Tiny Hiker, Big Views – Where Silence Heals, Moab, Utah
I find my spot for the night, right next to the Colorado River. I sit and listen to the silence of nature. I feel at home. As I climb into my tiny bed, it feels like I have never left it.
Even my optimistic heart sometimes lets sadness creep in…
I am not even sure of the reason for it. I just finished organizing my home (my minivan), and tomorrow I will be heading out to the open road. I am truly so excited!
My wandering heart might need to be completely surrounded and embraced by nature to understand my emotions.
As the stunning snowy mountains of Colorado accompany part of my drive, they help me melt into myself. I let the magical freedom in my heart ease the heaviness inside.
With hours of driving ahead of me, I continue my studies of Buddhist philosophy with Pema Chödrön (there are many free recordings of her teachings on Hoopla) and begin to recognize the source of the sadness that has been quietly settling in my heart for a while now.
I feel sad to witness the world losing its grip on what kindness and peace really mean. And yet, the past few years on the open road have only confirmed my deep belief in the goodness of people. Again and again, I get to witness the beauty of humankind.
I truly believe that we all have equal rights to happiness. It breaks my heart to see so much suffering in today’s world.
If in the past I thought I was just a tiny speck who could not make a difference. Today I know that if each of us lives life with an open and kind heart, we can create what is naturally ours—a peaceful world. After all, we are all born with a kind heart and a sweet, loving soul.
After almost six hours of driving, I entered scenic Route 128 in Utah. The snowy tip of the La Sal Mountains is a gorgeous contrast to the bare landscape around me.
I find my spot for the night, right next to the Colorado River. I sit and listen to the silence of nature. I feel at home. As I climb into my tiny bed, it feels like I have never left it.
Sweet dreams…
Good morning, beautiful day!
It is a very chilly morning. I am still wearing my winter coat and gloves as I start my hike to Fisher Towers. I love the feeling of being so tiny around those giant rock sculptures. In a way, they make me feel like a giant myself.
I love the texture around me. It feels like every gust of wind left her own story here, embedded for ages to tell their tale. The light and shadow play peekaboo with each other, adding another dimensional effect to this magical place.
I am far from being a fan of ladders on a hike. My fear of heights still lives with me, even after all the challenging hikes I conquered in the past.
Two young ladies are just behind me. I welcome their confidence to ease my fear. Courtney and Braydee are from Salt Lake City.
So, yes, you know the rest. :) A beautiful conversation and a joint hike to the viewpoint and back emerge. Both Courtney and Braydee are nurses working in women's health. We all agree on the importance of self-care.
I know I need to ease myself back into hiking, as in the past few months, I have had to refrain from heavy physical activity while I heal from my skiing injury.
The 4-plus-mile hike to Fisher Towers is moderate. I am trying to keep my daily hikes at a maximum of 8 miles, knowing from the past that days of long hikes will catch up with me at one point.
My next hike is to Morning Glory Bridge on the Grandstaff Trail, which is another 4-plus-mile hike, which is moderate as well. (AllTrails considers it hard.)
I enjoy the sound of the stream along the trail, and the fun puzzle of crossing it as the path intertwines with it. At the end of the trail, Morning Glory Bridge appears in its glory and provides much-needed shade from the hot sun. I love the rich and bold black color on the massive rock formations. The presence of water in this desert offers a beautiful contrast.
When I checked the map before I left for a place for the night, I remembered a rest area just 20 minutes south of Moab, which is a perfect place to call home for tonight.
The night air is crisp, and the stars are beginning to appear one by one above the desert sky. I sit quietly, wrapped in a blanket, grateful for the people I met today, the landscapes that held me, and the strength returning to my body. This journey is not about reaching a destination—it is about remembering who I am along the way.
