On the way to nowhere, and not particularly close to anywhere, they require a special trip, one that I had been wanting to make for a long time. August presented the perfect opportunity with a Sprinter campervan to borrow and a Vipassana retreat in the vicinity to end the month.

I arrived on a Thursday, knowing that finding an available camping spot might be an issue. It turned out that arriving on Monday would have made no difference. All of the campgrounds in the popular Redfish Lake area were full and had been for a long time. Times like these, I realize that some planning could go a long way, but then again, that is much less interesting than playing with serendipity.

I continued beyond the town of Stanley and down the Salmon River. The first campground I came to had plentiful space. Also, it was way from the crowds, a bit cheaper, but still very close to the Sawtooths; it always works out, which continues to feed my aversion to planning. As well as other questions, such as: what if I end up wanting to stay somewhere for more than one night, or don’t like somewhere as much as I thought I would?

The Sawtooth area actually boasts many camping options. Aside from campgrounds, there is a massive amount of dispersed camping available, though it is regulated. You can only camp (for free) in areas designated with a specific marker and a fire pit.

The next day, as I headed up towards the Sawtooth Lake trailhead, I came across a designated dispersed camping area. It was tucked back from the road and along a creek. Since I had no idea where I would spend that night, I ran in for a closer look. Determining that it would be a perfect spot to spend what surely would be an even busier Friday night, I had a decision to make. My hike to Sawtooth Lake would be a nine-mile round-trip. The trailhead was two miles from where I stood. I had no way to save this spot for later, and it surely would not be available after an all-day hike, which meant that if I wanted to secure it now, I had to tack another four miles onto my hike. In the end, I decided that a longer hike was a small price to pay for having a free campsite secured.

As I began walking up the dusty, relatively busy road, I considered hitchhiking. It was obvious where I was going, and the road ended at the trailhead, so I would not even be putting anyone out. Yet I quickly realized that was a pipe-dream as I seemed unable to raise my thumb as one car passed me after another. I had only hitchhiked once before, with Serhii in Montenegro last summer. It became clear that for me, having a man along makes all the difference. I did wonder if I might be braver on my return journey, the dusty end to a long day hike. As it would turn out, I would not have to make that decision.

I was drawn to the Sawtooth Lake hike because I had read that it was what the locals considered “the quintessential Sawtooth wilderness hike”. Pretty quickly, I understood why. After a walk through a tree-lined valley, the trail gains elevation, and hikers are greeted with nearly 360° views of the iconic jagged peaks.

Shortly after I began the incline, I passed a girl resting along the trail with her dog. She looked defeated. We greeted each other, and she confessed that she had run out of steam and was looking for motivation. She asked if she could hike with me for a while. I was not excited about this prospect, but it felt rude to say no. With a few days before my Vipassana retreat was to begin, I was feeling the need to mentally prepare, and the energy required for this proposition did not seem to be a puzzle piece that fit. Mostly, I just didn’t want to have to adjust my pace and walk on a stranger’s terms. However, my better half prevailed; after all, random encounters with strangers often lead to interesting places, and being a bit less selfish is never a bad thing. I worked to switch my mindset as we set off, chit-chatting about a range of topics. When we parted ways several miles up the trail, she was determined to reach the lake.

After spending about an hour winding along Sawtooth Lake and consuming my picnic lunch while enjoying the sight of the deep blue water, I began my descent. Almost immediately, I came upon the girl and her dog. I accepted the obvious fact that I was clearly meant to hike with her and put up no resistance to walking the entire way down together. Nearing the trailhead, it dawned on me that she was also traveling by RV and surely did not park two miles away as I had.

As she dropped me off at my camper, I was once again humbled by how little decisions made throughout the day to go with the flow and work with, not against, what each moment is serving up often provide rewards in the most creative ways. I provided her with the companionship she needed, and she provided me with the ride I needed. The simplicity was divine.

Two days later, I culminated my time in the Sawtooths with a hike up to Hell Roaring Lake. This is a popular backpacking route and for good reason. The relatively easy hike provides some of the quickest and least physically demanding access to the backcountry. As I hiked through the many miles of forest that led to this scenic lake, I realized that my instinct to choose a lower-elevation hike over a more popular hike in the high country had served me well. Huge thunderstorms began rolling in, casting heavy rain, lightning, and thunder all over the area. I considered turning around until I noticed the clouds were headed away from my direction. Soon, the skies began to clear.

After enjoying a long, quiet lunch with the best of views, I began my trek back to the Sprinter, feeling every bit of the reality that this was the last hiking I would do for a while. Up next was a 10-day Vipassana retreat, followed two days later by my return to Norway, where I would spend the fall. The door to my summer of camping and exploration in America’s west was nearly closed, and even though that sparked some wariness, I felt eager for what magic was sure to come.