(As I share these adventures, I want to pass along little nuggets (think of it like trail mix—food to sustain you for your journey) that you may enjoy—music, podcasts, recommendations, etc. Scroll below to see today’s Trail Mix recommendations).

It’s 10:00 p.m. as I sit in my bitching ARB awning room at Flaming Gorge, Utah, with Winnie sleeping at my feet. I’m eating out of a bag of cold pasta, drinking Pinot Noir from a can. (I’m such a class act).

Day 1 of the 50 in 50 for 50 is in the books . . . And what a day it was!

After getting a later than hoped-for start at around 10:30 a.m., I thought we’d be at our campsite around 5:15. Oh, how naive I was!

Did I happen to mention that this was my first time ever towing a trailer? Ideally I could have practiced a bit more, but that didn’t happen. The little Mountain Goat Trailer is actually pretty easy to tow; however, my Subaru Outback isn’t known for its giddy-up. So, despite that I’m definitely not even close to the towing capacity of 2700 lbs, my little Suby was like the Little Engine That Could along I-70 in the Colorado mountains. Every incline was a creep and crawl.

Plus, I felt like I was riding bumper cars. Every little bump, jiggle, pothole, etc., jostled the car and the trailer, making me think that something was about to fall off at any minute.

I white-knuckled and prayed my way 80 miles to Silverthorne and stopped to take a break. I hate I-70 on a good day . . . This added an entirely new dose of fear to that drive.

Once we got past Breckenridge, the drive started to improve and the steeps ascents and descents were no more. Driving dramatically improved once I passed Vail and, eventually, after three hours of driving with nothing but silence, the sound of my breath, and the creaking of the trailer, I finally felt like listening to music.

On the flatter roads, I finally found my groove and we were cruising.

We arrived at the Red Canyon Campground at Flaming Gorge around 7:00 p.m. But, it took me a good 20 minutes to get my little Mountain Goat Trailer parked. A nice older gentleman at the campsite on the other side of the road was trying to guide me. The whole effort went better than when I tried to park it in my drive way the other day, but I still need a lot of practice. I’m proud that I could provide some comic relief to my campsite neighbors.

Once I got the Goat parked, I walked Winnie along the rim of Flaming Gorge. The sun was setting and it was easy to see why this area is called Flaming Gorge.

Back at the campsite, I got to talking to the woman at the site next to me. Bridgette and her husband Stefan from Switzerland, who come to American every summer to RV. We had a lovely conversation about their adventures and their badass RV. Then I headed over to set up camp.

Setting up camp as a single woman is difficult. I ain’t gonna lie. Having another pair of hands would definitely help. But I just resign myself to the fact that everything not only takes longer when you’re camping, but it takes even longer when you’re camping by yourself.

So yes—I provide a ton of comic relief trying to figure out how to park the trailer and setting up my ARB car awning and room by myself. But . . . I DO IT! A little extra effort—and sometimes frustration—won’t get in the way of me enjoying myself.

Just as I was about to settle in with awning room with Winnie and eat my dinner, I wanted to take a phot of our badass campsite. I went in the trailer to turn on the outer lights with the solar power . . . But nothing. All the switches and the controller were black. No power.

I looked at the solar batter in the metal tongue box and couldn’t believe what I saw. By some weird twist of fate, a metal tool that I would need to lower the rear stabilizing jacks on the camper, had been placed on top of the solar battery (probably by Winnie). It must have created a lot of friction during the bumpy-ass drive, because the black metal post on the battery actually was melted onto the metal tool and had broken off the battery. The remaining metal connection was still live and the wires were sparking when they touched the connection. It’s truly a miracle that a fire didn’t start!

I was dumbfounded. I called the Mountain Goat folks and left them a voicemail . . . “Uh, I did some really crazy shit to the solar battery and it’s totally broken.”

Then I went over to Bridgette and Stefan’s camper to see if they had a wrench I could borrow to disconnect the other side (the red side) of the battery, so that it wouldn’t be live. (Because of course the ONE freaking tool I didn’t bring was a damn wrench!).

God love the Swiss, because Stefan had an entire toolkit and helped me unscrew the other side while I was on the phone with the Mountain Goat folks explaining how I messed up their trailer on DAY ONE!

Fortunately, it’s nice and cool here tonite so we don’t need power in the trailer to run the fan. And I have other batteries to charge my devices. (I highly recommend Jackery portable batteries).

And tomorrow, when I get to Twin Falls, Idaho, I’ll find an Auto Zone to hopefully replace the battery that I killed.

So . . . At the end of this bumpy day, I did it. I towed a trailer for the first time through the mountains of Colorado. Yes, I almost started a fire and broke the solar battery. But it’s totally fixable.

And Winnie and I are safe . . . That’s the biggest thing.

While I was white-knuckle driving, I noticed how focused I was. I was paying attention to my breathing and my body. I was laser focused on my driving and the other drivers around me. So, I decided to record a quick meditation when I got to the campsite so that you can learn to quickly plug into your body to focus, to calm your nerves, to notice what’s happening in your interior world . . .

Enjoy!

And here’s today’s Trail Mix:

What I’m listening to: Alaska by Maggie Rogers (seemed fitting for a road trip to Alaska); Let it All Go by Beats Antique & Preservation Hall Jazz Band; Beauty in the World by Macy Gray

Lessons learned: Don’t put metal shit on top of batteries. When doing something for the first time, it’s okay to be scared and nervous. Just remember to breathe, focus on your body, and stay tuned into what’s immediately around you. And definitely do something every day that scares you . . . You’ll feel like a badass for even trying. But, when things do go off the rails, get your bearings. Ask for help. Maybe find some gratitude for what’s going right—without disallowing what is going wrong. And, know that you get to start all over tomorrow with a new adventure!