In Praise Of Adventure Women

My hiking partner and I were somewhere above 10,000 feet. We had made it to the saddle of the continental divide in Colorado’s Rocky Mountains. The half-way point.

- Jeremy Wadzinskin

About five hours into a nine hour up-and-over hike from Crested Butte to the Maroon Bells on the Aspen side. A trail known for its brilliant Spring flowers and its gentle, almost easy, sloping ascent. And as we sat on the ledge, at the summit of our achievement, rather than feeling relieved, I was terrified. Terrified because I had a secret. Deep within my backpack, next to a tiny bottle of Champagne, was a box containing all of my hopes and dreams. My future lay in that box. And though I’d been down this road before: a two-time loser. This one felt different. This one mattered. My heart was beating so hard in my chest I was worried it’s echoes would ricochet across the Rockies and set off an avalanche. My stomach turned in so many knots, I wasn’t sure if it was altitude sickness or a high-altitude hangover. I was terrified because in that box was an engagement ring, and I was going to propose to an Adventure Woman.