When I woke up, the world around me was still dark. The car had grown cold in the last few hours. I snuggled deeper into my sleeping bag, wondering how much longer I had to rest.
Just then, the alarm on my phone began to blare. A small, internal grown escaped me. I shut off my alarm and allowed my head to fall back into my pillow, exhausted. Four o’clock had arrived far too early.
I pulled myself out of my sleeping bag as Joseph rolled out of his hammock. We cleaned up our campsite in silence and drove to a nearby gas station to get ready.
Our first and only stop today was Monarch Crest Trail at the Continental Divide, the site where mountains separate the rivers that flow into the Pacific Ocean from those that flow into the Atlantic Ocean. The sun was just starting to rise as we began hiking up the steep incline of the trail. We watched the light touch the tops of trees and the mountain peaks. The moon, which we have watched grow throughout our trip, sat just above the mountains in the distance, finally full and bright.
“Tyler, I have a feeling this just might be one of the best views we have ever seen,” Joseph said.
We were looking for a particular point Troy, a fellow hiker, had told us about yesterday. However, after three miles of walking, we still had not found it. We knew we must have taken a wrong turn, but today was the day we were supposed to begin our long drive back to Maryland, so we did not have time to search for it. I suggested we return to the car, but Joseph, who had a vision of the view he wanted to see, insisted we continue a little farther. After another half mile, it became apparent that we were not going to reach the top of the summit anytime soon, at least not by any conventional means.
The thing is, Joseph has never lead me on a conventional hike. When it became apparent there was not enough time to get to the point we wanted, Joseph turned instead off of the trail and straight up the mountainside. I followed him up towards the summit, scrambling over rocks and grass, my legs and lungs burning from the exertion. The mountainside was steep and the elevation was increasing rapidly. It felt as if there was not even enough air to sip on.
Just before I thought I would not be able to go any farther, the land began to level. Before I knew it, we were at the top.
The view was breathtaking, both literally and metaphorically. It was by far the best view we had seen during our entire trip in Colorado. Mist gathered beneath the peaks that stretched up towards the blushing morning sky. The pine trees basked in the bright sun’s glow while quarts crystals glistened beneath our feat. We were surrounded by land left nearly untouched by human hands, free to fully express its beauty without any constraints, and it was stunningly magnificent.
I could have spent hours at the top of that mountain, drinking in the arresting view. However, Joseph and I both knew our time in Colorado had finally come to an end. We had already extended our original trip, but this view was more than worth the time spent getting here. This was the epic Colorado finale that we never could have planned.
We stumbled back down the side of the mountain to the marked trail. I checked my watch, and I was dismayed to see that it was already the time we wanted to get back to our car, which we were currently 3.5-miles away from. Not wanting to waste any more time, Joseph and I both broke into a run.
Luckily, the trek up the mountain was far more difficult than the trip down. We sidestepped rocks and skidded down the dirt, letting the clean Colorado air fill our lungs and souls.
Just before reaching the bottom of the mountain, we met up with a group of bikers just beginning their journey. They asked us about our hike and how far we went. The entire trail is 13 miles, which we, unfortunately, did not have enough time to traverse today. We told them about the incredible view we did see, and our failed plan to start driving back to Maryland this morning at 7:30.
“Oh, I don’t think you’re going to make it,” one biker joked, glancing at his watch. The time was 8:15.
“Oh, really, I think we can do it,” I replied back with a laugh.
“Hey, we’re all Christians,” one biker said to the group. “Do you all mind if I pray before we get started?”
“Oh, wow, we’re Christians, too,” Joseph said. “Do you mind if we join you?”
So, we gathered with the bikers in a circle, our heads bowed and eyes closed. The biker who had invited us all to prayer spoke, thanking God for this opportunity for people from all over the world to gather in this place to appreciate His beautiful creation. I felt tears brimming in my eyes as I felt the love of God surge through that group of people, all from different places with different backgrounds, gathered in a place indicative of the magnificence of His handiwork.
The moment was over almost as quickly as it began. The bikers said goodbye and began their journey up the mountain as Joseph and I finished running down. We ate a quick breakfast at the car, bought a postcard and sticker to remember our experience, and then began our long drive.
Joseph drove the first four hours. We stopped at a gas station to fuel our car and our bodies, and then I drove the next few hours to another rest stop, where we bought coffee. We decided then to make another stop for dinner, and then to drive late so we could make as much progress toward our final destination as possible. While we drove, we sang along to our favorite songs, listened to podcasts, called family members, and began talking more about future nuptial plans. All the while, a sense of bittersweet contentment filled us. We are on our way home.
The last two weeks have been amazing, but every good thing must come to an end. We are tired and ready for real showers, comfortable beds, and good coffee we don’t have to pay an hour’s wages for. But we also know that returning home means the end to an incredible adventure and returning to lives where we live hours apart and have other responsibilities competing for our time and attention.
However, it’s the finitude of moments in life like this that makes them sweet. There is beauty in endings. I have learned so much about myself and my relationship with Joseph during this trip, and I am ready to use that knowledge in my everyday life. This is the end of one chapter, but it also the beginning of a new adventure that I am just as excited for.
Until then, I have two days left in the car to soak up every last moment of this journey.