Yesterday was not the quintessential Colorado morning I was expecting, and I can’t say this morning was either. There is something strange about waking up in a tent in the middle of the woods, listening to the gentle mooing of cows. But the cool morning air and the mountains in the distance are a step in the right direction. 

Joseph and I packed up our campsite and drove to Mesa Verde for an early morning hike. Unfortunately, most of the trails were closed because of COVID-19 or the fire hazard. We found one loop trail that was supposed to lead us around the canyons and give a spectacular view of  the cave dwellings, but halfway through, we came up to a sign that prohibited us from going any farther. Disappointed, we turned around and walked back the way we came. 

Despite this, the view was still astounding. From a distance, we looked out over the canyons to the homes carved into the rock. People are truly incredible. I can only imagine what it would have been like to build and live in those homes, with the risk of falling down the side of the canyon always a real possibility and living in a tight community where everyone worked together. As far as society has come since then, I can’t help but wonder if we have lost something.

When we returned to the car, we ate a quick breakfast and then headed to a nearby gas station. The tire pressure warning light in the car has been repeatedly appearing, despite Joseph filling the tires with air daily. When he checked the tire pressure today, the amount of air in the front left tire was alarmingly low.

“I just filled it last night,” Joseph said. “There must be a hole.” 

So, in addition to the failing breaks, damaged rotors, and cracked windshield, we now have a hole in one of our tires. Because of the amount of driving we plan on doing tomorrow, we decided it best to get the tire, along with the breaks and rotors, fixed today. Luckily, our next  stop was the main street in Telluride, so we planned to drop the car off in the town while we walked around. 

While Joseph filled the tires with air to get us to our next destination, I went into the store to buy ice for our cooler. The bags of ice I saw in the freezer all looked a little too big, so I went to the cashier, a small woman with long brown hair and impeccable eyebrows, to ask if there were any other sizes available. 

“No, just the eight pound bag,” she told me. “Do you have a small cooler?” 

“Yeah, I just don’t think it will fit,” I said. 

“Would you want half a bag,” she asked. 

“Actually, yes, that would be great.”

“I have a small cooler and I do the same thing for me,” she said. “And I won’t charge you for it.” 

“Oh, really,” I asked. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” The cashier shrugged it off. 

“Oh, it’s no problem,” she said. “The full bag is only four dollars, so there’s really no point in charging you. Just give me a minute.” She tended to other customers waiting in line, and then she went into the back room, grabbed a fresh bag, and shoveled ice into it from a machine. After thanking her again, I excitedly presented the gift to Joseph, and then we were on our way to our next destination. 

It was almost a two hour drive to Telluride, but after sitting in the car for days, the trip flew by as if we were just driving down the block. We stopped a few minutes outside of the main town to drop off our car at Telluride Tire and Auto Service. The owner, Stuart, told Joseph that it would be about an hour, so instead of going into town, he recommended a scenic spot where we could eat lunch. Joseph and I packed some food, and we walked a short distance to a nearby baseball field adjacent to a clear, blue lake. We sat on one of the benches and gazed up at the snow-capped mountains just a few miles away.

When we arrived back at the auto shop, we enjoyed a cup of complimentary coffee while waiting to be seen. When Stuart was ready, he delivered both good and bad news: The leak in our tire was fixed, but our brakes were not capable of bringing us safely home. He himself did not have the parts to fix them, but he asked where we were headed and then personally called mechanics in that area for us to find out who had the parts and could work on our car first thing tomorrow morning. 

I am not sure we would have had any luck had we not had Stuart’s help. He had personal relationships with the owners and managers of each of the places he called, so we were able to get an appointment with a trusted mechanic when the shop opened tomorrow. And once securing us with that appointment after nearly half an hour of calling other shops, he told us that he was not going to charge us for the tire plug, nor the hour of labor he put in to fix it. We were stunned by his generosity and thanked him profusely, but he shrugged us off just as the  cashier did earlier today. He said that his shop fixes tires for free for people passing through all the time.

“I believe in karma,” he said. “Years ago, my wife was driving to Oregon, and her water pump broke in Idaho. A farmer pulled over on the side of the road and told her that his son had an auto shop. He took her there and fixed her pump for free. I have never forgotten that.”

We thanked Stuart again, and then we left to continue our drive into Telluride. We passed through the main town, searching for what we were most excited about: The gondola ride. We continued down the windy road until it ended, sure at this point that we were driving in the wrong direction. However, the mountains ahead kept us going. We parked and took a few minutes just to take in the beauty of the giants towering above us. A waterfall cascaded down the side of the rock, and beside it, just like in Disney and Pixar’s “Up,” was a house sitting on top of the mountain.

As we drove back toward Telluride’s main street, Joseph spotted the gondola cables stretching up the side of the mountain. We parked in Telluride, and while Joseph paid, I ran to save our spot in line, which stretched down the sidewalk from the entrance. Luckily, the line moved quickly, and soon we were in our own little compartment, floating into the sky, watching the shops and homes grow smaller beneath us. The gondola climbed through tall white trees and over trails that wound down the mountainside, where people were biking. At the top, Joseph and I stared at the mountains in awe. This was the Colorado we had been dreaming of seeing. 

We exited the gondola at the mountain market, a small town that had the feel of an amusement park main square. Despite the fact that people actually did live on the ski resort, the way the buildings were designed to match and connect with one another made it almost seem like a facade. I kept waiting for the people in costume to come out dancing. 

We dipped into a couple of shops, including one filled with animal photographs, paintings, and figurines created from of rope, wire and beads. An older woman with a foreign accent I couldn’t quite identify sat behind a desk at the front of the shop, books filled with photographs of African animals in front of her. She informed us that everything in the shop was created in South Africa, and all of the proceeds were used to help save the elephants and rhinos. 

Elephants are my favorite animal, so obviously I couldn’t stop myself from supporting this cause. I selected a small, beaded, elephant figurine who was in mid-trumpet. The woman behind the desk informed us that she was from South Africa, and she worked with Peace Parks Foundation, an organization that fights to keep the animals in Africa safe. She works particularly with elephants and rhinos. 

“Did you know that 57 percent of the world’s species are extinct, and that happened in just the last forty years,” she asked us. “We need young people like you to help. If you have the chance to put a signature on something, sign it. And if you can volunteer, do it. It’s not easy work, but once you go to Africa, you aren’t ever going to want to come back.” 

She grabbed a documentary off a nearby stack of DVDs, peeled the price tag off of it, and handed it to me. 

“This is for you to watch,” she said. “It’s not pretty, but it’s factual, and it’s important.” I promised her I would watch it, and Joseph and I left with moods slightly dampened but adventures still to have for the day. I will have to research more about Peace Parks later. I have always wanted to go to South Africa, but circumstance has kept me here in the United States. However, perhaps I can find other ways to help support this cause. 

Joseph and I rode the gondola back to the main street of Telluride to explore those shops. We bought some Belgian chocolate to enjoy for dessert and another post card to commemorate our experience. Then we returned to our car to start the drive to Black Canyon.

By now, it was getting to late, but we were determined to do at least a short hike in the canyons before the sun set. Just twenty minutes away from our destination, we stopped at a Walmart to pick up a few essentials. As we stepped out of the car, I gazed out at the black clouds in the distance and inquired about the weather.

“I was thinking about that, too,” Joseph said. “But I checked the weather and it said it is supposed to be clear all night.” We went into the store to pick up food and super glue for the crack in the windshield. As we approached the checkout, Joseph received a text from his mom, asking about how the weather was and where we were located. We bought our supplies and then headed to the doors, where we stopped in shock. In the short time that we had been in the store, the world had gone dark and the trees were bent sideways from the power of the wind. 

We hurried to the car, where we checked the weather on our phones again, but the app still said the it was supposed to be clear all night. We decided to head to Black Canyon to see if the weather blew over, and if not, we would head straight to the campsite. 

By the time we arrived at the national park, the weather seemed to have calmed. The wind was still heavy, but the skies had cleared a bit. The air had cooled considerably, so we put on jackets and sweatpants and headed to the trail. But just as we started the trek into the canyons, the rain began to pour down on us. We ran back to the car, where we watched lightning streak down the sky in the distance.

Still not wanting to miss our chance to visit the canyon, we decided to wait again. In fifteen minutes, the weather had cleared, but now we were twenty minutes away from sunset. With the agreement to be careful but to move as quickly as possible, we grabbed our rain jackets and hurried back to the trail.

I am so glad we decided to go. The temperature had warmed again, so we ended up shedding our layers within the first half mile. And the view was incredible. I thought I had completely tired from seeing canyons, but I found this view more magnificent than when I visited the Grand Canyon last year. The canyons plunged deep into the earth, teeming with trees and wildlife. And just as we were finishing the trail, the sun dropped behind the trees and lit up the sky like fire. I have never seen a more incredible sunset in my life. 

Our campsite was just a few minutes away, so we made it there just before dark. The road was a little rough, and there was not enough space to set up our tent, but it was too late to try another campsite. While I made salads for dinner, Joseph cleared out the back seat, and then we ate in the woods. Joseph hung his hammock between our car and the trees so he could sleep beneath the stars, but I wanted protection from the wind and mosquitos, so I slept in the car. 

As I fell asleep, I thought back to all the incredible people we met today. From brief encounters with kind townspeople, to the cashier who gave us a free bag of ice, to the man who fixed our tire for free and helped us to stay on track with our journey, to the woman who has dedicated her life to saving endangered species, we experienced the true gift of kindness and generosity throughout our day. And our experience would not have been the same without it. It’s curious to me that, just this morning, I was pondering if society had lost something since the time when we lived in close quarters in cave dwellings to our comfortable homes today. Then it seemed that every interaction I had today was created to remind me that simply wasn’t true. The spirit of human cooperation and benevolence has not been lost. The challenge now is to be willing to focus on the goodness of people, and to challenge ourselves to extend that kindness to others as well.