Life can be tough.
Even those of us that have stable jobs, happy family relationships, and adequate housing can find that sometimes, things just don't seem to go the way we necessarily expect. I've always struggled with depression, and a few years ago, I was going through a particularly rough patch. My mental health was down the drain and life felt stagnant. I was temporarily in between housing arrangements, which meant that I was away from my beloved pets. I have a lot of animals, and I love them, but they can make it a little difficult to take spur-of-the-moment vacations.
I'm typically not able to take lengthy trips more than a handful of times a year, and any sort of excursion involves extensive planning and instructions for the house sitter to care for my horde. But at this time, I was alone, with no one relying on me coming home and no one to feed but myself. It should have been a freeing feeling, but in my current state of mind, it just felt bad.
I do a lot of work with local animal rescues here in Georgia and it's something I'm quite passionate about. It's not uncommon for me to handle transporting a stranger's cats an hour or two away for a neuter, and I've frequently taken brief day trips to bring dogs or cats to nearby cities if there were fosters or rescues able to take them in. At this time, I happened to be chatting with a fellow rescuer who mentioned that the local animal control had a few dogs that needed a ride to Colorado. Like many municipal animal shelters in the South, ours was full, and at that time, the Centennial State had a shortage of dogs and an abundance of adopters. I'd mentioned that I was temporarily pet-less and she asked if I'd be interested in transporting two dogs across the country to Colorado.
Honestly, I didn't even have to think: I immediately said yes. I came to my office job the next day and asked my manager if it would be possible for me to take a few days off. She asked if I was going to see my parents, who lived across the state, and I said no, that I'd be going to Colorado... and the unique part about it was that I had to be back in just three and a half days.
I was allowed to borrow a van from a local rescue so I didn't have to take my poor old sedan on the trip, but the catch was that they needed it back in just a few days for another transport. That gave me about half a week to drive Brendan the boxer mix and Sadie the lab mix the 1,460 miles to Denver, drop them off at a foster home, then get back, with no one to assist with driving.
Honestly, I don't remember too much about the drive there. I was in a haze of depression and enjoying the rush of adrenaline that comes from a last-minute trip like this. The journey there was a chaotic itinerary of fast food, sleeping on the floor in the back of the van between the dog crates for warmth, and stopping every few hours to take them on leashed walks through gas station parking lots.
The one thing I do remember, though, is my arrival in Denver. I safely dropped Brendan and Sadie off at their new foster home and I had less than an hour to spend in the city after that. I'm accustomed to meandering my way through vacations, stopping at thrift stores, poking around book shops, grabbing a coffee -- no real timeline or care in the world as to when I arrive at my final destination. This was an entirely different beast, and the clock was ticking.
I briefly considered taking a trip into the Mile-High City to see the sights, but I've been to big cities before, and I didn't want to risk getting stuck in traffic. I browsed Google for a bit, panicking at the time I was wasting deciding, and then finally landed on a destination: I'd hit up Red Rocks Park and Amphitheatre in Morrison, just outside of Denver.
I'm a huge fan of live music, and this is probably the country's best-known outdoor venue. Jimi Hendrix, U2, The Grateful Dead, John Denver, Rush, and countless other huge names have performed here over the years. The day that I was there had no music, but it was still the most incredible experience of my life.
I've been up and down the East Coast and I've seen plenty of mountains, including those in North Georgia and New York, but I've truly never witnessed anything like the landscape surrounding the amphitheater at Red Rocks. Now these, these were mountains.
Seeing the towering infinite landscape around me somehow made me feel simultaneously oh-so small and also a part of the world in a way I had never felt before. It didn't cure me, of course - I knew I'd still have my housing issues when I returned back to Georgia, but I was shocked how much the natural beauty touched me so, so deeply and made me feel whole. The entire trip felt like a grounding experience that I've never felt before or since. I walked along a trail for a little bit and then sat up on a rock overlooking the view and cried, because the overwhelming rush of emotions was as big as the rocks that surrounded me.
It's six years later now, I own my own home and I've yet to return to Red Rocks, but I think of that trip so, so often. It may not have been my most relaxing vacation, but it was an unforgettable experience that reminded me just how scenic America can be and how much adventure is always waiting, if you're only willing to go out and discover it.
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