Moments of Awww!
Thankful for a Life Lived at RMNP
It happened again this week. Three times. As I’m out with the morning sun, driving or hiking the park in search of images to capture, a view will overwhelm my emotions. My eyes water as my smile grows, and I am thankful for a life lived near Rocky Mountain National Park.
The first time I came to Estes Park, in August 1970, I was attending camp at the YMCA of the Rockies. During camp, each morning we had a thing called “quiet time.” Every camper would find their own spot in the grass of the open field outside the main lodge. There we would sit quietly, reflecting on life inspired by the natural beauty surrounding us.
Those morning meditations lead me on my first mountain hike up Eagle Cliff Mountain. I hiked with a girl from the camp, Cathy from Austin, straight up the mountain to its peak at 8,902 ft. There we sat quietly together, looking down over Moraine Park. I remember the way the Big Thompson River flowed through the meadow, dividing it into the romantic pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
There on the tiny mountain top may have been my first experience of awww. Sitting with Cathy, gazing through the meadow to the massive mountains of the continental divide, I fell in love with Rocky Mountain National Park. (I know, you thought I was going to say Cathy.)
From that moment on, that feeling of awww has not left me.
It doesn’t happen every time I’m in the park, but it does happen at least once a week. I may be driving into Horseshoe Park and see the valley with the backdrop of mountains leading to the top of Old Fall River Road. Or it may be coming down from Deer Mountain gazing at Mount Ypsilon. Often, in the fall, it is a stand of yellow, orange and red aspen leaves brightening the white bark. It is during those moments that I am overwhelmed with a feeling of awww. It is those moments when I am thankful for coming to camp in 1970. That awww has guided my life to a home in Estes Park.
If you’ve experienced that feeling of awww, raise your hand. That’s it, raise it high. We are kindred spirits surrounded by dynamic beauty in a world of wilderness that captures our spirit.
In those moments of awww, happiness fills my heart. I gaze at whatever view has created that emotion. Maybe it is sunrise at Sprague Lake, the multiple colors of morning light reflecting in the clouds and water. On a good day, a moose might wade through the lake. Or it could be a small herd of mule deer grazing on the hillside in Hollowell Park. Sometimes, it is a century old cabin on a hillside in Moraine Park evoking the rugged experience of mountaineers so much stronger than us in a time of exploration.
I read the stories of RMNP’s father Enos Mills, his adventures hiking through deep snow to discover bighorn on a rocky cliff or elk bugling for a mate. He was a man of daring determination. In my younger days, I had visions of climbing Longs Peak, but my short vacations never allowed it to happen. Yet, Enos Mills climbed Longs Peak 305 times in his lifetime. This staggering total included 40 solo ascents and another 265 trips to the summit as a professional nature guide. So when I see his statue in Bond Park or pass his historic cabin along Highway 7, I am in awww.
The first time I brought my family here, my wife Carolyn was both excited and terrified. Seeing elk, viewing snowcapped mountain peaks, walking in downtown Estes Park with the impressive backdrop of the continental divide, she was in awww. But heights frightened her. Driving Trail Ridge Road, she would sit with her hands clapped together in her lap as if gripping them tighter would keep her safe.
After years of this pattern, and knowing she has control issues, I dared her to take control and drive back over the top from Grand Lake. I was teasing, somewhat, but she accepted the challenge. As she drove, I’d look over the edge with comments like “Wow, it’s a long way down” or “I remember when a car went off this edge a few years ago.” With a few derogatory comments thrown back my way, she drove on.
Now, so often we come back from a trip home to Iowa, and Carolyn drives up Big Thompson Canyon. You know those “slow traffic pullouts?” They weren’t meant for her. She drives determined to get back home, to get back to Estes Park. During those drives, I always say, “Don’t get between Carolyn and her mountains.” And when we crest the hill passing the miniature golf and go-cart pavilion, she looks at the magnificent mountains with the emotions of awww.
Estes Park is our home, RMNP is our place, and awww is our emotions. We are so lucky in our lives to call this place home. I’m so lucky that I once came to camp here and was captured by the awww created with the incredible beauty of RMNP.
