Adventures of Tyler Brantley

3 Weeks till the Fellowship Starts….

My morning started way earlier than usual—like 3:30 a.m. early. The kind of early where the world is still wrapped in darkness and your body asks, “Why are we doing this?” I hadn’t slept much the night before, but not from worry—just pure excitement.

By 4:20 a.m., after a cautious drive through the stillness of the morning, I arrived at the gates. It was my first time driving up Pikes Peak. The last time I went, I was around 12 or 13, and my family took the cog rail instead. Looking back, I doubt I had much of a say in the matter. They probably just wanted to avoid hauling three wild kids up a mountain road. Fair enough.

While waiting, I started vlogging the experience, explaining the process to my future viewers. It was still too dark to see the mountain, but anticipation was rising. At exactly 4:30, the gates opened. When it was my turn to go, the attendant gave me a cheerful “Have a nice drive!” I smiled and thought, Thank you, I will—without fully realizing the wild ride I had just signed up for.

The ADHD math in my head figured the drive would be about 45 minutes. I followed the car ahead with laser focus, my eyes locked on like an eagle stalking prey. The beginning of the drive was calm. As we climbed higher, the entrance below faded into darkness. The moonlight shimmered over the trees, casting a surreal midnight blue across the forest. When my high beams bounced off the car in front, I caught glimpses of the land around us—hauntingly beautiful in its stillness.

We reached the brake checkpoint, and I still couldn’t see the full scope of the road I was on. My nerves kicked in when I realized the shoulder next to me wasn’t a shoulder at all—it was a drop. A cliff. And those gentle curves? They turned into sharp switchbacks. There were definitely moments I was hugging the mountain way too tightly, practically on the wrong side of the road just to avoid the edge. Still, I pressed on.

Eventually, the road smoothed out again. I could tell we were close to the summit. By 5:15 a.m., I had made it—and I was COLD. Like “freeze-your-fingers-off” cold. I wasn’t dressed for this. I had on old jeans, worn-out New Balance sneakers (no insoles—lost those ages ago), a t-shirt, a thin collared sweatshirt, and a baseball cap. Everyone else was decked out in snow gear. I looked like a tourist.

I found a spot at the Cog Rail station and set up my tripod. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the sky was starting to shift. Soft reds bled into oranges and then yellows. By 6:00 a.m., the first sliver of sun peeked over the edge of the horizon. The colors intensified—fiery cheeto red, pastel clouds, light dancing across the sky like a divine painting. It was breathtaking. I had doubted whether the sunrise would even happen—cloudy skies and forecasted rain almost kept me from coming. But I’m so glad I trusted the moment and prayer. I told myself, Even if the sunrise doesn’t show, the drive alone will be worth it. And it absolutely was.

At 6:15, I started my descent. But not before grabbing the famous donuts and a few souvenirs from the gift shop. Two minutes into the drive down, I made an intrusive stop—there was no resisting the view. I walked about 20 minutes out to a cliff overseeing two lakes (there’s a record of it in my vlog) and just took it all in. I stopped so many times on the way down to take pictures—around 500 in total. I even ran into mountain goats frolicking along the cliffs. The sun had begun to rise by then, and I could finally grasp the full scale of where I’d driven. It was steep. Like, really steep.

The whole trip down took me 2–3 hours. I couldn’t stop photographing every stunning view. I made it through the brake checkpoint and eventually home around 9:00 a.m.—exhausted, but completely in awe.

This will be one of those moments I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

And this weekend, it’s going to get even better—my friend is flying into town for a visit. My boss, incredibly kind, flew them in because I’d really been missing having someone close by. I can’t thank them enough. I’ve already planned out our weekend, and I can’t wait to write about the Paint Mines in my next post.