3:30 am. I was wide awake at 3:30. The anticipation of hitting the road kept me from sleeping hardly a wink that night, despite being exhausted.
My body and soul were weary from months of monotony. I was overwhelmed by the pressures of life, with not enough mountain air for my lungs, adventure under my feet and trout in my hands. The routine was slowly killing me. My exhaustion was so great that I almost couldn't muster the energy to drive 27 hours, be adventurous.
Regardless, Jacob and I packed out little Subaru full of fly rods, a few clothes, a tent and hearts full of anticipation. At 5:00 am we left our dogs and familiarity for a two week sojourn across the US to Durango, CO.
The east coast was filled with familiarity. We counted Cracker Barrels and "Adult Superstores." We noticed how after every superstore, there was a billboard explaining how disappointed God was in us and repentance was necessary. This occupied the time well.
Nashville was overwhelming. Memphis was hot. Arkansas has horrible roads. Oklahoma was flat.
Texas has the Cadillac Ranch.
New Mexico has too many "must stop" places, none of which are very exciting at all. Trust me, we stopped.
Finally we started making our way up in elevation. The boring desert turned into pillars of freshly painted mystery. The reds, oranges, purples and blues went on forever, splattered with green shrubs, joining with the sky to form a perfect piece of art. We kept climbing steadily for what seemed like an eternity and just a blink of the eye all at the same time.
Then, all of a sudden,. we had made it! Well, almost...
We had our first look at those mountains. The mountains that, little did we know, would change us.