I woke in terror and opened my eyes to green tubular objects floating toward me — string beans, or slow-motion bullets. I yelled, startling my husband. When I snapped out of it I reassured Dale, “It’s only what always happens.” Meaning: “It’s only because night terrors are my thing, not because I’m traveling to Juárez,” although that was precisely the problem. I closed my eyes and pictured my breasts exploding. I wondered what Dale would do if I were shot. It was too much to contemplate. I asked God to keep me safe, and fell back to sleep.

We took a bus to El Paso’s old-fashioned, brick-and-mortar downtown.

I woke a short time later to catch a flight to El Paso with my neighbor Mireya. Before I left the house, I removed my engagement ring. Mireya, who used to live in Juárez, said, “I’m glad you left your ring at home.” No point attracting robbers with a diamond, especially one with sentimental value. I still wore my wedding band, an instinct from younger days when traveling solo meant constant sexual harassment.

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Being open when we travel is like standing atop a cliff, enlivening but risky. One year ago tonight, friends and I celebrated my memoir with a release party. To mark that anniversary, I’m sharing with you a story that never made it into They Only Eat Their Husbands: A Memoir of Alaskan Love, World Travel, and the Power of Running Away…

THE LOWER 48
35 years old – near Rialto Beach, Washington

As I climbed the final steps to the promontory at Cape Flattery, the most northwest point in the Lower 48, a pair of hazel eyes looked into mine. The way he said “hi,” it was as if he’d been expecting me. “Hi!” I replied, smiling. We stared down at the noisy waves washing in and out of blue grottoes hundreds of feet below, and gazed out at the immeasurable expanse of water bearing down on the cape. The Pacific faced no obstacles from the horizon to this point, and its accumulated power was eating away at the green-draped cliffs atop which we stood.

We stared down at the noisy waves washing in and out of blue grottoes hundreds of feet below. (Dreamstime stock photo by Fallsview)

As comfortably as if we’d known each other for years, the stranger and I talked animatedly about the travels that brought us here. When I said I’d taken a swing-dancing lesson in Seattle, he said, “You’re kidding! You swing dance?” He grabbed my hand and swung me around atop the cliff, and my laughter entered the wind and waves. I felt the rock beneath us shuddering under the onslaught of surf.

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I prefer hiking Colorado’s thirteeners (13,000-foot-peaks) to its fourteeners, because they’re less crowded with peak baggers, yet equally beautiful and often just as challenging. The Herman Gulch trail to The Citadel kicked my butt, and I loved every moment. I was surprised to discover such a wild and untamed jewel so close to I-70.

Many hikers stop at Herman Lake, below Pettingell Peak. But after that it keeps getting better, as the jagged towers of The Citadel appear. The eight-mile round-trip hike took longer than my husband Dale and I anticipated, so I only made it to a patch of high rock just below the twin summits. Even from there, I had a stunning view of the Continental Divide. I plan to return to conquer both peaks.

It’s easy to drive to the Herman Gulch Trail from the Denver area. Take I-70 West and get off at exit 218, the next exit after Bakerville. Bear right on the .1 mile service road, which dead-ends at the trailhead. Here’s what you’ll see when you hit the trail:

Do you have a thing for waterfalls? If you’ve read my memoir, you know that my favorite hikes embrace “many waters and signs of water.” Bridal Veil Falls fits that description, and it’s as romantic a sight as the name promises. It’s more like many veils, trailing one into another. My husband and I enjoyed a picnic there last September. It was really just lunch pulled out of our backpacks, but the setting made it a picnic, a glorious feast for the eyes and ears. We needed real grub for our mouths, too - the hike is relatively easy, but it is six miles round-trip.

Bridal Veil Falls is just outside Estes Park in northeast Rocky Mountain National Park. Don’t worry, you don’t have to pay a fee. From Estes Park, head north on Devils Gulch Road for four miles, then bear left on McGraw Ranch Road for 2.1 miles to the Cow Creek Trailhead. I suggest going early, because parking is very limited and fills early. Take the Cow Creek Trail, which starts as a gravel road through the ranch’s research facility, empties into a meadow, then narrows into a single track that loosely follows the creek. Most of the hike is low and rolling, leading to a steep uphill push to the falls. When you think you’ve reached the falls, don’t stop - that’s only the beginning, as you’ll see in this video:

When I don’t have time for a long drive or stamina for an all-day hike, but I still want to get away somewhere pretty and enjoy a little workout, I almost always end up on a trail in Boulder. The three-mile Mount Sanitas Loop is close to downtown, but its lovely views encompass plains, foothills, and a glimpse of the snow-capped giants of the Rocky Mountains. It’s a pleasant, if hot and breathless, way to get up-close and personal with rock and sky, and watch civilization become far and wee.

It’s easy to find the Mount Sanitas trail: in Boulder, take Broadway to Mapleton Road and turn west. The trailhead is a few blocks up, just past the Mapleton Medical Center. You’ll pass the trailhead and roadside parking on the right. But I recommend parking in the lot at the Centennial trailhead, just a stone’s throw up the road on the left. From there, a dirt path takes you back to the Mount Sanitas trailhead, as you’ll see at the beginning of this video of the hike my husband Dale and I did this summer:

A couple of weeks ago, my husband Dale and I went on my favorite Colorado hike. It’s an 8.4 mile roundtrip up the South Boulder Creek Trail to the creek’s headwaters at Rogers Pass Lake, and then on over a small saddle to Heart Lake. Thanks to record snowfall this past winter, this summer’s wildflowers have been more plentiful than ever - and in the James Peak Wilderness that’s saying something. In fact, this hike has all my favorite features: lively streams and waterfalls, prolific flowers, an uphill workout that’s not a painful trudge, a combination of shady trails and sunny meadows, craggy mountains circling glacial blue lakes, and nary a view of town or road.

The trail starts at the East Portal of The Moffat Tunnel at about 9,211 feet and climbs to 11,310 feet. To reach the trailhead, take Rollins Pass Road west from highway 72 at Rollinsville. The 8.2-mile dirt road dead-ends at the tunnel. Check out this two-and-a-half-minute video to see why it’s worth the trip:

Hiking to Heart Lake - James Peak Wilderness, near Rollinsville, Colorado from Cara Lopez Lee on Vimeo.

“Endings are hard.” That’s what my friend Eileen once told me. She writes sitcoms, but I find that her quote applies to just about anything. When I got around to writing about the final week of my book tour for They Only Eat Their Husbands, I was already home and couldn’t bring myself to finish.

The road trip itself was difficult to finish. As on many treks, I was tired but not ready to stop.

The road trip itself was difficult to finish. As on many treks, I was tired but not ready to stop. As with many stories, I knew it had to end, but wasn’t sure what it all meant.

Let’s see, shall we?

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On every journey, I pick new things up and leave old things behind: belongings, attitudes, friendships. I love Alaska so much that it wasn’t until after my talk in Bellingham, Washington that I realized something had dislodged inside me on my last visit to the Last Frontier.

I had fun talking with the small but enthusiastic group at Village Books.

I had fun talking with the small but enthusiastic group at Village Books, yet my insides felt chaotic. I wondered why. Part of it was due to something I normally wouldn’t talk about here, but then, I suppose this is the perfect place to talk about it…

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If I were a visual artist, I’d draw my book tour for you in a series of sketches: half-finished lines and curves full of electric highs and exhausted lows, the faces of old friends softened by nostalgia, the faces of new friends clarified by discovery.

My friend Angie and I became rock ‘n roll groupies for Lukas Nelson & The Promise of the Real.

Thursday night in Seattle, my friend Angie and I became rock ‘n roll groupies for Lukas Nelson & The Promise of the Real. Off my itinerary, I was headbanging and swaying like a smitten teenager, as Lukas and his band tore up The Showbox.

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This story ends at the Seattle talk show New Day Northwest, where I appeared right after musician Lukas Nelson, son of Willie Nelson, and a unique talent in his own right. I’d never heard him before and I was impressed:

Lukas Nelson is the son of Willie Nelson, and a unique talent in his own right.

How did I get here?

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