Travels – Page 8 – State of Wilderness

The Supermoon of Moab

Yes, I am still telling stories of our summer vacation. This is a place for us to hold on to them so they won’t disappear from our memory.

When we were in the planning stages of our vacation, Jason didn’t even want to go back to Moab, and especially not Arches National Park. It was great when we went in 2010, but he was a little over it. I had this sense, though, that this was a place that my oldest son would really feel called towards, and I wanted to give him a chance to see it. In the end, I was right. Among the many places in our travels, the most inspiring to my oldest son was this visit to Arches.
He felt a connection to the rock formations, and wanted to be a part of it. We explored the Windows section near sunset, and he had a chance to connect with the Park intimately through its accessibility. He decided that someday he wanted to return to some of the National Park places to have a deeper encounter with rocks, canyons and mountains. Since then, we’ve been hitting the rock gyms and looking for weekend opportunities for him to go test these skills in the hill country with a group. This is important to us, as he is tiptoeing into his teenage years and we want him to have healthy connections with nature.
As we walked down towards the parking lot, we felt a collective gasp among the other park visitors, and turned to look at what they were seeing. The “Supermoon” was peeking through the North Window, surrounded by a cloud halo, and it was so beautiful we all stopped and stared for a while. None of our cameras could capture that incredible display of light and beauty, but we did get this one shot above of the moon over a different formation.
The memory of this view lingered for days after along our visits of other National Park areas. “Remember that legendary moon we saw?” my younger son would ask, and we would all murmur in agreement. These treasured moments in Arches; the inspiration for future goals in which to better explore the wilderness awoken in my older son, and the way the world lit up for a moment in a dazzling display of earth and sky, will forever be a beacon for us to draw us into exploring more of what this country’s National Park areas have to offer.

Lost Bearings in Buena Vista, Colorado: Cottonwood Hot Springs

We had a plan for the night when we left the Wolf Center, but just like many good plans do, this one came unraveled fast. It was all the fault of that nasty cold virus the little one shared.

We were having a great time cruising down Highway 24 west from Lake George, enjoying the scenery. It got late, though. Suddenly, the thought of setting up camp was too much for Jason, who was the most sick and usually has the most work to do setting up camp.

We decided to find a hotel instead. Only, there was a monkeywrench thrown into this whole mix. First of all, we had no reception, so there was no way to map hotels or call around to get a room. Secondly, there was a whole issue of a travel book for Colorado that would have helped out, but we weren’t sure where it was – packed away in the back, or left behind. Thirdly, there was a whole other set of fate working against us, a reality in which every hotel in the entire town (of which there were several), AND in the closest town 50 miles away, were all booked up for the night.

I was having trouble grasping this because the feel of the town had completely changed since last time I had been there, sixteen years ago. I remembered a Subway in the middle of the prairie, mountains in the distance, a drive in theater, and a few inns. Now Buena Vista seemed to be full of hip new places and hot festivals, restaurants, houses, and hotels; every one of which had a “no vacancy” sign in the window.

So we sat at K’s Burger right off the main street, borrowed their phone book, and made frantic phone calls in the dark while scarfing down our dinner. What it came down to, this late, was that we found one room available in town…and it happened to be like a rent-a-room in the house of the out-of-town owner of Cottonwood Hot Springs. We shared the house with two or three other couples and paid way too much for this luxury. However, the bed was very comfortable, and we were able to get passes to enjoy the Hot Springs the next morning, which turned out to be a highlight of our entire trip.

Perhaps it was meant to be. I DID want to bring my children to this Springs. I had been there when I came here so long ago, and had fond memories of the place. The place seems to be run by a bunch of hippies, but the atmosphere is one of total relaxation.

Here is a poem I wrote representing the five public pools in the Hot Springs area, all of which were connected by a stone walkway.

Cottonwood

Slow, cool, calming Cold Pool

Invigorating, rising the spirit

Clean, esoteric female fertility statue

Pouring life force into our souls

Move over to Watsu

Deep. pure moderation

Float up to meditate

Let go, feel troubles float away

Walk into Belly Pool

Multi-colored stone floor

Slightly dank, sulfur smell

Visceral reflection of reality

Slide into Elbow Pool

Warm, inviting social pool

Sit on stone benches, smile

Smell the mint and awaken

Relax in warmth of Head Pool

Hot mist rising around faces

Feel tension slip further away

Loosen stiff muscles, limber up

Rinse, repeat as necessary

What Does the Wolf Say?

What does the wolf say, when he points his muzzle at the sky?

Is it a call of camaraderie, or a long goodbye?

When those last notes trail off, does he look around for friends?

Or does he know that the bond of the pack never ends?

I wonder if he is thinking of those who passed on,

And that is what adds the forlorn sound to the song

Or is it a solemn celebration, a call for an ally

A communal effort to make the pack rally

Whatever it is, you can’t deny that effect

Heart beats faster, rising of hair on the neck

A feeling like you are part of the whole

Carrying friends with you in the depths of your soul

The feeling is overwhelming; to be honest it made me cry

Hearing the sad, sweet songs of the wolves saying goodbye

Colorado Wolf and Wildlife Center, Divide CO, July 11 2014

Pikes Peak: With a Little Help From My Friends

When I was young, fresh out of college, my father and I attempted to drive up Pikes Peak Highway to the summit of this landmark mountain. We didn’t make it all the way. Both of us flat-landers were terrified of the mountain road, which seemed too steep and dangerous, with no guardrails to offer protection. It seemed like we could just fall off the mountain in my long bed Ford F150. We ended up trembling with fear and turning around to head back to safety.

Neither one of us had much experience with mountains then. Over that following summer, I gained some familiarity with the mountains while working at a summer camp in Pike National Forest. Much of that experience was on horseback, but there was some hiking and exploring that went along with that. I lived and worked with two other girls who taught horsemanship alongside me. At the end of the summer, after camp season had ended, these girls came over one night and spent the night with me sleeping on the floor of my new apartment. In the wee hours of the morning, we headed out on to the Barr Trail that took us twelve miles up to the top of Pikes Peak, to the summit that my dad and I could not make it to by vehicle.

This summer, sixteen years later, I was back and I wanted to show my family this mountain that meant so much to me. There is no way we were going to hike it, and taking the Cog train was so much more expensive than driving it. It was time to conquer that mountain, see if I would still be scared of the drive up. This time, we had a much more competent driver (Jason). He and I had been on several road trips involving mountain roads in the years we have been together, not to mention the experiences I had living in Oregon and California, and so our comfort level is much different than mine was that first summer out of Texas.
Also, I had a friend from high school who joined us in our ride in the Subaru up this mountain, “America’s mountain”, and I specifically decided to sit in the middle seat in the back, next to her, so that I wouldn’t focus on the steep drop offs. She and I talked most of the way up and down, and in this way, she was helping me feel better about the drive. There wasn’t even a question this time about making it to the summit, and honestly it did not even seem scary this time.

Both times I have made it to the top, my friends helped me get there.

This is my friend Autumn and I at the summit: