The 6 Day Road Trip Reset
For my birthday, I decided to take a week off work to go on a road trip around the western US. Initially, I was going to take Pepper and rent a camper van to drive around, but Nipunn needed time off and we realized the trunk of the Tesla was quite roomy with the seats down. We decided to borrow a camping mat from a friend and the three of us hit the road together.
Here’s the route we followed for our trip!
Day 1
On the first day of the trip, we drove from our overcast home in San Francisco to Lake Tahoe, about three and a half hours away. Before we even reached the lake, I began to feel calmer and happier. As we approached the lake from the south, I became captivated by the deep, dazzling blue of the water. Driving up into the mountains among the sky-high pines and firs in the full California sun was the dose of medicine I needed to start off the trip right.
We didn’t have any reservations that night (we forgot to do any camping planning until the night before we left — oops!). We stopped at every open campground along the west side of the lake to check for open spaces, but people filled every one due to the July 4th weekend. It was kind of silly to stop and ask even though we knew they would all be full. But the rejection was not bothersome. It kept our day’s travel to a leisurely pace.
Once we finished our grand tour of Tahoe’s campgrounds, we made a stop at the charging station in Tahoe City, CA for a 45-minute break from driving. It was a good chance to stretch our legs, give Pepper some water, and use the restroom.
I approached the Shell, despite having parked at the EV supercharger across the street. From the outside, it looked like a regular gas station. But guys, if you’re ever in need of a pit stop coming out of Tahoe City, this Shell gas station is the place to go. New tile, clean space, no random bits of toilet paper everywhere, no weird random marks or gouges in the toilet. It even managed to not be completely wet all over the counter/floor between the sink and the paper towel dispenser. It had a notable lack of Sharpie graffiti.
I walked into that Shell happy but prepared for the classic gas station experience, and walked out pleasantly surprised — almost bolstered by having been.
We continued on to Truckee while searching for Bed and Breakfasts further along our route. After a few calls, it was clear none were truly in the price range they had listed on their websites. At some point, we settled near the entrance to a shooting range along the edge of a small reservoir to enjoy a simple dinner of Tasty Bite and ready to eat rice. We were alone to enjoy the faint, muted pop of shots being fired and the undeniable serenity of the reservoir. Alone, save for a few friendly shooting range members who all waved as they came and went.
In the end, we continued all the way on to Fernley, NV, about 90 minutes beyond what we originally planned. Even so, it was a relaxing day. And on the even brighter side, picking up the extra miles on the first day’s drive enabled us to move up the subsequent stops along the trip, meaning we could add the Grand Canyon to our route. This was a development I was thoroughly thrilled about!
Day 2
Since we decided to alter the course to accommodate a visit to the Grand Canyon, I had to make a few calls and move reservations around. Incredibly, through some combination of us not planning accommodations fully, me making errors while initially booking the trip, and the west’s apparent July 4th holiday spirit, we didn’t pay a single change or cancellation fee to update our plans at all.
I have to admit, that was a lovely way to start the day.
My good fortune was energizing, and I wanted to have an outlet for that. I pulled my ukulele out of the back seat. I was ready to strum and sing full blast. Minutes in, my neck was starting to feel weird, though, even though I had only been playing for a few songs, plus I was getting a headache. At first, I thought it was some combination of car sickness and dehydration. But then I realized I was craning my neck to reference the ukulele tabs on my phone, which was laying in my lap. You know the neck angle I’m talking about.
I dug some random items out of the center console: an N95 mask, an empty Soylent bottle, a wadded up piece of paper, some other trash. I was looking for building materials. Eventually, I ended up with an elastic suspension system that allowed me to attach my phone to the inside of the visor. Nipunn dubbed this act “Maya-gyvering”. The setup was solid though! I played for over an hour with the phone at eye level. I have to admit, I am somewhat proud of that off-the-cuff engineering achievement.
And the one thing I learned through all this is Nevada is e x p a n s i v e. Like, wow, it goes on forever, and you can see it going on forever. There were moments it seemed like we could see the road laid out straight for the next 20 miles. The odd thing was, no matter how far we drove, it seemed to me that we were driving through flats completely surrounded by mountains. I thought: maybe all of Nevada is crumbly, dry, flat, and not that good on its own, kinda like a giant shallow pan of graham cracker crumbs waiting to be topped with thick, lemon cheesecake batter.
Maya: What’s a food that’s dry and you would never eat without having water or milk nearby?
Nipunn: Desert sand.
Maya: That’s what I’m comparing it to, pick something else.
Nipunn: But you’re saying you would eat desert sand, or..?
Maya: I’ve got it! “a giant shallow pan of graham cracker crumbs waiting to be topped with thick, lemon cheesecake batter”
Nipunn: That’s what I’m usually waiting for.
Maya: To be topped with thick, lemon cheesecake batter?
Nipunn: Isn’t everyone?
A quick google search brought up something called the Great Basin, so maybe I’m onto something there. Get your lemon zester ready.
At the end of the day, we were near the Nevada/Utah border, close to the salt flats where numerous world speed records had been broken. There, the land felt spongy beneath my feet, somewhat like the safety materials they use in new playgrounds. It was white, or light grey, and covered in car tracks and horseshoe prints. Pressing my finger into the earth here left a small, round divot with soft edges despite its dry, cracked appearance.
I had a strong feeling of wistfulness looking out onto the salt flats. I had read stories about people who drove off the edge of the road and went out for miles to be alone there. Camping in solitude without any roads to be seen or heard nearby. I tried to imagine looking out in every direction and seeing nothing but flat, glimmering whiteness. At once I felt free, but also nearly suffocated by the danger in the promise of the immense aloneness.
I was pretty wiped by the time we got back to our cabin. After a few minutes of enjoying the evening from our picnic table, I went inside to lay down. Only a minute or two had gone by before I started hearing muffled thuds in the distance. I assumed it was the children from another cabin playing a game outside, but then Nipunn poked his head in and said there were fireworks.
It was the 4th of July after all.
So I went back outside and stood with Nipunn and Pepper as we watched the vibrant pinks and blues illuminate the sky. We were quiet, softly smiling in the simple pleasure of watching fireworks with nowhere to be, and finding comfort in the knowledge we would not have to suffer crowded public transit or neighbors setting off fireworks in the street when it was all over.
About halfway through the fireworks, I decided a small treat was in order. Fires were prohibited in every place we were going to stop during the trip. It took only .03 seconds of hesitation before I gleefully started ripping marshmallows in half lengthwise and stacking them up, cold, onto graham crackers topped with oversized pieces of dark, salted chocolate. Not exactly your typical camp snack experience, but somehow sharing that makeshift s’more with Nipunn during the fireworks finale in the cool breeze of a hot night was everything I wanted.
Day 3
We set off mid-morning amongst the splendidly shimmering salt flats. There wasn’t much to see, yet there was something positively enchanting about driving down the highway past the all the sparkling and twinkling salt, as though the road were flanked on both sides by tons of tiny, perfect diamonds.
Pair that with highway mirages, intense heat, and the Tree of Utah, the first half of the day was downright surreal.
And now came the worst part of the trip: actually going into the Great Salt Lake. You may be wondering to yourself: why was this the worst part? This is one of America’s beauties, well known around the country.
You will hate the experience just as much as I did if you ever decide to visit the Great Salt Lake. Let me tell you why.
You will walk down to the beach.
You will take off your shoes as you approach the sand.
You will begin to hear a faint buzzing but won’t know why.
You will start seeing live brine flies buzzing around after you take a few more steps.
You will have your feet pelted, gently, by flies buzzing over and around your feet as you continue your approach.
You will begin to find it challenging to consciously place your feet to minimize the number of flies you step on.
You will feel every single cell in your entire body contract as you take 4 or 5 more steps, depending on the length of your legs, in this shoreline that is 100% made up of fly carcasses.
You will make it through the carnage to the lake, filled with relief, except ..
You will eventually have to turn around.
You will realize you need to once again engage with the waves of inanimate insect bodies.
You will force yourself to take those 4 or 5 steps to exit the lake, lest you die in there, and become fly fodder.
That’s 4–5 steps. Each way. Ankle deep. In a micro-sea of dead flies.
Don’t believe me? Think I’m exaggerating? Watch this YouTube video someone else took of this gut-wrenching experience. Yes, those are waves of flies.
The only other notable experience we had that day was a quick stop at Utah Lake to enjoy some vegan pastries we’d picked up south of Salt Lake City. There were a surprisingly large number of people out on the beach, despite the recent COVID outbreak there. Instead of joining them, we drove out on an odd little jetty to enjoy our pastries and to watch others enjoying the sun on jet skis and boats from the comfort of our car.
Day 4
I was super enthusiastic to go to Zion National Park. I had heard about it often from friends who had traveled there, and it’s known to be one of the major reasons Utah is the most naturally beautiful states in the country.
Here are my thoughts on Zion:
🔥 It’s hot
🏜 There are lots of big red rocks
🧗🏻♀️ No, bigger than that, and more of them
⼤ It’s H U G E
🐶 Don’t bring your dog because, unfortunately, it isn’t doggo friendly :(
🌊 Bring water and snacks instead of your dog
🤩 Wowza, it’s looking good, so keep your peepers shined
I was legitimately disappointed that in the entire National Park there exists only one trail where dogs are allowed to hike. The trail is basically completely flat, mostly paved, less than 2 miles long, and runs along the river from the visitor’s center to the canyon junction.
No viewing the canyon from high-up ridges.
No intimate strolls through the Narrows.
Bummer dude, bad scene.
Just me and my pup and my Lil Doggo, Baby Girl™ hanging out near(ish) the visitor center parking lot.
On the bright side, it means I get to plan a follow-up trip to Zion 😇
Day 5
We woke up at 3:30 am to get packed and going towards the Grand Canyon. It was an hour's drive from our campground in Jacob’s Lake, and we wanted to catch the sunrise over the canyon.
Even though it was an early start, it was well worth it. Butterflies fluttered by outside the car window, and salamanders scurried across the uninhabited road. Well, kind of uninhabited. Until we came around a somewhat sharp turn to see a herd of about thirty bison slowly crossing from one meadow to another. They seemed to be gentle creatures, deserving of respect. They were very polite, as well! Once they saw the beams of headlights approaching, they picked up the pace and even nudged their little babies to finish crossing quickly.
We soon saw a sign for Grand Canyon National Park and, to my surprise, things started to look lush and green. I had always heard stories about people dying after getting lost in the Grand Canyon, some of them from dehydration. I assumed the entire park was just one gigantic desert. It was pleasant to find that wasn’t true, and honestly, I was glad to have some time with the giant trees.
We hastily parked and got out of the car, since we arrived relatively close to sunrise. We didn’t want to miss it. Half jogging, half skipping, we approached the North Rim near Bright Angel Point. I could barely contain my excitement as we got closer. I wanted to see it!
I have to be honest with you: taking a photo of the Grand Canyon isn’t even worth it. There is no way to capture the pure immensity of it in a photo. There is no way to capture the way you feel when you look at it. My mind couldn’t comprehend the scale of the dang thing.
As far as I can tell, looking at the Grand Canyon was the only time I wanted to cry while looking at nature. It’s easily the most beautiful, breathtaking thing I’ve seen in my life.
Looking out into the canyon, I felt a deep sense of endless possibility. It stretched on, as far as I could see from the east to the west. It was so deep I couldn’t see the bottom in places. It was vast.
And that was invigorating for some reason.
It made me want to scream. It made me want to run. It made me want to try new things. It made me want to do things I already loved doing. It felt extremely intense in a way nothing else has ever felt to me. And I wanted to hold onto that intensity inside my body forever. I loved it.
It was almost like being in a dream. And experiencing it during sunrise …
when no one else was around,
when all I could hear was the light breeze,
when the sun was barely starting to glance off canyon walls,
… was magical.
Day 6
I wanted to make a brief detour off the highway for a few miles to see if we could spot a Mojave tortoise. I knew it was unlikely — many desert animals don’t come out between the twilight hours due to extreme heat. But I was hopeful and feeling a bit into humoring my childish desire, so we went for it a few exits after we reached Mojave.
And in a moment when I lifted my eyes off the ground, where they had been scanning for any signs of life or small round objects, I noticed what I could only call the “cactus tree”.
I immediately fell in love with the tree. It was quite odd. Sturdy but kind of wiry. The tufts just at the end of the branches, perfectly round. The tree looked completely unreasonable, almost like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. It was bizarre to the point of absolute delight, and then I blew past that reaction on to borderline fury that any living thing could be so perfectly, freakishly, outlandishly, ludicrously absurd. Kinda like when a baby is so cute you want to rip its cheek off, only absurdity instead of cuteness. That’s how I felt (and still feel) about this tree.
I instantly set to work figuring out how I could have one at home.
I was eager about the prospect of seeing more trees and more shade soon. Our last stop was in Sequoia National Forest, which conjured images of huge hug-friendly trees, cooler temperatures, and respite from dry air. But as we approached our destination, it became clear that our expectations were not going to match reality.
When we were still about twenty minutes away and the temperature was still in the mid-90s, I began to dread staying in the heat and sun, but I tried to hold onto hope that maybe we would be just at the edge of a real forest but still inside it.
The hope was for naught.
We pulled up to a sunny spot on the edge of a lake with about thirty trees providing little to no shade to anyone in the midday sun. It wasn’t clear who the camp host was, we didn’t know how to check-in or find our spot.
Nipunn’s arm was still in a sling form his shoulder surgery. Consequently, I felt compelled to single-handedly set up a tent he borrowed from our housemate — one we had never set up before, and that was a tad more complicated and a tad less symmetrical than those lovely four-person jobs that go up in five minutes.
It was hot af.
It was windy af.
I was grumpy af.
The perfect combo for a little solo drama 😏
After spending twenty minutes trying to set the tent up in the intense wind, we finally got it to be adequately vertical to unzip and throw rocks inside to keep it from blowing away. We still didn’t have the rain fly on and that was not a straightforward addition to the setup, either, so I threw it on the ground and stomped off to the car in frustration at not having help and not caring about setting up the tent at all.
Then, I did my favorite activity ever, which is to get mad at myself about getting mad about something, and then subsequently feeling guilt that the other people involved (Nipunn) have to deal with me, and thought maybe I should just crawl into a hole and not come out until enough time has gone by that no one else could possibly remember or care about what happened anymore. The last step, and this case was no exception, was to guilt myself for being in a bad mood and not even trying to be productive on top of it.
I got out of the car and got back to work on the rain fly.
If I’m going to be a pain by being salty, I might as well at least be useful.
Even though I was actually able to get the rain fly attached rather efficiently, I committed to my pessimism as I sat at our picnic table, watching the wind blow the entire tent over and along the ground, despite the five heavy rocks we had chucked inside.
I wanted to go home. Immediately. I wanted to comfort of sleeping in bed. I wanted cool temperatures. In this case, I didn’t feel compelled to commit to the mistake. I presented my idea to Nipunn, and though he tried to convince me we might want to try staying another place, perhaps along the coast or in the Sierras, my heart was set.
So we began the rest of the journey, projected to take seven hours, home.
It was the right decision. We drove up the coast while listening to RadioLab, watched the sunset over the farms of California, and quietly munched the last of our snacks
in the heavy satisfaction
of solidarity
to complete the trip one day early.
TL;DR
Traveling and vacationing safely can be challenging to do, but nature and novelty are the golden combination right now. Getting fresh air and some new brain stimulation in the form of staggering natural treasures while disconnecting from digital and work-life rejuvenated me. It instilled a sense of ease that had been missing from my life for months.
If you need tips on how to pull off a similar fantastic (and fantastically cheap!) vacation for yourself, contact me. Nipunn and I have lots more tips and memories we’d be happy to share.
PS: Yes, I did google the cactus tree when I got home. I got mad the results kept bringing up Joshua Tree National Park when I was explicitly searching for a cactus tree in the Mohave National Preserve. It took me about five minutes to realize why that was happening. I’ll let you guess why that is.
