Another summer, another adventure. This time, I’ve got a car that can mostly keep up with traffic, even pass the lorries. It’s grand.
Because I’ve seen much of the Northern States, I think it a brilliant idea to travel over 1,200 km a day for two days, to get to Estes Park and Rocky Mountain National Park. It’s a long drive that makes my body ache more than I imagined a long drive could, and I do spend much of my first afternoon in Colorado sleeping in a grassy pasture, allowing my lungs to acclimatize to the altitude, and my bones to rest. Exploring the park, both on foot and along the roads, is marvellous. The air is fresh, and early in the mornings, before other hikers amass at all the park’s most beautiful sites, the park is delightful. In particular, I relish waking up to the sound of elk walking across the campground.
I spend a Saturday in a busy part of Colorado, much of it looking for a campground, then make my way to the stunning Black Canyon of the Gunninson National Park where I find shade and a spot of blissful solitude.
The happy driver in me gets to play when I arrive at Ouray, and further explore Silverton, Durango and the drive the Million Dollar Highway. I take my civic down some 4-wheel drive roads, but never far enough to really explore the region. I promise myself that next time I will have a 4-wheel drive, or at least budget enough cash to be able to rent one for a few days of fun.
At Mesa Verde National Park I get to learn about the Ancestral Puebloans, and have a pint at a local bar, a hole in the wall, really.
Because I’m so close to the boarder, I dip down into to visit Monument Valley in Utah and Arizona, taking in all of the iconic scenery that I’ve seen hundreds of time in National Geographic, in films and other people’s photos. It’s far better to be there, feeling small amongst the big rocks and flat spaces.
In Utah, it is, pretty much, love at first sight as I’ve never experienced it before. I spend days driving between the different parts of Canyonlands National Park, including the Needles District, camping at Hamburger Rock, and gazing out over the Needles Outlook.
One of the most exciting parts of the trip turns out to be a chance meeting of two friends travelling in a little red cabriolet in Arches National Park that sparks a spontaneous friendship, a night of beer and laughter, followed by a sunset at Dead Horse State Park and an all American dinner at an all America diner, banana split and all. When we depart, I find new friends, made of stone, at the Valley of Goblins State Park.
I take my time driving through the ever-changing landscape, through small towns, between ridges, along seemingly-abandoned roads to Capitol Reef National Park, then the magical Hwy 12 to Kodachrome State Park where I do become bolder and drive my Civic down some 4-wheel drive roads – once there’s just too much sand and the car slides down, and I am forced to turn back around. It’s in this part of Utah that I get to do some slot canyon walks – not as impressive, perhaps, as the ones south of here, but amazing enough for a beginner like me.
And because it’s only a few centimetres away on the map, I detour to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, another brilliant idea because I have to wait to see if anyone has cancelled a site, and while waiting, I meet some delightful gentlemen who are riding their Harley’s across the States. They invite me over to their campsite for “beer and good conversation” and they deliver on both.
I do eventually end up in Zion National Park, the state’s gem, though to enjoy it one has to rise very early to find a spot in the car park and get on a shuttle bus before the line gets too long. It’s nice enough, though the crowds and stress of driving in traffic and slowing down during a hike because of all the other hikers isn’t alluring.
Again, because I’m so close, I drive one of the best stretches of interstate highway I’ve ever been on in the States, down to Valley of Fire State Park in Nevada, before I indulge in the party and organized chaos that is Las Vegas – this is the only time during my trip that I am in a proper bed, other than when I visit my friends in Minneapolis, where I also get a bed to sleep in. I can’t resist jumping on it a little, just because I can.
In Bryce Canyon National Park I’m transported once again to another land, a fairytale of rising red, orange and amber rock formations I’ve not encountered before.
My drive back home is long. First I make my way north to the Bonneville Salt Flats where my swollen, tired feet get a tingling massage. I stop by a lake in Nebraska where I meet an enthusiastic talker, and slowly weave my way back home.
It took 10 weeks and thousands of kilometres of travel to change me, yet again. Each time I grow a little bit bolder. A little less scared. A little more likely to turn a stranger into a friend, if only for a little while.