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America's most interesting national parks

I’ve long been fascinated by US National Parks. At the top of my list are Zion, Bryce Canyon and the Grand Canyon National Parks. Here’s why these are my favourite USA National Parks. Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona John Wesley Powell, an early explorer of the American West credited with leading the first group of Europeans down the Colorado River through the Canyon, wrote: “The wonders of the Grand Canyon cannot be adequately represented in symbols of speech, nor by speech itself.” After cycling for hours down a dusty track to reach a remote viewpoint over the Grand Canyon’s North Rim called Toroweap Overlook I have to agree. The stupendous view leaves me speechless. And to have this jumble of volcanic cinder cones and lava flows on the edge of one of the world’s great natural wonders virtually to myself is especially wonderful. Stratum upon stratum of multi-hued rock lies stacked beneath me. Dating back over two billion years, they reveal more dramatically than anywhere else on Earth how our world was formed, while two miles below, the Colorado River snakes through the gorge, carving ever deeper into this iconic symbol of the American Southwest. Zion National Park, Utah World famous for its massive rock walls of red and white Navajo sandstone that rise over 610 metres from the desert floor, Zion National Park is a canyon oasis of astounding natural beauty. Meaning ‘heavenly city’ in the vernacular of Utah’s predominant Mormons, Zion is a breathtaking blend of high plateaus, sheer canyons, and monolithic cliffs. These sheer walls were carved by decades of wind, rain, ice and the waters of the Virgin River. Once there, I soon discover that getting my feet wet is the best way to explore Zion’s most popular backcountry. In an area called the Narrows, you can explore a slot canyon which is significantly deeper than it is wide. Here, the North Fork Virgin River runs beneath thousand-foot walls of Navajo sandstone sculpted by thousands of years of erosion into some of the most beautiful rock formations in all of the American Southwest. Bryce Canyon National Park, Utah This park’s spectacular natural amphitheatres contain the world’s largest collection of hoodoos — thin, flame-coloured limestone spires protruding from arid badlands that can rise as high as a ten-storey building. Spread over many miles, they resemble a ‘silent city’ of stone. I discover that the best way to experience Bryce’s natural wonders is on foot. More than sixty miles of trails weave through the canyon’s maze of sunburnt stone hoodoos. As I amble along the popular Navajo Loop Trail, I encounter famous hoodoos with names like Three Wise Men, Indian Princess, The Rabbit and even ET. The Palute Indians who once hunted here were the first to describe Bryce’s Hoodoos in anthropomorphic terms. Bringing fairy chimneys and goblins to mind, they still fire the imagination. Other popular US National Parks: Olympic National Park, Washington From its wild beaches to its lush, mossy rainforest and rugged, glacier-capped mountains, the park’s diverse habitats are ideal for adventurous travellers looking for a little bit of everything. It’s really three parks in one. Lofty mountains offer plenty of snow and glaciers. It’s lush, verdant Hoh Rainforest is home to Roosevelt elk, black bears and other distinctive wildlife. And its rugged coastline has miles of wild, deserted beaches sprinkled with sea stacks and tide pools. Nowhere else in America will you find three such entirely different worlds to be experienced within one park. Glacier National Park, Montana Nicknamed the Crown of the Continent because the water flows from it all the way to the Pacific Ocean, the Gulf of Mexico, and to Hudson’s Bay, Glacier National Park straddles the Canada–United States border. An untouched wilderness of ancient forests, deep valleys and spectacular alpine scenery, the park is a paradise for hikers and trekkers. It also contains more than 130 pristine lakes and hundreds of species of animals, including Grizzly bears, mountain goats and moose, mountain goats, wolverines and Canadian lynxes. Popular activities include backpacking, cycling and camping. Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming Named for the tallest mountain in the Teton Range, this national park is famous for its distinctive jagged granite pinnacles, numerous lakes, abundant wildlife, and historic barns and homesteads. A popular destination for mountaineering and hiking, Grand Teton is also a world-renowned trout-fishing destination and is one of the few places where anglers can catch Snake River fine-spotted cutthroat trout. Denali National Park and Preserve, Alaska America’s largest national park, Denali is named after America’s tallest mountain, 6,190 metre-high Denali (formerly known as Mount McKinley). It’s six million acres of wilderness includes tundra, spruce forest and glaciers. Denali is home to grizzly bears, wolves, moose, caribou and Dall sheep. In spring, summer and fall you can bike, hike and mountaineer. In winter try snowshoeing, snowmobiling and skiing in the park’s rugged mountains and high Alpine tundra. Denali’s remoteness and strict protection of its wildlife habitat and ecosystems ensure that this arctic gem remains pristine. Written by Mark Sissons. Republished with permission of <a href="https://www.mydiscoveries.com.au/stories/america-s-most-interesting-national-parks/">MyDiscoveries</a>.

International Travel

Rob Roy Glacier: Exploring a truly enchanted land

Travel writer Justine Tyerman is in love with a rugged Scot called Rob Roy… Rob Roy Glacier is like a magnet to me. We’ve hiked the track in high summer under a sun-bleached sky, wearing only shorts and T-shirts - grateful for the dappled shade of the beech forest canopy; and in full winter tramping gear as fat snowflakes drift down from a low, slate-grey ceiling… hungry for glimpses of the glacier through wisps of mist and snow flurries. We have even trudged up the track in the rain, when tendril waterfalls join forces to become angry, swollen cataracts… such is the allure of the glacier. But our favourite time is when the valley is dressed in silver crystals after a June hoar frost and our boots crunch through stiff white tussock and over concrete moss. The river is ice-green foam and the spray freezes on our eyelashes and brows and transforms bearded men into Santa Clauses. Where the meagre early winter sunshine penetrates the steep-sided gorge, the air sparkles with dazzling diamond filaments and your breath becomes a visible thing, hanging in little puffy clouds like cartoon speech bubbles. When our girls and their holiday cousins were little, they believed they were in an enchanted land, and it was easy to keep them skipping and dancing up the steep track, eager to discover what magic lay around the next corner. They half expected to see Aslan and the White Witch. Icicle swords droop from overhanging rocks as if guarding fairy grottos below and small waterfalls and ponds are frozen in time. Common-place spider webs and ferns become works of art in silver filigree, demanding that we stop and stare in wonder. But we dare not linger for more than a few minutes for fear of freezing solid like the landscape… or victims of the White Witch. By early afternoon, the sun is brilliant against a sharp blue sky but there is no warmth where it touches and nothing thaws. You hear the rushing waters of the Rob Roy stream far below in a deep ravine long before you see the glacier-fed cascade. I listen intently, trying to put the sound into words. It’s the noisy hiss of static as you tune your radio, but with an underlying conversational gurgle, burble or chortle . . . and then a deafening booming roar as the gorge narrows and the water fights to be first through the gap in the rocks. <img src="https://oversixtydev.blob.core.windows.net/media/7266668/1_500x353.jpg" alt="1 (72)" width="500" height="353" /> Justine heading up the track in mid-summer. Image credit: Justine Tyerman As we climb higher, the glacier is visible in snatches through the forest canopy and flimsy waterfalls tumble in tiers from the mountain ridges. It becomes a game to trace and time a mass of spray from where it topples over the frozen ledge to the rocks far below. It is impossible to take in the full height of the mountains towering above unless you lie on your back on the ground. The last part of the track takes us over and around truck-sized boulders carelessly discarded by the glacier as it retreated up the mountain side to its present-day precarious home, clinging to a rock face below Rob Roy Peak. We are spellbound again as if it were our first not seventh or eighth trek to the lookout. Under a heavy mantle of snow, the cold blue gleam of the glacier face is blindingly bright… and mesmerisingly beautiful. In the spring or summer thaw, huge slabs of ice on the terminal face lose the fight against gravity and warming temperatures and thunder down the valley in a white cloud. ... an awesome sight, even from a safe vantage point. <img src="https://oversixtydev.blob.core.windows.net/media/7266667/in-text-two_500x375.jpg" alt="In Text Two." width="500" height="375" /> A kea or alpine parrot against the stunning backdrop of the Rob Roy Glacier. Image credit: <a rel="noopener" href="http://www.ecowanaka.co.nz/" target="_blank">www.ecowanaka.co.nz</a> With our Leki hiking sticks, sturdy tramping boots, all-weather Goretex jackets and layers of fine merino and possum, high energy snacks, emergency survival gear and 4WD vehicle waiting at the carpark, we modern hikers are as safe and warm and well-prepared as we can be. I reflect back on an expedition made over 100 years ago by English explorer Maud Moreland who ventured up the Matukituki Valley in a horse-drawn dray and climbed up to the glacier in a long skirt and leather boots…long before DoC built a swing bridge over the river and cut a well-formed track around the cliff faces, slips and boulders. In 1908, she wrote: We were now at the entrance of a gorge that looked as if the mountains had been cleft by some terrific force: on one side they rose black and precipitous with trees clinging wherever they could find a little soil but generally they were sheer walls of rock. On our side the mountains were clothed to within a few hundred feet of the top with dense bush. Leaving the horses tied below we began a toilsome ascent through a belt of tutu – a stout herb growing as high as our shoulders. This bit was very steep, followed by a belt of fern, then across screeds of slate, shale and faces of bare rock with only cracks for footholds when we clung by our fingertips. The heat grew greater every moment and the glare from the rocks scorched us and made us terribly thirsty as we worked our way from gully to gully. After a tedious climb we at last saw the head of the gorge – a wonderful sight on which not many eyes have gazed. It is closed by a semi circle of cliffs, precipitous and black. And wedged as it were between three mountain peaks lies an enormous glacier. Not a long river of ice, but a mighty mass of ice, breaking off sharp at the top of the stupendous peaks. Maud gazed at the glacier one summer day over a century ago, as transfixed by the sight as we are today, searching for words to express the exquisite beauty and power of the vision before her. Our efforts seem trivial next to hers. Knees turn to jelly on the long trek back down to the car, the steep descent made even more treacherous as we walk forwards but look backwards for fear of missing a view we have not seen on the way up. The swing bridge over the Matukituki River seems higher and longer than earlier in the day as I contrive without success to cross it without the added excitement of friends (male) making it even swingier. <img src="https://oversixtydev.blob.core.windows.net/media/7266666/in-text-three_499x665.jpg" alt="In Text Three (2)" width="499" height="665" /> Waterfalls cascade from the cliffs with Rob Roy Glacier in the background. Image credit: www.ecowanaka.co.nz Back at the carpark, the temperature is minus 3 and as we drive back to Wanaka in our cosy JUCY 4WD, the fast retreating sun stains the snowy mountain tops pink. We stop at a tiny pebbled beach near Glendu Bay and watch the shimmering pathway shrink to a sliver and disappear as the winter sun puts on a final dazzling display of crimson fire before sliding behind Mt Aspiring/Tititea. There is silence as we store the memories in a safe place . . . until next time. The 10km track from the Raspberry Creek carpark to the Rob Roy Glacier lookout takes about 3-4 hours return. The glacier sits below the 2606m Rob Roy Peak named in early times after Scottish hero Rob Roy McGregor. It is said the figure of <a rel="noopener" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Roy_MacGregor" target="_blank">McGregor</a> showed on the rock and ice face of the mountain when seen from the Rob Roy Downs opposite the mouth of the Stream. The 50 - 60 minute, 54km drive to the start of the Rob Roy track is a highlight in its own right. The road skirts Lake Wanaka, passing by iconic Glendu Bay with postcard views of Mt Aspiring and the wispy waterfalls of Treble Cone. It follows the gin-clear Matukituki River up the valley, deep into the Mt Aspiring National Park, part of Te Wahipounamu UNESCO World Heritage site, known to the original Māori inhabitants as Te Wāi Pounamu - the greenstone waters. You can drive to the Raspberry Creek car park and hike to Rob Roy glacier independently or contact <a rel="noopener" href="/" target="_blank">Eco Wanaka Adventures</a> for a great guided trek, including lunch and transport from Wanaka. Transport: JUCY Rentals: <a rel="noopener" href="http://www.jucy.co.nz/" target="_blank">www.jucy.co.nz</a> Accommodation: Love Home Swap: <a rel="noopener" href="http://www.lovehomeswap.com/" target="_blank">www.lovehomeswap.com</a> Hero image credit: <a rel="noopener" href="http://www.ecowanaka.co.nz/" target="_blank">www.ecowanaka.co.nz</a>

Domestic Travel

Walking amongst mountains and glaciers at Mt Cook

Justine Tyerman is a New Zealand journalist, travel writer and sub-editor. Married for 36 years, she lives in rural surroundings near Gisborne on the East Coast of New Zealand with her husband Chris.In this piece, she finds one of the only flattish walks in the Aoraki-Mt Cook National Park. The ranger at the information centre gave me a peculiar look when I asked about flat walks in the area. "I don’t really do hills," I said to the impossibly-fit young fellow who looked as though he could sprint up Mt Cook before morning tea. Without displaying too much overt disdain at having to tear himself away from a real McCoy mountaineering pair who were seeking advice before setting off to tackle the Caroline Face with their crampons and ice-axes, he indicated that inferior species such as ourselves might like to attempt the hike up the Hooker Valley – apart from the walk from the carpark to the Hermitage, this was one of the few flat walks in Mt Cook National Park, which was, by definition, rather more full of mountains than flat places. Ignoring his scorn, we laced up our tramping boots, took up our day packs with survival gear just in case, grasped our walking sticks and headed for the track. We might have been mere day hikers but we were keen to look the part in this hearty alpine environment… as opposed to the Japanese ladies with their parasols and high heels and the Aussies with their jandals, or thongs as they call them. After we had successfully negotiated our way out of the carpark, we crossed a swing bridge, skirted around a cliff face on a well-formed track with safety rails, ambled up a wide valley with a profusion of wild flowers, along a board walk to protect the delicate eco-system, past a sobering memorial to all those who had gone beyond the flat walks and died trying to climb the peaks in the park… and then quite suddenly, we were in the presence of the almighty Aoraki, the Cloud Piercer – although there were no clouds to pierce that day. No matter how often we view her and from what angle, Mt Cook is a stunner. I had an overwhelming sense of spiritual ownership that Maori talk of when they refer to their maunga, their mountain. There are few places in the world where you can stroll through spectacular alpine terrain right to the foot of the country’s highest peaks in an hour or so without guides, oxygen and a team of sherpas or yaks carrying your life’s necessities for the next few months. Sitting at the foot of our mountain, eating our sandwiches in T-shirts and shorts on a clear summer day, we watched a group of elderly German hikers peel off, fold and carefully place every item of their clothing on a rock before donning swim suits for a dip in the Hooker Glacier lake, complete with icebergs. <img src="https://oversixtydev.blob.core.windows.net/media/36641/in-text_498x245.jpg" alt="In -text (2)" width="498" height="245" /> Justine at the glacier lake. Image credit: Justine Tyerman Hmmm… swimming with the icebergs. Not likely to catch on in a big way, but a fascinating spectator sport all the same. Pretending the water was not ridiculously cold seemed to be part of the ritual which they had evidently performed many times before around the world. As the only non-German, non-swimmers in the immediate vicinity, we were asked to be official photographers of the event. Sadly, we never thought to record it on our own camera. We couldn’t drag ourselves away from the national park that day and decided to pitch our wee tent just down the road at Glentanner camping ground where we could commune with Aoraki a while longer, and watch her in the splendour of sunset and sunrise. As the sun dropped behind Aoraki’s massive bulk painting the snow-topped peak pink and scarlet and gold, the view from our tent awning was far superior to even the best suite at The Hermitage. It gave us a smug sense of satisfaction… along with the exhilaration of having climbed to the dizzy height of at least 150 metres on our eight-kilometre flattish walk. Next day, I watched Aoraki, as I always do, until she dropped out of sight just beyond Lake Tekapo knowing we would see her again in her winter uniform a few months later. Justine Tyerman travelled courtesy of <a rel="noopener" href="http://www.lovehomeswap.com/" target="_blank">Love Home Swap</a> and <a rel="noopener" href="http://www.jucy.co.nz/" target="_blank">JUCY Rentals</a>.

Domestic Travel

Pianist delivers performance of a lifetime at crumbling glacier

An Italian pianist has delivered the performance of a lifetime at the Wahlenbergbreen glacier in Svalbard, Norway, to highlight the plight of global warming. As you can see in the video above, it’s quite a remarkable performance. Ludovico Einaudi performs Elegy for the Arctic on the baby grand piano, a moving piece he wrote specifically for the occasion. The soothing tones of his composition paired with the incredible visuals of the glacier make for a compelling video. In a news release Einaudi said, “Being here has been a great experience. I could see the purity and fragility of this area with my own eyes and interpret a song I wrote to be played upon the best stage in the world. It is important that we understand the importance of the Arctic, stop the process of destruction and protect it.” The timing of the video’s release is no coincidence as Greenpeace state in a blog post, “This week, delegates at the OSPAR Commission meeting in Tenerife, Spain, have an opportunity to take an important step in protecting the Arctic. The proposal before them would safeguard 10 per cent of the Arctic ocean, an area roughly the size of the UK.” Make sure you watch the video the whole way through. The compelling visuals combine with the soothing music that make this video a must watch. What did you think of the video above? Have you ever visited a glacier? And are you concerned about the impact of global warming? Share your thoughts in the comments. Video credit: YouTube / Ludovico Einaudi Related links: <a href="/travel/cruising/2016/05/5-things-you-must-do-to-avoid-seasickness-on-a-cruise/">5 things you MUST do to avoid seasickness on a cruise</a> <a href="/travel/cruising/2016/05/10-things-you-must-never-do-in-a-cruise-cabin/">10 things you must never do in a cruise cabin</a> <a href="/travel/cruising/2016/05/po-ships-first-new-zealand-cruise/">P&O’s first cruise around New Zealand</a>

Cruising

2 more natural wonders to add to your travel bucket-list before they disappear

Do you put off travel, thinking that there will always be time to tick things off your bucket list? Well there are some natural wonders in the world that won’t wait for you. Pollution, global warming or just good old-fashioned age has put an expiry date on these destinations. See them before they disappear – forever. Glacier National Park, Montana (pictured) In the early 1900s there were more than 150 glaciers in the Glacier National Park. In 2005 there were 25 and scientists fear that that number could be zero as early as 2020. As winters become shorter and warmer, many glaciers have become rocky snowfields and even these are expected to disappear in the near future. Rare plants that grow around the glaciers edge will die out, while animals, fish and birds that rely on the water will have to move from their traditional territories. Many local ski resorts have closed as they can no longer guarantee snow cover and there are serious implications for the towns and farms that rely on the mountain’s water supply to survive. Mesoamerican Reef Australians tend to focus on the damage that climate change and industry are doing to our own natural wonder, the Great Barrier Reef, but off the coast of Central America the Mesoamerican Reef is dying at a much faster rate. Stretching more than 1,000 kilometres from Mexico to Honduras, a worldwide bleaching event in 1998 damaged up to 50 per cent of the coral and pollution, shipping lanes, hurricanes and overdevelopment for tourism continue to damage the reef. Coral is still dying off and numerous species of turtles, sharks and whale sharks are in danger of losing their habitat.

International Travel

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