Smoke Signals

There is something about the feel of the wheels going round and round as everything I’ve just experienced is in my rear view mirror.  There is something about the prospect of a new adventure, going places I’ve never been before.  There is something about the feel of following the call of “the voice within” that leads me to new destinations and powerful new experiences.

I woke up in a Durango campground after spending another Thursday evening enjoying the night life in Durango, which included Thursday concerts in the park.  I had driven the long, windy, mountain road from Durango to Silverton in the dark, several times now and didn’t feel I should push my luck.  I opted to stay.  In the morning the air was thick with smoke from the forest fires.  Evidently the firefighters decided to fight fire with fire and had started several small fires to manage the big one.  I ran some errands and headed back to Silverton, hoping the air would be clean there.  As I descended into Silverton there was a thick layer of smoke, resting on the small community like a heavy fog.  That was my smoke signal.  That was my sign.  It was time to go!

It took about an hour to get my camp in Silverton packed up and I pulled out around 3pm, heading over the big mountain to Ouray and Ridgeway.  I found a beautiful campsite at the Ridgeway State Park, just outside of Ridgeway, perched above a large lake.  Fourth of July week was upon us and campers were out in full swing.  Getting a campspot was a challenge.

There was a sadness in my heart, leaving behind the place I had grown to love so much, and the people I met there, but the signs couldn’t have been any more clear to me.  It was time to move on.

My next destination was Carbondale, Glennwood Springs and Aspen, all located in the same area.  I had been to these places before and remembered their raw beauty, with jagged mountain peaks stretching up into the sky and lush green valleys down below.  In some places there were red rock formations like Sedona, mostly in Redstone and Glennwood Springs.  Finding camping was a challenge, but I settled for another commercial campground perched over a river and the freeway.  It wasn’t ideal, but it was a safe place to park for the night.  I enjoyed a concert at the river park in the evening and a pint of “So Delicious” non dairy ice cream; something I didn’t have very often.

The next morning I packed up camp and headed to Aspen.  All camp spots were full for days to come.  That was the case in Carbondale and Redstone as well.  Aspen was crawling with tourists and bumper to bumper traffic.  I didn’t feel to stop and walk around the town.  I wasn’t in the mood to shop for overpriced touristy items and I didn’t want anymore coffee.  I kept driving back down the mountain to Basalt where they were having a Sunday Market.  I ran into my friend Hinton, from Sedona, who I also ran into in Taos, New Mexico.  Like me, he was living in his Van, only it was a full time venture for him.  We enjoyed reconnecting, catching up and spending a bit of time together before I continued on my journey.

Since I had no place to camp, it felt time to continue on down the road.  I didn’t want to go to any of the heavier populated area’s in Colorado, so it was time to leave the state and head to my beloved Northwest.  I was born in Anacortes, Washington, the Gateway to the San Juan Islands.  I had explored much of the Northwest already, but it was still home to me, and I always loved returning.  Going from the Southwest to the Northwest was a long drive of several days.  Since it was Sunday and I worked on Monday, I would have to stop somewhere to take clients.  Fortunately it was a light week, because it was a Holiday, so I cleared the spaces on my Calendar that weren’t yet booked to give me more travel time.

I didn’t pull out until 3pm, once again, and arrived in Brigham City, Utah at nightfall, finding a trusty KOA campground to park for the night.  My first client wasn’t until 11:30 Mountain time the next day, so I got an early start and made it to Pocatello, Idaho, got an oil and transmission fluid change, a Starbucks, and settled in at a local park to begin my work day.  I had a several hour break in the afternoon as a client failed to show for her appointment, so I drove to Idaho Falls, and settled in at the river park overlooking the falls for my next two clients.  I found a Natural Grocers in Idaho Falls to stock up on my favorite traveling foods between sessions, gassed up the car and pulled out after my last session at 7pm.  I drove until nightfall and found a free camping area in a small Montana town, about a half hour from Butte, Montana.  My destination was Whitefish, Montana for the fourth of July.

When I arrived in Whitefish, it was pouring rain.  Such a contrast from the dry, tinderbox of Colorado.  Whitefish embraced me with one of its few remaining tent sites to park my van.  It was a blessing to be welcomed in this way.  As the rain poured down, I nestled into Red Raven (my minivan) with my journal, grateful for the warm, dry place I called home.