saxicoline.

[sak-sik–uh-lin, -lahyn]

adjective, Botany, Zoology

1. living or growing among rocks.

I sat in the sunshine at a coffee shop called The Daily Dose in Crested Butte and enjoyed about half my daily dose of caffeine. I shared a campsite with a father and his son last night and I could not have enjoyed myself more. The campground was full and they took pity on me and if you want to hear the whole story, you’ll have to buy my next book about making friends!

I have to really plan ahead and not rely on internet because the prettiest places don’t have a connection, so I started making some calls and taking screenshots of directions. My new friend, Garrett, recommended I see the canyon at Glenwood Springs so I called the campground on the river and said, “I might be dreaming, but do you have a tent site available for tonight?”

She laughed and said, “I might have ONE available right by the river!”

I booked it quickly and spent too much money.

The Hanging Lake is only six miles away from the campground. I have been warned that you have to get there at around 5am to even get a parking spot. And when I read reviews about how it’s like Disney World because of all the people, I immediately think “Eh, I don’t need to see that.” Then I see a photo and I think, “Well, I could wake up at 5…”

I set up camp and then learned they have showers! The last several places haven’t had running water, so this is a real treat. I feel like a million bucks. I will say though, it was nice making friends while filthy because I felt like they really liked me for me, not because I smelled nice or had pretty hair.

I sat down to eat the rest of my freeze-dried chili from yesterday that I had in my cooler which didn’t have ice in it. I also poured some Woop Woop red wine. I sipped and waved to the rafters floating by. I checked the weather and saw that rain might be headed my way. It was about 4:30pm. Then it hit me, I bet everyone else in the area was sitting down to their dinner and their Woop Woop wine and would not be hiking the steep climb to Hanging Lake. I grabbed my keys and headed out. I was right.

The parking lot was nearly empty and I scurried up the trail. The signs were correct about labeling the hike “difficult”, but my Americano was still working in my favor. It started to rain and it wet my already wet hair and cooled me off. The whole trail was beautifully green and full of chipmunks mocking my slower pace. The creek running from the Hanging Lake made its appearance every few hundred yards, so taking breaks made sense for several reasons: a break from severe elevation gain, to gaze, to notice the saxicoline wildflowers, and to throw up a prayer about how grateful you are to be alive and to be part of this breathtaking creation. It’s overwhelming.

Please note the rain drops on the lake. So peaceful.

I would’ve stayed longer and taken it all in, but I was afraid the rocks were getting slippery from the rain. I went up to every family or group of friends and asked, “Want a picture all together?” because I’m a lot like my cousin, Julie. (I hope I am in a lot of ways actually.)