In 48 hours I’ll be somewhere in southern Utah.  I’m bringing my bike, my trail runners, every piece of camping equipment I own, and a brashness that only a thirty-eight year old single female can possess.

I say somewhere in Utah because my original plan was to settle in the northernmost section of the Canyonlands, Island in the Sky, and do some short day hikes and bikes around that area, mainly: Dead Horse State Park, Arches, and anything off road 313 that appealed to me.

But as the forecast calls for 50% chance of rain and snow starting on Thanksgiving Day, I’m rethinking my plans.  You see, four years ago this week I embarked on the ballsiest trip I’ve ever taken: a twelve-day, two thousand mile jaunt across southern Utah–almost all of it.  I packed every piece of sporting equipment I owned (except for the rollerblades) and set out, stopping in Brian Head to snowboard, St. George to mountain bike, Zion and Bryce to hike, Kanab to rest, Kodachrome Basin State Park to mountain bike again, Escalante and Boulder to gape, and Moab to recoup before heading home and stopping off at Glenwood Hot Springs for a soak on the way home.

Sound exciting?  Twas. Except for the freezing rain.  I would wake up every morning, check the weather and look for somewhere, anywhere, that called for blue skies.  Alas, the entirety of southern Utah was cloaked in moisture that week; I could not escape it.

So, as I tend to do, I just dealt with it.  Four years later, I’m not sure I can just deal with it.  I don’t mind the rain.  I don’t mind the cold.  I love camping.  But camping in the cold rain, alone?  I’m not sure I can do that.  What a difference four years make.

I will keep you posted.