I have always been fascinated by the perseverance of nature, the way the great landmarks of the world seem to remain the same despite everything that is changing in my life. Every year I return to the powerful and awe-inspiring mountains of Telluride, Colorado, and each time I am equally amazed. Telluride is a modest town located in a box canyon in the San Juan Mountains with a population of 2,300 people. My family hikes, bikes, rafts, and skis in these mountains, yet, for some reason, of all the various trails and rivers, I feel the most at ease at Blue Lake.
This past summer I once again made the 1,820 foot climb to Blue Lake. I had forgotten how challenging it could be to keep a timely pace on such a steep and rocky terrain, and it did not take long until I was breathing heavily and feeling the effect of the high altitude. This, along with the burn in my legs, was enough to make me question my decision to hike that trail again. I kept repeating to myself that the pain would be worth it the moment I reached the top, but at the time all I could think about was collapsing. Relief came from the black face rock that towered above all else. This monstrous figure marked the final leg of the trip, and the sight of it always excited me. I suddenly had the energy to pick up my pace for the last ten minutes. Finally, I came over the last hill and was able to see the deep aqua water that gave Blue Lake its name.
The lake was surrounded by tall snowcapped peaks that slowly melted into the lake. As I walked atop the stones that covered the shores, they emitted a sharp chink! that was reminiscent of bricks hitting the ground. The stones, I noticed, were blue-grey in color, and complimented the lake perfectly. I made my way to a squared boulder, my preferred resting place to enjoy the view. Though the temperature was distinctly colder by the lake that day, the earth beneath me had absorbed the sun and provided a contrasting warmth that I could feel beneath my palms. This... this was the place that had always relieved me of all my prior headaches.
That morning I had been stressed, rearranging my schedule to fit in work, sports, family. Yet on that lake, I was able to forget everything. Maybe my calendar was full, and maybe my life was changing too quickly, but those peaks, and that lake, were unaffected. No matter what my age, these mountains were changing too slowly to be any different in my lifetime. From the time I first wondered at these waters as a child, to that July when I was preparing for my last year in high school, the lake still reflected the same peaks I had seen nearly every summer. Realizing this humbled me. None of my worries mattered here, and once more I found myself admiring the nature around me rather than thinking on petty anxieties. This was the calming effect of the lake that I had worked so hard to achieve.
I will continue to return to the serenity of Blue Lake every year, to work hard for the summit in order to experience that same bliss I felt resting on that boulder. It is soothing to think that in the future, when I have a job and a family, I will always know where I can experience peace again. So, while a year from now I will be leaving my home and making great changes in my life, I can appreciate that Blue Lake will always be waiting, wherever I may be.
This past summer I once again made the 1,820 foot climb to Blue Lake. I had forgotten how challenging it could be to keep a timely pace on such a steep and rocky terrain, and it did not take long until I was breathing heavily and feeling the effect of the high altitude. This, along with the burn in my legs, was enough to make me question my decision to hike that trail again. I kept repeating to myself that the pain would be worth it the moment I reached the top, but at the time all I could think about was collapsing. Relief came from the black face rock that towered above all else. This monstrous figure marked the final leg of the trip, and the sight of it always excited me. I suddenly had the energy to pick up my pace for the last ten minutes. Finally, I came over the last hill and was able to see the deep aqua water that gave Blue Lake its name.
The lake was surrounded by tall snowcapped peaks that slowly melted into the lake. As I walked atop the stones that covered the shores, they emitted a sharp chink! that was reminiscent of bricks hitting the ground. The stones, I noticed, were blue-grey in color, and complimented the lake perfectly. I made my way to a squared boulder, my preferred resting place to enjoy the view. Though the temperature was distinctly colder by the lake that day, the earth beneath me had absorbed the sun and provided a contrasting warmth that I could feel beneath my palms. This... this was the place that had always relieved me of all my prior headaches.
That morning I had been stressed, rearranging my schedule to fit in work, sports, family. Yet on that lake, I was able to forget everything. Maybe my calendar was full, and maybe my life was changing too quickly, but those peaks, and that lake, were unaffected. No matter what my age, these mountains were changing too slowly to be any different in my lifetime. From the time I first wondered at these waters as a child, to that July when I was preparing for my last year in high school, the lake still reflected the same peaks I had seen nearly every summer. Realizing this humbled me. None of my worries mattered here, and once more I found myself admiring the nature around me rather than thinking on petty anxieties. This was the calming effect of the lake that I had worked so hard to achieve.
I will continue to return to the serenity of Blue Lake every year, to work hard for the summit in order to experience that same bliss I felt resting on that boulder. It is soothing to think that in the future, when I have a job and a family, I will always know where I can experience peace again. So, while a year from now I will be leaving my home and making great changes in my life, I can appreciate that Blue Lake will always be waiting, wherever I may be.