Sarah's Southwest Sojourn

When my aunt kindly invited me to join them for Thanksgiving at my grandfather's funeral in September, I began to formulate the idea of a southwest road trip.  When I realized I still had a valid National Parks pass, I extended my trip and Sarah's Southwest Sojourn 2017 was born. 😊

Running at Cathedral Rock, Sedona, AZ

The itinerary looked like this:
Sunday night--stay in Pueblo, drop off cats
Monday--drive to Sedona
Tuesday--Sedona
Wednesday--drive to Phoenix
Thursday--Thanksgiving in Phoenix
Friday--drive to Grand Canyon, then spend night in Zion
Saturday--run Zion, drive to Moab
Sunday--home

I got off to an early start and arrived in Sedona by 1 p.m.  However, as someone who is allergic to crowds and tourists, pretty much all of Sedona is not the place to be.  I had no idea it was such an expensive, frou frou and crowded area...it's supposed to be known for it's spiritual healing energy and vortexes. 

This very gross creek was my shower for three days (it was
also freaking freezing both outside and in the water).

Looking for a gas station Tuesday morning after a cold night sleeping in my car, I discovered Sedona is also the kind of place that disguises all their "normal" buildings in frou frou pretty building materials.  I almost drove past the station because it looked like some sort of fancy strip mall.  Rolling up in my dusty Subaru of which I can barely see out the back window, with a sleeping bag bed in the back and dirty clothes, water bottles, shoes and towels strewn everywhere, I'm surrounded by $60,000 Rubicons, Land Rovers, a Mercedes and one smart car kind of thing. 

I realize I'm wearing running tights covered in orange poofy ski pants, grey wool socks and Uggs clogs, a blue running hoodie with a nordic print ski sweater over it, a hand knit hat, and no makeup.  I haven't showered in two days.  When I walk in the gas station, literally every head in the place turns to stare at me.  I use the bathroom, buy two jugs of water, a toothbrush and coffee.  People are still staring. The girl at the register looks at me pityingly and gives me my coffee for free.  I suddenly realize these people probably think I'm homeless and living out of my car.  This is not a place for dirtbag trail runners like me. 

With not much better luck on the trails, I decide to throw in the towel after 18 miles instead of the 30 I'd planned.  I drive to the adjacent town of Cottonwood to buy firewood, strike out on decent beer so settle for a bottle of Prosecco, and grab 3 packets of M&Ms as an after thought.

Life, in this moment, was perfect. 

Having never before in my whole life ever made a campfire by myself, I'm a bit nervous. Years of *watching* campfires taught me you need to get a fire burning hot enough to light the logs on fire.  So I go on a tinder gathering mission, and rip up half of my maps and travel brochures.  I light a variety of things on fire in my tinder pile, and luckily have a light breeze to help me fan it.  All of a sudden it goes "whoopf", the logs light on fire, and I have a campfire.  In about three minutes.  I made fire!

I don't have a glass for my wine, so I pop the cork and drink it straight out of the bottle.  Chomping on M&Ms, watching the sun set, warming myself by my campfire and chugging Prosecco, my campground neighbors pop over bearing fresh Thai food and beer.  We sit together, chatting, eating, drinking, until the fire goes out. 

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A rare moment of solitude on Camelback mountain.

Arriving in Phoenix Wednesday, I'm grateful for the hospitality extended to me by my father's family.  However, it was more difficult than I thought to have to repeatedly talk about 1. why I don't have a relationship with my father and 2. my recent divorce.  Feeling a little over socialized, I bailed on the turkey trot plans for Thursday morning, and found myself in a conga line of families and couples headed up Camelback mountain instead.  Seeing every other person with someone else on the trail made me realize this was the first holiday I'd been single in seven years.  Why did it bother me so much to be officially alone, when I always did so many things by myself anyway? 

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Past the tour groups, sprinting down into the canyon

I rolled out of Phoenix at 4:30 a.m. Friday morning en route to the Grand Canyon.  I wasn't overly thrilled about the prospect, but figured it was a logical stop on the way to Zion.  I'd seen magical pictures of Zion for the last year on Instagram and it was on my bucket list of places to go.  The Grand Canyon just seemed like a bunch of rock and a canyon... we have plenty of both in Colorado.

Google maps was insistent that the road to the North Rim was closed for winter (it wasn't), so I decided last minute to hit the South Rim and pray I was early enough to avoid the crowds.  Having absolutely no plan whatsoever, as I had planned to run the North not the South, I headed out on the paved Rim trail and hoped for the best.

Plateau Point

After running a little under 3 miles, I arrived at the Bright Angel trailhead.  It said it went down into the canyon, so I figured, what the heck, and headed down.  After blasting past about 20 hiking groups, I finally found myself alone, cruising silently in the dust.  I could see a trail in the middle of a puddle of sunshine way down below, and I decided I wanted to go there.  

Arriving at Indian Garden, about 4.5 miles down, I saw a trail for Plateau Point.  Mentally reviewing the image in my mind of where I wanted to go, I decided it looked like it was on a plateau.  I turned onto the narrow trail and crossed my fingers I was right.  Looking back up at the canyon walls, I wasn't eager to go much further, as I'd already descended about 3000 feet and still had the extra miles on the Rim trail up top to tack on after ascending.

I was right, and I arrived at the end of the trail in literal awe.  You could not see the canyon from the Bright Angel trail, and everywhere I turned was a picture out of National Geographic.  Grinning stupidly, I turned in circles, taking a video, pictures, selfies... 

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I made it to Zion that night, but due to a navigational misunderstanding and lack of efficient planning, was unable to see any of the Instagram worthy sights I'd hoped to find.  Not overly fussed, as I'll be back in April for a 50K, I decided to skip my trip to Moab and burn through the night to get back to Colorado. I couldn't face another night sleeping in my car and was feeling a little "road tripped" out.  I was 113 miles from home when I blew a tire outside the tunnel on I-70 and despite my best efforts (and cussing) could not manage to change it myself.

While Zion was a disappointment, the campground was
top notch with showers and wifi!