Blog 1 — Judah Voss

*(From left to right: Colin, Knoll, Cam, Carson, Shepard)*

In May of 2021, a couple of my good friends, a soon-to-be favorite plush minion toy (pictured below, called “Jerry” by those close to him), and I traveled from our base in Waco, TX across the western United States. I will now try to recount the fond details of the trip almost a year later in a coherent behind the scenes so that I might learn you a thing or two about ways to travel there yourself as well as learn about the chaos of my friends and I.

Sedona

*Hula Girl (left), travel partner Jerry (on cowboy hat)*

School had just let out, my truck was still in the shop from some tourist (wanting to see Waco? Not sure the thinking there) running a red light and stopping in the intersection forcing me to hit him. Haven’t gotten over it yet. So the need for a adventure was high in my mind. My friends agreed with this idea and off we went.

Our first stop was Sedona and our time there set a great precedent for the rest of the trip. The park was saturated with beauty from the moment we entered. We arrived at sunset and the drive to our camping spot alone could’ve filled an SD card. I had never seen canyons and rock formations like that. They shot up from the ground glowing in a glorious shade of orangish-red that gave the road, our faces, and the beams of light sneaking through the trees a magical feel.

The camping spot we found was perfect but wasted no time in giving us our first of many coats of dirt. We set up our tents, or for me and Colin - a hammock stretching from the car top rails on our two vehicles, and started cooking one of the many store-bought camping meals we proceeded to live off for the next several days. The weather was fantastic, the stars covering the sky, and a feeling of overwhelming calm urged on by the peaceful colors of Sedona flowed through me as I swayed in my hammock there in its breeze.

*Cam (definitely climbing), Knoll (Possibly photographing)*

The next morning we woke up and climbed a route Shep and Carson had scouted out the night before. It was a beautiful route that took them through a gash in the rock, making it seen as though they climbed up and atop the eye-socket of the mountain itself. I crashed my drone into one of the walls, Knoll, Cam, and Colin flashed the entire state of Arizona, Colin stole a camping sign from the side of the road and we moved on. We ended our time in Sedona with a hike that took is to an arching rock land bridge that was apparently a tourist favorite. An old asian couple asked me to take their picture on the rock-bridge. I got some pictures of them, but I spiced it up by tossing in a couple little treats with the selfies I took in the middle of it all.

Got a laugh from the people behind me, hopefully from the couple as well later on. Our pictures on the rock, when our time came, were lackluster. Can’t trust strangers to have a photographic eye I guess.

After that we moved north, towards a little known spot in Northern Arizona aptly named the Grand Canyon. We left Sedona and its signless street pole behind.

Grand Canyon

The drive around the rim of the canyon was truly humbling. Pictures, as it is well known, do not capture the scope of it. The distant river and the specs of people maneuvering around at its base emphasize the comical vastness of it. The countless plateaus and spires within it, each alone deserving of a stand alone hike absent their surroundings, making it completely reasonable that it was all I could do to stand and study the landscape for long stretches of time.

The Grand Canyon lived up to its name. We walked to its edge, took some pictures, almost pulled the trigger on a traverse camping trip, found out that we wouldn’t have been allowed to do it in the first place and left. Its a dumb national park that is stupid anyways and I didn’t want to cross it, lets get out of here guys.

Lake Powell

2 days and 1 night in and we were already on to our 3rd stop. We were wasting no time in our attempt to maximize every moment of this trip. The drive from the Grand Canyon was a long 3 hours, and the confusion of the absence of a set parking lot, no way to get a pass from the entry, and the tendency for the sand to become loose without warning was testing everyones patience.

A memory that sticks out is when I told Knoll to pull around a specific area of the beach to get a better look at the layout, and we promptly got stuck. He then shut off the car out of frustration, having not wanted to go this way to begin with. Tension was high but we managed to push the car out of the disguised quicksand death trap trying to eat his car and all of our possessions and set up camp. They set up again in tents and Colin and I basked in the starlight cocooned in our hammocks and Army issued sleeping systems.

The night turned itself around once we cracked a mix of shiners, seltzers, or IPAs (depending on the camper) and the tripod chairs popped open (depending on if you had one). Although I cannot place the details, I remember the conversations had that night particularly fondly. We all seemed to be finding the rhythm of the trip and adapting quite well. We all seemed to just be happy to be there, grateful for the presence of friends in such a beautiful place, and the convenience of Jetboils.

The next morning we swam in Lake Powell (a body of water that at the time of writing this is experiencing extremely little rain fall and is incredibly low). But at that time, the water was inviting and provided great camping shower. Cam swam out to Lone Rock, the rock tower seen shooting up from the middle of the lake, surpassing all of our expectations, and confirming his claims of swimming prowess.

Once the sand on the beach started burning our feet, we packed up our dust-covered belongings and headed out, bound for the land of canyons, known to the locals as “Canyonlands”.

Canyonlands

Our next stop, and highest quality camping spot came in the Canyonlands in Utah. This was as deserty as the trip got, but also provided a great spot to just reset and allow ourselves to relax. Not needing, but maybe still wanting, to explore all the landscape had to offer.

We had rolled in around 5:30, and were bummed out by the lack of open spots. We decided that our best option was to illegally sneak off into the rugged land and find a spot for ourselves, like the early explorers would’ve wanted, when Shep chose to check with the park ranger as a last ditch effort before we disappeared into the desert to start our new life. That was when we all learned something fantastic, dare I say - life changing. Some camp grounds have reserved handicap camping spots set aside and unavailable for purchase during the working hours of the day. However, if not occupied they can become available for first-come first-serve at various times depending on the park, and these ones opened at 7pm.

We scored an awesome spot at the last second, and put our plans for desert conquest aside. The tripod chairs popped open, Jetboils flared to life, and of course hammocks swung between sap-covered trees (sap that might still be on Knoll’s hammock to this day). We hiked various rocks and chasms throughout the backyard of our campground and perched as high up as we could get for the sunset, letting the gift of a day fade behind the spires of rusty sandstone. Our camp fire was a hard one to maintain as the gathering of suitable wood seemed to be a regular struggle around this area and was picked clean. Ours survived on dead weeds and accessible twigs, but it brought out southern accent impressions and commitment to developed fictional characters from Knoll and Colin that could’ve impressed any movie critic I know (I dont know any).

The next day was spent exploring the park in the form of couple short hikes and one prolonged pursuit of a shifty little lizard. I took a photoshoot of Shep jumping between a stack of rocks that turned out to be some of my favorite pictures from the trip. We then set our sights on the crown-jewel of Utah (and the place of death for Knoll and Cam’s feet), Moab.

Moab

As the pace of the trip quickened, the places we left behind urged us to stay and appreciate all it possessed that we had yet to explore. Moab did just that, coming and going in the blink of an eye, and leaving our appetite for climbing and rock exploration completely intact.

Having driven from Lake Powell, and needing to end the day in Fairplay, CO, Moab was a small stop along the way but did not allow itself to be outshined. The beauty in the rolling rock and impressive arches demanded admiration - even in the couple hours we spent there. We took a hike up to one of the more famous arches and relaxed in its column of shade with several other tourists.

*Tourists collected like cats in a sunbeam, but reversed.*

One thing I am still kicking myself for today is that I when I flew my drone around the arch, I hadn’t taken off the altitude ceiling on the drone itself an couldn’t fly above 100 feet. I was under the impression the airspace laws of the park automatically kept the drone below a certain level through some permanent altitude limiter technology something-or-other. But in reality, I was just an idiot that missed some great shots because I wasn’t familiar with my own drones baseline settings. I blame my cousin, Mike, who after generously bestowing upon me the drone as a Christmas gift, failed to thoroughly explain every minute detail of the drones function so I wouldn’t have to do any work of my own.

Knoll and Cam decided that the sun-baked rock made a perfect test of will to see if they could endure the hike barefoot. And in the recalling of this detail within the trip, it kind of dawns on me that this is why you take trips like these with others. The weird, nonsensical decisions that add flare to the experiences create the nostalgia that comes with reliving it. They did end up accomplishing their goal, but I seem to remember them struggling the next day after waking up at our cabin in Fairplay, but such is the price for overcoming a great test of will in the name of “dude what if we…”.

We left Moab as we found it, minus a couple burgers and coffees from the Moab diner, knowing it had only shared with us that there was so much more to it we didn’t see.

Fairplay

Our last stop in the trip brought us back to the cabin in Fairplay that has been a regular destination in our group throughout college. This time around, however, was particularly special. Not only had I only ever been to this cabin during the winter to ski Keystone and Breck during school breaks and was eager to see these familiar mountains during a different time of year, but that first morning we woke up marked the beginning of Shep’s birthday.

The combination of a much needed break from the our self inflicted cycle of camp-drive-hike-drive-camp, the luxury and familiarity of the cabin, and Shep’s birthday resulted in spirits being at an all-time high. With a plan to go hit Breck’s bar scene that night to celebrate, we got ready along side a sunset deserving of the occasion, from which came one of my favorite pictures from the trip, and college in general.

Breck treated us well. Shep and I went on an adventure to help a girl from out of state find her missing friends (they were in the backyard of the bar she found us in), the others made some friends with some drunk dudes and tried to flip a smart car. You know, normal Breck activities.

I think we all look back on that portion of the trip especially fondly because of how naturally everything happened. Sometimes plans work logistically, and sometimes they work in terms of it being exactly what people are wanting to do and where they want to be. Shep’s birthday, at least how I remember it, was the latter.

*Colin, Knoll, and Cam swimming in a snowmelt stream*

The next day, we woke up and headed down to Denver for the day to explore and eventually meet up with our buddy, Stryker, who had moved there after graduating that past December. Having dinner at a restaurant each of us (besides Stryker) was underdressed for, we said our goodbyes to Stryker and Denver itself and headed back into the mountains to finish off our last days of absurdity.

The next couple days we spent hiking trails much too snow-covered to justify our choice in tennis shoe, and sled jump construction over rocks much too exposed to justify our choice to actually try the jump at all.

And just like that, we were driving back to Waco, just in time to attend our friend Caroline’s birthday. In a blink 5 national parks, hundreds of miles of expansive desert road, thousands of video and picture captures, numerous cases of Shiner bock, and 1 fantastic shared experience among 6 friends who agreed to this plan way too late for it to have worked as well as it did, came to an end. The bittersweet drive home passed slowly and the euphoria that permeated through the group as brought on by the beauty of the outdoors faded back into a faint glow surrounding the memories made on the trip.

These kind of trips are very curious to me. I leave each park or destination thinking to myself “Man! I could spend the whole trip here!” - only to move onto the next all to soon. But alternatively, because of that structure, I become exposed to another piece of nature that I would not have seen before, creating a double-edged sword in knowing where I am about to go will be a great new experience but will force me to leave this place much too soon.

Now almost a year later, we are once again beginning the planning process of a new trip way too late for how much there is to decide. So maybe we didn’t learn much besides to always check for handicap camping spots, sleeping in a hammock always sounds like a dream until your back is sore for the next week, and holy cow we need to do that again guys everybody got their stuff?

Shotgun!

The Southwest United States