Whoa, I need to get it together. Looks like I haven’t posted in over a year, which is crazy since puhlenty has been happening! How many wood-turned bowls have I made since my last blog? (Lots—and thank goodness they’re looking better and better!)
At this moment, no news competes with the pandemic affecting the world. COVID-19, a coronavirus, is threatening the health of everyone and yet little is known about it or when/if there will be a remedy. In response the world is shutting down! “Social distancing” and “flattening the curve” mean thousands of businesses are sending employees home to work remotely, families are ransacking grocery stores and isolating, schools have announced month-long closures and most events across the globe are being cancelled. People are dying by the thousands! Every industry is affected and the stock markets have crashed.
What seems the plot for a doomsday movie is shockingly real.
It feels as though there is little anyone can do besides lay low and try to dodge infection or infecting others. Those who are 60 or older, especially any with medical issues that already exist, know to avoid exposure, because they are most vulnerable to the virus’ effects.
The financial ramifications around the planet are dire.
Life, though, has a way of going on, even in the face of craziness and loss, doesn’t it? It won’t stop for most, even during what verges on worldwide panic.
My update may feel a little trivial… but the timing is surely providential.
Next month, my year of planning (and daydreaming) will end as I load up my very specific backpack with very specific items that my research says will help sustain me during five months of hiking along a western trail that stretches from the border of Mexico upward to Canada. I must admit it seems a great time to retreat into nature, far from cities and the petri dish of society.
Yes, I’m going to walk a very long way, hour after hour, day after day, despite it being an unfathomable struggle. I’m told it will also include unparalleled joy!
Sometimes I’ll stop in a town and inhale a burger or three. I’ll bathe. I’ll wash my one outfit. I’ll prop up my feet and air out my toes.
Then I’ll find my way back to the Pacific Crest Trail and continue putting one foot in front of the other. You can follow my journey here.
At times I feel the need to conjure a reasonable explanation for why I feel compelled to do such a thing, but in truth it’s simple: I just want what the trail offers.
I want to move forward.
It’s what we do, anyway, right? Life is meant to be a verb. Even if we have a setback, whether it be sickness, loss or just a funk, eventually we find our way from the couch to our feet. We move on.
Of course, that’s not always easy.
I’m pretty sure easy is not why we’re here. Well it is and it isn’t… and that’s a big deal.
Hang on and I’ll explain.
A few years ago, I woke up with what felt like sudden clarity about “why we’re even on this earth.” Sure I’ve been in church my whole life and have led my own children and quite a few girls toward faith through their school years. I’ve tried to pour wisdom into them, since lawd knows confusion trips up all of us as we try to grow into our best selves. Yet I found that even I have been perplexed about why God would bother to create us. Truth is we’re a helluva hassle. So why on earth would we be worth that?
It hit me and I was awakened that day with a solid answer fully formed:
We’re here to Experience.
Not just experience, but EXPERIENCE! We share this strand of life and what we do affects each other, though we’re given free will to make our own choices. This free will thing is the game changer. What better way for God… and ultimately us… to Experience every possible variation of everything there is to experience… through each other… without controlling ANY of it??
You don’t even have to believe in a Supreme Being to recognize how fascinating that would be! Through God… through this force of LIFE that connects us all… everything is shared and through each other everything is Experienced.
(It’s why we should care what’s happening to people we don’t even know.)
So no experience is unworthy and every single one has value… whether easy, difficult, heart wrenching, uplifting, trivial, scandalous, inspirational, detached, unwise, inventive… no matter what.
We’re never truly alone in whatever it is we’re experiencing.
I find that thought… who can say for sure what’s true… to be empowering.
It means I can just be me.
Being goofy, disappointing and embarrassingly inept at times is perfect. How else would those particular experiences from my perspective be known? That goes for everything else I may be in a day. On some level every experience is shared with each other. My courage is your courage and your fear is mine. At the end of the day, we really are the same.
We are never insufficient; we fulfill our purpose, no matter who we are in any moment. I see that as an invitation to embrace and try to understand myself and each other with compassion. (Even if we don’t, hey, that’s another Experience!
It’s. all. valid.
Lest that convince someone they can be horrible, it’s a universal truth that consequence for all behavior, good or bad, is a given. (That, too, is Experience and it can suck.)
Brilliant!
Anyway. I’ve gone down some interesting rabbit holes pondering my theory/epiphany and these days it seems I’ll have plenty of time for more. I’ll even see some real rabbits along the way.
First things first, though. Next week I’ll have a doctor visit to follow up on a red flag in a recent lab test. That means going to a medical office in the midst of an international crisis that no one wants to lead to a medical office. It’s unlikely that what they’ll find will unveil bad news, but we always wonder, don’t we? The good news is I learned a long time ago to trust Life’s unfolding. I truly do.
My intention, each and every day, is to face the future with curiosity, hope and occasional wisdom. Do what you can to stay safe out there and remember to make the most of y(our) Experience!
After all, we’re in this together. ♥
   I’ve noticed that when I have an experience that feels deeply significant, I go quiet. After hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu in Peru for my 50th, it took awhile to write about it. Same with the 100-mile kayaking trips through Utah’s serene and stunning canyons each spring. The words sit inside me and incubate while my emotions sift themselves outward.
This weekend felt that way. A year ago, we moved west… all the way west from all the way east… and said hello to everything we did not yet know. I thought it was to be the ultimate opportunity to roadtrip and explore, but what I’ve found is that I finally want to stay in what is now home. We love the close friendships that we’ve quickly formed here. As you know, I also tackled an unconventional (for a girl), manually physical craft. Learning to create woodturned bowls on a spinning lathe using a variety of chisels from what would otherwise be firewood has rooted me somehow. Each morning, I wonder what’s about to emerge from the broken. It’s a metaphor, see? And literally inspiring.
This weekend, I was fortunate enough to be part of something longstanding in this new world we’ve joined. The Arts Council of Placer County (which sounds formal, but is really just a collection of locals dedicated to fostering the creation and sharing of local art) kicked off… for the 25th time… its annual self-guided driving tour along a route that visits 75 artists in the places where they create. Quarter of a century this has been going on! Anyway, I somehow got added to the ranks and it meant scurrying a bit to create enough inventory to sell. I didn’t want people to show up and feel their time had been wasted.
Something important happened before the show ever began… I chose calm. Seriously. I was intentional. Every time I was tempted to get all angsty (ok, anxious) about being a beginner, I chose calm. When it occurred to me that people (including some experienced turners) would watch me turn… hour after hour… in my home shop that we’ve cobbled together… I chose calm. When I found out my mentor who was scheduled to show alongside me had to instead travel to Arizona… I chose calm. When the big day neared and my inventory numbers were lagging… I chose calm. When I recalled two days before the show that I needed a registered California sales permit… I chose calm.
Know what happened as a result? The entire experience was a joy. Seriously, I loved every minute of planning and preparation that led up to it and the three-day event… long 10a-5p days… was such a pleasure that I was stunned by the simplicity of it all.
As I say this I wonder if your first thought is to assume it’s easier for me to choose calm, because Jim clears a path. Yes, in many ways it is. I’m lucky to have someone who cheers my every move and believes I’m capable of achieving any dream. He’s also a hard worker and was the ultimate logistics foreman, setting up/breaking down tables and chairs without complaint and cooking, as he loves to do, for everyone who was willing to eat and wandered near. He told me a million times how proud he is of me.
We have a posse of friends who enthusiastically showed up to pitch in, too. On Friday, Ingrid and her husband Steve showed up at 8am on his day off and their daughter’s birthday to help set up tents and tables and begin greeting the first visitors. Our buddy (who feels like family) Mark flew in from Boulder, Colorado, to help out. I received a gorgeous mid-morning sunflower bouquet from my awesome in-laws, a total surprise that further brightened the day! Saturday, Jen, a superstar friend/coordinator, and our neighbor Ted spent the entire day making things run smoothly. Each time a car arrived, he raced over to escort the guests and park their car. Valet service on our dirt road! Jen had sales hopping. Saturday night, 18 of our close friends who attended gathered to share dinner at our house and celebrate the big weekend. It was such a great way to wrap up a fun day! Sunday, Jen and Mark continued to help alongside Jim.
Meanwhile, I turned bowls and explained the process to the guests who continued to arrive. Oh how they continued to arrive! Twenty-five guests signed up to receive my as-yet-nonexistent newsletter on Friday and at least twice that many dropped in. Saturday easily doubled that. Sunday was busy, again, though the stock was nearly gone by midday. Each time I decided to take a break and headed up our hill to snag a bite of lunch, the Kubota loaned to us by friends Richard and Leslie for the weekend was bringing down more visitors who wanted to watch… so around I turned and picked up where I’d left off. It was exhausting, I suppose… yes I discovered on Monday when I crashed all day just how tired I actually was… but at the time it felt exhilarating. People were curious!! Few things thrill me more.
At the end of the weekend, of the 50 bowls and vessels we had at the start only five of Andy’s and three of mine were left! That felt miraculous… and sure it excites me to know there are a few dollars now in the new account… but genuinely the best part is the people who poured in to find out about this craft. I made new friends and perhaps a few woodturning converts.
Know something? Even with my husband’s and friends’ tireless encouragement and help, I could have still chosen overwhelm and chaos. There were a lot of balls in the air and a LOT going on. Choosing calm transformed the experience… and I believe is one of the qualities that draws people closer and perhaps even influences my life to be so darn good. I’ve followed my Aunt Linda’s lead and choose three daily C’s: calm, curiosity and cheer [amended – see post script]. (Hers are coffee, cigarettes and Conway Twitty. Hey, we’re from the South!) While I can’t vouch for hers, I highly recommend mine. (Ha)
To each of you who purchased a bowl, I hope you caress it often and whisper occasionally that it’s still valued, despite its previous crash. It will love you back. Please don’t just make it a pretty something never used. Its foodsafe oil finish means it can be put to work often!
If you bought, helped, visited, expressed interest or gave encouragement, I enthusiastically thank you! The weekend blew me away and I’m so grateful!
❤️❤️❤️
[Post Script: It didn’t feel quite right to say one of my three C’s is cheer. Sure, you see me smiling a lot and that’s real. But, actually, there are plenty of times when I don’t choose cheer. It would feel artificial and, quite frankly, sometimes it’s all I can do to shower. I can be a bittuva hermit (and it kinda suits me). It was that way right after this show weekend. Monday, I accomplished NOTHING and my demeanor matched. I was tired and maybe even wallowing in a bit of post-show funk. It had been so exhilarating to be surrounded by such curious people! Maybe the limelight even felt intoxicating. Anyway, I knew I could choose cheer, just as I can choose calm. I chose funk…. and then, as anyone does who gets up and does what needs to be done, I eventually chose courage. Sitting on the ledge of Angel’s Landing with my legs dangling over isn’t the only place courage surfaces. It’s the sheer force of moving toward what you want most… despite fear or near-paralyzing immobility. So that’s my true third C that I try my best to embrace: courage. Even if it just means getting up and going to step into the shower at last. Three days later.]
October 31, 2018
Filed in Life
Yes, you’re in the right place!
Please feel free to contact me with any questions about my bowl turning or special requests. I’ll be delighted to help!
P.S. I’m Stop # 21 on the Placer County Artists Studio Tour in Auburn, California Nov 9-11, 2018. Come see me turn and check out my latest selection of bowls for purchase.
I try to slow down often to listen to my gut. You know, just be… and hear what needs to be heard.
It’s simpler, mind you, to do Life every other way—especially with a cell phone that fits snugly in our grip and is so connected to relentless information, drama and distraction. Heck I don’t really have to think at all, anymore. I can just surf the Web… all. day. long.
Scroll, scroll, scroll.
Even most who work in offices know it’s true: We are addicted. Literally.
When I stop long enough to read my own cues, it’s apparent that it’s time to disconnect from the phone and reconnect with what genuinely, soulfully feeds me.
“Get outside,” my psyche whispers. “Inhale… exhale… smile.”
It’s connection that I crave. To myself… to you… to what is real.
No two people are quite the same (though I’m certain we are One), but for me what feels connected and restorative is nature. God feels tangible there. I still touch the bark of trees and marvel as I wander past. I see a dirt trail and am rarely happier than when I drift along it to its end. I stop to gaze at the bedazzled night sky and my mouth falls open in awe. (Seriously.) “Just wow,” I whisper, reverently.
I’m grateful and, yes, curious. I wonder about stuff. Why don’t hummingbirds get along? Where do butterflies hide in Florida? What was it like to head west before there were roads?
It’s no secret to those who know me that I’ve long been drawn westward… the mountains, the grandeur, the still, endless vistas, the chaotic colors of canyons, the magnificence of the Pacific cliffs. Our visit to Utah six months ago left us hungry for more. Oh I love many other places, too, and few hold my heart like the cabin we’ve tucked into Alabama’s uppermost foothills… it’s where we poured ourselves into sharing nature with our children, who are now young adults and love it, too. The cabin will always be home and it’s likely where we’ll breathe last.
Still, the pull toward the other sea…
Two weeks ago, we began a roadtrip that, for us, has been unlike any other. As the city lights of Chicago faded behind me, I cheerfully said goodbye to what has been our second home the past 18 months.
First racing alone toward Nebraska, gradually my breathing slowed and so did my pace. Always a fan of car camping and its simplicity, I slept cozily in a Lincoln Walmart parking lot, tucked amongst a dozen behemoth RVs. Potter is the ultimate electric blanket! Sunrises and sunsets kept us company along the way.
Meandering over to Denver, I had dinner with my friend Serenity (sweet name, sweet girl) before meeting up with Jim, who flew in. Though I didn’t get any pictures this time, thanks to Mark and Shelley Scott for letting us crash in your basement and shower every time we pass through Boulder!
Together Jim and I (and Potter, of course!) crossed up and over the Continental Divide and through glorious stands of glowing, shimmering, golden aspens.
Though we could’ve lingered in what is surely autumn’s finest display, Utah was insistently beckoning and we continued on to camp in Moab.
Ah, Moab.
Pictures say it far, far better than words.
Gorgeous, right?!?
We also met my awesome photographer friend Emily Klarer and her boyfriend for lunch. Bonus!
From there we wove our way north to Ogden, where we got to hang out with new friends from my spring women’s retreat.
Alas the weather didn’t cooperate for a planned hike and kayaking in Salt Lake’s mirror glow, so we continued to push west. If we’d had the time, we would’ve turned north to take in the glorious sights of Jackson Hole, Wyoming—my best friend from high school lives there—and kayak/camp in the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho.
Instead, heading due west on Highway 80, we crossed the Bonneville Salt Flats and it seemed we’d crossed into another world. Like Salt Lake, the sheen casts a glow that is ethereal. With thunder clouds in the area and recent rain, the flats looked like a pond but were glistening salt. Just wow!
Though highway travel is nothing like drifting along behind the scenes, capturing the true character of small towns and vast fields, the topography’s continual change toward mountains was exciting. The thrilled churning in my gut whispered soon, soon. (No, it wasn’t time for a bathroom break. Ha)
With little fanfare, we passed Reno, crossed Donner’s Pass and the WELCOME TO CALIFORNIA sign whizzed past before I could sling my camera into position.
We had arrived… to our new Home!
Seriously!!
Jim has accepted a new job in Sacramento (!!!) and we’re buzzing around, figuring things out. Truth be told, I’m still pinching myself… there is more to explore than I can wrap my head around! Now we have San Francisco, Lake Tahoe and Napa Valley out our back door (don’t worry… we’re still a bit over an hour away from the terrible fires right now) and Potter will have sheep — yes, SHEEP — to herd in the pasture beside us.
Our AWESOME new neighbors welcomed us with this sign, which made it much easier to find our way in the dark of our first arrival.
You know us—we’ll enjoy exploring so many hiking, kayaking and ski trails and are already diving in. Also, I’m told we have fig, apple, cherry, peach and olive trees on our property — how cool is that?! We hope to grow our first garden and finally work on our diet/fitness. Middle age has been brutal on our waists!
Last week, we visited a dear friend and kayaked in Bend, Oregon (here’s looking at YOU, Polly Wog!), also a new (and deliriously happy) transplant from Atlanta. Celebrating Jim’s birthday at Crater Lake, which has been near the top of our bucket list for YEARS, was spectacularly beautiful and fun. Perhaps best of all, it’s a mere day drive from the house we’ve suddenly filled.
This past weekend, we headed down the coast a bit to explore Monterey and Big Sur. Just a few hours away, they’re practically our backyard now! Pinch me… but don’t wake me up!!
Along the drive, I came to a grand celebration at a newly built bridge. The old, multi-span bridge had been demolished and redesigned after a mudslide disconnected the Hwy 1 scenic route just south of Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park. It was actually fascinating listening to the speeches and hearing the details of the new design and construction. (I might’ve briefly hijacked the ribbon-cutting scissors.)
As the bridge speeches and hoopla were winding down and people were drifting over to the free taco truck, I approached a woman with beautiful eyes (above) and told her I’d really like to hike the trail they’d been trekking for months while the bridge was out. A ranger told me it is to be eliminated next week since the path will now spill out onto a highway with 50mph traffic. She described how I could find it and so I reverently walked alone along the dirt trail through the towering trees, then found my way through the campground on the other side of the ravine back to my car. I was smiling as I resumed my journey.
I love that our home will be Auburn (California), since Savannah and Corey also live in Auburn (Alabama)! Everyone we’ve met so far has been warm and welcoming, we have a few close friends who live nearby and we’re excited about joining another great community!
Having said that, it’s going to be a huge change and we’re naturally a bit sad and nervous about being so far from most of our friends and family. Wish us luck as we tackle something oh so new — and come see us.
Above all, listen to your own gut and honor, in the ways that feel personal and fulfilling, being Alive!
One of the best things about road trips is DISCOVERY! There is so much new and unknown to explore. If I was ever afraid of going where I know so little, I’m not anymore, because I’ve experienced time and again that sweet sense of achievement and satisfaction after racing headfirst toward my fears and finding them not so big and bad after all.
The beginning of the trail to Angel’s Landing didn’t seem so bad. Still not dying OK these switchbacks were a challenge! They call them the wiggles. You know I always have to find a ledge! Tough to capture the beauty… need a (probably illegal) drone! Ah, sweet success! So after I’d spent a week on a kayak and then another week wandering solo, car camping around Utah, I was especially excited to head to the women’s event I’d found was taking place exactly where I was already planning to be. Moab has long been one of my favorite places on the planet. It’s chock full of people who love to get outside and enjoy nature and oh my goodness the canyons!
And She’s Dope Too (ASDT) is an organization created by a wonderful young woman, Jenn Killian, and her awesome husband Taylor. Jenn kept seeing Instagram photos of model-perfect women posing in adventure environments and thought, “What about me and all the women who love the outdoors, but aren’t (in the eyes of the world) physically perfect? We’re dope, too!” So she formed outings, events and retreats in which every woman can enjoy nature together without judgment or fear of body shaming.
I stumbled across the retreat (they call them Rendezvous or “roos”) on Instagram and even after begging my way into the weekend, which had long been sold out, I was unsure I’d fit in. The majority of the girls signed up are muchhh younger than I am and honestly the older I’ve gotten, the more of a happy loner I’ve become. Still I was intrigued and simply yearned to sit around the campfire with all these women who love nature and the west as I do.
After I arrived and checked in, I eyed an encampment of tents amidst the canyon walls with women milling around in one area, a stretch of van dwellers parked in another—and I pitched my tent alone by my car instead. If I didn’t decide to stay, I made it easy to bail… ha!
Sunrise at camp I created my own little loner spot! lol Still unsure but nestled (hiding) in my hammock My motto! And She’s Dope, Too has an awesome leadership team! Yoga in the canyon Shawnee is my hero… she squeezed me onto the weekend roster when I begged to attend! Shawnee (yes, another one) is a nature warrior… and hilarious! Ingrid and Milly tugged me out of my little enclave and made sure I had fun! Love ’em! I’m embarrassed now to admit it, but I didn’t participate in a single hike (or mountain biking or rock climbing outing) all weekend. Content after kayaking and hiking Angel’s Landing in Zion National Park the day before, I opted instead to drive into town alone for breakfast both mornings while everyone else took to the canyon trails.
Truth? It was wonderful. I sat in air conditioning, sipped my coffee and smiled. THIS is the benefit of being over 50! You decide how you want to live and you live it.
I did sign up for stand-up paddleboarding, since that sounded peaceful and I envisioned something incredibly serene, drifting along with the new friends I’d make.
Aw hail naw.
In the van on the way to the Colorado River, a young woman sat beside me and said she was delighted to meet me. “Everyone is talking about you by our tents,” she said, beaming. Huh? A bit alarmed, I asked her why. “You are inspiring,” she said. That made no sense to me until I realized ohhh my age! They were delighted to see someone a generation older (a white-haired lady, no less) traversing the country alone and doing the things they love. That was an aha! moment for me that it’s important to honor your inner voice, even if it’s sometimes unconventional!
That was all warm and fuzzy until we got to the shore. To my shock and utter horror, I discovered when we unloaded that we were expected to paddleboard our way through a set of three rapids on the rushing Colorado River! I had basically signed up for paddleboard surfing! (If you’ve never seen it, check it out on YouTube… OMG!)
I knewwww I didn’t belong… but I also refused to back out after just having been told that I was inspirational! Ha! I was stuck. After brief instruction by two rockstar women, I decided what the heck, let’s get this over with and plunged in with the others. It was unnerving… and awesome! Sure I came right off my board in the first set of rapids, but just climbed right back on. That’s how Life works, right? There were stretches of serenity as we drifted with the current through the soaring canyon walls—and then we’d tackle a new set of rapids. I loved the camaraderie that quickly formed and the day set the tone for the rest of my weekend. How different would it surely have been if I’d crawled back into the paddleboard van without trying—or bailed on the weekend altogether?!
My SUP sistas :) (Seriously? My new blog system keeps flipping images and I have no idea how to fix it. lol) Sorry this one is flipped, but I couldn’t leave Laura out. We’re two peas in a pod! I never got pictures of the rapids, but things were just a tad chaotic then! Natalie was one of our fearless leaders—and I mean FEARLESS! Happy to be upright! Bri is an Instagram sensation and one of the most down-to-earth (literally—she and her husband live in their van with their two awesome dogs) women you’ll ever meet. She’s surprisingly shy for someone who’s not. She’s gonna be a massively successful author soon.
Birds of a similarly aged feather flock together!
Gradually I did meet lots of girls, all of whom I now completely adore, and had a fantastic time. I was super lucky that Jenn’s mom and aunt had come along for adventure (and to babysit—ASDT is a family affair for the founders); we’re the same age and had a ton of fun together. By Saturday night, I’d somehow joined the lineup of speakers addressing everyone gathered around the campfire and I even got to show off my favorite party trick spewing fire! I’m so proud of the ASDT organization and all they’re growing together. It’s a community that embodies so much that matters deeply to me: nature, an active, adventurous lifestyle, genuine connection and acceptance!
I could write an entire new post just on the remarkable women that I met… and perhaps I will. Rather than singling anyone out here (and potentially leaving someone out because of my slack brain), I’ll just say WOW! All of these girls have got it going on!!
Too soon it was time to leave, but I was psyched to learn there are many chances throughout each year to join in their fun, including backpacking treks to help women become more comfortable in rugged terrain and away from the comforts of home. From afar Jim treated me to a hotel (and shower) in Moab, plus an opportunity to do laundry after the weekend retreat. One of the girls I’d just met took the spare bed and we had a blast. I love how quickly trusting, new friendships can form!
That night, I was excited to head out for something ridiculously fun that should have been on my bucket list—if only I’d known it existed! I met Emily Klarer, a local adventure photographer, at one of Moab’s most spectacular BLM spots. It. was. STUNNING! I’m normally behind the camera lens, but this time I got to prance around the rocks, beaming for the camera and knowing she’d capture something special.
So how did the shoot even happen? Simple… I saw some images she’d taken of new friends in spectacular locations and decided I’d love some, too! I won’t always be so young (ha) and am so glad I’ll have these photos to reminisce about the days I had absolutely no fear of heights. Plus she was so awesome to be around and I’m lucky to know her! Who knew there are photographers eager to take you out of your comfort zone and into theirs so you can freeze forever a few blissful moments of bold and daring?!
The next morning, before heading out of town, I had one last task to accomplish: I wanted a tattoo to commemorate this awesome time of my Life. Seriously! I had designed my own awhile back and this seemed to be the perfect getaway to commemorate my nature connection. So did it hurt? A tad, but by the time it occurred to me to flinch, it was done! I absolutely love it, by the way… another good thing about my age is there’s no room for regrets!
From Moab I was lucky enough to visit a dear friend and her husband in Montrose, Colorado. Their home practically teeters over the roaring Uncompaghre River in a pastoral setting and I loved watching the marmots play nearby. Karen and Bill were so generous in pampering and driving me to the area’s many beautiful towns… such mesmerizing vistas! Telluride was my favorite and I know I’ll be back someday.
When I left, my drive meandered through the college town of Durango and then over the notoriously frightening (and staggeringly beautiful) Wolf Creek Pass, with relentless switchbacks and 200-foot dropoffs, on Highway 160. Rather than waiting until morning, I got impatient and foolishly decided to cross at night, in total darkness—and SNOW! It was beautiful… and I confess a bit terrifying on the turns, even for me. It was a white out and I practically hugged the tail lights of the car in front of me. The beauty, though, is what sticks with me. Crazy pretty!
After crossing the mountains, I meandered my way to Denver, stopping along the way to car camp and chase interesting sights (and sites). Part of what I love most about traveling solo is the ability to divert when road signs point to something unexpected and interesting
Finally it was time to reconnect with my husband, daughter and son, who flew in to join me at the home of close friends in Boulder, Colorado. We spent Mother’s Day together, wandering around Rocky Mountain National Park and Estes Park. It was a perfect day/weekend and I couldn’t imagine a better finale to an epic series of adventures!
Ok so I’ve gotta admit… as Jim and I headed from Moab to the Salt Lake City airport with our buddy Scott, after a tremendous week of kayaking down the Green River through some of Utah’s most beautiful canyons, my inner voice was aggressively second guessing… well, ME.
“What are you doingggg??” it pestered. As the guys headed back east for work, my plan was to stay an extra two weeks to meander around the state car camping. Then I would drive to Denver, where Jim had a meeting scheduled, to meet him and our kids for Mother’s Day. “You’ve had such a great time together and why on earth aren’t you leaving, too? Who thought this is a good idea? Tell me again… WHERE are you gonna sleep?!”
I felt a little sick to my stomach and seriously considered booking a last-second flight to go with them. My pride, however, was obstinate.
“You’ve already talked up how great this is going to be… and what an ADVENTURER you are. This is a rare chance to explore like this. You can’t back out now!”
Feeling conflicted but smiling bravely, I dropped them at the curb and waved goodbye. Then the most remarkable thing happened. As if a switch had been flipped, I suddenly felt energized! It was liberating to pull away from the curb with zero pressure to be anywhere at a particular time. No one was waiting for me and I only had vague, stress-free plans for the journey ahead. My smile deepened and finally felt real. Plugging my first stop, Antelope Island, into the GPS, I patted my camera and headed north. I knew there would be bison and a beautiful sunset reflected across the salt lake’s dazzling sheen to make the drive worthwhile!
Sure enough, the scenery there was beautiful. Time and again I pulled to the curb, not worrying about annoying anyone or killing a schedule if I did a u-turn and hung out until I got the shot I knew could happen. Unlike the last time I’d been there, little clouds of frenzied insects buzzed around me, so I grabbed my images as best I could and then raced back to the car. I was mesmerized by the light and peaceful reflections and scurried into place to shoot herds of buffalo grazing at the shoreline far beyond me.
Rather than wait for darkness, I made the decision to head back south toward Arches National Park and beyond to Moab. BLM (Bureau of Land Management) lands are public, so basically owned and funded by us as taxpayers, and it’s legal to park/camp there—typically without cost. I wasn’t sure exactly how to find the BLM lands, mind you. Getting close seemed to be the best first step and onward I drove.
The first night turned out to be a mess. Despite meeting a park ranger at the gas pump (I basically saw her and stalked her for a map, but she was super gracious and pointed out all of the good BLM spots), I decided to camp out the first night in the rear parking lot of a Pizza Hut. At least people would be around, right? Well that was silly. I pulled in and began to set up my sleeping arrangement, trying not to look too obvious. I inflated my backseat air mattress (one of my favorite Amazon purchases EVER since it gives me the ability to drive solo and cozily sleep when necessary), set up my wool blanket window screen and crawled into the backseat.
Bright lights and a generator nearby proved sleep was not going to happen—plus I was pretty nervous that I’d doze off and be towed. A restaurant employee made several trips past me, rumbling rolling trash cans to the dumpster. Each time I would lean up, peer out my window surreptitiously and then slide back onto my pillow. Finally the restaurant closed and it was just me and my absolute insomnia.
I must’ve moved my car five times that night. From the Pizza Hut I moved to the grocery store. Then in the wee hours I decided heck I’d just go on to a BLM campground marked on the ranger’s map. Since it was so late, I didn’t want my headlights to wake up other campers, so I just parked along the entrance dirt road. Again I worried about someone knocking on my window and telling me to move. It was about 2 a.m. and still I was wide awake, feeling ridiculous and frustrated.
Then I glanced up. Holy moly. The Milky Way was arching above my car, clear as a bell! Unlike my stint on the Green River, I had total cell signal and the ability to Google the camera settings I needed to capture its glory. I scrambled outside to set up my tripod and shot images for the next half hour, beaming.
Deciding sleep just wasn’t going to happen, I opted to move yet again. I knew I wanted to capture sunrise nearby at Mesa Arch, a famed location for photographers and gawkers alike. Wouldn’t it be great if I could find it in the dark and shoot the Milky Way there, too? Haha these are the thoughts at 3 a.m. of a delirious woman.
Fortune smiled on me and my GPS took me straight to the trailhead. With my camera backpack in tow and using my cell phone light, I made my way haltingly along the trail. I’d been relieved to discover I wasn’t the only photographer with the idea and there were a few veterans, both male and female, milling around the parking lot and trail. One who was leaving after shooting the Milky Way told me the exact spot I’d need to capture sunrise, so I set my tripod in that position, then returned to my car for the night’s first shuteye.
As dawn neared, the parking lot began to fill with a horde of eager photographers and I returned to claim my spot, unchallenged. It was worth every moment of the night’s restless uncertainty.
That success fueled me and I plotted my next destination. Ultimately I wanted to end up back at Moab for an upcoming weekend women’s event I’d been eying (and begging my way into), but first I’d make a circuit of the lower corners of Utah. I headed to Monument Valley, an iconic Indian-owned park in the southeastern corner of the state. Intending to car camp, I booked a $20 campsite inside the park (after also paying the park entry fee).
Out of curiosity, I wandered down to the actual site assigned to me and WOW! I was stunned to discover I’d scored a spot directly in front of the famed mittons! Scrambling, I pulled my tent gear out of the car and set up the ultimate photography base camp. Then I leisurely prepared dinner on the Jetboil stove I’d borrowed from Scott after the kayaking adventure. Gradually the campground filled with families and other photographers, but I had the best spot of them all. Capturing iconic images, merely leaning out of my tent flap, was a piece of cake!
The next morning it was tempting to stay another night and traverse the park’s many glories, but I really wanted to squeeze in Antelope Canyon and Zion National Park before doubling back to Moab in a couple of days. After showering using the campground facilities, back on the road I went.
Antelope Canyon is amazing!!
Now I had a system and it was working for me. My cozy backseat air mattress and sleeping bag stayed in place, with my camera gear in the front seat and my duffels for tent gear, clothes and food alongside my extra water in the hatchback. I kept a headlamp and handy dandy pee funnel/wet wipes within reach for early morning nature calls. Voila!
Zion National Park was a new challenge for me. I’d set my goals on conquering Angel’s Landing, an arduous trek up switchbacks and steep ascents to a spectacular (and once again iconic) view. Not confident I could do it with others, since I tend to be slowww and hold everyone back, I definitely wanted to try it while alone. I’d done my homework and knew most people complete the roundtrip hike within six hours (some far less, of course), so I planned eight. I’d be the first person in line for the park shuttle at the visitor center—and I was.
Again I camped on BLM land, simply pulling to the side of the road until morning. Yes as a woman traveling alone I stay watchful and was fully prepared to drive away if a problem surfaced. I don’t say that flippantly—I understand the risks. I take what precautions I can.
As morning arrived, I felt nervously excited. I knew I could do this… whatever “this” turned out to be. When the shuttle dropped me off at the trailhead with other hikers, I quickly fell into step and slowed to the back of the pack. Fortunately I met a woman who was somewhat overweight and struggling. Encouraging her took my mind from my own sluggish pace and we rested often. In time we were passed by those early hikers already returning downhill. Yep… I’m slow. Given time, I get where I wanna be!
Eventually I reached the portion of the trail where many people peel off and turn back. It’s necessary to grip chains up a harrowing cliffside path. Oddly enough this is my sweet spot! I love the thrill of heights and felt the adrenaline of nearing the top. When at last I was able to scoot to the edge of the outermost ledge for my ridiculous, dangerously risky selfie, I. was. beaming. I’d done it!! The roundtrip trek actually took me five hours: two up, an hour to picnic and leisurely take photos at the top and two hours back down.
From there I drove the long route back to Moab, fearing at one point that I’d run out of fuel. Fortunately, a gas station shimmered like a mirage just in time.
Jim convinced me that a shower and good sleep would be wise before joining the women’s weekend, so he booked me a hotel room in town. I’ve gotta admit that boy has great ideas! I loooove car camping, but holy cow that bubble bath and bed felt great!!
Soon I’ll tell you all about the remarkable women’s-retreat experience and remainder of the trip!
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Charlene Ross - Oh Cheryl,
How I’ve missed your beautiful writing. Looking so forward to following you on your PCT journey. Also, one of the doctors I work with it is doing it from the opposite way. Hopefully you’ll cross paths. Her name is Brittney Dawson and her blog is dvmexplorer.com. Check her out!
Cheryl Lewis - Thanks, sweet friend! I’ve missed writing. Sometimes we need a reset to reboot, y’know? It feels good to be back. I can’t wait to check out Brittney’s blog! What a crazy time. Please stay safe!