A 1995 Road Trip
road trip—noun—A usually lengthy trip taken in a motor vehicle, especially for pleasure.
Before the internet took hold on the collective psyche of America, and when GPS was the stuff of science fiction, the epic road trip was the best way to experience the world. It is still true today, but road trips before modern technology were simpler, and in many ways more rewarding. The only way to know where the ribbon of asphalt led was to consult a piece of paper with lines and numbers on it; no virtual tours, no Google Earth, and no cell phones to find solace in if a wrong turn occurred. In the 90’s we largely lived in the physical world, documenting our experience on film, and with wide-eyed naivety. Everything still seemed big and new, fresh and full of possibilities.
For this road trip-it was just the four of us-Dustin, Milbert, Sharon, and me, headed out to Fruita, Colorado, and then on to Moab, Utah, to try out this new thing called mountain biking. Suspension technology was nascent in the early 90’s—nothing more than rubber elastomers in most cases, and no control over travel or rebound. But we didn’t know any thing that could be better, and we thought it all a great adventure. My Bell helmet was a simple styrofoam shell with fishnet over it, which I bought in the late 80’s and then kept it for way too long until the styrofoam was a brittle mess.
We decided to splurge on a hotel 20 hours into our trip-even though camping was the ultimate goal. Somehow those polyester comforters with their oddly shiny surface were too much to resist after driving all night through Iowa and Nebraska.
We weren’t a sophisticated group of social media influencers-that much is obvious. There was little thought as to how we presented ourselves to camera, images were snapped to provide evidence that we existed, that fun was had, and adventure was achieved. Mountain biking was next level radical to us, or at least to me, and I wanted evidence of the extreme nature of the adventures we embarked upon.
Usually this documentation involved stopping around every bend and turn, eating something like a pop-tart or the brand new Power Bar, and propping my point and shoot Pentax with remote control trigger on a rock. Then we gathered as an awkward looking group and stared at the camera. Then I stuffed my trusty camera back into my fanny pack, donned my styrofoam helmet, and pedaled up the next hill or around the next bend. The images are exactly what they should be, given the era—no fancy 4K motion stabilized full color video, just silver halide and the mid summer sun of the American Southwest.
We camped by the Colorado River-on US 128, which branches off from I-70 and is probably one of the best drives in the United States. Go ahead, argue with me.
No showers at camp, primitive toilets, and scarce water are the best ingredients for adventure. But right at the end of US 128 there is literally a crack in a rock where water springs forth, and it is some of the best tasting water I’ve ever had. Things like turkey salsa dogs and Tang coupled with piles of granola rounded out our camp life diet. There is something about sitting by the river while the sun sinks low and reflects off monolithic red sandstone cliffs that is indescribably primal. It may sound trite, but for those of you who have not experienced it, go ahead and give it a try sometime.
National parks, especially those in the southwest, are serious bucket list destinations for many travelers. Arches National Park is by far one of the best, and most crowded, parks in Utah-especially during high season. Still, a few tourist snaps and a couple of epic arches documented on 35 mm Tri-X Pan had to happen.
It’s been nearly 25 years since this trip. Milbert lives in Angwin, California, and Dustin just east of Toronto, Canada. I ended up marrying Sharon (woot!)-and after circling the sun 25 more times we find ourselves still road trippin, but now with a couple kids and an old Suburban. But this trip was the genesis of my lifelong love affair with travel and adventure, and even if the world is more connected than it once was, there is still mystery around the next bend in the road.