Rocky Mountain High

The first indication comes via the window, the scene growing larger as the plane descends.  Its full and breathtaking import only reveals itself when you are able to stand in an open space and turn completely around, slowly.  On one side, a flat, almost barren plateau stretches eastward, unchanged for as far as the eye can discern. It does not look favorable for farming, or much else, save for some cattle that appear to be making a living off it. Look west and you behold, north to south, from horizon to horizon, an unbroken chain of majestic mountains.  And above it all, an unblemished blue sky holds a sun that bores into you with an intensity not found at home ….“back east.”

The contrast is striking, the scale is immense, and yet, in a strange way, the mountains almost look like little mounds of tightly formed clay you could just reach out and touch.  Several of the peaks are jagged and raw, topped with blotches of white snow that look to be simply dusted on for effect. Some have no snow at all, and sit below their larger cousins. 

When you look hard, in certain places, it becomes evident that there isn’t just one or two “lines” of mountains that, once crossed, lead to fertile valleys and flat plains.  These mountains run deep as they stretch to the west. There is no easy path through them.

There is a remarkable absence of vivid color.  The eye beholds muted shades of green, grey, black, and brown.  In another odd way, it is impressively….unimpressive.  This panorama is what floods the eye from a distance of about 25 miles.  That feeling quickly disappears when you approach the mountains.  Once at their base, at the foothills, you gaze upwards, unable to absorb it all. Tiny cracks in the line tempt the voyager to enter. Stunning landscapes greet you as you do. As you venture up higher and deeper into the mountain, you get the distinct feeling you are about to be swallowed up in a forbidden, mysterious, unexplored wilderness.  And you are left to wonder, which paths yield a successful and safe way through the mountains?  Which lead to disaster? 

It’s easy to tell now, with roads leading the way.  But I immediately tried to imagine just what the very first pioneers must have thought and said when they were in this exact same position.  I don’t know the colloquialism of the day back then, but I must believe that it was something very close to “WTF, what do we do now!”   I have a new found respect for these brave souls, and can only partially imagine what they went through.  Were they tough?  You betcha.  We can’t hold a candle to them.  Whenever we feel whiny and speak of our trials and tribulations, we should think of them, and know that our troubles are melted butter compared to what they experienced. 

Oh, where am I, by the way?  Why, Denver, Colorado, of course. The blog title gives you the answer. This huge metropolitan area (depending on how one measures the “Denver area,” it now supports 2.6 million - 3.1 million souls) seems like some one just plopped it down in the middle of nowhere.  My theory is that the first weary pioneer to reach the site of this future city took one look at the mountains and said, “OK, this’ll do,” and promptly built himself a cabin. Trip over.  

Closer to the truth is a blend of opportunity and human tendency.  Denver was first “settled” in 1858, as a mining town, a product of the feverish gold rush.  The original settlement was at the confluence of the South Platte River and Cherry Creek, across the waters from the old seasonal encampments of the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes.  Gold was the fuel, and water the life source, that brought people to this spot. Today, that same area is the site of Confluence Park in downtown Denver.

Denver is a clean city, and offers much in the way of entertainment, culture, food, arts, and sports.  Within sight of Confluence Park and downtown Denver, Peyton Manning flings spheroids through the rarefied air for the sum of 18 million a year - plus change, all in U.S. dollars.  Oh yeah, Denver also has money, and beer, thanks to one Adolph Coors, who got thirsty in this town back in 1873 and decided pure mountain water would make for a great brew. Today, their brewery facility in Golden, CO (right on Denver’s hip, heading west) is the largest in the world.  That’s a lotta suds! You can literally smell the brewing process before you can see the brewery.

And by the way, the official elevation for Denver is exactly 5,280 ft. – one mile, hence the name the “mile high city.” There’s a medallion to mark the spot.  My favorite part of the Denver area has to be the 850 miles (yup, that’s what they told me) in the bike/walk trail system, using the Cherry Creek Trail and the Platte River Trail as a primary starting place. Talk about your riverwalk!  Before this, I thought the one in San Antonio was the nicest I’ve seen, but this one will be hard to beat.   So many miles to bike!  If there is a heaven, this is where it hides.  It is also a very friendly city.  I did not meet one person who didn’t make an extra effort to be hospitable to this stranger.  And another plus - I never encountered “rocky mountain oysters,” so I was spared the necessity to politely decline this local delicacy.  There is a God. 

I saw but a small fraction of this magnificent community, as my stay was all too brief.  But my friends and I did put a wee dent in seeing all that the greater Denver area offers travelers. Denver is a place I liked immensely, and one I would love to visit again, and again.  Hey, they get 300 days of sunshine a year.  Syracuse gets only 161 days when the sun at least peeks in on us.  No wonder people are always smiling in Denver.  And I was one of them. 

Mark Twain Quote:  “A mine is a hole in the ground owned by a liar.”