As we rode up through the gorge towards the pass, I had no idea just how high the view was going to be. In hindsight, the 10,250’ elevation was potentially going to be awesome! As it was we made a stop at 8,000 feet on the way, so I had a tangible reference point to compare.
The 8,000′ view was stunning! Three different valleys played out across the 180-degree sight lines. Gray clouds with occasional shafts of bright sunlight bathed the forested mountains and sharp rock faces that surrounded the river beds at the bottom. I did not want to leave. I also found myself wanting to soak it all in with the silence accented by a wind that periodically snuck around the mountain’s edge.
By the time we arrived at the pass, we were surrounded and consumed in a rain cloud. Visibility was at a minimum. It was misty and raining at the same time. The wind was howling and the temperature hovering in the low 40s. My sight lines were intense but in a very different kind of way. I could see and feel the goose pumps on my arms when I took off my riding gloves. The pink purple skin was textured by a natural response of trying to be warm! Everywhere I looked was a variation on the theme of cold, wet, and slippery.
I was reminded of the contrast between the psalmist’s view of Divinity and my own in life chaos and dark moments. On one hand, “God looked out from his high holy place; from heaven he surveyed the earth” (Psalm 102.19) and beauty and wonder followed. From a different vantage point, same mountain, one could only see the chaos, darkness, and slippery slope.
I look back on the mountain with fondness. The memory etched is of green forests, cold streams, and amazing views. The memories of being cold, wet, and trying to ride with limited visibility are still there, but they are not the first things that come to mind. I love experiencing sights of beauty, wonder, and awe.
