A Very Full Van

Life in Utah was becoming pretty comfy again. I had already been back for a whole month at this point.

My boyfriend and I had spent every single day together since our first date. We filled our time with all sorts of adventures and were really enjoying every minute together.

We were both itching to get on the road again though, but this time we’d be going together.

There were things we had to take care of before we could hit the road, so we planned to leave in a few more weeks.

In the meantime, we had plenty of hiking adventures with our dogs. I even got to go rock climbing outside for the first time.

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My cousin was getting married the last week in June, and I’d be flying to Nashville from Salt Lake City, so we had to stick around until then. My boyfriend, although it was still a new relationship, would be joining me for the wedding and meeting my WHOLE family.

We had hit it off so quickly and spending every day together really made us close in such a short amount of time. It didn’t seem weird to be bringing him to a family wedding this early because I was excited to have my family meet him. My ex-husband was the last person to meet anyone outside of my parents. When you live away from your family, bringing someone “home” is a big deal.

Our trip to Nashville was great. I love spending time with my family and my boyfriend fit in seamlessly. We got to meet my new nephew and we danced the night away at the reception. It was a quick trip, so we were back in Salt Lake City before we knew it.

Soon it was the 4th of July, which means fireworks. And let me tell you, Utahns LOVE their fireworks. For the past few years, I’ve gone backpacking over the 4th in order to get Dakota away from the fireworks, and this year would be no exception. However, this time I made the brilliant decision to work out hard the day before and to lift with muscles that hadn’t been used in a year. So, the next day, when I strapped on my heavy pack and tried to climb over rocks and logs, it was with a fantastic waddle and slight groan.

The recent warm weather had thawed out more parts of the High Uintas Wilderness, so we could venture even further away than the last time. The plan this time was to do about 4.5 miles past a couple of lakes and ending at a third lake where we would camp for the night. We passed many patches of snow for the dogs and the sight of them both carrying their matching backpacks was enough to make my heart nearly burst.

Last summer, there was a wildfire up in the Unitas, and eventually, we hiked to a spot that had burned. Even though it was almost a year later, it was crazy to see how eerie and desolate it all still looked. There weren’t any critters scurrying, no leaves to blow in the wind, and clouds of ash floated up with every step we took.

This brought us to the first lake. I wasn’t ready to call this “home,” considering the burnt landscape and the fact that our plan was lake #3, but my boyfriend was kind of leaning towards setting up camp here. I pushed for us to keep going though, so we did.

We wandered in the direction of the trail, or so we thought, but we were having trouble finding it again. I had a map on my phone, but without a cell signal, it doesn’t give you a ton of information. We kept climbing in the direction we thought we should be going, but we didn’t appear to be getting any closer to the trail according to my map.

This attempt at locating the trail had us climbing over huge, charred, downed trees with our heavy packs on, and both dogs looked as though they had rolled in a firepit. I could tell my boyfriend was really ready to find a place to camp and now we were wandering, lost, through a burnt forest.

Soon, we realized we were probably on the wrong side of the lake, so we backtracked to where we last had a trail and set down our packs. My boyfriend, who is an ultrarunner, decided he’d go off without his pack to see if he could find the trail on the opposite side of the lake. So, he took off running with his dog, and I stayed back with Dakota. A few minutes later, I saw him jumping over logs on his way back to us. He had found the trail!

I convinced him that we should keep going for a bit to see if we could find a spot outside of the burnt area. If it looked like the next lakes were still in it, then we’d turn around and come back. But for now, it was time to head down the trail a bit further.

Eventually, we made it back to the lush, green forest, and to lake #2. We compromised and settled with this spot for the night and we had a beautiful campsite with a gorgeous view. We sat with our “glass” of wine, but then quickly began setting up the tent as clouds started to roll in, the breeze started to pick up, and the temperature dropped rapidly. It looked like we’d be getting a pretty good storm.

We did the “divide and conquer” that we do so well; I cooked dinner while my boyfriend set up the tent. Then we all piled into our shelter to bundle up and eat.

By the time we finished eating, the sun was peeking out again and the dark clouds had blown over. We managed to miss the storm and enjoyed a quiet evening overlooking the lake that we had all to ourselves.

The next day we set out to hike to lake #3. I emptied most of my backpack and left everything behind except for some water, some lunch, and the rest of the wine. We found a little spot near the lake where we relaxed and chatted the afternoon away. Then we made the long trek out and back to the van.

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We only had a few days left until we hoped to be on the road, so we finished up the last few projects and got ready to go. We’d be starting this journey together in the van, in an effort to save some money, and we’d go get the bus at a later date. I moved half of my stuff out and he moved into the empty spaces.

It was surprisingly hard to move my stuff. Not because it was hard to downsize more, I definitely still have more than I actually need, but the change was hard. I had let other people into the van before, but not in such a drastic way. They had packed bags and had been temporary. The last guy I had planned to share my van space with had been so critical of how I lived my life on the road, I was scared to give anyone else the opportunity to criticize something I had been so proud of.

But I also knew there was nobody else I’d rather share this space with.

I did my best to let go of controlling my space. I watched him pack some of the most ridiculous things (in my eyes) and tried not to let myself ruin a good thing.

A couple of days later, we were on the road. Me, Dakota, my boyfriend, and R2, all squeezed into Forrest. Our first stop was a reservoir on the Utah/Wyoming border.

We pulled into the campsite, pleased to have a spot near the water without another soul in sight. The dogs had lots of room to run and wrestle, and there was plenty of nearby adventure to be had.

The summer months for my job had been hard. With kids being out of school, many of my regular students weren’t taking classes, and I wasn’t making enough money. To remedy this, I was now working evenings as well as mornings each day.

This was a little challenging now that I was sharing a space with someone (and two dogs). It cut into our dinner time and my boyfriend would have to commit to either staying in the van while I worked or staying out of the van, but it wouldn’t be possible to go back and forth once I started. Some evenings he took the pups for an adventure, other evenings he sat by the campfire, but it was definitely hard on both of us.

We spent a few days in this spot in Wyoming. Being stationary for a bit was a nice way to adjust to this new version of vanlife. But soon it got too hot and the reservoir wasn’t the nicest water to swim in, so we headed out in search of cooler temperatures.

We had some sense of the direction we wanted to go and we both agreed that we’d like to make our way to the Dakotas (the states, not the dog) since neither of us had spent much time there before. It would take us a few days to get there, but we had a few campsites in mind along the way so we began the drive.

As we neared the campsite, I realized I didn’t have service. This happens from time to time, so I always have a backup plan. So, we headed off to “plan B.” But as we rolled up to my backup site, I didn’t have great service there either. At this point, we had been driving way over my 2-hour rule and I was getting tired and cranky. We finally caved, stopped for Taco Bell, and settled into a nearby Walmart.

We were both exhausted and defeated by the time we finally parked for the night. The reality of life (and working) on the road was hitting hard. This has happened to me many times before but having someone there with me almost made it harder. He needs service for work too, but he has the flexibility to sleep somewhere without service and can drive to civilization the next morning. My need for service has put pressure on relationships before, and so all my fears were bubbling to the surface.

We survived our night at Walmart and were ready to get back into nature first thing in the morning. We decided that heading to the Dakotas would probably only bring more internet struggles, so instead, we would be heading to Colorado and hoping to find some relief from the heat at higher elevations.

In order to stick with the 2-hour rule, our first stop was still in Wyoming. We found a perfect spot on a river with amazing cell service, AND it even had a bathroom. We settled into our spot and I set up the hammock in another nearby campsite that had better trees.

It wasn’t long before people started to show up, looking for campsites of their own. This was something new for me. I had spent the first half of the summer in Utah and I hadn’t been “camping.” All of my previous vanlife experience had been during the off-season, while kids are in school or it’s too cold to camp. Finding empty campsites has never been a problem and I’ve usually had the whole place to myself. Now I was realizing that setting up my hammock in a separate campsite was actually going to be a problem!

As people drove past, I told them they could share our big spot or take the spot with my hammock (and they could use the hammock too). Soon, we had plenty of neighbors!

We enjoyed having the river so close as a way to feel “clean” now that we were on the road. My boyfriend has a shower in his bus, so the dirtbag lifestyle of vanlife was a hard adjustment for him.

He had plans to pace a friend for a section of the Wasatch 100, a 100-mile trail race in Utah, in a couple months so he was trying to get in as many miles and as much vertical distance as he could. While this spot was surrounded by plenty of wide-open spaces and big hills, it was all private land that he couldn’t adventure on. So, a couple days in, he was feeling restless and ready to move on. I would have been content to stay for two weeks but was happy to move to keep him happy.

The next drive took us into Colorado. I was really run-down from keeping a consistent work schedule that ended at 10pm and started up again by 4am, so my boyfriend offered to drive us. This meant I could use our driving time to sleep, which is such a foreign concept to me as a solo traveler. I crawled into bed next to Dakota while he drove us to Colorado. I’ve let other people drive the van before, and I actually really enjoy being the passenger, but this was the first time I’ve been in the back while the van has been moving. And now I have a greater understanding of why Dakota was so scared of the van at first. It is MUCH louder in the back!

I woke up as the van started rocking back and forth down a bumpy dirt road. I climbed into the passenger seat and we made the final turn into our next campsite. We were just outside of Steamboat Springs and we had a perfect spot in a little clearing in the mountains. The weather was 75 and sunny and the air smelled like pine trees. There were thousands of miles of mountains to run in our backyard. We were both pretty pleased.

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We were excited to explore our new backyard, so the next day we ventured to a nearby trailhead. This trail was actually best used as a snowshoe or snowmobile trail and didn’t look anything like a trail in the summer. The ground didn’t have a “trail,” but there were blue diamonds in the trees to help you know you were still on the correct route. Sometimes these were easy to follow, but most of the time we had no idea if we were still on the right path. It was quite an adventure.

We went into Steamboat to load up on supplies and ended up at Walmart to pick up a screened tent. The only part of our campsite that we didn’t love was the mosquitos, and there were millions of them. You couldn’t be outside most of the day without being thoroughly attacked. Dakota was also being eaten alive and after just a few minutes outside she would return to the van with bumps all over her body and her eyes nearly swollen from the mosquito bites on her face.

The tent saved us. Although Dakota didn’t love spending time in it and R2 is like a bull in a china shop, so he struggled to use it properly, my boyfriend and I enjoyed the escape from the bugs in a spot that wasn’t the van.

We spent some time in Steamboat, where I got to go for a solo mountain bike adventure. The last time I had been on my bike was in Albuquerque, so it had certainly been a long time, and I missed it a lot. Riding at high altitude was humbling but the butt-kicking was accompanied by incredible views and amazing wildflowers.

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We both were at the point of needing showers again and the only shower option in Steamboat would cost us $20 each, which seemed too much for a shower. So my boyfriend hiked down to the river with the camp shower and then made the long trek back with a heavy 5-gallons of water. We set up the bag out the back of the van like I had done a few times before and got ready to get clean.

I went first. I stripped down, jumped out of the van, and started the water. It only took about 30 seconds for the mosquitos to sense me and my nakedness and go in for the kill. At this point, I was already wet and felt as though I had gone too far to turn back. I quickly abandoned the notion of washing my hair and would be content to just get the dirt off at this point. I soaped up while doing a little dance around the van, hopping around, hoping that it would be enough to shake off the mosquitos.

I could hear laughing coming from inside as my boyfriend enjoyed the hilarious sight, but the laugh soon got a shade of regret as he realized he’d soon be the one doing the mosquito dance outside in his birthday suit.

While the shower was less than refreshing, it was a story I’ll never forget.

I had been doing a lot of short, solo adventures lately. My work schedule was kicking my butt and naps were controlling my life. This crazy two-a-day schedule wouldn’t last forever but for now, I was working 40 hours a week and barely surviving. My boyfriend would go on longer adventures without me and I’d take Dakota out alone later. While the solo time was really good for me, we missed doing these things together.

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So the next day, we set out for a grand adventure with the whole crew. And we did it in the way my boyfriend is best known for. He looks off in the distance, sees a peak, and goes “that way.” He doesn’t use trails, he just goes. So we were determined to get to Rabbit Ears from our campsite, even though we didn’t have a realistic idea of exactly how far that would be.

I followed him up steep mountainsides, through streams, and into bushes. We avoided “herd protection dogs” and got mud up to our knees.

Soon we stumbled upon a lake and realized we were close to the actual trail for Rabbit Ears. We had already gone over 4 miles and that trail would be another 5.5 miles, then the rest of the trail back. Even though we were both up for it, I had to work in a few hours, and we wouldn’t have enough time. So, we turned back and ventured our way towards camp.

We were both sweaty and dirt-covered and desperately needed showers. On the way back, we passed by a stream that had a fairly deep spot, so we decided to get in.

With our clothes and shoes still on, we waded our way into the water and the dogs both joined us. This spot was next to the road and we were getting many stares as people drove past. The cool water felt so good on my scraped up skin and sore legs and I felt like a kid splashing around in the river with all my clothes on. Having a partner who encouraged this spontaneous post-adventure dip made the whole experience even better.

Before we hit the road, we had talked a lot about the challenges of squeezing a new relationship into a tiny van and traveling together. We both already lived this lifestyle, which would help, but we knew it wouldn’t be easy. We would be figuring it out as we went and adjusting if it wasn’t working for us.

Well, it wasn’t working for my boyfriend. And I’ll always appreciate that he was comfortable enough to speak up. He missed his bus. He missed showers and a bathroom and the flexibility that the bigger space provided him. My insane two-a-day work schedule was also making it extremely hard, and having his own space would fix that problem. Since we had two vehicles, there was no reason to tough it out and ruin our relationship over it.

He rented a car and would be making the drive back to Utah in the morning to grab the bus and meet me back on the road eventually. He had some things that needed to be done with his business while he was back too, but we were hopeful that we’d be caravanning sooner rather than later.

The next morning, I drove him to the airport to pick up the rental car. I watched him move all his stuff out of the van, just two weeks after moving in. And although it wasn’t a breakup, it sure felt like it. It took so much for me to open up my space to him and now watching him leave was heartbreaking. I tried not to let my bitterness and mistrust from my past have any space here, but it was hard to not feel like this was yet another guy changing his mind about me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this would be the last time I’d ever see him.

And actually, it was the last time I’d ever see him.

If the story’s over, why am I still writing pages?

Death By A Thousand Cuts, Taylor Swift