I peel my leggings off and pull my shirt up over my head. I’m going in. “You don’t expect me to go in too, do you?” Ryan says, perched on a rock, looking amused.
I know he’s going for his phone in his pocket so he can snap photos of me in my birthday suit. The water is a deep aqua blue, like the Caribbean but at 11,888 feet above sea level. Surrounded by the tall rock spires for which it earned its name, Cathedral Lake has always been one of my favorite hikes for the rapid elevation gain that awards you with stunning views from the start.
It’s midweek and quiet, one of those fall days that makes you feel like you’re on drugs, the colors so saturated it doesn’t even look real. The glory of fall has made its debut in the tips of the trees, so everything looks dip-dyed in various shades of green and yellow. The air is crisp but not cold, the sun warm on our faces but not hot, the air lung-piercing but in a good way, the effort that makes it all so rewarding.
I love the way time ceases to exist up here, how, despite our tight glutes and shortness of breath, it’s almost like we are mysteriously transported from the trailhead to the lake in what feels like a waking dream. It's also our anniversary, which is what inspires me to peel off my clothes and go for a swim, clumsily navigating the sharp rocks that riddle the shallows with wobbly steps until I finally make it to the depths where I can full submerge in the clean, cold water. It’s easy to forget your proble.