Lightning crept across the mountain tops as the clouds built dark purple towers to the sky. The brush on either side of the trail quivered with increasing veracity. After hiking for four hours we were excited to reach the summit and set up camp. “We need to move faster to get set up before the rain hits. Stay low ground in this hill cluster so if the lightning moves across the lake up here it won’t strike your tent,” My husband to be Andy bellowed to the group 8 friends behind him. He and I had convinced a few of our dearest friends to join us in Colorado to camp out on a mountain for our nuptials.

A fire red wedding dress was stuffed into my backpack along with a few other wedding related items like nail polish and mascara. We knew it was going to rain, but the storm was so electrical that it took us by surprise.

The sunlight was escaping slowly as we played and enjoyed the 10,000 foot climb together. Still an hour from the top we started getting wet, there was no turning back now. Thunder clapped leaving my ears ringing. Twenty legs scrambled and scurried to overcome slippery rocks. Camp setup was a windy battle of man versus angry poles and canvas.

The evening played on and we made the most of the thunderstorm taking turns watching the violent lightning to make sure it didn’t veer our direction. By 3 a.m. it had stayed safely on the ever-so-slightly higher peaks to the west of the lake. As I thankfully fell asleep in my dome with the man I loved, I dreamt of the beauty our morning wedding would be, with a fresh day woken up from the storm.