The Dramatic Virgin River Gorge

One of the more interesting stretches of main travel corridors in North America is Interstate 15.  I-15 starts its north-south journey at the United States-Canada border in Montana, where it follows the base of the Rockies before heading south into the mountains.  Eventually, it passes through the Great Basin alongside the Wasatch Range of Utah and through the Mormon-founded cities of Salt Lake, Provo, Cedar City, and St. George, at which point it descends into the Mojave Desert.  For the most part, I-15, like many other limited access highways, was engineered to provide for a relatively level driving experience that would eliminate both the speed-reductions inherent in climbing elevations by switchbacks and grades over 5% and also the engineering costs associated with such road design.  For the traveler seeking a much more dramatic and scenic route, the Federal highways and local roads are definitely the way to go.  This is not to say that the scenery is by any means boring.  As noted, I-15 passes through a complete column of North American landscapes, from grasslands to mountains to deserts and finally into the unique landscapes of southern California between Victorville, California and San Diego.  What it does mean is that the experience is a bit more manicured and serene rather than totally wild.

There are exceptions, of course.  Despite the best intentions of planners and engineers, the rugged western North American landscape eventually puts up a challenge even to modern convenience.  On such place is a short trip of less than 30 miles in extreme northwestern Arizona.  Separating the small portion of the Mojave that surrounds St. George, Utah is an abrupt rise of elevation on nearly all sides.  A few small tributaries of the Colorado River, and a larger one, the Virgin River, manage to cut through the western mountains of these surrounding peaks, often quite dramatically.  The canyons these water courses create form the only real passes into the rest of the Mojave beyond, and the builders of I-15 had no choice but the follow the impressive cut that the Virgin had made, at least without blasting and tunneling through a lot of land.  Even then, the work was expensive, and the drive would end up being nothing short of spectacular.  

At a few points the sky disappears and one is surrounded by huge walls of rock, which owing to its Mojave location, are quite devoid of much in the way of vegetation other than sagebrush, creosote, various cacti, and Joshua trees.  While the descent into St. George from the Great Basin to the north is the true entrance to the Mojave for I-15, this would be the first look inside the door into a grand entrance hall down a spiral staircase.  The best part is, such a view through I-15 is only scratching the surface, as the second and higher floors above the canyon walls rise further into truly lovely lands of a marriage between desert and forests.  I have only caught glimpses of this elevated world from the majesty below, but I was fortunate enough to come across a fellow blogger who knows the area quite well.  His post can be found here.

Anyway, with as dramatic a drive as this is, one imagines it would keep unfolding into far more dramatic territory than the edge of the comparatively mundane Great Basin that the driver has left behind to the north.  Well, it turns out that the Mojave shares the topographical characteristics of its cooler northern neighbor, which features large basins among high ranges.  Not a mile after exiting the canyon, one comes across deceptively flat expanses of desert.  I say deception is in order, because towering peaks loom once again around the flats for pretty much the rest of the trip through the desert.  Nevertheless, it is quite a contrast!

 The wild nature of the landscape also gets tamed at this point, and as one crosses the state line into Nevada, the seemingly ordinary town of Mesquite is encountered, complete with multi-lane roads and strip malls.  This being Nevada, they also have casinos and other unique diversions.  Americana, it seems, is never far away from an interstate highway, even deep in the wild west.

What a Car Can Do

The vast expanses of land on the North American continent have long served as both a hindrance and an inspiration to the cause of both domestic and global transportation efforts.   Our wonderful mass of dry land has prompted explorers to find quicker routes from sea to sea so that the markets and peoples of the Atlantic and Pacific basins could more easily interact with one another.  The end result was that transportation corridor quality and methods were greatly improved here, and the nations of North America were able to maintain their sheer sizes through a really efficient combination of a vast network of rails, roads, and an industrial base that was concerned with making service economically feasible for its customers.

Until the middle of the twentieth century, the United States and Canada had the most developed and efficient system of passenger trains in the world, at which point this system began to be eclipsed by the rise of the limited-access freeway network and the automobile.  These days, people like to decry that this is the case, citing the environmental damage caused by cars and the destruction of inner cities that have resulted from a sequestering of wealth and development in suburbs.  Yes, the automobile has had negative impacts on society and the environment, but also has done wonderful things for connecting diverse communities and promoting travel with which the natural world might be better appreciated.  While trains are wonderful ways to provide for mass transit between cities and towns, and can make a horrid commute on a crowded expressway just go away and never come back, a car can get a disabled person onto a mountain ridge!  Trains offer a relaxing way to see the continent, but with a broad-side view.  Cars offer a more hands-on way to see the continent, but with a front and side view.  A train can send someone from Mexico City to encounter a city like Dallas or Los Angeles on the other end, but a car can let a Mexican experience the everyday world of all sorts of Americans in or out of the big cities.

The inspiration for this post: A Mexico City license plate taken in the parking lot of an Albuquerque, NM hotel.

Heck, a car can take a Mexican to the Northwest Territories, or a Canadian all the way to the Yucatan.  One can drive anywhere from the interior of Alaska clear to Key West, or from northern Quebec all the way to Acapulco.  The best part is, one can see the landscape change bit by bit the whole way along, and come to see how a beach covered in palms is distantly connected to a soggy patch of tundra.  This is very hard to do in much of the rest of the world, because not even Asia, which provides as much continuous landmass from north to south as our continent does, has a complete network of passable roads, to say nothing about the lack of gasoline availability, or the travel limitations posed by the international political situations there.

So, while I am certainly not an advocate of "windshield tourism", seeing the continent by car is nothing to be embarrassed about either.  A car is often the best and only way to reach a trail head, from which so many other wonderful options exist at for exploration at that point.  Everyone who lives in North America, and is able to make such a journey, should definitely make their way across the land from ocean to ocean, or gulf to northern ocean, at least once in a lifetime.  The experience will be unforgettable, and it will open so many new and exciting horizons in the imagination and world-view.

Practically speaking, a simple trip of just driving for 8-10 hours a day, and sleeping at night, from "end to end" will take:

New York to Los Angeles: 4 days.
Montreal to Miami: 2.5 days.
Seattle to Mexico City: 3.5 days.

Most of the larger western states can be traversed in about 6-8 hours, though Texas and California can take as long as 12, depending on the cross section.  Most Mexican states are comparable in size to the eastern seaboard states.  Canadian provinces are huge, and a full transit of Ontario and Quebec can take over a day of travel time.

Mexico, the inter-mountain west, and northern Canada can take longer to traverse, owing to road conditions and topographical elements.

Of course, this is only if you are being silly and not stopping to enjoy anything.

Other things to keep in mind:

Even your amazing sports car will not perform at peak efficiency above 9,000 feet or so.  Mountains can be fun to drive in, but the grades can sometimes be as high as 16% on backroads, and 7% on limited-access freeways.  One of the most dramatic stretches of freeway in North America in this regard is westbound I-70 between the continental divide and Veil, Colorado.

This looks like it was taken by its maker in August or so, which is a relatively placid period in the Rockies.  I have driven this in the middle of an intense winter storm with 18-wheelers bearing down behind me.  No other conditions can come even close to mountain conditions, with the possible exceptions of lake effect snow storms.

While the desert is not as dangerous to travel across as it used to be, it is best not to zoom across it.  Air-conditioning, while very helpful, does take a bit of resources from an engine, and is best shut off while making a climb on a desert mountain.  States such as California and Arizona have signs that advise this.  Sand storms can often completely cut off visibility, which usually requires pulling as far safely off the road as one can go, to wait it out.  Also, tumbleweed is dangerous, despite its brittle and small appearance.  Large snags of it can actually cause car fires and damage houses!  Avoid when possible!

Many roads in the far north tend to be ice, rather than ground, in the winter.  This is both beneficial and dangerous.  The far north also has wonderful things like Moose and Caribou.  These and cars do not mix well in direct collisions.  Moose can be encountered in eastern North America roughly from the 45th parallel and northwards, except in the lower peninsula of Michigan.

Nearly all of North America, including most of Mexico, is motorist friendly.  Problem areas include the U.S.-Mexico border region and some of the larger cities in both the U.S. and Mexico, which can be as disorienting as they are dangerous to non-locals.  I myself have driven in the more colorful parts of Detroit, Chicago, Washington, D.C., Los Angeles, and Mexico City without incident, but I also knew what I was heading into, was passing through, and was not there to see the sights.  I have only experienced the border region from the American side, and it was incredibly secure.  While the Mexican side is much less of a picnic, the media does tend to focus on the worst of the worst when it comes to Mexico.  A good place to look for more information: this blog.

Gasoline availability is somewhat limited in the more remote parts of the continent, and can often be quite expensive when it is encountered.  For the most part, Mexico offers the cheapest gas, followed by the central United States west of the Mississippi river.  In my experience, the cheapest gas is in Iowa, followed by Kansas, which <cough> happen to be located the furthest from most major pipelines carrying either domestic or exported petroleum products!  Except in unusual circumstances, California has the most ridiculous prices for gas out of anywhere.  Canada used to be a bit problematic, especially in the face of a stronger Canadian dollar not being represented fairly by retail prices set to some imaginary economy that pretends that 2012 is 1997.  This has changed much in the past two years, however.

Driving in New York City is not for the timid.  Driving in Los Angeles is not for the impatient.  Other than these two hot spots, a driver will encounter far less traffic in most of Canada, the western United States, and northwestern Mexico than they will anywhere else.  Cities will always feature more traffic than rural areas.  On average, the busiest freeway is the 401 passing through Toronto, but owing to an efficient transit system in the city, it will seem to be far less of a headache than driving in many other cities.

Myths, as well as fun things (and posts) to look forward to:

After being inland for so long, especially having crossed deserts, the ocean is a brilliant sight to behold!  The Great Lakes can produce a similar effect, minus the salty smell and taste of the air.  They do, however, still smell good.

The Great Plains are not at all as boring as people make them out to be.  Most major roads follow river valleys and pass by picturesque bluffs and other natural markers.  Even where the road tends to stick to the stereotype of a straight run in the middle of nothing but miles and miles of miles and miles, the grand scale of the sky and the austere expanses of grass can be as breathtaking as any voyage into the mountains or by the ocean.

There are few drives more incredible than approaching the Rockies from the Great Plains.  They can often be seen as far as 100 miles away, disappearing and then reappearing larger and larger as one goes up and down the rolling hills of the shortgrass prairies.

Mountains and sharp changes in elevation often produce transitions between ecosystems that would normally be over hundreds of miles apart in a mere mile or two.  This is especially true on the edges of the Mojave and Sonoran deserts, as well as the coastal areas of California.  In Mexico, one can travel this way, botanically, from near-taiga to the tropics, in the space of a few minutes in a car.  Outside of the mountains, a lack of the effects of vertical relief usually means that transitions happen slower, though two notable exceptions exist in the relative distance one is from the Pacific Ocean in southern California, and the sudden changes that come from crossing onto the Canadian Shield.

Driving into the heart of a major city can be confusing and intimidating, but also spectacular.

Even if you don't pay attention to the changes in vegetation and landscape, the first spruce, pine, palm, cactus, outcrop, water feature, or significant change in elevation should grab your attention.  On the way back, you might even notice the "last" of them as well.

An overcast and/or rainy day is not necessarily cause for sorrow.  Rain, mist, and even snow can add a whole new dimension to some landscapes.  The same holds true for the cycle of the day itself; dawn and dusk can make heading into the unknown even more incredible.

Take a drive!

Utah Highway 12

Scattered across the United States are roads recognized by the United States Department of Transportation as offering unique archaeological, cultural, historic, natural, recreational, and/or scenic features known as "National Scenic Byways".  While I maintain that the best way to experience the continent is on foot, these drives are certainly a decent way to get off of the beaten path and sample what lies away from the interstates.  In the case of Utah 12, one can experience most of the west has to offer in general, from deserts to forests to mountain meadows.  Many people start at the western terminus of the road at US 89, though in my opinion the best starting place is at the other end in Torrey, for reasons that will become obvious.

First of all, where is it?

Utah 12 may seem to be off the beaten path, but it is surrounded by a handful of national parks, monuments, forests, and includes a few smaller towns with services along its length.   Drivers can expect to see at least a few cars and pedestrians along the way, though there will be many places that are absolutely deserted and incredibly wild looking, despite the popularity.

Starting from Torrey, the landscape is fairly even, dry, and low.  The surrounding environment is very typical scenery of the neighboring Great Basin desert, despite being located on the Colorado Plateau and within the Colorado river watershed.  The relative height of the land (4,000 feet and higher) and residual precipitation and moisture from the nearby Wasatch mountains give it a noticeable contrast from the rest of the lower portions of the Colorado Plateau and Escalante desert.  This is a land of sagebrush and juniper shrubs.

The junipers increase in size and are joined by pinyons with the passing miles, until they become more tree-sized.  See here for a more detailed description of the Pinyon-Juniper woodland.  Eventually, these trees are overtaken by Ponderosa pines and the odd Lodgepole pine.

The views start to become more dramatic here, and pull outs are available for those who wish to gaze across the lower lands to the distant Henry mountains.  There were trails leading every which way up there, and the area seemed pretty sparsely occupied.  Here, as well as portions further down the road, are sections of Dixie National Forest, which is broken into four divisions that stretch across much of the southwestern quarter of Utah.

The pines begin to give way to spruces and aspens, which serve as indicators that the road is nearing its highest point.  The forests here were somewhat unexpected; the southern Wasatch seem so much lower and isolated from the rest of the Rockies that it can be easy to forget such "sky islands" exist.  They do, however, and the experience of driving from desert to sub-alpine forest is like taking a trip clear north to northern Alberta and Saskatchewan, where the forests are remarkably similar (though the Engelmann spruces and Subalpine fir are replaced by White spruce and Balsam fir, which look close enough like them).  If there were no grand views or interesting curves, Utah 12 could be a great drive just for being a sample of entire ecosystems.  

At the highest points of the road, elevations level off at 9,600 feet, and the exposure the land receives creates balds and meadows, over which distant horizons of contrasting desert can be seen.

In many obvious places along the way, a traveler can see first hand the root colonization reproduction habits of Quaking aspen.

Aspen are truly remarkable trees that can reproduce by root clones.  The Pando tree/colony of aspens not far north of this area are said to be close to 80,000 years in age, which, if true, means that the groves would have migrated with the glaciers during the last ice age.  The tree/colony is located in Fishlake National Forest, and unlike Methuselah, the oldest known individual tree, is not kept secret in location.  This is probably because Pando is simply too expansive to be easily violated; the trees in the picture above could very well be part of a branching of the clones tens of thousands of years ago, despite being over a hundred miles away and on a separate mountain body.  

The great thing about Utah 12 is that no one driving it, even avid followers of things tree, will likely even give a passing thought to how amazing aspen are, because these trees are but part of a huge buffet of wonders that have already opened up along the way.  Case in point, the road suddenly gets straight and becomes set on a gentle gradient that drops like a very long ramp.

Forests pass by, transitions from biome to biome can be easily seen, and the desert returns.  This time, however, it is very different from what was left behind to the north.

The road also becomes quite the adventure, with thousands of feet of nothing but air serving as the "shoulder".  The experience was so breathtaking that I did not think to take a picture at the most dramatic point, though this would probably do:

Why yes, that sign does indicate a 14% grade.  At this point, Utah 12 is literally paved on the spines of mountains.  "Watch your step" takes on a whole new meaning, and even if the heights were not enough, careless feet can run into other fun little surprises.

Mindful of cacti, cliffs, and careless footing, one can now rejoice knowing that things are only going to get more incredible from here on out.  The road now passes through Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, one of the nicest surprises in protected lands.  The breadth of land really is a staircase, if perhaps tilted on its side.  Starting from the top, one passes through age upon age of geological history that ends at the bottom of the Grand Canyon in Pre-Cambrian granite, a younger version of the rock that makes up the Canadian Shield.  Again, the miracle of that plays second fiddle to the views alone.

Travelers need not be kept in the dark, however, as one of the best visitor centers anywhere sits conveniently off the road in the town of Escalante, Utah.  The place had the most informed staff I have ever encountered from a government office, and were truly passionate about their land.  In the interest of education, the store there is subsidized by the Western National Parks Association, and nearly everything was at cost if not lower in price.

Now, if by some chance the desert would start to get monotonous, green fields and lush riverbanks pop up between here and Tropic, Utah.  As one approaches Bryce Canyon National Park, the forests re-appear, though not beyond the altitude of the pines.  Of course, they would probably not be on the mind either:

Bryce is a destination in an of itself (as if the rest of these mileposts were not), so that picture will suffice for now until a better post can cover the place.  Anyway, moving on from there, the land opens up into lovely prairie of green, rich grass that is dominated by Utah prairie dog colonies.  The poor creatures have not fared well, and despite being an endangered species, are considered more of a nuisance by local farmers.  Yes, there are farms around here, mainly down in the warmer desert elevations.  You know, where there is no reliable water source?  Ranches are understandable, but farms?

As the prairies and meadows are closed in by encroaching cliffs, one heads down into the final leg of the highway, known simply as Red Rock canyon.

The pines stand lovely against the red cliffs.  There are several rock tunnels one drives through to complete the tour of Utah 12.  Mind you, the roads beyond are no less exciting from here on out; US 89 continues south to the town of Orderville, Utah. On the way, despite the lower elevations, the land is lush, green, and heavily forested.  Mind the dirty windows!

At Orderville, US 89 branches off south to Arizona and a slew of destinations like the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, or west to the eastern approach of Zion canyon.

This approach leads down to the Mojave desert, which is bounded on neatly all sides by incredible transitions.  Zion in the afternoon, though, has to be the most amazing way to enter the land of the Joshua tree.  The road leading into Zion is no less amazing.  Elements of the Ponderosa pine forest, Escalante desert, and Mojave desert co-exist in a delightful combination of pine, sand, yuccas, shrubs, and boulders.  That particular leg of this great adventure, however, will wait for a more detailed post.