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Autumn Road Trip Across America

16 states, 6200 miles in 22 days

By Scott Richardson

November 27^th, 2022

Driving West to Kansas City

There was only one goal for the first leg of my trip: mileage—the maximum miles possible in the shortest amount of time.

After work, I logged 507 miles from Ambler, PA, to Springfield, OH, on a Friday night. Saturday morning, after a quick detour to Schuler’s Bakery, I logged another 375 miles before I reached my first destination just east of St. Louis.

Cahokia Mounds State Historic Site

From 700-1400 AD, settlements along the Cahokia Creek east of St. Louis grew into the largest prehistoric indigenous community north of Mexico. Corn production helped centralize a community of 20,000 people at its peak. A ruling elite emerged and directed the construction of a complex series of earthen mounds for residences, ceremonies, and funeral sites. Cahokia Mounds, a UNESCO heritage site, preserves the prehistoric mounds from development and destruction.

With the founding of neighboring St. Louis, ancient mounds in and around the city were initially left untouched. As the population grew, the city engulfed the mounds. By 1869, railroad workers used dirt from the last remaining mound to construct a railroad bed.

Gateway Arch National Park

One of the newest national parks was one of my most dreaded. On previous trips, I’d visited the St. Louis arch but had yet to ride to the top or explore its museum. While it offers no scenic beauty, the park preserves many moments in the foundation of American history.

As railroads decreased reliance on river trade and travel, St. Louis civic leaders imagined a memorial could help develop their waterfront.

Architect Eero Saarinen designed a memorial around a stainless steel arch symbolizing a gateway to the west. While the arch is likely his most famed structure, Saarinen also designed Kleinhans Music Hall in Buffalo, NY.

A museum underneath the arch tells the area’s history, from 1050 AD, when the Mississippian people made ceremonial and practical mounds, to the city’s founding in 1764 as a French fur trading post. The city served as the site of the westernmost battle in the American Revolution and an essential gateway as the manifest destiny expanded America to the west.

The Old Courthouse, adjacent to the site of the arch memorial, is where Dred and Harriet Scott came to file petitions for their freedom in 1846 and where the first case in what would become the Dred Scott v. Sandford supreme court decision was heard.

Kansas City to Denver

I’m sure many road trips skip Kansas or treat it as a racetrack as they speed toward the mountains. But Kansas was one of the few states I’d yet to visit, my 49th, so it was worth investigating deeper.

Late in the evening, my wife and I rolled into a campsite along Clinton Lake near Lawrence. Our friend Emily and her dog River were waiting for us, and after some small talk, we set up camp and headed to bed.

We set out early the following day to visit a sunflower farm. Sunflowers grow in every county, helped along by abundant summer sunshine. Deer, rabbits, and other wildlife munch on them, and their seeds are put in everything from snacks and cooking oils to livestock and bird feed. They’re even in the state nickname of “The sunflower state” and grace to the top of its flag.

Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve

The grasslands and prairies that once spanned vast areas of the country have been parceled off by farming and destroyed by overgrazing. Within the Flint Hills of Kansas, Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve protects over 500 species of plants, wildflowers, and grasses and supports wildlife such as deer, bison, and various insects and amphibians.

We explored only a tiny portion of the vast prairie, soaking in a landscape reminiscent of the pre-settled American west.

The geologic wonders of Kansas

It’s easy to miss the special places that make Kansas unique; they’re well hidden down dirt back roads, often far from the interstate. But a little effort goes a long way.

Mushroom Rock State Park preserves several small toadstool formations that jut out from the prairie landscape. These sandstone oddities once served as landmarks along the first overland trails to California.

Coronado Heights: High atop an eroded sandstone hill overlooking the Swedish-inspired town of Lindsborg sits the Coronado Heights castle, a site famous for being a stop on Spanish explorer Francisco Vasquez de Coronado’s failed attempt to locate the seven cities of gold. To the west, we found oddly shaped sandstone toadstools jutting out of the prairie.

We camped along a river at a cattle ranch, soaking in the sound of cows and clear views of the milky way above.

We continued west, admiring the limestone bluffs of the Cedar Bluff Reservoir, picnicked in an arid small-town park in Ransom, and headed to Lake Scott to view the remains of a small pueblo built by Taos Indians fleeing Spanish rule in New Mexico. Winding through backroads north, we admired chalk formations left over from an ancient inland sea at Little Pyramids, Monument Rocks, and Little Jerusalem.

We returned to the interstate and quickly headed west to Colorado.

Mount Evans, Colorado

Mount Evans Scenic Byway is the highest paved road in North America, climbing over 7,000 feet to an altitude of 14,130 feet.

Great Sand Dunes National Park

After our adventure in Kansas, we parked the car near the Denver airport and flew home. Three weeks later, I flew back to continue the journey. After arriving late, I started the drive south towards the Great Sand Dunes, with the goal of driving until I was too tired to drive any further safely. I made it two hours and parked near Pueblo, CO.

I woke up well before dawn and drove the remaining two hours in the dark. I hiked up the dunes and watched the sunrise from a ridge just below the High Dune. The landscape changes quickly as the sun accentuates the curvature of the dune ridges.

I had traveled to Great Sand Dunes twice before, so I came with two goals: explore deeper into the dune field than on previous trips by camping within the dunes backcountry, and hike up to a mountain pass in the Sangre De Cristo mountains that run along the edge of the park.

After breakfast, I headed to the trailhead for Mosca Pass, a relatively easy 6.2-mile trail that climbs 1400+ feet to the mountain pass. I started within a shady forest and followed a stream as I climbed uphill. The trees became more sparse as the soil became rockier. After a few miles, I arrived at a beautiful alpine meadow, which quickly gave way to a golden aspen forest.

I inadvertently walked into someone’s campsite when I got to the pass. The views were of mountains in every direction, dotted with golden hues of early fall foliage.

I finished the hike by mid-afternoon, ate lunch, and ordered an extra sandwich for dinner. My legs were sore from hiking, so I knew the walk to camp would be torture. I chose what looked to be an easy route up a small dune ridge, but the dune beyond it was steep and soft, and it took my last bit of energy to climb. I finally reached the edge of the first set of high dunes, which marked the boundary of the backcountry; I was officially allowed to camp anywhere beyond this boundary.

I hiked two miles before I found a suitable site between two dunes that could act as a windbreak. Still, the wind found me and made getting the tent set up a chore. The night was tranquil except for the odd plane passing overhead. The temperature dipped to 40 degrees; the wind kicked up, which collapsed the rainfly and intermittently shot sand into the tent.

The wind continued to gust in the morning, but I got up and explored a vast expanse of dunes devoid of people. As far as I could tell, I had set up camp further than anyone else so I could enjoy a landscape all my own.

Silver Thread Scenic Byway

The second day of my road trip started before sunrise deep within the dunes. Tired from a cold and windy night, I quickly packed up camp and hiked the two miles back to the car, each step forward feeling like a step back as I dragged myself over a ridge of soft sand. Every pocket, fold, and wrinkle of my clothes, gear, and skin was encrusted with sand particles. I took a quick hobo shower using the foot wash near the parking lot, changed clothes, and hit the road.

The plan for the day was to drive the Silver Thread Scenic Byway, CO-149, a road that winds through the San Juan mountains from South Fork to the northwest towards Gunnison. I spent more time than I would’ve liked getting groceries, coffee, and lunch in Alamosa, but I eventually made it to South Fork to start the drive.

The road was more spectacular than I’d imagined, with sweeping valley views and golden aspens. Along the way, I stopped for a quick walk around North Clear Creek Falls, a dramatic waterfall that drops into a narrow, rocky canyon. The rain started to trickle down halfway through the drive, and it was a torrential downpour when I reached Slumgullion Pass.

The road continued to wind through the mountains until it reached the mesas near Curecanti Recreation Area. I had hoped to stop for a quick paddle on the lake but still had two hours to drive up a winding road before camp that night.

Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park

I first visited the Black Canyon on a spur-of-the-moment trip in 2018. I arrived at the south rim, asked the rangers to recommend their favorite trails, and hiked until a thunderstorm rolled in. I watched an incredible lighting storm illuminate the canyon. When the clouds cleared, I saw the milky way clearer than I’d ever seen it before. That experience inspired my goal to visit all of the national parks.

In planning for this trip, I wanted to experience the park differently. A long detour from anywhere, the north rim’s solitude drew me in.

The road to the north rim was fascinating. CO-92 slowly winds above the Gunnison River before climbing into the mountains of the Grand Mesa, Uncompahgre, And Gunnison National Forests, which were showing early signs of fall color.

I reached Black Canyon in time to watch the sunset from the north rim and stuck around until after dark to stargaze. I felt pressure to recreate the vibrant images of the milky way I’d created in 2018 and hoped to incorporate the canyon walls into the composition. But the steep canyon is challenging to photograph at any time; some parts only see 30 minutes of light daily. I aligned my camera with the milky way core and illuminated a small cropping of rocks in the foreground.

The following day the cold woke me up early, with temperatures in the mid-30s. I drove to the canyon rim and made breakfast at the furthest point the park road reached.

Sunrise revealed the veins that crosscut the dark canyon wall, scarring it with unique patterns. The Gunnison River constantly roared below: a constant reminder of the forces that carved the canyon’s steep walls. Stellar’s Jays called out from the trees around the rim, and mule deer grazed along the road.

San Juan Mountains

Beyond visiting the national parks along my route, I hoped to see vibrant autumn colors in the San Juan Mountains on this trip. A year prior, I looked at weather forecasts and researched pictures to see when the leaves had started to turn. I checked the foliage forecasts and compared notes with Coloradans I met in the Smoky Mountains earlier in the year.

After scouting public land near the Black Canyon in search of campsites for future trips, I drove north to Hotchkiss, then connected with CO-550, The Million Dollar Highway, near Montrose.

The famed road’s twists, turns, and sheer dropoffs did not disappoint. Neither did the autumn color as the aspens showed golden leaves on every mountainside. I debated stopping to paddleboard near Ridgway, but the lake’s water level looked low, plus the road was just too much fun to drive.

In Ouray, I stopped to visit Box Canyon and its waterfalls. I hiked up through the canyon to get a better look at the mountains surrounding the town: their mostly treeless rocky faces colored by layers of stone.

In Ironton, I stopped to see the remnants of an old mining town and 1800s transportation hub. A few buildings remained along Red Mountain Creek in various states of disrepair and rot. A bull, cow, and calf moose hung around the area for an hour, seemingly unbothered by a few tourists admiring them through the trees.

San Juan National Forest

I started to look for a campsite early and found a quiet spot near the red-stained Mineral Creek just north of Silverton. Cautious to pace myself just a few days into the trip, I made dinner and was asleep by 8:30. I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed a few hours later to stargaze.

The following day I wanted to hike to a series of high-alpine lakes. Still, the weather forecast was poor: rain and thunderstorms scattered throughout the morning. I debated braving the weather, but with so much incredible scenery accessible from the road, I chose comfort over adventure.

Before returning to the main road, I drove further into the forest. Once again, I found a bull, cow, and calf moose walking along the creek and followed them until the road hit a dead end.

Everywhere I looked, the landscape was incredible.

Uncompahgre and Gunnison National Forest

South of Telluride, I encountered a closed bridge that blocked access to several dispersed campsites I had marked on my map. Tired from the day and desperate for a shower, I found a Forest Service campground with a beautiful view of the mountains and easy access to hiking trails.

The stars were clouded over most of the night, but I found a spot to stargaze for a little while before heading to bed.

I woke up well before sunrise to get an early start on a busy day. I had a tour scheduled in Mesa Verde that afternoon, a drive that would take a few hours to complete.

I watched the sunrise over a frosty meadow, then hit the road for one last detour before leaving the San Juan mountains behind. I drove up a rutted backcountry road toward Dunton Meadows, a wilderness spot I had picked randomly from a map as it looked isolated and beautiful.

Mesa Verde National Park

I found it incredibly hard to leave the beauty of the San Juan mountains just as the aspens were getting to their peak autumn color. Still, I had tours scheduled to visit the ancient cliff dwellings of Mesa Verde.

Starting about 1,500 years ago, the nomadic Ancestral Pueblo people settled in Mesa Verde to hunt and gather food. They transitioned to farming, planting corn, beans, and squash in terraces where water naturally collected. Eventually, they moved from living on the mesa tops to the cooler and more defensible cliffside alcoves.

After 750 years of living on the mesas, most of the population left to settle in New Mexico and Arizona. While the exact reasons for migrating away from Mesa Verde are unknown, it is suspected that they moved to be nearer to kin that settled in other areas. Today’s modern pueblos are descendants of the people of Mesa Verde. 19 pueblos are in New Mexico alone with most located along the Rio Grande.

I arrived at the park’s entrance by noon, but with road construction and nearly 30 miles to drive to the park’s western edge, I was already at risk of missing my first tour. Luckily, I arrived at Wetherill Mesa just in time to join the tour group as a ranger gave an orientation to our destination: Long House.

It has 150 rooms, 21 kivas, storage areas, and a grand plaza. It is believed that early Puebloans used Long House for everyday life and ceremonial purposes.

Following the tour, I continued to explore Wetherill Mesa. From small pithouses partially dug into the earth to multi-roomed villages built of masonry and latticed walls, the communities’ construction and form changed rapidly through the generations. I hiked to see one of the sites photographed by Swedish geologist Gustaf Nordenskiöld in the late 1800s. He taught local ranch owners archaeological excavation techniques and documented many sites throughout Mesa Verde.

I asked a ranger to recommend a good trail for sunset, and he suggested the Knife Edge trail near the campground. Once used as an early road into the park, the path skirts a steep bluff and ends with a magnificent view of the Montezuma Valley. I watched a vibrant sunset over the distant mountains, then returned to camp in the dark.

That night I made dinner under the stars. My campsite hugged a field where other campers were stargazing, so I worked on my meal with only the light of my red astro headlamp. After chopping veggies and boiling water, I admired the milky way. It’s hard to find a restaurant or hotel that offers scenery like this.

The next day I woke up at 5:30 AM and drove to Chapin Mesa. Sunrise was beautiful as it cast a warm glow over the neighboring mesa, lit hills in the distance, and turned the sky from blues and purples to pink and orange. A rainbow appeared over the road.

Cliff Palace is one of the most recognizable dwellings in the park, with its 150 rooms and 23 kivas. Built into a large arching alcove that sheltered inhabitants from the scorching sun, the rock has also preserved the dwelling for centuries.

The ranger explained how dust blows in from Arizona and Utah and settles on the mesas creating soil suitable for farming. Inhabitants used natural drainages in the landscape to capture snow melt and seasonal monsoon rain to water their crops. She also explained that the mesa is a sloped cuesta that allows an additional 30 days of sunlight to reach yields.

While eerily quiet now, the sounds of life must have been deafening. The sounds of work, conversation, children playing, and animals would have bounced and echoed throughout the rock alcove. Puebloans kept domesticated dogs for rodent control and turkeys for food and feathers.

I continued to explore Chapin Mesa, using my telephoto lens to explore the many dwellings lining the walls of Cliff Canyon. I studied mesa top houses at Far View that predate the construction of cliff dwellings by 200 years. I hiked through a piñon-juniper forest to view Soda Canyon, then viewed Spruce and Navajo Canyons on my way to view a large petroglyph panel.

It looked like clouds might block my view of stars, but they quickly passed and revealed an incredibly clear view of the milky way. I watched from the Montezuma Valley Overlook, then drove to the amphitheater above the campground to take a few more photos.

I explored Balcony House on my final morning in Mesa Verde. The tour includes several 20-30’ ladders and a crawl through a tunnel to exit the dwelling. The ranger expressed the importance of preserving these places for future generations. He said that Puebloans left their structures behind to teach future generations about how they once lived.

Northwest New Mexico

I left Mesa Verde and traveled on backroads toward New Mexico. The tree-lined canyons of Mesa Verde faded into mountain forests on the way to Hesperus, where the landscape became arider as I approached the state line.

While I’ve explored a fair amount of New Mexico, I’ve never been to its northwestern corner. I spotted a few exciting sites while researching a trip in 2012: the Bisti badlands and Chaco Canyon. Still, their remote location has eluded me on every return trip.

My first stop in New Mexico was Aztec Ruins National Monument, an ancestral Pueblo “Great House” that once served as a sister city to Chaco.

Great houses once served the ancestral Puebloan’s social, cultural, and political life. These multi-story masonry structures consisted of several room blocks and an enclosed plaza, resulting in an involved planning process and early feats of engineering. These public buildings existed throughout the Four Corners region. They were linked to Chaco by a massive network of roads and villages.

Over the next few days, I explored the sites that have eluded me for so long. I navigated rough rural roads and discovered interesting badlands formations dotting the landscape along the way.

Bisti / De-Na-Zin Wilderness Area

Located about an hour south of Farmington, NM, Bisti’s strange rock, shale, silt, coal, and mudstone formations form hoodoos, arches, pinnacles, spires, and caprocks.

Bisti is a designated wilderness area devoid of trails. Using a map for reference, I followed a ridge of dark-colored badlands until I reached a notable red hill. I found an interesting set of spires and caprocks to photograph at golden hour. As daylight faded into dusk, I hiked back to the car, hastening my pace as navigation became impossible in the dark.

The wind made cooking difficult as I struggled to keep the stove lit. Heavy gusts rocked the car as I settled into bed for the night. A thick layer of dust covered the car the following day.

I hiked out to see the “Cracked Eggs” formation in the morning, then searched unsuccessfully for an arch. Along the way, I found many more exciting formations and painted hills.

Angel Peak Scenic Area: A hidden gem northeast of Bisti, grey-blue rock layers make up the Angel Peak badlands.

Random outcroppings of badland formations are visible from highways and back roads throughout the high desert of northwest New Mexico.

Ancient water flows piled up layers of mud and sand that turned to stone. Natural forces have weathered the formations into their current shapes, exposing the colorful layers.

Chaco Culture National Historical Park

Despite the Chaco valley’s long winters, low rainfall, and short growing season, it once served as the center of the Pueblo world. Chacoans built massive, great multi-story houses using masonry techniques unique for the time. People from around the southwest traveled along an ancient road network to Chaco for ceremonial, administrative and economic reasons. Many modern southwestern tribes are Chaco descendants.

More than 240,000 timbers were transported from distant mountain ranges to build great houses. Trade routes extending thousands of miles brought in stone, pigments, turquoise, ceramics, exotic birds, chocolate, and seashells, although historians need clarification about what it was traded for. One theory is that valuables were brought as tribute to high-status leaders or left as offerings in religious ceremonies.

Chetro Ketl is The second largest great house at Chaco, covering more than 3 acres and containing a great kiva and elevated kivas.

Pueblo Bonito: More than 600 rooms, four or five stories tall, two enclosed plazas and dozens of ceremonial kivas comprised this great house. It served a variety of ceremonial and administrative functions, including for trading, storage, communications, hospitality, astronomy, and burial of the honored dead.

Chacoans oriented their structures to solar, lunar, and cardinal directions, and some great houses incorporated sophisticated astronomy markers. The night sky remains important to Chaco. Given its remote location, it was one of the first four parks to become an International Dark Sky Park in 2013.

Petrified Forest National Park

After a rainy night, I left Chaco Canyon at 5:30 AM for Arizona. The southern route out of Chaco would’ve saved hours of driving time, but a ranger gave vague answers about the road’s condition. “Might be passable; you might get stuck.” I decided to play it safe and backtrack along the gravel county roads I drove in. Rain along the way assured me I chose the safest option.

New Mexico showed its beautiful, desolate beauty along the drive. Distant buttes popped up on the horizon, and colorful badland formations occasionally presented themselves close to the road.

I arrived at the national park’s north entrance by 9:30 AM and admired the colors of the Painted Desert along the road. I explored ancient pueblo ruins, petroglyphs, the Agate Bridge, Giant Logs, and Crystal Forest for the rest of the morning.

I hiked an off-the-beaten-path route through Jasper Forest along a 1930’s road to see a garden of petrified wood. From tiny bits of petrified wood to full logs, the area’s drainages were full of colorful artifacts.

I ended the day by hiking around Blue Mesa, my favorite park area. The brilliant colors of badland formations were evident in the late-afternoon sun.

By early evening, a storm flashed lightning on the horizon. By dusk, it began pouring sheets of rain, and lightning struck close to the road. I had planned to camp in the park’s backcountry, but luckily, I decided against it and found a campsite near town instead.

After a quick grocery resupply in Holbrook, I sheltered from the rain and made dinner in the campground. The rain continued all night and flooded my campsite.

The rain continued into the morning. The Painted Desert looked utterly different as dry washes turned into rushing rivers. The areas I hiked in the Jasper Forest were now underwater.

By mid-morning, the rain had stopped. I hiked the Long Logs trail and explored the Agate House.

Rain returned in the late afternoon. I reheated pasta at an empty picnic area in the Painted Desert, planned a route to a campsite, and headed back to New Mexico.

Central and Northeast New Mexico

I planned to be at my campsite near El Morro by 8:30 PM. After leaving the interstate in Arizona, I traveled on dark, narrow back roads. I feared a collision with a deer, as I had on my last trip to New Mexico. The small campground was full, so I headed toward my backup campsite. I expected a dispersed camping area but found the primitive campground full.

Every camping and parking area along my route was packed. The Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta started mobbing the region with visitors earlier in the week. After several failed attempts to find a quiet place to park, I pulled into a Love’s Truck Stop on the edge of Albuquerque and fell asleep in the driver’s seat.

A rock had chipped my windshield a few days earlier and had begun to spider into a larger crack. I booked a midday appointment to have the glass patched and quickly made an impromptu itinerary for the day. I had my oil changed and headed across the city in search of locations from Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul. I had lunch at Twisters, the restaurant that served as Los Pollos Hermanos on the TV shows. The food was lackluster, and the management was not as attentive as Gus Fring’s character.

Safelite patched my windshield in under 30 minutes, and I headed to the Boca Negra Canyon section of Petroglyph National Monument for a quick hike. Also mobbed with tourists, so I headed towards the Sandia mountains.

The winding, steep drive up to Sandia Crest was beautiful. The fall color was brilliant toward the summit. The fog came and went as I walked along the ridge, admiring yellow trees in every direction.

I booked a last-minute hotel near the airport, cleaned up the car, and had my first hot shower in over a week. That night I headed downtown to watch one of my favorite bands, Manchester Orchestra, play at The Sunshine Theater. It was their first time playing in Albuquerque in 15 years.

Capulin Volcano National Monument

I drove east from Red River, visited Eagle Nest Lake, and completed the Enchanted Circle Scenic Byway in Angelfire. From there, I headed east through Cimarron Canyon, marveling at the rocky bluffs and piñon forest. There was still plenty of wildfire damage in the area, most likely from the 2018 Ute Park fire that destroyed a dozen buildings on the Philmont Scout Ranch. I spent the night in Raton, which oddly featured a carpeted grocery store.

The following day I left for Capulin before sunrise. Capulin erupted into existence at the end of a period of regional volcanism that began 9 million years ago. Its cone rises over 1,300’ above the plains to 8,182’ above sea level. Other volcanoes line the landscape throughout the 8,000-square-mile Raton-Clayton Volcanic Field. Cinders, ash, and other rock debris formed by lava that cooled quickly form the volcano’s cone.

Hot Springs National Park

I left Capulin and drove a monotonous nine hours across New Mexico, Texas, and Oklahoma’s flat landscapes. I camped on the edge of Lake Eufala in eastern Oklahoma, though the only view of the lake I had was by the light of the full moon.

I left for Arkansas at 5:25 AM. The winding roads through the Ouachita National Forest offered many beautiful views in the early morning light.

By mid-morning, I had arrived at my 54th national park, Hot Springs, though I quickly questioned why it still held that designation.

From the mid-1800s through the early 20th century, thermal bathing was a popular form of healthcare and relaxation. Immersion in the surrounding forest was a prescribed activity for many ailments. The first director of the National Park Service, Stephen Mather, became an avid fan of the baths and lobbied congress to convert the government reservation protecting Hot Springs into a national park in 1921.

Hot Springs deliver little charm in terms of natural beauty, quiet wilderness solitude, or geologic rarity. Its campground is less than a mile from rows of apartment buildings. Its trails descend on a row of tourist trap stores separated by a busy road of trucks blaring their radios.

From a historical perspective, a tour of Fordyce Bathhouse, once a working bathhouse and now home to the park’s visitor center and museum, is relatively interesting. Visitors often fainted in its hot rooms. Steam cabinet rooms caused profuse sweating and a rapid pulse. Attendants placed hot and cold packs on “affected” body parts, though they could not diagnose ailments.

I walked the Grand Promenade behind a row of bathhouses, hiked through the mountains, and ended at the first brewery inside a national park. I ordered lunch and a flight of curious beer flavors, including jalapeno, peach sour, a Saison, and a west coast IPA.

I made dinner using the remaining food I had on hand: vegetables, pasta, sausage, bread, and butter. After dinner, I returned to Bathhouse Row to see what I had missed. At night the town was full of tourists, loudly moving between bars. I found a shop serving homemade ice cream and then returned to camp to relax along the creek.

The long drive home

The distance from Hot Springs, Arkansas, to my home in Pennsylvania, is 1,215 miles, about 18 ½ hours of driving. I hit the road by 5 AM, stopping at the only coffee shop open early in Hot Springs.

I made it to Nashville by late morning and met my uncle for lunch at a barbecue restaurant. Our meal and conversation were a nice break from the road. It also happened to be the halfway point for my travel that day.

That day, I logged the majority of my miles in Tennessee. The state is longer than you’d imagine when traveling the entire width of the state. I detoured onto a winding mountain road for an hour to avoid an accident on the interstate. Fall color was starting to descend on the mountains, and they were beautiful.

I logged 770 miles in about 12 hours, stopping to camp in Wytheville, Virginia. The temperature was a cool 40 degrees when I went to sleep.

On my last travel day, I hit the road early to drive the remaining 445 miles. I watched the sunrise over the Blue Ridge Mountains. I cruised north up a familiar stretch of I-81 for five hours before turning east before Harrisburg. I arrived home by 11:45 AM, officially ending the final leg of my long road trip.