After crossing the clay-flooded entryway from the torrential storm the day before, I had finally entered Goosenecks State Park. It was a sweeping view.

….this small park affords impressive views of one of the most striking examples of an entrenched river meander on the North American continent. The San Juan River twists and turns, flowing a distance of over six miles while advancing one and a half miles west on its way to Lake Powell.

Along the perimeter of the canyon were tiny outlines of campers and RVs, parked for rest and a waypoint for hiking. The river’s direction increasingly meandered through the pressure of time. All streams inevitably do this, as the nature of water is to find a way.

From the edge, seeing everything lets you appreciate it beyond the unblemished line from long ago.

I had arrived in south east Utah, at the San Juan Inn. It’s off of the 163 where the San Juan River snakes through the desert. I started the day off with a cup of coffee, and noticed that the water line seemed a bit high and muddy. The person working in the kitchen informed me that there was a flash flood the day before, the worst they had seen in months, and to be cautious as sections of roadway had washed out due to the clay soil and sand.

Taking the warning into consideration, the exploration was on its way. The first place I stopped by was the rock formation the area was named after, Mexican Hat Rock.

The Hat Rock measures 60-foot (18 m) wide by 12-foot (3.7 m). The "Hat" has two rock climbing routes ascending it.

Hiking to the underside revealed the unusual balance and weathering pattern that resulted in the flat circular disk balanced on the ziggurat-like foundation supporting it.

Afterwards, I starting heading to Goosenecks State Park. It seemed the advice from the person at the kitchen was accurate. A 50 yard section of the road to the entryway was washed out and caked in a slippery sheet of mud. Giant chunks of asphalt were strewn to the left downhill and downstream.

The soil was still precarious and soft, but the all-wheel drive got me to the other side ok. Sometimes if the destination is intriguing enough, you will take the risk to get there.

The Four Corners Monument represents the only point in the US shared by four states: Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona. It also represents the boundary between the Navajo and Ute Nations. The atmosphere was active late morning. It seemed the weather from Bisti Wilderness was tracking in the same direction.

As I kept west into southern Utah / northern Arizona along Route 160 and 163, the sky shifted hue and intensity, undulating through every color in the spectrum. The soil permutated from rich browns and farmlands to deep reds and time-sculpted mesas. To compliment the changes in scenery I listened to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.

By evening I had arrived in Mexican Hat, filled with appreciation for the day’s cinescopic experience.

Driving west through the Four Corners region on Route 64, I scanned south and noticed something otherworldly. It interrupted the horizon line, piercing upward like a cluster of spires. While not architected, it is a Ship Rock, having spiritual significance to the Navajo tribes of the land.

The Ship Rock landform, located in northwestern New Mexico, is the remnant of an explosive volcanic eruption that occurred around 30 million years ago. The main part of the landform is 600 meters high, and 500 meters in diameter. Ship Rock, known as Tse Bitai, or "the winged rock" in Navajo, is a volcanic neck, or the central feeder pipe of larger volcanic landform which has since eroded away. The neck is composed of fractured volcanic rock, or breccia, crosscut by many thin veins of lava.

Here’s another photo a few miles closer. Things that are different have a way of drawing attention at a distance.

This was a day of hiking the Bisti De-Na-Zin Wilderness Area. As soon as you pull off the main road it becomes a one lane, unpaved dirt path. Several miles into the desert unique rock formations started appearing everywhere.

Time and natural elements have etched a fantasy world of strange rock formations made of interbedded sandstone, shale, mudstone, coal, and silt. The weathering of the sandstone forms hoodoos - weathered rock in the form of pinnacles, spires, cap rocks, and other unusual forms. Fossils occur in this sedimentary landform. Translated from the Navajo language, Bisti (Bis-tie) means "a large area of shale hills." De-Na-Zin (Deh-nah-zin) takes its name from the Navajo words for "cranes."

At the end of the roadway, I arrived at the entrance to the exploration area. The caution on the gate and barbed wire fencing was clear, as were the additional road signs warning of impassability during floods. I pulled the chain off the gate lock and proceeded on foot.

The rock formations took on new silhouettes, casting long shadows onto the packed sand and dried flood plains. The dark peppering of the coal mixed in with the lighter sediment created otherworldly and additional lowlights as the dry air, unencumbered by trees, pushed through the landscape. I looked south of my location over the cracked riverbed and could see storm clouds forming on the horizon.

The last section I hiked through saw the broken rock formations morph to shaded and topped, wind carved Hoodoos. I peeked around several of them wondering if I’d encounter a Tuskin Raider or Jawa Sand Crawler. The growing thunderheads and lighting flares in the distance told me that it was time to head back.

As I was packing up to go, I noticed two people with a canopy and asked if they needed help securing it to the ground. While doing so, I started talking to them about adventures in the wilderness, and they invited me to have a drink with them in the pull-out bar installed in the back of the 4Runner. We set up 3 lawn chairs, swapping stories while the storm rolled in. That was ok, though. Weather patterns are temporary. The company of others and shelter make it an enjoyable experience.

While navigating through Española and White Rock, I ended up conversing with a Pueblo woman about Ley Lines, and how a number of architecturally significant monuments are built on them. She recommended I check out a place nestled in the Sangre De Cristo Mountains before leaving the state. After driving for an afternoon through desert and twisting road, I arrived at Santuario de Chimayo.

El Santuario de Chimayo, a small shrine located in New Mexico, and near the path of the Old Spanish Trail, has been a place of worship since before its construction in 1813. For generations people of faith have traveled to the site of El Santuario to ask for healing for themselves and others, and to offer prayers of petition and of thanksgiving for favors received.

There were meandering pathways to wander for contemplation. The Chapel was still and calm, serving as a place to reflect on the journey to that point in space/time. On the northwest corner of the chapel was a statue honoring Fr. Casimiro Roca, who had served in the location for over 40 years.

Near the exit I noticed a large wooden gate with a fiery heart carved on the front. It made me think about paths outward complimenting paths inward, generating sparks of possibility.

Many scientists, philosophers, and writers attribute a walking or travel routine helpful for idea discovery, premise shaping, and axiom iteration. Learn to fall in love with each beat of the path, and a way will forge itself.

A park ranger gave us a tour around Ashley Pond, stopping at points of the walking loop to share visual aides and facts, diving deeper into atomic weapon development, the Uranium enrichment process, and espionage of Klaus Fuchs. Some folks on the tour were related to others who were part of the Manhattan Project, sharing additional anecdotes of storytelling.

About 2 blocks away northeast were former living quarters of those involved on-site. I stopped at the Hans Beth House, which had been converted into a small museum with artifacts and installations highlighting scientific minds like Frederick Reines, Harold Agnew, and Norris Bradbury. I’ve never stared that closely at a Nobel Prize.

Lastly and next door was the Oppenheimer House. The inside was not open to the public. The interior was preserved with furniture and set pieces tactfully placed for filming of the Christopher Nolan movie Oppenheimer. It is interesting to ponder that a nerve center during a critical juncture of a World War resided in a modest living room.

Ideas that impact the lives and futures of millions often started in a cluttered kitchen, dusty garage, or coffee stained diner table. Which means we all have the same inflection point to affect far more than we realize: to great good or great harm.

Los Alamos, the location of the Manhattan Project, was one of the 25 places I had on my original checklist in May. The scientific, historical, and social implications of the initiative are undeniable. And finally I had arrived….

In Los Alamos, New Mexico, Manhattan Project administrators found an ideal location for the secret laboratory where they designed and built the world’s first atomic weapons. During the Manhattan Project, Los Alamos became the home to many of the top scientific minds of the day: J. Robert Oppenheimer, Norris Bradbury, Richard Feynman, Hans Bethe, and many more luminaries.

Inside the visitor center were charts and archived images overviewing contributions by phases of development, the diverse disciplines drawn in, and collaborating locations across the US. There were several scientists in attendance to answer questions, who also work at Los Alamos National Labratory in the physics and engineering departments.

The Park Ranger at the visitor center introduced us to her husband, a highly knowledgeable physicist explaining further details of nuclear fission and the Trinity Tower test site, where the first atomic bomb was detonated. I have mixed feelings and thoughts with complicated subjects like this. I do, however, think it’s important to educate ourselves on details from the experts, especially in an age where toolsets rival Prometheun Fire.

For the next diary entry, I will cover my tour of Ashley Pond, Hans Bethe House, and finally Oppenheimer’s House.

Rinconada Canyon is a several mile hike through a desert area surrounded by low-rolling hills and etched rock formations. This was one of the warmer outings, with temperatures around 105 degrees fahrenheit earlier in the day.

Petroglyph National Monument protects one of the largest petroglyph sites in North America, featuring designs and symbols carved onto volcanic rocks by Native Americans and Spanish settlers 400 to 700 years ago. These images are a valuable record of cultural expression and hold profound spiritual significance for contemporary Native Americans and for the descendants of the early Spanish settlers.

Riconada has a mixture of imagery from Indigenous Peoples of the area, as well as Spanish Sheepherders and Farmhands hundreds of years later. Here are some of the later markings from the 1900’s.

Further down the path, I walked by several clusters of Petroglyphs created by Ancestral Pueblo, with the largest grouping at the mid-point of the trail loop.

Leaving pictograms on objects of permanence is a reflex of our species. Everything we draw from and on is an information relay of sorts. It’s interesting to think what marks we make now will carry into the future. What from 2024 will become the folklore of 3024?

Valles Caldera National Preserve hosts one of the most impressive open meadow spaces amid high altitude forests and peaks of 8,000 to 12,000 feet. It is located in the Jemez Mountains of north-central New Mexico.

This 88,900-acre park encompasses almost all of the volcanic caldera created by a spectacular volcanic eruption about 1.2 million years ago. The caldera is dormant, but not extinct, and still displays signs of volcanic life with hot springs and boiling sulphuric acid fumaroles.

The drive through State Road 4 south of the Caldera and Redondo Peak meanders through camp sites, trailheads, and vista points. I parked to have lunch while overlooking the tree line.

The descending environment transmogrified as the forest opened up to miles of grassland sculpted by magma and explosions millennia ago….

… and finally the arrival into the valley. I got out of my car and hiked around in the open plain for several hours. It was in the high 90s at the beginning of the drive at lower altitude, cooling about 20 degrees to a more temperate climate.

Valleys are often used as a way of describing the lowest points on a path. In this case, it was elevated above areas around the Preserve, serving as a unique ecosystem for life, as well as a place of reflection. What if we were able to see our valleys the same? Although they are often discomforting, there is a teaching role they play on roads traveled.

The Museum of International Folk Art houses the permanent exhibit of Alexander Girard with over 10,000 toys and figurines from around the world. It’s one of the most extensive collections of its kind. As a toy and product maker, my mind was blown seeing it in person. Anyone that works in the development or design fields should visit for culture, education, and inspiration.

Multiple Visions: A Common Bond has been the destination for well over a million first-time and repeat visitors to the Museum of International Folk Art. First, second, third, or countless times around, we find our gaze drawn by different objects, different scenes.

Just as impressive as the collection are the elaborate dioramas the characters are arranged in. The museum staff mentioned that Alexander and one other assistant spent 3-4 years painstakingly setting up each display in immaculate detail.

This one is remarkable for a reason that isn’t as obvious at a glance. The sculptures vary in size from about 1” in the background to the 7”- 8” in the foreground. It enhances a depth and drama to the storytelling that wouldn’t exist otherwise.

To take a Google 360 virtual tour of the exhibit, go here.

For the second part of the hike at Bandelier National Monument, I was encouraged by the Park Rangers to visit Alcove House. It was about a mile further on the trail separate from the other cliff dwellings.

I did not anticipate was how high 140 feet up a cliff wall would look. There were 4 sets of ladders, each tilted about 60-70 degrees against the hot sandstone wall leading to the home at the rim of the divide. 😳

I experience vertigo at certain heights, and saw no failsafes if one were to slip while ascending. No turning back now, right? After putting on headphones with tranquil music, the ascent proceeded, one careful maneuver at a time. Looking up or down would freak me out, so I fixed my gaze straight ahead at the rock wall scrolling down with each step up a rung of the ladder. 1, 2, 3, 4… synced to the ambient drum track in my ears.

Finally I was at the top in the Alcove House, enjoying the breeze, and looking over the canyon for 10-15 minutes. It was worth the struggle to get there.