Weightshifting

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Weightshifting S2E27: All good things…

Day 27: Oct 6, 2023
Bishop, CA →
San Francisco, CA

Miles: 250

—

As I drift off to sleep, I smell fire. I drowsily brush this off, equating it to a possible nearby camper who ignores “No campfire” signs. The tent flap remains open, allowing for ventilation and for keeping overnight condensation to a minimum. In the middle of the night, I awaken briefly to a more pervasive odor, thinking, “They’ve been going at this fire for hours now.”

#57
October 10, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E26: There’s been an accident.

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Day 26: Oct 5, 2023
Las Vegas, NV →
Bishop, CA

Miles: 305

—

About three miles in the distance, we spot a huge dirt plume. It originates on the left side of the road then whiplashes to the right side. We’re accustomed to these airborne dust trails from off-road rigs traveling at speed in the sand. We just assume someone is messing around in the desert close to the road, in a region not sanctioned for recreation. This is ostensibly a highway leading to a mountain pass.

#56
October 7, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E25: Viva Las Vegas.

Day 25: Oct 4, 2023
Apple Valley, UT →
Las Vegas, NV

Miles: 148

—

Today’s 8:30 a.m. Zoom motivates us awake. I’m fortunate to be able to work from the road, though it does require some planning and commitment. Planning in being present with reliable cell service, and commitment in doing the work I’m paid to do and to execute well.

#55
October 5, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E24: And another one.

Day 24: Oct 3, 2023
Apple Valley, UT

Miles: 0

—

I awake after a restful slumber. The sleeping conditions were damn-near perfect: cool overnight temperatures and stillness in the air. We went to bed with a few options for the course of today, but it’s apparent to us we should settle in for an additional night.

#54
October 5, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E23: Mesa goodie.

Day 23: Oct 2, 2023
Cortez, CO →
Apple Valley, UT

Miles: 323

—

Thunderstorms roll in and out most of the night, and the morning is dark and moody. We all rise, and the dimmer lights come on, keeping a warm glow intact. Grant starts coffee, Jen straightens up our makeshift sleeping area, and I capture a few moments.

#53
October 4, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E22: Grantland.

Day 22: Oct 1, 2023
Del Norte, CO →
Cortez, CO

Miles: 175

—

As we suspect, the weather reports prove wildly inaccurate. At 8,000 feet, we’re subject to alpine weather rules. Meaning, isolated storms can cycle in at anytime, and they do. Lightning flashes, thunder cracks. We sleep in fits and starts. I remove the awning rod that keeps the tent flap open for ventilation. No sense having a literal lightning rod attached to the tent.

#52
October 4, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E21: Fear is the mind-killer.

Day 21: Sept 30, 2023
Comanche National Grassland, CO →
Del Norte, CO

Miles: 229

—

I open the tent flap and pop my head out. The view is indeed as impressive as the previous night’s moonlit scene hinted at. The mesa we’re camped on overlooks an expansive valley, and a glistening river snakes along the canyon floor.

#51
October 3, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E20: We’re not in Kansas anymore.

Day 20: Sept 29, 2023

Lee’s Summit, MO →
Comanche National Grassland, CO

Miles: 557

—

#50
October 2, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E19: Internet trail magic.

Day 19: Sept 28, 2023
St. Louis, MO →
Lee’s Summit, MO
Miles: 237

—

We pull into a driveway in a quiet and pristine neighborhood. Jen and I approach the house of people I’ve known for years, but only from the internet. This will be the first time meeting in person.

#49
October 1, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E18: Because the night belongs to us.

[Editor's note: This is a resend of the proper text that Jen edited. If you were curious about how much amazing work she does to whip my words into shape, please compare!]

Day 18: Sept 27, 2023
Belleville, IL

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#48
September 29, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E17: For our fathers.

Day 17: Sept 26, 2023
Belleville, IL

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Jen’s father, Michael Schuetz, passed away on Father’s Day, June 20, 2010. My father, Abdul Hamid Hussain, passed away on Father’s Day, June 18, 2017. It’s another occurrence of similarity and coincidence that feels cosmic to us.

#47
September 28, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E16: Eero Saarinen designed it.

Day 16: Sept 25, 2023
St. Louis, MO

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We visit this marvel almost every time we’re in the area. It’s always stunning.

#46
September 27, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E15: The zoo within the zoo.

Day 15: Sept 24, 2023
St. Louis, MO

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Blueprint Coffee is the OG third-wave coffee purveyor in St. Louis. We usually visit the Delmar venue, but with a new-to-us location nearby, we make that our destination. Housed in a former automotive brake service shop, this newer spot is airy, casual, and friendly.

#45
September 26, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E14: “I’m damn near eighty!”

Day 14: Sept 23, 2023
Belleville, IL

—

It’s been a number of years since we’ve attended a wedding.

In addition to seeing the immediate family, we’re invited to Jen’s cousin’s wedding, which by proxy includes spending time with extended family.

#44
September 26, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E13: A day with Kim and Kyle.

Day 13: Sept  22, 2023
St. Louis, MO

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My sister-in-law and new brother-in-law arrive at our Airbnb to spend a full day with us. Leading hectic lives, they both took time off from their respective jobs to chat, drink coffee, eat food, and mostly relax.

#43
September 25, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E12: Brewed and baked.

Day 12: Sept 21, 2023
St. Louis, MO

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I am predictable when visiting a reasonably sized city. I look for coffee, a juice / smoothie shop, a natural foods store, a sourdough bakery, and a decent restaurant that serves up clean and fresh fare or some local delicacy.

#42
September 25, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E11: Ditch walkin’

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Day 11: Sept 20, 2023
Maryville, IL →
St. Louis, MO
Mileage: 25

—

I hear footsteps and morning routines in motion. My sister-in-law and her family are gearing up for work and school. I remember this flurry of activity as a kid myself — the hustle to get motivated.

#41
September 22, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E10: Hello windiness, my old friend.

Day 10: Sept 19, 2023
Wilson, KS →
Maryville, IL
Mileage: 454

—

It isn’t the first time. In fact, this is the fourth occurrence. At twelve minutes past midnight, wide awake and with the tent swaying like a rough flight, we make the call. We move downstairs into the rig. The culprit is always our dear friend (or archnemesis, as is the case), the wind.

#40
September 21, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E9: We’re definitely in Kansas, Dorothy.

Day 9: Sept 18, 2023
Denver, CO →
Wilson, KS
Mileage: 370

—

One more person to see before we leave Colorado. Matt Jacobs is a longtime friend formerly of New York and Brooklyn, but now lives in Denver with his family. He’s another part of the bevy of people we know who’ve relocated to this great state.

#39
September 20, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E8: Transition.

Day 8: Sept 17, 2023
Boulder, CO & Denver, CO

—

It’s frigid. The first light is finally peaking over the mountains with a soft orange-pink glow. We packed up most everything last night since we anticipated a cold morning. I notice the roof top tent is crusted with frost. I suspect the forecast for 39ºF was not quite true, and once the rig is warming up, the onboard temperature reads 32ºF.

#38
September 18, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E7: Dave is a vibe.

Day 7: Sept 16, 2023
Longmont, CO, Gold Hill, Co, & Nederland, CO

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As promised, we meet up with Gino at his abode after we check out of the hotel. He offers some of his wife’s homemade gluten-free oat-zucchini-carrot-blueberry bread for us to snack on before departure. He hands us a walkie-talkie, and we make plans to tour some of the area’s finest points of interest from a 4x4 point of view.

#37
September 18, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E6: IRL

Day 6: Sept 15, 2023 Longmont, CO & Boulder, CO

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I’ve known Gino Zahnd via the internet for a long, long time now. We’ve never met in person, but our design and cycling circles overlap, and we share many mutual friends. We started chatting regularly during the pandemic, and I knew he was someone we absolutely had to meet on this trip.

#36
September 17, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E5: I’m sorry, Ms. Jackson.

Day 5: Sept 14, 2023
Vernal, UT →
Boulder, CO
Mileage: 325

—

“But you can't predict the weather, Ms. Jackson.” — Ms. Jackson, Outkast

#35
September 16, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E4: There’s a Banksy in Park City, Utah.

Day 4: Sept 13, 2023
Ophir, UT →
Vernal, UT
Mileage: 223

—

Yesterday’s overstimulation resonates throughout the night, so neither of us sleep well. A truck with an RV trailer shows up at 2:30 a.m. While they are on the other end of the campground, there’s enough noise to make me poke my head out of the tent. Given we’re alone and in entirely new surroundings, safety becomes top of mind. Thankfully, it’s just campers leveling their trailer.

#34
September 14, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E3: This will do.

Day 3: Sept 12, 2023
Lamoille Canyon, NV →
Ophir Canyon, UT
Mileage: 286

—

The first in a series of today’s “mishaps” begins this morning. Barb, our four-pound Chihuahua, starts to whine inside our tent. We’re both occupied and can’t tend to her immediately, so by the time I get to her, I find that she’s already relieved herself. Her tiny body has a big bladder.

#32
September 13, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E2: Familiar is friendly

Day 2: Sept 11, 2023
Tahoe National Forest, CA → Lamoille Canyon, NV
Mileage: 356

—

The dulcet tones of a calm lake lapping at a shoreline finally awaken me.

#31
September 12, 2023
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Weightshifting S2E1: Liquid Gold

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Hi, this is Weightshifting, a newsletter by Naz Hamid and Jen Schuetz, primarily about vehicular travel and exploring the American West.

This is season 2, en route from San Francisco to St. Louis. Our primary reason is to visit Jen’s family and attend a wedding. Our secondary reason is to do our now-annual fall trip, with the hope of catching the seasonal transition upon our return.

For those who signed up recently after I put the word out on Mastodon and Instagram, we’re glad you’re here. Onwards.

#30
September 11, 2023
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Weightshifting: An audio-visual document


It’s been a while! If you don’t remember, you signed up for Weightshifting, an email newsletter originally conceived as design and travel notes from the field, which then morphed into vehicular travel from the field. Your writer is me, Naz, with copywriting and editing from my wife, Jen, and with photos from both of us.

I’m re-igniting the newsletter with this special edition.

Last summer, we took several trips, and during our big summer trip to Colorado, I filmed a lot of it with the intention of producing YouTube videos or maybe Reels, or something similar. Looking back, I realize how much I wished I had also captured supplementary storytelling, but it dawned on me how nice it was to have those moments captured in moving pictures.

#29
June 19, 2023
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S1E7: On a Low and a High.

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A few days separate us from our time at Canyon of the Ancients and our last camp from this fall trip. After a mangled tale of an ER (mis)visit and a return for refuge at Sage Canyon (this time camping just outside the Workshop Loft — thank you, Grant, for the use of your bathroom and heated towel rack), we depart the southwestern corner of Colorado and back through the Four Corners, venturing through Utah.

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We start our path home, originally planning a break in St. George. A convenient stopover for extended road trips, we used this city over the summer to serve as a respite from the oppressive heat. Hotels are plentiful along this stretch, so acquiring a pet-friendly room with a king-size bed and air conditioning is effortless. However, now in early October, the temperatures are nearly perfect, so spending money on a hotel didn’t align with the spirit of overlanding.

Instead, we go off-road into the area between Apple Valley and Rockville. Gooseberry Mesa is the objective, a point of interest we had pinned after scoping out Smithsonian Butte. Our decision to change course presents us with the camping trifecta: temperate weather with no wind, a beautiful landscape, and a private campsite camouflaged by plenty of vegetation.

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A number of dispersed sites with fire rings are nestled around the main trailhead; this area is popular for campers, hikers, and mountain bikers. We claim a lovely spot right at the edge of the mesa overlooking Apple Valley. We can’t see our neighbors, but their subdued voices carry. They had just returned from what was surely an epic bike ride and were unwinding in front of their Sprinter van and truck.

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Jen and I execute our now-familiar routine: level the rig, unpack sleeping accommodations, set up living space, settle the dog, scope out bathroom proximity, and prep dinner before the sun disappears and the light fades to ink.

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It’s a primal feeling to live this way — a reminder of the raw rhythm of life that modern living turns on its head. Having electricity and lights and gadgets disrupts the natural balance and compels us to consume everything, schedule more tasks, and never relent. Out here, you tap into instinct and the survival programming that’s hardwired into our genes from long, long ago.

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Tonight’s meal is yuba noodles and sausage. Jen arranges our camp chairs on the mesa’s rock edge. We watch the sun set as it casts its life-giving glow into the valley, reflecting off the rocks and terrain. The last hurrah for this day.

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Clean-up commences. We discuss a game plan for tomorrow and the subsequent journey home, and we settle into the tent upstairs. Since cell service is often unreliable or completely nonexistent, the evening ritual consists of Kindle reading or downloaded content on our iPad. Most nights are early nights as we attempt to realign with our intended circadian cadence.

The quiet is stunning and even deafening — just the sound of your environment and sometimes casual voices or laughter of a neighbor. How strange to think that garbage trucks and sirens and drunken bar patrons are our normal cohabitants, but the symphony of insects and birds and gentle wind is considered unnatural.


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I awaken early the next day. Jen and Barb are snuggled up under all the puffy sleeping accoutrement, and I unzip the tent on my side and make my way down the ladder. A longer drive awaits us today through Las Vegas and into LA. I have to post up at a coffeeshop in Las Vegas to take a video meeting while Jen anticipates a medical appointment in LA.

Colors change rapidly at first light. Navy and misty blue fill the skies, with the first evidence of the sun peeking over the mountains in the distance. I set up the kitchen, and suddenly my world is red and orange. I get coffee going for Jen and tea for myself.

I do a perimeter walk as the water boils, and the light is ever-changing. My camera is with me and moments are captured, relished.

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The promise of hot coffee rouses Jen, and this morning, like almost every morning on the road, is punctuated with contemplative and deliberate movements.

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We eschew a hot breakfast, opting for energy bars and a jumpstart to a long day behind the wheel. Our teardown of camp has become speedy due to repetition, so the rig is soon repacked and ready. We drive out of the area slowly, navigating the contours of the road, and taking in our last sights of wilderness. Knowing this trip has come to its close as we return to business and life maintenance imparts a tinge of sadness. However, whatever heartache we feel is quickly replaced by anticipation for the next adventure.

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We recognize that our experiences are special. I wish for others to feel what I have felt, to see what I have seen, and to know what I now know.

I hope this retelling can offer you that.

#28
April 14, 2022
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S1E6: Tracks of the Ancients.

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I notice the tracks as I return from a brief scouting trip. When deciding on a campsite for the night, reconnaissance is necessary: one, to verify personal safety; two, to ensure picturesque views and surroundings, but distance between neighbors (if applicable); and three, to establish an ideal bathroom situation. (Leave no trace, please.)

This particular survey satisfies one and three — I was returning from a number one break after the drive from Alta Lakes and Telluride when something catches my eye.

The “something” in this instance are animal tracks that run parallel to the dirt road we drove in on. I study them. There are multiple. Hooves and paws are apparent. Cattle makes sense. Horses, too. We know from Grant’s place in Sage Canyon that mountain lions have been recorded on their webcams up on the mesa property. And here we are on top of a mesa. A quick Google search suggests the paw prints could belong to mountain lions, and I’m relatively certain they are not bear tracks.

#27
February 5, 2022
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S1E5: Pound, rub, pound.

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It’s something like midnight. A four-and-a-half-pound senior Chihuahua is tucked into her blanket and snuggled up next to my left rib cage inside my sleeping bag. Jen is asleep beside us.

It’s 35°F.

We have myriad layers happening: Jen wears a down jacket inside her sleeping bag with a puffy blanket on top. I’m in a similar arrangement, sans the jacket, opting for a merino long-sleeve base layer. I sleep hot. Last but not least, Grant kindly lends us a giant thrifted wool blanket. He also acquaints us with a cold weather–camping hack: fill a stainless steel Kleen Kanteen water bottle with boiling water, wrap it in a towel, and place it at the foot of your sleeping bag. Jen and her typically cold feet are happy to indulge in this revelation. (For the record, that water bottle was still warm the following morning.)

#26
November 11, 2021
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S1E4: 11,218 feet.

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We roll into Rico, Colorado, parking in front of the local post office. It’s rustic. Cute. Mountain-town vibes are abundant. Like a peacock, the foliage on the drive from Cortez is in full plumage. During the drive, neither Jen nor I, and even Grant, can’t not marvel at the beauty that accompanied us during the drive here.

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Rico is a pitstop, just over an hour from Cortez. It’s a popular stop outside Telluride, the idyllic town set against the San Juan Mountains. It’s in this range that we find camp for the night.

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Fireweed Cafe is a lovely little bakery, mercantile, and drinks shop, where smoothies named after Hawaiian locations and delicious homemade pastries with thoughtful ingredient lists (read: healthy) find their way into our bellies. We stretch the legs with a quick jaunt along the main drag. Rico is home to 265 people as per the 2010 census, and it feels that way. It is absolutely charming, like all mountain towns are.

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Our rough destination is a dispersed spot in the San Juan National Forest above Trout Lake. We get back in our respective rigs, and we double-back a short distance to the only gas station in town. Predictably, premium gas isn’t available, which is what Viv (our rig) requires. A Google Maps search reveals that we have to head to a Conoco on the perimeter of Telluride, which is just under a half hour away.

Jen and I made this drive before back in July, and it was beautiful then. But fall takes it to another level. In the summer, it boasts lots of green. In the fall, it’s positively electrifying!

As we crest one of the last rises on the way to the Conoco, I see a sign that says “Alta Lakes” that departs pavement and leads onto a dirt road into the San Juans. I make a mental note.

Gassed up and ready to roll, Grant and I confer.

“Did you see that Alta Lakes sign?”

“Yep.”

“Let’s look at Gaia.”

Gaia GPS is an essential tool for hikers/overlanders/campers and anyone with an interest in mapping and the outdoors. It’s an app (available on all platforms) that tracks your GPS data, records waypoints you designate, but most importantly, provides a map with layers (many, many layers) that you toggle on and off, with opacity adjustments to reveal all kinds of useful information. I’ll save a deeper dive into Gaia GPS for another time.

With Gaia opened on my phone, we consult the base topographical map, with the USFS (Forest Service), the Public Lands, and the MVUM (motor vehicle use map) layers all toggled on. This gives us essential information: how far can we go with our rigs, how high the elevation will be, how big and how many lakes there are, and camp possibilities.

It looks promising.

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We pass a few other SUVs, trucks, and adventure-ready mobiles as we start the rocky dirt climb upwards. Like any good trail, it’s mostly one-way with the occasional section wide enough for someone to pass if needed. Uphill vehicles have the right of way, and we see good etiquette on the road as we wind our way. Friendly waves and stunning sights greet us around every curve and switchback.

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We encounter some excellent camp spots, unfortunately claimed and occupied. As we continue, a clearing opens up to reveal a few abandoned and dilapidated structures. We’re rolling through Alta, one of Colorado’s prevalent mining ghost towns, which is on the National Register of Historic Places. Active between 1877–1948, the town is famous for being the first to use Nikola Tesla’s AC transmission system. Most towns used coal as you’d suspect, but Alta used electricity. Wild, indeed.

We keep moving toward the lakes, and along the way, we mentally note a few possible places to set up our rigs.

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We reach the lakes, and a fork in the road greets us. A sign is marked with a camping symbol to the left and a no-camping symbol to the right. We take the left and discover first-come, first-served designated dispersed sites all along the road and edge of the lake. A smart move on the part of the Forest Service and common in places with potentially heavy traffic. By creating official sites, the impact is lessened on the area.

We do a little half-loop on the camping-allowed side, investigating potential accommodations for the night. A would-be spot is occupied by a large pool of water, rendering it inhospitable. The weather has started to shift, and a misty rain has begun.

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The lakeside sites look glorious but cramped, and it feels foreign to settle close to strangers after a year-and-a-half of distancing. Besides, a blanket of trees only moments away offers peace and privacy. We turn around and head to a spot we saw right before our diversion to the lakes.

We begin to position the rigs and level out. This is typically done with rocks found in the area, placed under the tire(s) — some rigs have built-in levelers, others mod theirs by adding level bubbles. I prefer the handy level feature in the Measure app on the iPhone. I do this side-to-side and fore-and-aft.

Raindrops start to fall. The weather is here at 11,218 feet.

I start to make tea for everyone. Grant helps me assemble a makeshift shelter from a tent ground cloth and some poles I borrowed from our friend Tyler. As we stand around and sip our warm beverages, I survey our surroundings. Two other spots are in this area, marked by fire rings — I don’t know why I didn’t notice earlier. The privacy is a bit lacking, should someone roll up later in the evening. A small double-track road heads up just next to us, prompting my curiosity.

Grant and I walk up together to scope it out. Always in pursuit of that perfect spot.

We find a smaller camp site tucked away, with more tree coverage, a fire ring, and more importantly, privacy. No one else can invade this space. We make a decision.

When we get back down, Jen states, “Let me guess, we’re moving.”

zing

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We quickly do a messy pack-up and drive our vehicles up. Then the song and dance of arranging our belongings commences again. The light is waning, our bellies are becoming vocal, and our sleeping quarters need to be readied.

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The rain starts to fall heavier this time as we tuck under the trees. We ignite a fire, which seems luxurious given the accustomed restrictions in California. I start dinner, and we settle in for the evening.

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#25
October 22, 2021
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S1E3: There’s a Tarantula In Our Room.

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“Err, I just saw a head poke out.”

“What?”

“I think there’s a rat or mouse in our room.”

#24
October 5, 2021
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S1E2: The Dark is Dubious.

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We find ourselves sitting by a heated pool in autumn temperatures at 7,200 feet. Santa Fe has been home for two nights, where we luxuriated in a king-size bed with our own pillows (we don’t leave home without them).

How We Got Here

Since the last missive, we parted ways with friends Mandy and Tyler and their two dogs after a lovely shared night and next morning in Bishop, California.

#23
October 1, 2021
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S1E1: Ernie Is Our Co-Pilot.

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Hello. You’re receiving this long-dormant-now-re-reawakaned newsletter because at some point in the past you subscribed. (Thank you, by the way.) Back then, I was writing about some nexus of travels abroad, personal or professional news, and technology-ish topics.

There are some changes afoot, which this issue kickstarts.


I often percolate on how best to use an avenue. I started this newsletter on Tinyletter as a way to write quick thoughts about what I was experiencing many years ago during trips to Malaysia to visit my family. It was a way to blog without too much fuss.

As has now been written copiously everywhere, the pandemic has led to reflection and, in some cases, clarity. I stew on these things much longer than I used to, and I have now manifested a clearer purpose to this newsletter, which I’ve long loved but neglected in ways.

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Since January, my wife Jen and I have been outfitting an (dare I say it) overlanding rig. A truck…-ish. A softcore Mad Max-ian rig that will take us on the Fury Road into the halls of Valhalla. Or really just remote places that allow us to be away from crowds and people (Anti-Social Distancing Distancing Club) and to experience this land that we live on in ways many do not. To be self-supported and off-the-grid. To enable the once every-six-weeks trip-by-plane that we were accustomed to that allowed us to explore, rejuvenate, be inspired, and reset.

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We’ve gone on a few trips now. Each one has been longer than the last — 11 days was the longest, which concluded at the beginning of August. I’m writing to you from our second day in the Sierra Nevada in California, sitting under a tree, mobile hotspotting off my phone, 6664 feet above sea level, watching a haze settle over the valley we look onto, with Highway 395 below, growing murkier as each minute passes. (If you didn’t already know, California has been on fire.)

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We sync up with friends at camp today and vacate tomorrow. We travel eastward on what will be 3-4 weeks on the road as we explore backroads, 4x4 trails, and some of the great mountainous states, hoping to catch the glorious colors of fall and take in a little adventure.

I’m also working from the road — my two main duties (consulting creative director for a VC firm and all things design for a stealth app startup) continue apace — to experiment a way of life I’ve long wanted to try.

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Over the next few weeks and beyond, expect photos from the road, notes from the field, travel insights, and occasional gear nerdery.

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Questions, replies, and feedback are always welcome. I’m excited for this endeavor and hope you will be too.

Cheers and thanks for following along,

Naz.

P.S. Why the title?

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#22
September 25, 2021
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