Where I've Been - Part 2

It wasn't enough to quit my job and skip town. The change my life was craving needed to be bigger than that. (In case you missed that story, PART 1 is linked HERE.)

I wanted to be on my own in a way that I never had. I wanted a whole new world, surrounded by nature, where I could concentrate on my writing, healing, understanding who I was, and unlearning the ways I'd been taught to think and live.

After some false starts in Oregon and Montana, a new place fell in my lap -- on a working cattle ranch in high desert of Colorado -- and I couldn't have been happier.

I packed up the cats and everything I owned and drove across the country. The excitement carried me most of the way that first day. I've always hated driving big trucks, but within an hour or so I had the hang of it, bouncing around in the cushy seat with the radio full blast.

It was the end of March, so the weather hadn't been much of a consideration. As an Ohio boy, that's when things typically start thawing out and warming up, but at the base of the Rocky Mountains, on the west side of Kansas, an entirely different set of circumstances were playing out and my drive came to a screeching halt.

The highway had been closed for some reason. With my phone partially working, I re-routed and found a back way around the closure. At the time, there were only a few flakes in the sky. It wasn't until I was locked in a pack of cars on the peaks and valleys of a one lane road, that the heavy stuff started coming in sideways.

The blizzard kept the little cars stuck climbing up the hills, which we would then have to get out and push. Anyone trying to turn around found their tires spinning, with big ditches on either side of the road. When my own truck got stuck, with my entire life in the back, I thought I would surely freeze and die there. The truck was too heavy to push, and as much as I tried pumping the gas and turning the wheel, it wasn't moving an inch. The line of cars ahead of me had already disappeared in the whiteout.

So I took a deep breath, slowly and carefully backed up about three feet, and tried again. Thankfully, the tires gripped and pulled me over the spot where I'd been stuck, allowing me to continue on. I'm not sure I've ever been quite that scared. Maybe only a few times in my life.

The danger wasn't over, unfortunately. The semis on those mountain highways do NOT check when they pull onto the road and I had a couple of close calls. As I got closer to the high desert, climbing up to nearly 10,000 feet, before settling down to a meager 5,500, the entire ecosystem changed. The roads were pitch black. There was no city light. Only the Milky Way banded through the sky.

It was best to go slow. Wildlife was everywhere. A massive elk stood and watched as I passed, as if he was a guardian of the forest, welcoming me in. It wasn't until morning that I got a look at the mountains I'd driven through and those surrounding the home I'd be spending the next year in. I was in awe.

To have those views right outside my window was everything I'd hoped for. To be able to step outside and be in nature. A river just yards from the house. Wildlife in every direction. A bald eagle's nest a half mile away. An array of desert birds, deer, turkeys, elk, bats, foxes, coyotes, wild horses, beavers, and my favorite -- the prairie dogs.

I won't go into too much detail, because I cover a lot of this journey and my adventures there in my new book, EVERYTHING IS BRIGHTER NOW, which you can Pre-Order HERE!

I travelled all over the southwest. Utah, Arizona, New Mexico. It was truly an amazing opportunity. It seemed everywhere I went I was getting stuck in some kind of snow storm, and there was the time I nearly drowned kayaking by myself. Let's just say, a lot of lessons were learned. If you want those full stories, including a really spooky encounter on sacred Navajo land, DEFINITELY pick up my new book.

The change I wanted in my life was more than just nature, hiking and kayaking. It was about changing the way I lived. The house was remote so I had to be strategic about when and where I got my groceries. My morning routine was new -- early stretching and meditation before coffee and writing. I was up earlier with more energy than I had ever been working the job I hated for so many years, depending on myself and only myself to make my life what I wanted it to be. It felt like a true awakening in so many ways.

Not everything in Colorado was a silky-smooth dream, but I did write the drafts of two novels, (which have since been released -- Dahmerville and Absent Stars), and got more adventure than I had planned for. I still find myself dreaming about the desert. And in no way have I ever regretted taking that detour. My life had grown stale. I resented almost everything about it. A fresh start was what I wanted.

Sadly, I lost two people very close to me while I was away. From that, a new opportunity came to return to the place I was born and go deeper with some of the healing I'd started to work on. Generational trauma, passed down through the years. It was such a unique chance, I felt I couldn't say no -- restoring my family home, which had been left to deteriorate for years.

After my surreal experience at Monument Valley and a very strange coincidence there, I knew it was time, once again, to pack it all up and head back east. From the Rockies to the Appalachians.

To be continued in Part 3...

Thanks for reading, and be on the lookout for teasers and poems from EVERYTHING IS BRIGHTER NOW -- Book 2 of my Burning Insight Series -- Coming November 4th, 2025!