Growing up in Oklahoma, I thought mountains were just rockier hills that you could summit in shorts and tennis shoes. The first time I saw the Rockies, I didn't even know what I was looking at, as the snowcapped peaks just looked like clouds on the horizon. As the shadows beneath the snowcaps grew, I realized just how small I really am (and how flat Oklahoma really is).
I believe you never quite get used to the view of the mountains. If you're ever had the privilege to sleep in a room with a mountain view, you know what I'm talk about. You're not prepared for the brilliance when you draw back the curtain. It's like fire. It quite literally takes your breath away.
Willie Nelson once compared the view of golden mountains at dawn to true love, and I don't think he was wrong. The most spectacular views come in the most innocuous places, much like love is strongest in the mundane details.
I remember walking out of a Walmart once in Colorado Springs and being stopped in my tracks. We'd been driving through mountains for the better part of the day, but emerging from a stuffy supermarket into a grand view from the parking lot was both startling and breathtaking. Pictures and secondhand accounts don't do it justice when you can see Pike's Peak from your parking place.
It's on hot summer days in Oklahoma that I miss Colorado the most. Maybe I have a bit of John Muir in me, or maybe I just long for 75 and no humidity. Probably a bit of both.
It's the possibility they represent that tugs at me. If I lived at the foot, one day I could pack up and journey into the highlands, making friends with the moose like I'm Snow White. Of course, I couldn't leave that settled life (I like burgers and basketball too much), but just the idea of backpacking into the wilderness without a plan to come back is enough to drive me to Denver.
Maybe someday I'll make it there...
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