I’ve missed writing. I’ve missed documenting my life and having the account of my travels as a forever keepsake, there for me to reread and reminisce. It was also fun (and flattering) to share it with others and have people (a short list that includes my mom) asking in anticipation when my next post would be up. The act of sitting outside at a cafe with my dog and laptop was also missed, which is what really drew me today to Huckleberry Roasters in Denver to finally sit down and write.
I’ve been living in Denver now for four months. As much as I wanted this for myself, needed it, knew it was best, I was prepared to be miserable. Leaving a city and people I love to be utterly alone in a foreign place didn’t sound like a joyous time. I did and still do miss Boston and everyone that I could see within an hour or two if I wanted, but otherwise, the transition has been quite easy, actually. I suspect that the main reason for this is Henley. How could I feel homesick when I brought my home with me? I think the perfect weather had a lot to do with it too. I left New England’s winter and came to this gorgeous state with sunshiney days year round. I’m not miserable in a t-shirt and shorts in February, soaking in the sun at a park a few blocks away from my apartment, with far less car horns blaring, and infinitely more smiles from strangers. We have a different trail to hike or mountain to climb every time we walk out the door. The possibilities there are endless. The rent here is about half of that in Boston. The mountain views are breathtaking and you can be amongst the giants in under thirty minutes. And the sun! I know I already said that one, but it’s worth mentioning again. It’s so warm and toasty and dry. The snow has dumped on us a couple of times, but instead of accumulating all winter until it’s warm enough to melt in the spring like in Massachusetts, it melts in a couple days and you’re back to sun bathing at the park.
I’m a real live nurse now and well, it’s really hard. It’s exhausting. I don’t regret it for a second, but…shit. Every day I wonder what it’d be like to work in an office. I know nursing (at least some kind of it) is for me, but I do day dream about an easier job at times. To not have to wake up at 5 a.m. and not be back home until 8:30 at night. To not have to use my brain constantly for thirteen plus hours. To not have the responsibility of someone’s life in my hands. I know there’s more difficult and much worse jobs out there, but this is my blog so I get to act like I’m a hardworking saint if I want to. I’m proud of myself, though. I often think I can’t believe I’m doing what I’m doing. And that’s rewarding. Sometimes it’s enough to get me through the day.
Not to sell short the ability to save lives as a nurse, but the best part of my job? Working three days a week, making my own schedule, and easily being able to have eight days off in a row without having to take time off. Miserably working (if you hate your job) five sevenths of the week, going home to eat dinner, watch TV, and going to bed to get up and do it again, and waiting for your two day weekend sounds like complete hell, a waste of existence, and one of the worst parts of our culture, right after human trafficking. That life is not for me and I am SO grateful I’ve been able to avoid it.
On all of my days off Henley and I have done a lot of hiking. There’s a great website I use called Day Hikes Near Denver and it categorizes hikes by length, distance from the city, beauty (depending on if you want waterfalls, wild flowers, red rocks, etc.), and difficulty, as well as lists for best dog-friendly hikes, best spring hikes, etc. We’ve checked out some nearby cities like Boulder and Colorado Springs. We’ve driven through the mountains and camped in deserty Utah. I participated in the Rockies baseball opening day with a bunch of coworkers because there’s no better team building exercise than day drinking. I’ve visited breweries (there’s about one per block), eaten a lot of tacos (probably the only cuisine Denver can do better than Boston), and soaked in hot springs. I’ve met some great people here, some new like me, so it’s been nice to explore with a buddy. And I’ve been lucky to have a few visitors from home! I love sharing this amazing new home of mine. I’m always hoping it will sell my friend into moving here because the only thing that would make this place better is the people I love…and the ocean.
We just got home from a few days of exploring more of Colorado. We drove south west with intentions of hiking to the Blue Lakes in the Mount Sneffels Wilderness, but driving through Gunnison I realized a turn off the road here brings me right to Crested Butte and I have missed Crested Butte since we first met last July on our cross country road trip. So I made a quick decision and hanged a right. Twenty three miles down the road, a lot farther than I remembered, brought us to the quaint, wholesome, active community of Crested Butte, Colorado. Another very slow six or so miles brought us to the most beautiful (and cheapest) campsites. These last few miles is when it started snowing — fat, wet snowflakes. We found a perfect spot, got out and marveled, and quickly got back in, already damp. I put on all the layers I brought, still not enough because I wasn’t planning on camping on a snowy mountain, and we lazed around the car, reading and snacking, until the snow stopped. I heated up hot water to warm my hands holding my tin cup. We played on the river’s shore, Henley running around with big sticks, every moment filled with beauty. Even in the clouds and light snow covering on the ground and no summer wildflowers in sight, it is still one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. It was right then that I decided that Crested Butte was on my top favorite places list, perhaps ranking in the top three.
The next day we drove to the Blue Lakes trailhead. I don’t know when I’ll get it through my head that Denver weather does not equal mountain weather. I know this but I continually arrive somewhere and think Oh, it’s really cold or Oh, there’s a lot of snow here. DUH. So we started the hike, there was patches of snow, but doable, then the snow patches come more frequently until the dirt patches disappeared and we were trekking through hip-deep snow. The trail was completely invisible so I followed a couple sets of footprints that looked to be at least a day old, from before a snowfall, hoping they knew where they were going. Some of the time I could stay on top of the snow if I walked right in the footprints, but about once every sixty seconds I fell through, crotch deep. Henley had the same problem. After a while, he got tired of fighting it and fell in up to his shoulders, chin on the snow, and he just stayed there, butt in the air, completely defeated.
I came to realize that I have seen rivers everywhere since I moved out here. It then dawned on me, a little flashback from fifth grade or so, that I was witnessing the hydrologic cycle. These waters were melted ice and snow and fallen precipitation. I was seeing it in its runoff phase, heading to be ground water, lakes, and the ocean, where it will evaporate into the atmosphere and start over. Fascinating! I guess I knew it happened, but until I saw several waterfalls and rushing rivers up in the mountains, it seemed like another story they tell us in school that must be myth, like dinosaurs and party line telephone circuits. The natural world is a beauty and it’s all around us, but we do such a terrific job blocking it with tall buildings and billboards, ignoring it by being consumed with electronics 24/7, and disguising it as a weekend getaway.
When we reached the top of a moderate climb, we were standing in a glacial basin, surrounded by about two hundred degrees of rugged, snowy, peaks, each over thirteen and fourteen thousand feet. I gawked and wandered looking for the footprints to lead the way. I had not brought a map, nor did I have service to look at it online. The trail could have gone in any direction and there was no way of me knowing where without the footprints. Not to mention I was already scared just standing there. I don’t know a lot of about avalanches, but I was quite certain I was surrounded by the possibility of one. A couple came up behind me, who had been following my tracks and also had no idea which way to go. While we looked around together, we heard a crack, as if the weight of sliding snow broke a tree, although we couldn’t see anything so there’s no way to know. We had just turned around, thinking we missed a turn, when we came across another couple who were much more prepared with maps, gaiters, poles, and a watch that told elevation. They pointed the way, directly up a snowy wall of rock. The lakes were close the but climb was very steep and in snow without the pre-packed down footprints. Whenever I want to quit something, I never do, because I know I will feel awful after. When I finish whatever I had considered quitting, it feels so good. On this day, I quit, and I didn’t feel too bad about it. And that’s how I know it was a good decision. Death by snow entrapment was not worth a pretty hike to me. I had just seen a day and a half of pretty and I was okay leaving with that, even if it meant missing a glacial lake on top of a mountain. My feet were soaked, falling through the snow constantly wasn’t a fun hike, and I had other things to do that day. I looked up at where he pointed to, and said nope, no thanks, bye. I will be back, Blue Lakes, in August.
We then drove to Telluride, a really cool mountain town, just to say hello, then headed south to Durango. Durango is a small city complete with a historic but still running railroad, horse drawn carriages, cowboys, and the feeling you’re in the Old West. After dinner in town, we drove another thirty minutes south to the Southern Ute Indian Reservation. Their annual Bear Dance was going the whole long weekend plus a two day pow wow. There’s nothin’ like a good pow wow! Really, the drumming, singing, dancing, and costumes are captivating. I feel honored when I am at one, that I am allowed to watch people so proud of their culture, and while they’re so deeply in it, celebrating it, and showing it off. This would be wonderful in any culture, but I feel especially connected to the Native American culture. I was enchanted by the Indians for a couple days before heading back north. We’ll be coming back down south on our next adventure soon. I thought Henley would look good in Texas!
Henley’s stretched across my lap on the bench I’m sitting at and it feels like we’re back on our cross-country road trip. I love doing life like this. So if anyone was wondering how things were going in this new chapter of my life, this post is for you. I’m doing just fine.
