We're back from a short trip to Vail and Aspen.
At 8,022' (2,445M), Vail Village is 2,000' (609M) lower than my house.
Snow is mostly melted, even on the mountain.
Trees and spring bulbs are blooming.
Gore Creek is thundering through Vail from spring runoff.
I hiked along the creek, noticing new growth on the banks.
|Bob starting the climb up Independence Pass - about 3,000 more feet to the top|
On the second day, we biked Independence Pass, outside of Aspen.
The Pass was still closed to vehicles on the day we biked.
It officially opened the next morning.
The road was cleared of snow and controlled for avalanche.
At 12,095' (3,686M), it's the highest paved crossing of the Continental Divide in the US.
Starting on our ride, spring shows itself in lime aspen leaves and green grass.
|The old gold mining town of Independence (now a ghost town) is just above 10,000'|
However, the road climbs relentlessly, up, up, and up.
Above 10,000' (3,000M), the landscape is still snow covered.
The high peaks hold snow all summer.
|thanks, Blake, for this photo - nice talking with you!|
I mostly biked alone, at my own (slow) pace.
However, several young people spoke to me as they passed,
encouraging me to "keep pedaling!"
One young man rode with me for awhile, chatting about the pass.
I told him it was a difficult ride for a 72 year old gal.
When he was on his way back down,
he stopped and took this photo of me, still pedaling upward.
|Bob's bike at the top|
As I kept turning the pedals, I thought about how
just a little bit of encouragement can mean a lot.
The people who spoke encouragingly to me helped me keep going through a tough time.
We never know how much our small kindnesses can mean to someone's day.
Biking Independence Pass taught me
something about resolve and also something about being uplifted by others.
Returning home to Breckenridge, we met snow and cold.
However, each day brings more melting.
Today, I'm encouraged by this little Junco building a nest in my wreath -
and by this tiny critter the size of my thumb,
sunning itself in my rock garden.
Let me remember this:
what seems inconsequential is often just the opposite.