Where Does the Trip of Many Passes Lead You?

Learning to be present amidst the unknown.

Road trips. Lost highways. Mountain passes. All are part of the American lexicon of travel.

After cars became entertainment itself, we who grew up in the ‘60s-‘70s, remember what it was like to lay on the back seat floorboards in your parent’s huge car built in Detroit.

The bump in the middle of the floor divided two of my sisters and me, and she who ‘won’ the day reigned over the upper seat. She stretched out with the dog at her feet and spent time staring at the clouds as we rushed down an unknown highway. The other two either slept, read, or played word games.

Each trip was fun in its own right and planning them as I got older became a joy.

I spent part of Thanksgiving Day 2019 sitting at my sister’s kitchen table, poring over maps online and discussing routes we wanted to take on a bucket list trip to Vermont. She is my only remaining nuclear family member. And as we talked about the trip, we knew the setup was part of the fun.

It was such a wonderful time planning the trip, knowing there would likely be some changes to the schedule, but never once thinking that we would have to postpone the whole trip in the pandemic that ensued in 2020.

When spring came, we recognized the changing landscape of our country and world. Noting that travel anywhere was impossible to predict, regardless of how we traveled, made the choices difficult.

Then it came to us both. Hitting ourselves figuratively on the forehead, we realized the decision was obvious. We’d travel in our home state. One that millions travel to annually for its beauty and diverse activities.

Colorado.

We decided that we’d still drive during the same time of year — autumn foliage season. In this case, watching the state’s symbolic aspen trees change their colors from green to gold to orange. Watching them rustle in the wind (called quaking) is a delight that many hope to see when they make the trek around the Rocky Mountains.

My family always called it ‘going on an aspen run.’ From the time I was a small child to this autumn season, I have spent at least one day every year reveling in and marveling at the beauty of my state during the fall aspen season. Yes, I feel proprietary and protective. Many things can happen in nature, and I worry about what will happen to our forests in the future.

I imagine I feel much like how those who live by a seashore feel about their beaches and ocean fronts.

But there is a delight I feel when I drive along a mountain highway or side road, not knowing what is around the curve, yet always believing that the vista will be stunning. I relish in the unknown as much as I do in the familiar roads I’ve taken since before I learned to drive a car.

We decided to head southwest, as there were towns and scenery we haven’t been to in years, if ever in that part of the state.

I drove the whole trip — in her SUV — as I love to get behind the wheel. And I wanted to surprise my sister with some backroads that I’d mapped out.

We drove and talked. Singing songs from our childhood while laughing at how we remembered all of the words brought us joy. And I’d pull over to take pictures of the trees and mountainsides just begging to be noticed.

We saw places neither of us had ever spent time in while revisiting childhood sites that withstood the test of time. The Great Sand Dunes National Park is a marvel and a spot we hadn’t been near since we were children. It was a fantastic view to see the sea of sand or, as I like to call it — waves of sand. Though dry desert-like locales aren’t my favorite part of our state, they are still beautiful and unique to see, especially when you consider how the winds make use of the land.

Nature is stunning.

Everywhere we went, small mountain towns, winding two-lane highways, or open vistas, I was reminded of how lucky and blessed we are to live in such a place. I try to envision being both a visitor or a pioneer coming across a mountain stream, a grove of aspen quaking in the autumn breeze with the sun dappling the entire forest or gasping in awe at the height and majesty of the passes we went over to get to our next destination.

Colorado has a lot of passes. To go on the roads we’d chosen, we went over six mountain passes (one of them twice).

Yes, I am waxing poetic about my home state. And I imagine many of you would as well if you had the chance.

But the trip of many passes taught me a few things about the place I call home, as well.

Take your time.

Even during the lockdown, I, and others I know, spent far too much time being busy. Since we couldn’t go anywhere, we spent our time taking care of our home base. I heard stories of decluttering sessions, sourdough bread baking — and other culinary feats, television, movie, music binging, and reading many books and articles online.

I’m not saying that these activities are harmful in any way. But we didn’t give ourselves a chance to be present. Be part of the world. Slow down — or stop thinking that we have must be active. Stop and enjoy a creek on a mountain road. Give yourself the present as a present.

Find your Rhythm.

No matter where you live, take a drive outside the city or town. Or walk. In a park, along a trail, in an area that you’ve always wanted to explore.

Your trip of many passes could be local. Treat certain streets as a pass — a main thoroughfare, highway, or city/town limits.

Make the journey an adventure. As we are now moving back into a more routine lifestyle, working, eating out, going to entertainment venues again, remember to spend time just being present to nature and your home state or province.

Each time you wander, make it an opportunity to learn more about yourself in those spaces. Let yourself breathe in the fresh air, wonder at how the landscape can change over a day, and take in all of the beauty of our planet.

No matter where you are going, you will always find yourself.

Be Open Says;

Everyone can contribute to this Open Poem!