Saturday, October 8, 2011

"The Rooftop of America..."

Kerouac coined the phrase in reference to the Rocky Mountains, and it has stuck with me ever since I read it -- as do the majestic mountains themselves every time I see them.

In fact, I deeply and constantly miss them; so much so that I fall into a state of depression upon returning to the city. I sometimes think it best to never visit them again, lest their hold of me begins to have a serious, negative impact on my day to day responsibilities: earning a living, being social and whatnot.

But I love the Rocky Mountains, and could never imagine not being near them. Each unfathomably formed formation is so unique, towering with such personality. They humbly provide an imposing, yet comforting companionship that's as hard to describe as it is to ignore. (I'm reminded of a thought from Thoreau " the traveler, a mountain outline varies with every step and it has an infinite number of profiles, though absolutely but one form...")

The best way I can convey the feeling would be to say it's like visiting the gods, and casually kicking it with them for a bit, or, what I imagine it would be like to grab a beer with the Dalai Lama...

post camping on Keebler's Pass outside of Crested Butte, Colorado; and hiking to Copper Lake

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