A Different Pace of Life

I watched my boyfriend drive away in his rental car and I wiped the tears from my eyes. It wasn’t a breakup, so why did it feel like one?

Maybe it’s because we didn’t know when we’d see each other again. The uncertainty gave me nothing to hold on to. Or maybe it’s that I was now back in Steamboat Springs, just 2 months later, crying in my van alone over a guy again.

Either way, it was too quiet in the van. I got back to my campsite and it felt so empty. There was nobody to bump into, half the closet had nothing in it, and the silence was almost unbearable.

I needed an adventure.

After catching up on sleep and letting myself feel sad, I took Dakota to Rabbit Ears, the trail that my boyfriend and I had tried to bushwhack our way to just a few days earlier.

The entire hike was just one moment after another of wishing that pictures could accurately portray just how vast and colorful the landscape was. The wildflowers were more abundant than I had seen in any other place I had been, even though I have been traveling through peak wildflower season across the country for months.

The hike was challenging and rewarding. I often thought of how my boyfriend would have enjoyed this hike and how I wished he was doing it with me. Dakota and I made it up to the “Rabbit Ears” where we climbed around and took in the views. 

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I ended up staying at this campsite for longer than I had stayed at any campsite before, reaching the maximum 14 days allowed at a campsite in this location. I was adjusting to the solitude, catching up on things that I had neglected with another person around, and was having plenty of adventurous shower attempts.

I needed to get going though. I knew it would be like ripping off a band-aid and I just had to do it. I was getting too comfortable. I had my sights set on Rocky Mountain National Park, which I was really looking forward to until I plugged it into my GPS.

I’d be driving through Kremmling to get there. That’s the tiny town in Colorado where I was supposed to be living this summer with the river guide. That’s where I got my heart broken last and deep down, I still felt a whole lot of hurt. Now I’d be taking a little trip down memory lane as I drove the one road that goes through town.

To make it all better, I needed gas. I could either drive an hour round-trip in the opposite direction to fill up, or fill up at one of the two gas stations in Kremmling, where my odds of running into someone I knew were astronomically high. I couldn’t let a guy detour my trip like that, so I put on some Taylor Swift and headed to Kremmling.

My mind was racing the whole way there. I certainly wasn’t missing him and was glad that things hadn’t worked out, but it was really hard to be driving down the same roads I had spent time on just a few months prior. Kremmling held a lot of heartbreak for me. During my brief time there I really struggled to feel like myself. There were a lot of feelings of not being good enough and of not being able to do anything right. I felt sorry for myself for putting up with so much hurt and driving back through these spots brought it all back to the surface.

I was nearing a spot where I had spent a couple of afternoons by myself and my mind was wandering back to the tears I shed in that parking lot and the hours spent wondering what I was doing wrong, when suddenly my RPMs spiked and Forrest’s engine was revving like crazy. The ABS light and traction control light went on, so I pulled off onto the tiny shoulder and turned off the van. I got out and walked around to see if I could tell what was wrong. As soon as I looked at my rear tire, my hubcap melted off onto the grass.

Knowing that my troubleshooting abilities were limited, I called my boyfriend. His first question was, “Is your parking brake on?”

[Insert expletive here]

I never use my parking brake. It’s not something I was ever in the habit of doing before the van and the indicator light that tells you your brake is on doesn’t work, so to avoid ever forgetting to take the brake off, I just never used it.

My boyfriend had encouraged me a few times to get into the habit of it, so I was starting to put it into practice more. I would put something over the steering wheel to remind me to take it off, but this time I didn’t.

My brain was obviously a bit preoccupied when I left my campsite, so the parking brake was the last thing on my mind. I was so anxious about seeing my ex in Kremmling and now here I was, possibly about to get towed into the small town I was trying to avoid.

Where I had stopped there was barely a shoulder, so I got back in the van, started him up, and with the parking brake off I slowly drove him to the next turn out. I was relieved to see that despite the warning lights still being on, I still was able to brake and could drive him through town instead of getting towed. 

I waited an hour for the wheel to cool down and then carefully drove to the dreaded gas station. I tried to collect my strength again as I nonchalantly (probably not) looked around while pumping gas. Nobody familiar.

I knew I couldn’t stay in Kremmling and I’d push the van if I had to, so we headed off to the campsite I was aiming for, which was another 30 minutes away. I drove down the street we had driven down so many times together and past every restaurant (there are about 5) that we had eaten at.

I let myself feel the pain in my chest. I held my breath as I drove past his truck which was parked right where I used to park the van. 

And then it was over. Kremmling was in my rearview mirror. I let the pain pass through me, took a breath, and moved forward.

When I finally got to my campsite, I was welcomed by the most stunning sunset, which always feels like the universe is telling me I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

The next morning, I was off to the closest mechanic to see how badly I had messed up the van and I trying so hard not to be angry with myself. It was an accident that was probably bound to happen eventually, but there was absolutely nothing I could do to change it. The damage had been done and was now out of my control. I was doing my best to just let the frustration go.

We settled into the waiting area of yet another mechanic somewhere in the country. This scene was all too familiar at this point. The mechanic came into the waiting area shaking his head, “You really got that thing hot back there,” referring to my tire. Every time he came back in, he didn’t give me more information, just shook his head.

When he finally had a diagnosis, it wasn’t great. Forrest would be needing new rear rotors, new ABS sensors, and a new parking brake. I had just been paid for a few weeks of working 40 hours and hustling some crazy overnight hours, and I was starting to daydream of what I’d do with that extra money. Good thing I wouldn’t have that problem anymore!

They were able to order the parts that I needed and would have them the next afternoon. So, we drove back towards camp. Two minutes down the road though there was a bad noise coming from the back. I pulled over to inspect it, but I couldn’t see anything. I called the mechanic and he told me to come back because they would probably just need to pull the entire parking brake system out since everything had heated and stretched and was now loose and making noise. Once they did that, we were ready to settle back into camp for the night.

We were instructed to drive as little as possible until it was fixed so we took some little hikes around camp and I set up a perfect outdoor office and got some writing done.

Soon we were back at the mechanic, settling into the waiting area yet again. It wasn’t too long though before the mechanic came out to give us the bad news: he had the wrong part and wouldn’t have the new part for another day. So back to camp we went.

The next afternoon they were finally able to get Forrest all fixed up. We were there for several hours and it cost way too much money, but I was just thankful to be putting it all behind me. I had a day off work coming up and was hoping that I’d be able to go backpacking, so I was thrilled to be back to my adventuring.

This would be my first solo backpacking trip. I had been backpacking a handful of times with previous partners but had never gone alone. I had dreamed of doing it for a long time, knowing that it terrified me, so I wanted to face that fear like I had faced so many others. 

I got my trip planned and now it was time to pack so I could leave first thing in the morning. As I was packing, I heard a car door slam on the other side of the van. I walked around the van to see who it could be.

The spot I was in was at a pull-off on a long forest road. It was a larger spot, probably better suited for a huge RV, but it was still just a single campsite, which is why I was surprised to see a man that I didn’t know walking around my site. Now it’s fair to note that I’m referring to this spot as “my site” although it’s free camping in National Forest, so it’s not technically mine for any reason other than I’m there.

I waved at the guy and he waved back, then he continued walking around. So, I very eloquently said, “Hey, what’s up?”

He responded with, “I’m going to share your campsite. The rest are full.”

I was speechless. I’m all about making friends on the road and meeting new people, but the way he told me he would be sharing my site made me very uncomfortable. Had he just asked instead of telling, I would have been more than happy and probably would have offered him a beer as well. I don’t often feel uncomfortable or even think about the fact that I’m alone, but this certainly made me pause for a minute and check my gut. 

He tucked into a corner of the campsite and I saw that he had a girl(friend) with him, which for some reason made me feel the teeniest bit more at ease. I finished packing and then had to teach a few classes in the van. While I was teaching, an RV pulled into the site. My bold new neighbor went over and talked to him (I believe the guy in the RV asked if he could share), and then he settled into our campsite too. After teaching I tucked into bed, ready to hit the trail and find some solitude after work in the morning.

By the time I was done teaching the next day, the RV had already left, so it was just me and my audacious neighbor. I still had my outdoor office set up, which consisted of my screen tent, camp chair, and a small table. I was only going to be gone one night so I figured I’d leave those things set up so I could come back later in the evening tomorrow and have a place to return to where I knew I’d have service. I ventured down to the river and filled the camp shower too so that I’d be able to rinse off after my trip, and I set it in the sun next to my “office”. Then I drove off to the trailhead.

I was so excited to head out on my little backpacking trip. Dakota and I both put our packs on and headed off down the trail. My pack was unbearably heavy. Not having a partner to split the weight with definitely made this more difficult. But I was happy and ready for our adventure, so I just tried not to think about how much everything hurt.

The trail started off steep and I was struggling to keep a decent pace with my pack and the altitude. I did my best to not think about bears and enjoyed the beautiful weather and wildflowers. Soon we came upon a couple and their dog, so we stopped to chat for a minute. They told me they had seen a moose, lots of bear scat, and that a coyote had just crossed the trail in front of them. Then they said goodbye and took off merrily down the trail. And then I was alone again, now with thoughts of all the wildlife that could possibly hurt me running through my brain.

Fear is such an interesting thing though. During my time on the road, I’ve spent a lot of time with fear and learning more about it. Sometimes there is a real reason to be scared, and sometimes it’s important to listen to those fears (or a better word- our intuition) to help keep us safe. But more often than not, fear comes from what we don’t know and from what we haven’t experienced. Is wildlife dangerous? Occasionally. Is it likely that you’ll have a dangerous encounter with wildlife while hiking on a trail in the middle of the day? No. Now it’s not impossible, but it’s unlikely that an unprovoked animal is going to attack you while you’re walking down a trail. You’re more likely to die in a car accident, but that doesn’t keep us from driving, right?

My fear wasn’t really rational at this point, and I kept reminding myself of that as I made my way further into the wilderness.

Eventually, we hit an overlook and could see our destination, Lake Bowen, down below. My soul was filled to the brim.

I pulled out the camp chair at a beautiful spot overlooking the lake and poured a glass of wine. The mosquitos immediately started swarming and poor Dakota was losing the battle against them, so I sprayed my rain jacket with bug spray and forced her to wear it for a bit. It wasn’t long before she was rolling around in the grass, trying to get the jacket to fall off.

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We wandered around camp, filtered water at the lake, and then cozied up in the tent as the afternoon rain came in. I took advantage of the quiet afternoon and took a much-needed nap.

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When I woke up, it sounded like there were voices right outside of my tent. I unzipped the tent and peered out to find that there were voices right outside my tent.

“Sorry, I hope it’s OK that we camp here, there aren’t any other spots left!” the man outside my tent said. 

Even out in the wilderness I couldn’t escape sharing campsites. This group approached it in a much friendlier way though, so I was more than willing to share. I had already gathered enough firewood earlier for a small fire for myself for the evening, but seeing that we’d be sharing a firepit it probably wouldn’t be enough for a bigger group of 6 of us now. The group consisted of two men who knew each other from college and their 3 kids, who were all in their late teens. 

I told one of the teen boys that they were welcome to use the firewood I had already gathered but that he might want to go find more because it wouldn’t be enough. He was very eager and got right to work on building up the campfire. I had brought a fire starter with me that one of my old students had gifted me (one of the best gifts ever- toilet paper tube filled with dryer lint and dipped in wax on both ends to keep it together) and told the kid he could use it to get the fire started. I was settling in to make dinner and it was nowhere close to dark yet, so I still had it packed away, but the kid was ready. 

After being asked several times, I finally got it out for him. He started pulling it apart (you’re just supposed to light the ends of it but keep it all together) and I worked hard on practicing my patience and letting go of control after I told him it’s supposed to stay together and he ignored my advice. It wasn’t long before he had a big fire raging.

We all went and sat around the fire and began swapping stories. Soon though, our fire started to die. A few from the group headed off to find more wood and quickly returned with lots of it in various shapes, sizes, and dryness. They threw the pieces onto the fire in a haphazard way that made me cringe, but again, I was letting it go.

Within seconds the small flame we had left was now a roaring bonfire. A “white man’s bonfire,” as I once heard it referred to. The kind of bonfire that your stereotypical macho dude builds to impress others. I was not impressed.

The sun still hadn’t quite set yet, but clouds had rolled in and it was beginning to rain. Two of the teens grabbed a plastic poncho and held it over the fire to protect it from the rain. I wish I could say I was making this up.

My cringing and uneasiness were almost at its peak and I was considering retiring to the tent, but at the same time, I’d rather know if we were going to have a wildfire than to be sleeping through it.

Soon the rain passed and the sun set. The group kept taking turns finding more to burn and continuing the cycle of barely a flame to a raging bonfire. They were running out of material and motivation, so soon one of the teens grabbed their bag of trash and dumped it into the fire. That’s about the time I had to excuse myself to get Dakota settled into the tent (she doesn’t tolerate late nights by the campfire) and to try and keep myself from losing it. When I returned, they were all gone. 

The fire was barely alive, but it was just enough for me to get it going again. I fed it some well-laid pieces of wood, rearranged what was already there, and a few minutes later I had the warm, personal fire I had been dreaming of. 

Soon the two men returned without their teens. “Wow, we leave for a minute and you get this quiet, perfect fire going!” they remarked. “This is really pretty symbolic of how differently paced our lives are, huh?”

And they couldn’t be more right. I was really pretty amused by this observation. They had laughed earlier when I told them about my glass of wine ritual but now they were noting how slow-paced and peaceful my life seemed. I got to camp, sat down to drink a glass of wine and take in the view, then eventually set up my things. They came in like a tornado, getting tents pitched and dinners made before anyone could catch their breath. Then their fire was all or nothing, throwing whatever they could find at it to get the instant gratification of a roaring bonfire. Meanwhile, I was slow and thoughtful to get my small but warm fire going that would last us well into the night without much more fuel. 

I spent the rest of the evening chatting with them next to my small fire.

The next morning was all about camping rituals as well. I ate breakfast and then took my coffee-to-go and sat next to the lake with Dakota. We chatted with people as they walked past, and Dakota was the star attraction to a nearby group of boy scouts. 

I had planned to take a day hike to another lake before coming back to tear down camp, but we were enjoying our lazy morning and didn’t get started until midday. Just as soon as we left camp, the thunder began. We’d have to hike up above the tree line to leave the lake, so I decided it was best for us to wait out the storm, which would hopefully blow over quickly. Dakota was happy to hunker down in the tent and we napped while waiting for the weather to blow over.

It never really cleared up so we didn’t get to explore, but soon we’d have to leave and get back to the van. I tore down camp while the rain came and went and the thunder rolled quietly off in the distance. It wasn’t ideal to be hiking out with dark skies, but we didn’t have another choice.

The journey back felt long. I always enjoy the hike in so much more, when my body doesn’t hurt and the landscape is new and exciting.

I had a map for my hike in but had somehow managed to lose it while I was camping. I figured it would be pretty straightforward to hike out so I wasn’t worried about it.

Eventually, I came to a spot where the trail split and I looked at the sign. I couldn’t remember which trail I needed to be on: one went down and the other kept going straight. I felt like I needed to go down. I knew I should be coming up to an overlook in the next half-mile so I should figure out if I took the right trail at that point.

We started to descend down the steep trail and I immediately felt like I’d taken the wrong one. It didn’t look familiar and I didn’t remember climbing something this steep at this point in the journey. But for some reason, I wanted to keep going until I reached where the overlook should be.

Soon I was wading through ankle-deep mud. This was definitely not something I did on my way in, but it had rained a bit. That’s when I realized I had texted a picture of the map to my parents to give them an idea of where I would be, so the picture was still on my phone. I pulled it up, but without the sign, it was pretty useless. Then I felt the mud seep through to my socks and decided it was time to head back to the sign. Unfortunately, this was straight uphill.

When I got back to the sign, I pulled up the picture of the map. I had been on the wrong trail. But then I noticed that had I continued on it, it would have still taken me to the same place. So I just added an extra mile of muddy, steep adventure for the fun of it. Never a dull moment!

I got back to the van and was exhausted. My whole body hurt from the trip in and out and I was looking forward to that shower I had waiting for me back at camp. As I pulled away from the trailhead, a group was coming back to their cars and we gave a polite wave to each other.

I started my long journey back down the bumpy dirt road to my campsite. Soon the group from the trailhead caught up to me in their Subaru and so I pulled over to let them pass. Eventually, I approached a campsite with a big, white van so I slowed down to check it out. As I did, a guy at the campsite (one from the group at the trailhead) stood up and started waving his arms. It was a “hey, stop, roll down your window!” kind of wave, not just a polite wave. I stopped and rolled down the window. He yelled out, “Want to join us for a beer??” I knew I should already be getting ready for bed, considering I’d be up at 2:30 am for work, but I also needed that beer after all the hiking we had done. So of course, I said yes.

It was a group of 4 about my age: a couple and two siblings. I gladly took a beer off their hands as we stood around and chatted. I was going to just have the beer and leave but they insisted I stay for dinner, and honestly, I was starving. Plus, I had left my stuff at my campsite so I didn’t have to be in a rush to get back.

After beers and dinner, the sun had nearly set so I needed to go. I left on such a high from meeting amazing people and enjoying great conversation.

But as I turned into my campsite, all of that faded away.

A huge RV sat in the middle of my campsite. It was kind of annoying, but I wasn’t surprised to see that I’d have to share a site for another night.

Until I drove around behind the RV to my outdoor office and shower, which was now nowhere to be found.

“Sometimes there is nothing less lonely than a little time alone.”

Atticus