It’s just the other side of a massive hole in the ground, but the North Rim of Grand Canyon National Park might as well be the other side of the planet from the more-visited South Rim. Fewer visitors mean you never have to wait in traffic or transfer to a people-moving bus or elbow your way to a rim view. And the canyon—which shows itself so freely from the South Rim—is largely hidden from the North Rim except to those who are willing to walk and/or drive a bit to a vantage point, which makes the canyon feel as mysterious, elusive and awesome as it is.

An additional 1,400 feet in elevation above the South Rim also means cooler temperatures and different flora, including Aspens. The North Rim even has its own squirrel that’s not found on the other side of the canyon. The Kaibab Squirrel sports a distinctive charcoal colored body and a silver tail which makes it look like two different squirrels got their halves mixed up. Though the Kaibab Squirrel can literally see the South Rim from most of its terrain, it appears to have decided that the hike down into the canyon then back up to the other side is just too much effort—and you can forget about the 220 mile road route between the two rims of the park—so the squirrel remains local.

Sunset over Bright Angel Canyon with the Grand Canyon in the distance.

Despite our late fall arrival, we find the lone North Rim campground is still open for business—though without water services which reduces the nightly rate to just $12, down from the normal $17 rate. Even the coveted rim-front sites, which normally go for a jacked-up $25 a night, are available for just $12 and we happily snag site #14 which rubs right up against the lip of a dramatic side canyon.

As we’re filling out our site registration form Bob, the campground host, comes by on his bicycle and asks if he can take a picture of our Safari SE. We’re used to this kind of Airstreamania by now and we’re happy to oblige. Then Bob, who camps in a 1970s Argosy, explains that he’s taken Airstreamania to a new level, documenting all of the Airstreams that have spent the night in his campground since he started hosting back in May.

Bob tells us that 10 Airstreams have been in the campground so far on his watch, ranging from a 1963 which the owners had dubbed The Frog (rivet, rivet—get it?) to a bunch of 2008s like ours and he’s diligently logged most of them with photos and details about length, model and owners.

Light streaking through Angels Window which we later walke over via a narrow trail.

Now, we’ve hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and back from the South Rim during an earlier visit to the park, so we know full well that it’s a serious walk. Unlike the Kaibab Squirrel, however, we are so enchanted by the canyon that we decide we have to do it from the North Rim as well. But we don’t begin to seriously plan a canyon hike until after we miraculously get dorm room reservations at Phantom Ranch, the historic lodge down at the bottom of the canyon—something akin to winning the lottery.

That’s when we head to the park’s backcountry permit office where Dave sets us up with camping permits for Cottonwood Campground, mid way between Phantom Ranch and the North Rim and with permits and reservations in hand the only thing left is the walking. And more walking.

At Coconino Overlook, near the beginning of the North Kaibab trail, on our way down into the Grand Canyon. It's still a long way down to Roaring Springs Canyon then Bright Angel Canyon and finally the Colorado River some 5,600 feet below us.

As compared to the hike from the South Rim, the North Rim route to the bottom of the canyon and back is steeper (descending and ascending 5,600 feet vs. 4,400 feet to and from the South Rim) and longer (28 miles round trip to Phantom Ranch and back, vs. 17 round trip from the South Rim). But we’re not complaining. The walk is gorgeous from the first steps as the North Kaibab Trail drops and winds steeply through the rim forest then through the distinct rock layers of the canyon.

Karen heads down the trail just below the Supai Tunnel.

We hike, virtually alone, until we reach Cottonwood Campground with a handful of clean, flat sites near a stream—which is a good thing since the piped in water all along the North Rim trails has just been turned off for the season to avoid freezing pipes. We relax on the bank of the stream in the last of the evening sun and use our SteriPEN to purify enough water to re-fill our Camelbak backpack bladders and get us through the night before scarfing down a delicious (seriously) freeze-dried Mountain House meal and climbing into our sleeping bags.

Karen in The Box, a dramatic narrow, high-walled canyon on the lower section of the North Kaibab trail.

The next day’s walk down to Phantom Ranch is even more breathtaking, mainly because it’s so varied. Gone are the layers upon layers of rock that we descended through the previous day, replaced with surprisingly wet and green stretches along the canyon bottom. Then we reach a section called The Box—4 miles through an increasingly narrow and high-walled canyon crossing and re-crossing the stream. The water thunders off the rock walls and the trail gentles-out to a leisurely stroll almost inperceptably downhill. We could walk like this all day!

Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

And then we’re at Phantom Ranch which appears very much like the oasis it is. Trees, grass, clear water, nearly-tame deer plus a warm bed in the dorm and a hot shower followed by a hot meal in the ranch’s dining hall where the truly delicious beef stew dinner with fresh, crispy salad, fresh-baked cornbread and chocolate cake fuels us up for the hard part—tomorrow’s return hike back UP the way we just came down.

After dinner we sit in on a ranger talk in the dark outdoor amphitheater near the canteen. As the ranger is wrapping up, she casually asks if anyone is interested in going scorpion hunting. As feared, scorpion hunting is really, really easy since they’re all around us. Scorpions glow in the dark, so the rangers at Phantom Ranch use flashlights fitted with a black light bulb to almost instantly reveal a disconcerting number of 2” long scorpions covering the rocks near where we’d just been sitting. One of the rangers specializes in scorpions and has been stung many times and her stories of pain suffering sorry agony and grief make us suddenly wish we still had our boots on instead of the open-toed sandals we wore to dinner…

The Colorado River with some rafters taking a rest on the beach.

We’re not the only ones taking advantage of the natural and gastronomic wonders of Phantom Ranch and of all the interesting folks we meet and see down there, two stand out.

The first is a white-bearded, big-bellied, crinkly-eyed smiler who calls himself Meadow Ed (google him) who easily holds court with his stories from a lifetime lived on the trail—from the Grand Canyon to the Pacific Crest Trail where he is, no exaggeration, a legend. Like we said, google him.

The second stand out is a guy we only exchange about 10 words with. The first time we see him he’s running (yes, running) past us on the trail up the North Rim side as we’re beginning to re-pack our Mountainsmith packs for our own return hike.

Most everything gets down to the bottom of the Canyon by mule, including food, mail, cases of beer, trash (on the way out) and even many tourists.

Later that day, as we approach the half-way mark, the same runner passes us again, this time on his way back down toward Phantom Ranch before continuing back up to the South Rim from whence he came. Still running, he has enough breath to inform us as he flies past that he’s on track to make the entire 42 mile trip from the South Rim to the North Rim and back again, descending and climbing more than 11,300 long hard feet, in EIGHT HOURS. That’s like running up and down a 1,150 story building spread out over 42 miles. Incredible.

We spend the next few hours on the trail simply trying to wrap our heads around what that guy is doing. At the same time, we’re also getting sucked into the addictive nature of the Grand Canyon. Incredibly, we finish our own trip into the canyon and back without even getting sore (possibly due to residual fitness left over from our recent Half Dome hike). This makes us begin to consider upping the ante ourselves with a hike from the North Rim to the South Rim in one day the next time we’re lucky enough to visit Grand Canyon National Park. Stay tuned.

Karen relaxes on the banks of The Colorado River at the the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

Many of you have met Grady, our beloved canine companion. However, since moving into our Safari SE full time back in June we’ve had another official inanimate mascot: a pair of pink plastic flamingos that have decorated our “front lawn” in places as diverse as the Black Rock Desert and the logo for this blog.

This helps explain why, as we pull into Las Vegas, we can’t resist the enormous neon flamingo that beckons to us from in front of the Flamingo Hotel & Casino. Now, we’ve been full-timing in our Airstream for more than four months which has allowed us to happily drive right past hundreds of motels and hotels, but we quickly make an exception and settle into one of The Flamingo’s recently renovated GO rooms after tucking our trailer safely into the hotel’s convenient over-size lot.

Flamingos can be seen all around the Flamingo Las Vegas Hotel & Casino, not all of them are as real as these.

“We own the pink!” is the slightly racy new motto of The Flamingo and the GO rooms make good on that promise with funky, modern, minimalist décor uses strategic touches of pink along with brown and white and cream and tan making the overall effect not unlike being inside a giant box of Good N’ Plenty (in a nice way).

Even nicer is the long and roomy desk (plenty of room for both of our computers), an empty refrigerator (we figure GO rooms have to be the only rooms in Las Vegas that don’t force an overpriced mini bar on you), a sexy/chic quilted white patent leather headboard, a huge fan over the bed, a small TV in the bathroom and an enormous flat screen in the room.

They even have a very small flock of live flamingos in an outdoor landscaped courtyard.

From Las Vegas, we head for the intimidating-sounding Valley of Fire State Park, just 55 miles northeast of the strip—but a world away.

Red rocks like these are what gave Valley of Fire State Park its name.

The park certainly has no flamingos, but it does have some seriously red rock formations, hence the name. It also has two campgrounds, though we highly recommend Arch Rock Campground which is more secluded and features much more dramatic terrain than its counterpart, if you can live without a hookup (there is a free dump station nearby).

An nearly full moon rises inside the arch.

For $14 a night Arch Rock Campground lets us park our Safari SE right amongst the namesake rocks with a level site, a fire ring and a lovely covered picnic table. It’s so nice we stay an extra night and even put our flamingos out.

It's a tight squeeze between the amazing rock formations in the Arch Rock Campground in Valley of Fire State Park.

Some towns just have it all—like Page, Arizona which was literally created out of thin desert to house and feed workers brought into the area to begin building the Glen Canyon Dam in the ‘50s. Today the sleepy town is home to about 7,000 and a great home base for anyone interested in exploring awesome Lake Powell, created when Glen Canyon (and many other side canyons) filled up with water behind the completed Glen Canyon Dam.

The 710 foot high Glen Canyon Dam created Lake Powell.

Part of the Glen Canyon Recreational Area, Lake Powell is famous as a house boating destination and rightly so since the lake’s awesome sculptural sandstone cliffs and hundreds of meandering finger-like side canyons are best explored on the lake’s deep (as in many hundreds of feet deep) and crystal clear water from a fully-appointed houseboat that lets you take a hot shower, cook great meals, sleep in comfy beds and even (in some cases) soak in a hot tub and watch a flat panel TV. Yeah, they’re nicer than our old apartment in Manhattan was.

House boating on beautiful Lake Powell.

Every fall Page makes good use of the air as well as the water with the annual Page/Lake Powell Hot Air Balloon Regatta. In its sixth year, the event attracted nearly 50 balloons plus their pilots and chase crews. Hot air ballooning is truly a team sport since no balloon would ever get inflated and airborne (let alone back on the ground safe and sound) without a small posse of wranglers and drivers who handle the balloon and literally chase it from a vehicle once it’s in the air to make sure they’re on the ground with it wherever the pilot chooses to land.

Karen helps pilot Chris ready his balloon, Heaven's Quilt, for a flight.

Before attending the regatta, we’d never been up in a hot air balloon and we’re surprised to discover how similar it is to scuba diving. Okay, you’re not wet or breathing bottled oxygen (hopefully), but the changing buoyancy and slow pace gives us a very similar relaxed feeling (thanks for taking us up Bill and Chris). As pilot Cheryl’s t-shirt says: “It’s cheaper than therapy.”

A few of the 50 balloons in flight with the Glen Canyon Dam and Lake Powell in the background.

Hot air ballooning—like most specialized, slightly fringe, certainly expensive and possibly dangerous activities—tends to attract fascinating fun loving people (remember: interesting people do interesting things). Everyone we meet during the three day Page/Lake Powell Hot Air Balloon Regatta (hi Bill, Mike, Chris, Travis, Hank, Deb, Frank, Trina, Lee, Jan, Sarah, Bryan, Cheryl, Sean and Gary) is a unique character with great stories, great generosity and a great desire to have a great time with other great people. We’re told that a few jerks sneak into the ranks every once in a while, but they don’t last long.

Pilot Chris at the helm of Heaven's Quilt.

With so many fun-loving people gathered in one place, it’s no surprise that once the early morning flights are done, the tailgating begins. And by tailgating we mean full on hot breakfasts of scrambled eggs and ham and unbelievably delicious ginger pancakes cooked fresh on huge grills and served in cut glass dishes (thanks Deb!). Seriously. Did we mention the homemade bloody mary’s, deep fried turkeys, Jell-O shots and kegs of beer?

The Ladybug and a halloween jack-o-latern balloon were the most interesting shapes at the regatta.

These folks don’t fool around when it comes to flying (okay, not much) and they’re certainly serious about having a good time. The whole post-flight scene reminds us of the impromptu gatherings and good times we always have when we go to music festivals and that makes us happy.

A heliopter ride gives us an aerial view of the balloons glowing on Page's main street.

Balloons line up and glow on the ground along Page's main street.

During this visit to Page we don’t have a houseboat to retire to each night, but we do have our trusty Safari SE tucked snugly into site A3 in the Wahweap RV Park which has perfect lake views (book a site in the low numbers on the A loop for best positioning), which we take full advantage of during sunrise and sunset when everything—rocks, sky, water—turns pink.

Our Airstream with a million dollar view of Lake Powell from the Wahweap RV Park.

Located right at the lake in the midst of the protected recreation area, the RV park is also home to rabbits, road runners and coyotes and, in keeping with its natural surroundings, all the buildings have been designed in colors and shapes that marry well with the sandstone terrain. The main office and store is also equipped with solar panels which help power the place. The RV park is noteworthy for a bunch of more basic reasons as well, including super clean facilities, the cheapest and best RV park laundry room we’ve come across yet ($1 washer s and .50 dryers) and a free shuttle to and from Page. All for $43!

Boondocking in The Alabama Hills, in the shadow of Mount Whitney (right)!

We’ve all been there. That perfect backcountry spot—away from everyone and everything—where you can park your Airstream in peace and quiet with all the comforts of home, but without the need for a hookup or a city water connection or an RV park or neighbors.

Since we got our Safari SE back in June we’ve done plenty of boondocking (the Black Rock Desert, Bonneville Salt Flats, etc), however, The Alabama Hills outside LonePine, California, offers something unique.

The Alabama Hills lie just above Lone Pine, CA and are in the shadow of Mount Whitney, the highest point in the lower 48 (not visible in photo).

Yes, there’s peace and quiet and solitude and privacy and the right price (free) and amazing scenery including rounded red rocks and arches that make us think of Utah, not California. You even get peek-a-boo views of the cloud-shrouded jagged peak of Mt. Whitney towering above.

Karen (and Grady) lounging in front of our panorama windows with The Alabama Hills outside.

But on top of all that, The Alabama Hills, administered by the BLM, also offers Gene Autry and Randolph Scott—or at least their ghosts. That’s because this small area was used as the set for hundreds of Westerns including The Lone Ranger, How the West was Won, Rawhide and Gunga Din and we arrive just as the annual Lone Pine Film Festival is beginning.

The Alabama Hills have been used as a western/desert/mountain location for hundreds of films dating back to the early days of Hollywood. Here a photo shows a location from The Lone Ranger.

Every year during the festival, organizers go out into the Alabama Hills and place temporary placards in front of various locations, showing specific rocks and gulleys as they appeared in a famous movie still. We’re not even big Western fans, but we’re fascinated right along with the busloads of festival goers who are wandering around in the wind. What they made of our Safari parked beyond the fray is anyone’s guess. Maybe they thought it was a movie star’s trailer…

Mount Whitney towers over The Alabama Hills.

It’s been a long time since we’ve eaten anywhere outside our Airstream—something that’s made us richer and healthier. However, who can pass up a gas-station eatery that gets rave reviews from gourmands? Not us. So, just outside Yosemite National Park near Lee Vining, CA we pull into a Mobil station and belly up to the Whoa Nellie Deli where white-capped chefs have replaced microwave burritos with gourmet meals including fish tacos and elk steaks. The place is packed, but the $13-$27 price tags are a bit too rich for our blood (even though everything looks and smells like it’s worth every penny), so we drive above the service station to a lookout point over Mono Lake and make a sandwich in our Airstream.

We’re not here to eat, anyway, since this section of the Eastern Sierra Nevada range is full of things to see and do. First, we head down to Mono Lake Tufa State Natural Reserve, the incredible inland salt lake (it’s 2.5 times saltier than the ocean) that for years had been shrinking as an alarming series of previous lake level markers illustrates. The Tufa formations, big knobby spires of calcium carbonate (basically, big piles of Alka Seltzer) deposited at various intervals where the shoreline used to lap are so strange they look manmade.

Tufa formations in Mono Lake.

Our next stop is Bodie State Historic Park, an incredibly intact former gold mining town. Still-furnished homes, stores with fully-stocked shelves and vintage automobiles parked on the street make it feel as if the residents just up and walked away one day—which is essentially what happened.

The eerily-intact ghost town of Bodie.

Still nursing stiff legs and sore muscles from our recent hike up Half Dome in Yosemite National Park, we make time to soak out the kinks at the Travertine Hot Springs near Bridgeport. The natural spring is located down a dirt road (if we told you any more we’d have to kill you) and locals have done a fantastic job of creating a welcoming, comfortable, clean and free outdoor soaking pool without intruding on the beautiful natural setting. Whether it’s the water or the views of the Sierras, our muscles feel much better after an hour or so of soaking.

Sixty foot tall columnar basalt formations at Devil's Postpile National Monument

This part of the Sierras is also home to Devil’s Postpile National Monument. It’s doesn’t quite deliver a stunning monolith like Devil’s Tower National Monument, which we camped at back in July of 2006 in the very beginning of our Trans-Americas Journey, but the short steep trail to the top of the 60 foot tall columnar basalt pillar formation affords a unique view of these hexagonal pillars which, from above, interlock perfectly like parquet flooring. It’s gorgeous and mysterious but not at all devilish.

The top of the Devil's Postpile formation looks like parquet flooring.

Like many small parks and preserved areas we’ve visited, the US Forest Service run Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest in the Inyo National Forest seems to be bypassed by far too many people. The forest here boasts large groves of beautifully twisted bristlecone pine trees that grow slow, strong and long—more than 4,000 years. The single oldest known living thing on earth, the 4,700 plus year old Methuselah tree, can be reached via a four mile trail right from the visitor center which, sadly, just burned down.

The Patrirch Tree is the largest of its kind in the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest.

You can also drive 12 miles beyond the visitor center out a dirt road to reach the Patriarch Grove where young bristlecones (a mere 1,000-2,000 years old) flourish at 11,000 feet in the shadow of White Mountain. The landscape is strangely lunar and the twisted, tortured, slow-growing trees look more like wind-swept sculptures than something living. However, the rocky, arid soil here is dotted with tiny up and coming bristlecone seedlings which we hope will ensure a future for these odd trees.

Karen walking among the ancient bristlecone pines in The Patriarch Grove.

A dead bristlecone pine. Some of these dead tress have been dated back 7,000 years.