Six years ago, I called my best friend Courtney and asked her to drive across the country with me. Courtney took eight days off work, enough time to get to Utah from Virginia. We loaded up my Subaru with hula hoops, a tent, sleeping bags, costumes, a cooler, and whatever backpacks and suitcases could fit.

After a waterfall hike in Illinois, we crossed into Kansas and drove through the night. Desperate to get to Colorado by sunrise, we fell short by a few miles and found a lake to camp next to.

Four hours of sleep later, we were back on the road. I volunteered to drive so Courtney could fully take in her first sight of The Rockies from the plains. When we crossed the border into Colorful Colorado, we stopped at the sign to have a dance party. 

I put my hands on the ground and feet up on the stone pillars to practice my upside down twerking on the sign. An eighteen wheeler truck drove by and honked, so Courtney flashed them and I fell onto the asphalt laughing.

We were quickly disappointed to discover that Eastern Colorado looks exactly like Kansas, and would not be seeing the Rockies for another couple of hours.

A dirt road took us toward Colorado Springs with the magnificent Rockies sprawled out above the industrious town. Standing tall a few thousand feet above us, the tip of the mountains were still covered in snow.

“Let me out!” Courtney said when the Rockies came into view. I pulled over and made us a sandwich while Courtney ran two miles down the road and back. Running was how she expressed excitement.

That night we camped in Pike National Forest. The air was crisp, clean, and getting colder. We layered fleece undershirts with our puffy jackets and hats before setting up the tent with the door facing Pike’s Peak. The ghost of a tree stood next to our tent, with only the exposed roots and base of the trunk left. Small patches of snow littered the mountain underneath the pines.

We sat on a boulder and watched the sunset.

“What got you into the outdoors, like professionally?” Courtney asked. The road trip would end in Utah for Courtney where she would fly home, but my trip would take me to California where I worked as a backpacking guide.

I told her about my first trip as an outdoor educator in college. Before getting paid, I started off as a volunteer for a non-profit that took youth outdoors near Boone, North Carolina. My first trip was a mountain biking trip on the Virginia Creeper Trail, but I had no idea how to mountain bike. 

I was the put on sunscreen and have fun guide. 

Luckily the trail was mostly smooth and downhill. Beginner friendly.

I remembered breaking for lunch on the South Fork of the Holston River. We all spread out on different boulders. Some sat with their feet in the water, others laid in the grass on the shore. I packed myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with goldfish, a green apple, and trail mix. 

I remember looking around and being filled with this awe and wondrous love for the world, a feeling that was foreign to me since my dad died of cancer. 

“I remember staring at the river and making a proclamation in my head: I promise to eat more meals outside. That was a huge turning point in life,” I explained.

“Wow, that’s awesome!” Courtney said. “You just told the river that?”

“Yep,” I laughed. “It held me accountable I suppose.”

For a moment, our minds left with the wind and carried us to the sharp peaks going in and out of pink clouds.

“I kind of want to do that right now,” Courtney said.

“Do what?”

“Make a proclamation to the mountain,” she said, gesturing to Pike’s Peak, a mountain over 14,000 feet.

“Let’s do it,” I nodded.

“I…don’t know if I know what I want to say yet,” Courtney said with her hand holding her chin.

My grin spread like a wildfire across my face, burning hot with excitement. I stood up and jumped on top of the boulder I was sitting on.

Raising my arms high above my head, I shouted, “Hello, Great Pike’s Peak! Can you hear me? It is I! Your friend Beth!”

Courtney’s head whipped back and forth between me and the mountain.

My voice quieted.

“We thank you, oh beautiful Pikes Peak for your mighty presence! Under your watch, we feel safe.”

“Mmhmm!” Courtney echoed. 

“And now, oh mighty Pike, I promise you that I, Beth, will devote the next five years of my life to learning rock climbing and white water kayaking! This is the direction I will go, with your blessing and guidance. Thank you, oh wise one, for listening,” I said, bowing my head then jumping back to the ground.

“Woah,” Courtney said, looking at me.

I turned toward her and smiled. “Your turn.”

“Alright, I’m ready,” she said, bouncing up and down on the rock. She dropped her water bottle to the ground and stood on the boulder next to me.

“Hello Great Mountain! It’s Courtney! Just as you stand tall and proud in any weather, so will I. Pikes Peak, I promise to spend more of my life outside!”

“Hell yeah, sista,” I said. We hugged and could feel each other shivering.

“I’m freezing my titties off,” Courtney said, picking up her water bottle and heading toward the tent. We got in our sleeping bags but didn’t zip up the tent so we could look at the Milky Way above Pike’s Peak until we fell asleep.

“How’d you sleep?” I asked Courtney in the morning.

“I didn’t sleep at all,” she groaned.

“Why not?”

“Bears,” she said, as if it were obvious.

---

Later that year I learned how to rock climb on slab in North Carolina, then learned how to build anchors and set up routes on granite peaks in the high Sierras of California.

Rock climbing took over my life. I became so obsessed I moved to Mexico and learned how to lead multi-pitch routes on limestone in Potrero Chico.

That same year Courtney quit her job in Richmond, Virginia and moved to the mountains for a summer camp job. This changed everything. She learned how to paddle rivers.

She spent more nights under the stars and became less afraid of bears. Her love for whitewater quickly took over her life, which led her to Colorado to work as a raft guide on the Arkansas River and eventually after a few years- a guide on the Grand Canyon.

Her proclamation to Pike’s Peak to spend more of her life outside was very successful.

She has now completed multiple seasons of rafting the Grand Canyon, where she works in the backcountry for 15 days at a time (and chose an environment where she doesn’t have to deal with bears). She’s accumulated well over a 200 days in the backcountry, a total canyon Goddess.

In January of 2022, Country took me down the Colorado River for my first time. This time, she led me into unchartered territory. She taught me how to row a 2,000 lb. boat full of gear through white water. I cried. I was scared. I did not carry out my proclamation to the mountain to learn whitewater kayaking like I thought I would. Turns out rapids freak me out.

Courtney helped me through my fear of moving water. She shouted “Right” and “Left” and “Pull” and “Push” as she guided me through rapids. Then I started crying with joy. I couldn’t believe I was capable of pushing such a big boat through terrifying water. I could hardly believe we were the same gals who drove across the country in 2019 without a clue how to do any of this.

I didn’t know it, but at the time this trip in the Grand Canyon set things in motion for me. It was my first time ever seeing Lee’s Ferry, the famous red rock put in with a blue river running through it. I remember thinking it was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen.

I remember feeling like it was impossible for me to switch careers. I was still a backpacking guide, three years later. I stopped rock climbing due to repetitive injuries. There’s something very simple about walking in the woods or through a canyon, I just couldn’t give it up.

I still hadn’t made my way to the second half of my proclamation, but maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe life was good enough being a backpacking guide, I thought.

In 2023, I moved to a little desert town a few miles upriver from Lee’s Ferry.

And in 2025, I got a job as a kayak instructor on Lake Powell.

It’s not whitewater, but sometimes our dreams can’t even fathom all the possibilities. At the time of the proclamation, I had never seen Lake Powell. I didn’t even know to dream of this life I have now.

So go ahead, make those promises to the rivers, mountains, and rocks whose grandeur inspire you to live a bigger life. It worked for us.

---