day 2—arch-itecture at its finest

We woke up at Big Bend Campground, tucked beside the Colorado River, just off the highway and eight miles from Moab. The first light of morning gently filtered into the van, but we lingered under the covers, savoring the warmth and the peaceful rest that still lingered in our bones.

Ah, the first morning of our new life, I thought, lying in silence, basking in the calm.

Eventually, I wiggled to the edge of the bed and carefully climbed down. At 5’4”, with a 3-foot drop, it wasn’t the most graceful maneuver, but I managed without incident.

Trent effortlessly followed, his 6’4” frame making it appear effortless. Right behind him, the pitter-patter of four eager paws echoed—Charlie, eagerly ready to greet the day.

As we slid open the door, we were greeted by an unsettling silence. There was no hum of engines, no chatter of strangers, and no unidentifiable city smells. Instead, we were enveloped by a refreshing, crisp air, accompanied only by the rhythmic sound of our own breathing.

The familiar mesas rose in the distance as Charlie eagerly sniffed the ground, her tail wagging in excitement.

We exchanged a glance—giddy, hopeful, and a bit uncertain. That’s the beauty of freedom: no one dictates our actions. Until now, our days were governed by routines and obligations.

“Should we make coffee?” I asked, breaking the moment. Trent nodded.

I climbed back into the van and pulled out our induction stove pot with its removable handle. A click of the red neon button on the control panel activated the water pump, and soon fresh water filled the pot.

Meanwhile, Trent peeled away the window covers, revealing a thin layer of frost beneath and fog draping the ground like heavy curtains.

“Looks kind of dreary today. Should we spend the morning exploring downtown?” I suggested.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea,” Trent agreed. He rarely disagreed with me, but when he did, I loved him all the more for it.

We lingered over instant coffee and a simple breakfast of maple brown sugar oatmeal with bananas, enjoying the unhurried pace of it all.

By mid-morning, we were ready to head into Moab. The 15-minute drive wound along the edge of the mesas, the Colorado River keeping us company on the right.

Main Street greeted us just before 10:00 AM, subdued and quiet, with many shops still closed for the slower season.

“Pull over here,” I said, spotting a parking space in front of Tumbleweed, a shop I’d read about featuring work from local artists.

“We have approximately 20 minutes before the shop opens. Should we take Charlie for a walk and grab a cup of coffee?” I suggested. While I didn’t require more caffeine, the inviting warmth of the coffee shop and its charming atmosphere—the sense of community it fostered and the diversity it embraced—captivated me.

We wandered south a block or two, passing several options before spotting a tiny green-and-red trailer across the street with a sign that read Cafe Italiano.

“Let’s try that one,” I said, pointing. It felt like an unlikely find in the middle of the desert, but it reminded me of sipping cappuccinos in Europe.

Behind the counter, a one-man operation greeted us with a cheerful, youthful energy.

Once coffee was in hand, it was already past 10:00. Just a few minutes turned into thirty, in true Italian fashion.

“Well, I guess we don’t have to wait any longer,” Trent laughed. “Let’s go explore some shops.”

We returned Charlie to the van and hurried into Tumbleweed, seeking a way to commemorate this significant part of our journey. We had made a long-standing decision to collect stickers from our stops to eventually cover a cooler, but I also yearned to gather art for our future home.

The shop offered a variety of options: brightly painted landscapes, abstract wire sculptures, and vivid photographs. A brick casting of the La Sal Mountains juxtaposed with crimson arches caught my eye. We chose a Moab sticker and a few postcards to mail from the post office nearby.

By 11:00, we were headed toward Arches, despite knowing it was the Saturday after Christmas. As we pulled up to the entrance, traffic came to a standstill beside a sign that read: 1-hour wait from this point.

We both sighed. “I guess everyone had the same idea.”

Thankfully, it only took 45 minutes to reach the front.

A park ranger in his mid-fifties greeted us with a friendly smile. “Good morning! Welcome to Arches National Park. Do you have a Park Pass with you today?”

“No, we’d like to buy an Annual pass please.” Trent handed the man his ID and credit card and moments later we were on our way in. This was just the first of many national parks we’d explore in the year ahead. 

As we drove along the park roads, neither of us had visited the park before, but we couldn’t help but be awestruck by the massive red rock formations that towered above us, their glow intensified by the soft winter light.

“Would you look at this arch-itecture!” I laughed.

We stopped first at The Windows and Delicate Arch, two of the park’s most iconic spots. Both were packed, a steady stream of people making their way up the trails and snapping photos at every turn. We tried to soak in the majesty of the landmarks despite the bustle, but the crowds detracted from the landscape’s tranquility, so we pressed on.

Eventually, we found solitude at Sand Dunes Arch. The short walk through narrow rock walls opened into a hidden space, quiet and still, with soft sand underfoot. It felt like stepping into a secret tucked away from the world. Nearby, Broken Arch was equally peaceful. We lingered, while I tried to capture the moment with my Sony a7rv. Photography was my latest hobby, and I spent a long time experimenting with angles and settings, determined to do the beauty of the landscape justice.

As the sun descended, we bid farewell to Moab and headed back to town. Exhausted from our day’s adventures, we decided to skip cooking and opted for dinner at The Moab Diner.

Rather than returning to Big Bend Campground, we decided to find a more remote spot for the night. Driving out of town, we turned onto Behind the Rocks Road, a rugged dirt path that led us deep into the quiet desert. The stars began to emerge as we pulled off into spot 7, far from any other campers, and completely free, but with a cost: no services.

The absolute stillness outside was palpable. Stepping out into the cold night air, we tilted our heads back to gaze at the sky. Without any light pollution, the stars shone as dazzling pinpricks of light scattered across the vast expanse of blackness.

If today felt like this, what would tomorrow bring? I wondered.