As the shuttle bus made its way through the winding road taking us another 2,000 feet above sea level, I began to feel relieved and excited. It had taken us a plane, a car, and two buses to get here, and I couldn’t wait to have my breath taken away.
It took me only a few clicks to book this mountain vacation. It sounded dreamy and idyllic to stay in a town nestled in one of the highest mountain ranges in North America. Families and friends have told me about its amazing sceneries, and I wanted to experience it myself. However, it didn’t cross my mind to conduct a feasibility study.
“Mom, Dad told me he’s mad at you. He said you made him drive and drive on the scary road. Don’t you know he is afraid of height?”
It looked like my husband reached out to our youngest and confided in her. Little did he know she is not a child that can keep a secret.
My husband caught a bad cold before our vacation. He brought his cold from New York to Denver, and it worsened during the trip. Friends have warned us about altitude-related sickness, and it seemed to have found its perfect victim. He was so congested that he felt his head was about to explode. It’s in this physical condition he drove 70 miles from Denver to Estes Park. We had no idea US-36 is nothing like I-95. As the road became narrower, the turns got sharper with increasing frequency, and I could no longer pretend to enjoy the view. My husband had sweaty palms. Twice he had to pull over to the side of the road to let the cars behind us pass. We both have zero appetites for roller coasters, and look at where we put ourselves. I kept staring at the Google Map on my phone and wondered whether it was stuck because of the weakened signal. How could it be that we haven’t even advanced one mile?
Finally, we made it to Estes Park, a popular base for tourists to visit Rocky Mountain National Park. I decided right there we were not going to drive any further up the mountain. We would take the bus.
The word behold came to my mind when I looked at these mountains. They were awe-inspiring, and they reminded me of God.
God spoke to Moses on a mountain. Jesus taught his hearers that men could move mountains if and only if they have faith the size of a mustard seed.
In a way, mountains have become a symbol of challenges and problems in life.
“Man that is born of a woman is … full of trouble,” lamented Job, a Biblical character whose life seems more like a fiction. Job experienced a series of difficult losses and personal tragedies that he wished he was never born.
PATHS
Since the beginning of time, men have had this inner desire to conquer mountains. Pioneers and explorers have gone before us to mark the paths and trails that we now follow. They guided us to reach a destination, such as a waterfall, a lake, or a summit.
We came across a narrow brook with just enough rocks to get us from one side to the other. A fellow hiker told us that that was the only way to cross in the past, then a large plank was laid across the brook to make it easier for the hikers. And, of course, I took the easy way.
A marked trail removes any fear in us when we face a formidable mountain. With such a path come movements. Movements energize us to actions, and they reveal directions.
Do we see a path in our mountain? Are we moving towards a destination?
TREES
“Wow, trees,” said my 10-year-old after she woke up from her long nap on the bus. Even though the Rocky Mountains are known for their magnificently sculpted, craggy formation, there are enough trees to form a forest. These trees show forth life, vitality, and endurance as they stand on the edge of the tree line and above which nothing grows.
Can we still thrive even when we are near no man’s land? Do we plant ourselves below the tree line, the side that is viable for life?
BIRDS
While looking everywhere for wildlife, such as a massive elk and moose, we had to shoo away birds that were not shy about making their presence known. Exotic-looking birds flew by and came quite close to us. With wings, they have little worry for our kind. As they defy gravity, they are detached from the earth. They soar as they please.
Are we so attached to worldly possessions that we cannot soar?
All hikers have the same thing in mind – to reach the end of the trail. Even our sheltered, suburban kids had this idea in them – we don’t turn back without getting to the end! The sign that said we were only half a mile away encouraged us. Our strength was renewed, and when we heard the sound of rushing water from the waterfall, we started to run.
Finally, the moment came when we stood on the highest point of this trail, overlooking the horizon, the trees, and the paths below.
Why do we turn away from trouble when we can fearlessly walk into the literal mountain? Why do we proudly pose for our summit photos on social media when we avoid obstacles of all kinds? Life is full of ironies.
My children gobbled up the ham and cheese sandwiches I made while agreeing that these were the worst sandwiches ever. They were so hungry that they stopped being picky. I had a whole bag of oranges lying around in the kitchen for days, and no one would eat them. But, once I peeled one and offered it to our kids, they immediately asked for more. A sweet, juicy fruit really hit the spot. Even soggy sandwiches taste like gourmet fare.
Life without challenges can spoil us. On the other hand, life with challenges teaches us contentment and simple abundance. As our car pulled into a parking space right outside our rental, our whole family clapped and roared with joyful relief. We were done. We could now go, spread out, and relax in the comfort of our own space. And we couldn’t wait to hydrate ourselves with icy, cold water.
“Mom, we are not going back there, okay?” My older daughter said. Even though we had one more day in Estes Park, we decided we were going to chill. Another hike in the Rockies might have to wait until our children are old enough to drive us.
Our adventure was not quite over yet – not until after we made it down the very rocky mountain.
I was anxious about the drive down the next day that I couldn’t fall asleep at night, nor could my husband. He tossed and turned for hours. The way down would be more nerve-wracking as the car would be on the outside lane – with low fences protecting us from a death plunge.
Once we were on the road, I couldn’t help but keep on telling my husband to slow down. He felt pressured by the cars that tailgated behind us. After having gone through one wild turn after the other, my older daughter started to groan. “I don’t feel well,” she said. Now there were three of us on edge. I pulled out a plastic bag from my pocketbook. “Take this,” I turned around and said to my poor girl, “just in case you want to throw up.” Soon after, I heard loud barf coming from the back seat. My daughter threw up her breakfast as our two other children pinched their noses in disgust. Spotting an area for slow vehicles to pull over, my husband stopped the car for all of us to take a breather and get some fresh air. Imagine if I didn’t have a plastic bag in my pocketbook? And why did I have one? It had to be providential.
“I will drive next time we are here so I won’t throw up,” my daughter said after she recovered. As for me, I’d rather sit in the back and puke my guts out than having my anxiety level skyrocket with my husband behind the wheel.
Speaking of my beloved, the day we hiked was the day he fully recovered from his cold and altitude-related illnesses. Our first night in the Rockies was so difficult for him that I worried if we’d ever make it back home. I had almost regretted booking this trip. Yet, we were rewarded with an experience of a lifetime. Good-bye, the mighty Rockies.