I remember loving a good road-trip for as long as I could possibly remember. It started off as tiny camping trips with my family when I was an even tinier tot- to driving to connecting states the moment that I got my license. I spent an accumulative number of hours trying to figure out where I got the travel bug, but in all honesty, I think it’s always been in my blood. I can, however, pinpoint the exact moment I realized I wouldn’t be able to live without it. I was driving from Wisconsin to California, with intentions to meet up with some very good friends. I wasn’t really taking my time, but I was going at a pace I felt comfortable with- where I would get to my destination on a reasonable date. The trip taking me only three solid days of driving to get to where I had pinpointed my end point on the map.
This specific instance was located about two-thirds of the way there, being on US Highway 191 right before Moab. I had found myself driving on a road with rush hour traffic, barely moving 2 miles per hour. I’m not really sure what possessed me, but I found myself turning right onto Potash Road. There wasn’t anything spectacular to see at first besides a slightly intimidating sign reading “Caution: Contamination Area” off to the left and the dusty red hues of the mineral deposits all around me. I pulled off to the side of the road and watched traffic slowly trickle its way into town.
After sitting for some time, pondering another route, I decided to continue down this randomly chosen road. Within a minute, the view of the highway disappeared leaving a grand sight of the Colorado river to my left and a glimpse of people traversing the colorful, mountainous bluffs to my right. I was in awe; I didn’t want to leave, I almost couldn’t. Instead, I got out of my car and listened to the flow of water. Before I knew it, an hour had disappeared… and then two.
Unfortunately, I didn’t camp in this location, as I had purchased a hotel earlier in the day and I had not yet outfitted my vehicle to be a sleeper. I did however see several other nomads sporadically dotted about who were posted up for the evening. At the time, I was traveling in a 2015 Ford Fiesta. It later died on the trip from transmission issues, though that’s an exciting story for another day.
Too soon, I needed to continue on my journey. I did not feel sad I had to leave, or frustrated with traffic, instead I left feeling free and serene. It was a feeling I didn’t chase, but rather found.
It made me wonder what else I could find.
