Story: Natural Therapy

A couple of years ago I was twenty-three. Life had not panned out quite the way I had expected when a series of events compounded by a broken relationship left me a bit disoriented. Instead of circling in an aimless daze I coordinated my heartache with the highway and gently set my tires on the open road.

Equipped with a daypack, a zero-degree sleeping bag, some Chaco’s and an Emmylou Harris record, I left my parents’ place in Texas and pointed my compass West. Driving into the dusty terrain of New Mexico and up and through the rocky mountain ranges of Colorado I eventually landed my Xterra in a Tinseltown parking lot for a good night of rest.

Seeing as the front seat of any vehicle is not an optimal sleeping venue I was unusually eager to see the day, witnessing my voyage’s first sunrise as the rays spilled the morning over the exquisite sandstone formations of Colorado Springs’ Garden of the Gods National Landmark. After an all-day hike against Pike’s Peak imposing backdrop I set up camp in Thermopolis, Wyoming, quaintly defined by it’s restorative “World’s Largest Hot Spring” and the smell this monument expels.

Moving westward for the morning I stopped to rest in Buffalo Bill’s historic treasure, Cody, WY (pop. 9,000,) where I tasted my first bison burger at the world-famous Irma Hotel, sauntered through its’ old-fashioned downtown and absorbed as much authentic western culture I could muster from willing locals and friendly travelers. As the sun began slipping behind the dusty horizon I drove the scenic stretch President Theodore Roosevelt called “the most beautiful fifty miles in the United States” - from Cody to Yellowstone National Park’s East entrance, inaugurating a summer I would never forget.

Over the next few months I traded my wheels and trunk for sandals and a backpack and learned the art of being wildly alive. I explored Yellowstone’s backcountry filled with mysterious natural wonders and magnificent wildlife, ran with wild mustangs in the Bighorn Basin of Montana, waded beside moose in the Shoshone River’s insanely clear mountain water, witnessed elk bugling in the brilliant Wyoming autumn, hiked twenty miles up Grand Teton’s majestic Cascade Canyon (in knee-deep snow!) and discovered hypothermia.

Oh it wasn’t perfect. Days of intense loneliness, lost trails, a terrible stomach virus and less than desirable living conditions all added to the mix. But in an effort to find what is real, I exchanged my itinerary of expectation for the pages of real life and found a way to root myself in the portions of my days that matter.

I’m still not sure if I discovered Wyoming or if Wyoming discovered me. For those affected by the chaos of twenty-first century living getting alone in Mother Nature can provide the necessary reprieve. And for those diagnosed with the hurt of heartache, just find an open road headed west - and take it slow.