At 1:20 on Thursday afternoon, May 13th, I pulled out of my driveway and oriented my truck north on I-25, and started on an 8 day adventure.

My trip took me principally to Lincoln, Nebraska, where I could join the rest of my family celebrating my niece Faith’s graduation from high school.

Added into the adventure were two planned national park stops, and the certainty of some camping in a few locations.

I drove toward the Great Sand Dunes in Colorado for the first stop of my adventure, where, at the park’s campground, I spent the night eagerly anticipating a climb up a dune in the morning. And as that happened, I enjoyed every laborious step of that trek.

After the Dunes, I drove up the west slopes of the Rockies and then made for Denver and then northeast Colorado, scanning TheDyrt, a campsite finding app on my phone, later in the evening in a panic for a campsite until low and highly-charged clouds approaching from the west told me to find a cheap hotel in Fort Morgan, Colorado, which I did.

There, I learned Glenn Miller grew up as a boy in that little town.

And then it was on to Lincoln, for two- no, three- no, FOUR days of celebrating Faith and hanging with family. It was great. I went to a baseball practice to watch my nephew Jaedon practice becoming a catcher. I bought licorice candies downtown. I watched Mentalist episodes with the kin. I went to a fantastic graduation shindig for Faith, and then a second family-only one, which was enjoyable to watch her opening gifts commemorating her accomplishment.

And, in Lincoln, with so much kin, I was reminded, and I told myself to remember.

Family is very important.

And then my adventure continued.

I made my way back into Colorado and crossed the Rockies for a second time, and ended up at my quiet and solitary high elevation campgrounds in Paonia State Park, just down the road from Carbondale. After an uneventful night, I rolled down from on high into Montrose, and made my way to Black Canyon of the Gunnison- the second must-see national park that was on my short list of two- where I spent a full day mesmerized by the massive and deep gorge.

As afternoon became evening, I rolled on west to Loma by Grand Junction, and set my truck camp up on a site on farm property I had reserved. The coolness of mountain air exchanged for warm air in the arid region, and the treeless plain I was on welcomed a night of unforgiving steady and howling winds, and at 2AM, I got up and disassembled my tent and stowed everything back in their road-ready places, and finished the brief night trying to sleep in the driver’s seat of my truck.

And at 5:30 the next morning (Friday), I was driving before sunrise to the entrance of Colorado National Monument (but not before sidestepping to a nearby Starbucks for coffee and a breakfast sandwich).

Despite my sleepless state, I welcomed sunrise as I ascended switchbacks on a hill of the park and enjoyed light spilling through clouds over Grand Mesa to the east. And this park, a late destination decision, turned out to be as appealing as the last two, keeping my attention for the equivalent of a full workday.

I deemed to drive straight home after visiting CNM, but it was a fool’s idea. That, coupled with a journey on the Million Dollar Highway over several passes between Ouray and Durango under snowfall told me I was too tired to complete the remaining four hour drive back to Albuquerque.

A cheap (but-just-on-Durango-scale-only) hotel gave me an evening to rest up before I made my final drive home- a rest that was most appreciated, despite the low talking neighbors in the uninsulated adjoining room.

My final drive home today was only interrupted by a necessary Blake’s burrito stop in Aztec, NM. And the rest of the drive was sunshine and clear skies and wind bursts.

I arrived home at about 1:20 this afternoon.

2300 miles later.

2300 miles between events and places of interest, between destinations and decisions, between familiar and the familial, between plans and expectations and actualities and assessments.

And in those miles, I thought a lot about life.

My life.

My desires.

My disappointments in myself.

My hopes.

My appreciation of having a good family.

My aunt, who passed away about a year ago this week, and who she was to me, and to my family, and what her influence was on me.

Po the cat, who was her cat.

What I want in my future, which I face as I am now, with ailments and insecurities and scrambled priorities, and my need to recover those.

My missing the better me I used to be- and wanting to find him again.

My delight in my family.

And my need for them.

And my need to continue getting rid of things in my life that I do not need, that do not help me to be a better me.

Miles give you time to think quite a bit, when you aren’t white-knuckling your steering wheel coming down a snowy grade, or fretting about the night’s accommodation, or thinking through the list of all the things you think you should have brought for the trip that you didn’t, until you start thinking about the things you brought on the trip you wish you had left home.

But what I do know, coming home from this most enjoyable trip, is that sometimes you need miles to make you get some perspective about where you are going when you aren’t on the road.