Home for the weekend. There’s something special about finding a quiet campsite and calling it yours.

This trip took us to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, which is never not incredible. Most of the trails in the area are rated easy, but we tend to like a little more excitement, so naturally we picked one of the few rated intermediate.

We planned to camp our first night just outside of Tusayan, which meant a little trail time and the important task of finding the perfect campsite. Once we hit the dirt, we spotted a lone turkey who was clearly not interested in making friends.

One of those roads where you slow down just because you don’t want the day to end.

Other than that, we had the trail almost completely to ourselves, with the exception of what looked like a dad—or maybe a granddad—taking his wild grandsons out on an adventure. They were hanging out the windows with huge smiles as we drove past, and it made me smile thinking they’re probably making memories they’ll still be talking about years from now. Before I could even finish that thought, Daniel started talking about how much the whole scene reminded him of his own childhood.

As the sun slowly started making its exit, we came across a herd of elk that kicked up almost as much dust as we did. We decided it was time to find a place to call home for the night. We both agreed we should stop while there was still enough daylight to at least get the Pack ‘n Play set up. 😉

The Pack ‘n Play was, and always is, the first thing that comes out of the truck. Soon we’ll be chasing our little one around the forest, but for now it’s the perfect addition to our camp setup. Our Yukon Gold collapsible trash can from Amazon usually comes out right after. It isn’t the flashiest piece of gear we own, but it might be one of the most practical. It folds flat, takes up hardly any space, and keeps camp from turning into a game of, “Where did I leave that wrapper?”

Not glamorous… just one of those pieces of gear that quietly earns its place on every trip.

The first night was the best kind of chill. We had chicken tacos that were, in my opinion, delicious, and discovered that Stevie is a fan of julienned bell peppers. I guess we can officially add those to the list of approved camp snacks. As I was finishing dinner in the dark, I also realized a Devos Light Ranger would have made camp life a whole lot easier.

Five-star vibe. Five-star tacos. One-star lighting. 😂

The next morning we were up early thanks to our 14-month-old alarm clock and started packing up. Daniel had noticed a clicking noise while we were on the trail the day before, so before heading out, we did a little investigating. We decided that whatever it was probably wasn’t going to affect this trip. If it did, his parents were meeting us in Williams later that evening for Father’s Day dinner, so at least we had a backup plan.

Once we got back on the trail, we saw more elk and two much larger turkeys who were just as uninterested in meeting us as the first one.

We may have found the campsite first… but this was definitely his neighborhood.

The trail eventually led us to the Grandview Lookout Tower. If you haven’t been, climbing the stairs is a pretty good workout, but the view from the top makes every step worth it.

From there we started the trail Daniel had mapped out using OnX Offroad. It was rated a 5–6 out of 10, but honestly I’d probably call it more of a 3 or 4. The only thing that really made it technical was the massive amount of sugar sand.

The trail looked harmless… until the sand started swallowing tires.

As I looked in the side mirror and watched the dust temporarily erase the trail behind us, my brain immediately started thinking about how miserable digging ourselves out would be. No camp shower was going to save us from that mess.

I mentioned exactly that to Daniel, and his response was, “Well… in your last blog you mentioned that recovery is what makes a trip memorable.”

He was being a smartass… but it got me thinking.

There are obviously the trips that take your breath away. The San Juans will always be one of those for us.

But then there are the trips you talk about around the campfire. The ones that take up permanent space in your mind. The ones that feel like you lived them just yesterday, but from a completely different perspective.

In the moment, your mind is usually focused on one of three things, depending on the role you’re playing: getting the problem solved, thinking, “Well… this puts a wrench in things,” or, “This is really going to suck when I have to deal with the fallout after this trip.”

Then a few months pass. Maybe a few years.

You make a few more memories with the people you experienced it with. The people you knew and loved then, but who have now become part of who you are.

Years from now, I probably won’t remember every mile of every trail but I will remember who was standing beside me.

Somewhere along the way, the struggle just doesn’t seem to carry the same weight anymore.

I don’t necessarily think that time heals all wounds. I think intentionality does. But I do think time softens the scars. It can move difficult memories into a much more peaceful place in your mind, where they’re remembered more for the people you shared them with than the problems themselves.

Maybe that’s why the trips where something goes wrong always seem to land the hardest. Not because they were miserable, but because they required something from us. We had to adapt, solve the problem, lean on each other, and keep moving forward. Looking back, the obstacle rarely becomes the reason we remember the trip—it becomes part of the story that makes it worth telling.

I’ve also realized that worrying has never once changed the outcome of a trail. Long before we ever reached the obstacle, the solution already existed—we just hadn’t seen it yet. Sometimes that’s recovery gear. Sometimes it’s the people you’re with. Sometimes it’s simply the perspective you gain because of it. Either way, I’ve found there’s a lot of peace in remembering that not every unknown has to be carried before you get there.

“Consider the ravens…” — Luke 12:24

That being said, somewhere in the middle of all that sugar sand, Daniel made the comment that getting stuck would make great content for my blog.

If I said my immediate response wasn’t, “If you intentionally get us stuck for content, I’ll be filming your recovery from inside the dust-free, temperature-controlled truck,” I’d be lying.

Love you… 😂

No matter where the trail takes us, the best part has always been who we get to share it with.

Yours Truly, The Tankesleys