What the Mountains Give
The Most Beautiful Scene I Had Ever Seen
I had a birthday last week. A lot of years have gone by. That birthday morning, I was up at 5:00 AM, took care of the dogs and opened a birthday card from my wife. Lovingly, it said something about being so old my first wildlife photo was of a dinosaur. With a chuckle, I headed out into RMNP looking for less prehistoric animals.
As I drove, I reflected on so many years and the influences through that time. When I was a kid living in a Mississippi River town, my dad’s passion was playing piano, jazz piano. He was darn good too and a connector. I believe I was in third grade when he took me to a jazz concert. I remember because I was irritated that I couldn't stay home and play baseball, but he insisted. Afterward, we went backstage, and he introduced me to several of the musicians including his friend, Louie Armstrong. I remember he was a nice guy with a deep voice and kind of sweaty.
When I was around twelve, during Dad’s vacation we went to Las Vegas where he had a gig. On the way, we stopped in Colorado and spent the night in a quaint little mom and pop motel. The next morning, I stepped out to see the bright sun rising over the mountains highlighting dynamic, snowcapped peaks.
It was the most beautiful scene I had ever seen. Standing in awe, I didn’t hear my dad the first time he called. Then he yelled, “Hey Brad. Let’s go. We’ve got to get to Vegas.” He was as excited about going to Vegas as I was overwhelmed by the vision of mountain beauty.
I could have stood there forever.
When I was fifteen, I attended camp at the YMCA of the Rockies here in Estes Park. That same feeling, being mesmerised and wanting to stay forever, dominated my emotions. There was a mountain there, one I kept looking at. EP mountaineers know what I was thinking…so I climbed the mountain. A small mountain, but for a flatlander, it was my first mountain. I sat on top, looked down at Moraine Park and watched the water of the Big Thompson River meander like the edges of puzzle pieces through the valley.
Years later at twenty-four years old, I found myself caught in a confusing time of my life. Darkness seemed to dominate, and I was searching for the light. In an effort to find brightness, I hitch-hiked from Nebraska through RMNP and over to Steamboat. There, with a pack on my back, I wandered into the deep, dark forest looking for light. After a week I emerged smelly, dirty, tired, and lonely. My perspective had changed. I had quit focusing on what I didn’t have. The mountains had helped me realize how much I did have - family, friends, and the wonderful people I worked with. I’d realized, my world was truly full of joy. Since that time, the bright light of an optimistic perspective has always guided my life.
From that point on, Estes Park became my go-to vacation spot. There were hikes to Sky Pond, Ouzel Falls, the three lakes, and on and on. Always a walk into the light. Elk rut was amazing, to capture photos on my Canon Rebel that Andre Agassi had convinced me to buy. In the mid-1980s there was my first moose, a big-antlered bull who confronted me on the Green Mountain Trail.
Over the years, I’d spent nights in Lonigans dancing to Dick Orlean’s magical acoustic music. Dinner on the balcony at Mary’s Lake Lodge. Beers in outdoor seating with the sun rained down on us. Pizza at Bob and Tony’s where I’d written my name on a brick following my senior year in high school. And I’ve enjoyed Cowboy Brad Fitch singing in the park. Life during those visits motivated more dreams to be here.
One day, we visited an open house at a new vacation housing complex. Beautiful homes, I looked at the price sheet, and sighed. I knew living there would only be in my dreams. Yet five years ago, I retired, left the flatlands, and moved into an Estes Park home in that very same complex. Through hard work and determination, my dream had become a reality shared with my wife, Carolyn.
So now, nearly every day, I load my camera gear into my SUV and drive into RMNP. Last week on my birthday morning, I drove with the same sense of awe and wonder I’d experienced as a boy standing outside that little motel. The mountains surrounding me were my home. The valley’s filled with wildlife, my photographic canvas.
As I arrived at my first stop, I was greeted by a throng of like-minded photographers. Two moose wandered the meadow to the lake, friends chatted while looking through viewfinders, and then one person wished me happy birthday. It was followed by more wishes, hugs, and congratulations for living longer than a dinosaur. I was surrounded by good friends, good people, and talented photographers.
I stepped back looking up at the same mountain view I had absorbed time and again. I could have stood there forever - and plan to do so.
