the happiest camper ⛰️🐴 🚗💨

week 2: 6/9 - 6/15

Jun 19, 2024

the happiest camper is a weekly update for the month of June, chronicling my adventures as I camp my way from Texas, through Colorado, up the east coast, and into Nova Scotia. After this month-long trip, I’ll return to regularly scheduled programming of ‘the monthly recap’ updates. Thanks for reading!

Day 7

All while staying in Paonia, CO, this beautiful mountain has been looking down over me. Enchanting me, watching me, taunting me. So I decided to try to get to the top! The peak of Mount Lamborn sits just below 12,000’, so I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it to the summit or not. The round trip hike is about 8 miles with 4,000’ of elevation gain.

Sunday morning I woke up, downloaded the map from AllTrails and set off for the trailhead. One of the perks, or so I thought, was that the trailhead was super close. A mere 15 drive from my hipcamp and I’d be there! The comments on AllTrails talked about needing a 4x4 vehicle to reach the trailhead, but I figured my Forester would be plenty. It was about 3 miles from the trailhead that the road turns to dust, and then to river rock, and then eventually to creek. I love driving and navigating terrain, but DAMN, my comfort level has never been so challenged. The three miles to the trailhead ended up taking over 45 minutes, thats how gnarly the ‘road’ was. I will say, it was deeply satisfying to finally get some use out of the X-mode offroad setting in my car, but once I arrived I needed a break just from driving.

I parked, climbed outside to stretch my legs and gear up, and it set in just how isolated the area is. Sitting by the pond at my hipcamp, gazing up at the silhouette of Mount Lamborn, the peak seems so close - like if you close one eye and squint, you could reach out and touch it. It was hard for me to grasp that the vast rolling backcountry surrounding me was actually just a tiny patch from the view at camp. There were cattle grazing around the trailhead, which made everything feel a little more wild. Most hikes have a parking lot and maybe a ranger station, but it was just me up there.

I doused myself in deet and sunscreen, and I was off! Right away, the trail was tight and the climb began. The trail climbed through a gully and crossed a small creek a few times. On the widest water crossing, I realized that my trail running shoes and shorts might not be up to snuff for this caliber of wilderness. I’m so comfortable out in the foothills of Auburn, but this was intense, and I was alone. Every few minutes, I’d start loudly announcing myself to the forest, especially because the sound of the creek masked all the noise from my footsteps and trekking poles. I carry bear spray, but I’d like to avoid surprising a bear while I’m flying solo. So yes, I was out in the woods and intermittently yelling nonsense.

Unfortunately, the trail was super overgrown. I pushed through a couple of patches that made me uncomfortable, but eventually it was just too much. I’m terrified of ticks, and I felt all too vulnerable in my shorts and shortsleeved shirt. If I had the choice be in the woods with a bear or a bunch of ticks, I’d pick the bear NO HESITATION. Black bears only though.

I decided to turn around.

The overgrown trail and (probably) so many ticks just waiting for a sweet treat like me.

I completed one mile of the 4 mile trek to the summit and gained 900’ in elevation. It was especially frustrating to turn around because my body was doing terrific. I was keeping my breath really well and my muscles had so much life left in them, but my gut said ‘hell nah’ as the brush got thicker and thicker. I never regret listening to my body, but man I would have really loved to make it to the summit. Mother Nature wins, but I was grateful she kept me safe out there. Making it home in one piece and tick free is always the goal anyway.

I spent an hour recharging at Paonia Bread Works, and then decided to try to find some river fishing spots. I pulled out google maps and looked for locations where the road paralleled or intersected with the North Fork Gunnison or any feeder creeks. I found a spot right outside of town where there was a small pull off that opened up to the riverbank, but unfortunately there was a dude in his car just sitting there. It weirded me out so after a couple casts I decided to find another spot. I ended up spending three hours driving around cross checking google maps with my Colorado Fishing Regulations booklet to find a good spot but none were found. Almost all the places I stopped the river was hemmed in by private property, which was a huge bummer. In the few places it wasn’t, the water was moving too quickly to make it a good spot for fish.

When I got back to camp in the evening, it occurred to me that most people would hate my day. I spent probably 4 hours in the car between going to the trailhead and hunting fishing spots. It doesn’t matter that most people would hate being stuck in the car all that time, because I don’t hate being stuck in the car all that time. I love driving and finding hidden creeks and random campsites and getting lost in the mountains and singing obscenely loudly while I coast down the steep grades of the alpine passes. I fucking love it.

I made pork chops for dinner and called it a day.

Day 8

This was hands down my laziest day of the trip. After spending 4 days in Paonia and surrounding areas, I really felt like I had thoroughly explored. I’d been to all the neighboring towns and reservoirs (probably twice) and I’d checked out all the local spots. It was cloudy when I woke up, which meant I wasn’t driven out of my tent by the heat. I was able to lounge on my cot and read All the Pretty Horses for a couple hours. When the day finally warmed up, I put down the book long enough to drive back to Paonia Bread Works where I kept reading and sipped on a breve latte.

I spent the afternoon stretched out on a blanket in the shade near my tent. Monday marked one week on the road and I could feel my body and mind finally slowing down. I was a knot that was slowly loosening and the tension relaxed all at once. I was feeling grateful and emotional over everything and nothing in particular.

Travel, when done right, pulls you off your timeline and allows you to see yourself against a new backdrop. I have this terrible habit of looking at the different things and people in my life and getting them confused with myself. I look at my amazing partner, my upcoming job, my home, my degree, my outfit of the day, and I proudly exclaim, “This is what makes me me.” And its so misguided. Things change, as they always do, and my balance is upended as I grapple with how the change impacts my sense of self. This trip is putting me against so many new backdrops, and thankfully it’s pulling me out of this pattern of thought. I’m reminded that I exist without all the things that usually comfort me, entertain me, preoccupy me, and that this existence is delightful all on its own.

Day 9

Paonia → Elizabeth, Colorado

I packed up and headed out of Paonia, back through Glenwood Springs, en route to Elizabeth, CO. I stopped in Golden on the way and stretched my legs. For years while I was in school it was my plan to move to Golden after graduation, its such a lovely little town so close to Denver and right at the entrance to the Rocky mountains.

It was nice to stop in and walk around and do a little shopping on some bargain racks. I picked up a rad new vest, grabbed some dinner, and headed out to Falkor Ranch for the evening.

Day 10

Spending ~30 hours in the car so far has wreaked havoc on my body, so I treated myself to a massage! I drove into town, grabbed breakfast and a car wash, and then spent 90 minutes alternating between euphoria and intense pain as my massage therapist squeezed me out like a tube of toothpaste left in the road.

I headed back to the ranch and spent the rest of the day in the hammock.

Day 11

Elizabeth, Colorado → Hays, Kansas

Morning with Gandalf the goat at Falkor.

Time to head east!

I had an easy 4.5 hour day on the road to Hays, Kansas. I arrived in the afternoon and man, this town was sad. There’s a university there, so maybe it’s just depressing after everyone heads home for the summer, but this was the flattest, most quiet sad town. It’s tornado season and I didn’t want to stay in Kansas at all, but after my ten hour drive at the start of the trip, I didn’t want to repeat that. So much to my dismay, as I was eating some horrendous nachos at a quaint little bistro in Hays, I checked the weather once again and lo and behold there is a SEVERE thunderstorm warning. Out of nowhere! I had been checking the weather religiously, including earlier that day and it was nothing but blue skies and sweltering heat in the forecast.

I rushed to my hipcamp so I could pitch my tent before the rain set in. As I tried to stay calm and hammer the stakes into the ground, flood warnings started popping up on my phone. The wind was already tossing about my tent like crazy. I decided to reach out to the owners of the property to get a second opinion on the weather. Thankfully, they were already watching the radar and concluded that the storm cell would pass south of us. I was still wary due to the strong winds that were already sweeping across the rolling hills, but slowly the gusts died down and the sky started to clear.

Wedged myself between the hay bales and my car for wind protection.

The owners arrived back at the hipcamp in the early evening and gave me a full tour of their stables! Many of the horses were theirs, some were boarded, and they even had one donkey in the mix. I fell in LOVE with a mare named Bella, even though the dainty name was certainly a disservice to her. She was tall, regal, and incredibly powerful. I was instantly smitten and gave her all my apples.

Me and Tanner (short for Tannerite) who is a baby 10 month old wild mustang that was recently adopted. He’s a little firecracker, hence the name.

Day 12

Hays, Kansas → St. Clair, Missouri

Another 8 hour day in the car!

This one was rough, not gonna lie. I stopped at a very highly rated breakfast spot somewhere in Kansas, and it was…like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was a cafe and also an antique/resale store? The ratings led me to believe that I was about to be treated to a positive experience, and I was misled. I ordered a breakfast egg wrap that was reminiscent of something you’d get at an airport, only worse. I hightailed it out of there and only made one more delightful stop along the way.

THIS IS NOT A SEPIA FILTER. Everything at this cafe/antique shop just happens to be this color, I swear. It really looked like this.

I got off I-70 in Warrenton, Missouri for a quick grocery stop and instantly regretted it. I’ve done a lot of traveling and living overseas and in big American cities, so I’m pretty confident in my street smarts, and my alarm bells were going off in this town. It’s hard to put a finger on all the subtle things that made me uncomfortable, but I stuck out like a sore thumb. I got my groceries and got the fuck out of there.

My stay in Missouri was outside the adorable town (finally) of St. Clair, at an ‘animal sanctuary’ where they hosted horses, donkeys, goats, and lots of little pigs. I was super excited to spend time with the animals, but the place was not what I was expecting. I hope the animals were happy, because the place was just kind of gross and poorly kept. After staying at the working stables in Hays that were carefully tended to and maintained, this place was a dumpster fire, complete with flies and animal poop everywhere. AGAIN, the reviews were excellent, so I was a bit caught off guard.

C'est la vie. I set up camp in a quiet corner of the pasture and rested.

Day 13

I awoke to the sun roasting me out of the tent like a hot potato. I decided to head into town for a bit, since there was nothing to do at the hipcamp except for shoo flies away. I pulled the bike off the car rack, geared up, and set off on the 5 mile ride to Riverbend Coffee.

I sat down on the end of a long table and pulled out my laptop for a bit. There were a few gentlemen at the other end of the table, laughing and shooting the shit. After a few minutes they struck up some conversation with me, which I was very happy about! The group at the end of the table consisted of Felix (67), and a dad (45) with his son (22). I shared about my trip and we talked about work and covid and hipcamp. When it was time for the group to head their separate ways they asked Felix about his plans for the day, to which he replied, “I’m gonna go shoot some guns!” Then he looked at me with a cocked eyebrow and a grin, “Wanna come?”

SO, thats how I ended up at The Gun Shack indoor shooting range with a sixty seven year old man in St. Clair, Missouri. It was AWESOME, and I am so thankful to Felix for inviting me along on this adventure. I haven’t been to a gun range since last October, and goddamn it never ceases to shock me how fucking powerful guns are. Even just the SOUND. Netflix convinces us that guns are these little pow-pow pea shooters, but firing a handgun is literally insane. I can’t wrap my head around feeling comfortable around guns, and I admire people that are. We shot his 10mm and his 45, and your girl’s got some aim!

After the range, I biked back to camp and promptly fell asleep in my hammock in the shade. I don’t remember how I spent the rest of the evening, but I know it was nowhere near as cool as shootin’ guns with Felix.

Books

I finished reading All the Pretty Horses this week and couldn’t recommend it enough. It’s not a bloodbath like Blood Meridian, it’s eloquent and romantic and masculine and poetic. I was hooked after the first few pages.

They sat for a long time. Finally he pitched the stub of the cigarette into the fire. I'm goin to bed, he said.
Yeah, said John Grady. I guess that's a good idea.
They spread their soogans and he pulled off his boots and stood them beside him and stretched out in his blankets. The fire had burned to coals and he lay looking up at the stars in their places and the hot belt of matter that ran the chord of the dark vault overhead and he put his hands on the ground at either side of him and pressed them against the earth and in that coldly burning canopy of black he slowly turned dead center to the world, all of it taut and trembling and moving enormous and alive under his hands.
What's her name? said Rawlins in the darkness.
Alejandra. Her name is Alejandra.
- Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses