we started out from yorba linda, california. this was not our first road trip, but for some of us, it was our first road trip together. we were kids and we were traveling on a budget, but we were as free as we’ll ever be.
our destination was utah, but no rooms were booked prior and we were debating where to stop first. we took a look on the map and saw vegas and a collective grin of fun and sin took over our faces.
justin had a voucher that allowed for a free 2 night stay in vegas if we stayed mid-week, but it was only valid after march 30th and it was march 26th. we called anyway; we thought we may get lucky.
no such luck, but calling different hotels on the way there for the best rate helped pass the time.
we ended up getting a room at the quad for $47, better than most motel rates and is located on the strip. we only needed a place to sleep and shower. the quad used to be imperial palace and still had all the kitschy chinese decorations and fake bonsai trees. it smelled of burnt cigarettes and cheap-alcohol vomit. it was in the process of being renovated, but i don’t think anything could save this place from itself.
our room also had faint stains of questionable smells and you can’t really expect much if you’re paying $47 split between 4 for a room. all of this didn’t matter anyway, we were in vegas and we were going to have fun. the night quickly spiraled into black and neon and i don’t remember much of it, but i know i was up at the tables.
we left early the next day, or tried to. mornings are always painful, but we need the light. we were all packed and ready, but for some reason, it took an hour to get from our room to the car. the elevators didn’t work or were too full so we tried to find another way. we walked up and down stairs and found the service elevator, which was cavernous and had marks that looked as if someone was clawing the walls to get out. the service elevator didn’t go to the lobby, so we picked a floor and it made this terrible groan. i looked at elissa and tram and pointed out the claw marks along the walls.
“it looks like something died in here.”
i was joking and we were laughing, but i was beginning to think it was impossible to leave this place because when we finally got out of the elevator we somehow ended up right at the beginning, waiting for the same elevators we were waiting at before, but this time, prohibited from using the stairs (long story that doesn’t need to be any longer). we were on the 5th floor; it shouldn’t be this difficult. we were less than 2 hours away from zion and it felt like we’d never get there. the quad was like this bad dream you couldn’t wake from.
after a couple glitches and granola bars, we finally made it to zion. the weather was crisp and nice. none of us had really been to utah, but first sight of zion blew us away, the kind of sight that makes you question things you don’t really want to question because you know when you do, you have the responsibility to do something about it. i don’t know if that made any sense to you, but we were barely inside the park and i already knew that how we were thinking, living, doing— all of this had to change.
we took many pictures, but all of them came out flat. it just didn’t compare to the experience of actually being there and being present. even now, when i see the pictures, it looks like a painting, like none of it was real and maybe that was the point.
- stop taking pictures and just be present and enjoy.
we first thought of going to the emerald pools, but ended up on angel’s landing. we knew there were chains involved and steep climbs, but we didn’t really know what we were in for.
the whole climb, up and down, took us 5 hours (the average time, we were told, was 3 to 4).
it was probably more like a beginner’s climb for some, but none of us have ever climbed anything so high or so steep, involving chains and a non-fear of heights.
some parts were so narrow and questionable, i can’t believe we made it. every time i thought that this had to be it, you look up and you realize there’s more to go. it was as if it never ended. you get to a point where you tell your brain to shut up and just do it.
it’s probably like life. you just have to keep going, no matter how ugly things get. you can choose to stop and turn around, but just make sure, whichever way you choose to go is something you can live with.
2. most things in life that are worth it require work.
we met many people along the way and every time they were coming down, they all said: you’re almost there. maybe 15 more minutes. it’s worth it.
what we’ve learned:
3. ‘almost there’ is different for everybody.
and i never want to hear it again.
i was the one who encouraged the most breaks. i’m completely out of sorts, but when we finally reached the top, i was just so proud that we all made it together. climbing a mountain was never part of the dream.
instead, it was now an experience that i could remember for the rest of my life and it was definitely one of the most physically hardest things i’ve ever had to do.
day two: bryce canyon.
the night before we stopped at a motel about a mile away from bryce canyon. we finished a bottle of jameson.
in the morning, it was jameson and ramen. i refilled our flasks, one for each of us. when i passed them around, i felt like the alcoholic oprah.
“you get a flask and you get a flask and you get a flask…”
when we first arrived at bryce, our collective first words: oh my god.
those weird rock formations, we learned are called hoodoos and they were everywhere. these pictures don’t do any of it justice. if you ever get the chance— go. don’t think. just go.
there was no cell reception and we had the whole day.
in fact, most of our trip, we had no cell reception. no cell reception would drive elissa crazy. she was obsessed with finding 3G; she needed to instagram. she was amazing though. she always made sure we were going the right direction and unfortunately, we needed network for that, which no one had, but her.
we had our lunch, an almond buttered whole wheat sandwich, overlooking inspiration point, right at the edge. we sat and stared in silence.
we never saw anything like it and yet we didn’t want to be sober.
we went back to the car to drive the .5 miles to the entrance of queen’s garden. i had no idea that this was about to be one of the best days of my life.
in the car for some last minute provisions, we finished one flask, three more to go. we made our way to the trail that was recommended to us, the queen’s garden trail. the gentleman at the visitor center told us, “it is the best 3 mile hike in the world!” that’s a tall statement and even then, we didn’t expect anything. we were already blown away by what we’ve seen so far, how could a hike be better?
it was barely noon and we had all the time in the world. it started off with desert plants, dead trees, and multi-coloured soil, which i couldn’t get over. some would shimmer with pinks, lavenders, and greys. other soil was darker and broody. the trees jagged in multiple directions and dead bushes all lived a story. i don’t know what it is about desert plants, but i’ve been attracted to them my whole life, maybe it’s the california in me; desert and sky feel like home.
the trail took us steadily downward. we didn’t realize we were going to walk through the hoodoos until we were standing side-by-side right next to them. as we went deeper, we were completely surrounded, hoodoo to hoodoo, bathed in sunlight. there’s so many beautiful places in the world and we haven’t gone on every hike, but the gentleman was right. it was the very best 3 mile hike we’ve ever been on.
on our hike, there were 3 kids (2 boys, 1 girl), that no matter where we looked, they were right there. we’d pass them and then somehow they’d show up right in front of us, on top of a hoodoo or racing across the path. we could not escape them. at first, it was a little annoying, then it just grew into this funny situation. it started out as something we didn’t want, but now we can’t imagine the experience without.
we finally met the mother, a kind woman from salt lake city, who didn’t bother keeping up with her kids. she stayed on the trail and her youngest (the daughter) was chasing after her brothers, trying to do everything they did.
she told her mother: mom, you’re missing out.
she was four.
the other boys were probably no older than 9 and had plastic utility belts and were playing make believe on nature’s playground. a couple hours into the trail, one was sitting at the top of a hoodoo, likely the eldest. his younger brother asked him something that i didn’t catch and the boy shouts back downward: you’ll see. we’ll find a way.
and as if the universe had conspired for us to hear this message, we all turned and looked at one another and felt something, and we felt it together. it probably had a different meaning for each of us and i can’t tell you exactly how this made me feel, but it touched me deeply. in the moment, it made me feel as if anything was possible and i never want the boy to lose that sentiment. life can get in the way sometimes, but something tells me, he won’t let it.
4. there’s always a way.
we ended up underneath this cut-out of a giant boulder with a large tree trunk for a bench in its space. we sat here purely because this place existed. we opened another flask.
from underneath the boulder, we had a picturesque view of tall trees and white snow, then a deer comes sprinting through, pausing in the gap of the trees, giving us a clear shot. we were in nature and this is probably normal, but it felt like magic.
we were nearing the end of the trail and we were climbing in and out of hoodoos. i picked up one of the rocks, it was a pinkish red and i told them, it reminded me of steak. they thought i was crazy or hungry or both, but i thought it was gorgeous. between the red and the pink were streaks of white like marbled meat. i wanted to take it home with me, but as i started to climb back down, it was crumbling in my hands and i realized that sometimes you just have to let go. i placed it back down. it wasn’t mine to keep.
5. don’t try to hold on to something that doesn’t want to be held.
back at the top, tram looked back at the hoodoos and said, “it looks like someone just placed them there.” and with her hand pretended to plop one of them down as one would a lego. i told her, “some would say that’s god.”
an overwhelming feeling of joy and completeness kept affirming itself inside of me. i took a breath and i felt alive and grateful. i shared with my friends: i think this is one of the best days of my life. and i thought to myself, “how lucky i am to be feeling this and be completely aware of it at the same time.” i wasn’t looking back and thinking it. i was there, presently living out one of the best days of my life and i knew it. i don’t think you get too many of those days; i’m grateful i had one. i’m also grateful knowing that there’s a possibility that i could live another day like that again.
day three. the arches.
we were finally feeling the pain from climbing zion and bryce that taking a simple step was a ginormous task. we wanted to see delicate arch— the iconic symbol of utah, the arch plastered on most utah license plates, but the gentleman at the visitor center gave us fair warning that it would be a bit of a climb.
tram and i weren’t exactly looking forward to this and no one likes a debbie downer so i was doing my best not to complain, but my face said it all.
the hike up was beautiful. it was simple and plain, but the sky was so blue; it almost seemed untouched. it was a steep climb, but flat. it was as if someone cleanly sliced a huge boulder at a 50 degree angle.
we get to the top and justin decides he wanted to climb the boulders the rest of the way, instead of walking the trail. he hands tram his camera and points to a spot ahead of us and tells us to wait for it.
we watched him run across boulder surfaces and then place himself out on a ledge, posing with one leg and one arm out, with his face staring straight ahead and serious, then he switched positions where he squats and sticks his arms out.
i told tram: he looks like he’s on something.
he finally met us on the trail and he asked if we got the shot. we did. then he asked: did i look like a bird?
we burst out in laughter. we finally understood what he was trying to do, but he looked nothing of the sort.
we had a little bit more to go to reach delicate arch, but nothing unbearable. at one point, i stopped talking; i just wanted to take it all in. where we were, what we felt, whatever any of this meant— i wanted to remember it as best as i could. the arches were different than the other parks. actually no two parks were the same. the land was different. the grooves were different. the air was different. everything together cemented how beautiful and diverse the world is and how little did we actually know.
we get to the arch and were surprised of its scale. on the license plate, it looked small. in all of the pictures we’ve seen, it looked small. the name is also “delicate.” the reason for this was because we had nothing to compare it to. we didn’t have a person standing beside the arch showing us how big it actually was.
tram started reading information; she told us that these arches were formed by ice and snow and takes millions of years to form. when you hear that, it turns all rock formations into celebrities. it also puts things into perspective.
6. great things take time.
we took a different way back to the car. it was easier, but not as pretty. on the way back, we saw a woman in her mid-40s pushing a stroller up this 50 degree incline on semi-uneven ground. there was no baby inside; it was just a woman pushing a stroller. elissa started laughing uncontrollably: it doesn’t make sense! it just doesn’t make sense! why was she doing that?
i sarcastically replied: she gets it to the top and rides it back down.
i didn’t think it was that funny, but elissa couldn’t stop laughing even more. the woman with the stroller was a bit odd though. i felt a little sympathy for her because pushing a stroller up a mountain was probably really hard work, but it really didn’t make any sense.
we get back to the car and made our way to the next sad town: blanding, utah.
justin took over driving for the night, which i’m forever grateful. tram and i sat in the back and finished the rest of the flasks. in tram, i had a person who drank when i drank and that was refreshing.
we made a stop in verdure, utah because we saw this beautifully abandoned house. we didn’t realize that verdure is actually the oldest mormon settled town in ‘the blues’ (abajo mountains) of utah.
we kept making true detective jokes saying how most towns in utah looked just like ‘someone’s memory of a town,’ sad and fading.
we stood outside the fence of the abandoned home. we debated for a minute whether to cross or not. tram and i were always all-in. we hopped over and made our way.
i wanted to see what they left behind, if anything. i just wanted to see something. they left behind a green coat and the place was a wreck inside.
eventually, a car passed by and paused, knowing we were trespassing. it was time to leave.
blanding had a bowling alley that was open until 10 and was located at a gas station with an a&w. it was located a mile from our motel room that was listed as 1 star, but happened to be the best room we shared this whole trip.
we walked there, but i don’t remember the walk back.
day four. monument’s valley, dust storms, and home.
all the bottles of jameson were done. we had this terribly sweet mason jar of ‘moonshine’ and strawberries and were well on our way to finishing that too.
the only radio station we could get to play on the way to monument’s valley was some navajo drum song and occasionally country.
the earth was red. the canyons were red. the dirt— red. our shoes, our lives. everything, just red. it looked like we were on mars, if that’s what mars looks like. you’d think hours on the road would bore you, but all the different pieces of road never stopped being interesting.
there was no walking required at monument’s valley. driving conditions were harsh and the sky was clouds. every now and then, gusts of wind picked up and threw dirt at our windshield, which should’ve served as a warning. driving was painfully slow that monument’s valley moved in slow motion. it was all silent red giants on flat red land.
we said our goodbyes to the red earth. we had to start the 10 hour drive back home. work, reality, school— all began the next day, but this didn’t feel real. for four days, we were together and we were alone and away. time stopped, but unfortunately existed.
they all fell asleep and i was at the wheel. tram was fighting to stay awake with me, but i told her it was okay. every once in a while, gusts of wind would pick up sand and dance in pretty circles across the road. i caught myself distracted by them.
wind started to pick up and soon we found ourselves in an uncharacteristic dust storm. the dust, at times, was so thick i could not see the road in front of me for 20 seconds at a time. tumbleweeds, big and small, came at us in the direction of the wind going at 90 mph. for two hours, i kept thinking how unsafe this was and how i needed to stop, but pulling over seemed like a terrible idea as well.
tram finally woke and eventually, the others. i had elissa search how long it was going to last and which direction it was going— 5 hours and away from us. we decided to stop and eat somewhere in northern arizona still 7 hours away from home. we had navajo fried tacos and wore indian head dresses that we couldn’t afford. by the time we left, the wind was calmer and visibility was better.
we made it to california just as the sky was changing colors. there were lights and cars and big roads, and time made itself known again. my phone rose from the dead and life, in the form of: phone calls, emails, texts, and social media took over my thumbs, then my eyes, and eventually my soul. i’d like to get them back, but not quite yet.
one day, i’ll be out on the open road again and it will be my only reality, but i want to earn it first. so for now, i’ll continue working on my other dreams,
now knowing that there’s always a way.
