Travel

Colorado road trip: Day nine

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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.

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Travel

Colorado road trip: Day eight

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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.  

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Lifestyle, Stories

A day at the zoo

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Photo creds: Geran de Klerk (Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/@gerandeklerk)

It was easy for me to slip into the routine of living my life at home. My parents had never been very adventurous. In all of my childhood, I can probably count on two hands the amount of times I saw their friends, and on one hand the amount of times they actually left the house to go out with someone. I normally found them on their own at home, doing something quiet that brought them pleasure. My brother was a tad more adventurous, but even he found enjoyment in locking himself in his room for days to play video games.

I grew up more extroverted, but when chronic illness hit, I began to spend more time at home. Many of my young friends could not understand what it meant to be unable to go out, even though I looked fine. My symptoms were not visible. It became easier to entertain myself at home rather than deal with the judgment and expectations of others. But I missed going out. I missed seeing the world. There is an entire year that I don’t remember the seasons ever changing because I never took a step out of my house. I regret that year of my life most.

One summer evening, while looking online for something to do to take away the boredom, I came across an interesting national holiday: July 1 is American Zoo Day. I looked to my mother, who was absorbed in her own laptop, and asked her if we could go to the zoo that week.

Her face clouded with confusion. She looked up at me, her eyebrows knit.

“Why do you want to go to the zoo,” she asked. I shrugged.

“I just thought it would be fun.” She watched me for a moment longer, and then she looked back down at her laptop.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

“Okay?” I could not believe she had agreed.

“Yes, okay.”

It may sound weird for a nineteen-year-old girl to be so excited about visiting the zoo, but I was more thrilled about this than I had been about graduating high school the year before, when so many thought I would have dropped out. I eagerly began searching online to find the nearest zoo and to plan the event. That week, my mother and I made chicken salad and packed snacks to bring, and early on a Wednesday morning, we left for a day in Washington, D.C. with my friends, Erin and Kristina.

There is something odd about being the most excited person on a trip. While my mother and Erin obliged me and let me lead the way as I skipped down the cobblestone streets of the zoo, Kristina could only look upon me with distaste. I admit, I must have looked childish. My eyes were filled with wonder as I gazed down into the pit where the lions roared at one another. I laughed as I watched the strange squirrel-like creatures tussle. And I cowered in fear when my mother dragged me into the monkey house to see the animals she found most interesting, which happen to be animals that most terrify me. Meanwhile, Kristina sat at the edge of the room, her face engrossed in her cell phone, probably complaining about the lame trip she had been forced to go on.

But when we entered the elephant house, I forgot all about my less-than-enthusiastic companions. Face-to-face with an Asian elephant, her large amber eyes staring into mine, all the other voices around me fell silent. In that moment, I felt more seen than I had in years.

Photo creds: Hu Chen (Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/@huchenme)

I had all but wasted away; my body had grown so thin from disease I was surprised I had not completely disappeared. Friends had forgotten to call for my birthday, and then forgotten to call at all. I had slunk away from the world, holed into myself, trapped myself in a house because it felt warm and protected me from the rest of the world. But this lonely elephant saw me when no one else had, and in that moment, I saw what it truly meant to be caged from the rest of the world.

I have read that elephant mothers are one of the few that stay with their children, in particular, their daughters. While the sons grow up and leave, their daughters join the herd and stay with their mothers for life. It is said the bond between these females is one of the strongest in the animal kingdom. In my life, I have only felt love this strong from one person. I looked back at my companions and found two of them engrossed in their own lives. My mother, however, was gazing at me with pure joy. I knew then why she had agreed to this trip when she normally would never venture beyond the confines of our local county, much less would brave the stressful, crowded streets of Washington, D.C.  My mother loved me with a fierceness that I could never match nor comprehend, and the only way to repay this was to live my life in a way that would make her proud – to never take another day for granted, to never let myself miss out on life, and to never let another day pass in which I felt unloved or invisible.

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Travel

Colorado road trip: Day five

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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.” 

The view of the mountain market from the gondola

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. 

As always, the picture does not do it justice – the sunset was absolutely breathtaking in person

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. 

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Colorado road trip: Day three

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The first thing Joseph said to me on the morning of our third day road tripping was the last thing I would ever want to wake up to hearing.

“I didn’t want to wake you last night because I didn’t want to scare you,” Joseph said. 

“Okay,” I said uneasily. “What is it?”  He pulled out his phone, opened his photos app, and clicked on a video recording from last night. When he clicked play, the sounds of at least a dozen dogs barking filled the tent.

“They were everywhere,” Joseph said. “They were so loud they woke me up.”

“We had coyotes around our tent,” I exclaimed. Joseph laughed and nodded. 

Despite that alarming start to our day, we and all of our belongings were fine. The two of us got ready and went for a 5K run to stretch our legs before sitting in the car all day. After the run, we jumped into the lake in our bathing suits to cool off and bathe for the first time on this trip. Despite the murky water and mud squishing between my toes, it was actually quite refreshing, and I felt surprisingly clean afterwards. We made some oatmeal for breakfast, and then we started driving to the destination we have been looking forward to: Colorado. 

I dozed in the car as Joseph listened to a podcast about his enneagram. We stopped in an iHop parking lot so I could teach my yoga class. 

As I was teaching, I watched Joseph with curiosity. He had the hood open and was moving about the car, seemingly hard at work. When I finished teaching, he excitedly showed me what he had been up to.

Do you remember that cigarette lighter we blew on the first day of our trip? We have been struggling to get enough power to charge any of our electronics since then. Today, Joseph had the brilliant idea of trying to fix the cigarette lighter himself, something I didn’t think could be done. He found a YouTube video about where to find the fuse box in his car, which had extra fuses for the cigarette lighter in it. Without any prior experience, he switched the fuse in the cigarette lighter and it worked! Now, we have enough power to charge everything we need for the rest of this trip.

Now, the main concern is the car brakes. We have been hearing a soft grinding noise in the back right tire, and when we looked at it today, we saw rust had covered about an inch of the rotor. After consulting some family and friends who are mechanics, we have decided to let it go for now, but if it gets worse, we will have to get it fixed during this trip. 

The rest of the day was spent driving, driving, and driving some more. Kansas is beautiful, but the long flat roads surrounded by cornfields start to get old after a few hours. 

We found some sunflowers (my favorite flower) on the side of the road. It was a nice break from the corn.

“How are we still in Kansas,” I asked in exasperation. 

“This is how it is,” Joseph said jokingly. “You’re in Kansas for, like, eight days, and then you finally get to Colorado.” 

We stopped at a gas station, where I filled our water bottles with a pump. The thing is, I have never used a water pump, so when I attempted it, the water sprayed all over me. Joseph,  who was filling our tires with air,  started laughing hysterically. But, honestly, after sitting in the hot car all day, it felt so refreshing. I would have sat under that spigot and just let the water run over me if it had been socially acceptable to do so. The heat was so oppressive today that by the time I finished filling the water bottles and returned to the car, my clothes were completely dry.

Two hours outside of Colorado, we decided to revisit the enneagram by listening to podcasts about each of our numbers. I insisted we listen to Joseph’s first. 

But, as we got further into it, his comments began to rub me the wrong way. He would agree with it and point out things about himself, saying, “Yes, that’s what I need!” and “That is so me!” The comments themselves were fine – they are actually what is to be expected when someone is learning more about himself. But I felt like they were directed at me, as if I did not  already know who he was. I felt like he was telling me what he needed because he felt I was not currently giving that to him, and that hurt me. 

These feelings probably came up for me because this was not an isolated incident. Just the night before,  Joseph told me that he felt like his love tank was not full. I was so surprised to hear that, considering we just got engaged a little over a week ago and we have been spending so much time together since then. His top love language is quality time, so it didn’t make sense why his love tank would not be full. Joseph’s secondary love language is physical touch, but I also felt like I had been loving him just as much as usual in this area as well. The two of us have agreed to wait until marriage to have sex, not necessarily because of religion, but because we want to learn all the other ways to love one another before having sex, because we know at that time, sex will most likely become the default way to show love. So, I can’t give him that, but that doesn’t mean I have not been able to show him love in other ways. And this pact is nothing new, so I was confused as to why, after over a year of dating, this was suddenly a problem. Joseph always told me I do a good job of loving him. Why would his love tank be decreasing after we got engaged and while we were on the trip of a lifetime? 

I’m repping my “The Africa Doc” t-shirt today. To learn more about this amazing project by my friend, Mark Perry, visit http://theafricadoc.com/

I’m not sure how it came out. I don’t remember what was said or how it came up, but before I knew it, we were pulled over on a side dirt road, tears running down my face, and both of us yelling at each other. It felt like one of the worst fights we had ever had. Joseph didn’t understand why I wasn’t happy, why I wasn’t enjoying learning more about our personalities and how that manifests in our relationship, and he hated that I was hurt, but he didn’t know what he had done wrong. I was distraught that I had apparently not loved him well; I didn’t understand what I had done wrong, and I was hurt that my fiancé seemed to believe that I didn’t already know how to love him well. And, perhaps, I was hurt that maybe that was true. It had always been one of my main goals to make sure he felt loved, and to hear that I failed in that area was devastating to me. 

We got back into the car and continued our drive, tense, exhausted and hurt. The last few days of sleep deprivation and being stuck in the car all day had taken its toll. We each spoke our minds, but neither of us seemed to have the energy to actually solve the problem. After a few minutes of just sitting in an exhausted and uncomfortable silence, I turned to him.

“Can we just get out of that place and start over from here,” I asked.

“Yes, please,” Joseph said. “I hate this. What is happening to us?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think we’re tired.”

“Yes, like I so want to talk to you about this, but I can’t even think through what you’re saying,” Joseph said.

“Same,” I agreed. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”

“I don’t want to be mad at you,” Joseph said. “This is awful.”

“Okay, we’ve both said our peace, right,” I asked.

“Yes.”

“So, let’s just start from here. If you don’t feel loved, for whatever reason, you have to tell me. And then we will work through it.”

“And if you don’t feel loved, you have to tell me,” Joseph said. I agreed, and we both took a deep breath. 

“You want to finish listening to the podcast,” I asked. 

“Yes, I do.” Joseph turned it back on, and we listened through the last fifteen minutes. When we finished, Joseph asked what I thought. 

“It’s definitely you,” I said. “It makes a lot of sense. Especially the part about how you have to remind yourself to be a human ‘being,’ not a human ‘doing.’ I have literally heard you say that.”

“Yeah, there’s so many things that I heard that are things that I have said before, without even knowing that it was a part of my enneagram,” Joseph said. “And that whole part about just wanting affirmation. That’s all I want from people – to know that I did a good job.” I paused for a moment, studying him. 

“Joseph, did I thank you enough for our engagement,” I asked. “I mean, did I let you know how much it meant to me?”

“Yeah, I mean, I put a lot of work into it, but you did tell me,” he said. “But, then, I put a lot of work into this trip, too. And I just don’t feel like you noticed.” 

“I didn’t realize you needed to hear that,” I said. “Of course I noticed! You put so much work into this trip. But, so did I, and I didn’t expect you to thank me for it. We did it together.” I paused, thinking. “Are you sure your top love language isn’t words of affirmation?” Joseph stared at me. 

“Maybe,” he said slowly. 

“I mean, you told me your love tank wasn’t full, but we have spent every moment together. And we have had just as much physical touch as we always do. But, I didn’t affirm you about how amazing your proposal was and how well you did at planning this trip, and suddenly your love tank isn’t full.” We were silent for a moment, thinking. 

“Let’s try something,” I said. I grabbed his hand, gave it a squeeze and a long, tender kiss. Then, I looked deep into his eyes and said, “Joseph, thank you so much for your proposal. It was the proposal of my dreams. I could not have asked for more. It was so amazing, I couldn’t even believe it was for me. You love me so well. And thank you for how much thought and preparation you put into this trip. I was so nervous, but you put in so much work to make me feel comfortable and I really appreciate it.” 

“Thank you,” Joseph said sincerely, and I could see his eyes filled with what almost looked like relief. 

colorado sign

“Which thing meant more to you,” I asked. 

“Which what?”

“Did you even notice that I did two different things,” I asked. Joseph stared at me. “I grabbed your hand and kissed it, and then I affirmed you.” 

“I didn’t even think about you holding my hand,” Joseph said, surprised. “What you said meant everything to me. That filled my cup.”

I always thought it was strange that Joseph didn’t have words of affirmation as his top love language. He has always said that what makes him feel loved is when I listen to him and make him feel seen and heard, yet he has always insisted that his love languages were quality time and physical touch. 

Everyone seems to think that when two people get engaged, their relationship is supposed to be perfect, full of smiles and laughter. And it is, but it’s also filled with struggle, hurt, and difficult conversations. The point is that we know we want to spend the rest of our lives together, despite those challenging times. And today’s fight was actually super important for our relationship. We learned how I could better love Joseph, and when Joseph feels loved, it better enables him to love me well. When we were fighting, it felt like something broke between us, and maybe it did. But, an hour later, it was mended stronger than it was before.

There is no doubt that there will be many more fights, even worse than today’s argument. But I  have no doubt that I want to marry this man, because I know we are both dedicated to working through it and learning how to love each other better. That’s why I said “yes” when he asked me to marry him – not because we are perfect, but because we both recognize we aren’t and that actually makes us stronger. 

I would love to say that the rest of the drive was without any more challenges, but that is not the case. As we drove down the scenic highway, gazing out at the mountains in the distance, both of our cups were filled. Our only annoyance were the mosquitos buzzing around our heads. We slapped at them, hitting the car windows and doors and missing nearly every time. I missed one, and it flew over to Joseph’s side and landed on the windshield. Joseph formed a fist and hit the glass. 

The crack shocked us both. We stared, mouths agape, as it spiderwebbed across the glass. For a moment, we were both still. The mosquito flew away between us, triumphant. Joseph  and I looked at each other, and then we both burst into incredulous laughter. I suppose we will have to get that fixed soon, too.

We drove into Blanca, Colorado, and made it to our campsite. The road, however, was far too rough for our car, and the campsite was crowded with people, so we turned around and drove to our back-up choice. By this point, it was late and we were both exhausted. We had not eaten in eight hours, our bodies ached, and we were ready to go to bed. But when we finally made it down the dirt road, the sign read “Camping prohibited.” Discouraged and weary, we drove back into town, searching for an empty parking lot where we could just sleep in the car. By the time we found a spot, it was far too late to make dinner. We each had a small snack and climbed into the back of the car, and passed out, emotionally and physically exhausted.

But we made it. After three long days, we have arrived in Colorado. 

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Colorado, baby!

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Since the first date with Joseph, my new fiancé, we have talked about our shared dream of going to Colorado.

At the first mention, he had been there before, first for a skiing trip and then once more driving through the state on a road trip. I had not yet had the chance of visiting, but I had always dreamed of going. That following summer, on a cross country running journey, I found myself falling in love with the majestic mountain ranges. Strolling through Denver, I knew this needed to be a place I returned to one day. I had no way of knowing it would be so soon.

During our impromptu staycation last week, Joseph proposed to me that we take a road trip to Colorado. It was just a musing at first, but then, we both grew more serious about the idea. Because of the novel coronavirus, neither of us are working our regular jobs right now, and his graduate school classes don’t start for another month. When again would we have a chance like this?

I agreed, not knowing that Joseph had even more in mind for this trip. On the last day of our staycation, he bent down on one knee and asked me to marry him. Our Colorado trip suddenly became not just a summer road trip, but the celebration of our engagement.

Photo by Jon Mauler – check out more of his amazing photography and videography on his Instagram at https://instagram.com/jonmauler?igshid=1qcaup49os6gk

We had a week to plan, which was not much considering we had to pack all of our food (I am currently on a very strict diet for my health, so fast food is, unfortunately, not an option), and we wanted to stay within a tight budget. 

Despite this, everything came together this morning. With the car packed full with food, sleeping bags, extra blankets, clothes, and our tent, we bid my parents farewell and embarked on our first long driving day just shortly after sunrise.

The first few hours driving into Western Maryland were reminiscent of the road trip we had taken during our staycation just last week, the day Joseph had proposed the Colorado road trip idea. When we crossed the border into West Virginia, what we were doing became real to both us, and our excitement only grew.

We stopped in a Panera parking lot at lunch so I could have reliable wifi for a video call for work. We sat on the curb eating sandwiches and making bitter instant coffee that neither of us wanted to drink. 

That’s when the first misadventure happened. The power box we bought blew the circuit in the cigarette lighter, so we were stuck figuring out how we were going to charge my laptop during this trip. We scanned desperately through Amazon, but found that most of the chargers we needed to replace it (if we could even get them), would be a hundred dollars at the least.

Without much hope, we stopped by a Walmart nearby. We perused the laptop section without any luck. As a last effort, we went to the automotive section, where we found a USB-A to USB-C lightning cable for three dollars! We eagerly ran back to the car to test it out, and to our delight, it worked. Crisis number one was successfully averted.

We continued our drive through West Virginia, marveling at the scenery and listening to music. I found a Pinterest steal this morning about making a playlist to create a soundtrack for your life, and we both had fun picking songs for that and sharing our selections with one another. 

Kentucky was our final destination for today’s travels. We stopped in a Cabela’s parking lot, our “campsite” for the night, just as it was starting to drizzle. Fighting against time, we rushed to light our portable grill and heat up our turkey burgers for dinner. We jumped in the car just as the rain was starting to pour. The burgers weren’t quite warm; unfortunately, they were about the same temperature as the salad we ate it with (which was also not at its ideal temperature after sitting in the cooler all day). But after such a long day, it felt like a five-star meal.

We’re in the car now, the seats pushed down into the floor and our sleeping bags laid out on top for a bit of cushioning. It’s hot and humid, but Joseph had the genius idea of securing a tarp to the side of the car so we could roll down a window. Now, there’s at least a cool breeze blanketing us. The sound of the rain pattering against the car windows is going to be a soothing lullaby for our first night on the road. Honestly, after sixteen hours of being on-the-go, I don’t think anything could keep me awake at this point.

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Fall Day

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I would love to say that I visited the farm on a cool, crisp, windy day, with colorful leaves blowing past my face and the smell of pumpkin spice hanging in the air, but my visit to Spider Hall Farms was far from the quintessential autumn day. It was hot and humid October day in Southern Maryland, a place where the weather is always unpredictable. One day, you will be bundled up in sweaters, scarves and hats and still shivering; the next, you will be sweating in a tank top and shorts, staring at all the fallen leaves around you and wondering what went wrong.

This was one of those days. With my family in tow, I walked through the freshly shaven grass to Spider Hall Farms, a place from my childhood, and a place where I was hoping to relive some lost memories. As a senior in college, I am about to embark upon a new stage in my life with an ending I cannot predict. This uncertainty made me feel that the sense of home I had always found comfort in to be fading away.

Spider Hall Farms, so named because of the “spider hall” that used to form over the dirt lane leading to it, is a family-owned business run by seventh-generation farmers. David and Susan Cox bought the tobacco farm when their children expressed an interest in reviving the family tradition that had ended with their parents. Now, they, their children, and their grandchildren help work on the land.

We stopped first at the petting zoo, where we were not greeted by the fall smell of pumpkin spice, but were treated to another odor I would have rather left undiscovered. Nevertheless, the animals were adorable. The braying goats stuck their heads through the slats of wood of their pen to nibble, because, as always, the grass is greener on the other side. My brother called me over to pet the fur of the llama, which was softer than anything I had ever pet.

The only concerning sight was the turtle, who was trying desperately to escape his tiny, bucket prison, tears leaking from his eyes over his hot, scaly skin.

“Is he okay to be in there like that,” my mother asked the nearby attendant, a brunette girl who looked young enough to still be in high school. “He looks like he needs water.” The attendant replied that he was fine. My mother’s expression was doubtful, so the attendant explained the turtle was from the desert, and he was desperate to get out to roam around and play, not because he was too hot.

From the petting zoo, we watched the children play in the educational exhibits, where they learned about life on the farm. I was amazed to find myself having to stoop into the playhouses that once towered over me and kept me entertained for hours.  Finding only a bittersweet feeling, I left the enclosure and followed my family to the blissfully cool farm store. By now, sweat was pouring down our reddened faces, and we were ready for some refreshments before we visited the main attractions: the corn maze.

Looking around the store, I was reminded of the old Mom and Pop’s stores that used to fill Southern Maryland before it was built into the bustling counties that have taken over today. Glass canning jars lined the shelves, filled with jellies, jams, salsas and pickles. Bushels of apples from Baugher’s Orchard, a farm upstate, sat on the ground. Local artists had hung their artwork on the walls to be sold, and beside this stood fridges and freezers filled with farm fresh milk, cheese, ice cream, yogurt and beef. On the counter, fresh baked pastries filled with pumpkin and apple tempted our appetites, while individually wrapped caramels beckoned from the register.

We decided upon some honeycrisp apples and cranberry orange jack cheese with chocolate milk (“From the brown cows,” I joked). We sat outside the store in rocking chairs as if we were sitting on grandmother’s porch. The sweet apples paired excellently with the sharpness of the jack cheese, which could have been a meal on its own. With hints of tangy orange zest and sweet bursts of cranberry, it had the tastes of an elegant wintry cheese platter in every single bite.

The hayride was next. The prickly, golden stalks poked at our bare legs; hayrides should only be ridden in weather cool enough to wear slacks and flannel. At the corn maze, we were warned the path was particularly difficult this year. Upon learning this, my mother immediately sought out a map.

“A map!” Jake, my brother, exclaimed. “You can’t do a corn maze with a map. That takes all the fun out of it.”

“We don’t have to use it,” Mom said. “It’s for if we get lost.”

“That’s part of the fun,” said Jess, Jake’s girlfriend.

“We don’t need a map,” Jake said firmly, grabbing Jess’s hand. “We’ll do it without one, and we will still beat you.”

And so the race began. I, fumbling along with a badly sprained ankle, was stuck with the slower pair of my parents, who insisted on following the map, while Jake and Jess ran ahead, hand-in-hand, Jake playing the part of the brave guide in the wilderness, and Jess as the damsel by his side.

Oh, to be young and in love.

The corn stalks towered above our heads. From inside the maze, with the rest of the world hidden from view, I found myself remembering a similar experience. The maze had seemed just as confusing and foreboding then, filled with winding bends and a writhing path that left the mind boggled. Then, too, I had followed my mother’s safe form as my brother ran ahead, always the most daring of the group. It occurred to me then that childhood memories were not the moments I should be chasing. As my brother journeyed ahead with a youthful spirit and curiosity, I realized that life, too, is not something to be scared of, but to be daringly explored. Life is an adventure. Like the maze I was trapped in then, it is filled with twists and turns that can send you down unruly and sometimes erroneous paths, but what matters most is knowing the people I love will always be there to help me find my way back home. 

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