Cruising at altitude

Yesterday, Mary and I spent about twelve hours driving 360 miles through the Colorado Rockies with Pat and Patty, all above 5,000 feet and maybe two thirds above 8,000, topping out at 14,000 and change. The day before, we took the cog railway to the top of Pike’s Peak (14,000-plus) and then today, we flew home (commercial airliners are pressurized to the equivalent of about 8,000 feet).

This evening, I feel like I’m in a permanent yawn.  And I’m as tired as I can recall having been. Turns out, altitude does not become me.

That’s okay. Mary and I had a fantastic time visiting with Pat and Patty and their friends.

Don’t get me wrong - I couldn’t live in a mile-high location. I’m too fond of oxygen. But I definitely understand why people would go through acclimating themselves to the rarified atmosphere in order to be able to live where they do.

We saw bighorn sheep and elk and deer and marmots up close. Rock formations that could only be formed by the patient hand of erosion. We witnessed virga and pouring rain, dark gray clouds and blue skies within an hour of each other. Babbling brooks and roaring rapids and dry gulches abounded.

We travelled through high tundra and conifer forests. Granite canyons and high plains. And saw firsthand the ravages of fires and bark beetles and time.

We saw where Katharine Lee Bates was inspired to write the lyric to America The Beautiful and understood why.  

Mary and I are unlikely ever to have the scratch to afford whirlwind tours of Europe or cruises to the Pacific islands. Doesn’t matter. There are some truly wondrous things to see right here at home.