Chasing Wonder in Utah
A Week of Arches, Canyons, Rivers, and Campgrounds
A few weeks ago, after a pretty intense stretch of work, Bret and I packed up the TrekWeather mobile office (also known as our NuCamp camper) and headed for Utah.
We both work in software, and lately it feels like everyone in tech is operating at about 3x speed because of AI. Faster roadmaps, faster decisions, faster expectations, faster everything.
So after months of staring at Claude Code and Slack notifications, we did what we usually do when life starts feeling too loud: we drove west.
Arches: Quiet Campgrounds and French Walkie-Talkies
We left Evergreen just after a late April snowstorm, which meant after de-winterizing the camper, Bret had to keep it from freezing overnight as temps dipped into the teens. After an unseasonably warm and dry winter in Colorado with very pitiful snowpack, we were happy to see some snow on the ground.
Our first stop was Arches National Park, where we stayed at Devil's Garden Campground.
I was fighting off a cold for the first few days of the trip, so we kept things fairly mellow. Moderate hikes, slow mornings, coffee outside the camper, and quiet evenings watching the stars come out over the red rocks.
At night, the campground soundtrack alternated between complete silence and a large group of French children sprinting around with walkie-talkies while shouting in French. Honestly? Kind of delightful.
It was the end of April, and I expected both the park and Moab to feel packed and chaotic, but everything felt calmer than I remembered. Maybe spring break crowds had already passed through, or maybe we just got lucky. Either way, Utah gave us a surprisingly peaceful start.
Towing: A Lesson in Patience
After a couple nights in Arches, we headed toward Zion National Park.
The temperatures climbed quickly that day, and so did the wind. Pulling a camper into a strong headwind turns a normal drive into a very slow, mildly stressful exercise in patience, as literally every other car on the road passes you.
I was also taking my first turn at driving, which was my first time towing the camper (thanks Bret for usually being the pilot) so my nerves were a little on edge.
I was so focused on not accidentally launching our camper off the road that I completely forgot to check the gas gauge. We rolled into a gas station running on what felt like fumes and luck.
Then we got stuck waiting forever because someone (with Nebraska plates) had parked at the pump and disappeared inside the gas station. As someone originally from Nebraska, I feel qualified to say: this is an extremely Nebraska thing to do.
The closer we got to Zion, the more surprised we were by how developed everything had become. Bret had visited about ten years ago, and apparently the surrounding town has transformed into a polished outdoor tourism hub full of hotels, spas, trendy coffee shops, e-bikes, and very clean people wearing expensive matching hiking outfits.
Not exactly our vibe.
We picked up our permit for the Subway hike just before the visitor center closed. Bret had actually built a river flow gauge into TrekWeather before the trip because hikes like the Subway can become genuinely dangerous with rain or rising water levels. One storm upstream can completely change canyon conditions. Thankfully, the forecast looked perfect: unusually dry, warm, and stable.
That night at Watchman Campground, we immediately missed the quietness of Arches. More people, more noise, more activity. We pretty quickly decided we probably didn't need three full days there.
The Subway Hike: Just Follow the River
The next morning was absolutely beautiful. The Subway hike ended up being fairly challenging and fun: about nine miles of route-finding, river crossings, rock hopping, and trying to determine whether something was technically a trail or just "a direction."
For a while, we kept trying to avoid getting our feet wet. This was a mistake. The second we gave up and just started following the river directly, everything became easier.
The second we gave up and just started following the river directly, everything became easier.
Pro tip: unless you're doing this when it's cold outside (which I wouldn't suggest), you definitely don't need waterproof socks/shoes and waders like you'll see people wearing around the park (most of whom are hiking the Narrows). A pair of trail runners and hiking poles worked out just fine.
The hike felt adventurous in a way that's becoming harder to find in popular national parks. There were stretches where you actually had to pay attention, navigate, and think through your next move instead of simply following a paved line of people. I could also absolutely see how someone unfamiliar with off-trail hiking could get themselves into trouble out there.
Eventually the canyon narrowed into the famous tunnel-like formation that gives the hike its name, and it genuinely looked surreal. Now I kind of want to go back and do the technical canyoneering route someday.
We had heard dramatic warnings about cyanobacteria in the Virgin River beforehand, but the precautions were pretty reasonable: don't drink the river water, and maybe don't jump into it with open wounds. Good advice in general.
"Turbo Mode"
The next day we hiked toward Angels Landing before continuing farther up toward Cabin Spring, clocking in another 10+ mile day with quite a bit of elevation gain and some epic cliff dropoffs to keep us on our toes.
I have something Bret lovingly refers to as "turbo mode," which activates anytime there are too many people on a trail. I suddenly become extremely motivated to hike uphill at unreasonable speeds until the crowds disappear.
It honestly works pretty well. A few miles in, the trail emptied out and everything became quiet again.
That's usually my favorite part of hiking in Utah: once the noise fades out, the landscape starts feeling enormous and still in a way that's hard to grasp.
On the way back down we stopped at the Zion Lodge and later checked out a brewery in town, where Bret gave the extremely accurate review:
Great beer, not great food.
Capitol Reef: The Park That Feels Like a Secret
As beautiful as Zion was, we were ready to leave the crowds behind and head toward Capitol Reef National Park.
The drive there felt calmer almost immediately. I had visited Capitol Reef years ago by myself and remembered loving it. Bret had never been, but within about ten minutes of arriving we both had the same reaction:
Oh. This place is special.
Capitol Reef feels quieter, stranger, and somehow more personal than many of the larger parks.
The rock formations look almost alien in places. There are petroglyphs scattered throughout the park. And the Fruita area where the campground sits among green trees, orchards and the river is where I could spend many a days. And don't forget the famous Gifford House which serves up homemade pies, cinnamon rolls, ice cream, and fresh bread. Naturally, we bought and ate all of it.
Another "Easy" 10-Mile Day
We told ourselves we'd take it easy in Capitol Reef. Instead, we accidentally hiked another ten miles. Classic.
Utah will do that to you. I always feel calmer there, but also more energized. I want to stay outside as long as possible.
At one point, we wandered back through a wash, off the trail, and had a close-ish rattlesnake encounter, which immediately reactivated my turbo mode. Hard pass.
That night back at camp was probably the most peaceful of the entire trip. Huge credit goes to Bret here: the only reason we had campground reservations inside the parks was because he built a bot that monitored cancellations and alerted him when spots opened up, which was great given that everything had been booked six months in advance. Maybe that should be a premium TrekWeather feature? Having a guaranteed campsite when you're towing a camper results in much less stress for sure.
The week went by quickly, like good trips always do. Eventually, we packed up and headed back toward Colorado, feeling a little less fried, a little more rested, and reminded once again that nature is still one of the best reset buttons we have.
And maybe that's part of why we care so much about building TrekWeather in the first place. When you spend enough time outdoors, weather stops feeling like background information and starts feeling like part of the entire experience. River levels, wind, temperature swings, storms, snowpack: they shape where you go, what's possible, and sometimes whether an adventure is safe at all.
This trip reminded us why we love building tools for people who want to spend more time outside. Even if they occasionally forget to check the gas gauge.