Touching down onto the pitch-black tarmac that rolled into the night sky long after the sun went to sleep, there was no telling what would await me in the glow of the morning as the moon would secede to the initiation of the following day that set upon the Centennial State.
A billowy blanket of snow sprawled across the everlasting landscape as each of their unique crystals glistened in the soft sunlight that almost seemed warm enough to still a shiver with deceit. The view that accompanied the crisp aura that lingered in the atmosphere was able to take my breath away almost as much as the high altitude did. It had a sort of familiarity to it that embraced me in its comforting grasp while also stirring up a scurry of butterflies from within the pit of my stomach that was indicative of the exhilaration from what lay ahead.
The city center of Denver was the powerhouse of the organism that pumped life into all accompanying ligatures that composed the entity of Colorado itself. The flow of cells that we were along on this particular day brought us an hour and a half outside of the beating heart to Keystone. Traversing the winding highway that looped through the towering mountains that grew from the base of the road we were upon was an immaculate experience in itself; each corner we would turn displayed a more beautiful version of the scene before it as the pristine mountain tops would become more and more shrouded in a glistening white sheet. The gleam was only accentuated more by the radiating sunshine in the absence of clouds that were nowhere in sight.
As the air began to decrease in oxygen and increase in chill, it became evident that a day on the icy slopes without proper headgear was out of the question; apparently there wasn’t enough room in my suitcase for a helmet since my ego took up the majority of the room when I was initially packing for this adventure. After making a pit stop at a shop that was expertly situated for last minute snow-goers lacking gear (akin to myself) a few miles down the road from the resort, we were in the final stretch of anticipation before we’d be gliding upon the Rocky Mountain powder. All that was left to conquer was the trekking of our gear across the overpopulated parking lot, the loading of ourselves and our cargo onto a shuttle that ran like clockwork, and the dreadful lugging of the aforementioned entities to the gondolas to grant us momentary rest before finally strapping ourselves onto our means of transportation back down.
The undulant snow-topped mountains were enough of a distraction to keep my head from wanting to flee my being due to the suffocating lack of oxygen that was all-encompassing. The only thing that linked me to the reality of my surroundings was the solid ground beneath my feet, but even the glossy black asphalt was as pristine as the picturesque evergreens since it could house every individual snowflake that perched upon it in its exact form at its final destination with the utmost care; I was as speechless as I was breathless.
I would like to say the course of the day went as smoothly as the powder that we glided down upon on the few runs that we were able to fit in over the course of six hours, but I’d only be painting a picture of serenity to deny the mishaps that followed suit. People will warn you of the dangers of high altitude, whatnot with the diminishing of the intake of air and how scary things that were once a passing afterthought will hit you, yet you’ll still insist that you have it under control. Many have only read of this information to house this secondhand advice to use on others when they hear of their plans of adventures to the peaks, so you’ll naturally brush it to the side with a meek thanks paired with subconscious undertones of skepticism.
Guilty as charged.
Our poison of choice to make a believer out of us was four airplane nips of Smirnoff Infusions Vodka (two for each of us) that we purchased from a corner convenience store near our hotel the night before while we were giddy off the excitement of where we were as we were out on a late-night pizza crawl. The arrogance we had in our approach to inhaling these baby shots mixed with the steadfast mindset that made us forget how much of lightweights we were even at sea level proved that the reactions that followed suit were not due to a placebo effect. It was as immediate as a pain that wraps around an area of impact after getting punched by someone wearing brass knuckles. The theme of cockiness remained true since we chose to down these while resting atop one of the highest peaks of the day while we were taking a momentary pause to soak in the beauty of the seemingly unreal that encompassed us. This peace lasted all of 20 seconds after consumption since my brain immediately resorted to creating reasonable excuses other than alcohol at a high altitude as to why I suddenly had a wave of distortion wash over me. I may have played the part well of a sober snowboarder shredding between other mountain inhabitants and barriers, but by no means was the exterior confidence matching the interior demise that was slowly arising.
Oh, the irony of it.
It was late enough now that using the need of food as an excuse to halt our shredding endeavors was not so far-fetched and outlandish, so I could still withhold the image of a calm demeanor without breaking my character of composure. I was hurting… bad; just the thought of lacing back up to mime our actions from the hours before made me ill and filled with disdain towards the very thing that we solely journeyed hours out here for. After seeking out refuge in the snow village that was situated at the foot of the gondola lift, we settled for an outdoor table at Spoon in hopes that remaining in the icicle-producing atmosphere would contribute to a speedy recovery. I tried to mindlessly shovel the fries I ordered into my mouth as if each one equated to a puzzle piece needed to put together the big picture of our purpose to motivate me once again, but I was evidently beyond the point of greasy goodness repair.
In hindsight, I could have just called it with no fear of remorse or judgment from my companion, but my foggy stupor enjoys dancing with the devil, so I idiotically agreed to a few more sessions. Spoiler alert: I should have just ended on a high note that would have allowed me to keep my dignity intact. To prevent a further series of ramblings, I will just eliminate the fluff of this purgatory and state that the moment of realization that it was time to call it quits was when I collided with a novice skier. I was fortunate that they were a child of good spirits who got a solid laugh out of it and even bragged to their mother about how cool their somersaults were, but that initial scare of potentially injuring them beyond using the medicine of laughter was enough to put our day in reverse to get us out of our gear and back on the road.
I was lost in limbo between feeling wrecked from the mountain and feeling shot from the… well, shots. The main point of distraction from the pain that was circulating my body was the snowstorm that fell from the skies when the heavens opened up; a beautiful surprise that brought a bit of brightness back into my dreary eyes and momentarily ailed my failing soul to allow me to leave my shell to numbly enjoy the wonders of nature I almost forgot existed due to my new adaptation to my Florida residency. What a contrast the darkness that shrouded the last bit of sunshine from the day served as in comparison to the lightness that I felt from the peace that this subpar weather washed over me. With an iced Starbucks drink in my hands as well as fallen snowflakes I caught out my rolled-down driver’s side window to observe the unique crystallized compositions of these wondrous beauties, I had all I needed to power-up my second wind to get us back to the sanctuary of warmth in our hotel’s quarters.
Do not ask me what else was in my iced drink besides caffeine because whatever secret ingredient was added to it washed an inclination over me that had me lacing up my running sneakers and dragging my friend down to the gym with me as I attempted to further torment my body in this altitude upon a dreadmill… sorry, I meant treadmill… (no I didn’t). After a mile of heaving breaths, the energy booster must’ve worn off since I came to my senses and called it quits voluntarily before my body would collapse involuntarily. Dragging myself to the elevator to bring us back up to our room was hard enough but mustering up enough willpower to meet up with my cousin and her friend to go out to dinner at the Happy Camper felt in parallel to that of Mission: Impossible. It was such a shame to feel so lackluster at such a pristinely cute establishment; it was composed of a clear enclosure that had a front row view of the remnants of the miracle work of the elements, along with some scattered outdoor heated lamps to bring a sense of coziness and warmth back into our chilled blood from waiting in line outside for a coveted spot to become available.
I became acquainted with the cut of the wood used to craft our table and the texture of the grain that cushioned my pounding head as it sought solace in its stability while I counted down the seconds to our departure. Although it would not have taken a rocket scientist to detect my discomfort, I still appreciated the quick wit of my friend to not ask but rather snatch the car keys from my hands to take over the pilot seat to lead us back to our base. Some small sighs of longing permeated the heated atmosphere of our vehicle that hinted towards one last pitstop at every “plant-based” New Yorkers Colorado dream: a dispensary. I weakly mumbled reassurance to serve as my token of appreciation for him putting up with the empty shell of my being on our last night and that was ignition enough to launch my friend back out into the cold and into his version of a candy shop. As I meekly waited in the parked passenger seat with fluttering eyes that were heavy from the altitude and the events of the day, I was momentarily able to capture the darting movements of my excited friend who looked as giddy as a toddler at an amusement park who was finally tall enough to ride a rollercoaster.
On my next blink, I was gently being shook awake along with words of reassurance that we were back at the hotel and that I should head up to our room to get a much-needed head start to my pillow to aid my painful sleep deprivation. It was a blur of events that subconsciously floated my entity through the lobby, onto the elevator, and down the hall to our door, but years of mindless skincare routines have been perfected to ensure that my morning self would always appreciate my night self. I slipped beneath the paper quilt that felt as comforting as Egyptian cotton sheets in my receding state and laid my head on a square box that lovingly cradled my dome that seemed to be the current residence of my pounding heart. Before I surrendered to the slumber, I heard the beep of an accepted entry at our front door and caught one final glance of a teethed grin gliding through the doorway as I drifted off into oblivion with a mirrored expression on my face.
It’s amazing what an antidote sleep and Starbucks serves as to altitude sickness for those were the two remedies to cure me of my daze the following morning. It was an insipid trek back to the airport once I got my footing (or rather, my head and stomach) to follow suit in an orderly manner that didn’t involve the overwhelming need to faint or hurl… or both. One last longing look at the snow-capped mountains from the frosted oval airplane window seat left an impressionable image that embedded itself not only into my brain but the roots of my very being. I may reside by the water in Florida, but the siren calls from the rolling landscape in Colorado brought me a peace that my new home has yet to provide.
I’ll return sooner rather than later, and for a much longer period of time at that.
<3 Tay