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It seems like the novel coronavirus is not going anywhere soon, so we have all been tasked with finding ways to navigate this “new normal.” For travel enthusiasts, like me, that can be a difficult task considering the amount of risk and restriction associated with travel. Airports are practically a breeding ground for the virus, and every country and state has different mandates about how and when people are allowed to visit.
It is recommended to stay at home as much as possible unless travel is essential, but sometimes, we all need to step outside of our homes for our own mental health. If that’s you, consider using these tips to keep your travels as safe as possible.
1. Do your research
Research your own state’s laws and the laws of the state or country you are planning to travel to. Know what the restrictions are and what is required of you, such as having an extended quarantine when you arrive at your destination or after you return home. If you can limit your travel to within your own state, that’s even safer, and it can be more realistic if you can’t take the time off to quarantine from your job.
2. Wear a mask
Joseph and me on a main street in Leesburg, Virginia, where we were visiting Joseph’s sister, Jo, and her husband, Dan
Whether your state or the place you are visiting requires it, wear a mask. The most recent research shows that this protects not only the people around you, but yourself as well. Make sure the mask you are wearing is approved by the CDC, and please wear it over your mouth and nose. Both your mouth and nose lead to your respiratory system, so there is absolutely no point in leaving your nose exposed.
If you can, avoid international travel or travel to faraway states that requires a plane ride. Airports pose a much larger risk of contracting and spreading the virus than your own vehicle. If you can stay within your own state, even better. But if you want to travel out-of-state, consider the idea of road tripping there. The great part of this is driving to your destination enables you to see more of the scenery and to stop at other places along the way that seem fun or interesting. Make a road trip playlist (or use mine below) to listen to some entertaining tunes along the way.
4. Keep your hands as clean as possible
Wash your hands frequently, and keep a bottle of hand sanitizer in your car for times when you can’t. Keeping your hands clean dramatically reduces your chance to contracting and spreading the virus. And remember, even when you think your hands are clean, do NOT touch your face!
5. Stay away from other people as much as possible
If you are traveling simply to get out of the house, consider alternatives to hotel stays and popular tourist attractions. Hiking, fishing, and other outdoor activities are great alternatives to walking busy streets. Consider packing your own food or getting takeout rather than dining at a restaurant. And while the weather is still warm, camping can be a more affordable and safer alternative to hotel stays.
Traveling to other places is fun, but it only seems worth it when you really get to experience those places. The good news is that the tourist attractions are often not the best way to achieve this – the best way to experience a place is to go where the locals go. So, again, do your research. Make a list of the places you want to visit and things you want to do that are low-risk, such as visiting national parks, scenic points, local eateries that are offering carry-out, and main streets in small towns.
7. Get tested for COVID-19 when you come home
Whether your state recommends it or not, a safe step you can take at the end of your trip is getting tested for COVID-19 as soon as you return and quarantining until you get the results. Waiting to interact with other people until you know you’re safe can help prevent the spreading of the virus to dozens of people. It’s always better to be safe than sorry, so if you are willing to take the risk of traveling, consider making sure that you are the only one who experiences any potential consequences of that choice.
Traveling can be a great way to take care of your mental health and get active in your daily life, but during times like this, it should always be done with caution and forethought. Don’t stop living life, but make sure when you do embark on any adventures, you are doing so safely for yourself and others.
Today was supposed to be our first day driving back home. We were going to stop by Omaha, Nebraska to spend a day there, and then we planned to slowly make our way back to Maryland. Instead, we are spending two more days in Colorado, and I could not be more thrilled.
Our first stop today was Cheyenne Mountain State Park. We didn’t have enough time to hike the mountain itself, so we chose a 6.3-mile trail that still promised great views and a decent elevation.
The trail wound around itself, leading us through unnecessary loops in the hot sun. Our exasperation mounted when we discovered that we had made a wrong turn and we had to backtrack a quarter-mile.
We were both relieved when the trail led us out of the grassy field and into the cool shade of the trees. A distant thundercloud grew closer, giving us a cool breeze and protecting us from the sun’s rays.
Unfortunately, the views from below the mountain were not spectacular, so we focused more on our conversation than our surroundings. We talked about future plans, both growing more excited by the minute. When we had the chance to turn back, we decided to hike a little longer to finish out the loop. By the end of the hike, we were both exhausted but felt accomplished. Our hike had extended over an extra two miles and had taken up over three hours of our day.
We ate lunch at a picnic table in the park, and then we headed to downtown Colorado Springs. We bought lattes and strolled as we sipped. The sidewalks were crowded with people, many of whom seemed to have forgotten that there is a pandemic. Joseph and I were two of the few people wearing masks. We dipped into a few shops, but there were not many that sparked our interest, so we left soon after and headed to Pikes Peak, one of Colorado’s 14ers (mountains in Colorado with an elevation of at least 14,000 feet) and the spot that inspired the song “America the Beautiful” by Katherine Lee Bates.
As we drove up the windy mountain road, I saw something that awoke the child at heart in me. We found Santa’s workshop.
The North Pole near Colorado Springs is really just a small amusement park (which was, unfortunately, shut down when we visited) and a gift shop. Despite this and Joseph’s exasperated reminders that it was July, I still felt so joyful surrounded by Christmas trees and sweaters.
After perusing the shop, Joseph and I continued the drive up the mountain as the first few drops of rain fell. The distant thunder cloud from this morning had finally reached us.
We reached the gate for Pikes Peak, where the attendant told us it would cost $15 per person. The price seemed a bit steep, even for such a tall, majestic mountain. Besides this, the rain was beginning to fall more earnestly, and the attendant told us if it got any worse, the mountain would most likely be closed. Not wanting to pay the money if we wouldn’t even get the reward of the view, we decided to turn back and drive down the mountain.
It was a good choice. Just as we reached the parking lot of Santa’s workshop, the light rain turned to a downpour, and then a hailstorm. Joseph and I stared as marble sized pieces of ice pelted our windshield.
We decided to start the drive to Salida earlier than expected. That, too, was a smart choice because traffic slowed our progress. When we did arrive, it was still raining, so we tied our tarp to nearby trees to create a makeshift shelter. Underneath this, we made dinner and set up camp.
Nothing today went according to plan. It was filled with impromptu choices and adventures. But that’s okay, because this entire day was an impromptu choice, an unexpected part of our impromptu road trip adventure. Planning is great, and I am glad we planned as much as we did for this trip because it made it possible for us to visit so many amazing places and see so many beautiful views. Sometimes, though, the best days are days like today, when nothing goes according to plan, but the journey itself and the good company make it more than worth it.
I had forgotten how amazing it felt to sleep in a bed. I woke up huddled in blankets, my head gently rested on a pillow, my body cuddled by the mattress. For the first time in over a week, I felt well-rested, and I started my day without any aches and pains.
Joseph and I both showered to take advantage of the luxury of indoor plumbing while we still had it. Then we packed up our belongings and returned to our road trip lifestyle as if the last 18 hours of lavish comfort had never happened.
Our plan for today was to spend the entire day in the city we had been most excited to visit – Denver. Before we left, I searched for the best coffee shops in the area. We chose to go to Huckleberry Roasters (Huck), even though the reviews said it was pricey, because, with its two U.S. Roaster Championship awards, it is supposed to be one of the best places to get coffee in the country. The cafe, like last night’s restaurant, was somewhere we never would have found had we not been looking for it. It was outside of downtown Denver, just on the outskirts of a neighborhood. The storefront had a brightly painted mural that attracted the eye, but never would I have known by the appearance that it was supposedly the best coffee in the city. Joseph and I each ordered an iced latte and sat at a picnic table in front of the store.
All our expectations were met. The coffee was a tad over-priced – six dollars for a latte is a bit much – but it was the best we had ever tasted. The milk was steamed to a silky perfection that blended smoothly with the richness of the espresso. Satisfied, we headed to City Park for a late morning walk while we sipped on our coffee.
It was hotter than we expected. As we walked around the park, sweat poured down my forehead and pooled in the crease of my elbow that was bent to hold my drink. All we managed was a short stroll before deciding to head downtown, hoping the shops would at least provide some air conditioned relief.
Our first mission in the city was to find a restroom, which was a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. Denver began to lose its magic after thirty minutes of searching without any luck. We finally stumbled along some public restrooms in the downtown mall, but we needed a code to unlock the doors. To obtain this code, we had to purchase an item from a local shop; then the cashier would reveal the secret numbers to us.
At this point, we were both losing patience. Luckily, someone exiting the men’s bathroom held the door open for Joseph, and just as I was about to give up, a friendly custodian, who must have seen the desperation in my eyes, unlocked the women’s bathroom door for me.
By now, Joseph and I were hungry for lunch, so we sat on a bench in the mall and ate the picnic we had packed. Once our stomachs were full, we began to peruse the shops.
Last night, driving through Denver, I had felt that magnetic energy I had experienced last summer. Gazing up at the lights, I was enamored once again by the dynamism of the city set against the beautiful backdrop of distant mountains. But today, amid the current climate of the pandemic and recent riots, Denver revealed itself to be a city like any other. We were approached by people desperate for money, and people far too high to remember why they approached us. Many of the shops were closed, some temporarily and others permanently, including the bookstore I had fallen in love with last summer, where two locals had written personalized poem just for me. Glass windows of shops had been boarded up and graffitied. The hashtag GEORGEFLOYD appeared everywhere, from spray-painted murals to electronic billboards flashing down at us.
Despite how separated we have felt during this trip from the tragedies and challenges of the last few months, we have not escaped the troubling lives we left behind. In less than a week, we will be back in Maryland, and I am sure our lives will go back to the way they were before. Nothing will have changed.
My only hope is that we will come back changed. I hope we return to our lives more compassionate, more worldly, more empathetic than when we left. I hope we will have more perspective about the current state of affairs in this country, and perhaps that will help us to know better how we can serve those around us. The reality is that the world around us has not changed, but that does not mean we cannot bring change to our personal realities.
When we reached the end of the 16th street mall, we sat on the steps of a closed store to rest and figure out where we wanted to go next. To our immense disappointment, we discovered the fireworks scheduled for tonight were cancelled. Just in the last week, Denver decided not to encourage any more crowds than were already congregating. Our original plan was to see the fireworks tonight as a finale to our trip in Colorado, and then we would take our time driving back to Maryland. However, we decided it was more important for us to see the fireworks in this state than to spread out the driving time during our trip back.
So, sitting on those steps in the heart of Denver, we decided to extend our time in Colorado by two more days, and we began to plan which attractions we wanted to add to the trip. We found a fireworks show in Salida (which is, ironically, where I saw the fireworks a year ago), so we based our itinerary on that.
We headed back to the car, nervous but excited about our new plan. The first thing that needed to happen to make this extended trip work was we needed to buy more food. There was enough to fuel us for a few days of driving, but not for days of hiking and other, more strenuous activities. We stopped by a Walmart on our way to Colorado Springs to pick up food and finally reach a resolution to another important journey we have been on: the hunt for low-FODMAP ice cream.
I have been craving ice cream since this trip began, and I reached my breaking point last night after dinner. We had stopped at gas stations, supermarkets, and ice cream shops last night and earlier today, but we had not had any luck. However, in the frozen section of Walmart, we found one, small ice cream bar that I could eat. Bolstered by this, we drove to the same Bass Pro parking lot we had stayed at a few days ago, where we hurriedly made dinner. As another treat for ourselves, we had bought a small bag of shrimp to eat with the rice we had packed for the trip. It was a nice change from the canned tuna and chicken we have been eating for days.
By the time we ate the ice cream, it had melted to the consistency of a milkshake, but it was still just as tasty as it would have been frozen.
Joseph set up his hammock while I prepared the back of the car for me to sleep. The night spent in a bed seemed like a distant memory. But, as I laid down to rest, I couldn’t help but think of how privileged I am. I, too, have struggled during this pandemic because of my compromised immune system and a lack of work, but I have been blessed with an incredible support system that has helped make sure I have been taken care of. I am not wanting for anything. And while some people are worrying about food, illness, and riots, I am on a road trip in one of the most beautiful states in America with my fiancé. While some people are facing challenges simply because of the color of their skin, I am on the adventure of a lifetime with a beautiful ring and a future full of opportunity waiting for me when I return home.
The world has not changed. I realize that this road trip is a blessing, that all of the inconveniences, difficulties, and challenges we have faced during it are nothing in comparison to what many people face in their daily lives. I know that the challenges I have always faced in my life, from being a woman, from struggling with chronic illness since the age of 10, from simply being human, cannot compare to what other people have experienced.
But I have changed on this trip. Even in these short 11 days, I have grown and matured, and I have gained new perspectives of this world around me. I have learned more about myself and others, and I have grown stronger. I am ready to return home and find where I belong to do good in this world. There is so much in me that I am ready to share; this blog is just a start.
Once again, Joseph decided to terrify me as soon as we woke up.
“I didn’t want to wake you last night,” he said, causing me to feel a strange sense of déjà vu from the beginning of our trip. “I heard bears all around our tent last night.”
“What?” I exclaimed.
“Yeah, I actually heard one as soon as we got here last night, but I didn’t want to scare you so you could fall asleep,” Joseph said. I had heard footsteps last night, too, but Joseph had assured me it was just the people camping beside us.
Luckily, our campsite was untouched. I was still exhausted, not because I had been up all night afraid of the bears searching for our food, but because I had been awake for much of the night trying to get warm. Up in the mountains just outside of Boulder, the air was frigid and the wind cut straight through the tent to where we had been sleeping. I normally sleep only with a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt, but last night I had worn a pair of long johns, an Under Armour shirt, a long-sleeve running shirt, pajama pants, a hoodie, and a hat, and I was still huddled in a ball shivering in my sleeping beneath two extra blankets.
I had a morning Zoom meeting, so we headed to a Dunkin’, where Joseph bought me some espresso so I could focus. After the meeting, we headed into Boulder to hike Green Mountain. It was a baby mountain – half the height of the mountain we trekked just a few days ago – so Joseph and I felt relatively relaxed while trekking up.
Breakfast before our morning hike up Green Mountain
Despite the lower elevation, the view was still stunning. Butterflies encircled us as we climbed the last final feet up a steep rock. Below us, the city of Boulder sat, and far above, taller mountains striped with snow dared us to hike higher.
After spending minutes just soaking in the view, we started our trek back down. Near the end, we were passed by a woman wearing short shorts and tennis shoes. What I mean by that is she was only wearing only short shorts and tennis shoes. Joseph and I said “hello” as she passed. We both walked a few more paces before Joseph finally looked back at me, his eyes posing the question we were both waiting to ask: “Did you just see what I saw?” As I recalled her appearance, my inner eye automatically tried to put a shirt on this young woman because her lack of clothing seemed so strange to me.
But why did it seem strange? Men walk past me all the time without a shirt on, and I don’t even blink in their direction. And in movies and other media, I see scantily clad women all the time, even more often than I see their male counterparts. I also know how it feels to be a woman, to be out in the heat, perspiring through my shirt as the men I am with peel away their sweaty clothes with relief. It seems unfair.
It is interesting how the fundamental values and world views that we are raised with are something we take for granted. We expect what is common knowledge to us to be common to everyone, when that just simply isn’t true. One thing I learned while at Stevenson University is that common knowledge is anything but common, as are my limiting world views created by my own upbringing.
In some ways, I almost envy this woman. She had a confidence about her that I have never known. By covering my body all my life, I have been taught to be ashamed of my curves and womanly features that are supposed to make me beautiful.
Would I ever go hiking topless? Probably not, for many reasons, one being that I was raised to value modesty, and that means wearing a shirt, and also because I sunburn rather easily and that sounds terribly uncomfortable. But do I judge this woman? No. We may have differing opinions, but we are both human and just simply trying to enjoy a hike in the way that makes us feel most comfortable.
After our hike, Joseph and I ate a quick picnic lunch and then headed to downtown Boulder. We walked the brick-laden main street, perusing shops and stepping into those that piqued our interest. Joseph bought a hat, and I bought a sticker to commemorate our experience. We visited a chocolate shop, where he ordered a peanut butter truffle and I got a piece of dark chocolate coconut candy. Our favorite spot was a bookstore that has been a staple in Boulder since 1973. The Boulder Book Store spans three floors with books covering nearly every inch of it. Joseph and I eagerly explored, lingering over the most interesting titles and taking in the beauty of the classic ballroom filled with twisting plots instead of people.
After we had walked the extent of main street, Joseph and I settled ourselves on a park bench to relax and plan our last two days in Colorado. I cannot believe this trip is almost over. Just two weeks ago, road tripping to Colorado was merely an idea in our heads, and now, here we are, just an hour outside Denver, the city we have both been dreaming of returning to.
As we took in the sights from that park bench, a man wearing what looked like faded, classic Arabian clothing and with bells tied around his neck sat on the patch of grass in front of us. After taking a long draw from the thickly rolled cigarette in his hand, he shook himself and began to move his hands and body in a way I can only associate with tai chi.
My shirt is from End Hunger in Calvert, a cause that is dear to my heart. Their mission is to provide food and self-sufficiency to food insecure individuals in my hometown. Check out their website at https://endhungercalvert.org/.
Admonishing myself for staring, something my mother always chided me for, I couldn’t help but watch this man, wondering what his story was, where he came from, and what exactly he was currently doing. Luckily, I don’t think anyone considered what I was doing as rude – just about everyone around could not help but glance over every once in a while, and the man himself seemed to take little notice to any of us.
It was getting late, so Joseph and I returned to our car and began the drive to our first campsite choice. It was a long, rocky dirt lane, filled with bumps and craters that threatened Joseph’s Mazda at every turn. As we drove farther into the site, it became clear that there were no open spaces left, but we were much too far in to consider turning around. Cringing, we continued driving down the road that looped around the campground, scraping up the bottom of the Mazda and often checking fearfully in the rear view mirrors to make sure we did not leave any car parts behind.
Luckily, we left the campsite with just a few scrapes but no serious damage. Discouraged, we drove another twenty minutes to where we camped last night. The loneliness of the site and the threat of bears had made us want to find a new place to sleep, but by now, the sun had set behind the mountains and we were running out of options.
We parked at the lowest site to be closer to the road and farther from the forest. I suggested that we sleep in the car because it would be warmer and safer, and to my surprise and relief, Joseph agreed.
When we exited the car, we found a harsh wind had blown in since we left Boulder. It sliced through our clothes, leaving us both shivering and scrambling to get out of the elements as fast as possible. While I cleaned out the back of the car, Joseph made us dinner (tuna and chicken melt sandwiches). We turned on the heat in the car and ate in the back. Then we laid out our sleeping bags and settled in for another cool night in bear country.
Thinking back over my day, I couldn’t help but remember the two most interesting characters. Unfortunately, I don’t have names for either of them, and I don’t want to refer to them by their most obvious characteristics, so I will just call them “hiking woman” and “Boulder man.” I couldn’t help but wonder, once again, what their stories were. One of my favorite parts of traveling is all the incredible, interesting people I meet who are so different, and yet so similar, to myself. We are all human. I wish I had taken the chance to have a conversation with the hiking woman or the Boulder man. I honestly wish I had taken the chance to talk more to many of the people I have come into contact with on this trip.
We are all people. As I’m writing this, I can’t help but think, with everything going on in the world right now, how often I have heard this message, and how little it seems to be sinking in. We are all human. We all have rights. We all deserve respect, love and understanding. We all desire to be heard, seen and valued, and one way we can gain self-respect and love is to extend that patience and kindness to others.
I will expand this message with one more. We are just human. This has two meanings: One, we are not perfect. We will make mistakes; sometimes we will be the toxic person that someone cuts out of their life. The important thing is to recognize where we have failed to love others well and then seek to better ourselves.
And two, because we are just human, it is not our job to judge others. It is not our job to tell others if the way they are doing life seems wrong to us. It is our job to love others, just as they are.
Travel reminds me of my humanness. It reminds me of what my basic needs are and what I truly desire in life. It reminds me of my limitations and my strengths.
Most importantly, travel reminds me that there is so much more to life that I know, and it is all there for me to experience if I am willing to do so with an open mind and heart.
I woke up to the car door opening, which, under normal circumstances, would be alarming, but I knew instinctively who was entering. Joseph laid down in the backseat beside me and held me close to him.
“Tyler,” Joseph called quietly. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, waiting.
“I had the conversation with myself,” he said, “and I’ve had it many, many times before. I can’t imagine doing life without you. I can’t imagine losing you.”
Yesterday’s conversation was rough, but I wouldn’t trade it for how I feel in our relationship now. Everyone gets “cold feet” after a big life decision, and getting engaged is one of the biggest decisions either of us have ever made. Yesterday’s conversation was the culmination of a long trip with little sleep and the doubts creeping in that everyone has but no one ever talks about. Now on the other side of that conversation, I feel that our relationship is even stronger than before. Our relationship is so much better because we were willing to be transparent with how we felt and to share our doubts and fears with one another. From this point on, we can grow together.
Relationships are hard. I believe the key to making them just a bit easier is open communication. Yesterday’s conversation is actually one of the reasons why I am so confident in my relationship with Joseph and in our future together. We talk about everything. We are always honest with one another, and our communication is always focused on solving the problem and communicating with transparency and kindness, not in winning the argument. I know yesterday was not the last time we are going to have a tough conversation, but I am confident that, when future struggles arise, we are going to work through them together and our relationship will only become stronger.
Super big thank you again to Jon Mauler for taking our engagement pictures! Look at more of his incredible work on his website, https://www.jonmauler.com/
We packed up the car and drove to a nearby Walmart to get ready. Just after exiting the car, we were greeted by a small mastiff puppy. Her owner ran up behind her, apologizing, but Joseph and I were much too involved in puppy cuddles to be bothered.
“What’s her name,” Joseph asked.
“Athena,” her owner said. “She’s six weeks old. She’s normally really shy around people, but they say dogs can tell who good people are, and she seems to like you two a lot.”
“Oh, well, we like her, too,” Joseph said, smiling.
This, to me, felt like nothing but further confirmation in the resolution of our earlier relationship troubles. Two weeks ago, when we had been on a day trip, Joseph wanted to come up with adventure nicknames for us. He chose Raven, because he likes the poem “The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe, and because he is RAVENous for adventure. Based on this, I chose Athena, because in the poem “The Raven” (which I also love), the raven lands on the bust of Pallas, a reference to Pallas Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom. At first, I thought it sounded a bit conceited of me, but Athena was always my favorite of the Greek gods, and while Joseph is the one who is pushing us to try new things and go on new adventures, I feel like I am more often the voice of wisdom and calm that brings practicality to the journey.
Athena, the puppy, ran to us, which confirmed to me that the energy between us was once again healed. Her name was just too perfect of a coincidence. While getting in some much needed puppy cuddle time, I exhaled my last little bit of unease from the previous days of this trip. Dogs really are the best source therapy.
While I got ready in the Walmart bathroom, Joseph cleaned the car. We bought a few essentials, including bananas for breakfast, and then we were on our way.
Our first stop was Garden of the Gods. The view did not disappoint. Instead of plunging into the ground, the canyons stood tall above us, towering with such majesty it was as if they belonged on Mount Olympus. My only complaints were that the heat was unbearable – it felt as if we were trying to breathe in an oven – and the trails were crowded with people. Joseph and I hurried through the main loop and then used a side trail to walk back to our car. I didn’t mind that so many people wanted to see the canyons, just as we did. It’s just that the magic of nature is somewhat diluted when they are surrounded by concrete paths and people taking photographs.
As we walked back to our car, Joseph, who was in just as high of spirits as me, put his arm around my waist.
“I love you so much,” he said. “You are so inexpensive to me.” A pause followed this statement.
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically. He caught my tone and quickly realized his mistake.
“Priceless,” he exclaimed. “I meant priceless!”
It feels good for us to be back to normal.
We tried to go to the visitors’ center, but the line was much too long and we were in a bit of a time crunch, so we headed straight to Bishop’s Castle instead. I had a fitness class scheduled over Zoom in just under two hours. As we drove along the mountain road, our phones lost signal, but we were hoping that we would be able to connect to wifi at the castle. To our dismay, when we arrived, we found the service was no better than before and the castle did not offer wifi. At this point, it had been about 45 minutes since we had service, and there was just about that much time until my class. We sped back down the mountain road, frustratedly backtracking on our road trip, until we found service just a few minutes before my class was about to start. Joseph drove the car onto a dirt side road, and I set up my laptop on the back of his car. It was an unconventional setting for a fitness class, but I am sure my students enjoyed the mountains in the background.
After the class, we ate a very late lunch and then drove back to Bishop Castle. As much as we hated having to drive the same route twice, the attraction was worth it.
Bishop Castle was constructed by one man, Jim Bishop, who has been building and adding to it for nearly 60 years. It’s the ultimate testament to perseverance. Joseph and I stood at the bottom, looking up at the monumental structure before us. The large stones adorned with ornate iron work gave the impression of elegance and sophistication. Upon entering the castle, we realized this was somewhat of a facade. The structure was amazing for two reasons, the first being that it was built by one man, and the second, that it did not completely collapse beneath us. We walked up the narrow stone steps to the towers built entirely by iron that shook and swayed in the breeze. Our legs visibly shaking, we climbed to the tallest point and looked out at the mountains surrounding us. The view was incredible, but it was impossible to relax and enjoy it when we feared at any second we would be falling to our deaths.
The castle was filled with different corridors leading to nausea-inducing spiral staircases, so it took us nearly an hour to explore. All the while, we were filled with nervous laughter and excitement.
“The only thing to fear is fear itself,” Joseph called as we carefully stepped down iron steps that led to a stone platform without any railings.
“I’m going to call B.S. on that one,” another visitor yelled out. “I think climbing tall, unstable towers like this are on the list of things to be afraid of.”
After Bishop castle, we began the three hour drive to Boulder, our last stop before our trip finale in Denver. When we arrived at our planned campsite, we were dismayed to see a sign that prohibited parking from dusk to dawn. To bolster our spirits, we each ate a Rice Krispies treat and took a quick stroll in the park to stretch our legs. Then, we got back on the road and drove another thirty minutes to a steep, mountain lane that led us to a lonely campsite in the forest. I set up the tent as Joseph made us grilled cheese sandwiches. We ate in the dark, sitting on the tarp in front of our tent, satisfied and relaxed.
I would be willing to experience a thousand days like yesterday to have just one day like today. It’s always so discouraging to have struggles in a relationship, but the growth we experience from those difficulties make all the other times spent together so much better. Every story has a setback; that’s what makes the comeback so sweet. As for Joseph’s and my journey…well, it’s still one of my favorite stories to tell.
Today, I finally woke up to the quintessential Colorado morning I have been waiting for. Shivering, I sat up in my sleeping bag, surrounded by pine trees and mountains adorned with snow. The air was clean and crisp in my lungs, leaving my body feeling refreshed and renewed.
Joseph made us some coffee and we started driving. Our first stop today was Frisco. Originally, we had just planned on walking the main street, but last night, I found a short hike for us to do. Or, at least, I thought it would be a short hike. It was only four miles round trip. What I did not consider was that it was a hike up a mountain, and the reason the mileage was so short was because the trail went straight up with no place to rest or catch our breath.
Mount Royal was one of the toughest but most rewarding hikes Joseph and I have done. Breathing heavily, we climbed the two miles upward, the equivalent of 140 floors on my FitBit watch. To put that into perspective, the empire state building is 102 floors.
The view was more than worth it. On top of the summit, looking down on the world, we both felt accomplished and in awe of the beauty around us. From that height, the town of Frisco looked like a model village with little toy boats floating in the harbor.
The trip down the mountain took us just as long as the hike up. It was not difficult, but the steep grade and loose rocks and dirt made it difficult to find our footing. Taking baby steps, we slipped and slid down the side of the mountain. About halfway down, Joseph was able to find some sticks that he fashioned into walking sticks, so the second half of the trek was much easier than the first.
On the way down, we met up with another couple from Maryland. Joseph excitedly announced to them that we are engaged, and they congratulated us. After we parted ways, Joseph turned to me.
“It’s so much fun to tell people,” he said. “It’s like I totally forgot that we were engaged, but then, telling other people gets me so excited again.”
By the time we reached the bottom of the mountain, we were both starving. We grabbed our portable grill from the car and sat at a nearby picnic table, where we made chicken melt sandwiches. It was a satisfying meal after such a strenuous hike.
We then headed into town, where we bought lattes and walked main street. Joseph bought me a snow globe to commemorate our experience, and I bought a sticker for our scrapbook. We listened to a live band playing and strolled along the sidewalks painted with the word “love” in rainbow letters in multiple languages.
By the time we had finished exploring, it was already three in the afternoon. We decided to head to Red Rock Canyon and save Boulder, our original next stop, until we headed back north. We drove, listening to music, both exhausted after the long day we had already experienced.
I don’t remember what Joseph said. I know my feelings were a bit hurt when he said it, but that the comment was so inconsequential, I brushed it aside nearly instantly. I let it go, but he didn’t.
The next thing I knew, Joseph was broken down beside me, upset because he felt he kept hurting me on this trip.
“Is it going to be like this for the rest of our lives,” he asked me. “Am I just going to keep hurting you? And what if I become someone that you don’t like – what are we going to do then? Is this really what you want?”
I was stunned. I didn’t know how to prove to this man any more than I already had how much I love him. He expressed that he was still feeling rejected; he still felt like there was something off between us, even though I had done everything I could think of in the last few days, and for all of our relationship, to make him feel loved.
We parked at Red Rock Canyon, both a wreck, our tired eyes staring out of the windshield, not even seeing the landscape before us.
“I just don’t understand,” I said. “I don’t know what changed. We just got engaged, and we are on this trip that we have both dreamed of, and you just seem so unhappy.” I looked to him, my eyes posing the question that neither of us wanted to actually speak into existence: Do you even want to be engaged to me?
Joseph’s proposal – Photo creds go to Jon Mauler. If you want to see more of his amazing photography, visit https://www.jonmauler.com/
“Alright, let’s do what we did the other day,” Joseph said after what felt like minutes of silence. “Let’s get out of the car and try to step out of this situation, and then maybe we will be able to see more clearly what’s going on.” We exited the car. Joseph grabbed cereal for a snack while I walked across the parking lot to the restrooms.
I am so glad I walked away. I needed a few moments alone to think. I sat for a moment, took a few deep breaths, and tried to clear my mind. Why wasn’t Joseph happy? Was it me? Was it something I did? Did he not want to be engaged? He didn’t seem to be excited to be engaged, which just baffled me because from almost the very beginning of our relationship, we have both been dreaming of this moment.
And then it hit me. Just a week ago, sitting alone at home, just days after Joseph and I had gotten engaged, I remember not feeling so well either. I didn’t understand it at the time. My mother would ask me why I seemed upset, why I wasn’t more thrilled to share all the details of the proposal, why I didn’t seem like myself at all. And the answer I didn’t want to admit was because I was upset, because the proposal was something I didn’t want to talk about, and because I no longer felt like myself.
I was thrilled to be engaged, but once the excitement of the proposal had gone away, it hit me just how big of a decision I had made. Before the proposal, Joseph and I had talked extensively about our future, engagement, marriage, kids…just about everything. We even read through a book, “101 Questions to Ask Before You Get Engaged,” and not even one red flag had appeared as we worked through it. I knew the proposal was coming, and up until the day of, I had always said that I was absolutely positive that it was what I wanted. And it is still exactly what I want.
But when Joseph bent down on one knee, I had the length of two seconds to answer him. Of course, it was like a reflex – how could I not marry this man who had changed my entire life for the better? But after a few days, when the excitement wore off, I started to realize everything I was giving up. I knew it wasn’t a mistake, but I had to grieve for the life that I thought I was going to have for the first 21 years of my life, before I met Joseph. I would never become a travel writer, adventuring solo around the world and sharing my journey through my craft. I would never live the single life in an apartment in New York City, working as a waitress and trying to “make it big” like everyone else there. I was now looking at a very different future, one that I very much wanted, but that was entirely different from what I had imagined for most of my life.
When I exited the bathroom, I sat on the back of the car with Joseph by my side, eating my bowl of cereal, still contemplating my latest realization.
“I think I know what’s wrong,” I said.
“You do,” he asked.
“Yes, because what you’re going through right now, I went through last week,” I said, “And I just didn’t tell you about it.” Joseph stared at me. “If I’m wrong,” I continued, “it might be really bad. But if I’m right, it could really help us.”
“What is it,” Joseph asked. I gestured to his bowl my spoon.
“Eat your cereal first,” I said. Joseph laughed.
“That sounds good,” he said. We finished our snack, and then we started our hike up the barren red path winding through the cacti and underbrush.
I told him everything I had thought about in the bathroom. I told him I had realized that the reason we couldn’t figure out why anything was wrong may just be what was wrong: We couldn’t understand why we were unhappy right after we got engaged, but maybe it was because we got engaged. That’s not to say that we both aren’t so incredibly happy to be engaged, that we would ever change our minds and not choose to spend the rest of our lives with one another. However, we just went through a huge life change and we need time to adjust and grieve for what we gave up. We are no longer our own person; we just agreed to soon become one flesh in holy matrimony.
“Tyler, I think that might be it,” Joseph said. “And I think it’s also that I just don’t feel like we’re engaged. We made this huge decision, and then nothing really changed. I mean, you’re not even wearing your ring!” My ring is currently being resized at Zales in Maryland. No longer wanting to have a bare finger, I am wearing a cheap Aeropostale ring that’s turning my finger green.
“So, it’s normal to feel this way,” Joseph asked.
“I think so,” I said. “It’s a huge decision. I had these feelings before, but I don’t anymore, because I know whatever other future I could have had, it doesn’t even compare to the future I am going to have with you. I want to marry you. So, there were three things that helped me. One, I admitted what I was feeling. Then, I had a sit down conversation with myself, where I actually thought through what would have happened if I had said, ‘no.’ And I didn’t get far into that conversation before I started crying because it was terrible. And then, I think the last thing that you have to do to deal with a big life change is to start moving with it. I think big life changes are always intimidating until you start living it out, and then you realize it’s not so bad. I think right now we are intimidated by being engaged, but if we start actually planning the wedding, doing pre-marriage counseling, looking for places to live, I think we will realize that it’s actually something we can handle.”
Joseph took this in, and it was clear that his spirits were much more lifted than before. There was the old spring in his step that I had been missing this entire trip.
“I am so glad we’re talking about this,” he said. “This is what actually makes me feel confident in our relationship. I feel so validated and seen by you. I remember seeing guys get cold feet right before their weddings, and I didn’t understand why, and I didn’t think that I would be that. But I think that’s what’s happening. And I don’t want that to happen anymore.” He paused. “So, I guess I am going to have that sit-down conversation with myself.” I took a nervous, deep breath and nodded.
“I think you have to,” I said.
“I love you,” Joseph told me.
“I love you, too.”
The sun began to set, bathing the canyons in red light. We hurried back to our car in the dark and made dinner on a nearby rock. It was late by the time we got on the road, headed to a Walmart parking lot to sleep. To our dismay, when we arrived, we saw a sign that said “No overnight parking.” Physically and emotionally exhausted, we drove another half hour to a Bass Pro Shop parking lot, where we emptied the back seat for me to sleep and set up Joseph’s hammock outside.
Alone in the car, I am both an emotional wreck and the most calm I have been in days. I am confident in our relationship, but there is, of course, that sliver of doubt that wonders if Joseph’s conversation with himself won’t go as I mine went with me. There’s that little bit of me that worries we won’t be climbing any more mountains together in the future. I am worried about losing both my fiancé and my best friend.
But the thing is, I know this has been hanging over us the whole trip, and now it’s finally being laid to rest. From here on, we are once again on the same page of our story.
The sunshine filtered through the car windows, gentle caressing my eyes open. I sat in my sleeping bag in the car at the same time Joseph sat in his hammock outside. We looked at each other, smiled, and then simultaneously began to pack our belongings.
We packed up the car and drove to a nearby gas station to get ready for the day. It was the nicest gas station restroom I have ever been in, with flowers and artwork to look at while I went to the bathroom.
We drove next to the auto shop just before it opened. While we waited for the car to be fixed, we decided to walk around town. There wasn’t much to look at or shops to visit; it definitely was not a tourist destination, but we had fun anyway. We turned off the road when we saw greenery, assuming it would lead us to a park. Instead, we found ourselves in a sculpture garden behind a church. The path led us in a circle around the garden. The statues adorning the path told the story of Jesus’ death. At the end, three wooden crosses sat on top of pile of boulders, and in front of this, three rocks had been used to form the empty tomb.
While walking, Joseph and I began to talk about the validity of Christianity, what we believe and what others we know believe. Is the Bible truth, or just stories designed to teach morals? The Bible was inspired by God but written by man, so how do we know what was truly ordained by God and what were the musings of man?
“Even if I can’t prove the Bible is true, I know the change that has happened inside me,” Joseph said. “Do you think any other religion has that kind of transformation?” I thought about this for a second. So often, Joseph and I have spiritual conversations like this, where we attempt to tackle concepts far too complex for the human brain to ever comprehend. Despite the fact that we will never truly know the answers our questions, we still enjoy sharing our thoughts and coming to places of respect and understanding for each other’s beliefs.
Personally, I believe there is validity in other world religions. The idea of Christianity is that Jesus is the only way to be saved, and that is the thought I have always grown up with. But I don’t want to place human limits on my greater-than-human God. The idea that God would send some of his beloved children to hell, especially those who never have the chance to get to know Jesus, is something I have always wrestled with. Deep inside me, I know there must be much more to this story of creation, the universe, and God’s relationship with us than I will ever know. And that’s okay, because my only responsibility is to love others as best I can, not to solve the existential questions of life.
“Every religion and deeply held belief creates transformation inside us,” I said to answer Joseph’s question. “It’s not just Christianity. I mean, we want answers to existential questions, so anything that fills that hole, we cling to. That’s how cults happen. We can become so attached to an idea that we’re willing to go through terrible things and endure mental trauma. It’s the whole ‘drink the kool aid’ situation where people are willing to take their own lives because of how much they believe something and because they think it will give them salvation. But, I think the difference of Christianity is that it requires nothing of you. A lot of religions and beliefs have stipulations and rules about how to reach salvation, but in Christianity, it’s already been done for you. You don’t need to do anything. And that makes a difference, because if you’re required to love others, it’s not really love. Love has to be a choice. But in Christianity, because God loves you so much, you want to love others, and I think that is what is so transformational.”
“This is a pretty radical idea, but, what if we are all already saved, and we are just supposed to spread the message of peace and loving yourself,” Joseph asked. “Because, that’s what Christianity does. It shows you that you are loved and you don’t have to do anything to achieve that. You already have it. What if Jesus did the work to save all of us, whether we know him or not? But life is better if you do know him because then you have that message of rest and love in your life. And that’s all anyone wants – to be loved and accepted as they are and to be told they don’t have to try so hard.”
One of the first things that made me sure that Joseph was the person I was going to marry was that our beliefs were so similar. We both define ourselves as more spiritual than religious, which, on our third date, Joseph gave the perfect definition for: Religion is how much you know about God; spirituality is how much you know God. We both were raised Christian, but we like to explore the possibilities of other beliefs, because without knowing what other thoughts exist, how can you know what you truly believe? But what I love most about what Joseph believes is that his priority, like mine, is just loving other people and accepting them as they are. And the way we both know how to do that best is to accept and remember God’s love for us. We do that in tradition of Christianity because that’s what we know, but when other people have other ways of knowing God, we embrace that, too. As deep as our conversations may go, we always come back to that: To be loved and to love others is why we are here and what we are meant to do in this life.
We continued our walk, and we found a sign about a yard sale. Since we still had not heard from the auto shop, we went to check it out and found a great deal on a French press. Our morning coffee is about to get so much better.
Since it had been nearly two hours at this point, we headed back to the auto shop to see how things were going. Unfortunately, we found out that the shop did not have the right size break pads, so they had to get them from somewhere else. It was another hour before the car was ready, during which we waited in the shop, zoning out on our phones.
We still hadn’t eaten a real breakfast, so we ate some cereal at the car and then stopped by a Dunkin’ for coffee because, as Joseph said, “We deserve it after that wait.” At the early hour of noon, we finally got started on our driving for the day.
Our first stop was the Colorado National Monument. Both of us are growing tired of seeing canyons (we both enjoy the mountains more), but I’m glad we decided to go to the monument. Instead of just standing above looking down, there were different levels to the canyon, so there were points where we could gaze up at the red rock and actually admire all the details that we would normally miss. We picnicked at one of the scenic points, and then drove through the rest of the monument, stopping along the way to take pictures and admire the scenery. One of my favorite points was when we were able to see where water normally flows through the canyon because it was the only spot where green trees were growing. They wound alongside the snake-like path where the water sometimes flows, soaking up the nutrients from the ground. As I stepped closer to the edge to admire this, I looked down, and my stomach dropped. It was a straight fall down hundreds of feet into the canyon.
“If you fell, you would for sure die,” I told Joseph, who was just behind me.
“Yeah, please don’t say that,” Joseph said, grabbing onto the back of my shirt and pulling me away from the edge as if he had me on a leash. “Let’s back up a bit.”
After the monument, we drove to Aspen. It was stunning how fast the scenery changed. From red and brown rock, the landscape faded in almost an instant to tall, pine-covered mountains and clear, blue lakes. Both of us were excited for our first true hike in the mountains, something we had been looking forward to for all of this trip. We wound so far into the trees on the way to Maroon Bells, the signals were lost on our phones, but we enjoyed the moment just to be present in the beauty surrounding us.
We arrived at the entrance to the park, where the woman asked us if we had a reservation. We did not. Because of COVID-19, everyone needed a reservation to enter the park. The woman directed us to a website we could try to find a slot of time on, but when we finally drove to where we had service again to check, we found that all the slots were taken until ten o’clock tonight, which was much too late to hike.
“I thought you checked on all the places to see if we needed reservations,” Joseph said, confused.
“I did,” I said. “This was one of the places you added last minute, after I checked all the parks.”
“Yeah, and I asked you to check on the park to make sure we could get in,” Joseph said.
“You did,” I asked. “I thought you were going to that.”
“No, I asked you to do it,” Joseph repeated.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” I said. “I really thought you had checked it.”
“It’s okay,” Joseph said, but I could tell he was disappointed. We both were. “I should have checked in with you,” Joseph continued, but I couldn’t help but feel mad at myself. We started our drive back, silent and upset, when Joseph spotted a different trail head. He proposed doing a different hike, so we parked close by and approached the trail. When Joseph looked it up on his phone, we discovered it was a seven-mile round-trip hike – a bit ambitious for five o’clock in the afternoon. But fueled by our disappointment about the last hike, we packed our bag with snacks and started the trail.
Near the beginning, we met up with some locals, who informed us that the trail was not the one we originally thought it was. It was a much shorter hike, but still with some nice views of the lake. Now doubly disappointed about our two failed hikes, we were pretty quiet while walking. It seemed Joseph was blaming himself just as much as I was, because after minutes of hiking in silence, he asked if I was upset with him.
“No, I just…we’ve been to a lot of canyons, and we have a lot more planned for this trip, and I am kind of over canyons,” I said.
“Well, Tyler, you want to know something funny,” Joseph asked. “I am kind of over canyons, too. I want to be in the mountains. So, why don’t we just change our plan a bit?”
The idea of changing the plan mid-trip was pretty anxiety inducing for me, but after some more talk, we decided to just add in some time at the mountains in Frisco and Boulder, two places we were already planning on stopping, and then possibly doing some more activities around Denver. We have an extra day planned into our trip because we couldn’t get reservations for Rocky Mountain National Park, a place we had planned on visiting, so we have the time to add in some extra activities at our planned stops.
After talking more, we also came to the conclusion that it was probably best that we hadn’t known about the reservations at Maroon Bells. If we had, we probably would have missed our time slot because of our car appointment this morning. And if we had decided to not make reservations, we would have missed the beautiful view we experienced on our drive in.
On our way out, we discovered another blessing in disguise caused by missing both hikes in Aspen: our next stop was Independence Pass, which was the scariest road either of us had ever driven on. We were both relieved to be traveling it before the sun went down.
At the beginning of the pass, we took a quick detour to visit the grottos, which were more than worth it. The park featured three attractions: the ice caves, the grottos, and the cascades. At the beginning of the trail, we reached the ice caves, which are exactly what they sound like. We climbed down the rocks to the caves to find blocks of ice as big as boulders dripping into a small stream. Joseph climbed up the ice, his feet slipping and sliding, to get a better view. The cave was cool and quiet, so randomly placed in the middle of the woods, a little winter wonderland hidden away from the summer heat just above.
We accidentally took the wrong trail, so we hit the cascades next. The water pounding down the rocks could be heard far before we actually saw the waterfalls. We sat on the rocks above and gazed down at the powerful water, observing with interest how something so gentle and life-giving could also be so strong and dangerous.
We nearly missed the grottos. We stumbled upon them on the way back. What appeared first to be a pile of rocks blocking our path were actually the entrance into the tunnels formed by fallen boulders haphazardly piled on top of one another. We climbed slowly and carefully over the rocks, hoping we had not taken a wrong turn as the path became more treacherous with every step. To our relief, after about ten minutes of hiking, the rocks dwindled away and the dirt path replaced them once again.
The sun was setting in the distance, so we hurried back to our car and continued our drive along Independence Pass. We drove slowly, letting cars with more experienced Colorado drivers pass us whenever we could. Looking over the cliff edge just inches from our car tires was enough to make my heart rate spike. I cringed as Joseph hugged the tight curves of the road that took us up and down the intimidating mountain path.
The view, however, was incredible. I couldn’t help but look out my window to admire the snow-capped mountains resting beneath the half moon. We were so high in the air that we were looking down on puffy, blue clouds floating beneath the peaks.
It was quickly becoming another late night, so we settled on the first campsite we found. It was a bit crowded and the people just beside us were a tad noisy, but at this point, anywhere where we could set up our sleeping bags and eat a meal was good enough for us. While Joseph set up the tent, I made dinner. The weather had cooled considerably, so we ate inside the tent, huddled in our warmest jackets and sweatpants.
Despite the late hour and chilly weather, Joseph still insisted we take a quick walk to admire the stars. Looking up at the night sky, I was once again struck by just how vast and beautiful this universe is. The amount of detail in the night sky, and honestly everything we saw today, is actually boggling. I could have spent hours at any one of the places we visited today, observing every small feature of the landscape, and I still don’t think I would have noticed everything there is to see. We live in a truly beautiful world, in an incomprehensible magnificent universe.
There are so many questions I cannot answer about life, religion, God, creation, and honestly so many other things. I am normally someone who likes to know as many facts as I can. I fill my head with random information to share at any moment, like the fact that the stars above me tonight are made mostly of hydrogen and helium, or that the Rocky Mountains that stretch from Canada to New Mexico have their highest peak right here in Colorado. But I think my spirituality is the one area I am okay with not knowing everything because that is what faith is truly about. In order to believe something, you have to be willing accept the possibility that you could be wrong, and still jump in with both feet and not look back.
And as for my personal faith, there are two things I know for sure that give me all the comfort in the unknown that I need. First, I know my God is loving, because how could anyone create something so beautiful without doing so lovingly? And second, that my God is so much grander and more complicated than any human brain could ever comprehend. So, I know no matter what happens in my life, and after my life, no matter whether it makes sense to me or not, I know He has it worked out for good.
When I imagined my first morning in Colorado, I pictured waking to cool, crisp air, surrounded by pine trees, the sun’s rays peeking over distant snow-capped mountains. Instead, I woke up in the back of a car in an RV parking lot, cold and achy. But nothing could dampen the excitement I felt to finally be in the place I have been dreaming of visiting for most of my life.
Our first stop today was Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve. Driving towards the park, we marveled at the dunes that stretched nearly a third of the height mountains behind them. As we got closer, it became more apparent just how out of place the dunes seemed. With mountains and forests surrounding them, the dunes seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere. It was as if God had dropped a giant sand box in the middle of Colorado for all the humans to play on.
We bought a national park pass, an investment both Joseph and I have been excited about making. Hiking has always been one of our favorite pastimes, and with this pass, not only will all the national parks we plan on visiting on this trip be free, but so will all the others we visit for the next year. The idea of future weekend camping trips and day hikes is something we are both looking forward to.
We arrived at the sand dunes before the visitor’s center opened, so we headed to the trails first. We walked the half mile from the visitors center to the sand dunes, following the map on Joseph’s phone. However, as we walked across the sand, it became apparent that there was not much of a trail to follow. The challenge was basically to climb the dunes to the highest point; however visitors wanted to accomplish that was up to them.
To say the hike was difficult would be an understatement. Even as active people and experienced hikers, we had to stop multiple times, gasping for air and eagerly guzzling our water. The dunes were steep, and our feet sunk into the hot sand, so we were constantly fighting gravity to keep ourselves from falling. The highest dune stretched 755 feet into the air, and we had to climb numerous other dunes just to get to its base.
But the view was worth it. Gazing down from the top, the undulations of the dunes were reminiscent of ocean waves. The view of the mountains and Medano Creek were even more spectacular from that height. We watched in amazement as birds soared beneath us, winding between the dunes with enviable freedom. Far below us, the other visitors attempting the hike or sand boarding looked to be as small as ants. It was a moment of both exhilaration and awe as we gazed down at the world that we now seemed so far above.
We reached the top at just about the same time as another couple. Randy and Peggy are from Iowa, but they are currently in Colorado to visit their daughter. We chatted for a short while, and they offered to take our picture (after using hand sanitizer because there is a worldwide pandemic occurring). We took their picture as well and then parted ways.
I always enjoy having the chance to meet new people and hear their stories. Of the seven billion people on this planet, I have barely even scratched the surface in the amount of people that I know, and even fewer of those do I truly have a relationship with. It always amazes me just how many people there are, all unique and living different lives, all just trying to experience life and find meaning in what they are doing. I wonder how many people at the sand dunes today were searching for that meaning in Colorado. I wonder if that’s partly what I am doing here, too. I wonder if that’s why I am writing this blog.
We would have stayed at the top of the dunes for longer, but the wind was so strong that the sand it blew felt like small shards of glass cutting into our skin. And whenever the wind did cease, the sun beat down on us relentlessly. So, we began the trek back down, which was blessedly easier than the trip up. It reminded me of skiing as we glided down the sides of the dunes. My shoes filled with so much sand that they felt like weights on the bottoms of my feet.
Joseph did not want to take the conventional way down. We had not bought a sand board because they were so expensive, but that did not stop him. With the exclamation, “Who needs a sand board?” he leapt off the highest dune and slid and rolled down the hot sand. He told me afterwards that the sand on the sides of the dunes was so hot, he couldn’t stop moving without burning his skin.
We arrived back at the parking lot, famished and tired. However, we stopped briefly at the visitor’s center to pick up some post cards. Because of COVID-19, the store was operating only from the back door, with wares displayed in the store windows so visitors could choose and point to what they wanted and then have it handed to them beneath a glass partition. I actually didn’t mind this change of pace. It gave the concept of “window shopping” a much more literal meaning, but it was very efficient. We finished shopping in half the time it probably would have taken us.
We headed back to the car and ate a morning snack on the way to our next destination: Durango. It wasn’t a place on our original itinerary (which consisted mostly of national parks), but Durango was a small town I fell in love with last summer during 4K for Cancer when my team stopped there for the night. When I first visited, I proclaimed it was where I would want to live should I ever finally follow my dream of moving to Colorado. As Joseph and I were making our route for this trip, Joseph saw it was close to Mesa Verde. Knowing how much I loved it there, and wanting to see it for himself after I made him jealous when describing the town to him last year, he insisted that we visit.
The drive to Durango was breathtaking. We climbed and wound through forested mountains, rain pattering against our car like a gentle melody. Joseph and I drank in the view as if it were water. This is the part of Colorado I love. The sand dunes, canyons, and cacti are all fun to see, but the mountains and the forests have always felt like home.
When we arrived in Durango, the heat of the day had fully arrived. The sun had no mercy for us. Thankfully, dipping into air conditioned shops brought us some relief from the heat.
We packed a lunch and ate outside a closed shop, and then we walked the main street, visiting stores and enjoying the bustling atmosphere. Durango was just as amazing as I remembered. We watched a train go by and listened to its soothing sound, and the feeling came back just as strong as it did a year ago: I want to live here.
Even though it is our first full day in Colorado, Joseph and I both bought souvenirs because Durango is a town with both want to remember. It has had that same impression on both of us – this is somewhere special. Joseph bought me a hat, and I bought him a T-shirt and mug. We stopped at a cafe that served the best espresso and cold brew coffee that either of us tasted for a while. We walked the one street for the full three hours allotted by our parking meter, and we still did not have time to visit all the places we wanted.
On our drive back, I felt the energy in the car, the desire to return, the buzzing question of whether we could. Joseph was the one to bring it up first. Would I consider moving there?
After so many months of him asking me if I would really move to Colorado, today was the first time I answered without hesitation.
“Yes,” I said.
“Really,” he asked, surprised.
“Yes.” The excitement in the car grew.
“Could we do that,” Joseph asked.
“I don’t know.” Moving at all is intimidating, especially without careers in place and debt from school already hanging over my head; moving halfway across the country is nothing short of petrifying. So, why is it that every time I think of it, my whole body seems light up like electric wires are running through it, making me want to dance on the spot?
But the idea of leaving family and friends makes me pause. Moving to Colorado would mean starting over and moving away from everyone I love. Plenty of people do it, but plenty of people also do not.
I am getting ahead of myself though. Right now, I am fulfilling my dream of road tripping to Colorado, that is all. I want to be present, in this moment, not considering possibilities for the future. The future is unknown. The present is the only place anyone can truly live.
We arrived at our campsite, just twenty minutes outside of Mesa Verde. The gravel road led us to a plot of land surrounded by trees with a valley just beyond them and mountains hovering in the distance. The most interesting thing about this site, though, were the cows. There were dozens of them, grazing and walking around without any apparent home or owner. They walked through our campsite, acknowledging us with a few moos, and then continued their stroll. We didn’t see them for the rest of the night, but we have heard them calling to one another through the trees.
We showered in our bathing suits with a portable shower Joseph brought. I thought the water would feel refreshing after such a long, sweaty day. However, as soon as we were wet, the evening Colorado air blanketed us until we were shivering uncontrollably. We dressed into warm clothes as quickly as possible and set up camp. Just a few minutes later, we were warm once again and eating a satisfying dinner.
The sun disappeared behind the mountains, and the stars began to appear. Joseph and I sat outside our tent, mouths agape, staring at the heavens above. The stars in Maryland look nothing like the stars in Colorado. There wasn’t an inch of sky without one twinkling down at us. We gazed at the haze of the milky way that stretched across the black sky, and every so often, we caught a glimpse of a shooting star in the distance.
The stars weren’t possible to capture with a camera, but here is a picture of our view of the sunset at our campsite.
I can’t shake the feeling that this is where I belong. I can only imagine falling asleep under a sky like this every night, of feeling this close to nature, of feeling this rested inside. As the John Muir quote goes, “The mountains are calling, and I must go.” It’s the pull I felt my entire life. It’s the pull that brought me here, tonight, gazing up at this brilliant sky and wondering if Colorado actually is where I am supposed to find my meaning. Maybe there are people I am supposed to meet here and things I am supposed to do. Maybe this is where I belong.
It’s something I will have to think about, something I will have to consider in the back of my mind and ponder as we travel through Colorado for the next week. It’s something I will have to discuss with loved ones and honestly pray about. For now, I am just going to experience Colorado as if I am never coming back, and perhaps that will encourage this place to give me a reason to stay.
The mountains are calling, and I am here to answer them.
Let me just begin by saying that the backs of car seats do not make good beds. My body ached all through the night. The sunrise came far too early. I opened my bleary eyes when my alarm went off, wondering where the night had gone.
Our first challenge this morning was finding a bathroom. Because of COVID-19, a lot of stores are opening later than usual. Luckily, we found a Kroger just a few minutes away. While I was in the bathroom, Joseph cleaned up the car. We got hot water from the Starbucks inside the store for tea and instant oatmeal, and then we were off on our journey.
We drove the first four hours without stopping. We chatted and listened to music, revisiting our playlists from yesterday. The first state line we crossed today was Missouri. From a distance, we marveled at St. Louis and the grand arch. We are planning on visiting St. Louis at the end of this trip on our way back to Maryland.
We stopped just 30 minutes farther down the road because we were in desperate need of coffee and that’s where the closest Dunkin’ was. We sat on a parking lot curb again today for lunch, eating sandwiches and baby carrots. After our meal, we decided to take a walk to stretch our legs before getting back on the road.
We walked first to the obvious main attraction, a grandiose casino just down the road. When we got there, we walked down the stairs of the parking garage to find an older, abandoned floor with graffiti-covered walls and mounds of dirt caked onto the floor. It was odd to see the stark contrast from the richness just above our heads. It seemed like we had stepped into a city out of a science fiction novel, and we had traveled from where the rich lived up ahead to where the less fortunate lived down below.
We wandered out of the garage and stumbled upon a biking trail with train tracks running alongside it. With the shade from the trees protecting us from the Missouri summer heat, we continued our stroll to find a county fair set up in a parking lot.
I absolutely love the county fair. There is just an air of excitement to it that can’t compare to anything else. Fairs are filled with local treasures, games almost no one ever wins (but I try anyway), and fun rides that are practically designed to make people throw up all of the delicious food they ate.
But I discovered today that the magic of county fairs disappears when they aren’t filled with people. Joseph and I gazed out at barren food stands and empty rides, feeling as though we were looking at a ghost town. It was creepy and unnerving, like something out of a horror film. What reminded me that it was reality were the signs on the pavement instructing people on how to properly social distance when the fair does open.
“Social distancing,” Joseph began thoughtfully. “How bad do you think the PTSD of this generation is going to be?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Kids are suddenly not able to see their grandparents. They can’t hug their friends. Everyone is wearing masks. That’s pretty scary.”
“We are living in crazy times,” Joseph said.
That we are. But the thing is, when has life ever been normal? People attach the word “new” to “normal” to try to make sense of the new situation we are in, but the truth is, “normal” is never a real state of being. I was terrified when the coronavirus began, scared to step foot out of my house. As the months have drawn on, that fear has not dissipated, but I have realized that I can’t stay in my house, petrified of the world around me. Caution is important; our actions should not place ourselves or anyone else in harm’s way. But we can’t wait to live until things are “back to normal.” No one and no thing is normal. And that’s okay, because it’s not the normalcy of a situation that gives us comfort. Normalcy is something we can’t ever truly rely on, as proven by the novel coronavirus. So, how could it possibly bring us peace of mind when it can so easily be taken away? What will truly bring us solace in times like this, and really any time in our lives, is our adaptability and willingness to change. The “new normal” is here; it’s just what we call “normal” now. For me, what is most important now is discovering how I can best love those around me in these new circumstances.
We returned to our car, eager to get back on the road. We briefly visiting Kansas City, but on our way there, we were stopped in standstill traffic for an hour, which delayed us enough to decide to just head on to our campsite instead. To pass the time, we spent a few hours exploring the enneagram.
The enneagram is a personality test with nine different personality types. According to the Enneagram Institute’s website, it’s normal to find something in common with all of the personality types, but people tend to have one dominant personality and one complementary or contradictory personality, called the wing. Joseph and I have both taken the enneagram assessment in the past, and we both tested as twos. However, Joseph recently began to think that maybe he got the wrong results.
It’s already a chore to take a long personality test once. Neither of us wanted to take it a second time. Besides, after knowing what we tested as, we thought it might be difficult not to subconsciously have that knowledge influence our answers the second time we took the test.
Instead, we made a fun activity out of trying to discover our enneagram ourselves. After reading brief descriptions of each of the nine personalities, we listened to the corresponding song from the album Atlas: Enneagram by Sleeping At Last to see if we connected with the music and lyrics.
It was actually a pretty effective test. Sleeping At Last did an amazing job of adjusting their musical style to fit what I would imagine the different personalities would be most attracted to, and the lyrics were so incredibly empathetic to the way each personality thinks. I felt like, if nothing else, my empathy and understanding for all the other personalities increased.
I connected with the same song as I tested: two. Joseph, however, best connected with the three personality, and when we read the description, it fit him perfectly. The funny thing is that each of our wing (complementary) personalities is each other’s: Joseph’s wing personality is a two and mine is a three. So, even though we are not the same personality like we once thought, we understand each other well.
We are staying in Kansas tonight. Our campsite is a beautiful spot of land adjacent to a quiet lake. When we arrived, Joseph started on dinner while I set up the tent. We had turkey burgers and salad for dinner again, but tonight, Joseph got the burgers so hot that the cheese melted on top.
As the sun set, the trees became silhouettes against the purple clouds floating in the pink and orange streaked sky. As people packed up their fishing gear and left, the lake became as smooth as a mirror. Joseph and I strolled around the lake, listening to the sounds of the crickets as the lightning bugs danced around us. As the world darkened, we gazed up at bright crescent moon. The sky stretched on forever, cluttered with the brilliance of billions of dazzling stars.
We are so small in this world, in this galaxy, in this universe. Under a sky like that, I couldn’t help but feel just how insignificant I am in the grand scheme of life.
But, as just a small bit of the universe, that also makes me a part in the most significant thing we know. Just as there are trillions of stars above my head, there are trillions of cells within me. Every day, new cells and stars are created, and every day, cells and stars die. Scientists still cannot fathom the complexities of the cosmic universe, but inside me, and inside every person, is a complex universe of our own, filled with mystery and beauty too wondrous to comprehend.
Though we may be small, we are anything but insignificant. We are a beautiful work of art, a masterful creation, designed with purpose.
When we arrived back at our campsite, we had dessert: the Rice Krispies treats I made before this trip. And then, with our stomachs full and dessert cravings satisfied, we climbed into our sleeping bags for some much needed rest.
