Reflections from a month on the road.

First Leg Trip Report: Oregon to Colorado

The biggest accomplishment of this trip so far has just been getting out the door. Hitting the road, being able to physically put it all behind me and leave.

I could have spent several more weeks building out the back of the truck, getting it just right. Put more effort into the house. Spent much more time researching where to camp, what to do, and how to get from point A to point B on the map. Figured out what, exactly, I'm doing with all of these wedding and travel plans that conflict with my own personal journey. Figured out what, exactly, I'm doing with my life. All of the what ifs and shoulds and regret and need to get this done had been piling up for a long time. Portland had become a very dark place and I felt trapped in a kind of decision paralysis about what I should do with my life versus a nagging dream of travel.

I kept what plans I had for the journey secret. Much like the images I drew in my childhood sketchbooks, I kept my dreams and plans for this trip to myself. Mostly because I was afraid someone would try and talk me out of it. I didn't do this intentionally to hurt the people close to me, but because striking out on my own has been such a precious, tiny hope in my mind for so long and I am not particularly bold- too much discussion of the trip would cause me to doubt myself further and potentially cancel the whole endeavor.

I built out the back of the truck, made sure the house wouldn't fall down, set a date on the calendar, and left. The actual leaving ended up being delayed for two days because a perfect weather window opened up for Mt Hood and Liz and I had to climb it-- more about that in a separate post.

I am extremely thankful and grateful for the friends I have in Portland, I think we need to start being social more often and not just for goodbyes.

Mt Hood was a good trial run for the truck, it handles noticeably different with the roof box on, and I was extremely happy to have a soft bed to sleep on in the parking lot after descending. After a glorious nap, I drove back to Ben's place in Hood River and we had dinner together. Even though I'm comfortable as can be in the back of the truck right now, reflecting on time in Hood River sure makes me miss Ben.

The following morning, a little later than expected, Ollie and I hit the road. We had no plans for where we would spend the night, only that we were going to drive south until it was late. Driving through Portland and going down I5 is faster, but I didn't have the heart to drive through that city. Who knows, I might have had to check on the house and get stuck working on something.

So we took the scenic way south on hwy 97. Mt Hood smiled down on us, the mountain had been looking very ominous for the past month and four failed attempts, but on this day it seemed to be at peace, the summit occasionally peaking out from a blanket of clouds.

On the drive south, we had great views of Mt Jefferson, Smith Rock, the Sisters, and endless Oregon forest. It was really lovely. Sometime after crossing the California border, we drove by a herd of elk. Mt Shasta came into view, and at a scenic viewpoint I researched campsites in the area and found where we would spend the night.

Our campsite was on the flanks of Mt Shasta. I was happy to find that all of my tubs fit into a California-mandated bear box and that I was still awake enough to figure out how to lock said bear box. Ollie was hesitant to sleep in the truck that first night, I think she remembered being kept in there while I was working on Grimm, but after some coaxing, she hopped right in and slept at my feet. The next morning we drove up to Bunny Flat and played a game of high-altitude fetch. Ollie loved the snow. Shasta appeared in prime condition, with snow all the way to the parking lot. Too soon though, it was time to hit the road, as we had many miles to drive to Bakersfield.

I wish I could say the I5 drive was exciting, but anyone who has driven that section of highway knows otherwise.

I got into Bakersfield that evening, and saw my parents

Ben arrived Friday afternoon. We picked him up at LAX and drove back to Bakersfield, Ollie was very happy to see Ben at the airport. We tried to convince Ollie that the swimming pool was fun, but she wasn't convinced... turns out that picking her up and throwing her into the pool didn't help with that. Lesson learned. I think we had alaskan salmon for dinner and an awesome avocado and tomato salad. Saturday we went on a classic tour of Bakersfield- tacos for breakfast, a walk along the scenic Oildale overlook, and then a drive up into the Kern River Canyon. While Bakersfield is a flat city, the Kern River Canyon is spectacular. We saw climbers topping out on the sides of the road. I briefly wished I had learned to climb sooner so I would have had something fun to do the summer I lived in Bakersfield. After our drive, my father cooked his famous prime rib over the grill. I don't think I've eaten that well in a long time. After dinner we had some wine, shared photos in the living room, and enjoyed a brief bit of family time.

Sunday morning, Ben, my mom, and I drove to LA. We stopped in at the Getty Museum and showed Ben around. The Getty is such a fun museum to walk through, with the monorail approach, it feels like you're traveling the the fortress of some James Bond villain. That day, the LA sky was surprisingly clear- we could see the city out to the ocean. I think LA would be a very beautiful place to live if you could eliminate half the people. Southern California is a really beautiful place- one I am happy to visit on occasion. We saw a traveling exhibit that was a scale replica of Chinese burial caves. The caves were small rooms lined with painted Buddhist iconography. I thought the exhibit was completely underwhelming. After working in the film industry for half a decade, I know I've personally painted better looking images and the sets we've built are much more interesting. To make the experience worse, we had to wait in the hot sun before entering the caves and were only given two minutes per room. It seemed over-hyped. Thankfully the Getty is free, because the James Maplethrope photo exhibit was even worse. It seemed self-obsessed, very privileged, and his work did not exhibit noteworthy technical advances to make up for the creative and blunt subject matter. We enjoyed walking through the collection of European art from 1500-1900, the collection is manageable and interesting, with notable works straight out of your art history textbook.

Sadly, it was time for Ben to catch his flight, after a quick and delicious dinner, we dropped him off at LAX and drove back to Bakersfield. Monday morning, it was my turn to leave. I packed up the truck and headed in the direction of Joshua Tree, reflecting that this may be the last time I pass through Bakersfield for a very long time.

Leaving Bakersfield was exhilarating, I was finally beginning to explore new territory. As I drove through prairie that gave way to rolling foothills and larger mountains, I finally felt like I was driving off the edge of the map and into the unknown- that the journey was finally beginning! We drove past the San Gorgonio Mountains, the rim of Death Valley, into the Mojave Desert, and found a great, expansive dry lake bed to camp on.

The morning sunrise from the bed of the truck was large and expansive. Five AM was warm but pleasant. That morning and horizon felt endless, until the sun got a bit higher in the sky and became blazing.

We had miles to go before Tuscon that night. Slow morning coffee in the back of the truck is a luxurious treat, but by 8 AM we were packed and ready to go.

The drive through Joshua Tree was lovely. Before the sun was too high in the sky, I would occasionally leave Ollie in the truck and boulder up the start of a route or two. The climbing seemed fun, and my general opinion is that Ben and I need to return. We hiked a bit on the marginal trails that dogs are allowed on. I reflected on how destructive humans can be at national parks and how limiting the dog-ban is. But, since the rules were not mine to make, Ollie stayed on her 6' leash and we stayed on the mediocre trails we were allowed on. A detour down a dirt road introduced us to a herd of bighorn sheep. There were a couple young sheep in the mix.

The rest of the drive from Joshua Tree to Tuscon was mostly flat, punctuated with gem shops and giant dinosaur sculptures. I drove east on hwy 66 and then through the Sonoran Desert National Monument. A brief stop to walk through the saguraos was peaceful and a sunset view of Picacho Peak was appreciated.

In Tuscon, there was warmth and happiness. Ben's family is absolutely great. Though there were mild dog shenanigans, all was well. Dinner and conversation were great. The next morning, which came a little too soon, had a great breakfast and then several hours on the road north. 

Fields of saguraos gave way to a high plateau and an eventual view of Humphreys Peak, towering over Flagstaff, AZ. I found my campsite late at night, in the dark off of a forest road. It was the first night I was really scared. The darkness had many secrets and I just didn't feel right. An early morning wake up illuminated a nice campsite, but the weather forecast was completely mediocre. It was too easy to say no to hiking Humphreys Peak. If I just blamed the weather and conditions, no one would blame me for not hiking... but lowering my standards was not what I went on this trip to do.

Slowly, one foot in front of the other, with many breaks to reflect, I trudged up the mountain. It was not a glamours hike. It was a pathetic, mediocre, crappy hike. Many people told us to turn around because conditions at the peak had deteriorated, but they were wearing jean shorts and flip flops. We just put on more jackets and trudged on. The summit was anticlimactic. I did not feel like I had accomplished anything, other than trudging, there was no great enlightenment.

The hike down was memorable though, we encountered Justin, a climber from Phoenix, and his dog, a very well-mannered St Bernard who carried a backpack bigger than mine. Justin and I met a pair of lost hikers. After promptly getting off-route ourselves, we navigated back to the trail through an approaching whiteout and as soon as we were back on trail, the clouds cleared up and visibility returned. I remember the hikers asking us if we'd ever gotten lost before. I thought to myself how often I get lost, and how getting un-lost is the real trick. Maybe I'll get un-lost on this trip.

We shared dinner at Chick-fil-a and I returned to my roadside campsite. It didn't feel so creepy the second night, and I was tired enough not to care. The next morning, we slept in, made macaroni and cheese for breakfast, and decided to find showers. Ended up bouldering for the afternoon in Flagstaff- probably the stiffest climbing I've encountered. I struggled on V1s and 2s. I could blame the altitude, or maybe the gym was sandbagged, but I'm weak enough that I'll just blame myself for being weak and work on getting stronger.

A third night sleeping on the forest road was cozy, though the loneliness returned. The following morning, I met Kevin Brown for breakfast and a walk through Flagstaff. It has been fifteen years or so since I escaped Midland. We had a good chat, and he told me about all the places in Arizona and New Mexico I'll have to return to.

Driving from Flagstaff to Albequerque was enjoyable. While it was too hot to do much, we stopped at a few tourist traps to look at the giant dinosaur sculptures- they really are all over the southwest. The views were epic- great looking rock, wonderful horizons, good scenery. Will have to come back for an Arizona climbing trip some spring.

Albuquerque was the first place I started to feel truly happy. I've been carrying so much emotional baggage for the past few years. To show up at Maggie's place and not have to carry that load any more was fantastic. It's such a release to relax the defenses you've held around yourself for years. To be around a person who's friendship is not conditional is magical. To be around people who do not have an agenda is liberating. We only talked about Willamette one night, and that was a dark wine-soaked evening. Otherwise, the time was lovely.

New Mexico really is a land of enchantment. I need to return. There are slot canyons, badlands, alpine meadows, sacred peaks, cruiser trad climbing, ice climbing prospects, art installations, delicious food, good people-- EVERYTHING. I think if I could take New Mexico, and flank it with the North Cascades, Rocky Mountain National Park, the Pacific coast, and Baja California, I would never leave. It's a good thing the North Cascades are in the upper northwest so my return is guaranteed. (for now)

Sadly, I had to leave the comfortable land of Albuquerque and head north. I rented snowshoes to hike up Wheeler Peak. 2000' of elevation gain in snowshoes is a little bit of an undertaking. The swimming though soft snow on the descent was a shit show. Hilarious. I am glad to be a strong mountaineer and able to deal with the crap conditions with grace. Digging myself out of waist-deep postholes with my ice axe several times was memorable.

Camping in northern New Mexico was the real gem. Along the access road to Taos Ski Valley are several amazing pullout sites. I put up my hammock and spent a day reading the glorious Clan of the Cave Bear novel by stream before packing up and heading to the Wild Rivers Recreation area.

Taos is a tourist trap, but a beautiful one. In all my scouting, I could not find a quality local dive bar for good conversation and cheap drinks, but the art galleries showed better work than you'll see in Portland, so that was nice.

The BLM campsites on the Norther Rio Grand are FANTASTIC. Seriously. They are cheap and mostly empty. My spot looked into the canyon and also the plateau. On one side I saw sunsets over the river while on the other side I could sit back and watch thunderstorms charge across the horizon. If I could do it again, I'd spend a month in New Mexico in early spring and make a long camp there. I would paint every day and watch the sky every night.

I began my first real painting of the trip, a painting of Mt Hood, a reflection on darkness. To be alone in the desert making a painting about the darkest moments of your recent memory is a harrowing experience. I cannot say I recommend it, but the meditation on darkness can be very helpful.

Soon enough though, it was time to move on. Into Colorado, the colorful state. A drive through a vast, open abyss with giant sky was riveting. Shortly after seeing a sign that declared OPEN RANGE, I had to stop for a herd of grazing horses. Driving past 14ers was magical. Really began to understand what “Big Sky Country” means. An evening bouldering with Amanda and fun chats was nice and grounding. There's a tiny part of me that wishes I could have lived my entire life in the Bay Area. I think San Ramon was my favorite place to be out of all the towns we lived in. It was good to be reminded of a positive time in my life.

The next day it was onto Boulder. Eryn, now Joy, welcomed me with open arms. We hiked through the fields that surround the Flatirons, surrounded by yellow and purple flowers. I told her of the misery and sorrow that occurred in the past year. I didn't intend to tell her about all the melancholy, but it came out. We discussed other names for me besides Sarah. Options include: Ocean, Kali, Sol... nothing really stuck. It was a good, beautiful hike complete with warm afternoon rain.

That evening, we went to an event called Circling. I will be the first to admit I'm not in touch with my inner self. This event was basically a group therapy/CBT/let-it-go session. I volunteered to be circled. I talked and talked. I used words to describe feelings I usually ignore. I think I came away with more understanding of myself. I think. It's tricky when we live so much in our heads and rarely get to see the Outside. It was uncomfortable, but the good kind of uncomfortable. I'm not usually “enlightened” so much of the vocabulary was outside of my understanding. I feel as if I missed a large learning curve and just ran for it.

Ben showed up that weekend. We climbed the first flatiron and drove through Rocky Mountain National park. There are not words to describe how happy I was to see him. Our climbing was fantastic, save for some aggressive thunderstorms. Climbing together, cooking together, being together- it all felt so right. And of course Ollie was overjoyed to see Ben at the airport. Our little family is the best.

Since Ben's visit, I spent a week climbing- some sport in Cleer Creek Canyon and Poudre Canyon, some multipitch trad at Lumpy Ridge. I prefer the trad so far. Sport routes are too crimpy/slabby/meh. Give me the strange features, fistjams, veggebelays, runouts, etc. Ben said I'm officially a trad climber now. Based on the sport climbing in CO so far, I'm inclined to agree. I feel better when half my body is lodged in a crack than when it's hanging on tiny crimps.

AND THE CLIMBING HERE IS GOOD! It's amazing! I have never felt so great and confident on the rock before. Sure, I've been runout above my last piece of pro, but the rock is solid. It does not explode when you put a cam in it. It builds confidence instead of destroying it.

I am happy here. I get to physically exert myself and have a wonderful time doing it.