I made plans. Rearranged them. Then altered them once more. There is always a detour somewhere, so I knew these plans were in no way solidified.
Thus I found myself on the road a day ahead of schedule.
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After six hours and one million dog hairs floating around my car, we arrived. Seventeen miles of dusty red dirt. Camping pull-offs every half-mile or so. The valley was our oyster.
The red dirt greeted us with a dusty coating. The sun welcomed our faces with warm, outstretched rays. The hounds immediately took to sniffing out the best spots...to pee. Everyone has their own priorities, I guess.
Our home base was tucked away down a side road -- a dirt road off another dirt road. There wasn’t much traffic on the main road, but this gave us an extra layer of privacy and seclusion. Keeps the hounds at a medium level of overexcitement.
Herc likes to gets huffy and puffy when other folks pass by: Hey! Hey you! Who are you?! What are you doing so close my mom? Why are you somewhere close enough that I can see you?! Move along! Scram! Skedaddle! Aroooo!
Cool Whip, on the other hand, just wants to know if they brought snacks to share: Hellooo! I see you are a human. Humans have snacks. What snacks do you have to share with me?! Hey, you get back here and give me your snacks!!
I set up camp facing my favorite group of monuments. A perfect view from the tent and the big rock I intended to use as the kitchen area. With evening fast approaching, we spent the last bits of daylight exploring our road and the local ravine.
The subtle hustle and bustle of the valley dropped to almost imperceptible hum. The breeze slowed. No other vehicles passed by. Essentially all I could hear when listening hard with the blood rushing through my ears. I imagined everyone else in the area was in a similar situation: silently staring up into the sparkling night sky. Heaven.
As dawn began sprawling across the land, the hounds started rustling about in the mess of blankets and sleeping pads. The usual start to our morning routines. I layered on everything I can find and we bustled out into the brisk morning air. Our breath puffs floated around us. Herc snorted about, checking for any traces of midnight visitors. Cool Whip sought out the closest bathroom bush, knowing that breakfast preparations start as soon as all potty pit-stops are complete.
Coffee is delicious. Coffee in the outdoors is a little extra delicious. Coffee in the outdoors on a crisp morning is the most delicious. The coffee that morning did not disappoint. In a classic Kris-type move, I had stopped at REI less than 24 hours before departure to gather the remaining “necessities.” This particular cache contained a new drip filter for my morning brew. Easy, lightweight, and small -- win!
Filled with adventure fuel, we set out to explore. We roamed and rambled. Stopping anywhere that called to us.
And that became our routine: Adventure and explore, soak it all in, refuel, adventure and explore more.
Hiking a trail with a specific route and checkpoints to reach has its appeal for sure. There is a definite point of completion and success. But there is something equally enticing about having the freedom to roam. Success is obtained by simply being there.