Soaked from morning showers and covered in dirt after trail riding horses through Crested Butte’s aspen groves, we made our way further into the mountains. With Jason’s ability to bomb through every flooded spot along the gravel roads, visibility out the passenger window was minimal by the time we finally reached Emerald Lake. Unanticipated Mountain bikers and fellow adventures passing by made it nearly impossible to pull a discrete roadside number one, yet somehow, as usual, I managed. Bladder empty back pack in hand, I took off after Jason down the path leading to the lake. Wildflowers up to my knees, I stood along the edge of the lake just as the clouds parted enough for sunshine to pour through illuminating the emerald water before me. Glancing to my left, shadows danced across the vibrant green mountain side. To my right, still higher peaks of rigid rock edges carpeted with smooth green plant life. Surrounded by God’s craftsmanship on all sides, we embraced this piece of heaven a moment longer.
