Waking up on the sixth morning in Zion, I knew once again I needed to get back on the road. Still no plan on the next stop, I opened my phone and saw that an old friend was just in Vegas and I sent a message saying I was just there and we missed each other. She replied, "Well, I'm in Durango now if you happen to be in the neighborhood". At this point, if it's a half a days drive then you're "in the neighborhood". She was traveling/living out of her van at the time, staying at a friends house (using their driveway for camp) and they too were people that lived on the road. They said I was more than welcome to stay if I could make it up the mountain on the gravel road to there house. Thankfully we made it just a couple hours before sundown.
That night we sat out by the fire with our dogs, drinking our drink of choice, and trading stories from the road. Each of us just as excited to hear a story as we were to tell our own, we sat around painting pictures with our words. Our vehicles were parked together on the gravel drive behind us, sitting just outside the glow of the fire as if they were listening in on the stories they were all apart of. Each vehicle with the personality of its owner, I found you could learn a lot about someone just by looking in their van/truck, and I had a lot to learn from each of them. One of the guys worked and lived on the road out of his truck for two years, the others go off on trips weeks or months at a time with their home on wheels. Sharing something like this in common creates a respect and bond that not too many people understand. That was a great welcome to Durango and I just rolled in.
No plan for the next day. So for the next couple days I contemplated...maybe I'll stay, or maybe I'll go. I guess I'll just wait to see what the day brings in the morning.