In late spring of 1988, I was forced into a rite of passage that my mother and father felt was necessary at the time of my graduation from high school; a family vacation. I use the term “forced” loosely, because I was eighteen years old, I would be away from my girlfriend, and stuck in the back seat of a car with an annoying little brother (two years younger). I was predicting doom before we even left town. The trip my parents had envisioned was leaving our small hometown in Iowa and traveling through the southwestern states, step across the border of Tijuana, Mexico, drive up the coast of California to San Francisco, return through the western states, and then back to Iowa, all while being subjected to country music selected by my father on the car radio (I preferred 1980s hairbands and heavy metal). The songs featured artist like Alabama, Kenny Rogers, Hank Williams, and George Jones.
Our family vacation had its struggles throughout, however we did accomplish the goal set before us. What I did not expect was a complete connection with one particular stop along our route: Pikes Peak in Colorado. As we made the steep upward climb on the mountain roadway, we encountered rain, sleet, snow, and sunshine, which required patience and perseverance for each person in the vehicle. Part-way to the top, we encountered huge glacial wall of snow packed drifts. My dad found a small area to pull off on the shoulder and mom snapped a photo of me in front of the snow wall where I had carved my name.
Upon reaching the summit, my breath was taken away; in more than one way. The picture of me at the summit was the reward of an arduous journey by car up the twisting switchbacks to the top. The altitude is 14,110 feet above sea level, making the air very thin and quite a bit cooler than the blue jean shorts weather at the bottom, but at least I had my leather jacket; which I still have 27 years later. The view was awe inspiring as I looked out across the valley floor through the cloud cover. It gave me the feeling of being in a dream, however this may have been the lack of oxygen getting to my brain. I also momentarily pondered if this is what it might feel like being an eagle soaring through the air. Occasionally, a mental image of that day still rises to the forefront of my mind, lending a calmness to the soul and taking me back to a time of family togetherness (which was against my young judgement at the time).
Later that same year, I returned to the glorious mountain top of Pikes Peak with my girlfriend Chaeli,now wife of twenty-four years, because I had to have her share in my experience. Instead of driving the treacherous road to the summit this time, we opted to ascend the mountain using the cog train. The cog train provided a different perspective mentally and visually of Pikes Peak elevation and beauty. I say mentally, because I did not have to focus on changing weather conditions while driving. I just sat on a cog train bench, holding the hand of the girl I cherished, while peering through large glass viewing windows. The two of us captured our own memories and photos of that day, which is reminiscent of my own summit photograph earlier that year on my family trip.
