Before we left on our trip, I mentioned in a fellowship meeting at my church that I hoped I could stand on a mountain and be renewed. One of that group prayed such for me. It was ‘cute.’
By the time we arrived in Pagosa Springs, we were all tired: tired of riding, tired of driving, tired of not sleeping, tired of each other. We were all getting internally frazzled. Pagosa Springs boasts natural hot mineral waters that are healing to the body and soothing to the psyche. We were excited about “soothing”. Added to that, our hotel boasted a large indoor swimming pool and a hot tub which was only a little hall away from our rooms. I was talked out of renting the extra room. The rooms were fair sized, though still cramped once all the suitcases were inside. I gave in to the ‘togetherness’ argument.
It’s about an hour and a half from Pagosa Springs to the Chaco Culture National Monument. This had, from the beginning, been one of our planned destinations. But many of us were tired of driving and we’d already seen many ruins. Originally, my husband and I were excited about the prospect of being able to look through the large telescope housed there, but the group, being what it was, that was an unlikely event. Our leader was sure everyone would enjoy Chaco. I personally dreaded the three hours round trip.
After securing our rooms and moving in our luggage, all but ‘two’ of our number loaded into a van and went in search of food and sanity, hoping we could find both somewhere. For a couple of days, the “two” had been pulling away from the group, complaining frequently about the money we were spending, the amount of road time, the places we stopped to eat. When we got to the Hotel, there was a small altercation of sorts, but most of us tried to ignore it. We should have seen the split coming, but once we were in the vehicles, food – inexpensive, sit down, food was all we thought of. The “two” had seen a Taco Bell on the way into town and said they’d catch a bite there.
The other two vehicles went searching. Not realizing how far we were from the old part of Pagosa Springs, we decided we had passed up town in the dark and turned around. We had spied a small interesting place earlier, so we drove back to check it out. As we approached, we noticed the place was almost empty so we sent a scout in to see if they were still open. The management offered to stay open for us. We piled out and piled into a positively delightful little place. The food was ample, inexpensive and served with a good humor that lifted us all. We stayed long, drank deep, asked questions. They joked, filled, answered. We tipped them very well. They gave us complimentary cookies: the big chewy fresh baked kind.
Finally, our leader asked a question that would ultimately alter the rest of the trip. “If there is anything that we just can’t miss while we’re in Pagosa Springs, what would it be?”
All of the employees – now visiting and concentrating solely on the visitors from Arkansas – agreed. We had to see the springs and we should see Wolf Creek Pass and Treasure Falls. My heart leaped. I have always liked Treasure Falls and the thought of driving up into the mountains made me ache. We laughed and thanked and shook hands like we were leaving a family reunion, piled into our vehicles and headed back to our hotel and the hot tub.
I had swam, soaked, mellowed and jammied when the discussion in the hall began. Maybe we wouldn’t go to Chaco, maybe we’d go to Treasure Falls and drive up Wolf Creek Pass and just hang around Pagosa Springs. I had already voiced my opinion and hoped. One of the ‘two’ was irritated. I was surprised. Before supper, he seemed interested in the Pass and Falls. Now he was insisting it was an hour hike up to the falls: a mile straight up. I disputed his word as the others discussed. It was maybe a 10 minute easy walk up a good trail. But he’d looked it up on the internet and it was a mile of rough terrain. He went into his room while we all decided to give Chaco up this trip for a day of relaxation and attitude adjustment. He returned with his laptop. “See, here it is. I looked it up.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d done this type of thing. I turned to Louis. “It’s not that far up to the falls, is it?” Louis affirmed that you could see the falls from the highway and it was a short easy trail. The guy had the audacity to shove his computer into my husbands face after shoving it into one of the other men’s face. There was a mild explosion in the hall!
The altercation ended with the ‘two’ parting company with the rest of us after a long emotionally wrenching scene. Apologies unaccepted, we all isolated our hearts and went to bed. Unknown to most of us, it was inevitable. It had been growing, borne of small shattered fragments which had festered into a nasty disagreement.
The hotel had a very good breakfast and we lazied around the next morning. Finally everyone dressed and we headed out – minus two. We descended on a small shop in the old part of Pagosa Springs. The proprietor was happy to see us. She said she would give us a group discount since we were all together and very ‘shoppy’. We thanked her and everyone bought something, though not what she had envisioned, I’m sure. Louis and I looked at rings and found some we really liked that fit well. I’m not sure why we didn’t just go ahead and buy them, but that story has already been told.
After a small lunch at a local coffee shop, we headed up the highway to the pass. The aspens were glorious, and the air invigorating. “Ooh”s and “Look there”s dotted our conversation. Then the others got their first glimpse of Treasure Falls. A wet autumn, early snows and bright sunlight enhanced the ‘always’ beauty of the falls. Doors opened and artists, hungry for color, cameras in hand, scattered out and up the trails. Eventually, most of them convened at the bridge below the falls. We were children, freed from sitting in busses, mesmerized with the air, the water, the sky, the trees. After a lengthy stay, our leader had difficulty getting us back into the vehicles again. “Like herding cats!”
He feared that the Token Old Ladies who decided against a thin air walk up the trail might be offended by the amount of time we’d spent getting our clothing soaked and then dry again while we took many pictures of the enveloping beauty before us. They assured us that the quiet rest while they drew, crocheted, etc., was refreshing and welcomed.
Eventually, we began the winding ascent of the pass once again. Each turn brought new beauty. The falls were seen from several elevations and angles. The snow increased as we gained altitude. Finally we reached the fresh, cold, snowy summit. Again the Arkansas travelers sprung from their vehicles, cameras in hand. Those who had jackets and gloves donned them. Those who didn’t, really didn’t care. It took only a short time before our leader was pelted with a snowball from one of the Token Old Ladies. Within minutes, an out and out snow war was waged. We in Arkansas seldom see snow that deep, that dry, that inviting. We pushed each other into banks and ganged up on the fallen friend only to be pushed and pelted in turn. Eventually we wandered back to our vehicles exhausted: aggressions satisfied, animosities healed, tensions relieved. That night, we would rest well. The next day we would travel on, sad for the loss of two of our number, yet whole.
I stood on my mountain, gazed on a sapphire sky, breathed the thin air and was renewed.
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