Welcome to the Last Month of Our Gap Year.

Foreword

by Sam the Other Bean

I have to say, after spending so much time in California I had really grown fond of the place. I don’t think there’s another state with as much diversity and outward beauty as California. From windy coasts to baking deserts to alpine peaks, California really has it all. And even though we had done so much during our visit and hit just about every destination we wanted to, we were leaving with a list twice as long counting all the unknown places we had passed along the way.

While a small part of me wanted to stay in California indefinitely and explore every little nook and cranny, I pretty well felt ready to move on to something new (which is not something I can say for every state we visit). Or maybe it was knowing that our next destination was my favorite place in the whole wide world that made me feel antsy. Either way the drive from California was long, but with every mountain we crested and every valley we crossed I watched as the land changed from a place that I was merely visiting to a place I called home.

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Black Rock Desert, Nevada

by Kes the Photobean

The last month of our Gap Year begins on a road to a very special place.

The pavement leading us from California to Nevada turned to dirt the second we crossed state lines. Such a fitting way to start an adventure. Though I’ve never driven on this exact road before, I knew it led to one of my favorite places on this Earth.

I can’t explain why the Black Rock Desert is so special to Sam and I without first talking about our other trips to this corner of Nevada.

August 18th, 2018

Aww, little 19-year-old Kes and Sam are completely unaware of what they're getting themselves into.

I don’t even know how Black Rock showed up on Sam’s radar. I think he was messing around on Google Maps when he stumbled across this odd looking spot in the middle of the desert. Or maybe he wanted to know more about Burning Man and dug up information on where the festival was held. Either way, all I remember was how excited he was to plan a trip there.

This was all the way back in the summer of 2018. We were both working and desperate for an escape. It’s funny looking back on it, because in all honesty we really weren’t prepared for what we were about to experience. For a couple of kids who hadn’t camped further from home than southern New Mexico, this was about to be a huge trip. But, despite the unknown, we shared a deep sense of excitement.

I can still hear the hoots and hollers after leaving town.

It’s weird to think that we made the trek with an entirely different Jeep and Teardrop setup.

We drove through the night, stopping to rest for no more than a couple of hours. We were so eager to reach this mysterious desert that we weren’t willing to waste any more time than we had to. This was our first real road trip together, just the two of us, and it really set the stage for life on the Gap Year.

The special part about Black Rock desert is its massive playa, or hardened clay flats. The playa is a result of thousands of years of silt accumulation as the bed of the Ice Age Lake Lahontan. When the Ice Age ended and the climate warmed, the massive lake slowly dried up, leaving behind the perfectly flat salt flats.

It took three hours of driving on a rough dirt road to reach where we would eventually camp. The drive took us along an active railroad, through a ghost town, and across some stunningly beautiful desert landscapes. Although this wasn’t the official route onto the playa, I couldn’t have asked for a better introduction. Sure, the Jeep’s fuel economy dipped well below 12 miles per gallon while towing Teardrop 1.0 across the hot desert, but that was a part of the journey.

Stretching across the horizon for nearly 30 miles in one direction, the playa is a weird and wild place to be.

I can’t quite remember my first impression of Black Rock. Maybe that’s because the entirety of our introduction took place during those three hours on the dirt road. You see, when it takes that long to reach a place, you get to know the landscape in a different way. Distant hills eventually lead to the edge of colorful foothills. A lonesome mountain of black limestone sprouted from a little dot on the horizon. This was no highway that just plopped us onto the playa; instead, we had to trot beside the sagebrush, much like the wild horses that roamed this desert.

The album How to Be a Human Being by the Glass Animals played more than once as we crawled along the dusty floor.

Finally, as the sun was threatening to dip behind the mountains, we set up our very first camp in the middle of Black Rock Desert. As we would soon discover, our setup was not without its flaws. Although we were perfectly shaded from the sun, we had no idea that the evening winds were so strong. More than once we were awoken to the sound of our canopy uprooting itself in an attempt to fly away. Midnight wrangling was far less enjoyable than it sounds.

With all that being said, I still have a special place in my heart for our first setup because this was my first camping trip where we went out with the specific purpose to chill. Glamping has a lot of faces, but for us that included long stretches of time spent painting, writing, and relaxing. We even brought the comfiest pool floaties to relax under the blistering sun with.

A small reason why we didn’t drive around and explore more during the day was our gas situation. We had to be careful not to empty the tank so low that we couldn’t leave. That isn’t to say we stayed at camp all day, we just couldn’t drive vast distances across the playa like we wanted to.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that the time I spent painting here irrevocably changed the way I painted as an artist. Before this trip, I dreamed too big for my patience and rarely finished any piece. Then, I learned that finger painting was the best way (for me) to bypass the crippling perfectionism I held towards my own art. If you’re curious about more of the backstory behind this painting, read about it here.

The above photo is a great segway into the other huge reason why Black Rock is so special to me: This colorful desert is the focal point of my evolution as a photographer.

By this time in 2018, I was predominantly a portrait photographer. I had been taking photos of friends for years, and I was getting pretty good at it, too. But the second we reached Black Rock, I knew that those skills didn’t translate to landscape photography. In fact, I distinctly remember thinking that I would never be a landscape photographer because it was way too hard (which is hilarious to look back on). So, instead of capturing the land around me, I set out to do a playa photoshoot with Sam. The few landscapes I did capture were pretty sad on their own, so I edited them in a fun way instead.

I’ve never shared these photos anywhere before, save for one exception. So please, enjoy these shots from the dark corners of my archive.

I call this one “Ironic Tranquility.”

Nothing better than dried lake gossip.

Of all the lounging photos, I think this one is my favorite.

I never knew what else to add to this photo. I always liked how subtly startling it was.

The first of my alien landscape edits. Bright, colorful, and very weird.

I’ve always loved these weird edits, though. There’s something about painting with pixels that inspires me to go way too far.

Thankfully, these photos never truly went to waste. Years after I took these, I made one of my favorite graphic designs using these shots as smaller elements in the composition.

What do you think? I might just have to turn this into a poster for myself because I really do love it -- the perfect summary of our first trip, all wrapped up into one image.

July 29th, 2020

Two years after that first trip to Black Rock, we went again. What better way to avoid the new pandemic than by isolating ourselves in the middle of the desert?

For this second trip, we would bring more food, more water, more gas, all to extend time spent in this magical place. Oh, and more toys.

It’s hard to lose a rocket when there’s literally nothing for it to hide behind.

It’s a little easier to lose a rocket when you launch it off the highest point you can reach.

Something happened during this second trip to Black Rock that I was completely unprepared for.

Where once I was adamant about never being a “landscape photographer,” something clicked and, BAM, I was suddenly capturing some amazing shots. Maybe my familiarity with the landscape helped guide my eye. Maybe the past two years taught me how to pay attention and look for patterns and colors in the world around me. Or, maybe, I finally switched my camera dial from “manual” to “landscape.” Though I’ll never be certain, I have a feeling all three had a hand in this huge shift in style.

I want to show you just a few of the shots from this second trip so you can get a feel of how much I grew as a photographer during this visit.

I get the odd feeling of being watched . . .

Black Rock Hot Springs. Sometimes you can take a dip in the steamy hot water, and other times the water is just hot enough to keep you away.

The mountain of black limestone is what gives Black Rock Desert its name. Recognize it from somewhere?

Of course we had to climb it.

From the top of the Black Rock’s peak, I could see the entirety of Black Rock Hot Springs. Though the pool itself is small, this vantage point shows how crucial water is in the desert. The spring’s runoff feeds a vast diversity of life until the very last drop is soaked up. This was and still is my favorite shot from the trip.

I think a big factor that helped push me into taking landscape photos was the fact that we started hiking a lot more. It’s easier to take a good photo when you have a unique vantage point.

Sam’s reaction to this viewpoint really says it all. The dark speck in the bottom left is where we set up camp.

This was my first ever panorama. Bonus points if you know where this is painted ;)

Alongside my growth as an artist, Black Rock Desert also taught Sam and I plenty of lessons on resiliency. One of my favorite examples was when a massive front slammed into camp and nearly sent our canopy flying into the air. In our rush to tie everything down securely, we also just so happened to lock ourselves out of the Teardrop; 1.0 only had one door, which was then blocked by the canopy. With nothing else to do but watch the storm blow through, we hunkered down in the Jeep and watched a movie on our phones. It was actually kind of fun.

August 13th, 2022

Sam and I knew while planning for the Gap Year that Black Rock would be the perfect place to begin the end. In the past, Black Rock represented an escape from the real world, where we could trade responsibility for self-sufficiency. Now, at the end of a year defined by such self-sufficiency, Black Rock represented our last big adventure before reentering the real world.

Caught in a moment of victory. We finally made it!

Celebratory beers are in order!

Going to the same remote corner of Nevada every two years is an odd experience to say the least. Time feels slower here. Sure, Black Rock Hot Springs no longer has a dock, and some roads are better maintained, but at the end of the day nothing has really changed here. It’s comforting, yet disorienting.

To think that I’ve been here at the age of 19, 21, and 23 is an absurd thought. Though the playas are the same as they were four years ago, I certainly am not.

At first I was worried about going to Black Rock for the third time. What could we possibly do that we haven’t done yet? But, of course, I had nothing to be afraid of. The beauty of living on the road for the past year is that we really know how to squeeze every last drop of fun out of a place.

Over the span of 6 days we found something new to do. This is the road we took on our hunt for geodes.

The drives were my favorite part. No matter where we went, there was always something to see.

As for my journey in photography, this last trip to Black Rock taught me something unexpected: I am capable. Against the backdrop of my previous experiences here, I find it strange to finally feel confident in myself. I’m so thankful that I can come to this unique stretch of Earth and finally capture how this place makes me feel.

Join me for a ride around this crazy weird beautiful desert.

The colors of the desert shine in the noonday sun.

Every so often we’ll hit a stretch of road that demands appreciation. That’s usually when I frantically jump out of the Jeep with my camera, begging for just one more minute.

I wonder when we’ll get to see the video version of this post?

Sam loves scaring me when I’m in the passenger seat.

The playa takes on so many different patterns, colors, shapes, and textures. It’s impossible to not fall in love.

Whoops, I mistook this as a Jeep commercial.

There comes a point when camping in Black Rock where you become one with the dirt.

Caught in a moment of self-reflection.

Lost in the Landscape.

Where earth and sky meet, that’s where I’ll be.

The weather was perfect, nearly every night we watched movies underneath the stars.

This was another one of those shots that made me run for my camera. The sun’s rays merged with the clouds, shrouding the mountains in a veil of light.

Yet another fun road that leads to my new favorite viewpoint.

Once again, Sam’s pose says it all.

The desert really is one of the most colorful places on Earth.

This was the moment I was beginning to regret getting Sam into photography.

This photo does a great job of encapsulating the essence of what Black Rock means to us.

I love this shot of Black Rock Hot Springs. The reflection of the sky melts into the spring bottom, pleasantly confusing my brain.

Halfway through the week we moved camp onto the Big Playa.

This new campsite had perfect views of the passing clouds, it was mesmerizing.

Gotta break in the new campsite with a game of Catan/Yahtzee.

The desert may be filled with rocks and dry plants, but that’s not all. A surprising array of life thrives here, you just have to stay long enough to see.

My sense of perspective is completely lost when on the playa. The rain completely bypassed camp and left us bone dry, leaving behind a rainbow in its wake. Just for us.

The thing about Black Rock that keeps us coming back is the isolation and, oddly enough, the community.

We can always bet on chatting with interesting characters near one of the few swimmable hot springs, but the people we usually encounter are miles away. That also goes for the distant workings of Burning Man workers kicking up dust on the horizon, an army of small motes minding their own business.

Sam is checking out the Burning Man site with these binoculars we stole from my dad.

It’s obvious these people love this place as much as we do. I can see that in each well worn trail; rarely, if ever, have I seen wheel tracks lead off trail and cause mindless destruction. Though most of us come here to be alone with ourselves, I can appreciate the other souls we cross paths with. After all, if you’re crazy enough to spend time all the way out here, then there’s a good chance we’ll get along.

This is the inner lid of a cache near Black Rock Hot Springs, one of the few places where the presence of other people was obvious.

The inside of that cache had necessary supplies, like water and a lighter, as well as some beer. The logbook contained hundreds of messages from people just like us. While reading that book, I felt connected with these past visitors. So many people of all ages and walks of life traveled across the country and beyond to stand in this very spot.

As the hours of our last day began to dwindle, we tried our best to linger. We traveled across the playa to Trego Hot Springs for one last dip, taking a moment to sit and appreciate the feeling of water in such a dry place. I particularly enjoyed watching the dragonflies and bats sip from the surface of the pool.

The still active railroad connects this remote pocket of Nevada to the rest of the world.

Our last sunset in Black Rock. I like to think this was the desert’s way of saying goodbye and sending us off in a wave of color.

It wasn’t until we drove back from those hot springs that it truly hit me that we were about to leave. In all honesty, if it weren’t for the increased fridge space and waning water supply, I hardly would have noticed that a week had already passed since first entering Black Rock. A jolt of sadness shot through my heart, leaving behind questions I can’t quite answer yet.

When will we come back?

Will we have to wait another two years before seeing this place again?

Are we ever going to Burning Man?

This last trip around Black Rock was the longest time we had ever spent here, yet it felt oh so incredibly short. I guess that’s just what happens when you take advantage of every moment you have.

Thankfully my sadness didn’t get the chance to linger for too long.

At long last, a shower was in our future.

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Lake Tahoe

by Sam the Other Bean

August 21st, 2022

Only a couple hours drive from Black Rock Desert is a place that contrasts the Playa in almost every respect. Lake Tahoe is the water to Black Rock’s dry air, the cool to the desert’s heat, and the high alpine environment to the Playa’s low-lying basin. In other words, Lake Tahoe is the perfect respite for weary travelers coming from dry deserts.

This wasn’t the first time Kes and I had visited Lake Tahoe. We had actually come here after our first visit to Black Rock Desert four years ago. Back then we had put a lot of effort into learning about the lake - how pollution has affected the clarity of the water, how the historically rich residents lived, and other little bits of history. I was glad we did all that because it meant this time around we could put all our effort into simply enjoying the water and surrounding nature.

One of the first activities we did around Tahoe was surprisingly not sunbathing. Kes and I both agreed that waiting to swim, and instead seeing the lake from an awesome vista, would make dipping into the cool water that much more enjoyable. So, we took to the trail and started our way up Rubicon Peak.

The trail was less of a tried-and-true route and more of a scramble straight up a literal mountain of scree. We billygoated our way up it without problem, and as we did I couldn’t help but wonder what this hike would’ve looked like at the beginning of the Gap Year. I’m sure we would’ve made it, although it would have undoubtedly taken a few more hours (and a fair share of hardships).

Once on top we were greeted with commanding views of Lake Tahoe. From up here the lapis-blue waters looked like a portal into an entirely different world. I can say with confidence that I had never wanted to swim more in that lake than I did after summiting Rubicon Peak, all hot and sweaty and two thousand feet in the clouds.

After making our way back to camp we threw on our swimsuits and walked to the beach. While this wasn’t my favorite beach, I’ll never take for granted the opportunity to swim within walking distance of camp.

Our second day at Tahoe was our official beach day. After a bit of research we found an epic beach called Secret Cove, which was indeed very difficult to find.

After bushwhacking through a good deal of forest we finally stumbled upon this amazing aquamarine cove littered with boulders ranging from the size of a person to a small car. It all seemed too perfect, like somebody had intentionally placed each stone and each grain of sand to create the ideal rock garden.

We arrived early enough to claim a spot pretty much wherever we wanted. As time went on more and more people showed up, and by the time we left in the late afternoon the beach was in full on party mode. I actually really enjoyed the atmosphere, as everybody was super respectful and had the shared intention of enjoying the water.

Can you tell that we got a lot of sun during our eight hours on the beach?

To me there’s no better way to end a beach day than with a burger. Do you agree?

I was super glad Kes and I had decided to revisit Lake Tahoe. Four years ago we were camping in the original Teardrop, we weren’t even 21, and, of course, we weren’t engaged. While I still don’t feel like an ‘adult’, I definitely felt much more mature and prepared this time around. I felt like I had exceeded the expectations I had set for myself when I was 19 and that my younger self would be proud of me. I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Nevada

by Sam the Other Bean

August 24th, 2022

Oh Nevada, how I missed you. In a weird way, I’d been dreaming about this moment during the entire Gap Year. We were about to enter the final stretch of the Gap Year, and while I wasn’t excited to be almost done with this amazing adventure, I was giddy thinking about the freedom being in Nevada afforded.

While we’ve been relatively free to make our own decisions during this past year, we were always guided by weather, or reservations, or some other random itinerary item. In other words, we had never really had the time to wander and get lost somewhere without a worry in the world. Now that we were only one national park away from our goal and had over a month before our scheduled return date, we could finally get down and dirty with the state that’s always in the back of my mind.

We made one last pit stop in the town of Fallon to do some laundry and stock up on groceries, then hit the road with no particular destination in mind.

I couldn’t be more happy.

We made camp that night outside of Fallon. We followed a dirt road to its terminus on top of a small hill, which turned out to be the remains of an old mine. There we watched the sun set and drank in all of its beautiful colors.

The next morning we made our way to Grimes Point, an area chock full of petroglyphs. I couldn’t believe Nevada had any petroglyphs, let alone an area with this many. It seemed as though every rock had something chipped into it, like this one that had a lizard, snake, and birds?

The carvings on this rock are much more abstract. One reason why I love petroglyphs so much is because there is no right or wrong way to interpret them. To me the circles might be a map of some sort and the lines might represent a family unit. What do you think?

Grimes Point was also home to cliffs littered with caves. Some of these caves had this white bubbly rock on the underside that didn’t seem natural. Turns out this white rock is called Tufa and was formed from Algae growing under the waters of ancient Lake Lahontan long ago.

We were only halfway into our first day in Nevada and already I had learned so much history about this seemingly barren place. What was particularly difficult to comprehend was the idea that this desert had not always been so. In fact, when the petroglyphs were chipped into rocks at Grimes Point, it’s likely that a small portion of Lake Lahontan still remained in the valley and was utilized by those same indigenous peoples. How crazy is that?

Our next destination was Sand Mountain, recommended to us by my Bappa. He actually used to work at the Air Force Base in Fallon. He said he passed these dunes many times but never actually stopped to see them closer. It felt good sending him a picture of Kes and I next to Sand Mountain, almost like I had completed something left unfinished from a long time ago.

While we ate lunch we watched as a single car made its way to the information post and promptly got stuck in the soft sand. Luckily we were nearby to help, as there was literally nobody else in sight. For the first time on the Gap Year I whipped out the winch and pulled him out without trouble. I was so thankful that the first, and only, time we had to use the winch was to help somebody else!

Kes and I stumbled upon this little bit of history on our way out of the dunes. This pile of rocks is what remains of an old Pony Express station, which delivered mail via horse from one side of the country to the other before the telegraph was established.

After reading a bit more about the Pony Express and the Sand Springs Station (where we were) during our visit, I became infatuated with the idea and just can’t help but share some of that history below.

The Pony Express only ran for 18 months, from early 1860 to late 1861. Even in that short time this mail service left its legendary mark on American history. Using the Pony Express Route, mail traveled on horseback from St. Joseph, Missouri to Sacramento, California in just 10 days - a 1,900 mile long journey! To accomplish such a feat Pony Express stations were spaced about 10 miles away from each other. Riders would travel for about 75 to 100 miles at a time, changing horses at each station along the way.

It’s not difficult to imagine how tough being a rider or station attendant must’ve been. Pony Express stations were typically isolated and dirty, with the Sand Springs Station being no exception. This particular station, situated within walking distance of Sand Mountain, had no roof and only a tepid, sulfurous spring for drinking water. Can you imagine living in a place where you couldn’t escape the blowing sand or sun, with water that would sting your throat every time you took a sip?

One more note on this place: Sand Springs Station was actually rediscovered in the 1970’s after being buried almost entirely with sand. It only took a century of dust to entirely bury the six foot tall walls of this building - a testament to how harsh life here really was!

“Sand Springs deserved its name...the land is cumbered here and there with drifted ridges of the finest sand, sometimes 200 feet high and shifting before every gale. Behind the house stood a mound shaped like the contents of an hour-glass, drifted up by the stormy S.E. gale in esplande shape and falling steep to northward or against the wind. The water near this vile hole was thick and stale with sulphury salts; it blistered the hands. The station house was no unfit object on such a scene, roofless and chairless, filthy and squalid, with a smoky fire in one corner, impure floor, the walls open to every wind, and the interior full of dust.” -Richard Francis Burton, a British explorer and writer

That afternoon we made our way up an unmarked road to find a campsite.This particular road went past what looked like the remnants of an old house. In a place this secluded, I always wonder who was crazy enough to actually try and live here . . .

Kes and I set up camp, made ourselves some drinks, and cheered to another spectacular Nevada sunset.

The next morning we drove over the mountain range we had camped on to get to Berlin-Icthyosaur State Park. Before we had even set foot in the park, I was already in love. This place was about as secluded as a park can get - we were 70 miles from the nearest gas station and 20 miles from the nearest paved road. Only Nevada would have state parks this far from nowhere!

As the name implies, this park is known for two things. The reason that got Kes excited was the fact that this park is home to the most abundant concentration, and largest known remains, of Ichthyosaurs. These marine reptiles, pictured posing with Kes, swam in a warm ocean that covered central Nevada 225 million years ago.

The most significant concentration of these fossils can be found in a large shelter. This exposed layer of rock may not look like much upon first glance, but look closer and you’ll find a myriad of unnatural shapes and textures hidden across the surface.

There are nearly 40 Ichthyosaurs in this small area! There’s no definitive reason why all of these Ichthyosaurs died in the same spot, but some theories that may explain this large concentration include a red tide (a harmful algal bloom which still occurs today) or food poisoning,

The part of this state park that I was most excited about was Berlin. Berlin was a mining town established in the late 1800’s after the discovery of silver in the area.

While there are many ghost towns littered around Nevada, without conservation efforts many have collapsed into unrecognizable forms. I really appreciated this park because it preserved what a typical turn of the century mining town was like. This large building was the mill, the heart of the town, where all of the ore was crushed up and processed to produce refined silver.

There was a lot more to Berlin than just the mill. Many buildings were scattered around, with some even housing current park rangers! The town had a general store and many places for social gathering, just as you would expect in any modern-day town.

After spending some time at Berlin-Ichthyosaur State Park, Kes and I made our way to some hot springs near Austin, in the very center of Nevada. Of all places, the heart of Nevada would be the last place I would expect to find hot springs!

There were actually several unique hot springs in this area. This one was the hottest of them all, and was actually too hot for us to soak in no matter the time of day or night.

Would you believe this hot spring actually had fish swimming around in it? You can see them if you look for the orange blobs under the surface of the water!

As much as I love hot springs, there was something else we found while camping in this area that really stole my heart . . .

One night, right when we were about to finish cooking dinner, Kes and I spotted a small animal lurking around camp. It wasn’t long before we realized it was a stray dog looking for a meal. I initially wanted nothing to do with this dog, even telling Kes not to feed it any scraps, but that mindset didn’t last for very long . . .

By the next day Kes and I had already given her a name - Vya (named after a ghost town we visited a couple weeks back). She couldn’t have been that old at all, maybe only 8 or 9 months, and had the most beautiful coat, especially for a dog that had been living in the desert for who knows how long.

Kes and I were set on taking Vya home for a long time, but after some hard thinking, and a few reality checks, we realized that such a task just wasn’t feasible. Vya was the most skittish dog I had ever seen; she would flinch at the slightest of movements, and petting or touching of any kind was definitely off the table. The closest we ever got to feeling her was hand feeding her food.

Kes and I spent two days trying to gain Vya’s trust with little progress to show for it. The thought of leaving her there alone was crushing, but luckily there was another way. An older lady named Vicki stopped by our camp one night and showed interest in Vya. She didn’t take Vya home that night, but we stayed in contact. Long story short we told Vicki that, if she wanted Vya, she would have to set up camp where we were and slowly try and gain her trust over a long period of time. To my surprise Vicki actually followed our advice. We felt good leaving Vya in her hands, knowing that somebody was out there watching over our pup.

I hope you’re doing well Vya!

We spent the next few days doing nothing in particular, just enjoying the spectacular Nevada scenery and getting lost in her vast mountains and basins.

Eventually we found ourselves back at the entrance to the Extraterrestrial Highway. It was crazy to think that we were in this exact same spot nearly six months prior! There’s even a Robi Trailers sticker from our first visit, if you can spot it.

We didn’t take the Extraterrestrial Highway this time; instead we headed on to the Lunar Crater Volcanic Field.

This land was littered with ancient volcanoes. Some were very large, like the one in this picture, and some were nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the basin.

The road took us on the edge of this crater. When a dirt road takes you to such an epic place there’s really only one logical thing to do. We were camping here.

We hiked to the highest point on the edge of this volcano and enjoyed the scenery. Can you see the tiny dot that is our camp?

There wasn’t much distance left to cover to get to our next destination. We had fun taking it slow and posing in unique places. Luckily the road to Great Basin National Park was a lot nicer than what’s seen here.

Great Basin National Park

by Sam the Other Bean

September 2nd, 2022

As you may recall, when Kes and I visited Great Basin National Park back in March we had big plans to explore some of the lesser known parts of the park. Unfortunately our visit coincided with a massive winter storm, which dumped several inches of snow on camp and even more at higher elevations. The roads we had planned on taking were impassable and dangerous, and so our plans were put on hold for the time being.

This was one of those changes in plans that never sat well with me. After all, exploring this part of Great Basin National Park was something I’d planned on doing during the Gap Year long ago. Luckily this first visit wasn’t the only shot Kes and I had at seeing this vision through. Now that it was late summer there was really no better time to rewrite this chapter of the Gap Year.

I wouldn’t have told myself this back in March, but I’m actually glad things worked out the way they did. Even if we had made it to the top of the road during that visit, there was no way we could’ve done much more than sit in the Jeep up there. But now that it was nice and balmy, especially at higher elevations, the world was our oyster. You can bet that I had big plans to make the most of this trip.

Our plan was to drive an old mining road from where we were camped, at about 6,000 feet, to near the top of Mount Washington, which sits at a whopping 11,658 feet. Along the way we would pass an old mining town fit with several mines, as well as an ancient Bristlecone Pine forest near the top. To give perspective on just how crazy this road is, in less than 10 miles we would be going from the barren valley floor, through several layers of vegetation ranging from juniper to Bristlecone Pine, and actually rise above the treeline on the other side. And that was only the beginning.

Once at the top we would gear up for a traverse along the mountain’s ridge. Following the ridge we would eventually arrive at Baker Lake, where we would spend the night before heading back the next day. There would be no established trails the entire length of the trip and the chance of seeing somebody else during the entire trip was minimal.

I couldn’t be more psyched.

We had driven up more than half the mountain when we officially entered Great Basin National Park. I think it’s so awesome that Great Basin allows visitors to travel this road - after all, there’s not many national parks with an entrance sign that looks like this.

Another sight I didn’t think I’d ever see - my Jeep next to my favorite tree.

After about an hour of driving we had made it to the top. The views up here were some of the best I’d ever seen. It probably helped knowing that we had driven all the way up from the bottom of that valley.

We actually parked a short distance from the very top of Mt. Washington. There’s a faint road that leads to the very top, but I just didn’t feel comfortable leaving the Jeep on the tippy top of a mountain for a full 24 hours.

From the top of Mt. Washington we could clearly see the traverse we would be taking. The peak to the left is Wheeler Peak, the highest peak in Nevada at 13,065 feet. We were not heading there; instead, we were heading towards the peak in the left center of the picture. This is Pyramid Peak, which clocks in at 11,926 feet. To get there we’d have to follow the ridge of the mountain the entire length.

The view from Mt. Washington was spectacular no matter the direction.

Getting down Mt. Washington was actually the sketchiest part of the entire traverse. The grade was extremely steep and covered with scree (loose rock). Each footstep had to be chosen carefully, as a fall would result in certain death.

We both made it down safely and were rewarded with this awesome Bristlecone Pine Grove. Of all the groves in the park, this one is likely one of the least visited. I’m not sure how old the trees are here, but they are surely thousands of years old.

In the distance you can see Mt. Washington. Unfortunately the traverse forced us to hike up just as much as we hiked down. Sidenote: doesn't Kes look epic in this photo?

While not quite as bad as going down Mt. Washington, there were several other sections that came close.

Eventually we made it to Baker Lake with lots of daylight to spare. Two things were funny about arriving at the lake. First, we had spent a lot of effort actually hiking closer to civilization, not further away as is typical when backpacking. Second, when we got to the lake we saw many large orange signs warning us that the water was nonpotable due to an administered pesticide treatment.

Realizing, rather abruptly, that there was no drinking water was definitely not funny in the moment. In fact I was about this close (put pointer finger and thumb firmly together) to ignoring the risks and filling up my Camelbak with the water anyways. I’m thankful Kes didn’t let me, and I’m thankful fate intervened. By some stroke of luck we had passed a very small seep from the rocks just a few hundred yards back that would suffice for our needs. Looking back I think this experience is funny because it would have been very easy to look online and realize this treatment was happening, and I’m sure the normal trailheads were filled with warnings. Only somebody like Kes and I would come here in a manner that circumvents all typical methods of notification.

After pitching the tent and fixing our water situation, Kes and I were able to enjoy the trip like we normally would.

The way back was much more difficult than the way in, but eventually we came across this beautiful sight. There really is nothing better than seeing your car after a grueling backpacking trip.

Despite several minor hiccups, I would call our second trip to Great Basin National Park a resounding success. Not only had we made it to the top of Mt. Washington, which was our original goal, but we had taken it a step further by completing an absolutely epic traverse across much of the range. Of all the experiences we’ve had on the road, this one might just take the cake for the most fulfilling.

Las Vegas, Nevada

September 6th, 2022

by Sam the Other Bean

Our time roaming Nevada as we wished had come to an end at Great Basin. However, there was still one place we had to visit before leaving the state entirely. Ever since the very conception of the Gap Year, Kes and I had agreed that Las Vegas would be the final blowout of the year. Now that we were only a few hours away from Las Vegas, it was finally hitting me that this amazing year was quickly coming to an end.

Thinking back on Las Vegas brings up a lot of emotions in me. Of course there’s sadness, but mostly I feel proud that Kes and I had seen our vision for the Gap Year through in its entirety. That’s exactly what we made Las Vegas about too; the few days we spent there were for celebrating our accomplishment and nothing more.

Before going to Las Vegas Kes and I spent a day at the nearby Valley of Fire State Park. I could say a lot about this park, but for now I’ll just say that the title ‘Valley of Fire’ is well earned.

We did as much as we could during the day we were there, including a couple short hikes. The temperature during our visit was well above 110 F, so doing anything more would have been painful and dangerous.

Still, Kes and I saw a lot of cool areas including this petrified forest.

We also hiked this trail into a slot canyon. Along the way we saw foreigners with no hats and no water - clearly they were not accustomed to this sort of weather.

Apparently this entire park was formed from ancient sand dunes during the Jurassic Period nearly 150 million years ago! As inhospitable as this place may look, it’s actually been inhabited for millennia. People of the Basketmaker culture left petroglyphs here nearly 2500 years ago, and more recent occupation includes farmers from the 1800’s and tourists like myself in the modern age.

There was definitely no shortage of petroglyphs here.

Kes and I decided to camp in the park that night because why not. We were pretty much the only ones in the entire campground - I guess most normal people don’t like camping in 100 degree weather.

One of the good things about procrastinating going into the burning hot Teardrop was that we got to see this guy (a bighorn sheep) wander through camp. He got so close to us that Kes and I actually had to run behind cover, just in case he got mad!

The low for the night we spent at Valley of Fire was a smidge under 100 F. Even worse, a storm blew in that night and pelted us with high winds. Normally this would be a good thing, but here the wind was saturated with sand, meaning we had to sleep with the windows closed and the fan off. Kes and I agree that this night was the most difficult of the entire year. We survived, although we were a bit wilted and grumpy by the end of it. Unfortunately this would be a theme for the duration of our time in Las Vegas as well. (In case you're wondering, that's a wet T-shirt on Kes's head to "cool" her down).

Kes and I pretty much only had three goals for our time in Las Vegas. First, we wanted to visit Omega Mart, the third and final Meow Wolf installation. You may remember (but probably don’t) that Kes and I visited the Meow Wolf installation in Denver, Convergence Station, during our first week on the road. So, it only felt right to wrap up the Gap Year in the same way, and at the same time gain some bragging rights for having visited all three Meow Wolf installations.

If you haven’t been to Meow Wolf and have no idea what it is, there really is no good way to describe it. In a sentence Meow Wolf is an interactive art exhibit with an optional storyline.

Each Meow Wolf installation is unique and exciting in its own way, and Omega Mart is no different. However, for those of you that plan on visiting here in the future, I’ll say that Omega Mart was a little lacking and dumbed down compared to the others. Still, I’d give this place five stars.

Our second goal for Las Vegas was to celebrate the entire year the only way we know how: by eating. What better place is there to gorge yourself in an amazing buffet than in Sin City? In the past Kes and I would go to a Las Vegas buffet after spending a week at Black Rock. So, again, it only made sense for us to relive this tradition at the nicest buffet we could find, no holds barred.

We settled on the Wynn at Las Vegas, as this seemed to be the pinnacle of Las Vegas buffets. We were so hungry by the time we started eating that I wasn’t able to catch a picture of Kes pre-buffet with no food in her mouth.

Sometimes I wish Kes looked at me the way she looks at sweets.

Somehow Kes looked even better with her last plate than with her first! Meanwhile I was literally about to burst at the seams.

When in Vegas . . .

After the buffet Kes and I somehow rallied and made enough space in our stomachs to have a few drinks. In particular I love this photo from the night, which shows Kes entering a classic prohibition-style bar while holding a classic Vegas-style walking drink.

With two of our main goals completed, there was really only one other activity we had in mind for our visit. Being well into our 20s, Kes and I felt that it was about time we actually tried our hand at gambling. We were able to scrounge up a few dollars, and with that we headed to the nearest casino to throw them away.

Out of everything Kes and I have done during the Gap Year, I don’t think I’ve ever felt as discombobulated as I did walking into that casino. All of the flashing lights I typically ignore were shoved in my face, and every machine seemed like a planet’s understanding away. Eventually we settled on a penny slot machine that had the fewest buttons and lights, in the corner of the casino.

It comes as no surprise that about 30 minutes later Kes and I emerged $10 poorer. Luckily losing money is not what comes to mind when I think of this memory. What comes to mind is all the laughter Kes and I shared trying to navigate the completely foreign situation we had put ourselves in, or the confused look on Kes’s face as she tried to figure out what buttons did what. I wouldn’t be quick to go back to a casino, but I have no regrets of shooting our shot while we were there.

I felt as though the Gap Year was wrapping up exactly how and when it should, which is something I never thought I’d say. Fortunately the Gap Year wasn’t ending immediately after we left Las Vegas. We were still a long way from home, and we still had one more national park to visit before our goal of seeing all of the national parks in the lower 48 was complete.

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Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, Colorado

by Kes the Photobean

September 14th, 2022

After exactly one year and a day of living on the road, we finally reached the moment Sam and I have been waiting for.

On this day we visited our 51st and final national park in the lower 48 states: Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park.

With sheer cliff walls steeper than those of the Grand Canyon, the Black Canyon is so named because sunlight has such a difficult time reaching into the depths of the canyon. Pink ribbons of feldspar wind up the sheer walls, creating a natural 1,000 foot mural.

A rare stretch of sunlight warms the river below.

When we entered the gates to the park, I couldn’t stop smiling. I didn’t care that the weather was cold and wet, I was just proud of us for finally reaching this milestone. However, the catch was bittersweet: we finally crossed off our last national park.

Of course, we didn’t let the prospect of going home next week stop us from having fun.

The Gunnison River cuts through the Black Canyon much like the feldspar cuts through the igneous rock walls.

Believe it or not, you can actually hike down to the river from the top of the canyon. There aren’t even official trails, just approximations on how to get down. For these reasons, we definitely weren’t going to tackle that adventure during this visit. Instead, we took the relaxed route of exploration and drove along the scenic road, blasting old 50’s tunes all the while.

Fun fact: Black Canyon wasn’t supposed to be our last national park of the Gap Year. While originally planning our route, we meant to visit during the spring. However, we shifted our plans around when we heard that there was still a lot of snow in April. With that being said, I’m actually glad that we waited to visit this park until the end. Although Black Canyon of the Gunnison is absolutely a wonderful and worthwhile park, there aren’t a ton of things to do there.

That’s just to say we enjoyed a lot of free time at camp during our three day visit.

I immediately lost count on how many times we played Yahtzee. It’s just so much fun relaxing and chatting while at camp, our only worries centered around the next dice roll.

I’m glad we got so much free time as we neared closer and closer to the end. This time together doing nothing in particular really helped me reflect on the past year and my feelings about coming home.

To my surprise, I was actually excited to be back in New Mexico. After visiting all 50 states, I was shocked when I realized that I still think of New Mexico as my true home. Everytime I found myself thinking about being back, I caught myself looking forward to life off the road.

To be close to friends and family.

To focus on the next project.

To reacquaint myself with my favorite state.

Although I’m certain I could live the nomadic life for many more years in the future, for now, I was ready to settle down in one place.

It didn’t hurt that my bank account was finally looking a little worse for wear.

After leaving the Black Canyon, we didn’t go straight home. Before we could finally say goodbye to the Gap Year, we had one more thing to do, something that has been in the back of our minds since the very beginning.

Next stop? The place where it all started.

This time, we weren’t going to be late.

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Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado

by Kes the Photobean

September 18th, 2022

Our last campsite was also our first. How poetic is that?

We knew deep down that we wanted our last night in the Teardrop to be special. It only makes sense to end a fantastic year where it all began.

Thankfully we didn’t have to accept the end just yet. We had one more thing to cross off the to-do list, and we were going to take our time getting there.

Remember our first day on the Gap Year? Sam and his dad were still working on getting the Teardrop road-ready the morning we left. With prolonged goodbyes and last minute tasks, we left just an hour too late. For all our time spent planning such a large trip, our first oversight was scheduling a tour on the day we left. We entered the gates of the park right as the Ranger began to lead our group through the alcove houses. Oops.

At the time, we were a little upset. But we made the most of our time in the park, and I’m honestly a little thankful that we missed that initial tour. In place of seeing a lot of one site, we ran around the mesas reading and ingesting as much information as humanly possible. We got our first real taste of the Gap Year in that moment.

You can tell this photo was taken a year ago because Sam’s hair is so short!

This initial visit to Mesa Verde set the tone for the rest of the year, at least for me. After learning about the Ancestral Puebloans, I searched for native history wherever we went. Learning about North America’s first peoples taught me about a side of history that was rarely emphasized for me in school. I’m ashamed to admit I never fully grasped how many different tribes and cultures thrived on the continent before this past year. That’s not all I learned, though. By looking at how people lived before Europeans discovered the continent, I gained a better understanding of how this beautiful country looked at its most untamed. Now I find myself looking at the land around me, asking myself how to apply these lessons in order to help nature thrive once again.

This is just the tip of the iceberg of knowledge I’ve accrued over the past year. I learned about Geology in Utah, about the life of dinosaurs in Texas, about the importance of water in Florida and California.

I also learned about the lives of my fellow Americans. About the lives they live and how differently that life can look from one end of a state to the other. Now I understand how differently your outlook on the world can be depending on which side of the Mississippi you live on.

We’ve talked to so many different people throughout the country, it’s hard to keep them all straight. In the beginning, I actually started to keep a little notepad of names so I could remember each person we met along the way. I gave up after the third month, there were just too many people to keep track of. That being said, I cherish each moment with these strangers. From coast to coast, we’ve probably met over 100 people, each with vastly different opinions and life experiences. We have the Teardrop to thank for being such a great conversation starter.

In today’s day and age, it’s so easy to place people in the boxes that we’ve made for them. Throughout the many conversations we’ve shared, some harder than others, I’ve learned one absolute truth: we all share a common ground. Whether it is the simple love of camping or family, or it’s a deeper consensus of world views, I bet we could agree on at least one thing with even the craziest people. This past year has challenged me to look for these commonalities that we share, and I’m thankful for such an opportunity.

Now, where were we again?

There are a lot of emotions shoved into this photo. You can see that we’re happy, proud of ourselves and accomplishments. But at the same time there’s a sprinkling of sadness thrown in.

We set up our very last campsite a couple days before our tour. You know, to make extra sure that we would make it this time. In the meantime, we revisited a few hikes in the park, spent time at camp, and cooked some amazing meals. It’s funny how normal these last days of the Gap Year felt.

I miss eating outside everyday . . . featuring a Topo Chico beer gifted to us by a fellow camper.

I also miss when it was hot enough to sweat like that on a hike.

I’m laughing at myself right now because, looking through my phone, I don’t even have many photos of those days leading up to our last. At the time, I must have really wanted to enjoy myself without worrying about pictures for the blog.

For once, I can’t blame Past Kes. I’d still do the same.

Finally, it’s time for what we’ve been waiting all year for: the tour.

Listening to the podcast Mesa Verde Voices taught me a lot about why people built in these alcoves.

Ancestral Puebloans only started moving from the top of the mesas into the alcoves 100 years before the sites were abandoned.

With societal pressure from droughts, poor harvests, and social unrest, droves of people were leaving the mesa tops for neighboring valleys well before the alcove sites were built.

Those who refused to leave were the ones who moved into the cliffsides.

Even they had to go, eventually. Some of those that left migrated to the Rio Grande Valley in New Mexico. The clans and families who settled there would become the pueblos that I grew up around.

Like that, we were done. No amount of lingering and feet dragging could stop the sun from sinking lower in the sky. It didn’t hit me until I saw the explosion of color shoot across the sky, painting the distant mesas a soft pink.

One final sunset during one last meal.

I’ll admit that I didn’t expect to cry, but I couldn’t help myself. Transitions are the worst part of change.

This chapter of my life has been one bursting at the seams with personal growth, challenging situations, and love. Oh, so much love.

Without Sam, the absolute best travel buddy, this year would have stayed a pipe dream. I’m really proud to say that spending 24/7 with each other did not end in murder. Instead, the Gap Year gave me homework, and now I have to plan a wedding.

I still have no idea what to do with all these polaroids. They’re still in the Teardrop, waiting to make us jealous of ourselves.

My tears dried quickly enough. This book may be closing, but the sequel is begging to be written. The Gap Year may be over, but I’ll never truly be done with it. I’ve been through too much, seen and felt and heard too many wonderful and terrible things to forget this year. Whether I wanted to change or not, I really had no choice. I'm leaving the Gap Year a different person, better and more well rounded in so many different ways. I’m excited to apply what I’ve learned to my new life in the real world. I have so many ideas that it’s honestly a little stressful, but I’m so excited to set them in motion.

Our last meal, the perfect end to a perfect year.

With all that being said, I want to thank you.

Thank you for taking the time to follow our adventures and travel with us in spirit. My one goal going into the Gap Year was to write about our time on the road, no matter how hard it got. I have a hard time following through with things, and I knew this was going to be a huge challenge for me. Without the blog, I would have gone crazy with boredom. With the blog, I went crazy for entirely different reasons, but it was totally worth it.

Having you to write for, dear reader, has been such a pleasure. I really don’t think we could have accomplished such an in depth record of the Gap Year without someone else holding us accountable. Thanks to you, I edited 1,883 photos and wrote 33 posts with Sam. Thousands of hours have gone into this blog, and every minute was worth the pain.

Thank you for encouraging us to follow wherever the road takes us.

Thank you for following along every step of this life-changing year.

Thank you for your endless support.

Thank you for everything.

I can’t wait to write for you again.

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Author’s Note

I bet you thought you were done with me! Well, not so fast, I still have some questions for you.

By the time this has been posted, we’ve been living that post Gap Year life for nearly 3 months now. During that time, our friends and family have asked us plenty of questions about our experiences on the road, and I wanted to give you the courtesy of asking your own.

So, please, if you’re at all curious about any aspect of our Gap Year, big or small, don’t hesitate to ask. From planning logistics to how many Netflix shows we watched, you can ask anything you want. You can interrogate one or the both of us, it’s entirely up to you.

Oh, did I mention the catch?

For those who decide to participate in our Gap Year Q&A session, you’ll be entered in a random drawing for a free mystery print of one of my photos! As I slowly work towards photography as a side hustle, I have some matted prints that are ready to find themselves a new home.

You can submit your questions to me one of three ways:

• by commenting on this post

• by emailing me at kesthephotobean@gmail.com

• by messaging me on my instagram account @thephotobean

Whichever way you want to send your thoughts is up to you! But each person who asks a question will be entered in the drawing only once, regardless of how many questions you submit.

To be eligible in the drawing for a free print, I only ask that you subscribe to my mailing list. This helps me keep in touch with you in case there are any updates in life or photography that you’d want to be aware of. Like, perhaps, when I finally set up an online store or announce a secret project ;)

If you’re already subscribed, then lucky you!

This is my way of thanking you, once again, for joining us on this wild ride.

I look forward to seeing what questions you have in store for us!

Until we chat again,

Kes the Photobean