About three weeks ago, on my way to the Ojai Valley School for the beginning of the school year, I was dragged out of bed at six in the morning and loaded into my dad’s truck along with my luggage and two little brothers.

We were on our way to the airport in Denver, Colorado, and set off from my hometown Aspen so early in the morning because of the four hour drive ahead of us. Although the drive might sound long, it is not as tedious as one would expect.

My dad starts the truck with just a little bit of trouble, enough to make me look over at him and raise my eyebrows in a sleepy haze. He’ll blame it on the cold of the morning, but I think he was just as tired as the rest of us. He did manage to successfully back out of the driveway (without hitting any mailboxes or trash cans), and we were en route. Knowing these were my final hours with my family before not seeing them for three months, I settled in for the drive up Independence Pass.

As we start the long climb up, I sit up a bit in the passenger seat and look around at my surroundings. I have made this journey countless times, but the beauty of it never ceases to amaze me.

There is this one stretch, no more than two minutes long when traveling at 60 mph, that makes me feel as if I’m in an entirely different world every single time. Looking through the closed car window I can picture myself walking through the Aspen trees, looking at all the different markings on their trunks.

In my mind, as I walk through the trees, it is always the beginning of Fall. The cold air catches my breath, and I wrap my jacket tighter around me. I can smell the grass covered in dew, along with whatever else may have visited the grove throughout the night. It is peaceful. A place where I am not lonely, merely alone.

And then, just like that, it’s gone. We’ve arrived at the terrifying, one laned, blind turn which makes me grab the roll handle above the door and hold on tight as we pass. The guardrail does nothing to disguise the drop of what seems to be thousands of feet.

Once we have made it passed the turn we are passing different trailheads, camping sites, and other landmarks that once upon a time used to have me sitting in the back of the car with my nose pressed against the window. But after having stopped at almost every single one of them, my curiosity seems to have fled.

Then, all too suddenly, we are at the top. The Continental Divide, situated at 12,095 feet. At this point my ears feel as if they are about to explode. And then we make that final turn, and it becomes apparent that we are headed down into Denver. To the pressure of making a flight, saying good-bye to family, and the beginning of a school year. The beauty of Independence has passed.