The temperature dropped last night. While the kids and I began the evening in our hammocks, by the morning we all were piled together on our bed rolls and sleeping bags. It was cold.
We left Santa Fe and headed north. We drove through beautiful country with the Sangre De Cristo mountain range on our east. We passed small town after small town as we made our way into Colorado. The Ute mountain and the Blance mountain stood tall and guiding for miles and miles.
The road wound it’s way through the Rio Grande National Forest and Gunnison National Forest. The landscape altered between rocky, jagged mountains, green, lush valleys and everything in between.
We crossed over the Continental Divide and easily could have missed the small, unimpressive sign that indicated this milestone.
After 372 miles we arrived at our third night camp spot. Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park in Colorado was as impressive and inspiring as promised. Climbing up to a whopping 10,000 plus feet, the canyon was fierce and dramatic.
Below are some of the best pictures we took.
The silence shocks me the most.
Quiet. Holy. Sacred. A space reserved for simple appreciation.
If you aren’t careful, you may miss it altogether.
The depth of the canyon is endless. The small ripples of white foam speckles the water that snakes through the bottom. Slowly the current cuts through the rock. Deeper and deeper – without care or even awareness of the ferocious rock it left divided above.
All those observing can only watch and admire– in recognition and awe of the space between.
The night then explodes with diamonds that speckle every space of the sky.