Tread & Truth

I laced up my hiking boots, their toes dusted and soles painted with Colorado dirt, remnants of a chapter both old and delicately new. As we drove toward Arches, I learned that some in our group had bought their very first pair of boots for this trip. I smiled at the thought and felt an unexpected excitement to share in the experience.

Between hikes, we listened to a virtual guide describe the difference between a bridge, a window, and an arch; how the bright green soil was born from volcanic ash; and how cyanobacteria quietly strengthens the earth, holding it steady against erosion. By the time we returned to the hotel, the sun had long started to sink. But the day wasn’t ready to end. After a sunset dinner, we made our way back to Panorama Point, where the night opened around us. Looking over at my friends, I couldn’t help but laugh. All six of us were stretched awkwardly across concrete benches, our backs and legs holding us parallel to the ground while the benches supported our head and chest. Looking back at the dark sky, the Milky Way shimmered faintly across, Its beauty softened by the moon’s gentle glow, as if reminding us that even light competes for space in the vastness of the desert. Just as quickly as we were entranced in the beauty around us we were pulled into a fit of laugher as the quiet night was interrupted by Kristina asking, “So can we go get ice cream now?”

A week later, I returned to Moab alone, to explore Arches and Canyonlands once more. In both my old role and my new one, I’ve grown used to traveling solo. There’s a peace that comes from the rhythm of the road and the silence of a trail. My thoughts move more freely when the ground crunches beneath my boots and my mind has room to breathe. But this time, the quiet echoed moments of shared laughter and the comfort of voices I’d grown to admire.

It’s been difficult to write about this trip. How do you describe a week that made time feel suspended. Where laughter, sweat, and desert sun blended into something that changed you? I’ve rewritten these memories more times than I’d like to admit, chasing the right words to honor the moments of the quiet, extraordinary beauty of connection and I’ve come to the conclusion that some stories are meant to settle in your heart and not on the letters of a page.

My first solo trail was Delicate Arch and after the steep incline and winding narrow path I found myself standing underneath the Arch gazing out onto the horizon and back to the ridge where some waited their turn to snap a photo and others sat safely on the edge of the ridge, cautious to move against the steep trek to the base of the Arch. Later, I found a quiet place to rest, and quickly found myself talking with strangers, something I rarely do. We traded stories and in those small exchanges I felt the same warmth that had carried me through the week before. After saying goodbye to a couple heading back down the trail, I reached for a pear, a gift from a woman whose gratitude had already said more than words ever could. I ate it slowly, the sweetness grounding me in the memory of what connection really means before heading back.

The next morning, I turned my alarm off at 4:30 a.m. and joined another group of strangers hiking before the sun to watch the sunrise at Mesa Arch. As the light crept over the canyon rim and poured through the sandstone window, I felt tears trace down my cheeks. The scene was breathtaking — golden, vast, deep — and I wished, in that quiet moment, that I could share it with the women who had filled my heart just days before. Connection is such a devastatingly beautiful thing. It carves us open, fills us up, and lingers long after the goodbye.

Near the end of my final day and before my flight home, I drove down Potash Road, stopping to walk the dinosaur and petroglyph trails. My camera clicked not just for me, but for them, the women now scattered across the nation and the world, whose kindness, dedication, and passion are woven into the landscape of my memory. Some trips end when you leave a place behind; others follow you home, whispering reminders of what it means to be part of something bigger than yourself.

Recommendations

Season – Fall – Early October

Arches National Park

• Delicate Garden Trail
• Windows Loop/Double Arch Trail
• Balanced Rock Loop
• Panorama Point at nightfall for Milky way viewing – be sure to look up the moon phase

Canyonlands National Park

• Mesa Arch Trail – From Moab this is can take up to 1 hour. Spots fill very quickly and I recommend being on the trail 45 minutes-1 hour before sunrise to get the best spot. I arrived at the arch 40 minutes before sunset and was met with a dozen other people.
• Whale Rock Trail
• Grand View Point Trail

Dead Horse Point State Park – I did this last so I only stopped at Panorama Point

Potash Road

• Jug Handle Arch View point
• Dinosaur Tracks Trail – One of my favorite, very short but the dinosaur tracks and petroglyphs were amazing.
• Stop and view the Petroglyphs – multiple areas

Back of Beyond Books – quaint bookstore within Moab

Sunset Grill Moab – Patio seating had beautiful views

Love Muffin Cafe – Great breakfast burritos