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.
