Arriving to the trailhead at 11:30pm, we traveled by moonlight without the help of our headlamps. The meadow we walked through was awash in the soft glow of the moon. We walked a few miles that night until we rolled out our sleeping bags near a stream with a collection of small waterfalls we would wake up and ford the next morning.

Awaken by the first crack of light, we ate breakfast and made our way into the Big Indian Creek Canyon. After fording the creek, we caught a glimpse of the long canyon ahead. The trail made a big right turn and we found ourselves in the midst of an incredible landscape, carved by thousands of years of erosion. The canyon walls surrounding us reached high into the sky, leading miles ahead. Narrow runs of water look like strings of silver hanging down from the deep crevasses cut into the walls up high. The path we walked led through dense thickets of resilient sage brush that scatch and bite at your legs and leaves your legs stinging all through the night. Occasional meadows offered a chance to lift your chin up and enjoy the scenary without worry of walking into a thick patch of brush. From the meadows, however, sprung thousands of crickets that would shoot from the path as you made your way through as if you were a king walking towards the throne. Perhaps the most unique part of the canyon are the young groves of Quaking Aspens that spot the canyon floor. From the distance, these groves have a neon green appearance under the sunlight and it's not until you travel a couple hours that you truly get to experience the beauty of these groves by walking through them. The groves provide a much needed escape from the high desert sun overhead and almost immediately upon entering you can feel and taste the cool crisp air held within the groves. The bark of these aspens is fascinating. The majority is a bright white, paper like bark that peels away to expose the black interior. The bark pools around the tree branches creating thick ripples in the outine of an eye. Where branches are broken off near the trunk of the tree a scar forms that appears as a pupil and cornea, giving the trees eyes and a somewhat spooky feeling like you're being watched while walking through the groves. All afternoon the canyon walls surrounding us were a deep gray, with the patches of neon from the groves. As the sun dropped, however, the burning orange off the horizon washed through, dousing the canyon with a burnt red and orange hue. When the Sun left, the moon slowly lifted from behind the canyon wall. With the moonlight now in our presence, we went on a short hike to the nearest aspen grove and looked on with awe as the moon's mystic illumination highlighted the white trunks of the groves. It was a surreal experience to see how the sun and moon each gave precedence to different characteristics of the land. At that moment, Port, Brando and I truly realized the beauty all hours of the day have to offer us.