Onward and Upward

I was ready to leave Taos. I didn’t know where I would go next, but I knew I couldn’t stay.

Taos had been hard on me for the third time in a row. It was time to venture elsewhere.

I prepared to get going, which seemed especially difficult after spending a week with a crew of other vanlifers and then another week stationary at Taos Ski Valley. Dakota and I squeezed in a couple more nearby hikes, which put our weekly mileage at almost 30 miles, and it felt really good to cover mileage like that again.

I had been spending a lot of hours with Dakota out on the trails. We had been mostly alone for a week now and still didn’t feel like we had enough. 

We took in the windy views from mountaintops and found giant mushrooms under trees. We spent afternoons by the creek and I perfected the art of river water camp showers.

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A day before we hit the road, as we traveled up the canyon from our river spot back to the ski resort, my engine light came on. Because of course it did, I’m in Taos.

After everything I had just been through in the last few days, I couldn’t handle one more thing. I opened the hood and looked around. Yep, it looked like an engine. I’m not sure what I expected to see… maybe a big flashing red button, indicating the problem, but there was no such thing. Laughing at the ridiculousness of what I had just done, I closed the hood and got back in the van. I started it up again, and the engine light was gone. 

Thank you, Forrest.

I had just journeyed through Colorado before the vanlife gathering with a crew of van friends but felt like there was so much of Colorado I hadn’t been able to experience. We kept a pretty busy pace and traveled in a way that left very few opportunities for exploring in the way I typically do. I decided I’d head north back to Colorado, somewhat retracing my steps and spending time in the places I’d skipped on the way to Taos.

My first stop, simply due to my 2-hour rule for driving, landed me in a spot in Colorado named Monte Vista. This spot not only had free camping with amazing cell service, but it also shared a name with the school I spent the past 5 years teaching at, so I knew I liked it already.

I arrived to find a desert landscape with “campsites” out in the open and not a single tree. I found the spot I’d be calling home and knew this was precisely where I was meant to be. I love the mountains and the desert equally and alternating back and forth between the two is as perfect as vanlife can get for me.

Dakota and I settled in, cooked some dinner, and got ready for what was shaping up to be one of the most incredible sunsets I’ve seen since hitting the road. I’ve mentioned before that a spectacular sunset the night I arrive at a new campsite always seems like a sign to me that I’m in the right place. And I knew this to be true.

I slept with the doors open, listening to the sounds of the coyotes and watching the stars from my pillow. This might be my absolute favorite part of living in a van.

In Taos, I had been camping in the ski resort parking lot. It was a scenic spot, but it was still a parking lot. This meant I covered my windows each night so that people couldn’t see me in the van and Dakota had to remain on a leash if she stepped outside the front door.

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Now that we were off in the desert, I could sleep with doors open and windows uncovered. I fell asleep to the sunset and watched the sunrise while I worked. Dakota wandered around as she pleased, and we fell back into our favorite vanlife rhythm.

Our campsite was surrounded by many mountain bike trails and long, quiet dirt roads. I got my bike out and took Dakota for a little bike tour of the new neighborhood.

Over the next few days, we hiked trails together in the morning before it got too hot, and I took some bike adventures solo in the afternoons while she stayed home in the cool van. I caught up on writing and sleeping and generally just slowed down. I was still processing all that had happened over the past week and was still feeling the need for time away from the world. 

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We caught stunning sunsets and sunrises nearly every day and I prepared myself for the upcoming Labor Day holiday, where I was sure I’d be sharing a campsite with other campers. I was just about ready to leave this campsite but worried about being able to find a new place to camp during the holiday. I decided to stay through the weekend and prepared to miss out on my sweet solitude for a few days as the Weekend Warriors ventured in.

But to my surprise, I didn’t see another person all weekend.

As the weekend came to an end, I was ready to get out of the desert. The daytime temperatures reached 80 degrees, but we didn’t have a drop of shade at our campsite. This kept us inside the van more than I’d like and I was ready for a new spot where we could spend more time outside.

I also needed to finally replace the shade tent that had been stolen from my campsite while I was backpacking so that we could have a comfortable outside space no matter where we were parked.

My next spot was another 2 hours or so from the last one. This spot had been posted on an app by the friends I had just caravanned with, so I knew it would be a good one. My friend Laurén had mentioned that the road to the campsite was for “experienced drivers only,” but I knew her and her rig and figured if she made it there fine, then I would too. I texted her and mentioned I’d be heading to that spot and she reassured me that I’d be just fine on that road, so we made our way there.

I finally got to the road to the campsite. I took it slow and figured I’d be alright, but soon I realized I had probably picked the wrong “line” and the van felt as though it was going to tip over sideways. I was doing my best to not panic as my tires were spinning and everything was getting jostled as we ungracefully made our way over big rocks and equally large ruts. I wanted so badly to turn around and abandon this plan, but there was no way I’d be backing down this road and there was no place to turn around. I had to just commit.

When I pulled into the campsite, my hands were shaking and my heart was racing. Turns out, I’m not an “experienced driver.” I texted Laurén.

That’s when she admitted to me that she also struggled to make it up the road and ended up calling a friend to come to help her drive her van up to the campsite. While I’m probably glad I didn’t know that information before I got there, I also thought it was crazy that she had so whole-heartedly encouraged me to attempt it alone. I originally had only planned to stay for one night, but I was not going to be ready to drive that road again in the morning, so we’d certainly be staying longer.

I caught another “welcome home” sunset in our new campsite and tucked into bed.

This spot had great views, large trees, and perfect temperatures. I was the only camper in sight and would be able to continue my journey of aloneness. 

Since I didn’t want to travel down that treacherous road again, we were a bit limited on what kind of adventures we could have. There wasn’t much hiking within walking distance, so I spent some time running instead. I set up my hammock and tarp to create a peaceful little outdoor area and I buckled down to get some work done.

I had been tasked with a project to write about my favorite easy vanlife recipes. I was excited about this job because it was so different than my usual writing and would also require me to provide my own photos, which would be a new skill to dive into. This project was given to me right before the caravan, so I had loaded up on the ingredients needed, but then got too busy to write up the recipes and take photos.

I still made the food so it wouldn’t go bad, but all of the produce was a bit less photogenic by the time I was able to use it. Now I had plenty of time though, so I picked up the ingredients again, and got to work. Since I typically make large portions of these meals and eat the leftovers throughout the week, I had been eating these 3 dinners for nearly a month now and still didn’t have the recipes done. The thought of eating them for another month made me sick, but I didn’t have much choice.

Taking photos of food is not something I’ve had any experience with before. It requires good lighting, which is difficult to control when you live in a van. I had just settled in to make my favorite pizza recipe and take photos when the sky started to get dark and I could hear thunder in the distance. I needed to take the photos outside, so I quickly carried my ingredients out as the thunder shook the ground, snapped some quick photos between swatting away bugs, and got inside just as a torrential downpour started. My tarp structure just barely survived the storm and I managed to make the photos work despite the hurried efforts. You can check out the full article here.

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I had been processing a lot lately between spending a lot of time surrounded by large groups of people (which is draining to me), my sister’s cancer diagnosis, and the end of another relationship. 

Dealing with my emotions from this breakup was different than the other failed relationships I had been through this year. I realized I had already sort of mourned this one when we had parted ways back in July. Even though our relationship hadn’t ended at that time, it had felt so much like a breakup that I guess I had emotionally processed it like one. The quality of our relationship while we were apart was also poor, so I had become used to feeling emotionally alone again. 

In the past, a breakup always felt so difficult because of the sudden changes. That person no longer texts or calls, they suddenly aren’t around, spaces feel empty, and the silence feels big. I had felt all of that back in July. The spaces had been empty for a month already. There wasn’t that sudden void that I had felt with my last breakups.

While I felt like I was emotionally doing alright, I accidentally came across a picture of an ex (not this one) with his new girlfriend, smiling and holding hands. And suddenly, I wasn’t doing alright.

No matter how much I reminded myself of how much better off I was now, I couldn’t get the image of them out of my head. It threw me into a serious funk.

During this time, I posed a question on Instagram, asking friends for any tips to get out of a funk or to get over a past relationship. The responses were interesting!

The suggestions I got included everything from hiking and journaling to a voodoo doll and Beyoncé. Some recommended a new relationship while others said to swear off guys. My favorite response though, and the one that has helped me breathe a little easier many days since then, was “Trust that you want someone who wants you, not someone who doesn’t.”

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After hitting this low point, I felt like I was ready to be around people again. I had felt and cried and processed. I had been alone, like really alone for a couple weeks now and I was starting to miss human interaction. I was glad I had taken the time to myself, but it was time to be social again.

I packed up, summoned all the confidence I could, and started the journey back down the treacherous road. I was more careful this time, planning my line through the big rocks and awkward slope a bit more thoughtfully. It was still terrifying, but much more graceful than on the way up.

A friend that I had met on the van caravan was camping at Twin Lakes, which was the next place I was hoping to visit. I was excited to be back there, but even more excited to be there with a friend.

Her name is Steph and she travels solo with her sweet hound, Mesa. She had spent her first night on the road alone during our caravan and was still very new to vanlife. We hadn’t spent much time together during the caravan, but I could already tell I liked her.

The caravan had spent a night at Twin Lakes and I had been here on my journey through Colorado back in May, but neither time allowed for much exploring. On my last visit, a couple friends summitted Mt. Elbert, the tallest peak in Colorado, but I couldn’t join them because I had to work. This time though, I had a day off work coming up and I was ready to climb to the top.

Steph and I got a couple days together before I took off on my hike, and I was so thankful for the much-needed girl time. We settled into a perfect rhythm of camping together. We sat around chatting for hours but also took time for ourselves. We hiked separately with our pups, took time away to write or work, and spent time huddled in the van together playing cards while storms rolled through camp.

I got to know a lot about Steph during our time together and I’ll always be thankful for her friendship. She has a kind soul and a gigantic heart, and I found myself energized by our time together.

My day off work was approaching though and it was time for me to hit the trail. I planned to leave after work in the morning, spend the night on the trail with Dakota, and summit the peak the next day. This would break the mileage up, making it physically easier on both of us, but especially for Dakota. The trail is about 18 miles total and gains 5,000ft of elevation, so it was going to be a challenge for both of us.

Just as the case had been in Taos, afternoon thunderstorms were a regular occurrence. The weather report called for storms the day we hit the trail but the next day when we planned to summit, it would be clear. I figured we would hike until the storms came and then find a place to camp.

I ate a giant breakfast, said goodbye to Steph (who so kindly sent me on the trail with some delicious pumpkin chocolate chip bread), and took off with Dakota.

This would be my second solo backpacking trip, the first one I had done about a month earlier. I was less nervous this time and the second I set foot on the trail I was thrilled to be out there in my element. It was a perfect culmination to all the healing and processing I had been doing the past few weeks.

I made smarter choices this time about what I carried with me, so my backpack was lighter than during my last trip and my body felt great as we set off down the trail. The sky was already clouding up, but otherwise, the temperature was perfect.

The trail was quiet and we mostly had it to ourselves. We hiked for about an hour when I heard what sounded like a car. Soon I approached a sign. It was a trailhead, and yes, a car. Apparently, there was another, closer trailhead that saved about 2 miles of the trail in each direction. Although it felt silly to have already hiked for an hour while people were just starting from this point, Forrest most likely wouldn’t have survived the 4×4 road to that trailhead, so it probably wouldn’t have been an option for us anyways.

It wasn’t long before the thunder started and we needed to find a place to camp. We hadn’t passed many campsites on the way up and I knew we needed a spot near water so that I could filter water to drink. I pulled out a map that showed a nearby river, so we kept hiking. As I approached what should have been a river, there was no water anywhere. I knew we were running out of time before the storm hit, so I made the decision to turn around and hike back to the last pond we passed, which was now about half a mile away.

Without having any real idea of where I was heading or whether we’d find a place to camp or not, we stumbled upon a perfect little pond with an equally perfect campsite. 

I started to unpack the tent just as the skies opened up and the wind kicked up. The thunder got louder and Dakota got more anxious. As soon as I pulled the tent out, Dakota did her best to get inside of it. In record time I had the tent pitched and our bags sheltered from the rain. We huddled in the tent together just in time for the rain to stop. 

I left the tent to check out the rest of the campsite now that the sun was coming back out. I had abandoned my tradition of wine at camp before unpacking due to the storm, so now I poured my cup of wine and wandered around. Dakota had decided that was enough adventure for one day and was happily curled up in the tent. Our spot was right next to a pond with a beaver dam in the middle. I watched as a beaver swam back and forth, smacking his tail on the water. I filtered water and got ready to cook some food. Soon, the clouds built up again and the second round of storms was coming through. 

Dakota and I huddled in the tent as a gigantic thunderstorm crashed overhead. We were nowhere close to the tree line yet, but it certainly felt as if we were right in the clouds. The thunder shook the ground and Dakota trembled in fear. I was so proud of how she handled the storm. She’ll probably always be afraid of storms, but just a few months ago she would have tried to escape the tent. Now she was curled up with me, doing her best to be brave.

We went to bed early in hopes of getting a full night’s sleep before our summit in the morning.

The next morning’s weather was perfect: the temperatures were just right, the wind was calm, and the sky was clear. I made breakfast and loaded as much water as I could carry into a smaller backpack to take to the summit. I’d be able to leave the rest of my gear back at camp and only carry what I needed for today’s hike. 

Shortly after beginning our hike, I heard someone approaching from behind. I turned around to see a man, dressed in running clothes, running with a donkey. I got Dakota off the trail as he reassured me that his donkey was fine around dogs (who knows what Dakota thought of the donkey), and he ran off down the trail. I immediately had a million questions for him and wished I had asked instead of just staring as he ran past.

We continued for a while alone and eventually caught up to a group ahead of us with two couples and a dog. They were about my parents’ age and happily absorbed me and Dakota into their group for a while. 

The trail was beautiful and not particularly difficult until we got above the tree line. Soon we were catching up to many people on the trail who were taking breaks and making slow progress to the top. 

The trail was steep and narrow. It was mid-week, so the trail wasn’t crowded, but it still was difficult to pass slower groups. I had spent the past few months at high elevations, doing a lot of hiking, and I still found myself gasping for air as I slowly trudged up the trail.

I eventually left the couples I had been hiking with because my natural pace was much faster, and I went the rest of the way up alone. 

To my delight, I looked ahead on the trail and saw a donkey and his runner friend coming towards me on their way down. As we approached each other, the runner said, “Oh hey, I remember you guys!” (Dakota was wearing her backpack, which makes her stand out a bit, but not as much as a guy with a donkey.) Now was my chance to ask all the questions!

“I’m so glad to run into you again!” I said. “I noticed you’re in running clothes and as soon as you passed, I was immediately curious about what you were doing out here running with a donkey.” I couldn’t even pretend to be cool.

He explained that he does Burro Racing, which is a sport where you race donkeys by running with them, not riding them. The sport originated in Colorado and is popular in mining towns like nearby Leadville. He was using this hike for training and it was the first time he had summitted a 14er (a mountain over 14,00ft) with his donkey. I was in awe.

Dakota and I carried on, slowly but surely, until we made it to the peak. My legs were tired, and I was humbled. 

There were maybe 10 people at the top, sitting and watching the view or snapping photos to celebrate. But the pair that stuck out to me the most were the two guys on their mountain bikes.

I had seen tire tracks in the mud for most of the way up and I kept wondering if someone had really ridden their bike up this trail. I was struggling to hike up some of these steep parts and knew there was no way I could push a bike up. Sure enough, these two guys were sipping their summit beers while sitting on their bikes.

I asked them about it and they said the bikes were hard to push for the last mile or so, but they were able to ride most of the way up. They were already geeking out over how fun the descent was about to be. I immediately wished I had my bike with me for the way down, knowing how long it was going to take to make it back to camp on foot.

A few other people were also enjoying their summit beers and I regretted my decision not to bring one. Knowing that I’d have to carry it for 2 days while also trying to be smarter about my pack weight, I had opted not to bring one. Now, as I looked around at everyone with their beers, I knew I had made a huge mistake.

I took off my pack as well as Dakota’s and we walked around the summit while I took pictures of the sprawling landscape. Standing at the highest point always feels like a tremendous accomplishment.

Someone had made a sign and was passing it around for everyone to use for pictures. The weather at the top was perfect without much of a breeze, so I found a place to relax and dug out the pumpkin bread that I had been dreaming of for the last few miles.

Eventually, the couples I had hiked with earlier made it to the top. I jumped in to offer my photography skills as they celebrated their summit. They came incredibly prepared for the celebration. They took off their packs and began unloading various beers as well as a small bottle of champagne. I made a comment about how I had made the error of not bringing a beer and they insisted that I take one of theirs. One of the ladies in the group didn’t want hers, but she at least needed it for the picture and then demanded that it be handed off to me. I didn’t argue.

Soon I realized I had been at the top of Colorado for nearly an hour. Dakota had enjoyed watching the critters scamper across the rocks while I absorbed the views and listened as each group celebrated their journey. There were families and friends and couples, all gathering for a quick photo before beginning their descent. 

There was one couple who was celebrating their 40th “high point,” or tallest peak in a state. I knew this had to be something I added to my list of “must do’s” as I travel across the country.

Our descent was pretty uneventful. Dakota and I hiked alone and made good time. Eventually, we arrived back at camp, both exhausted.

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Dakota curled up in the sunshine while I began the process of tearing down and packing up. We still had a few miles left before we were back to the van and if I took too long to get packed up, we’d end up hiking out in the dark.

This is when I really miss backpacking with other people. Sharing the responsibility of cooking and packing is so much nicer, especially when you’ve been hiking all day. 

I needed to eat before we continued our journey back. I had bought a new brand of backpacking meal that I was excited to try because you add water to a larger pouch (any water- it doesn’t touch the food so it doesn’t have to be clean) and then a “heating element” boils the water and cooks the food. That meant I didn’t have to dig out the camp stove to boil water and could let my food cook while I packed up the tent.

I grabbed the meal and looked at the package. Step 1: empty package contents. I pulled out the heating element, then another, then another, then another. I had 5 heating elements and no food. 

Luckily, I always pack an extra meal for emergencies. I found my camp stove and cooked one of my usual meals before packing up and getting ready to leave.

Dakota was not pleased as I woke her up and put her backpack on her again. We’d have about an hour of hiking left before we were finally home.

Just as we approached the trailhead off the 4×4 trail, the one I hadn’t known about until I passed it on the way up, we ran into the couples we had hiked with on and off today. They had parked at this trailhead and offered to take us back to the van, but that felt like cheating to me, and I had a hike to finish.

Just as the sunset was beginning its evening display, we cleared the trees and saw Forrest waiting at the trailhead. We drove back to the campsite, this time without Steph, and slept hard after a day of nearly 40,000 steps.

It had been a fantastic adventure, but it’s always sort of nice to come home.

“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.”

Rachel Carson