July 4th weekend is three days depending on where in the week it lands that year. Add a couple of days on either side and it becomes something worth planning around. I had an excess of PTO to burn anyway. When you accrue through maternity leave and bereavement leave and never stop earning, the hours stack up. I used them. I didn't ask.

One of my best friends lives in Durango. She has a son four months older than mine and they had never met. She had been inviting me out for the Fourth and I had figured out by this point that eight hours in the Jeep was doable. I had done Sequoia. I had the toy-tossing-over-the-car-seat move dialed in. The Jeep meant I wouldn't be stranded anywhere.

I said yes to Durango and then I added Sedona on the way because I was knee deep in everything woo woo at the time and Sedona seemed like exactly the right detour. Vortexes. Red rocks. I also wanted to prove something to myself about doing a full trip alone, beginning to end, no one to hand anything off to. I loaded the Jeep with the BOB, the backpack carrier, the cooler, the gear, and headed east.

I had apparently forgotten how hot the southwest gets in July.

I had also apparently not researched Arizona's position on baby changing tables, which is that they are not required by law. I learned this in real time. I perfected the backseat change, the trunk change, and the careful management of keeping a small body from touching car seat buckles that had been sitting in direct sun. He was walking by now, fully, and he had figured out quickly how to stand in the corner of a rest stop bathroom without touching anything or sitting down. I told him once. He got it. We had a system.

I had booked a Courtyard Marriott in Sedona. This was the beginning of a points journey that has quietly changed how I travel, but that story comes later. We went up to the roof when we arrived and the red rocks were everywhere, in every direction, in that late afternoon light that makes Sedona look like somewhere a story should happen. Then he got his wiggles out on the hotel room floor with snacks, and I grabbed a canned cocktail from the cooler and sat on the patio and watched the sun go down over the rocks and felt genuinely happy.

In the morning we hiked out toward the Airport Mesa vortex. Him in the carrier, water in hand. We hiked until it was too hot, which was faster than I expected, and then we sat in the shade on a rock until even that stopped working, and then we walked back to the car and sat in the blast of the air conditioning and drank water and I thought about how this was still the right call, even the part where we were melting. You recalibrate. You keep going.

One note on the carrier and the heat: the Osprey packs are excellent and I used mine everywhere, but there is no water bladder spot for anyone, adult or child. You are carrying a bottle for both of you. This is a real design gap and someone should fix it. Pack the water bottle, keep it where you can reach it, and start earlier than you think you need to when it's summer in the desert.

The drive between Sedona and Durango cuts through the reservations, through landscapes that go on longer than you expect and say nothing back at you. He slept for stretches and I listened to audiobooks. The ones I keep coming back to throughout my life: Siddhartha, Eckhart Tolle, Candide. Books to think with. Books for when you have something to process and miles to do it in. A long solo drive with a sleeping baby and an audiobook is its own kind of useful.

We arrived in Durango that night to the biggest hugs I hadn't known I needed. There is something specific about being with a friend who is in the same season of life. The toddlers, the gear everywhere, the swings and the snacks and the small ongoing negotiations with tiny people who have strong opinions. You don't have to explain any of it. You just walk in and it's already understood.

The next morning we hiked together, both kids in backpacks, through fields that opened up into the kind of views that make you remember why you would want to live somewhere near mountains. My son stared and smiled the whole way, which is what he does when he is somewhere he considers correct. We kept it mellow the rest of the afternoon and ended up at a local brewery with a grass area and tasters. The boys ran around. Nobody had to apologize to anyone.

The community pool in Durango deserves its own paragraph. I was not prepared for it. Indoor facility, kids play area, a tiny lazy river, and a two-story waterslide. My friend's son had already gone down the slide with her so we went too, my son and I, and he loved it. We worked on his swimming. This is the kind of thing you find when you actually go places instead of waiting until the conditions are perfect.

The next morning we took the BOB strollers out on the bike path along the river. Parks, swings, grass, the boys doing what boys do when you let them loose outside. That night the kids went to bed and we sat by the fire. Bedtime was an adventure, as it always is in a new place, and we were in it together, which makes it a story instead of a problem. You survive. You sit by the fire.

The last day we hiked in the mountains with the dogs. At some point my son decided he was done with the backpack and sat down in the middle of the trail and began collecting rocks with the total focus of someone who has found his purpose. There is nothing like a child on a trail. Everything is a toy. The joy is genuinely endless. We made it to the top and you could see the whole of Durango spread out below. What a place.

We ended the trip at a pub downtown. High chairs, pizza, kid snacks, wine and whining. A full and correct end to the visit.

On the way home I had planned to stop at the Grand Canyon but by the time we hit Flagstaff I was done with driving for the day. I booked a Marriott near downtown, more points. He sat in the open suitcase on the floor of the hotel room, which was his favorite place to be until he was around two, just climbing in and sitting there like it made perfect sense. We went downtown for dinner. I got a beer. He got french fries. It was good.

We made it home the next day. I had driven sixteen hours over two days by myself, with a not-quite-one-year-old, through the desert and the mountains and back again. I was proud of myself in a way that didn't need an audience. I just knew I had done it.

That's what the road trips kept teaching me. You load the car. You go. You figure out the rest on the way.

Notes: July 4th plus a couple of days of PTO becomes a real trip. Use the excess PTO you accrued through leave. Sedona in July is a morning-only situation, be on trail by seven and out before ten. Arizona does not require baby changing tables, adjust accordingly. Airport Mesa vortex is worth the hike if you go early. Osprey carrier is excellent, pack a water bottle for everyone since there is no bladder option. The Durango community pool is a genuine find. BOB on the river path. Marriott points add up faster than you think.