November 6–9, 2025 | Nebraska, South Dakota

 November 6–9, 2025 | Nebraska, South Dakota

On Thursday, November 6th, I hit the road to North Platte, Nebraska, for a business trip to attend a conference. I spent the day working and later joined a large group for dinner at a Cuban restaurant called El Mojito. It was a lovely night, meeting new people, sharing stories, and learning from their life experiences.

The next day, Friday, November 7th, after wrapping up the conference, I decided to drive toward Chimney Rock, Nebraska, about a two-hour and 33-minute drive. The route took me through Windlass Hill and across the Platte River on US Highway 26. As I approached Bridgeport, the sun was setting, painting the sky with glowing colors as usual.

I arrived at the Chimney Rock trailhead at 4:52 p.m., just after the sun had fully set. It was a beautiful, quiet evening, and I had the place all to myself. Instead of taking the main trail to the rock, I wandered along the Ethel S. Abbott Foundation Trail since it was getting dark. I still got close enough to take a few photos and enjoy the cool night breeze during a peaceful walk.

Chimney Rock, located in western Nebraska, is an iconic geological formation rising over 300 feet above the North Platte River Valley. It served as a crucial landmark for 19th-century pioneers traveling along the Oregon, California, and Mormon Trails. Managed as a National Historic Site by History Nebraska and the National Park Service, it features a visitor center, exhibits on westward expansion, walking trails, and remains a powerful symbol of the American West, recognizable from miles away.

After that, I drove to Scottsbluff for the night and stayed at the Holiday Inn Express & Suites. Dinner was at Backaracks Steakhouse and Grill. The place was packed, and it took almost an hour and a half for my food to arrive, but I didn’t mind. I enjoyed a few beers, chatted with people at the bar, and watched sports on TV.

The next morning, Saturday, November 8th, the weather was cold, windy, dusty, and cloudy. After grabbing coffee from the breakfast area, I drove toward Alliance, Nebraska, to visit Carhenge: one of the many spots I had marked on my Google Maps. I arrived around 9:30 a.m.; only one other visitor was there, and the gift shop was closed. The wind was intense, blowing dust everywhere, but I still enjoyed learning about the history and effort behind this unique project.

Carhenge is a replica of England’s Stonehenge, located near Alliance in Nebraska’s High Plains. Instead of stones, it’s built from vintage American automobiles. It was created by Jim Reinders, who studied Stonehenge while living in England and carefully replicated its shape, proportions, and size. I was genuinely impressed by this landmark and loved the artistic paintings on the cars; it’s absolutely a must-see if you’re driving nearby.

Next on my itinerary was Toadstool Geological Park, about an hour and a half away. I had originally planned to camp there, but forgot that it was November, weather denial at its finest.

While driving from Carhenge back to the main highway, my GPS routed me onto a dirt road for several miles. It was already dusty, but I sped up and passed a truck, which I’m pretty sure annoyed the driver. For nearly a mile, all I could see behind me was dust. The truck kept honking, and I kept driving; bad decision, but honestly, kind of fun 😊

After passing through Crawford, I turned left toward Toadstool Geological Park and drove another 17 miles on dirt roads. The weather was fascinating, cold, cloudy, and dusty. Driving through the High Plains and the Oglala National Grassland felt unlike any other natural experience I’ve had in Nebraska. This area is truly beautiful.

Oglala National Grassland encompasses approximately 94,500 acres of remote mixed-grass prairie and rugged badlands, characterized by vast open horizons and unique geological formations.

I arrived at the park around 11 a.m., once again completely alone, clearly off-season. The first thing that caught my attention was an exhibit sign that read “Africa in Nebraska.” Learning about the geological history of the Great Plains, going back 35 million years, was absolutely mind-blowing.

I hiked nearly two miles through the badlands, enjoying the eerie silence. Other than the sound of wind, the place was incredibly quiet; a hidden gem with an otherworldly landscape, unusual rock formations, wide-open views, and deep solitude. It felt perfect for hiking, photography, and stargazing, and the remoteness truly made me appreciate the escape and natural beauty it offers.

Around noon, I left the park and drove toward Wind Cave National Park. I stopped in Hot Springs, South Dakota, for food and a drink, and by 1 p.m. I arrived at Wind Cave. Since cave tours were closed due to the government shutdown, I decided to do a few hikes before sunset.

My first hike was the Rankin Ridge Trail, hoping to reach the top tower, but it was closed. Still, I enjoyed the high-point views and took a few 15-minute naps while being the only visitor on the trail. By now, the mountain weather was surprisingly pleasant.

Next, I drove the Wildlife Loop Road and saw countless prairie dogs, pronghorn, and bison. Wind Cave National Park protects one of the largest remaining mixed-grass prairies in the U.S. and is home to wildlife such as bison, prairie dogs, pronghorn, elk, deer, coyotes, foxes, badgers, and even black-footed ferrets.

I spent about an hour at the Prairie Dog Town, attempting time-lapse shots. After setting up my camera near one of their burrows, I quickly realized how strong their warning system is; they appeared briefly and disappeared the moment they noticed my phone. Amazing creatures.

After sunset, I exited the park via Lame Johnny Road toward SD-79, heading to Rapid City. I arrived downtown around 6:30 p.m., greeted by Christmas lights everywhere. There was a big music event in town, and most hotels were booked, but I managed to find a room at Elevation Inn & Suites. After checking in, I went to Paddy O’Neill’s Irish Pub & Grill for food and drinks. It was a lovely place, and I enjoyed chatting with a local couple celebrating their daughter’s birthday. Before heading back, I stopped at a pharmacy for sleeping pills; I haven’t been sleeping well lately. Welcome to adulthood.

On Sunday, November 9th, I woke up around 7 a.m. At breakfast, the kind kitchen staff asked everyone where they were visiting from. People had traveled from all over for the country music concert.

I then drove toward Black Elk Peak, formerly known as Harney Peak. At the Gas station, I talked to a local man, and I told him that I was driving to Black Elk Peak; he was almost upset about why I called it Black Peak; he said it is Harney Peak, not Black Peak, and the name was changed due to politics. I had no idea; but as I am writing this blog I googled it and found this “Harney Peak was renamed Black Elk Peak in 2016 by the U.S. Board on Geographic Names (USBGN) to honor Lakota spiritual leader Black Elk and remove the offensive name of General William S. Harney, who led a massacre of Native Americans, including women and children, in 1855. The change recognized the mountain as a sacred site for Native Americans, who found Harney's legacy deeply derogatory, aligning with the USBGN's mandate to avoid offensive names, despite some initial state-level opposition.”

I was nervous about the weather, but it turned into a perfect morning. I had wanted to hike Black Elk Peak since 2018, and this felt like the right day. At 7,242 feet, it’s the highest point in South Dakota. I started the hike from Sylvan Lake at 9:15 a.m. About a mile in, I spotted a mountain goat climbing granite cliffs; an incredible sight that I chose to simply enjoy in the moment and did not take any photos.

I reached the summit around 10:30 a.m. Everything was cold, icy, and white: trees, rocks, even the prayer flags. A sea of clouds blanketed the forest below, while blue skies stretched endlessly above. I felt incredibly lucky to exist at that moment. I spent about 30 minutes near the lookout, snacking, resting, and chatting with fellow hikers. I returned to the parking lot by 12:30 p.m. after nearly eight miles of hiking.

Before heading home, I drove the Needles Highway and through the Needles Eye Tunnel, surprisingly still open for the season. The drive was stunning, winding through towering granite spires and breathtaking Black Hills scenery.

The drive back to Lincoln, Nebraska, took about eight hours and twenty minutes. After entering Nebraska, I followed Highway 385 to Alliance, then Highway 2 east through the Sandhills and the Nebraska National Forest. The BNSF railroad ran alongside the road all the way to Grand Island. I passed through countless towns, Hemingford, Hyannis, Mullen, Broken Bow, Ravenna, Cairo, and many more.

This drive completely changed my perspective on Nebraska. The Sandhills, Crescent Lake National Wildlife Refuge area, and the vast openness were stunning. With almost no cars on the road, I drove as the sun folded into the horizon, listening to Turkish music and capturing videos of the glowing sunset. I arrived home around 9 p.m., tired, grateful, and full of memories.

Canyonlands National Park

 Oct 12th, 2025, 

I’ve come to realize that life is a dream in two ways.
In one sense, life was a dream for unborn souls and for those who left this world too early, those who never had the chance to see much of it. And life is also a dream for us who are living now. Because every day, every year, and every moment passes like one. Think of yesterday, last year, or five years ago; it all feels like a dream now. Like the blink of an eye.

October 12th marked my last national park visit and the final day of this trip. I woke up around 7:30 a.m., only about 30 minutes from the entrance of Canyonlands National Park. After unpacking my tent, I headed straight to the nearest gas station for fuel and coffee. The station was still closed, and I waited a few minutes until an elderly Utahn woman opened the door from the inside. While the coffee brewed, I spent a few moments chatting with other travelers, those small, simple conversations that somehow always feel right on the road.

Last day of the trip, here we go.

My first stop was Monitor and Merrimac Viewpoint at 8:12 a.m. (truly looked like a hotel building). It was still early, quiet, and peaceful. I spent about 30 minutes there, sipping coffee, enjoying the morning breeze, and taking in the vast view stretching endlessly before me.

Next, I walked the short half mile to Shafer Canyon Overlook. The scenery there was dramatic and breathtaking, calm and powerful. Standing at the edge, looking down into the canyon and the winding road cutting through it as far as the eye could see.

By 9:30 a.m., the park started to get busy. When I reached Mesa Arch for the one-mile hike, people were already lined up, waiting for their turn to capture the iconic photo beneath the arch.

There was so much to explore that I ended up taking Upheaval Dome Road toward the Syncline Loop Trailhead. Which also included several other points of interest:

• Whale Rock
• Upheaval Dome Overlook (first and second)
• Syncline Campground

At the trailhead, I packed plenty of water and snacks and hit the trail. Honestly, I didn’t fully know what I was getting into. I took a different route from most people, and right at the start, there was a warning sign:

“Warning: You are on the 8.3-mile Syncline Loop Trail. This trail is very strenuous and difficult to follow.”

That warning was no exaggeration.

After the first half mile, the trail disappeared entirely, only cairns remained, and even those weren’t very helpful. Rain had washed much of the route away. I constantly checked my watch and phone to stay on track. After mile two, the hike became extremely remote and physically demanding. It required careful route-finding, scrambling over large rocks, and full focus. The trail was completely unmarked, and it was very easy to get off route.

By mile three, I was bouldering over massive rock formations, intense, exhausting, but deeply rewarding. The views into the canyon were stunning. I spotted wildlife, including deer, and the geology felt almost otherworldly. Layered colors, strange formations, fossils, and dramatic terrain surrounded me at every step. I got lost a few times, but occasional arrows painted on the rock helped guide me back.

The hardest part was still ahead: climbing out from the depths of the canyon back to the rim, nearly 600 feet of elevation gain. It was brutally challenging. Later, I realized I had hiked the loop counterclockwise; it would have been much easier going clockwise.

I returned to my car at 2:17 p.m., completing 9.07 miles in just under four hours. A group of bikers was in the parking lot, and I mentioned to one of them that this hike was completely unplanned. She smiled and said, “Good job.” That felt good.

After a well-needed break, I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I still had time, so I stopped at Wilhite Trail and walked about half a mile to the overlook. The trail led toward the deep canyon, and the Green River was below-quiet, beautiful, and peaceful.

Next was the Green River Overlook Trail, another short walk. There, I spent time reading the exhibit titled “What Shall We Find?”, which shared the story of Major John Wesley Powell’s 1869 expedition through the Green and Colorado Rivers. His words describing a “strange, weird, grand region” felt just as true today. Standing there, it was easy to imagine how little this landscape has changed since then.

I continued on to White Rim Overlook Trail, nearly a two-mile hike. I spent a long time just sitting and gazing at the view. As I looked down into the canyon, an idea formed, driving down there someday, staying for a month, living simply in the wild, fishing in the Green River, and disconnecting completely from city life. That idea felt necessary. It felt right.

My final stop of the day, around 4:30 p.m., was Grand Viewpoint Overlook. Watching ATVs move like tiny dots far below, I knew this place had earned a spot near the top of my list to return to, right alongside Death Valley National Park.

I exited the park around 5 p.m. and began the drive toward Denver on I-70. With music playing and the sunset unfolding, I reflected on life, where I am, where I’ve been, and where I want to go next. The drive lasted about five and a half hours, and I arrived in Denver around 11 p.m.

I checked into a Holiday Inn downtown. Most places were closed, and I was starving, but I found The Pizza Bar, open until 3 a.m., perfect timing. The bartender mentioned how quiet Denver was for a Sunday night, with no major events taking place.

I went to bed close to midnight, hoping for a good night’s sleep.

The next day, Monday, October 13^th, a holiday, I woke up around 9 a.m., grabbed coffee, and hit the road toward Lincoln, Nebraska. A familiar drive on I-80. I was home by late afternoon.

Yet again, I had that familiar feeling: glad to be back, yet sad to leave.

Capitol Reef National Park

 Oct 11th, 2025

It was a quiet night in Salina, Utah. I woke up around 7 a.m., and although I had a fair night's sleep, I still felt exhausted, and that is not surprising, while my Strava app reminded me I had already hiked nearly 115 miles on this trip. It was all part of the journey.

I packed my things into the car, stopped by the hotel lobby for a coffee and a few muffins from the breakfast area, checked out, and hit the road again. The drive to Capitol Reef National Park took about an hour and a half.

I arrived at the park entrance at 9:12 a.m. The morning drive through the mountains was beautiful, with low clouds brushing against the landscape. Driving through the Utah countryside at that hour felt peaceful, the sun gently touching everything in sight. Everything still looked wet from the rain the night before. Most of this area is red rock, and with the moisture, the colors felt incredibly intense, almost unreal. It truly felt like another planet, the Red Planet.

My first stop was Chimney Rock Trailhead, a roughly five-mile loop that continues to Mummy Cliff. I only hiked about a mile and a half to the main viewpoint, which was absolutely worth it. The rail was extremely muddy, but thankfully, I had proper hiking shoes. I also noticed something new here: a sensor tracker at the trailhead that counts how many people use it.

Around 10 a.m., I moved on to a short three-mile hike near the Sunset and Goosenecks Overlook area. The hike itself was very short, but I kept going off the trail as the sun was strong and directly in my face; it felt amazing absorbing the heat at this time of the day. The hike continued across Sulphur Creek, enjoying complete solitude.

One of the best moments of this journey so far has been taking short 20-minute naps or meditation breaks in nature. This is something I grew up with, being outside all the time, sleeping on rooftops or napping under olive trees during hot summer days. These recovery naps connect me deeply to those memories. Today’s nap was priceless.

Next, I stopped at the Visitor Center to refill my water. By then, the park was getting busy, and the visitor center was packed. From there, I drove the scenic road toward Cassidy Arch. Since Grand Wash Road was closed, I had to park along the main road. I hiked for about two miles and could see the arch from a distance. The full hike would have been close to eight miles, and given the circumstances, I decided to skip it, hoping there might be another and closer access trail.

On the way back, I stopped at the Oyler Mine sign, an old, abandoned uranium mine dating back to the early 1900s. It produced very little uranium, and while it’s an important historical site, the warning signs are clear: abandoned mines are dangerous and should never be entered. Hiking through the depths of the canyon here felt surreal. I felt incredibly small among the rugged terrain and towering canyon walls.

The drive back to the main road was unforgettable. There’s a sense of openness that settles deep in your chest when you’re surrounded by red canyon walls standing quietly on both sides, ancient, steady, and reassuring. The sky felt impossibly big, scattered with soft clouds, wrapped in the vast silence of the landscape.

I took a break at Hickman Natural Bridge and studied my map. There is so much hiking to do in this park, it feels endless. Cassidy Arch was no longer realistic at this point, especially since I had already gone farther than planned. Instead, I decided to hike to Hickman Natural Bridge, which also offers views of Capitol Dome, Navajo Dome, and Pectols Pyramid. I started the 2.5-mile hike around 1:30 p.m.

The trail was busy, filled with families and kids, which is always nice to see. I reached Hickman Bridge at 2:13 p.m., and honestly, I still don’t know why they call it a “bridge”; it really should be called an arch 😊. Every moment of this hike was rewarding. The views unfolded beautifully: wide-open skies, colorful layers of sandstone, and the winding Fremont River creating a stunning backdrop. Standing beneath the massive sandstone formation, framed by canyon walls and sky, felt majestic and awe-inspiring.

By nearly 3 p.m., I was back at my car and began driving toward Canyonlands National Park, planning to stop for a meal and a few highlights along the way, including Goblin Valley State Park. The drive toward Hanksville was mind-blowing. I was completely shocked by the beauty of this region, the dark hills, endless rock formations, and extreme remoteness. In all honesty, parts of this landscape felt even more striking than many national parks I’ve visited. Utah is unreal, and it gives me yet another reason to come back and explore more of it 😊.

I stopped for lunch at Duke’s Slickrock Grill, a hidden restaurant in the middle of nowhere. The atmosphere was great, with photos of famous Western movie stars covering the walls. I really enjoyed my meal and the uniqueness of the place.

Around 4 p.m., I continued toward Goblin Valley, stopping briefly at Kathline Rock to take in the unbelievable scenery. I arrived at Goblin Valley State Park around 4:30 p.m. The drive into the park was stunning, with the sun beginning to set and campers scattered across the valley. The colors were incredibly intense in the evening light, and once again, the landscape felt unreal.

I spent about an hour exploring Goblin Valley, and it was truly unforgettable, an otherworldly place filled with bizarre, mushroom-shaped hoodoos scattered across the valley. It felt like a giant natural playground, where people can freely wander among the formations. I noticed many families with kids playing hide-and-seek, climbing, and exploring. There are no rigid trails here, just pure freedom to move through the rocks.

By 6:30 p.m., I arrived at Courthouse Rock Campground. I was lucky to find a spot, as the campground was fully booked. People nearby were talking about an incoming storm and strong winds. I enjoyed the sunset while making some noodles and tea, soaking in the quiet of the evening. I went to bed around 9 p.m., hoping for a good night’s sleep and feeling confident that I had secured my tent, though that confidence wouldn’t last.

In the middle of the night, the wind became extremely strong, and heavy rain followed. I tried to ignore it, but the tent poles collapsed, and the wind threatened to lift the tent entirely. I had no choice but to get out, secure the tent again, and move the car to block the wind for extra protection, which helped a lot. I noticed that my two neighboring campers went to sleep in their car instead.

Eventually, I returned to my tent, put in my earplugs, and tried to rest. Surprisingly, I slept really well after that, as the storm slowly calmed down.