Wheeler Geological Area, San Juan Mountains, CO

The path is rocky and rooted in places, smooth and firm in others. The terrain a mixture of rolling ridges, rivers of talus slope, alpine meadows full of cinquefoil, columbine, bluebells, Indian paintbrush.

Pockets of light and dark ebb along the trail like sunlight on rippling water. Blue and Engleman spruce mingle with open tundra. A buffet line of timothy, fescue, wire grass, runs underfoot. Random boulders and deadwood dot the fields and a million tiny butterflies flutter about from low-growth flower to low-growth flower.

It is a world worth drowning in. A love language of its own, authentic and true.

With two days of rest behind us, the horse and I have acclimated to 10,000 feet above sea level and are moving at a pretty good pace - 2.4 miles per hour. Our destination: Wheeler Geological Area. A tiny, 60-acre range of volcanic ash turned hoodoos, hidden in the mighty San Juan Mountains, accessible by either a 7-mile foot trail or a jagged 14-mile high clearance road for those with properly wheeled devices. An elevation gain of approximately 1,000 feet.

But nature has been my friend today and after five and a half miles of having her to myself, I am not looking forward to the eventual synthesis of bridlepath and back-road as we approach the surprisingly trafficked geologic site. We go regardless, pushing through the Wheeler parking area, past jeeps and ATVs, tents flexing in the breeze, and eventually begin to climb again toward Wheeler's ash-ridden formations.

The surrounding land shifts from green forest to dull gray and the dusty spires of this alternative universe rise into sight just beyond the tree line. The horse baulks. A narrow, edgy piece of sandstone trail confronts us ahead, no margin for error allowed. He acts on his own to reverse direction, perhaps remembering another time we miscalculated the solidity of ground beneath our feet - and I let him.

I have learned when to trust and when to let go. I’m still learning. I have given faith where I shouldn’t have, taken it from myself in return. No longer. For love is not entrenchment, nor enmeshment and the one I must trust above all is myself. It is now, as it should have always been.

Besides, today I faced a hummingbird straight on. I rode alone to a moss-covered stone where I perched and watched the horse drink from clear, crisp mountain water. I drowned myself in meadows, vibrant shades of mantis and celadon. There is dirt and sweat on denim, mud on boots, and two lively pups waiting eagerly for my return. That is enough.

For now.

San Juan Mountains, Colorado