~the view from 12,000 feet~

"In the beginning, it was like a sleeping monster to me.  A giant that was always on the prowl. Make one false step, just a single slip up along the way and it would awaken to reach out and devour me in one fell swoop.  I grew to have a healthy fear of it, a great respect for it, and even as time went by a sense of reverence for it.  Prior to January of 2013, this Kansas farm girl had never even heard of it.  Now, 18 months after our first meeting one another, I've passed over it too many times to count.  Way too many times to remember."    (my view of the pass at Monarch Mountain)

    Yesterday the "nine-year old girl" that still lives within me asked  if we could go out to play and I said "yes" once again.  Mike and I left in the early morning hours to head out for a day trip to Salida, Colorado to meet up with our dear friends from back in Wichita, Kansas who are now fulltime RV'ers.  Leroy and Anne Willis arranged to meet up with us for Sunday lunch yesterday and we were happy to be able to see them once again.  A person can never have too many friends in this life of ours and we are grateful to call the Willis Family ours. 


    

We paused for a moment  yesterday along the bridge overlooking the Arkansas River below.  Although the hours  together went quickly, the four of us had a great time visiting with one another.  It had been since October of 2013 back in Sedgwick, Kansas that we had seen one another. 
     Since we had taken out from home here in the Montrose area a little sooner than we had planned, it was apparent that we would get to Salida much earlier than our original "ETA" of 12:00 noon.  We arrived at the great Continental Divide over Monarch Pass by midmorning and since Salida is just down at the bottom of it, we knew there was time to kill.  Out of the blue, all of a sudden I said to Mike seventeen  words that I never thought would be spewed out of my mouth.

 "Hey, maybe this would be a good day to try riding the gondolas up to the top!"

And so we did.

     The price seemed right as we gladly told the guy at the ticket counter that we definitely qualified for the senior discount at our ages.  So after Mike gave him our $16 we found ourselves climbing into the tram car that would take us another 1,000 feet or so into the air.  Right before we took off, we asked him to take our photo as proof that we did indeed go up there.  Right before we left the departure area, I asked Mike if it was going to be scary.  He said maybe, just a bit.  Too late now because shortly after this photo was taken, we were already slowly making our way to the very top of the mountain.

     It really wasn't all that scary and as the tram slowly pulled us to the top we got to see up close and personal all kinds of  scenery that we had only seen from a distance as we speed along Highway 50 in our journeys back and forth between Hutchinson and Montrose.  There is plenty to look at from up there, a panoramic view of the Rocky Mountains as seen from over two miles, straight up.

A beautiful pond, nestled deep down on the other side of the mountain~

I was amazed to see that the "4H-ers" even have their own spot of the mountain up on top.  I thought of my very good friend, Jessica (Mandeville) Ray and all of the fun we had working with our 4H kids back home at Lincoln Elementary in Hutchinson, Kansas.

Everywhere you looked there were beautiful wildflowers growing.  Visitors at the top are reminded not to pick them as they are protected in the national park setting.

Mike chose this backdrop for his photo at the top.  Wow, not sure if there was a bad view to pose for a picture in.  God's handiwork, His creation at its finest yesterday morning.

Windy and a bit on the chilly side at 12,000 feet.  Forget about combing your hair or even worrying about what it might look like in a picture!

It brought a smile to my face to realize that I was not the only Jayhawker who had ever been there and by the looks of it, plenty of Sooners have made the journey here as well.

     In January of 2013, I came over Monarch Mountain for the very first time in my life.  It was the early morning hours and winter's darkness enshrouded everything.  I had no idea what I was crossing over.  Absolutely NONE.  Save for the snowplow guy at the very top, I was the only vehicle on the roadway that morning all the way from Salida to the bottom of the mountain on the other side of the Continental Divide.  It wasn't until I returned back home to Kansas 3 days later after visiting Mike out here for the first time in 40 years that I saw in broad daylight what I had driven on only 72 hours earlier.  My only thought, one that I will most certainly never forget was this~

"Holy cow!  Thank the good Lord above that it was dark when I came through this the first time.  I am sure glad that I didn't see what this really looks like.  Not sure if I would have been all that brave after all."

     Yesterday the visitor's center was very busy and filled with travelers from all over the place.  People were posing for photos in front of the sign that announces both the Atlantic and the Pacific sides of the great Continental Divide.  Several folks just like us had decided to ride the tram to the top and many of them opted to walk down the path to return to the bottom once again.  Motorcyclists buzzed through in huge groups and folks pulling all kinds of recreational vehicles were parked in the visitor's lot as they too enjoyed the view.  It was nice to see such a crowd there because all too soon winter's arrival will come again and all one will see is deep piles of snow hiding the building behind it.  Having been a witness to  that sight more times than not, I remarked to Mike that for a traveler in the wintertime it is such a lonely thing to see.  Words like  DESOLATE, ISOLATED, FORGOTTEN, and FORLORN always come to mind.

    You know,  I used to be afraid of Monarch Mountain.  I no longer am.  The weird thing is, the mountain didn't change a bit but I did.  The lonely flatlander, homesick for Kansas as I was last summer, has learned a few things about traveling through the mountains.  I have respect for the terrain now and realize how foolish we sometimes are to believe that we can outrun bad weather at any time of the year.  I know firsthand about being foolish.  All I have to do is to drive by the igloo 28 miles east of our home here to remember the day that I thought I could outrun a snowstorm.  You know me.  I sometimes have to learn the hard way. 

     Later this week we will climb over the mountain again and this time rather than heading towards Kansas we will be  making our way towards southwestern Oklahoma and across the border into Texas for a visit with our family there.  Not long after we arrive back home,  it will then be time to return to school and I am most ready to do so. 

     I love life. I love living.  I am anxious to see what is down the road now for me as I enter my second year of life in Colorado.  God didn't transplant me here over 600 miles away accidentally.  I was meant to be here and whatever my destiny is, it awaits me.  Perhaps we shall meet out there somewhere as you are looking for yours.