Our story begins with a lovely, gentle dawn giving way to a soft morning and the invasive buzzing of an alarm clock. This, like many other mornings, was an early wake-up call for a day filled with mountains and breathless adventure! Rushing to file everything into place in preparation for a day of stumbling, we made a tired couple on our drive up to Estes Park. It was on this fine morning that we inadvertently cut off a white SUV, both preventing their parking and stealing a parking spot that was not, in fact, a parking spot. Oops.
Utilizing some excellent cartography skills, we set a route for Sky Pond that would carry us along glacier falls, adding some mileage to our trip. Setting upon the trail, we became so engrossed in our conversation that we failed to realize that we had made an incorrect turn until it was far too late. Four miles later, we decided upon a different destination. After all, what's life without whimsy?Little did we know that this misdirection was not the only navigatory failure we would have that day.
Mountains hiking, somehow, brings our hearts to the surface. Sharing stories and thinking of the many challenges we've faced in our short lives, we laughed our way along the long trail. The scenery itself was incredible-- the surrounding peaks were framed by treeline, reaching to the sky in the gentle majesty that I have come to long for in my purple mountain range. Coming across other hikers, they applauded our audacity. Something about this trail seemed difficult to them. We laughed-- so kind! How is it that other hikers are always so jovial? Perhaps it is the fresh mountain air.
Oh, my.
The trek back was also gorgeous, but now it became clear that our incline has been fierce and relatively unnoticed on our first cycle. The trail never seemed to end, looming from on switchback corner to the next. Now quite hot, we stripped ourselves of our pride and whatever upper layer we may have been wearing and continued in jolly, disgruntled silence punctuated by heavy breathing and (mostly) playful taunting.
In case you have not experienced this prior to reading, hiking can-- somehow-- lead to the development of a temporary Sailor's Mouth. Oh, the words that fly. Creative, perforating dialog springs from otherwise civilized mouths. It's natural, I think-- it happens to the best of us.
Reaching the late afternoon, we began to look forward to our drive home. This was, of course, premature fantasy. Less than a mile from our car, we were once again following the wrong trail.
"I don't remember this stream.""The trail wasn't this sandy, was it?"
"What lovely Aspens! I must have been thinking so intensely that I missed them the first time around."
"I don't remember this trail being open to horseback riders."
No. It was not that we had not been paying enough attention, or that the lighting was different, or that we had simply "missed" these part of the trail. This was, in fact, a different trail.
One bad omen became another. We had passed a group of riders, navigating the trail from atop their sturdy steeds. Looking back, we should have known. Coming upon horses this season seems to be a bad sign for our internal compasses-- both time resulted in an addition of four miles to our journeys. That's an extra (NEEDLESS) 8-miles to our summer total.
Oh, the shame. Two young adults who think they know it all...well, we're learning. The third time is the charm, yeah?
Needless to say, we loved the adventure. The mountain lives in my heart, and there is something secret locked away that our trails coax out of me. Perhaps it is the sound of the wind or the stillness that is anything but still. Perhaps it is the open sky or the rustle of trees.
In any case, this was a lesson in letting the universe be your guide. Clearly, today's journey was not the trek itself, but the experience we shared. Passing along wise words and heartfelt stories is a day well spent, regardless of the foot pain.
With love.
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