things worked wonders, not only did they sop up the large puddles but even the dampness on the tent itself. The guitar (thank god) didn’t warp, and all the electronics were placed within something, out of harms way. We took the bags and clothes to a laundry mat back into town, and within 2 hours, the quasi crisis was everted and we were sleeping soundly on a semi-comfortable, semi-dry beach.

 

Directions: Take I-81 to

Binghamton, New York. Follow the signs to

Binghamton

University. Upon entering the campus take your first right off the circle. Take your 4^th right and follow this road to two large parking lots on your left hand side. Across the road you’ll find the entrance to the trail.

Difficulty: Easy

Length: 1.5 miles roundtrip

The Binghamton Nature preserve is a section of campus designated specifically for students and locals to escape the chaos of the city and find refuge among the numerous trails minutes from anywhere in town. Beth and I traveled down to this trail on June 11 after heading south from the Salmon River

Falls. The trail is well marked and well groomed, more of a leisurely stroll than a rigorous hike. But this stroll can offer great views if you know which trails to take.

 

The original trail which you enter in from the road will take you across a wooden bridge over the nature preserves pond. This body of water is large relative to the size of the park but too stagnant and shallow for swimming. In the winter however, the water freezes over and you’re able to walk right across it. Beth and I decided we wanted to go to the field trail which gives you a beautiful overlook of Vestal, the town which the campus is situated in.

 

After crossing the bridge the trail splits right and left, we took the right trail and followed the single board plank trail into the forest. After 50 yards the trail split again, right and left, again we followed the right trail which is the blue trail. The blue trail follows along the north side of the pond which we were able to follow through the trees. After crossing a series of boards laid over the mud and small puddles we took a left onto the yellow trail. At this point the trail finally starts to pick up in elevation gain although only a couple hundred feet, we started to feel it towards the top. On the right hand side of this trail we saw the “rock spot”. In between to small streams is a peninsula with five trees in a circle at the very end of the point. Between these tress large rocks were placed together to create rock chairs. A great place to rest, or just stare off into the dense forest.

 

At the top of this trail we took a right onto the field trail. This took us out of the forest and into the grassy field on the top of the hill. One-half mile onto the trail we noticed large rocks placed in the middle of the trail which was a great place to stop and take in the sites of Vestal as well as the surrounding hills.

 

This area is especially beautiful during autumn were you’re able to view the foliage for miles and miles around.

Starting on June 10, 2007 my girlfriend, Beth, and I decided to take a two month road trip to explore this vast country in which we live. We hope to discover hiking trails, lakes, campsites, and other natural beauties which these lands have to offer. Without a set destination nor large bank account, this trip is the freedom of the road while living as cheaply as possible. I’d hope to create somewhat of a guide to free campsites, great hiking trails, and amazing crystal clear lakes to inspire others to do the same creating a handbook road trippers can use without sub coming to the pressure of commercial camping.

Salmon River Falls, Pulaski, New York

Directions: Take I-81 North to Pulaski, take a Right off the exit and a Left onto Route 26. Follow Route 26 to Falls Rd. and take a right. Follow Falls Rd. for 3miles until a trailhead and parking lot appears on your right.

Hike: very easy

Length: ¼ mile

We originally set forth from Syracuse, New York, my hometown and decided to head north to the small town of Pulaski about 40 miles north of Syracuse. While I was growing up I made frequent trips to Pulaski to swim in the Salmon River Reservoir and marvel at the 110 foot waterfalls lying to the north of the Reservoir. We decided this would be an excellent spot to begin our journey. The brief trail begins off of Falls Rd. where a parking area lies to the right side of the road. A trail head marks the parking lot which is level with the top of the falls.

The area is now all fenced off to the trail, but several years ago you were able to walk directly to the top of the falls and rock jump to the other side. When Beth and I went on June 10 we found an area of the fence which you could just walk around, I’m not sure if it was legal but it worked and we were able to stick our feet in the rushing stream just before the water fell over the edge.

There is also another trail which leads down from the original one into the pool which the falls enter into. This trail drops the 100 vertical feet is less than ¼ mile and is lined with rocks for steps. Swimming might be prohibited but I’ve never been kicked out. The pool is deep for its size and is roughly 100 yards by 100 yards. It then empties into a stream which flows down to the lower reservoir. The water is extremely clean and usually brisk and very refreshing on a hot summer day.

Campsite

That night, Beth and I, traveled further down Falls Rd. until the gravel turned to loose stone and found ourselves at a boat launch area on the Upper Reservoir. We parked at the parking lot and hiked down to the water. We noticed a trail to the north and found a quiet beach area within feet off the water. We were able to start a campfire using dried driftwood which was plentiful. Dusk turned to night and we fell asleep to the sounds of waves against the sand and crickets chirping in the distance.