The Road Home
- slyeabby
- Mar 10
- 8 min read
On October 26, we deep cleaned the coffee shop and shut down Hatch for the season. That night, everyone from the bar, the cafe and the hotel closed out the Outlaw Saloon at our end-of-season party. Naturally, my coworkers and I took turns riding the bar bear.
Horseshoe Bend
A couple days later, the coffee shop crew packed Trace's tiny Subaru full of camping and paddling gear and headed south to Horseshoe Bend. At some point in the summer, we had decided that we would close out the season with a trip there. We crashed at a hotel near Lee's Ferry and the next day... we started kayaking the Colorado River.
The part of the Colorado River that you can access for a short trip starts at the Glen Canyon Dam and ends at Lee's Ferry, the official beginning of the Grand Canyon. It's 14 miles of the most beautiful, clear, deep water at the base of towering canyon walls.
We spent two days along the river. It was truly magical. The sky was a brilliant blue. The canyon walls a blazing burnt orange in the sun. And the water was like glass. It reflected each color tenfold and mixed the hues with a bright mossy green from deep below.
There were four of us-- Hannah, Trace, Athina & I. And Osito (Hannah's dog, the cutest "little bear"). Some of our time on the river was spent in awestruck quiet. Most of it was spent laughing. How cool is that? To come together with a group of strangers for a season and get to experience some of the most beautiful places in the country together, and then get to watch them continue to explore the world after you part ways?
Goodbye Hatch
After getting off of the river, driving to the lookout to see our previous campsite from above, and scarfing down the best Subway footlongs we've ever had as the sun set, we drove back to Hatch.
I started packing Monster back up for the road home. As I packed and cleaned, I relished every moment I could outside, soaking in every last moment I had with my mountains for the season. As I'm writing this, over four months later, I can still close my eyes and feel like I'm there, on the side of Highway 89, dust under my feet, staring out towards Proctor Canyon.
The goodbye was tearful. Hatch brought me so much, and though I'd practiced saying goodbye to places I wasn't sure I'd return to anytime soon on the road there, it was the hardest one to see in my rearview mirror.
I had finally learned how wild it was, to let it be. A now familiar mantra, I repeated it to myself as I crossed the 20 and headed North.
Boise, Idaho
On the road ahead was family and familiarity, a few more national parks, and soon, a hug from my grandparents.
Further up and further in.
With a pit stop at Antelope Island State Park on the Great Salt Lake where I spent the night with bison roaming just outside of my car (very cool but also deeply unnerving), I made it to Boise, and got to meet my newest second cousin.
I'd visited Hailey and Kyle once before in Idaho for my 21st birthday. Now, they had a baby and not only did I get a big Slye hug from Hailey, I also got to give my own Slye hug to Benjamin.
I got there on Halloween, so we spent the night passing out candy to kids in their neighborhood. I spent a week with the Gantz family. The whole time, I felt the comfort of being somewhere that felt a lot like home and my excitement grew for the day I'd drive across the Wisconsin border again.
We watched the Packers, went to a Boise State basketball game, had some movie nights and played Wingspan. I went for walks around town and on the mountain trails nearby, did some cooking, and got to help Ben make his first crafts.
When I once again hit the road, my heart was full. I felt recharged and excited to cross the last two Utah parks off of my list.
Arches & Canyonlands (Moab, Utah)
I wish I could accurately describe the swirl of emotions I felt as I again pulled off of the interstate and began to see the orange rock formations and mountains that decorate so much of Utah. I was elated, excited, comforted and again terrified of saying goodbye to such a beautiful place.
More than anything, I felt so much gratitude. For the beautiful Earth. For the chance to see it, to be present in it. So grateful to simply live, here, now-- that it made my bones ache.
As I drove into town I saw a sign. "Skydive Moab," it said. I booked my jump that night.
Before skydiving though, I spent a night camping in Arches National Park and another in Canyonlands.
In Arches, I embarked on my longest solo hike of the year: Devil's Garden Trail. Adding in the walk from my campsite to/from the trailhead, I hiked 9.3 long, hard miles that day. It was incredible.
There were so many moments where I was out in a park and found myself falling deeper in love with hiking alone. This was one of them. Each section of the trail presented a new puzzle to solve. How do I get from here to there without ending up with a broken bone? But throughout it all, there was no rush. Just a deep breath, a moment of internal peace, and one foot in front of the other. I hiked on completely exposed rock faces and fins, through jungles of spires and arches and through sandy grasses.
My last night of camping in Monster for the year was in the Needles District of Canyonlands. I climbed up a rock face near camp to watch the sunset that night. Sat there with my journal. Breathed in deep. When I started to shiver from the cold I went back to my site and started on a fire.
My fire didn't last long, which was frustrating. But I'd bought a bunch of handwarmers that day and was bundled up plenty, so I wasn't too worried. And then I noticed that the sky seemed to be glowing in the distance. I pulled my blanket and camp chair to the road and stared.
That night I saw the northern lights. A long-time dream of mine come true. The once pitch black sky glowed red and then green and faint streaks of light danced among the stars. I had been far out of service range all day, so I didn't know to watch out for the Aurora. Still, I found them. I must have sat out there looking at the slightly tinted dark sky for an hour.
That was the best night of sleep I ever had in Monster.
The next day I drove back to Skydive Moab, hopped into a harness, and dove through the sky. I'm grinning from ear to ear just thinking about it. I was the only jumping in the afternoon so just my tandem jumper, videographer, the pilot and I piled into the smallest airplane I've ever seen. My heart was racing as we climbed to 13,000 feet but I never felt scared. I was mostly awestruck and wildly excited.
We jumped out. The freefall was a rush. Then we sent up the parachute and began to glide our way down. I looked out at the beautiful canyons of the beautiful state I'd spent so much time and learned so much about myself in, seeing them in a whole new way, as my tandem jumper said "welcome to my office".
How wild it was.
The next day, my last full day in Moab and in Utah, I drove through the Island in the Sky District of Canyonlands. I did a few short hikes but mostly just enjoyed the drive and appreciated the lookouts. I climbed to the raised point of upheaval dome and sat there with my PB&J and journal and embraced all of my love and big feelings for Utah and my time out West.
... To let it be.
Boulder & Breckenridge, Colorado
The next day I drove through the Rocky Mountains. At that point, I had five more nights before I would be home in Wauwatosa. It was a surreal feeling.
In Boulder, after a beautiful and very challenging drive, I reconnected with Emma, a dear friend from college. The next day we drove back into the mountains with her friend Ginger to Breckenridge for a girls night.
There wasn't much snow on the mountain, but we weren't there to ski. Instead, we rode the Gondola, breathed in the fresh mountain air, had a glass of wine and walked through town-- shopping, sharing stories and laughing together.
I'll be back to the Rockies.
The Midwest
Driving away from Denver was when the road really started to look like home. I never knew I could feel so much excitement seeing the plains. The world became flat again and was slowly enveloped into shades of a wintry gray. But my fondness of home, which I'd been away from for nine months, outweighed the sadness at watching the land shift.
I spent a night in Nebraska, then drove to Cedar Rapids, Iowa and spent the night with my Grandad. He was the one who helped me outfit Monster and he'd met me in Texas back in April. It felt like a real full circle moment to spend one of my last nights on the road with him.
The next day, I fueled up on gas, cheese curds, and coffee at Kwik Star (Iowa's name for Kwik Trip, still my favorite gas station after testing out other fan-favorites across the country). Then I headed for my home state.
My drive into Wisconsin was across the driftless area-- the rolling hills, silos and bright red barns welcoming me home.
Before I truly went home to Wauwatosa, though, I had one last night to spend on the road. As I drove out of Wisconsin back on February 25th, I had made the plan. Nana and Bapa's house would be the final stop of my cross-country trip. November 18th. They just didn't know it yet.
Every single person in my family played a part in making this trip a reality for me. It was my dream to drive across the country on my own. Not everyone understood it, but they helped me gather my gear, gave me a big hug, and watched me go. Their support gave me the courage to do it. Some family members were able to join me along the way. Nana, Bapa and Grandma were the wind in my sails from back home. I called them all of the time. But I couldn't wait to actually see them again.
That's why it was so important that they became one of the stops on the road for me.
I got my cousin to make plans with them so I would know that they're free. She and Tyler would meet me there for dinner that night. When I turned down their street I was so excited that I was shaking. I pulled in the driveway, walked in the back door, and gave Nana & Bapa a big hug.
Home. I was home.
We had Luigi's pizza that night. The next day I pulled into the driveway next to the house with the red door and the white star and saw my dog again.
Every day since I've been home I've thought about Hatch, Zion and all of the other beautiful places and people I got to see last year.
I'm really proud of myself.
I'm happy to be home, and to take weekend trips to visit friends. I'm also happy to look ahead at what my next adventure will be. Where I'll go.
When I think of my time out West, I get butterflies in my stomach. I feel sad, nostalgic, misty, joyful, peaceful, grateful. All at once. And I smile.
How wild it was, to let it be.
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