Are You Up for the 20-Mile Challenge?
Travel begins at home. Here’s how to see it like you mean it.
It started with a new road. Or rather, an old road I’d somehow never seen before.
One right turn off a two-lane blacktop I’ve driven a hundred times, and suddenly I was bouncing down a sun-bleached washboard track, wondering if my suspension could survive the curiosity. No trail signs. No Instagram geotags. Just a shimmer of heat, a silence so thick it pressed against my eardrums, and a cluster of granite boulders stacked like some kind of natural ziggurat.
I cut the engine. Looked around. Exhaled.
This wasn’t the Joshua Tree I thought I knew.
After years of desert living — smug in the belief that I’d mastered the lay of the land — I’d stumbled onto an easter egg. A place hiding in plain sight, camouflaged not by distance, but by routine.
The 20-Mile Rule
This is where my, (ahem), very scientific theory comes in: the 20-Mile Rule. That is, the best adventures are often less than 20 miles from wherever you’re sitting right now. They’re not hidden behind customs agents or at the end of a long-haul flight. They’re right here, quietly waiting for you to notice.
It’s easy to miss the magic close to home. I blame “destination bias” — that annoying mental reflex that tells us meaning requires mileage. That wonder has to be earned through jet lag, currency conversions, or TSA PreCheck. And yet, some of the most revelatory moments I’ve had took place within a short commute of my front door.
When You Stop Looking Far, You Start Seeing Close
My not-so-secret obsession is planning trips. But I’ll admit that I researched Icelandic hot springs while living 30 minutes from the therapeutic hot waters of The Good House. I searched for the perfect golden hour spots in Morocco while ignoring the watercolor wash that hits the Santa Rosa Mountains every evening.
Somewhere along the way, I’d internalized the idea that awe was an export. That adventure only counted if it came with a boarding pass.
But my recent experience in Joshua Tree reminded me that the familiar often holds the most surprises.
How to Practice the 20-Mile Rule
The beauty of local adventuring is that it demands less and gives more.
Start with a question, not a plan. What’s the weird rock formation you always pass on the highway but have never pulled over to see? What’s behind the gate that looks closed but possibly isn’t? What’s inside that kitschy roadside museum with the hand-painted sign?
Apply the 20-mile test. If you can get there in 20 miles (give or take), it qualifies. This isn’t about limiting exploration; it’s about lowering the bar for entry. Spontaneity thrives on simplicity.
You don’t need to know; just notice. Curiosity doesn’t require credentials. It only asks that you slow down, look closer, and let wonder lead the way.
What These Little Adventures Do
Here’s a secret: the small trips change you.
You start noticing more. Roadside shrines. Unmarked trailheads. The way desert air shifts before a rain. You build what I call “adventure muscles.” You get comfortable with curiosity. And when you do take that faraway trip — to Kyoto or Cappadocia or wherever you dream of going — you're better equipped to actually experience it, instead of just documenting it.
And it’s because you practiced paying attention.
Some Personal Greatest Hits
A few 20-mile standouts near my home:
World Famous Crochet Museum – A converted photo kiosk filled with crocheted tchotchkes. This unconventional roadside attraction gives nothing but joy.
Moorten Botanical Garden – A treasure trove of more than 3,000 species of cacti, succulents, and other plants on a classic Palm Springs property. I have a particular soft spot for the world’s first "cactarium,” an unusual desert greenhouse.
Rhythm of Life and Atlatl – This 2008 land art installation is the work of Australian artist Andrew Rogers, part of a chain of sculptures that span many countries and continents. Even though I drove past this installation for years, I didn’t see it until I climbed a nearby mountain.
Your Turn
So here’s my challenge to you: draw a 20-mile circle around where you live. Pick one thing inside it you’ve never done. Don’t research it. Don’t optimize it. Just go.
Because adventure doesn’t always wear a neon sign. Sometimes it looks like a turnoff you’ve passed a hundred times, a dirt road with no name, a place you thought you already knew.
And sometimes, all it takes to feel like a traveler again is to see home with fresh eyes.
Love this, Maggie. Have you read Alastair Humphrey's book The Doorstep Mile? It's about the same idea--that adventure is about attitude rather than distance.
So true. I live 10 miles from downtown San Francisco and, although I been here for over 30 years, I've yet to unearth even half its "travel treasures!"