I had just spent the last two days hiking Mt. Elbert, the tallest peak in Colorado, and my body could feel it. 15 miles and over 5,00ft of elevation gain. We were exhausted!
I was back at the campsite that I had shared with my friend Steph, but she was no longer there. Dakota and I stuck around camp for a couple more days, wandering and biking once we recovered from the long hike.
I had plans to be back in Utah in a few weeks, and nowhere to be until then.
Before my hike, I had asked my friends on Instagram about how to get out of a “funk” or get over an ex. The responses I received were interesting but most notable was how some people suggested I go out on a date with someone new and others suggested I swear off guys for a while. I found this division intriguing, so I had people vote.
“After a breakup I…: Dust myself off and put myself out there again OR swear off dating for a bit.” 76% voted that they swear off dating and 24% said they get back out there. What I found most interesting though was how many people felt compelled to not only vote but to send me a message explaining why they picked one or the other. I was also interested to see how many people said, “swear off dating,” who are married, have kids, etc. while single friends made up the majority of that 26% for the opposite choice.
I’ve always been more in the camp of “dust yourself off and get back out there,” and I was feeling ready.
Now the last few times I’ve mentioned putting myself back out there, I’ve also included a phrase such as “go ahead, roll your eyes,” or something along those lines. I’m going to stop saying that.
Because the truth is, this isn’t something that deserves an eye roll.
I realized I’ve been referring to dating like this too often and then feeling frustrated when people actually reacted with an eye roll.
When friends found out I was starting to date again, they reacted with comments such as, “come on, you just need to be alone.”
I love sharing my life with you here on the internet. I love telling my stories and experiences. I often hear how my writing is relatable and often makes the reader feel as if it’s happening to them, which is exactly what you want to hear as a writer.
The flipside of having people connect to my writing is that people put themselves in my shoes and have opinions about my decisions.
At first, the comments immediately made me feel defensive like I needed to explain why I would decide to date again. But then I remembered that the comments and concerns were coming from a place of love, even if I disagreed with the rationale.
What I don’t always talk about is the time I spend alone. You don’t hear about the days where I don’t speak to anyone. You don’t hear about the hours spent hiking where my mind is working through its own version of therapy. I spend a tremendous amount of time alone, processing, and healing.
So when I was told I just needed to be alone, I almost had to laugh. Coming off a few weeks of complete solitude, as well as a few more weeks alone before the caravan, it sometimes feels like all I ever do is spend time alone. Even when I am in a relationship, most of the time I’m alone then too.
I’ve put in the time and energy to love myself and to enjoy being alone, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life solo. I meet a lot of people while hiking or camping but trying to “organically” meet someone who is similar in age, experiences, and is also single just doesn’t seem to happen. But that’s why I’m thankful we live in an age where online dating is pretty much the norm.
After taking the time to process my last relationship and all the other things that had happened over the last few months, I was ready to go on a date again.
So, I downloaded my trusty dating app and soon had a date lined up. My date and I met up at a nearby lake where we chatted and wandered the trail before finding a perfect spot to set up a hammock. It was just my kind of date.
After spending some time relaxing in the hammock, we made our way into the town of Leadville to grab a beer and some pizza (like I said, perfect date). We rounded off the evening with some live music in the form of a one-man band, singing and playing guitar while also playing the tambourine strapped to his foot. He seemed like the kind of guy who likely spent his whole life in this tiny town of Leadville.
The entire date was great, but in my attempt to not get too attached, I already had plans lined up in Crested Butte a few days later, so it was time for me to keep moving on.
I had passed through Crested Butte with the caravan of friends on our way to Taos several months earlier. Crested Butte had been covered in wildflowers at that time and now, instead of flowers, the first signs of autumn were hitting the aspens.
I was excited to be back in Crested Butte because there was so much to hike and bike and I hadn’t been able to do any of it on my last visit. The fact that it also happened to be the location of a guy, with a dog, and a van, who wanted to take me on a date, was the perfect opportunity for me to go back.
This guy was a smooth-talker, charming as can be, and just my type. I had paid for a shower on my way to meet him, even though I knew we planned to go mountain biking, since my last “shower” was a dip in the freezing cold lake after hiking. I was excited to get on my bike, although a small part of me hated putting on my dirty biking clothes and helmet so soon after an expensive shower.
Our ride started with a long climb and the altitude was kicking my butt. He wanted me to lead the way but I refused, for fear of falling in front of him.
We stopped for breaks often and he’d ask me thoughtful questions while I chugged down water and did my best to catch my breath. I’m pretty sure I looked like a sweaty version of the heart-eye emoji.
After each stop, he’d take off ahead of me and then wait for me to catch up a few minutes later. I was cruising down a perfectly easy, straight part of the trail, and suddenly I lost my balance. The next thing I knew I was flat out on the ground. I jumped up, embarrassed, and looked around. To my relief, he was nowhere in sight. I did my best to dust the evidence off my shorts and skin and jumped back on the bike to hurry along so he wouldn’t get suspicious.
The rest of the ride was great. The trail was incredibly scenic and I was having an amazing time. Since we both live in vans, finding a place to rinse off after the ride was top-priority for us both. We loaded both dogs into his van and took a long drive to a lake. I appreciated how loud his van was over the bumpy road.
It was cool and cloudy out, not ideal swimming weather, but we didn’t have many other options. We quickly stripped down to our bathing suits, ran into the lake, and ran back out just as quickly.
We drove back to town, passing two gigantic moose drinking from a pond. We finished up the evening with dinner in the cute town of Crested Butte and then parked our vans down a long forest road, right near where I had stayed on my last visit.
Despite my plan of “don’t get attached,” I could feel myself ready to jump right in. We both worked the next morning and hadn’t talked about any plans to see each other again. After most of the dates I’ve been on this year, a first date typically turned into a week straight of time together. I had nowhere to be for a while and was hopeful that this date would continue that way as well.
This guy was busy though. I saw him for a couple hours the next day, and was left with, “hopefully we can hang out soon.”
I held onto that, patiently waiting to hear from him each day as he got off work only to find out he always had other plans. I was still at “our” campsite, where he had set up his tent to save the spot for us. There was also a pile of chopped firewood, ready for the sunset campfire we never had. I was starting to feel strung along and being there with all his stuff was making me even more frustrated.
I loved this campsite though, the views were perfect, there wasn’t a soul in sight, and the cell service was strong. As much as I wanted to get out of this spot, I also wanted to stay forever.
The only problem with this campsite was the cows.
I had been napping one afternoon when the loudest, “MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” called from what seemed to be right next to my bed. I got up and opened the door, and sure enough, about 10 cows were wandering through my campsite. If you’re new around here, it probably helps to know that I hate cows. I do my best to not be afraid of them, and I’m always still afraid of them.
I waited for the cows to wander to a safe distance away before getting out of the van. That’s when I saw that one of the cows had taken the biggest dump right at the tidy campfire spot that my date had made for us. I couldn’t help but laugh at how ironic that felt.
Instead of waiting around for this guy, I made plans to go out for a drink. I was meeting a new guy down in Crested Butte just as he was getting off work. He warned me that he was in his dirty work clothes, which was perfect because I had just washed my hair in a bowl of water.
We met for a drink and had nice, easy conversation. There weren’t any awkward pauses and I had a good time. We only stayed for one drink and then said goodbye. I loved the distraction from the van guy, but it wasn’t a date that made me feel like I needed to stay in town. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see him again, but maybe I was finally figuring out how to date without getting attached.
I still heard from the van guy, who would charm me via text and keep me hoping that I’d see him again, and each night I’d hear that he wasn’t going to make it back to camp.
I knew I needed a big adventure to shake this feeling of attachment.
I set out with Dakota the next morning to hike Copper Lake, which isn’t too far from where we were camping. The drive to the trailhead was magnificent. We drove down a dirt road lined with aspens that were turning the most striking shade of yellow. The sun was making the leaves glow and the shadows were dancing in flickering patterns across the road.
This hike first leads to a waterfall, just about a mile into the trail. That is the main attraction for most visitors. Dakota and I passed several people on the way to the falls, but once we passed this point, it was just the two of us on the trail.
We had a spectacular day for a hike, with perfect weather and comfortable temperatures. I was happy to have the trail to myself to let my thoughts just wander.
I stopped to take some pictures when I heard a rustling sound coming from some tall bushes down by the river. I watched the bushes shaking, waiting to see what I was certain would be a moose. I could see its brown fur as it shook the bushes harder.
Then I heard the terrible sound of mooing echoing off the mountainside. This was not a moose-sighting. This was a herd of cows.
Real-life mooing is nothing like we learn about as children. Real cows mooing out in the wild sound more like a moo-scream. It’s shrill and terrifyingly loud. Dakota and I dodged cow pies along the trail and the cows stayed near the river so we could maintain a safe distance.
Eventually though, the trail crossed the river. I rounded a corner and could hear the rushing water, which I knew Dakota would be desperate to drink from. As our view opened to the water, we came upon a wall of cows.
The giant beasts stopped drinking, lifted their heads, and turned to face us, letting out a moo that shook the ground.
Dakota was unphased as she marched her way down to the water. I gave myself a pep talk, reminding myself that these are just stupid cows and that they’re dumb and won’t hurt me. In fact, they’re probably scared of me.
The big cows stepped back into the river and resumed drinking. Dakota drank from the river too and I watched as a baby cow curiously approached Dakota. Although it was a baby, it was still as tall as me. It had a Dakota-like stance though and I couldn’t help but find it kind of cute. I watched it get closer and closer, following behind Dakota and she sniffed around. Then suddenly Dakota changed direction, turning quickly back towards the baby cow. The cow startled her and she jumped back just as the cow took off running in the opposite direction, terrified by Dakota’s sudden movements.
It was time for us to cross the river. I took a deep breath, mustered every ounce of courage, and approached the water. Dakota was several steps ahead of me, making her way closer to the wall of cows that were still in the river. I was trying not to get my shoes wet by jumping from rock to rock when suddenly one of the cows turned and charged at Dakota, sending us both running back to the other side of the river.
We were outnumbered and it turns out I was still very much afraid of cows.
There appeared to be another trail that ran parallel to the river, so we started to go down that, hoping it would eventually cross where there weren’t any cows.
The trail got narrower and narrower and the bushes got higher and higher around us. Soon I realized that if we came upon a cow, or any animal for that matter, we’d be stuck. I was feeling fairly certain that this was not actually part of the trail, and the only way to our destination would be to turn around and cross the river.
We journeyed back and I hoped and hoped that none of the cows had decided to follow us, blocking our exit. They hadn’t. They were still in the river instead.
I couldn’t just give up on this hike and I also couldn’t waste any more time or we’d end up in the dark. It was time to get serious.
There were a few big walking sticks that were left along the edge of the river for helping with this wider river crossing. My stick wouldn’t be used for walking though, it was now my weapon. I grabbed it and started waving it around, shouting at the cows and making sure Dakota kept her distance this time. The cows responded well to my craziness and wandered off down the river.
We hiked and hiked and hiked. There were still no people around and eventually no more cows either. The trail got steep and I was getting tired and worried about the time. I kept looking on the map and trying to decide if we actually had enough time to make it to the lake.
Soon we passed a family on their way down from the lake. They reassured me that I didn’t have too much further to go, so I kept on trudging.
Then the trail flattened out and down below was Copper Lake. We had the whole place to ourselves.
There is a tiny peninsula that juts out into the lake, so Dakota and I walked out onto it and climbed up to the highest point. I ate a snack and soaked up the views, feeling so thankful that I had pushed on past the cows to get here.
Our hike down was easier and the cows seemed to have moved on because I didn’t spot a single one the rest of the way.
In just another day it would be my one year “vanniversary”. 365 days of living full-time on the road in my van.
I didn’t have any plans to mark this day, it would pretty much just be like any other day for us.
Until I heard from the guy I had grabbed a drink with a few nights before. He invited me to breakfast followed by mountain biking the lift-accessed terrain at Crested Butte resort.
It sounded like a fun way to spend the day, certainly better than spending it alone, and I had enjoyed our time together before so why not?
The next morning on my way to breakfast, I was driving into downtown Crested Butte and as I pulled up to a stop sign, my heart dropped. Turning towards me was a big, white van, with a bearded man and a dog riding shotgun. He waved and smiled and I wanted to disappear. A moment later I got a text, “stop being such a babe.” I was instantly furious.
Doing my best to shake off the rollercoaster of emotions, I pulled into the parking lot next to my date’s truck.
He had already put our names in for breakfast but wanted to grab a coffee for us to walk with as we made our way down the cute little town of CB.
He has a shy smile and was cuter than I remembered. We took our coffees and walked to breakfast, enjoying the beautiful, sunny weather.
As soon as we turned the corner to the restaurant, I saw the van again, parked in the lot across the street. I was terrified of running into him and hated that I felt distracted while on my current date. Eventually, I got sucked into the conversation and didn’t give van guy another thought.
After breakfast, we ventured to the resort to ride. I changed into my bike clothes and hopped out of the van.
“Where are your knee pads?” he asked.
Knee pads?! What kind of biking were we about to do?? I warned him that I was barely an intermediate rider at best. Now he was wondering why I didn’t have knee pads. Then he pulled out his full-face helmet and I had a feeling I was in way over my head.
We took the chairlift up and although it wasn’t my first time on a chairlift without a snowboard, it’s always a bizarre feeling.
We grabbed our bikes at the top, got on, and then sat there chatting. While I love a bike date, it’s hard to get to know someone while you’re both off riding. I was enjoying getting to know him better than on our first date and was finding myself more and more attracted to him.
Again, I insisted that he go ahead first and I’d follow behind him, just in case I fell again. He’d ride ahead and wait for me where he could.
Just as I was getting up to an intersection where he was stopped, I looked over my shoulder to make sure nobody was coming on the intersecting trail, and before I knew it I was sprawled out on the trail, right in front of him.
Well, there goes being cool.
We biked a bit more before he wanted us to go to a different run. He led the way and I followed, but as I got to the trail, I approached a sign that said, “Jumping skills required.” I hit the brakes. My date was already too far ahead for me to call to him and I didn’t have his phone number. I had no choice but to follow him.
It quickly got steep and the turns were so sharp that I could barely walk the bike through them. My date was waiting for me up the trail a few turns ahead. I told him about the sign and that I was thinking I might just hike back up the trail and find another way down. He reassured me that there was a bailout point ahead and that I’d be fine to continue on. So I did.
The trail eased up a bit and the “jumps” were small enough that I could roll through them. I was actually enjoying the challenge.
My date stopped to check on me and we were both commenting on how the trail was much better in this section. He admitted that he actually didn’t know if there was a bailout point but that he was glad I didn’t hike out, ha!
He took off down the trail and I realized that this next section was steep and super rocky. I did exactly what I shouldn’t have done, riding the brakes and keeping my speed to almost nothing, which sent me toppling off my bike and landing butt-first on the rocks.
I got to my feet and grabbed at my pants, feeling sure that I’d find a gigantic hole and an exposed butt. The good news was my pants were completely intact. The bad news was that the fall HURT. I was still assessing the damage when I happened to look up and see a guy waiting at the top of the hill that I had so gracefully slid down and he was now waiting for me to stop looking at my tush so that he could come down the trail. I was mortified.
I let him pass me and admitted to my fall when I met back up with my date. He had seen me fall earlier so there was no use pretending at this point.
I was in pain and was ready to call it quits, so we finished up the run and headed back to the parking lot.
I was enjoying my time with him and found myself wanting to know everything about him. I wasn’t ready for our date to be over. He mentioned he had plans to go to a barbecue, but when I told him I was going to take Dakota for a walk, he asked if he could join with his dog.
We walked a long way, both not wanting the date to come to an end. After the walk, I invited him to come back to camp for a beer.
“Sure, I could stay for one beer.”
Well, he never went to the barbecue that night.
The next day we relaxed in the sunshine and chatted the day away. He had plans to meet up with his parents but wanted to see me again that night.
“How about you come 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. A shower, dinner, AND camping at a spot that I was desperate to visit again after my last time through. Perfect.
Love waits for all of us quietly in that place where no one is looking.
Atticus
