Blog Post 7, The Pink Tornado

The Appalachian Mountains have an age of over 480 million years, making them 400 million years older than the Rockies. John Denver famously sang "Life is old there, older than the trees," which is accurate. Trees first appeared 350 million years ago, and the earliest land animals are believed to have emerged 440 million years ago. When my wife retired in 2024, the allure of experiencing vast open skies, stunning landscapes, and the vibrant energy of those younger western mountains beckoned us.

The popular travel style of overlanding matched our desire to connect with nature. I customized our four-wheel-drive SUV by installing a sleeping platform above storage drawers. I added molle panels and shelves. I crafted a wind fairing with an integrated light bar, along with a dual gas can holder. I attached storage boxes to the roof racks and designed brackets for recovery boards. I ensured we had dual batteries, a power inverter, a DC charger, an air compressor, a winch, and a refrigerator. We scheduled our departure for mid-August to allow enough travel time to reach our first destination, the Overland Expo in Loveland, Colorado, where we intended to learn from experienced overlanders.

Since the course of life is unpredictable, we had to change our departure date due to Stacy's dental appointments, leading to a revised plan. The Expo dates were fixed, but I could drive there with our Aussie, Jake, and then collect Stacy from the Denver Airport.

On day four, just west of Denver, before sunset, Golden Gate Canyon State Park offered a place to settle for a few days while awaiting Stacy's arrival. No other campers in sight. I backed into our site, Nice. Jake oversaw the setup of the tent and camp chairs. We ate and bedded down for the night.

When you show the Universe that you’re attentive and genuinely grateful for its creative expression, the surreal may appear. And it did. At dawn, the morning after we arrived, Jake and I were just regaining our senses, waking to the coolness and the sounds of a magnificent mountain morning. What was that noise? A distant jet racing toward us, up the mountain? It was moving rapidly. Growing loud quickly. Suddenly, the tent shook violently, almost collapsing on us. Wind blasted fiercely, roaring through the trees. What was that? Then silence. It was over. Jake and I exchanged glances. I grabbed my phone and dashed out of the tent. I took this photo that captures it all.

That was indeed an exceptional and fitting "Welcome to the Rockies!"

Allow me to present a concept that might seem unfamiliar to you. If everything is interconnected, then weather is merely a facet of our perceived reality, perhaps akin to our emotions. A highly emotional individual can impact the emotions of those nearby. Could it be that we all have the ability to influence the weather in our immediate surroundings?

On a lovely summer day in Charlotte, North Carolina, I lay on my back, listening to a little girl about four or five years old, the same age as me at the time. "Can you make the clouds disappear?" she asked. She went on to explain that by focusing and concentrating on one of the smallest clouds, you could make it vanish. I tried it. Simple. And indeed, it worked. I grew up believing this was possible. I never thought about the opposite, making clouds appear, but a pink tornado would definitely be the kind of surprise I'd choose.