Distance, desert, beach, ocean, mountains.
We’ve been away from home since the first week of December.
We’ve made an annual tradition of driving from Denver to San Diego sometime at the end of the year — last year it was for Thanksgiving, the year before it was for Christmas. This year, the timing of our San Diego trip revolved around a holiday party in Phoenix. And since we were already on the road, why not Crested Butte too?
We drove 2722 miles to get here. Actually, I drove 2722 miles — R had last-minute retina surgery the week of Thanksgiving, so him driving wasn’t in anyone’s best interest.
I’ve learned a lot in 2722 miles and 2.5 weeks. Oh no, it’s another post about sharing things I learned (or re-learned)!
I can do anything, and it’s even easier when it’s enjoyable
For one, I proved to myself that I am capable of anything. Thirteen hours from Denver to Phoenix, with a 3am wakeup, is not for the faint of heart. But for two, it wasn’t that bad because I love spending time with my husband and doggo, even if it’s just sitting in a car staring at the road, singing along to whatever was on the radio, and asking each other random questions as they popped into our brains. This next thing shouldn’t be surprising: quality time is my top love language.
Novelty really works my brain, especially when I’m driving
Any time I had to navigate a neighborhood or parking lot I’ve never driven through, your girl was STRESSED. I don’t know what it is about the last 50 feet of finding a place — despite Google Maps loudly announcing “turn right, and your destination is on the left” — that makes me lose all sense of direction. The number of times I yelled something like “This right?? THIS ONE??” in panic on this trip… Same with finding a parking spot. It’s like my brain sees the empty spots a half second too late. But I managed. Because, again, I can do anything. Even if it takes me longer. Even if I park crooked. Even if I have to get out and re-park while pretending no one saw.
Routine keeps me grounded
I (re-)learned that I need some sense of routine. I’m not a super regimented person, but there are certain routines I have at home that get lost when I travel. So I often start a new routine, just to give my days some semblance of grounding and structure. I know some people use exercise as their routine — thus the existence of hotel gyms — but I am not one of those people. I’m more of a “routinely support a local business” kind of gal, so my go-to is a daily visit to the local coffee shop. Our routines were Peixoto in downtown Chandler, Coffee Cycle in Ocean Beach, and Camp 4 Coffee in Crested Butte (Rumors is a close second).
Familiar scents comfort me (maybe I was a doggo in a past life)
Routine and familiarity go hand in hand, and as it turns out, familiar smells are really important to me. I usually just live with the hotel shampoo and soap. This was fine in Chandler. But when we got to San Diego, I HATED the smell of the shampoo at our rental, and certainly couldn’t live with it for a week. I figured if I needed to buy shampoo and wasn’t restricted to travel-size, might as well splurge and buy what we use at home. And let me tell you: the first shower with familiar scents made me feel like a brand new person. It wasn’t just comfort—it was familiarity. It made me feel like myself again.
As much as I like to travel, I get homesick
The two-week mark is when I really start to miss home. My bed, my pillows, my shower, my cookware, my smells… As much as I dream of a digital nomad lifestyle, I’ve learned that I need a base that feels truly like home where I can reset for a bit.
The ocean is a healing force
If you’ve been following along, I’ve had a pretty good year, all things considered. There wasn’t much I had to “fix” or release, but damn the ocean washing over my feet fixed everything in that moment. There’s something about any body of water that is reenergizing, but the ocean in particular calms me deep in my soul. The salty air, the range of blue-green hues, the sounds of crashing and gushing water, the bubbling sea foam, the predictable unpredictability of the waves — it all washes away any bad vibes. Add a bouncing Kona-pup romping around on the sand, and every day at the beach was bliss. The drive to Dog Beach in San Diego was worth every minute.
Cooking on a trip is a stretch
It isn’t that I dislike cooking, or that I don’t want to do it when I could be exploring new places instead, but the mental load and limited resources make it so hard to cook! If we’re driving to our destination, we pack a kitchen knife and small cutting board in the event we want/need to cook. This is because the knives at the rental will be dull af (I have experienced this 100% of the time). But we sometimes don’t end up needing those things at all. Figuring out what to make with a limited or nonexistent pantry is a chore. Going grocery shopping is a chore. Cooking in an unfamiliar kitchen, with pots and pans that are damaged to hell, is — you guessed it — a chore. I did manage to make eggs for breakfast every morning in San Diego though! And so far, I’ve made pancakes and chili (not together) in Crested Butte. If anyone has meal suggestions, I would love to hear them.
I’m sure there are more lessons learned, but I’ve been too busy driving to write them all down.
Happy holidays to you and yours, and I’ll catch you all in 2026!
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