10/09/2026

Writing a bit sooner than I expected to. I’m currently standing outside my camper in monument valley, doing the most glorious thing know to RVing. Emptying and cleaning my black & grey tanks. 

I’ve got a big t shirt, cute gingham bloomer shorts and my *just barely* too small crocs sandals on so they’re rubbing blisters into my feet. It’s about 80 degrees, but plenty of clouds. Some even look like rain clouds and I swear if it rains I’m going to cry again. Today is just one of those solo travel days that you don’t hear too much about. I’ve cried a lot. Mostly happy tears. I’m not sure if the need to let it out bubbled up to the surface because of the crazy day I had yesterday or if it’s just crossing off a bucket list location. Seems like too much of a coincidence to not tie in yesterday’s events to today’s emotional wave. 

Yesterday morning, I woke up feeling brave. I had booked an excursion. I was too excited the night before so I didn’t sleep all that great and in my classic fashion I did not prepare or take care of my self enough the morning of. I focused on getting ready, I wanted to look good so I could feel good. I didn’t eat anything, drank a white peach redbull and got in the truck. It was about a 25 minute drive for me to get to the location the group was going to meet at. Roughly 15 of that was a little mini off roading with almost no one else in sight so I was really starting to question my sanity. Was this safe? I’m a woman alone, driving into the middle of no where to meet a group of thrill seekers? Is this even real? Hopefully the site I booked on is legit- all the things. Alas, I arrive at the coordinates sent to me. A little flat space, red dirt, middle of nowhere. At this point I’ve seen a few dirt bike groups so I was feeling a little less alone. And there is just one lonely SUV in this lot, with a whole 8 mins to spare until 10 am. Eventually, 2 more cars showed up. And then the two vehicles from the company arrived. I met with the group, chatted it up. The energy was light and fun, everyone was nervous and excited and happy to talk. There was a lesbian couple with a wild 8 year old, a gay couple (only one was participating and one was spectating), an older gentleman also solo but his family was there to drop him off. And the two shuttle/group members. I was the only one, completely alone. We all squeeze into the two vehicles, I was a lucky girl and got front seat since I was traveling solo. Which I was very thankful for because I certainly would’ve gotten car sick if I hadn’t.

We spent about 40 mins off roading to the location, then had a little 15 minute walk down to the cliffs edge. And there I was. Staring down 500 feet, from a cliff edge I was about to jump off. I was surprisingly calm. I think having an 8 year old in the group *so* excited to go made me feel a bit more brave. I also do fairly well inducing peer pressure on myself, so being around a rather large group of the company now who are all thrill seekers gave me a little boost. One thing my momma didn’t do, was raise a little bitch. Overbearing any peer pressure or inspiration from those around me, I really just felt like I needed to do this for myself. I’ve really pointed my life in a direction that I want to do hard things, I want to get out of my comfort zone. I want to prove to myself that I am becoming the kind of person I want to be. For months now I’ve watched video after video of people jumping & swinging off this cliff and I knew that if I backed out I’d regret it deeply. Not because of the money spent, or the embarrassment. Much more than that. If I backed out, I’d be proving to myself that I’m not as strong as I think I am. I wanted to feel the feeling of letting go, to a pretty extreme measure. I trusted the ropes and the professionals leading us that I was safe. The real mental battle was with myself. Could I really, actually, fling myself off a 500 ft cliff?

To spare the length of this I won’t talk too much about the rest of the groups jumps. I was very thankful that the older solo man asked me to snap a few pictures of him when he went, because he was also a photographer and snapped some for me when I went. A luxury I don’t often get when traveling solo. A few people jumped before me, I decided I wanted Voodoo Child - Jimi Hendrix to be my “walk out song”. Every moment before and during this almost felt like an out of body experience. I was just going through the motions. Talking, laughing, getting hooked up to the rope that would be saving my life in a few moments. The group kept asking if I was nervous, surprisingly not? I just knew that I had to do this. I thought I’d be more scared standing there on the x, staring at the edge, knowing I was about to jump. But I wasn’t. I feel anxiety often, and it always presents as little shakes, especially in my hands. But there I was, not shaking one bit. Smiling. Ready. Accepting. I asked for a countdown, knowing that the pressure of the group counting down would genuinely force me to toss myself off that ledge. I wasn’t even scared, well, not until my feet left that ledge. There I was completely and utterly free falling. I knew the feeling instantaneously. I didn’t know how I’d react, or what I would think. I certainly didn’t think I’d whimper. But there I was, falling, whimpering, grasping this rope for dear life. In those couple seconds it hit. A rush, a reminder at how precious life is to me. And just then, the rope caught me. I swung over the rocks, finally seeing through my eyes which had been open the whole time but I wasn’t registering anything during that drop. Just the feelings. I sat there dangling, so proud of myself, all I could do was giggle. They started to winch me up and I stared out at the view, thankful for my life. I will say, I was offered to jump again, and I declined. Once was enough, my stomach was still out there off that cliffs edge because it still hadn’t settled. It was humbling, a group full of adults who could only jump once, watching this 8 year old do a second jump with absolutely no fear. 

I wonder how age affects us, and I suppose it’s different for everyone. The phases of our lives are so beautiful. Yesterday, to be in awe at the almost insane bravery from a little boy. To today, a conversation with an older woman at this RV park as I stand outside emptying my tanks. We chatted a bit at how beautiful the view is, and she said she had driven through before as a child but she just couldn’t remember it the same. She said “I should’ve paid more attention.” And god it took some strength to not tear up at hearing her say that. Because isn’t that life? So many of us don’t pay attention to what’s around us. Who is around us. We don’t appreciate this world enough. We finished our conversation and as she walked away I stood there speechless. How lucky I am to cherish the small things. How lucky I am to have enough passion for my life and this world that I cried 25 miles from monument valley at just the glimpse of what I was going to see. I cried the whole way, stopped probably 4 or 5 times in 25 miles. Sometimes to look at the view, others because the tears running down my face were becoming a hazard. 

But I wasn’t just crying because of my love for life, or the joy of crossing off a bucket list location and seeing the stunning views of the landscape around me. Some of those tears were thinking of my grandparents, both alive and passed on. My parents. My siblings. My friends. Crying because here I am 3,300 miles from home. Alone. Grateful for this experience, for this life, for the opportunity to see the most amazing things I’ve always wanted to see. But still, alone. No one to share the view with. Stopping at the view points and seeing couples, families, friends and more getting in and out of all the vehicles to take photos of each other and stare in awe at what was in front of us. A price I pay, painfully, to go the places I want to go. 

I don’t want that to sound ungrateful. I am overflowing with gratitude and appreciation. I am aware at how lucky I am. Although I work and sacrifice a lot to get to do this, I am able bodied and so lucky to be here. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t thank my lucky stars. But it still doesn’t take that bitter little sting away sometimes. I like to be alone, don’t get me wrong. But I spend weeks at a time alone, taking any chance I can to talk to strangers just to socialize a bit. I think sometimes it just catches up, when the feeling gets really real and you’re staring out into a place you’ve always wanted to be. All you’re left with is it staring right back out at you. 

If you’ve read this, tell someone you love them today. Go spend time with a friend. Call someone you haven’t spoken to in a while. Feel the air entering your lungs, your limbs, look out with your eyes and remember how lucky we are to be here.