Lake Isabelle

Deep in the Indian Peaks Wilderness Area is a lake called Lake Isabelle. The lake sits up at nearly eleven thousand feet and this is where I planned to hike to. It was yet another beautiful summer day without a cloud in the sky. 

The trail started out fairly smooth and took me through a cool shaded fir forest along the shores of Long’s Lake. As my companion guided me along the trail, I took note of my surroundings as much as my senses would allow me. There was a gentle breeze blowing through the tall trees, ground squirrels scampered about, my companion noted a moose sipping water from the lake not far from us, and a woodpecker was drumming a tree somewhere nearby. After a couple of miles we came to a series of rocky and uneven switchbacks that lasted for nearly a half mile. It was the kind of terrain that gave you a physical sense of satisfaction as you navigate it.

Upon reaching the top we navigated a narrow trail closely bordered by small shrubs and trees that brushed my skin as I passed. What we found at the end of the trail was not a pristine mountain lake but instead a giant half empty mud hole that swarmed with mosquitos. I was told the Indian Peaks themselves were in view but it was hard for us to enjoy with the swarm of biting insects around us. Early forest fires had caused the Forest Service to send its water bucket helicopters to collect water from the lake which dramatically lowered its levels far earlier in the season than usual. We quickly ate the lunches we had packed and hurried away from the lakeshore to begin our descent. 

Once we returned to the forest we were back at our leisure pace and again enjoying our surroundings without bother or care. Back on my porch and relaxing in the afternoon quiet I reflected on the day’s hike. While the destination had been disappointing and even uncomfortable, the journey there had been a very pleasant and enriching experience. 

How often in life do we become so focused on our destination that we forget to enjoy the time spent getting there? How many times do we strive to achieve a goal only to be disappointed by the outcome? Oftentimes, the conclusion is not what we sought or expected but we must take joy in the time spent getting there.  

A high school football team loses the state championship game but forge lifelong friendships in the process. A writer’s book is rejected by a publisher but the writing took its author to a place she had never been before. A man’s life is cut short by the scourge of cancer but he lived a long rich life along the way.  Accept the fact that the destination may not be what you imagine, but do not let it stop you from making the journey. 

The old adage tells us that getting there is half the fun. Do you ever question why getting there cannot be all the fun? While there are many times we arrive at a mental or physical place we want to be after a long travel, it is only a fool who assumes that the ending will always be the perfect one. The wiser person realizes that the end is an unknown and treasures each footstep along the trail instead. 

I smiled to myself as the evening came upon my mountains for I now understood that the day’s hike had not been a disappointment after all, it was instead another glorious day in which the high country had taught me yet another valuable lesson.

Grand Lake

I once traveled across the Continental Divide to Grand Lake. It is a large lake with a small town situated around it. Some friends and I decided to cool ourselves in the cold mountain fed lake to relieve ourselves from the warm weather. As I submerged my feet in the cool clear water I opened my senses and took in the mountain summer day. 

The sun warmed my back, and a light rainfall earlier in the day brought a fresh scent with it. Some children were splashing around and their laughter carried across the lake. I thought of the water that was cooling my body and reflected on where this water was going. 

Grand Lake is the headwater of the mighty Colorado River and eventually makes its way to the deep blue of the Pacific. It seems such a long journey from my mountains to the wide bosom of the ocean. Though there is no way of knowing what this liquid, that brings forth life, will encounter its beginning and ending is already set. 

The life of a man or woman is similar in that respect. We are born and, someday, we will pass into the afterlife. We journey on this land in the river of time for what seems such along time but in the grand scheme of things is not as long as we think. The water can encounter so many obstacles along the way. Sometimes it drifts along a side stream, sometimes it will be slowed by a beaver dam, it may be absorbed by a farmer’s field to nourish crops for a small time, or it may travel straight and true down the river to its final destination. But no matter what path the water flows, it will always end in the same place. So it is with life. 

We are born on the lake and someday we will enter the mystery of the deep sea but it’s what we encounter on the river that will shape the world around us. We may get sidetracked or slowed down by we flow on nevertheless. We nourish those around us as the water nourishes the plants and animals. We leave our mark on this planet as the water marks the riverbanks. We carry hard learned lessons and memories, both good and bad, just as the water carries sediments as it flows on. The largest difference between the water and us is that we have some measure of control of how we flow. When we are slowed by the beaver dams that fate or our fellow man will sometimes place in front of us, we must endeavor to flow on. When we pass a person who is in need of help we must make the personal decision to absorb ourselves into the field and nourish the plant. When others try to lure us down a side stream we must remain true to ourselves and stay the course of the river. 

With so much going on around us it is so simple to forget that we all have a purpose in life. Every drop in a river has a job and a great sense of satisfaction comes only if that purpose is served. That job is complete before we reach the end of our journey. Were we to flow through the river without discovering the meaning of our existence then we enter the sea as a wasted drop of freshwater. The single drop does not know when or where its life purpose will be discovered. It could be soon after leaving the lakeshore or it may not occur until it nears the ocean but the purpose is there somewhere along the river. Perhaps the drop has many purposes and stops along its journey and perhaps it has only one. 

Whether we have many life tasks or merely one, they are all equally important. A single drop helps feed a mighty oak, the oak drops many acorns spawning a whole new generation of oaks. The drop supports the trout population giving the black bear sustenance. No life task is too small or insignificant. As you flow down your river of life open your heart and mind so that you may discover your mission and leave your mark on the great map.

Yellow Mountain Trollie

I once took a four mile hike through the alpine tundra with a guide and a handful of tourists. It was a beautiful day and I could easily imagine how spectacular the view was to my sighted companions. The Continental Divide was in all its splendor and we were all in fine spirits.
One of our guides had a keen interest in wildflowers native to my mountains. At one point she stopped us on the trail to point out a Yellow Mountain Trollie. I asked if she might help me locate one of these delicate beauties so that I might feel it. As I ran a finger over the soft yellow petals I was struck how something so small and fragile could survive in such a harsh environment where snow could be found even in July.

 The mighty Lodgepole Pine could not sustain itself up this high. How does this seemingly weaker plant species live and, indeed, flourish so far up? Is not the tree the stronger species? What is the true measure of strength? Is it brute power? Is it the ability to adapt to one’s surroundings? The delicate alpine flora grows where the mighty tree cannot reach. The little marmot roams where the black bear will not. What can mankind learn from this lesson of the wild? An old woman walks to her church every Sunday morning through what many consider a dangerous neighborhood while the troublemaker takes safety in numbers with a gang. A modern day politician in good health plods away day after day counting money and votes while Theodore Roosevelt who was sickly and nearsighted spent his every free moment enjoying and preserving the wild places he roamed. Somewhere deep in an office building, tucked away in a cubicle, a man with perfect vision stares at a computer while a blind man wanders the mountains.
The natural world tells us that strength is not found in the muscle, but rather in the soul. The gentle flower that follows its heart will outpace the lumbering pine. The small marmot that reaches for the stars will finish the great race far ahead of the bear. The kind of strength that matters most in life is not found in the arms, legs, or hands. It is found within the spirit we are all born with. We need only search within ourselves to unlock our true potential. I stood up from where I had crouched to examine this natural marvel. A powerful feeling washed over me and in that moment I felt as though I could nearly move the entire Never Summer Range that stood in front of me. In the flower I had found new strength. What seemingly small wonder will unlock your power?

Emerald Mountain

I recently enjoyed a sunset on the side of Emerald Mountain with a newlywed couple that had come to visit me in my home in the Colorado Rockies. With my limited amount of light perception I was able to enjoy the intense sapphire blue sky I only seem to find up in the high country. While enjoying the panoramic view that included such places as Thunder Ridge, Eagle Cliff, and other distant peaks my friends noticed that there were nearly a dozen hummingbirds flying in a frenzy above us. It was such a peaceful setting that one could only wonder why a hummingbird wouldn’t perch itself in a nearby Ponderosa Pine and enjoy God’s splendor along with us. While nature certainly has different perogatives than their human counterparts I couldn’t help but compare the birds’ frenzy to the average tourist that wanders up to my home during the summer season. Flitting around from spot to spot, snapping a quick photo here and there, and buying a few souvieners before returning to their nests back home.Do these busy little birds truly get a sense of peace and serenity from the mountains as I do? Do they smell the wet foliage in the morning dew? Do they gently run a fingertip over the delicate flower that grows far above the treeline? Do they hear the owl call from its perch deep in the montane forest? Though I am blind I never ceased to be amazed by the glorious majesty of the Rocky Mountains and other natural gems. Not too deeply hidden in these snow covered peaks, winding streams and rivers, and cool dark forests is a whole treasure-trove of life lessons. Were mankind not meant to love and enjoy the world around us then we would all be blind, deaf, and otherwise numb to our surroundings. As the young mule deer enjoys a cool sip of water from the stream, so we enjoy a hot cup of coffee while watching a beautiful sunrise over the eastern horizon. As the beaver puts the finishing touch on a dam that will shape the surrounding land, so we take satisfaction in a hard day’s work. As the black bear snuggles in its cave for a long winter slumber, so we snuggle up to a loved one in front of a crackling hardwood fire in a cabin far from the turmoil of civilization. A forest fire rages, wiping out a forest and yet from the ashes new life spawns. From the ashes of our past mistakes, new opportunities arise. Though I am blind my eyes are wide open to the beauty, magic, and life experience the natural world around me has to offer. I do not travel to the mountains, I journey through the mountains. Only by slowing down and truly opening all your senses to a wild place will you find the true peace you were meant to exist in. Be not the flitting hummingbird, be instead the perched owl.