The first time my wife, Jen, and I brought Artemis the Airstream to Gold Canyon, Arizona, a retirement community pressed up against the Superstition Mountains southeast of Phoenix, I wanted to leave almost the moment I arrived. The problem wasn鈥檛 the camping: We had found a pretty, tucked-away site on state trust land where we happily could stay the full allowable two weeks. But at the time, I was training for a mountain bike race, and that first night, when I looked on my favorite online sources for trails in the area (, , ), I could find just one lonely, short piece of singletrack, which would never suffice.
鈥淟et鈥檚 not unhitch,鈥 I implored Jen. 鈥淲e can leave early tomorrow and find something better.鈥
Jen鈥檚 good at managing me. 鈥淢aybe we should just have a look around in the morning.鈥
Grudgingly, I pedaled out early, expecting to do a quick out-and-back on the sole trail I鈥檇 found and get back to camp in time to go look for something else while temps were still cool. A half-mile in, however, a spur trail that wasn鈥檛 on my GPS download came in from the right. Curious, I took it. Another mile along, I came to a three-way junction, and I turned again. The trails continued to twist and splinter, and before I knew it, I鈥檇 been riding for several hours and hadn鈥檛 once doubled back. According to the internet, this trail didn鈥檛 even exist. Yet here I was carving mile after blessed mile of desert singletrack.
In this age of smartphones, handheld downloads, and pervasive information, it鈥檚 easy to believe that if you can鈥檛 see trails on a screen, there鈥檚 no point in looking. Don鈥檛 get me wrong: I love technology. We use a host of mapping tools to locate and curate our campsites, we own a Garmin 35T that lives exclusively in Artemis to help us navigate, and I believe devices like these make it easier and safer than ever for people to get deep into the backcountry.
At the same time, as I found in Gold Canyon, these devices can also become stumbling blocks. I鈥檓 frequently amazed by how many great trails and hikes aren鈥檛 documented. In southern Colorado, after a couple weeks camping in the forests near the village of Platoro, I noticed a falling-down brown trailhead sign. There was no trail visible from the road, but once I hiked in a few hundred yards, I discovered a sinuous singletrack that climbed away onto a ridge. It looked like, other than elk and deer, I was the only one to have used the trail in years. And in northern New Mexico this spring, Jen and I finally stopped and explored an uncharted spot called Martinez Canyon, which we鈥檝e driven past time after time, and discovered not just great riding but also some amazing forest service campsites.
As #roadlifers, we tend to rely heavily in our devices, often so much so that they become restricting. Because most pay sites and parks require reservations, many people fall into the trap of booking their every move for weeks into the future. That helps avoid a lot of uncertainty鈥攁nd the hassle of getting stuck in spots where you can鈥檛 turn around鈥攂ut it also quashes some of the spontaneity that makes life in a trailer or van so different from being tied down in a house.
In this age of smartphones, handheld downloads, and pervasive information, it鈥檚 easy to believe that if you can鈥檛 see trails on a screen, there鈥檚 no point in looking.
Waking after a week or two at a camp spot, hitching up, and rolling forward to discover where the highway will take you is one of the great satisfactions of road life. It won鈥檛 always work out鈥攚e鈥檝e had our share of suboptimal nights鈥攂ut the good news is you always have your food and a comfy bed with you, so a bad night can never really be that bad. And on the good nights, you鈥檒l find yourself all alone at a forest site in a place that, a few hours earlier, you had no idea even existed.
Plan a two- or three-day period where you don鈥檛 overthink the trip. Put your finger somewhere on a (paper) map, resist the urge to look up anything about the place, and just go. If you are on the road from point A to point B, cut your day short and stop somewhere along the way. Jen and I once made an unplanned stop in Del Norte, Colorado, and discovered a trail network that was so good we stayed a few extra days.
The key to such finds is being open to possibilities. I鈥檓 not saying you should completely ditch your GPS and iPhones. They are tools that quite often enhance our experiences. But from time to time, switch them off. Go out for a ride or a hike in a place you don鈥檛 know, and let yourself get lost. Drive up that disused side road and see if there鈥檚 somewhere good to stay. You may be surprised what you find.