There's a certain speed at which the roar of passing wind shifts to a soothing song. My right hand steered the wheel while my left hung out the window, pleasantly being stabilized by the wind.
JT and I had a week's worth of driving and adventures behind us. Thanks to a job opportunity for him in California, the possibility for an adventure began to take shape. Paired with my recent decision to enlist, it made for a great reason to take the time off work and join him. We each stood at the doorstep of great and unknown chapters in our lives. The way we saw it, what better way to break the ice of our new chapters, than a 14-day never before seen cross country road trip, with your oldest friend.
At this point, our merits included: hiking a piece of the Appalachian trail in The great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee, climbing and catapulting off the cliffs of Paradise Cove, summiting the tallest sand dunes of North America, conquering the mile high, 2,768 stepped, 50-plus degree Incline of Manitou Springs, and strolling under the great shadows of the Garden of the Gods. That's just to name a few, we also discovered Arkansas is a real place.
Today, our destination was the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park in Midwest Colorado. More specifically it was the campsite that sat next to its riverbed, about 1,800 feet below from where we were currently driving.
As the sun set, a blanket of golden glow casted itself over the canyon. I returned my left hand to the wheel, and pressed the brakes to carefully navigate the first sharp turn. Upon our main descent into the canyon, rather than be greeted with the pleasant natural air, a smell I could only describe as rude disrupted the both of us.
“Wildfires again?” JT said while he repeatedly reset his phone's internet for a news update.
“It must be close.” I replied, examining our surroundings the best I could. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but the more we descended towards our destination the more we exchanged concerning glances.
“The smell is getting worse. Either we're getting closer or man I don't know,” JT’s voice tinged with unease. There was no source of emitting smoke, not on the car or anywhere around.
“It’s probably just someone burning something they shouldn't at the campground, we'll be there soon and maybe ask someone there,” JT said assuringly. I decided to share his outlook, and rather than worry I tried my best to enjoy the drive down the zig zagged road.
After about 45 minutes and far less concerning glances, the Park Ranger building signaled our arrival to the bottom. Once I parked, the sound of sizzling gave me the first clue to the source of our mystery. JT and I stepped out of the car with complete and utter shock written all over our faces. Shocked, not just because of what we saw, but for the realization that our adventure would be coming to an end.
“The brakes, they’re red, glowing red like, like hot metal melting red,” I said not knowing such a site was even possible. I grew up with a wood burning stove and after a brief time of steadily feeding it wood, the top inner part of the stove would look this same color. I continued to stare in disbelief. JT was still speechless and I also didn't know what to say yet.
We didn't know where to start. Could a tow truck get down here? What do we do with all our stuff? Where do we rent a car? Should we look at flights? How do we even contact someone? A wild medley of questions raced through our minds.
“Maybe there's someone inside.” JT suggested while walking towards The Park Ranger building. Even though there were no other cars around, we figured it might be worth a try.
Around the building we walked, finding every door shut and every light off. We peaked through windows and even began banging on the doors and walls.
“I hear a TV or something, there has to be someone in there!” JT announced from the opposite side. “Hey, we need help!” he shouted. Some shuffling followed and something began to lumber towards the door.
“You fellas alright?” A Park Ranger exited the building. He seemed to have just woken up.
“Uh, well no… I destroyed the brakes in our car. Have you ever seen anything like this before?” I walked him over to the Subaru where the brakes were still sizzling red.
“Oh yeah, you cooked your rotors, gotta put your car in first gear bud.” The Ranger explained.
“We’re from New Jersey,” JT explained with a tension edusing chuckle.
“So the car is stuck here now?” I asked, still concerned, despite the Rangers relaxed tone.
“Nope, just leave it parked, let it cool off till tomorrow and uhh, use first gear next time, Cool?” He said this in the most carefree manner, JT and I nearly collapsed with relief.
“There is a small problem though.” The Park Ranger stopped to turn around. “Our campsites are all fully booked out tonight. You'll have to walk down the road and see if maybe someone’s willing to let you share. You have a tent right?”
“We have a tent.” JT replied.
Looking for a friendly stranger seemed easy after our adventure had nearly been uprooted. With gear and necessary supplies in hand, our feet kicked over gravel with relief. Faint chatter began to rise as small gatherings of settled travelers appeared here and there. Campfires and guitar strums, seasoned the crisp night air and we were almost certain our fortune had not run out.
It only took talking to one stranger to discover a friend. A lovely old German couple had available tent space. Their jeep, equipped with a rooftop tent, meant they had plenty to share. Not only did they offer their available space, but they invited us to sit with them as well. The lady tinkered with mosquito repelling incense, and the gentleman offered his ear to our story. Gladly we told them everything, and gladly they listened. Stories spilled like secrets. While one was told the next was ready to pounce. Sincere replies, thoughtful questions and helpful advice, fragranced our unexpected evening. At this point, time had been forgotten and we were speaking to each other's shadows.
The gentleman worked for a highly exclusive, nearly secret luxury German cruise ship. The guests ate only with silver and his job was to polish it. He most enjoyed making his way back to the kitchen to feast on the dishes made by the gourmet chefs. The thing that stood out to me the most, I’ll never forget how he described it.
He was aboard on the day the ship ran aground, he said “It was like being inside a metal guitar while its border was being violently etched.”
I could almost hear it myself. I thought, Only someone who was really there could have described it in such a way. Gladly, no one got hurt. In fact he laughed and proudly admitted to eating caviar to his heart's content. Since the ship was aground and it would soon spoil, the few days they were stranded he claimed to have eaten a salary’s worth of caviar.
This is what adventures were all about the discovery. That night, I discovered something which now I often forget to remind myself of: That not only do I love a good story, but more importantly, every single person has a story worthy to inspire. And if anyone thinks otherwise, it might be time to check the brakes.
