Saturday Summary - Week 25 Sheer Drops, Three National Parks, and One Very Leaky Kayak

Montrose, CO (50s) → Moab, UT (70s) → Monticello, UT (60s)

This was one of our busiest weeks yet. Three national parks, one state park, and the Colorado River, all packed into four days. Don took two days off work, giving us a long weekend, and we did what we do best: we filled it to the brim. It was a lot. It was fun. And it pushed us in more ways than one.

Black Canyon of the Gunnison: Facing the Edge (Literally)

We kicked things off at Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, a place that is stunning and, for me, mentally exhausting. Everything about this park is vertical.

The canyon plunges 8,043 feet deep, deeper than the Grand Canyon, and the viewpoints are… well… right there. No soft introduction. No easing into it. Just step up and look down.

For someone with a fear of heights, it’s a lot. I kept repeating my mantra: “The ground is flat under your feet. Stay on the path. Pay attention.” And it worked, until it didn’t. We hit multiple viewpoints, including the Painted Wall, the tallest cliff in Colorado. Standing there, looking down the equivalent of nearly two Empire State Buildings stacked on top of each other… my brain simply couldn’t compute it. By the end of the day, I had a massive headache from holding tension the entire time. Beautiful? Absolutely. Enjoyable? In a very specific, “I did the hard thing” kind of way. We rewarded ourselves the only logical way: pizza and beer at a local brewery.

Moab Bound and Utahraptor State Park

On Sunday, we headed back into Utah, landing at Utahraptor State Park, a quiet, wide-open campground sitting atop one of the largest dinosaur bone beds in North America. Over 5,500 bones have been discovered here. Potentially over 100,000 are still waiting. And yet… it felt peaceful. Uncrowded. Exactly our speed.

Arches National Park: A Conscious Decision

We went back and forth on whether to visit Arches National Park at all. It’s one of the most visited parks in the country, and that comes with complications. Crowds. Traffic backing up for miles. Pressure on fragile landscapes. Strain on already underfunded park systems.

As someone who has spent a career in tourism, I struggle with this balance. I believe deeply in the power of travel, but I also see what happens when visitation outpaces management.

We made a deal: If it was busy, we’d skip it. If it wasn't, we’d give it a try. We got lucky, and the entrance wasn't backed up, and the visitor center parking lot was only half full. The park was relatively quiet (all things considered), and we chose less crowded experiences. No Delicate Arch. No “must-do” checklist. Just quieter trails, a handful of respectful hikers, and space to actually take it in. It felt like the right decision, for us and for the place.

Canyonlands: Exactly What We Needed

If Arches felt complicated, Canyonlands National Park felt right. We joined a ranger-led geology talk (always worth it), explored overlooks, and picked hikes that matched our comfort levels. Don tackled one of his top-choice hikes along the canyon edge.

I… did not. The descriptions of the trail mentioned “immersive canyon views”,” walking next to the edge”, and “no guardrails to dampen the view”. After Black Canyon, I knew my limits. I joined for part of it, then turned back and spent time with Lucky, feeling no guilt of missing out. We regrouped for other hikes, including Upheaval Dome, where the views were just as impressive without the same level of exposure. That’s been a recurring theme lately: We don’t have to do everything to have a meaningful experience.

Colorado River Kayak Day

Tuesday was one of the most anticipated days of this week; we kayaked the Colorado River!

Eight miles of calm current, towering canyon walls, and minimal effort. This wasn’t a workout. This was a float. We had breakfast on the riverbank, watched the canyon walls, and even spotted a mountain goat navigating impossibly steep rock faces. Of course, Lucky joined us. She finally sat down in the kayak. Progress. Her normal stance is to stand the entire time, and she prefers to stand at the front of the kayak, imagining herself as the masthead of our boat.

Then… the kayak incident. For context: one of our kayaks has a hole in it. It’s had a hole in it for about four years after a mouse decided it would be a good winter nest. It’s “never been a problem.” Until it was. Don leaned back. The back dipped. The hole went underwater. Game over. The kayak filled quickly, Don bailed out (into very cold water), and made his way to shore. Thankfully, the river was shallow enough for him to stand, but cold enough to be a shock. Once safely on land, he dumped the kayak, and I laughed harder than I probably should have.

Everything was fine. The kayak survived. But yes… we will be buying a new one. The rest of the float? Smooth, calm, until it wasn't. The wind picked up, so our paddle speed had to increase as well. Despite the kayak incident and the heavy winds, it was one of the best days we’ve had. We were rewarded with a hotel stay and a nice hot shower we both needed.

Moab: A Different Perspective

Midweek, while Don worked, I spent time in Moab and did something that felt important.

I visited the local tourism office. We had a good conversation, but it reinforced something I’ve been feeling more and more on this trip: There’s a difference between marketing a destination… and managing one. My work, and where I see my future, is firmly in the space of stewardship, community alignment, and sustainable growth. Marketing has a role, absolutely. But it has to be connected to something bigger; something that ensures the destination, the community, and the visitor experience can all thrive long-term. That’s the work I want to keep doing. We wrapped the week with a quick overnight stop and made our way toward Mesa Verde National Park. Our next National Park and another chapter to our amazing adventure.

Week 25 Takeaway

This week was full, physically, mentally, and emotionally. We pushed limits (hello, heights), made intentional choices about how we travel, and were reminded that the best experiences don’t always come from checking the biggest box. Sometimes they come from watching your husband dump a kayak full of water into the desert.