July’s Experience: Presence Happened

When you slow down enough to find awareness in the Now

Realize deeply that the present moment is all you have. Make the NOW the primary focus of your life. Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now

Moving from Worry to Fear to Something New

I woke up to fire news. My friend Alicia had told us about an app that gives you the news about fires in your area, which turned out to be a good thing. Alicia lives in Leadville and ended up being evacuated, but thankfully, she has returned home and is safe. I have lived in Colorado for many years, and fire is something that does happen. It is nature, but it is also exacerbated by things humans do. Regardless, Paul and I had a short conversation about how Nature wins, usually. We were specifically talking about the ocean and massive waves, and also about fire.

We just moved, as you may know. That meant a lot of busy-ness, and all of the things that go with moving to a new community. Paul has a job, and I am still looking for one. At least until I can build my own employment. All of this has consumed everything I think about. Until today. We woke up and decided to explore areas nearby, as we live in one of the most stunning places in the world. We are grateful for our home and for this incredibly beautiful spot. Not far away is the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. We decided to do a little recon and maybe a short hike. 

Upon walking Gibby around the block, it became clear how close the fires are to us. Smoke was everywhere. For a moment, I wondered if going into the forest and hiking was a great idea, but like the rain in Seattle, during fire season, be careful, and you can still go hiking. But as with nature anywhere, know what is going on locally and where. Stay aware. 

I am glad we stuck to our plan because what was waiting for us turned out to be absolutely incredible. If you find yourself in the Montrose/Delta/Grand Junction/Ridgway area, do yourself a favor and go visit this stunning National Park. This is the American West at its finest. I was reminded of a time when I lived in Whitefish, MT, and we had visitors. Glacier National Park was on fire, and yet still open. Life goes on.

If you live in wildfire country or travel through it often, the Watch Duty app is worth having.

Smoky backyard and neighborhood. Montrose, CO, July 2, 2026. Photo by Wendy Stieg

If you're interested in how our move to Montrose became the beginning of a much larger adventure, you might also enjoy We Could Be Lewis and Clark, If Lewis and Clark Were Obsessed with Bikes, Giant Cacti, and the Neighbors.

This Place is Massive

I felt small, but in a good way. Sometimes knowing that the entire Earth, and for that matter, the Universe, will keep on going, spinning, moving, with or without me, is strangely comforting. I began to slide into a space I had not been in a long time. I used to be so much better at journaling, just present thoughts, staying in a space of gratitude while allowing whatever it was to be, without trying to fix or change anything. But then I got caught up in all things “Oh-My-God-I-Can’t-Find-A-Job,” which happened a lot over the past two years. Then it shifted to “Now-I-Have-A-Job-But-Paul-Does-Not.” Thus began the spiraling, spinning, and worrying. When I say it was all-consuming, I really mean it. We are fixing it and figuring it out. Much less thinking was happening within me as I stared down into the canyon floor below. It took my breath away and created that uncomfortable wobbly-in-the-knees feeling, and my first thought was, “Day-um! This place is MASSIVE!”

We had pulled over and walked over to the edge of part of the South Rim of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. A small child was shouting at her parents, in an Eastern European language of some sort, and her mother and father stood by the edge, patiently waiting for her to join them. They laughed, as did we. “Did you understand her?” her mother asked. “Every single word, in a way!” I said. “Where are you from?” I asked. “Ukraine, and now Texas. We are on a vacation.” I smiled and said how welcome they are here, and how wonderful to spend the day this way. It was a very pleasant exchange, making me realize that “Are we THERE yet?” is the same in any language. That and probably, “I’m HUNGRY!” Might have been in there. My weak-in-the-knees moment passed, and I was filled with a sense of gratitude for that moment. Something was starting to change. 

Today we introduced ourselves to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. Photo by Wendy Stieg

The South Rim

The Black Canyon of the Gunnison is massive. It is located in Montrose County, CO, and spans roughly 30,000 acres. The Gunnison River took its time carving this spectacular canyon, forming it over millions of years. It is famous for its staggering vertical drops, reaching depths of over 2,722 feet while spanning as little as 40 feet wide at the bottom of the valley floor. The Black Canyon is located east of Montrose, about 15 miles along US Highway 50 and Colorado 347. A small back-and-forth had ensued between Paul and me. He wanted to explore the North Rim as we introduced ourselves to the Black Canyon. I disagreed.  He does, after all, have a broken wrist, and hiking well into the backcountry is perhaps better saved for another day. I gently reminded him that a little recon might not be a bad plan, and fortunately, he agreed. 

As we pulled up to the gate, we met a friendly park ranger who was manning that gate. She was very kind and gave us some good information about the park. She also told us someone gave her a cheesecake. I love those moments when you believe in people again. This started the day moving in a very positive direction for us, further giving us space for joy again. It certainly has been a long haul over the past two years, capped off by Paul’s wrist injury. We felt more hopeful than we had in a while.

On the positive side, Paul can still hike! Photo by Wendy Stieg

Learning to slow down and appreciate the life I'm building has been a recurring theme. I explored that idea further in I Don't Want to Escape My Life. I Want to Build a Better One.

Just a couple of tourists. July 2, 2026. Photo by Wendy Stieg

The Hike and the Visitor Center

There is something really special about American National Parks. The Park Service has a long history of providing great information, positivity, and a true love of the outdoors. To date, I have visited 13 National Parks. Like baseball stadiums, Paul and I have a new goal: to visit as many as possible. Each National Park is incredible and unique. Black Canyon of the Gunnison makes me realize how incredible Colorado is. We had driven into the park from Montrose. While the South Rim entrance sits on the south side of the park, you actually enter from the West. We drove in and stopped at a few spots, gathering photos as well as recon. Then we stopped at the visitor center, another incredible spot to view this canyon from.

We spotted a 2-mile hike, one you didn’t need to get a permit for, so we went for this short hike. At this point, I started to notice things. Wildflowers. Scrub Oaks. Fire damage from last year’s fire. Smoke in the air from this year's fires. I was astounded by what I was seeing. Families hiking with their dogs. People from all over the world. Here. To see what we came to see.

But other things started to come into my awareness as well. Sounds. Somewhere below on the valley floor, there had to be a river because you could hear a massive waterfall. I did not see it, but I could hear it. I could also hear birds, some of which I could not identify. And crows, which I could identify. I took my long-sleeved shirt off because I started to get very warm. I had a dark shirt on, and my back was getting hot from the sun. I could still smell fire. My senses were coming alive in a way I had forgotten. I realized that I truly am happiest on a trail. Any trail. I love skiing, hiking, and seeing lakes, rivers, and forests. Spending time in nature is so vitally important; I don’t know how three months have passed since I took a hike like this. 

This trail had a habit of tipping toward the valley floor. That weird feeling in my knees came back, and I found myself scooting back away from the edge as I took photos during my hike. I found one spot where I got a little vertigo. The last time I felt it was while we were visiting a castle in Portugal. I have even gotten it on a chairlift. I am not actually afraid, but my body is. It is a strange feeling and one you have no control over. 

The hike was short but perfect; Paul’s hand was starting to hurt a bit, just as we returned to the visitor center. I am not typically a visitor center kind of person. But I am glad I went and spent at least a few minutes trying to get my bearings. I found a model of the canyon itself, giving me another “Holy crap, this place is MASSIVE!” moment.  I loved the geology section, and I got to spend some time geeking out over sedimentary, igneous, and metamorphic rocks found in this valley. Then we spent time talking to another park ranger. Paul wanted to know where to fish and about the North Rim. I am glad we spent today at the South Rim; the views are most accessible from there. But after that conversation, it became clear that we need to come back and spend a lot more time here.

It is very hard to capture how large this canyon actually is. This is a model, located in the visitor center and gives a much better idea of how massive this place is. Photo by Wendy Stieg

Last year’s fire evidence and smoke from the fires right now. Photo by Wendy Stieg

Remaining aware without letting fear take over has become an important part of how I travel and live. I wrote more about that perspective in Safety Third!

Spending time outdoors with Paul has become one of my favorite ways to reconnect with what matters. You can read about another memorable adventure in A Beautiful Evening Accompanied by an Annoyed Paul.

Last year’s fire means life comes back. Scrub Oaks are returning. Photo by Wendy Stieg

The Day Started to Wind Down

We left the visitor center and got in the car. We pulled over at one stop and saw another family. I think this stop was Pulpit Rock or something like that. Another foreign family, probably from India, although I am not sure, had a moment where the older of the two children was the photographer for his parents, and the younger one was complaining. The father alternately scolded the smaller child and smiled for the camera, another the-same-in-any-family-moment. We saw the father a few stops later, and he was on his own. “Where are the kids?” I asked. “They are done seeing rocks!” he announced wistfully. It brought back memories of my father trying to get us to look out the window of the family station wagon as we were traveling somewhere. I’m pretty sure we were probably just as annoying to him. 

We found another spot where you could see a waterfall and more geology. It became clear that we, too, needed to get going, and that we also needed a lot more time with these rocks. I felt more hopeful, peaceful, and happy than I had in a long time. Nature is powerful. But it is powerful in other ways too. Spending time in complete awe does something to your soul, and you really can’t get that anywhere else. One thing is for sure: we will be back. I am also left with a strong sense of gratitude, and get chills just thinking about the beauty and the power of this place. And I live 20 minutes away!

These views never get old. Well, they are old, but we don’t get tired of them! Photo by Wendy Stieg