How It All Began

I'd originally planned to do this trip with a girl that I was seeing, but we had abruptly ended things. But I’d already booked the van, so I wasn’t willing to let the plans fall through. I tossed a Hail Mary on Instagram, hoping someone might join me. Several people responded, but I could tell only one was all-in on such short notice: my boy CJ.

CJ and I go back seven years, meeting as coworkers at a startup in San Francisco in early 2014. Despite my move to New York in 2017, CJ and I kept in touch, catching up in person whenever I was back in town.

What I love about friendships like ours is how they transcend time and distance. You might not talk for a year, but when you reconnect, it's like no time has passed at all. Zero lag, as CJ put it.

The Journey Begins

We started in Salt Lake City, Utah, rented a camper van, and embarked on a five-day journey that would end in Las Vegas. Our chariot for the trip was what Native Camper Vans calls "The Biggie"—a van that seats three and sleeps two "semi-comfortably," depending on your height.

It came fully equipped with everything we needed: a propane stove, sink, cups, plates, utensils, mini-fridge, storage space, LED lights, electrical outlets, and camping chairs with a table. At $1,300 for five days, it wasn't cheap, but the comfort and convenience were worth it.

The Route

Our journey took us through some of Utah's most stunning landscapes:

1. We spent our first night in Moab at a campsite
2. Explored Arches National Park
3. Saw Canyonlands
4. Camped in Capitol Reef
5. Spent a couple of days in Zion
6. Ended at Lake Mead before reaching Las Vegas

Angels Landing: Worth the Struggle

Zion National Park was the highlight for both of us, particularly the Angels Landing hike. Getting permits was an adventure in itself—at 5 PM each day, a mad dash ensues as everyone in the park crowds around the one spot with reliable Wi-Fi, frantically trying to secure tram tickets for the next morning.

I managed to get a ticket, but CJ wasn't so lucky. Rather than splitting up, CJ decided to try his luck on the morning of our hike. In a stroke of good fortune, there was a single ticket available. As CJ told it, "It pays to show up."

Angels Landing itself is a breathtaking (and sometimes terrifying) experience. There are parts where you're literally holding onto a metal chain that serves as your lifeline, with precipitous drops on either side. A sign at both the bottom and top of the trail grimly tallies the number of people who have died over the years. We passed little kids on leashes and elderly hikers struggling to navigate the narrow paths. Thankfully, everyone made it safely—no helicopter rescues required on our watch.

Unexpected Connections

One of the most memorable aspects of our trip wasn't the natural wonders—it was the people we met along the way. Our favorite night was at the campsite before Zion, where we met llama-farming, milk-chugging pastors from Georgia who had started a "nationally recognized milk chugging league."

In an era of masks and social distancing, there was something refreshing about meeting strangers around a campfire and forming an instant bond. These guys were a blast—so much so that I still follow their milk-chugging antics on Instagram. Their marketing for it is hilarious, complete with champagne flutes filled with chocolate milk and dramatic announcements. You can't make this stuff up.

We also met a retired couple from South Dakota who lived full-time in their RV, traveling wherever their hearts desired. It offered a glimpse into a lifestyle so different from our own—the freedom of the open road as a permanent way of life.

The Joy of Disconnection

Perhaps the most valuable aspect of our trip was the disconnection. In Utah's national parks, cell service is virtually non-existent. Once you're out there, you're truly on your own—which can be both terrifying and liberating.

This disconnection forced us into deep conversation. Over the 15-20 hours of drive time and 800-900 miles covered, CJ and I discussed everything under the sun. When you're stuck in a van together without distractions, you have the luxury of time to fully explore ideas, challenge each other's logic, and see things from different perspectives.

CJ noted that most conversations are just people presenting their viewpoints without truly listening or considering new ideas. But when you have four hours of drive time ahead, there's no reason not to stretch a topic, examine it from different angles, and truly engage.

Stargazing and Cow Patties

Our night at Capitol Reef was my favorite campsite experience. We were completely alone in a desolate field, with no cell service and not another soul for miles. There's a certain thrill in that isolation—knowing that if something goes wrong, you're on your own.

That night, we cooked a delicious taco dinner, drank wine, and looked up at a sky free from light pollution. Until you've seen the night sky in a place like Utah, you have no idea what's really up there. The Milky Way stretched across the darkness in a way that photographs can never truly capture.

Oh, and we learned that Louis L'Amour's westerns were accurate about one thing: cow patties make excellent fire starter. The field was dotted with them, and they helped us build our best campfire of the entire trip.

Looking Back

This journey wasn't about checking items off a list or posting the perfect Instagram photo (though we did get some great shots). It was about slowing down, connecting—with nature, with each other, and with strangers who became friends for a night.

There were things I wish we'd done differently. I'd packed my journal and a book but never found time to use either. The lifestyle didn't allow for much alone time—we were always traveling or exploring. And if I were to do it again, I might position the mattress lengthwise for a more comfortable night's sleep.

But these are minor quibbles in what was an unforgettable adventure. The camper van lifestyle isn't for everyone, and I'm not sure I could sustain it for more than a year. But for five days, it was perfect—a reminder that sometimes the best experiences come from stepping outside your comfort zone and saying yes to unexpected opportunities.

As I look ahead to future adventures (Costa Rica is calling), I'm grateful for the memories made on those dusty Utah roads. For the moments of awe at Angels Landing, for tacos under the stars at Capitol Reef, for deep conversations with an old friend, and for the laughter shared with milk-chugging pastors from Georgia.

Sometimes, the best journeys are the ones we never planned to take.