My cousin had been telling me to visit Missoula for years.

For years, I found reasons not to.

Work. Life. Costs. Responsibilities. The usual excuses.

The truth is, there was always a part of me that wanted to hit the road and see the country. That idea had been sitting in the back of my mind since 1988, when I spent six weeks driving across the United States after graduating from college. Like a lot of great trips, it ended with me promising myself that someday I’d do something like that again.

Someday took close to thirty-five years.

In 2021, I finally decided to stop talking about it.

I bought a Dodge Caravan, converted it into a simple camper, and started taking test trips. Long weekends here and there. Enough to learn what worked, what didn’t, and whether life on the road was something I could actually do.

As I tested the van, one destination kept finding its way into my mind.

Missoula.

My cousin lived there and had been telling me to visit for years. If I was really going to try this van-life thing, driving from New England to Montana felt like a pretty good test.

So Missoula became the goal.

I left Portland, Maine with a rough plan to spend three months on the road and eventually make my way to Montana.

My strategy was simple.

Get west.

Fast.

If I wanted to visit places east of the Mississippi River, I could do that anytime. Those places weren’t going anywhere. The West felt different. The West felt like the adventure.

So I drove.

Two nights after leaving New England, I found myself standing at the Field of Dreams in Iowa.

That was my marker.

The place where I would finally allow myself to slow down.

I remember it being a beautiful afternoon. I walked out into the outfield, laid down in the grass, looked up at the sky, and exhaled.

After years of imagining a trip like this, I was finally doing it.

From there, the pace changed.

I stopped worrying about miles and started paying attention to the places I was passing through.

Eventually, I arrived in Missoula.

I was supposed to stay a couple of weeks with my cousins.

Like most good travel plans, it quickly became something else.

I spent my days exploring town, visiting breweries, playing disc golf, wandering wherever curiosity pointed me, and getting a feel for a city that seemed to fit naturally between mountains, music, and outdoor adventure.

One night I signed up for an open mic.

I hate playing in front of people.

That’s actually one of the reasons I sign up for open mics. Every time I do one, I’m hoping to conquer that fear just a little bit.

I was nervous.

My cousin came along for support, and somehow I survived.

Over the next couple of weeks, I started falling into a routine. Not a tourist routine. A life routine.

I found a local bar I liked and kept returning. I’d shoot pool, talk with whoever happened to be there, and before long I started recognizing familiar faces. Somehow, a group of strangers slowly became friends.

Then came my favorite Missoula memory.

On my last day in town, my cousin and I were walking through the farmers market when someone passed by and said:

“Hi Martin. Have a safe trip.”

My cousin started laughing.

I’d only been in Missoula for a couple of weeks.

Somehow, someone knew my name.

The funny thing is that I don’t even remember who it was.

I knew them from the bar. We’d talked a few times. I’ve been back to Missoula several times since then and never ran into them again.

But that’s not really the point.

The point is that for the first time, travel didn’t feel like a vacation.

It didn’t even feel like a trip.

It felt like living.

Looking back now, Missoula wasn’t the most dramatic stop I made during my years on the road. It wasn’t the most remote place, the strangest place, or even necessarily the most beautiful.

But it might have been the most important.

It was the place where I finally answered a question I’d been asking myself for decades.

Could I really do this?

Could I leave home, head out into the country, and build a life around curiosity, exploration, and the freedom to see what was around the next bend?

Missoula gave me my answer.

Yes.

A few years later, that answer would take me to 49 states, countless small towns, deserts, mountains, festivals, breweries, open mic nights, and more adventures than I ever could have imagined.

But it started here.

My cousin had spent years telling me to visit Montana.

Looking back, I’m glad I finally listened.

I was crossing New Mexico on Interstate 40 when a sign for El Malpais National Monument caught my attention.

Ancient lava flows.

That sounded worth a detour.

El Malpais National Monument: Ancient Lava Flows in New Mexico

A few miles later, I found myself standing atop Sandstone Bluffs, looking out across a landscape unlike anything I had ever seen. Below me stretched miles of black volcanic rock, frozen in place and spilling across the desert as far as I could see.

At first glance, it looked still.

But the longer I stood there, the harder it became not to imagine it in motion.

Thousands of years ago, this wasn’t a field of rock. It was a river.

Molten lava poured across the landscape, flowing around hills, filling low spots, and carving its way across the desert floor. From above, you can still trace its path. Here it narrows. There it spreads wide. In some places it appears to have pooled before continuing onward.

Standing on the edge of the bluffs, I found myself trying to picture what it must have looked like.

The glow.

The heat.

The slow, unstoppable movement of an entire landscape changing before your eyes.

Today, all that remains is silence.

The lava has cooled. The desert has reclaimed the space around it. Wind moves across the cliffs and the occasional traveler stops to take in the view before continuing on their way.

Most drivers on Interstate 40 probably pass within a few miles of El Malpais without ever seeing it.

I almost did.

Instead, I pulled off the highway and spent an hour wandering along the edge of an ancient lava flow.

Eventually I got back in the car and continued west.

The lava was still there when I left. The cliffs were still there. The wind was still moving across the desert.

For a little while, though, I had stopped long enough to notice them.

@travels_with_martin El Malpais National Monument, Grants, NM. #elmalpais #elmalpaisnationalmonument #lavafields #nationalmonuments #nationalmonumentpark #grantsnm #grantsnewmexico #explorenewmexico #visitnewmexico #travelswithmartin #vanlife #fyp #foryoupage ♬ Viva La Vida – Coldplay

I’ve visited Sedona several times over the years, and every trip seems to leave me with another story.

Sometimes it’s a hike. Sometimes it’s a chance encounter. Sometimes it’s simply finding a quiet place to sit and take in the view.

For me, Sedona has never been just another destination. It’s one of those places that seems to reward curiosity. The more I wander, the more interesting things I find.

On one visit, I woke early and headed up to Airport Mesa. The overlook was crowded with people talking and milling about. I found a spot that was as close to quiet as I was going to get, closed my eyes, and sat for a while just being…. trying to experience the moment despite the crowds. A few minutes later, when I opened them, everyone was gone. The entire mesa was empty, and for a few peaceful moments, I had one of Sedona’s most popular overlooks completely to myself.

Read the full Airport Mesa story here: Airport Mesa Vortex Energy

Another day led me to a fascinating sinkhole tucked away among the red rocks. I wasn’t looking for it. Like many of my favorite travel experiences, I simply stumbled across it while exploring.

Watch the video here: Sedona Sink Hole

Then there are the quieter memories: breakfast overlooking the red rocks, wandering trails without much of a plan, and those moments when the colors of the landscape seem almost impossible to believe.

A Few Things I’ve Created Inspired by Sedona

Travel has influenced much of the designs in my Etsy shop, and Sedona is no exception.

You’ll find designs inspired by the red rocks, desert landscapes, and the sense of adventure that keeps drawing people back to northern Arizona.

Browse my Sedona-inspired designs: Sedona Designs

More Sedona Content

If you’d like to see more:

• Sedona Pinterest Board: Sedona Pinterest Board
• YouTube Videos: My Sedona Videos
• Etsy Shop: Sedona Designs
• Travels With Martin on Facebook: A Hike in Sedona

Why Sedona Stays With Me

I’ve been fortunate enough to visit places all across the United States, but a handful seem to linger in memory long after I’ve left.

Sedona is one of them.

Maybe it’s the red rocks.

Maybe it’s the desert light.

Or maybe it’s the feeling that around the next corner, there’s another story waiting to be discovered.

There’s something about Sarasota that doesn’t try too hard, and Siesta Key Beach is probably the best example of that.

You make your way out past the entrance and it just opens up in a way that most beaches don’t. The sand is what hits you first… bright white, almost powdery, and so soft it doesn’t feel like typical beach sand. It stays cool under your feet even in the sun, and it stretches out wide and flat in every direction.

Then there’s the water. Most days it’s calm, clear, and easy…. not rough, not pulling at you, just kind of there waiting. It’s the kind of water you can walk into without thinking twice, hang out in for a bit, and then drift back to your spot without feeling rushed.

Even on a busy day, it never really feels packed. There’s always space to spread out, find your own spot, and settle in without feeling like you’re on top of anyone else.

It’s the kind of place where you don’t need much of a plan. You walk, you sit, maybe head down to the water for a bit, and before long you realize you’ve stopped thinking about what you’re supposed to be doing. The whole experience feels steady and unforced.

As the day moves on, the light starts to shift in a way that’s hard to ignore. The brightness softens, the colors warm up, and more people start turning toward the horizon without really saying anything. Sunset out here isn’t loud or dramatic… it’s quieter than that. It just kind of settles over everything, and for a few minutes, the whole beach slows down together.

That mix of soft sand, calm water, and wide open space is really what makes Sarasota stand out. It’s not about having a long list of things to do… it’s about how easy it is to just be there.

This design came directly from that feeling. Not just the look of the beach, but the pace of it… the space, the color, and the way the day unfolds without needing much from you.

You can check out all of my Sarasota designs here:
Travels With Martin Sarasota Designs