Things are Heating up

After a second date that caught me by surprise, I was on my way to Gunnison.

“How about you meet me at my house. You can take a shower there. Then let me take you out to dinner and we can camp up at Hartman Rocks,” he said. It sounded like a perfect evening, so I couldn’t say no.

Although we had just spent almost the last 48 hours together, we weren’t running out of things to talk about. After dinner, we caravanned over to Hartman Rock to camp for the night. I had stayed here back in August and had found a perfect spot with a cell signal, but now it was dark and I knew I wouldn’t be able to find that spot again.

Luckily, he knew the place like the back of his hand and had a few campsites in mind. He drove his truck with his slide-in camper loaded on the back while his dog ran behind him down the dirt road. I followed them in the van. 

Each spot we came up to was already occupied or was a cell phone dead zone.

Eventually, we got to the “one last spot” he had in mind. He warned me that it was a bumpy ride to get to the top and gave me an opportunity to back out. I was feeling fairly confident and agreed to follow him up there.

I watched his truck maneuver its way over the rocks and up the steep trail, rocking back and forth, until suddenly his camper broke free from its straps and tipped to the side as I gasped and slammed on my own brakes. Then with a slight “thud”, it settled itself back into his truck bed, safe and sound. By this time, I had come to a stop and lost all upward momentum. His own close call made me reevaluate my braveness and I decided to play it safe and reverse myself back down the road. We settled on risking the night in the main trail parking area instead.

I had plans to leave for Utah in a few days to go camping with friends and he knew I’d be leaving soon. 

He jokingly told me he was going to let all the air out of my tires so I’d be stuck in Gunnison and wouldn’t be able to leave him.  

Or at least I thought he was joking. The next morning as I got out of the van, I found Forrest with a flat tire.

He had to leave for work but insisted on staying with me as long as possible, making sure I was in good hands before leaving me stranded. I put my roadside assistance to work and called for someone to help me change the tire.

While I was waiting, a man named Steve rolled up next to us in his red, ’95 Honda Civic. My date had been wanting to meet this man for a while now because he also has the same car and had seen him driving around the tiny town of Gunnison.

Steve saw my spare tire leaned up against the van and came over to chat while his sweet black lab wandered around the parking area. Steve is in his 70s and appears to be one incredible human being. He was there to take his dog mountain biking and in the short time we spent talking to him, it was evident that he had lived a wild life of adventure and he wasn’t slowing down anytime soon.

He chatted with me while my date went off to work and kept me company while waiting for roadside assistance. Soon an odd couple walking a cat wandered up and eventually the guy from the tow company arrived.

He hopped out of his idling truck and got right to work. As he got started though, he found it extremely difficult to get my wheel off. He was a big man and he pulled and pulled but it wouldn’t budge. Soon the man with the cat jumped in to help, both of them tugging at the wheel with no success.  

Steve stood looking over their shoulders, offering advice, but soon he went to his car and grabbed a scissor jack. Then he got down on the ground, shimmied himself under the van, and positioned the jack against my wheel and the body of the van. Within minutes, Steve had my wheel off the van while the two, much younger men, watched.

Luckily the rest of the tire ordeal was quick and easy. I went into town and the local tire shop had me back up and running in no time.

I found an actual campsite for that night and my date came back for another spectacular evening of camping, sunset hiking, and letting our dogs wrestle each other in the sand.

• 

• 

The next day though, it was time to journey back to Utah to meet my friends for a weekend of desert adventures. I planned to stop at Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park on my way there since it was on the route back and not too far from where I was in Gunnison.

It’s always bizarre to leave after meeting someone while dating on the road. Especially someone I’m truly interested in. We had spent every minute possible together since that second date and now I was taking off with no set plans to return.

I drove to Black Canyon and took Dakota on one of the dog-friendly trails that follows the rim for about a mile and a half. The weather was hot and that was just enough to wear her out. Then I drove the length of the south rim road, stopping at every pullout to walk around and admire the insane views.  

Black Canyon of the Gunnison is certainly one of the less-popular national parks and is one of the four parks in Colorado (the others are Rocky Mountain National Park, Mesa Verde, and Great Sand Dunes). The south rim road follows along the top of the canyon, so when you get out at the viewpoints, you’re looking straight down this magnificent canyon to the Gunnison River below. While there are deeper and longer canyons in the world, Black Canyon is extremely narrow, which makes it so fascinating.  

I didn’t have service in the park until I got to the end of the road. Then a text came in. “I’m craving fried pickles. Want to meet me for dinner?”

It was my date. Even though we had already said our goodbyes, he was offering to meet me in Montrose, the city just outside of Black Canyon National Park, which just over an hour from his house. I obviously said yes.

We had fried pickles and good beer and listened to live music before finding a place to camp nearby. 

He had a few spots in mind, so I followed him once again down a dusty road with his dog running wild behind his truck. Each spot we stopped in didn’t have service and I had to work in the morning, so we’d move along to the next spot. Soon, we had tried nearly every spot he knew of. Luckily, I already had a spot in mind before I knew he would be meeting me, although it was certainly a “work spot” and not a glamorous camping spot.

I felt bad that we had driven around for so long to a bunch of great campsites but now I’d be dragging us to a local city park, but that’s real-life vanlife. He was patient and more than happy to follow me back to the park.

I woke up the next morning to teach and said goodbye to him one last time so that he could head back home for work. I sat down and 5 seconds before my class started, I saw his phone sitting on the counter next to my computer. 3…2..1..teach!

I tried not to panic and did my best to focus on the lesson. What could I do anyway? He had already driven off and it’s not like I could call him. We weren’t connected through social media and it would be a long time before he was at a computer again, so trying to track him down online wasn’t a good option. I had been to his house so I could go drop it off there, but it would add 3 hours of driving to my journey back to Utah.

I finished my last class and got out of the van to let Dakota out. Just as I opened the door, he pulled up behind the van, clearly knowing he had left his phone. He was holding 2 coffees and a brown bag.

“I got us breakfast,” he said

---

My next stop was near the Utah/Colorado border as the halfway point to where I’d meet my friends for camping the next day. I took Forrest down a sandy stretch of road that we were lucky to not get stuck on, and we found ourselves an empty campground in the desert.  

I always miss the desert when I’m gone from it. There’s just something about wandering the desert with Dakota that fills my soul right to the brim. I made dinner and watched the sunset, a routine that will never feel anything like a routine.

The next morning, after a coffee walk with Dakota, we headed towards the San Rafael Swell. I was going to be the first one there and had the responsibility of finding us a campsite. I had taken the next two days off work, so I didn’t exactly need a cell signal other than I had no idea how I’d let the group know where our campsite was without one. Luckily, I found us a beautiful spot up on a cliff that had just enough of a signal to squeeze out a text with my location.

• 

• 

That night, my friends finally arrived well after the sun had set. I thought about setting up my tent and actually “camping” with them but given the chance to get some real sleep during my days off, I opted for my warm bed. The wind was also howling and it was raining on and off, making my warm van even more enticing. We were all exhausted and the weather wasn’t good enough for a campfire, so we all tucked into bed early.

The next day we were ready for adventure. We drove near Goblin Valley State Park for a slot canyon adventure in Little Wild Horse and Bell Canyon. Dogs are allowed on this hike but I wasn’t sure what to expect as far as accessibility goes for Dakota. Slot canyons can be narrow and can have obstacles to climb over or under, but I figured the worst case was that we turned around and went back if we couldn’t go any further.

It was another day of crazy winds, so hiding out in a slot canyon was a perfect way to enjoy the sun without getting blown around.  

Slot canyons are always amazing to me. The colors, the shadows, the patterns carved into the rocks, and the feeling of being so small surrounded by deep canyon walls.

We followed in a line through the winding slot canyon with Dakota leading the way. Eventually, we came to a very large drop down over a boulder. 

As a human, you’d put your hands and feet against the walls to help lower yourself down, but it was a long jump for a dog, and Dakota knew it was too big. As we approached it, she surveyed it and then immediately began to turn around. Had I been on this hike alone with Dakota, we probably would have ended our journey here, but luckily I had a great group of friends with me who were ready to help.

A few friends blocked her from the back as I lowered myself down and grabbed her from the front, doing my best to pick up and lower the wiggly, 80-pound monster. She’s not a great dog for picking up due to her size and the fact that if you’re trying to force her to move someplace, she’ll do her best to go the opposite direction. Being pushed or pulled sends her into immediate panic mode, but she handled this maneuver like a champ, and we were able to continue on.

We came upon a few spots like this during our hike where Dakota either needed to be lowered or lifted, each time a team effort by the great, patient group of friends I was with. 

Where she could, Dakota handled her own stunts without help, jumping up and over rocks nearly as tall as me, proving that at 7 years old she hasn’t slowed down one bit.

We found a different campsite for the night, opting for something lower and hopefully less windy. 

We cooked a big, family dinner, using Forrest to block the wind, and then called it an early night again.

I slept great in my warm little home, but I woke to find that everyone else had spent the night trying to keep their tents upright in the howling winds.  

I made up a gigantic pancake breakfast for everyone, but while I was cooking it started to rain. Everyone piled into the van and soon we had a new record of 5 people and a dog inside my tiny home, sharing pancakes.

Just as we were wrapping up breakfast, I looked over to see Dakota hunched over on the bed, in a stance every dog parent knows all too well. “Everyone out!” I said as Dakota emptied her stomach all over my bed.

After doing my best to clean and dry my sheets at our campsite, we packed up our campsite and drove to Goblin Valley State Park. Here we wandered around the valley of hoodoos, exploring the giant playground of rock formations.  

• 

• 

Then it was time to return to Salt Lake City for a bit.

It’s always strange to return to the place I usually refer to as “home.” Every time I’m back, it feels less and less like home. I don’t really have friends with driveways that I can park in where I don’t feel like I’d be intruding, so my visits leave me camping in parking lots as I’d do in any other city. My friends are busy with their lives and we don’t always get a chance to see each other when I return, and nearly every inch of the city is covered with memories of the person I used to be and the relationships I used to have.  

I love coming back to Salt Lake City though. I love knowing how to get around and where to find the grocery store. I love revisiting my old favorite spots with Dakota. 

I love seeing friends when I can. 

But it’s also a little painful every time. It feels like a measurement of how much everything has changed. Each visit a more obvious reminder of how much time has passed since I left.

I did my best to focus on the positive parts of being back. I took Dakota for an adventure to one of our favorite hikes up Millcreek Canyon, where she ran crazy laps through the snow and we took in the views of the leaves changing along the trails.  

• 

• 

I also paid a visit to the elementary school I used to work at and soaked up the love and hugs from all the students I had taught over the years. So much has changed there too with a new principal and tons of new staff members that it was strange to walk down the hallways and see people I didn’t know. 

I was touched by how many students made the effort to stop by and see me after school and how many parents also stopped over for a hug. If I had been feeling down about being back in Salt Lake, the visit with my past students and their parents filled my heart right back up.

Part of my journey back to Salt Lake City had been for the purpose of installing a heater in the van in preparation for chasing snow this winter. The heater had arrived and I had the help of my dear friend Justin to get it installed. Of course, it’s never as easy as you think it will be though, and after a few days of working on it, I was finally ready to test it out.  

I was camping at the flight park in Salt Lake City, where the paragliders and hang gliders launch from. It’s one of the windiest and coldest spots in the valley. I was very excited to get the heater working so I could stop suffering through freezing cold mornings of teaching.

I plugged it in, ready for the joyous moment of heat, and it immediately shut off. So did all of the power to my van. I tried it again and out went all the lights again. Luckily, I had Justin and my date from Colorado as my tech support and with their help, I was able to figure out what was wrong with the electrical. Soon, there was heat pumping into my little van! I would be living a life of luxury from now on.

---

My next adventure was a weekend in Moab with the guy from Colorado. I had worried that once I left him in Gunnison, I’d never hear from him again. 

A friend once told me I made myself “undatable” because of my lifestyle as well as my crazy work/sleep schedule. I knew this was true and was trying not to get my hopes up with this guy so that I wouldn’t be disappointed when he got tired of how undatable I am. To my surprise though, he was willing to drive to Moab to meet up with me again.

I found a campsite in Moab and tried to wait patiently for him to arrive. He was driving out after work so I knew he’d be arriving late, but the what if’s were running through my brain. What if he changes his mind and doesn’t want to meet up? What if he gets here and realizes he doesn’t like me after all? 

What if he gets here and I realize I don’t like him after all? The nerves were getting to me.

Soon, I heard the rumble of a diesel engine pull up next to the van and soon there was a knock on the van door. I opened the door and saw a huge smile spread across his face. Every worry instantly vanished.

For the sake of making this writing easier, I’m now going to refer to this guy as my boyfriend, because *spoiler alert*, he sticks around.

The next morning, we took the dogs for a wander around camp. His dog, Rico, was off running ahead and Dakota was trailing behind. 

This was pretty unusual for Dakota. 

I’d stop and wait, and she’d stop too, crying. Something about her behavior was just a little off.

We returned to the van and she jumped up onto the bed inside. A little while later I peeked inside to say hi to her and when I reached my hand out to pet her, she flinched. The dog mom alarms began to go off.  

I reached toward her again and again she flinched, bigger this time. I tried to make her stand so I could see what was wrong with her. She went to jump down off the bed and nearly fell off the bed instead, unable to stand up normally. Panic spread through every inch of my body.

I knew I needed to get her to the vet as quickly as possible. I could feel the tears bubbling up as I asked my boyfriend if he could drive us to the vet, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to keep it together. He stayed calm, reassuring me that we’d get her to the vet and he’d be happy to drive us. 

We got Rico into the van and made our way to the closest vet.

On the drive, we were replaying the morning, trying to figure out what could be happening to Dakota. 

The only time she was a little out of sight was when she was scavenging around the campsite before our walk and we caught her snacking on poo. Gross, I know, but unfortunately some humans had decided to make the campsite their toilet and had left the evidence behind. We had yelled at Dakota as soon as we caught her snacking, but we weren’t quite fast enough. 

Although it’s extremely disgusting, it’s not that unusual for dogs so we hadn’t thought much about it.

Now though, it seemed to be the key to Dakota’s behavior. My boyfriend had a sneaking suspicion that the poo she had ingested may have had traces of THC in it, having heard of dogs reacting poorly in similar situations. THC is the chemical found in marijuana that makes you “high”.

We got to the vet and tried to get Dakota up off the bed. She could hardly stand and clearly didn’t have the balance to jump down on her own. We did our best to assist her and walked the wobbly pup into the building.

The receptionist took one glance at her and immediately knew what was wrong. THC. She still had us fill out paperwork and meet with the vet, but she told us that they see dozens of cases of this each week.

The vet came into the room and by this point, Dakota was struggling to control her bladder. Tiny droplets were left all over the floor and down her legs in a constant but slow stream.  

The vet got down on the ground with her and looked her over, Dakota flinching at his every movement and swaying side to side as if she were on a boat.  

He asked us if she had eaten anything and we told him about her campsite snack that morning. He confirmed that this was certainly a case of ingesting THC. He explained that when someone ingests weed, from an edible for instance, 20% of the THC can remain in their poo. Dogs also don’t react the same to THC as humans do. Since they’re unaware of what’s happening, it can be pretty traumatic for them.

The vet offered to run tests on her but assured us that she’d most likely be fine, she’d just need some time for it to wear off.

We took her back to the van and helped her inside. She was still dribbling pee, which I hadn’t noticed before the vet, so the sheets were already soaked.

Poor Dakota spent the rest of the day sleeping it off the best she could. She was wobbly and jumpy and it was hard to watch her suffering. 

After running errands we arrived back to our campsite and got the dogs out, doing our best to make a waterproof bed for Dakota so she could sit outside with us while my bedding was draped over every outdoor surface to dry.  

We watched a beautiful sunset over the desert. I was so thankful to have my boyfriend with me, keeping me calm and getting us safely to the vet while I was doing my best not to have a panic attack. He even helped me hang the pee-soaked bedding and never complained once.

As night fell, Dakota seemed to get worse. The best way for dogs to recover quickly is to stay hydrated and drink lots of water, but Dakota was struggling to do just about everything and couldn’t seem to comprehend drinking from a bowl.

The desert air got cold quickly so we piled into the tiny van, but Dakota refused to get up onto the bed. 

I had covered the bed with a waterproof blanket and the sound of the blanket seemed to startle her. She was sitting on the tiny space on the floor, unsure about how to lay down and too tired to fully sit up. She was swaying back and forth, jumping at every movement or sound that the rest of us made.  

I woke up in the morning to the sound of Dakota jumping up, shaking her head hard and wagging her tail against the side of the van. Her normal morning routine. She was hungry and absolutely parched.

She gobbled up her food and drank an entire bowl of water all at once, then without hesitation she jumped out of the van, landing perfectly with her full coordination. 

The weed nightmare was finally over.

That was her magic,

she could still see the sunset,

even on those darkest days.

Atticus