Hand petroglyphs, Canyonlands National Park, Utah
February 18, 2020
Yesterday I loaded my Subaru with way more supplies than I needed (and without sufficient heed as to the placement of the supplies I would need each night) and set off on an 8 week journey of camping across the American west.
I turned 50 last year and have been experiencing a crisis of sorts. I know having a midlife crisis at 50 sounds hackneyed, but there you go.
I wasn’t prepared for turning 50 as a man, especially one trying to simultaneously get a business off the ground and figure out what the next stage of my career should be. And I certainly never thought I would be turning 50 as a married man living in a two story house in the suburbs.
About two months after turning 50 my Beloved convinced me to go river rafting down the Colorado and Green Rivers with her. She had been twice and loves the red rock of the Utah desert. I was more than dubious— I don’t swim well, I wasn’t keen on spending five days with strangers I couldn’t escape; and was quite worried about peeing since I can’t seem to live in a world where I don’t have to worry about bathrooms. But I went, and I loved it and thrived being immersed in nature. There was an amazing peace I experienced at night under a sky unlike anything I had ever seen before. And then I came home and that peace evaporated within a week.
Even before the trip I had been playing with the idea of taking off and driving west to Yosemite and camping along the way. Maybe not a gap year (which, let’s face it, is unrealistic for most folks), but maybe a couple of months. The need to do that became much greater as the 2020 election maelstrom started heating up. In October the Texas Republican Party made it clear that they planned on weaponizing transpeople again, this time by denying trans children medical care. The lies and vitriol, and hatred are almost too much, especially when coupled with this 24/7 news cycle.
Gila Cliff Dwellings, Gila National Forest
So here I am. It’s midnight, and I’m sitting in my tent on top of my Subaru (it’s a bit like my own personal treehouse) in the middle of Gila National Forest in western New Mexico on the banks of the Gila River with three natural hot springs steps away from my tent. The sky is spectacular on this mostly moonless night. It’s amazing how much light stars can give out. I can hear the river 30 yards away and that’s all I can hear. Before climbing up into my tent for the night I skinny dipped in one of the hot springs— the first time I’ve ever done anything like that in my life. Earlier in the day I hiked up to the Gila Cliff Dwellings and walked through the ruins of 600 to 700 year old homes.
I started reading Ross Gay’s book of essays, The Book of Delights. Gay tried to write one little essay every day for a year— all on something that delighted him. Three days into his experience he missed a day— something that oddly delights me. One of the things I struggle with is feeling like everything has to be perfect— that it’s all or nothing. So my delight today is twofold— hiking up the side of a cliff to see these 600 year old ruins and seeing someone embrace imperfection
Sunset, Gila Hot Springs Campground