Quiet Lake and the Practice of Letting Go, Silverton, CO

It is time to move on. I hope to find myself back in Ancient Echo someday, but for now, my journey continues.

My next reservation is only toward the end of the month for parking at Maroon Bells. I am truly excited and hope to be there in time to experience the Aspen trees in their golden stage of color.

For now, I am heading up the Million Dollar Highway. I have a few set points to visit, and some I will just play by ear.

The landscape since I left Durango has been absolutely breathtaking. The Million Dollar Highway is considered one of the most beautiful highways in the USA, but also one of the most dangerous. Am I intimidated by it?  Yes, I am!

Who am I kidding? When I get to Andrew Lake late in the afternoon and take the short hike around it, I find all the excuses to stay for the night instead of continuing to my next stop. I convinced myself that I need to acclimate back to the high altitude. The last two weeks I have only been around 6,000 feet, not to mention the many months I lived at 7,000–8,000 feet. Then I decided that the aspen leaves are not yet starting to change colors, so I definitely need to stay at Andrew Lake for the night. As if one day will make a difference. Fear can be really funny sometimes. :)

Andrew Lake is a gem! A lake in the alpine, so peaceful. After a wonderful conversation with Kayla, who has been van camping in the parking lot for the last three days, I feel I have found my home for the night.

I check my options for harder hikes than the loop around the lake and decide that in the morning, I will hike Snowdon Peak Trail.

As the sun starts her journey for the night, I set my chair facing the lake, all bundled up. Andrew Lake is located above 10,000 feet in elevation, and the temperatures are dropping rapidly.

But what magic! As the sun goes down, she highlights the mountains around me, reflecting their glory on Andrew Lake, leaving me speechless. I am filled with gratitude for the beauty of life and the privilege of experiencing it.

By now I add a hat, gloves, and an extra jacket, waiting patiently for the moon to rise. When your face takes a full smile with no one around you, you know you are experiencing a moment of pure joy.

The silence is beyond gorgeous. The mountains are sleeping. The trees are resting. The only sound that enters the silence is the splash of a fish on the quiet lake.

It always surprises me how fast the moon rises. Tonight the moon is full and so bright that I cannot capture this magic on my camera. I sit for a while until I am frozen and need to warm up.

Ouch, it is a very cold night! I bundle up with a few layers of clothing, trying to stay warm.

Good morning, gorgeous sunrise — what a blessing!

I am all packed and ready to start my hike when, in a matter of minutes, the skies change their mood. A heavy cloud covers everything in sight, thunder cracks in the air, and pouring rain chases me back to my car.

I am cold and frustrated. :(

Luckily for me, there is reception at Andrew Lake. The clear weather I thought I would have is not happening. I recheck the forecast for the next few days, and now I see very cold temperatures and heavy flooding ahead.

I sit in my car trying to figure out a new plan. These are the times when decision-making becomes emotionally exhausting.

Not that someone can make the decision for me, but reaching out to my Power Girls back home with a group text eases the weight a bit.

Those moments when things do not go my way are a good reminder to practice letting go and to melt into my dance with the universe.

I have no choice but to change all the exciting spots I was looking forward to camping at. My plan now is to head to Silverton to see if I can get a bed in the hostel there.

The Avon Hotel is a charming place. Rustic, just as I like it, and clean as I need it to be. I am lucky enough to secure a bed in the smallest room that accommodates three people. The less the better.

Of course, the sun is smiling at me now, poking her tongue at me saying, “see, I fooled you again.”

The day is still young, and a hike is all I want and need right now. I take Kayla’s advice and go to check out Little Molas Lake.

I am not thrilled that the last part of the road to the trail is a dirt road. It is wet, and I do not trust my front-wheel drive vehicle in these conditions. The road seems packed and solid at first, so I keep going until I reach a stretch with deep holes. At that point, I know testing my car is not worth the risk.

I turn back and park where I had seen a Jeep earlier. I know I am not far from the trailhead, and I figure a few extra steps will be part of the hike anyway.

That is when I met Jackie and Bob. Sometimes all I need is a short conversation to feel the energy of like-minded people. Right away I sense I am among kind souls. When they offer me a ride to the trailhead in their Jeep, I gladly accept.

They know the area well and suggest a different trail than the lake I had planned to visit. Instead, they are heading up to a ridge, and it feels right to join them. Even though I usually treasure my solitude, sometimes it is a gift to share the path with others.

As we climb, the skies darken and raindrops begin to fall. The last thing we need is lightning on an exposed ridge. We manage to make it down safely and even pause at their friend’s campsite to share lunch. Unfortunately, the drizzle returns not long after, and I decide it is best not to risk driving on a muddy dirt road.

Of course, as I am back in Silverton, the sun comes out again. At least now I can explore the historical town, surrounded by beautiful, majestic mountains.