Road-Tripping: Past, Present & Forever
Getting swept away in the waves that surf the walls of Antelope Canyon is all it’s cracked up to be.
I love it when people reach out to me with trip questions or just wanting to brainstorm about travel. I love it when I inspire someone to step outside their comfort zone and fly solo for the first time, visit a state they never thought they'd visit, give the "Wild Card" option at the rental car center a try. I love being your Guide to the Great American Road Trip.
A kind stranger recently reached out to me, asking how I plan my road trips and what I do to feel safe while traveling alone. She explained that she'd recently taken a short-distance road trip by herself through a national forest within her state, but she wasn't really able to enjoy herself because that lingering question that plagues so many of us ambitious solo travelers kept coming up. "What if my car breaks down while I'm all alone on some desolate road with no cell service?"
It's a valid "what if," but here are some practical and cerebral ways to feel better about it.
– Familiarize yourself with the area you'll be traveling through, ahead of time. Mapping your journey out through roadtrippers.com is the best way to do it because once you start plugging in your waypoints, all sorts of other points of interest will begin popping up nearby. Restaurants, landmarks, monuments, hotels, parks, quirky roadside attractions, neighboring town names, and more. Having an awareness of the places I'll pass along the way helps put my mind at ease when driving with no cell service or GPS signal. It's like following a trail of breadcrumbs to get to where you want to go. And if you're feeling a little uneasy about traversing the unfamiliar, this is a great way to feel like you're already familiar with a place you've never been. "Oh, that's Stewart's Diner! I remember seeing it on my Roadtrippers map. Cool!" It's fun to get that, "Hey, I know that place!" feeling when you're in a place you've never been.
– Pay attention to mile markers, and trust road signs. Think back to what it was like to get from point A to Z before GPS. We relied on road signs, fold-up maps, handwritten, and verbal directions––all of which still make great just-in-case backups. But if you didn't think to gather them in advance and you're out on your own, and you've lost GPS signal, mile markers can be particularly helpful if you have a general awareness as to where you're going and how far you are from your destination. Try to keep your GPS's mile countdown top of mind so that if you lose signal, you'll remember that you've still got another 33 miles to go on State Route 207. Then, as soon as your GPS goes, take note of the very next mile marker, and each one after that to keep track of how much further you've got to go, either to your next destination or the next road you need to take. Sometimes, just keeping in mind the general direction your traveling in can be really helpful. Less so in more populated regions like the Northeast where you occasionally have to take I-95 North to go south, but in places like that, you'll almost always have GPS signal and cell service, so no worries there! But when you're out in "god's country" with a lot less people, less reception, there are also far less roads intersecting, which actually makes it easier to stay on track. If you're heading southeast, you'll be on a route that's taking you south or east, and then the next road you need will be headed in the other direction you're traveling in.
– Let people know where you're going and when you plan to get there. I don't love doing this because there's a certain thrill...a very free feeling that arises when no one knows exactly where I am. But, practically speaking and if you're concerned about traveling through no-cell zones, this just might be the number one thing you can do to put your mind at ease. If you're leaving Prineville, Oregon at 9:00 AM and heading straight to Crater Lake National Park, you should arrive around noon. If a friend or family member hasn't heard from you by later that afternoon, and they're unable to reach you, there are lots of things they can do to locate you. Now, since you may not have service while you're in the park, this makes it trickier to let people know you've arrived safely, but having a mutual GPS tracking app like Find My Friends or Life360 could be helpful and comforting. I'd also be curious if the Find My iPhone feature that's available on all Apple devices could be useful here as well. I haven't tried these GPS methods, but I suspect they could come in handy for anyone worried about getting stuck somewhere.
– Trust humanity. If you break down on a desolate road, someone will eventually stop and offer help. I've had this happen several times, mostly when I was well and fine, just pulled over admiring the glorious, wide-open nothingness that sweeps the western wing of our nation. But once, I was stuck on the side of the road after a big-antlered buck plowed through my car. I was relatively close to home, driving back to college, but I just so happened to be on a road that had no cell service. A woman in a pickup truck pulled up behind me within a few minutes of my accident, and she somehow magically had just enough cell service for me to call home. It can be a hard notion to hold onto when your mind's being bombarded with that automatic, knee-jerk "Oh my god, how will I ever get out of this alive" reaction, but perspective is everything and ever-changeable. Remaining calm and redirecting your attention will shift your focus and your frame of mind.
– Try not to worry about it. I know this sounds simple and begs a "duh" response, but really…if you're going to get stuck or if a bear's gonna come take a bite out of your car or if something else crazy is going to occur, it won't be any easier to deal with because you worried about it in advance. You'll have worried twice as opposed to once (if it happens) or not at all. All worrying really does is poison right now. What will be will be whether you worried about it prior to or not. In essence, this is the practice of mindfulness and learning to witness your thoughts and not be so powerless to them...actually choosing the ones you wish to engage with and discarding the ones that aren't serving you. It's watching your thoughts appear and disappear instead of letting them take you for a ride. The Waking Up app is one that's changing my life day by day each time I meditate and apply these practices to consciousness everywhere. I highly recommend this as well and not just for road-tripping purposes.
I'll admit that the looming question of "What if I get stuck and can't call for help" is a concern that crosses my mind as well when I travel, particularly when I have no cell service or GPS signal. Or if my phone isn't working, therefore leaving me with only paper maps, instincts, and the occasional road signs to guide my sleigh. But truthfully, the natural anxiety that would be understandable for anyone to experience while traveling alone through no man's land is and has always been absent in me. From my very first solo trip to my most recent, I feel comfortable, exhilarated, utterly alive, and so capable when traveling alone…it's like when Cinderella slipped her foot into that made-for-her glass slipper. It just fits so perfectly and feels so natural and right.
I like feeling like I can drive anything. I like feeling like I can conquer any road, any obstacle that arises. I like the challenge of thinking on my toes when something unexpected and undesirable presents itself. I like being alone – I enjoy my own company. I like driving and discovering what's just around the bend. It's cool sometimes to see all of this reflected back to me through the eyes of others. Some think I'm crazy to travel alone, some totally get it.
"I'm constantly impressed by you. I'm doing ok, but driving an unfamiliar vehicle, in a totally unfamiliar area, listening to an unfamiliar GPS is quite challenging. And you've done this more than once. Wow!" This was a text I got from my dad back in 2015 on his first solo road trip and after my second. It's still special to read. Somehow to me, the car, the road, the sites, my experiences…it all feels like it's just waiting for me. And I hop right in and drive right along as though I belong there. Because I do, wherever I go.
Thinking back to the first time I ever rented a car and stayed in a hotel by myself. I was 23, and it was October 23rd, 2013, and I got myself to Tucson, Arizona from Scottsdale. It wasn't a particularly long trip, but it broke up my first-ever journey to my beloved Bisbee. The trip to Scottsdale was a business trip for my mom that I'd tagged along on. I'd always had a fascination with Arizona, and I've always loved (and always will love) tagging along on my mom's business trips, so it was the perfect set of circumstances. And looking back the years I've watched my mom fly all around the world for work and pleasure, sometimes solo, sometimes in tandem...this trip was almost like taking off the training wheels to my independent expeditions. Or perhaps it was the year before when I tagged along on a business trip to France and took Paris on all on my own. Either way, I can identify so many factors that have groomed me for the ways I choose to explore.
While my mom's days were packed with meetings, mine were free for venturing as far as I could drive in a day. I rented a car, and drove up to Sedona one day, made it back in time for room-service dinner, and catching up with Mom. Another day I drove through Superior and Globe on the Gila-Pinal Scenic Byway, then back to Mom for the night. And then came the drive down to my beloved Bisbee by way of Tucson, Nogales, and the Patagonia-Sonoita Scenic Byway.
Why in the world did I make it a point to drive through Nogales? To pick up that beautiful byway for sure––back then, I was just starting to dabble in byway exploration, and I wanted to try the most diverse I could find. But I think I also wanted to go through Nogales because it felt a bit risky...I wanted to see just what it'd be like to drive that close to the Mexican border. I remember seeing billboard ads for McDonald's, and local dentists, and lawyers all in Spanish. The closest I got to Mexico was just a few hundred feet north of the border before I linked up with the byway I'd set out for. I didn't even get out of my car in Nogales because staying in it with the windows up, and doors locked just felt like the right thing to do. I just wanted to feel a faint yet potent brush of danger, and keep truckin' along my merry way. I have sound travel instincts, and I trust them implicitly.
I ended up having a border patrol SUV behind me for a good 20-30 minutes of my drive through the wheat fields and grasslands of Santa Cruz County. Now that made me sweat. I was guilty of no crime, there would've been nothing to worry about even if I had been pulled over –except a potential speeding ticket from before I noticed who was tailing me, but regardless, I couldn't wait to not have that truck behind me anymore. Once he was gone, I was back to carefree cruisin' in my Chevy Cruze.
That was the morning after I'd spent my first night ever alone in a hotel. My mom decided she liked the idea of me staying down in Tucson better than me trying to cram too much driving into one day, and I was overjoyed at the opportunity of crashing alone in a new place, though never doubting my ability to drive many miles for many hours. It was a Marriott Residence Inn (I think) on the eastern outskirts of Tucson (I think).
On my way to it, just about a mile away, I blasted Jack Straw by the Grateful Dead as I rolled into town, scream-singing "Half a mile from Tucson right on the borderline," even though the real lyrics are "Half a mile from Tucson by the morning light." I was overjoyed. I ordered room service all alone for the first time in my life. I was enjoying the hell out of my own company. Should I shower? Maybe I'll paint my nails. Maybe I'll look at my pictures from the trip so far! Maybe I'll just veg out and watch something funny. Or maybe maps? Ooo, yes, maps! I'll look at maps for tomorrow. And maybe my next trip! I was enthralled by the possibilities and just so proud of myself for being there and everything I was going to do the next day.
I'll never forget it for as long as I live…the feeling that washed over me...the pride, the exuberance, the self-care, the self-reliance. I was completely hooked after just that one night alone. I pride myself on resilience in life, among other things, like paving my own way and facing opportunities and challenges head-on. So the victory I earn when driving from here to there, making my own decisions, giving myself these thoughtful experience gifts...it brings about a feeling unlike any other. And it's the kind of thing I could never get out of a lounging beach vacation.
The next day, I drove to Bisbee and fell head over heels in love with the town. I didn't even have to spend a full day there to know I'd met my match in a mile-high mining town tucked away in the Mule Mountains. Bisbee is me in town form. It's colorful, quirky, unexpected, and predictable at the same time. It's cheerful and welcoming, haunted and friendly, and it's got good solid bones with ever-evolving extremities.
After that trip is when road trip planning took on a life of its own for me. Or perhaps put more accurately, it created a whole new forever branch in my life. By today's ArcticTumbleweed standards, I started relatively small with that first trip. Four road-tripping days within one state and spanning, oh maybe 600-700 miles or so. My next adventure would be completely on my own, hitting all of the Four Corners states plus Texas, because I was and forever will be completely enamored with the Southwest. I declined the requests of friends and family wanting to tag along left and right. There's nothing anyone could've said to have weaseled their way into my me time. It was an eight-night trip, and I was determined to cram in every sight and activity I possibly could. I faced adversity on that trip...had to reroute a few times on that trip, chased a tornado in a town that hadn't seen one for over 40 years, then got a tattoo the very next morning on that trip. Check out Screamin Mimi's of Amarillo, Texas…it's a neon green and pink house on a residential street, and Filipino Chris was fantastic.
As much as I'd planned for that whirlwind of an adventure, I learned there was so much more I could've done to better prepare, like packing a car phone charger for starters. I've improved my planning tremendously since then. Partially because it's so fun to obsess and research everything in advance, and partially because getting away is expensive, and I want to get the most out of every bit of my trips. It drives me nuts when I come home and find out that Palo Duro Canyon was RIGHT by Amarillo, and I never knew it existed. I soothe myself with the sweet reminder that it's just giving me another reason to go back someday and explore some more. There really is that much to see in America alone that every time I go somewhere, I learn about several more places I didn't get to see in the area.
Planning my trips is how I design the framework of my travel experiences. My road maps are like the blueprints to a house, and my experiences are filled with all the fun, unique things you'd fill a home with. I'm steering my trip – I'm going where I want to go, when I want to go, and with whom I want to go with…me sweet me. I love the spontaneity that strikes along the way, even with my meticulously mapped days…it's just like me – the perfect blend of planned and unplanned, the perfect blend of right and left-brained.
