As someone who grew up in Washington and spent lot of time enjoying the Cascade Mountains, I’ve had ample opportunity to form a deep appreciation for true high country.
There’s nothing quite like breathing mountain air, and there’s no exaggerating the majestic and robust natural beauty found in and around high elevations.
During a trip last week to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado and New Mexico, my wife, Wendy, and I were fortunate enough to spend several days being inundated by all the great things that big mountains have to offer.
Until late last week, I had never heard of “Garden of the Gods” near the city of Colorado Springs. But having now visited the free, 1,367-acre park, I realize it’s one of the most unique and awe-inspiring pieces of high country real estate in the U.S. – and maybe the world.
As you drive on the nice roads or walk on the paved trails that crisscross the park, there are huge, colorful rock formations everywhere you look. Really, it’s an ideal spot for anyone who likes photography or just being outdoors.
The name, Garden of the Gods, has an odd origin. Europeans who settled nearby first called the area “Red Rock Corral” (for good reason). But in 1859, a couple of surveyors who helped establish Colorado City explored the site: M. S. Beach and Rufus Cable.
The story goes that Beach suggested it would be a “capital place for a beer garden.” But Cable – captivated by the impressive rock formations – exclaimed, “Beer garden? Why, it is a fit place for the gods to assemble! We will call it the Garden of the Gods.”
Whatever it’s called, when you stand there and try to take in such grandeur, it’s hard not to feel a bit insignificant and marvel at the sheer magnitude of the one true God’s creation.
Also in Colorado, we drove up Pike’s Peak, the famous “fourteener” that signals the eastern edge of the Rockies and Colorado’s “front range.”
While we got our fill of incredible views, we also almost got blown off the dang mountain!
As we stood next to the Pike’s Peak Toll Road at a bit over 12,000 feet (the highest point we were allowed to reach because of high winds), we were at the highest elevation either of us had ever experienced. But we were also feeling some of the strongest wind, with it blowing steady at about 65 miles per hour and gusts frequently blowing much harder.
It’s kind of wild when you think about it: Super thin air blowing really hard. And the air was so thin it even affected our ability to breathe and made us feel a bit tired.
We got safely up and down, though, avoiding being blown to Denver or meeting up with one of the alleged resident Bigfoots (or is it Bigfeet?).
Once we entered New Mexico, we encountered more mountains of fun.
The range that rises high above the historic town of Taos can’t be described adequately – it must be seen to be fully appreciated. But suffice it to say that when the sun shines on the area after a heavy snowfall, the scene resembles a fine painting done by a famous artist or one of those amazing photographs taken by Ansel Adams.
Actually, it’s better than either of those examples, but that’s how good an artist God is.
Before coming back down to the lowlands, we visited the mountain town of Red River and went on a 15-mile guided snowmobile trek. The conditions were ideal; there was about 20 inches of new snow on the ground (well up to the knees of my long legs), the temperature was in the 20s and not a lot of wind was blowing.
To expound a little further, imagine a deep, bright white layer of powder covering literally everything. Add a throttle in your right hand, a padded seat between your legs and the sound of a high-powered two-stroke engine in your ears.
Then add a high mountain trail, billowing white smoke (a.k.a. flying powder snow), and throw in a little speed. Let me tell you, it’s not bad.
To say it was a great few hours doesn’t do it justice; it honestly was one of the most memorable things I’ve ever done.
The mountains we were in offer far more activity than we enjoyed, like fishing for native trout, skiing in the winter and hiking and camping in the summer. But that’s just how it is in the high country.
Doug Davison is a writer, photographer and newsroom assistant for the Houston Herald. His columns are posted online at www.houstonherald.com. Email: ddavison@houstonherald.com.