Day 39–54
Lee Vining, CA → Montrose, CO · July 5–20, 2026
The westbound half of the loop is done. From here the nose of the van finally points back toward home, and the road east turned out to be every bit as good as the way out — four national parks in two weeks, strung across high desert, an active volcano, bristlecone pines older than the pyramids, red rock canyons, and a gorge so deep and narrow it barely lets the daylight in.
Four new parks this leg brings the lifetime count to 26 national parks, plus one more entry for the Monuments & Landmarks list. Two weeks, four states, and the loop officially on its way home.
The drive to camp ate most of the day, but when I realized the campground was only fifteen minutes from Lassen, I pointed the van straight at the park instead of the site. Got about a quarter of the way in before the day ran out — just far enough to know I'd be coming back to do it right.
The real headline, though: Kaia and Piper saw snow for the first time in their lives. Kaia was instantly obsessed, diving into a leftover July snowbank like she'd been waiting her whole life for it. Piper, a Florida dog to her bones, took one look and wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.
Kaia's first snow. Piper stayed on the road, on principle.
Went back and gave Lassen the whole day — about five hours winding through the park, taking my time, stopping for every wildflower and overlook that caught my eye. With the pups riding along I kept the hikes short, but even the little ones were stunning. This is national park #23 for me, and one of the only places on earth with all four types of volcano packed into a single park — steaming fumaroles and bubbling mud pots included.
Couldn't do the long trails with two dogs, but the flowers made up for it.
A big driving day, and a slightly bittersweet one — lunch at Mountain Mike's Pizza, my last shot at it before leaving their corner of the map. I'm a fan; no apologies. Then came US-50, the "Loneliest Road in America," and it earns the name. Somewhere east of Fallon I did a double take at a half-mile stretch of desert where someone had spelled out the entire Preamble to the Constitution in stones — We the People and all — laid right out by the roadside. The sunset over that empty highway was one of the best of the whole trip.
The Loneliest Road, living all the way up to its name.
Two very different stops in one day. First the Ward Charcoal Ovens — six beehive-shaped stone ovens from the 1870s, tall enough to stand inside, and a good fifteen degrees cooler in there than out in the sun. Then up into Great Basin, national park #24, all the way to the Wheeler Peak overlook. A lovely drive, with purple wildflowers along the way that probably don't bother growing below 8,000 feet.
The day's other milestone: Piper decided the bed was a fine place to pee, so it was off to yet another laundromat. At this point I've spent enough on laundry to have just bought a washing machine.
Fifteen degrees cooler in the shade of 150-year-old stone.
A family of eleven lived in this one-room stone house — maybe 300 square feet, all told.
Felt like I drove forever, and then Capitol Reef appeared and made every mile of it worth it. National park #25. I took an absurd number of pictures — driving straight between towering walls of rock will do that to you. The orchard the settlers planted in Fruita is still tended today, and you can pick the fruit right off the trees. Reader, I picked the fruit.
You just drive right in between them.
Settlers planted it; the Park Service keeps it; I ate it.
The way in was the treat. I took Kebler Pass to reach Crested Butte — about twenty miles of dirt road winding through the mountains, and worth every washboard rattle. The high point, literally and otherwise: rounding a bend into hundreds of sheep just milling across the road, in no particular hurry to be anywhere. I wasn't either, so I sat and watched. One of those only-out-here experiences you can't plan for.
Then into Crested Butte for a full week — the longest I've stayed put in ages, and a very welcome breather.
Kebler Pass traffic jam. I did not mind one bit.
A check-up for Piper at the local animal hospital. She's seventeen and still bossing Kaia around daily, so I don't take a single one of these visits for granted.
Crested Butte bills itself as the Wildflower Capital of Colorado, and I timed the whole trip to land here for the festival. It hasn't been a banner year for the blooms, so instead of the Snodgrass wildflower walk I'd booked, we took a guided sunset hike up a trail called the 403 — about a mile and a half up the mountain for some really pretty light. Earlier that morning I'd dropped the pups at a daycare over in Gunnison so I could do a few of these adventures hands-free.
Not the bloom year they'd hoped for, but the light didn't disappoint.
Heads-down work days in the van — the unglamorous kind that quietly pay for all the park days. Part of the rhythm out here.
Saved the best Colorado stop for the end of the week. The drive over from Crested Butte was gorgeous on its own — I kept pulling over along Blue Mesa Reservoir to take pictures. Then Black Canyon itself, national park #26: a gorge so deep and so narrow that parts of the floor get only a sliver of direct sunlight a day. The Painted Wall — Colorado's tallest cliff at around 2,250 feet — is genuinely dizzying to stand over. Scooped the pups up from daycare on the way back, everyone happy and thoroughly worn out.
Couldn't stop stopping for this on the way over.
Deep, narrow, and a little vertigo-inducing — in the best way.
A short hop down to Montrose to reset for a couple of nights. Four national parks in two weeks, the van pointed east, and the loop officially headed home.