COMING HOME TO TELLURIDE

15 Feb COMING HOME TO TELLURIDE

Susan and I arrived home last Monday evening. Despite dire weather forecasts, the trip from Denver was relatively uneventful: mostly dry roads, compact snow and low visibility across McClure Pass, a pleasant stop at Cottonwood Ranch and Kennel to visit Ted and Vanessa (and pick up Gina the Dog, who had been at Cottonwood since the end of August), a few miles of whiteout in snow and blowing snow around Ridgway.

We had been in New Jersey for most of the time from late September until last Friday, February 8, had driven from Hackensack, NJ to Denver in three days to beat the winter storm that pounded the Northeast last weekend, spent one night at our place in Denver, then headed home for Telluride.

We arrived physically beat, unsure of what our normal life in Telluride would even feel like with everything that has happened in our family in the past ten months. After so long did we even belong here anymore? We fought the fatigue, unpacked the car, had a bite to eat from remainders in the freezer, finally fell into bed around midnight.

Top of Twelve, Telluride

Tuesday dawned cold and clear. I got out fairly early to walk Gina, still tired and just able to appreciate the sun lighting the tops of the peaks at the end of the valley. That afternoon we took a snowshoe hike up into the hills behind Hillside, tiring easily, and found a rock to sit in the sun and just absorb the beauty of the new snow and the cross-country trails on the valley floor in front of us. Homecoming started in those quiet moments. Neither of us even spoke; we just soaked in the sun and the beauty. Even restless Gina was content to sit with us and enjoy our stroking.

I did get out to ski for a short while on Wednesday afternoon, enjoyed the wide territorial view to the West from Upper See Forever, as well as the more dramatic depths of the Bear Creek Canyon on my right. At sunset we both got out for a short, quick loop on the valley floor, watched all the snow-capped peaks surrounding us turn to gold.

A hike with the dog up Mill Creek Road and back to the valley on an elk trail on Thursday made me re-appreciate how even the simplest things are the essence of life in our valley.

Which brings me to today. I was up and out the door before 0730 to join a group of contributors to the Telluride Foundation for First Tracks. First Tracks is scheduled four or five mornings a season, and is an opportunity to see and ski the mountain before it wakes up to another day of skiing. Telluride is not famous for huge crowds but to see the freshly groomed runs in the cold early light is magical. To top it all off many of our friends were on mountain with me, friends I hadn’t seen in nearly a year in most cases. I won’t say my skiing skills were top-drawer, but between friends and skiing on this mountain that I love it just didn’t matter: I was home, the place where my heart lives.