As you’ve seen above, #preservethegood could mean anything – it could mean helping someone in a time of need; it could be picking up trash on a trail, or a wilderness area; it could be educating people on leave no trace principles; it could be making a difference in any way you want; and it could be just about anything you want as long as you are focused in keeping the magic and the unique positive things in this world and this life. In terms of tangible things, I encourage you, my readers and followers to use the hashtag when you post a photo of something amazing; or when you’re talking about something exceptional you – or someone else has done to improve the world. I look forward to seeing how all of you end up preserving the good in 2015, and you can rest assured that as always, I will keep preserving the good where I find it as well, because as Plato says, “Good actions give strength to ourselves and inspire good actions in others.”
As I mentioned previously, Waimea Canyon is a site that is most definitely one of the “must-view” locations on Kauai, and in the world; and as I also mentioned, the best way to experience it is to hike it. While there are many great hikes through the canyon, the best hike in my book is the Canyon Trail to Waipoo Falls. It is the best hike to me because at four miles roundtrip, it is accessible, it has stunning views of the canyon from inside the canyon, and it ends at the top Waipoo Falls. It also allows the hiker the chance to swim in a waterfall, which is a once in a lifetime experience.
The deserts of the world are home to many strange things, both natural and unnatural. One of the strangest - and most unique things is Salvation Mountain, located outside of Niland, California. Salvation Mountain was the work of one man, Leonard Knight. Over the course of thirty years, Leonard built - and re-built Salvation Mountain out of hay bales, plaster, and paint to spread his simple but powerful message - "God is Love".
Everything has its time.-Dr. Who. Think about that for a second – everything has its time. It’s simple, elegant, and true. Everything – no matter what it is, has its time. There are songs that had meanings in life that you forgot but instantly remember when you hear them again; there’s foods that comfort you when you need them; and there’s smells that have the power to drag you to ancient epochs past. This is to say nothing of people, things, places, and pretty much every tangible and intangible thing in life. Everything has its time. The practical application of this phrase, however, is present in Trona, California, where the Trona Pinnacles currently stand.
One of many unusual things that lurks in the desert...
It’s quiet. That’s usually the first thing you notice when you are in the desert. It’s not the quiet of a city, where things stop for a split second, leaving only the hum of lights burning the fluorescent orange glow into the low hanging clouds of the night sky, and then the noises restart so quickly that one forgets that there even was a moment without sound. It’s not the quiet of the mountains, where winds whisper across the rocks and make them groan from the cold long nights. It’s not the quiet of the forest, where the trees talk to the ground, the ground talks to the stars, and the animals walk between all of those noises. It’s not the quiet of the jungle, where the day shudders with the sound of constant growth and the chatter of bugs. It’s not even the quiet of the ocean, which murmurs comfortable nothings, nor the quiet of ice that blinds your ears with the sound of death. The desert is none of those things. It is the quiet of the unknown.
It is not just the quiet of the unknown that permeates the desert. It is the quiet of the unexpected. It’s the silence of the calm before the storm. It’s the silence of rapidly building heat. It’s the silence of icy cold. It’s the silence of a coming storm, of wind that scourges sand over your bones, or rain that floods and rushes over all that it sees. It’s the silence of shifting terrain, from flat plateaus, to boulder strewn hills, to impossible mountains and shifting dunes, and everything in between. It’s the lack of water where springs are marked on maps, and impossible wells where there should be none. It’s the quiet of a changing landscape, where things fade out of wavy lines into substance, and then disappear again, and of things that stay fixed in one spot, but should not be corporeal. Above all, it’s the silence that is the desert, a silence that seems to be watching you at all times.
One cannot travel in the desert and not be changed by it. Whether it is a simple case of nerves, or actual oddities, the desert changes you, just as surely as your tracks change its features. Just as easily, if you are not prepared, a desert can make you fade from existence with its sliding sands and vastness as if you never existed. Desert travel involves a lot of risks because of the unknown and unexpected variables. But, in my opinion, the risks are well worth it, as the desert possesses a cold and majestic beauty, and many undiscovered wonders. Practically, deserts cover over one fifth of the earth’s surface, and in some instances are growing. In fact, some leading scientists believe that should global warming continue to go forward, eventually, the earth’s surface will be one large desert, an idea that’s somewhat popularized in the upcoming movie Obselida (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qhly0dt8Fj0). Despite how the world may or may not end, there are many amazing things to see in deserts; things of wonder; things of beauty; and unexpected and unknown things. Since I’m in Southern California, I’m fortunate to be near a number of deserts – if not one large un-named desert, so the next couple weeks will be stories from things I’ve seen this year as I once again explored some new and favorite locations this winter and spring. So, let me be your guide, and follow me out into the invisible unknown wastelands that I know.
