Yellowstone National Park

In Yellowstone National Park, the earth truly does appear alive.

Spanning nearly 9,000 square kilometres of forest, lakes, canyons and grassland, the park is home to hundreds of wildlife species and half of the world's geothermal features.

The park features eleven villages, each located for proximity to certain attractions. We camp near Canyon Village, which boasts an impressive new visitor centre, well-stocked shops, clean, modern toilets, and untimed hot showers.

Canyon's primary highlight is the 'Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone', which is on average 304 metres deep, 838 metres wide and spans 32 kilometres along the Yellowstone River.

We view the canyon from the Upper and Lower Falls trails, from which we also witness the river gush towards the respective 33 metre and 94 metre drops.


When we've explored enough of the Canyon area, we head to Old Faithful Village to see the geyser for which it is named.

Because Yellowstone National Park is centred on North America's largest supervolcano, it features numerous sulfurous hot springs and 300 active geysers, of which Old Faithful is best known. The geyser erupts once every 90 minutes or so, shooting up to 32,000 litres of boiling water 50 metres into the air.


We also visit Mammoth Village briefly, to admire the colourful Mammoth Hot Springs. I find the Palette Spring particularly beautiful, with shades of brown, orange, red and green created by algae living in the water.

We spend an unseasonably cold three nights in Yellowstone, during which time we spot elk, deer, gazelle, and mountain goats. We also come across one very lazy yellow-bellied marmot along the Lower Falls trail, and a young grizzly bear about 30 meters from the road between Canyon and Old Faithful.

As we head East to exit the park on Monday morning, I complain about not having seen any bison. Not five minutes later, we turn a corner to see entire herds of bison grazing on the grassland. The one-tonne beasts are spectacular.

Forks: no garlic necessary

At first glance, the little town of Forks seems awash with cheesy reminders of the currently popular teen book/movie series in which it features.

"Edward Cullen did NOT sleep here", one motel boasts. Others cling proudly to the town's status as the 'home of Twilight', hawking themed pins, stickers, chocolates, and posters of sun-starved adolescents looking a little too serious about nothing at all.


Thanks to a bustling tourism drive, fiction worms its way deeper into reality than I'd like. At meals, I can't help but overhear teenaged sisters arguing over whom a vampire or werewolf would love more, while their parents enquire about 'Twilight Tours' that claim to guide visitors to locations mentioned in the series.

When Jim and I arrive in Forks on Sunday evening, we are relieved to find at least one motel that retains some small town charm and integrity. We find the sky-blue Bagby's Town Motel very pleasant for the price, and its proprietors, efficient and polite.

We stay only one night at the motel, and spend the next three at the nearby Kalaloch Campgrounds. Owing to a beachfront location in the beautiful Olympic National Park, Kalaloch campsites are in high demand. We make plans to spend at least one day reading on the beach; however, these fail to materialise due to a bank mix-up that requires us to make several hour-long drives to the city of Port Angeles.


Nonetheless, our visit to the Olympic Peninsula is an idyllic retreat from the hustle and bustle of cities. The canopy of trees and constant cloud cover provide ample shade during the summer days and keep temperatures pleasantly cool for nights in a tent.

On our last afternoon in area, we take an impromptu hour-long hike through the beautiful rainforest to a beach near the Quileute town of La Push. Sydney -- home -- is across that expanse of water. Yet, as I watch the waters of the Pacific lap gently against the shore, I feel peace and calm as I never have before.

Surely home can wait for a little while yet.

Hello, Summer

On the afternoon of July 24, we leave San Francisco's cloud cover and are plunged instantly into the heat of Summer.

Our first few moments in the Sun are glorious; we happily shed fleece jackets while we drive southward on the US-101.

But it's not long before things start getting too warm. To make matters worse, our car's air-conditioning system seems to be malfunctioning, so it only circulates air at ambient temperature.


It is about 3pm by the time we reach our destination, the Pinnacles National Monument campgrounds. The area is hot and dry, and shade is scarce.

In fact, our allotted campsite is in direct sunlight, with not even an overhanging leaf to save us from the Sun's glare. Fortunately, the Pinnacles seems to be one of the few Government-managed campgrounds that isn't fully booked for the weekend, so we are able to transfer to a leafier area.

Compared to other U.S. recreational camping areas, those at the Pinnacles are unimpressive. Its best feature by far is a small, cool, free-to-use swimming pool which we routinely visit every morning of our three-night stay.

By Monday, we are more than ready to leave sunny California. Heading northward in our uncomfortably warm car, we cross our fingers in hopes of cooler days in Oregon.

Psychedelic volcanic ash

Under the summer sun, our northward drive from Bakersfield to the Lassen Volcanic National Park is almost unbearably warm. However, when we arrive at the park, which is located near on the Californian side of the California-Oregon border, we see snow.


It's just after 6pm when we enter the park, so the grocery store and ranger stations have already closed for the day. Compared to the Grand Canyon National Park, Lassen is eerily desolate.

It's also cold -- frighteningly so. I hurriedly pull a jacket over my singlet top, as we leave the car to investigate the Manzanita Lake campgrounds.

The few occupied campsites are already gushing smoke, and we soon realise that without an open grocery store from which to buy firewood, camping may not be the best idea.

So we rent a $60, bare-bones cabin in the nearby town of Shingletown for the night. The cabin lacks bedside tables, lamps, curtains, clean bedding, and its own bathroom, but we bring in our own quilt from the car and sleep the sleep of the dead.

In the light of day, Lassen is far less formidable. We encounter a deer on its afternoon stroll as we make our way to the campgrounds, as well as a very brave, inquisitive squirrel under whose watchful eye Jim chats to the elderly campgrounds host about hiking, National Park attractions, Australia, the downfalls of the military...


At the host's recommendation, we hike up the nearby Cinder Cone volcano the next day. The cone rises some 230 metres above the surrounding area, which is covered in a mixture of grey ash and colourful sediments from a 1650s eruption.

We also visit Bathtub Lake but find it far less appealing than its name suggests, due to the cold and an infestation of mosquitos. Dinner is cheese and salami sandwiches and toasted marshmallows, as it was the night before.

On June 17th, we reluctantly leave the (relative) wilderness for the city of San Francisco. And a fitting greeting we receive, with heavy traffic all along our last 25 kilometre stretch from Richmond to San Francisco, and absolutely no street parking within four blocks of our new home!

Car trouble

Saturday, June 13 doesn't quite go as planned.

First, our tent set-up proves itself a little too comfortable. We sleep in, barely making the 11am check-out time.


We have our hearts set on hot showers before the day's long drive to Bakersfield, California. Sadly, we arrive at the shower blocks just minutes after it is shut for cleaning, and spend the next hour at the cafeteria while we wait for the showers to be available.

Hot showers are fantastic.

We finally leave the national park just after 1pm. An hour into the drive, a light flashes on our dashboard. The engine is way too hot. We're only two miles from Williams, and don't know what to do.

We decide to keep going, and make it to a gas station/mechanics called Malone's, just outside Williams. A man named Randy tells us that our radiator needs to be replaced, and we may have also ruined our engine by driving with a messed up radiator.

Randy orders the requisite part from the nearby city of Flagstaff. It will take three hours for our car to be fixed, so he has his colleague drop us off at the Williams town centre.


Williams is a tiny town whose economy seems to be largely driven by Grand Canyon tourism. We burn some time at a restaurant, and visit the visitor centre, where we mess around with some puzzles and Jim quizzes me on U.S. geography.

The mechanics finally call at 5pm, saying our car is ready to go. We're lucky to not have caused any engine damage, they tell us gruffly, and I feel just a little silly for my lack of automotive knowledge.

Despite my worries about late night driving, Jim cowboys up and decides to drive straight to Bakersfield. We arrive at our motel at 2am, exhausted, but a little too pepped up on caffeine.

Camping in the Grand Canyon National Park

At 10.30am on Wednesday, we leave the Las Vegas strip.

Following directions from Google Maps on our iPhone, we head East on the I-515 toward the Arizona border.

The first hour and a half of our drive is pleasant and uneventful. The road takes us out of the city and into the flat, lonely desert. We contemplate stopping for morning tea, but decide against the few small, run down diners that we encounter.

We reach the Hoover Dam at about noon. The Hoover Dam is a hydroelectric generating station on the Nevada-Arizona boarder that was constructed in the 1930s. Located on the Colorado River, the dam creates a 35-cubic-kilometre reservoir known as Lake Mead, which provides water to communities in Southern California and Nevada.

After having spent so many months inland, the sight of Lake Mead’s sparkling waters is breathtaking.


Thanks to security checkpoints and photo-happy tourists, there is somewhat of a traffic build-up as we cross the Hoover Dam. Fortunately, we can access the Internet via 3G so Jim is able to meet his 1pm appointment while we wait.

Traffic subsides and the road opens up once we cross the state border. We make an afternoon food stop at Kingman, and take the I-40 from there to Williams, where we spend the night.

We travel against a gradually transforming backdrop that shifts from a yellow, shrubby desert to a lush shade of green. Trees line our hour-long drive to the Grand Canyon National Park the next morning.

Arriving at noon, we set up camp in the Mather Campgrounds immediately. The campgrounds are well laid out, with each campsite providing a picnic table, firepit, carspace, and ample space for a tent.


I have never really enjoyed camping, thanks to my few experiences with too many insects, too much walking, cold (or no) showers and the foulest of foul drop toilets.

Camping in the Grand Canyon National Park is a different story altogether.

Within 100 metres of our campsite there is a ‘comfort station’ (toilet block) with clean, modern facilities. Further away, there is a shower block with laundry facilities, coin-operated hot showers complete with hairdryers. A nearby general store sells all sorts of groceries, camping equipment and firewood, while a reasonably priced cafeteria makes cooking largely unnecessary.

Our two-night stay is superbly enjoyable. We dine once with canyon views at the upmarket El Torvar, and stroll briefly along the south rim on the Bright Angel Trail. Otherwise, most of our time is spent reading, playing cards and animal-spotting at the campgrounds, perusing the store and eating at the café.

There seems to be a great fuss made about the Grand Canyon, which is, according to Theodore Roosevelt, ‘the one great sight which every American should see’.

Really, it’s a giant hole in the ground. Cool, aesthetically pleasing, yes -- but hardly a spiritual experience.