That night, on the eve of my 30th birthday, I pulled into a parking lot at Crested Butte Ski Resort. I made my way across the street to the ski slope to find the humming engine and flashing lights of the snowcat that grooms the slopes. My boyfriend flung the door open and I climbed into my birthday chariot.
Being on the mountain at night was a different experience than any of my other winter mountain adventures. It was fun to ride along in the snowcat and to get a glimpse into what my boyfriend did at work each night as the snowcat crawled up and down the mountain.
Eventually, my eyelids got heavy and my early morning hours started to catch up to me. Before I knew it, my head had slumped forward and sleep had taken over, despite the loud, bumpy ride. Luckily, my bed was in the parking lot, so I went back to the van to get some sleep before my birthday.
The next morning, as per birthday tradition, I hit the slopes. It had been nearly 10 years since the last time I snowboarded at Crested Butte with my college ski club, so it was fun to be back on my 30th birthday.
My boyfriend obviously knows the resort better than most people, so having my own personal tour guide was really nice. It was interesting to see the spots on the mountain that we had groomed the night before as we made our way around the trails. I love birthdays so I didn’t mind one bit when the Beatles version of “Happy Birthday,” played loudly from the ticket scanners each time I went through the lift line.
That evening, we relived our first date by revisiting the bar we met at, sitting in the same seats, ordering the same beers, and even having the same bartender that we had 4 months earlier. We rounded out my special day with a delicious dinner in Crested Butte before heading back to Gunnison.
The next day, I figured it was time to learn a new skill to go along with this new decade of life, so my boyfriend patiently walked me through the steps as I finally did my own oil change on the van.
There was some snow in the forecast again, but it was heading to Utah, so it was time for me to go there too.
Since I didn’t have a ski pass last year, it had been two years since I had snowboarded in Utah. Over the 5 years I had lived there, I had passes at several of the different resorts and was excited to revisit them.
I spent a couple of days being spoiled by deep powder at Solitude and Snowbird and relearning how to navigate the Cottonwood Canyons. In Colorado, all the resorts I had visited were fairly easy to get to and typically convenient to park at with the van. Utah is a totally different beast. The resorts are all up steep canyons that require 4×4 while it’s snowing and many of them no longer have free parking. Despite having snow tires, driving my home up or down a treacherous canyon in the snow didn’t feel like a risk I was willing to take.
There is a free ski bus to get to the resorts, but that means Dakota is nearly an hour’s journey away when I decide I’m done snowboarding. These are all certainly “first world problems,” but it’s just a bit more complicated than chasing powder in Colorado.
I was excited to hear that some of the vanlife ski friends I had spent time with in Colorado were on their way to Utah, so I wouldn’t have to snowboard alone much longer.
A chairlift to the clouds 
Powder days at Snowbird 
Snowy selfies
We rode together at Brighton and Snowbird as Utah got hit with powder day after powder day. Typically, the saying goes, “No friends on a powder day,” meaning that you don’t wait around for your friends and that chasing the deepest snow is the priority.
There are no hard feelings for ditching your friends on a powder day. But on one of our best powder days, we rode with a crew of 10 all day without dropping anyone, and it was definitely one of my favorite days I’ve ever had snowboarding.
In the evenings we did our best to hang out by going to sushi, celebrating the engagement of Jessica and Parker (@parks.and.wils), and swapping van tours. At night, we filled a parking lot with all our vans and it was nice to be surrounded by friends again.
That weekend was President’s Day, which was a blackout day for our ski passes and meant we couldn’t snowboard. We had found a van meetup event in Salt Lake and figured that would be an awesome way to meet more vanlifers and spend a day that couldn’t be spent on the slopes.
As I pulled into the parking lot for the meetup, I realized I knew all the vans that were there. Nobody else had attended the meetup besides us. A few people were drawn to the crowd of vans and wanted to see inside, but it was mostly just our crew.
I saw a few SLC friends, visited my favorite trails with Dakota, and got caught up on the Utah “to do” list while I was in town.
But after a week, I was itching to go.
Winter vanlife was taking its toll on me and being around so many couples was really highlighting how hard it was to do all the winter vanlife chores alone. I was desperate for a reprieve in the desert.
There was going to be a lull in the storms, and it was my chance to head south for a bit. One of the best things about Utah is the close proximity of everything I could possibly want: a city, mountains, lakes, and desert. So, a four-hour drive later and I was surrounded by red rocks.
I felt a huge sense of relief as I pulled into the perfect desert campsite just a bit outside of Zion National Park. I had done nothing but camp in parking lots or live houselife all winter and I hadn’t realized how badly I needed real camping again.
It wasn’t hot, but the warm sun, the lack of snow, and the wide-open spaces rejuvenated me.
This camping area is one that helped to build the foundation for vanlife, but it’s also one I’d been avoiding for a long time.
It’s an area that I used to visit nearly every weekend as the pieces of vanlife were coming together back when it was a dream I shared with someone else. There were a lot of feelings of hurt in this area and it was time for me to make it mine again.
I took Dakota for bike rides on the trails that I learned to ride a mountain bike on and watched the sunset over the mountains I used to stare at while dreaming of this life I was living now. I let myself feel angry and sad and did my best to remember that time in my life without the rose-colored glasses I often reminisce about it with.
As much as I try not to dwell on that relationship anymore or give space to the hurt that once consumed me, I couldn’t help but think about him a little. Mostly, I was thinking about what he might be doing right now, as I was riding my bike around some of his favorite desert trails. He was most likely sitting in his same cubicle at work, living for the weekend still. And that thought alone was quite comforting to me as I enjoyed a midweek, post-ride beer in the sunshine with my happy dog lying next to me.
Another place I had been avoiding was actually one of my favorite places in the entire world: Zion National Park. My last visit to this spot was during a really happy time in that relationship and I had been worried about the flood of memories that was sure to come from a return to the park.
This visit to the Zion area had been partly about reclaiming these spots as my own, so it was time to do the same with Zion National Park. Plus, I hadn’t actually been there in the van yet (and Dakota had been left behind for the previous visits as well) and it seemed like the perfect time to make a trip with both of them.
During both of my previous trips to Zion, I had done all the top touristy hikes. I had climbed up to the top of Angel’s Landing at sunrise and spent hours wading down the Virgin River in The Narrows. This time, I wanted to see parts of the park that I hadn’t seen before and take Dakota out on the only dog-friendly trail that Zion offers.
I had also only visited in fall when crowds are still heavy and shuttle lines are long. At the end of January, there isn’t a shuttle, and parking lots never fill up.
Dakota and I began down the Pa’rus Trail, an easy, paved route that takes you past some spectacular canyon views along the Virgin River. For nearly an hour, it was just us and the park. There wasn’t another person around. Campgrounds were closed and there were no sounds of traffic. It was exactly the Zion experience I needed.
We were just a few days shy of my boyfriend’s birthday, so it was time for me to head back to Colorado. We had been away for almost three weeks now. I had loved my time in Utah with my van fam and felt rejuvenated after my little desert vacation, but I was ready to return to winter and see my boys.
We stopped overnight at a snowy Moab campsite before making the rest of the journey. Then we were back to freezing cold and deep snow as we returned to venturing around Gunnison.
Snowy Moab 
A cold, winter sunrise
My boyfriend’s birthday celebration would look similar to mine, starting with another overnight snowcat ride around Crested Butte. This time I got to catch the sunset as we pushed the snow around the slopes.
We spent the night up at Crested Butte and then celebrated with a big birthday breakfast in the camper while the dogs kept us entertained with their morning routine of howling/crying serenades.
Then we piled into the camper, leaving Forrest behind, and drove to Vail. As much as I prefer to always have Forrest for the ease of working and having all of my belongings, it was really nice to drive together and have that time to hang out instead of caravanning like we typically ended up doing. He had convinced me that we only needed one vehicle, and since we had a lot more space in the camper, that was the obvious choice.
He reassured me that I’d be able to teach from the camper and even went as far as setting up my classroom for me and going above and beyond to ensure I had everything I needed. Although leaving the van was a bit more work in some ways, it was definitely nice to only find parking for one vehicle and to let someone else drive for a while.
My boyfriend had spent many years at Vail and was also able to play tour guide for me there. He took me all around the mountain and showed me his favorite spots, including a little log shack tucked away in the woods, complete with functioning window blinds made of sticks.
We splurged and went to a fancy Italian dinner that night, but of course, we went dressed as ourselves, in our flannel and sweatshirts and Carhartts.
We took our time leaving the next day and he took me on a roundabout drive through Carbondale to eat some amazing pizza (White House Pizza, if you’re ever in the area) and then to stop at a roadside hot spring. The hot spring had a few, very shallow pools, that required basically laying flat in order to cover yourself with water, and since it was the middle of winter, it was necessary to be fully submerged. We watched the sunset from the hot springs and then continued our journey home.
I had to work at 1am, which means I was out way past my bedtime. Since I didn’t have to drive, I knew I’d be able to sleep on the way home. Before we had left our campsite to begin our journey back, I had noticed that one of the truck tires seemed low. We had stopped and topped it off with air before making our way back, but it was looking a bit low again.
We left the hot springs and I quickly fell asleep, only to wake up as we pulled into a gas station. My boyfriend said the tire was looking a little low again and put more air into it. We didn’t have too much further to go and would stop once more to top off before getting home.
The next time I woke up, we had pulled off to a gas station that was clearly not open. The snow was over a foot deep to get to the air pump and we knew even if we made it there, the chances of it working were slim. There was a nail in the tire that had been doing a great job of keeping the air in, but as my boyfriend inspected it, he saw that the nail had come out and we were leaking air now. We had a spare tire but had hoped to not deal with changing it until we got home, especially now that it was dark and freezing cold outside.
There wouldn’t be any more gas stations for a while, but we didn’t have a lot of options anymore
We drove a little further, but it wasn’t long before we had to pull over and deal with the tire. My boyfriend insisted that I try and sleep while he changed the tire since I was just a few hours away from starting my workday. I dozed but soon realized that my boyfriend was getting more and more frustrated.
“You know the huge toolbox we took out of the truck so the dogs would fit in the backseat? The tools I need to get the tire off are in there,” he said.
He tore apart the camper looking for anything that could substitute for the tools he needed, but there was nothing. What should have been an easy tire swap for an extremely capable mechanic was now an impossible task.
Normally, I wouldn’t worry about something like this because I can work my job from anywhere and we had a home with us that included a furnace, water, and food. However, we wouldn’t get that lucky. The spot we were in had no cell service.
Nothing with AT&T, nothing with Verizon. We couldn’t even call for a tow truck.
Having very few other options, we slowly drove with a bad tire, hoping that we’d get at least enough service to call for help.
Soon the tire was completely flat and thumped hard against the ground and we had to stop to avoid further damage.
We checked our signals… one bar of AT&T!
He called for a tow truck, which informed us they’d promptly come to our rescue in about 4 hours, well past the time I needed to work.
I hadn’t been panicking up until this point, but now I was facing the possibility of losing my job. My boyfriend made one more phone call with our minimal service and caught the guy who rents the downstairs part of his house just as he was getting into bed.
Within an hour, his renter rolled up and we piled the dogs into his truck and headed for home. I had 15 minutes until work started as we pulled into the driveway.
We had made it, but it was going to be a long morning for both of us. I started work as my boyfriend got into his car, canceled the tow, and drove back to the camper to change the tire with the proper tools.
And that was the last time I ever left Forrest behind again.
And while that statement is true for reasons unrelated to this incident, I have to give my boyfriend some credit.
Obviously, unexpected things happen on the road and although having both vehicles would have saved us in this situation, he did everything he could to get me home in time for work (and he did).
He froze out in the cold and snow trying to get us safely back on the road and never once wanted my help, instead insisting that I try and sleep while I could. Despite our difficult night, I was feeling really thankful for such an awesome partner through it all
I spent a couple more days in Gunnison and then had to head towards Copper Mountain for a doctor’s appointment. I had established care in Frisco, Colorado with a dermatologist who, for the first time in 7 years, had been determined to find a proper treatment for the eczema I had been suffering from for so long.
One of the last dermatologists I had seen back in Salt Lake City had told me that unless I wanted to go on long-term steroid treatments, which have dangerous side-effects, that my eczema would just be something I’d have to live with. He also reassured me that my case wasn’t as bad as some people had it, so I should be thankful (insert eye roll here)
Now having a doctor that actually wanted to help was fantastic, and her proximity to Copper Mountain was even better. But this would also contribute to me being somewhat “stuck” in Colorado over the next few months.
I returned to Copper Mountain and caught the second half of a mid-week powder day. I thought back to my time as a public-school teacher and how many powder days I missed because of my job. Now I had made a life where my work didn’t interrupt my ski season and I still felt the need to pinch myself about that sometimes.
I took a quick break and as I checked Instagram, I noticed some of my van friends from back in Utah had posted from Copper Mountain.
I sent them a text and soon we (David of @gnarwagon and I) were traversing across the mountain in search of powder together. For having homes that can be literally anywhere at any time, it’s always amazing when you happen to be in the same spot as your nomad friend.
I balanced my time between snowboarding and hiking through the snow with Dakota. I also finally spent a day at A-basin ski resort which was a fun change from Copper Mountain.
Soon, the lovely Instagram also informed me that someone I had been trying to meet up with for a while (Andy of @dw_fontana) was also going to be in the same area. A friend from Salt Lake had connected us and for months we had been missing opportunities to meet up. Finally, we were in the same spot.
I have a splitboarding setup but haven’t had many opportunities to use it. Andy spends most of his time in the backcountry so we decided to go for a little splitboarding adventure. Dakota has only been “splitboarding” with me on very short runs to get used to being around me on skis or a board. Andy convinced me to bring her with us and we geared up and hit the trail.
It was a super cold day and Andy and I were both heavily bundled up. I hadn’t thought much about dressing Dakota because she doesn’t get cold easily, especially while doing something active. But as we stopped to catch our breath at one point, Dakota started crying and it definitely seemed like she was cold. We decided to call it and start the journey down to get her to the van.
When you transition from going up to going down with a splitboard though, it takes a minute to get all your gear ready for the descent. As I was doing my best to get ready, my poor pup was freezing. She was trying not to let her paws touch the snow anymore and was trying to sit on my snowboard. I tried to hurry and soon we headed into the powder to get back to the van.
The snow was deep and Dakota, despite her long legs, was nearly up to her head in the snow. She jumped over the snow the best she could, but she was one unhappy dog.
This was my first time using my splitboard through deep powder and it was definitely an adjustment from my resort board, so I was falling quite a bit. This gave Dakota some time to catch up but certainly made our journey back much longer.
When we finally returned to the van, I think we were both a bit traumatized from the adventure together and learned that maybe Dakota’s newest sport wouldn’t be splitboarding.
You don’t get older, you just get better.
Shirley Bassey
