550 North

Mountains are good for the soul. So is yoga. In the interest of furthering my own knowledge of the practice I traveled to Colorado to track down Renee, a friend and certified yoga instructor. We met at a local coffee shop where I had spent dozens of collegiate hours writing papers and flirting with the cute barista. Renee came prepared. She walked me through yoga literature and vocabulary that I had never heard of. I asked questions about poses and she demonstrated in the middle of the coffee shop, receiving strange looks from caffeinated patrons. After enough talking we decided to put the information to practice, ditching the coffee shop and heading up to campus, my alma mater. We rolled out our mats in the empty rec center studio and swapped ideas of different poses and flow. The sun set, leaving the studio dim, but neither of us broke concentration to switch the lights on. We chatted about mindfulness and how being present is so helpful in yoga, tennis, and life in general. Afterward, I walked to the rim of campus feeling loose, mindful, and centered. I sat 500 feet above the glowing mountain town watching the residual light of the sun fade behind the dark outline of the mountains. Another great day on Tour de Polkahontas was done.

The next morning Tori and I stared at the marquee on 550 North that read ‘Red Mountain Pass closed due to rock slide’. We had planned on going to Ouray hot springs, but with the pass closed the alternate route would take us twice as long. We debated what to do, and decided to take the detour for the sake of adventure…..and beer. We added gas to the tank and headed west. The trip was not quick, as we stopped twice to marvel at the incredibly gigantic snow-capped mountains that towered above us against the bright blue sky. We’re not in west Texas anymore, Toto. Two hours later we came up on Telluride, a small and cozy ski town nestled in a bowl of the San Juan Mountains. We decided to stop and see what Telluride had to offer. The hippie at the visitor’s center directed us to a hike above town. We set off to find the trailhead but after twenty minutes of walking we figured that we had missed our turn, probably because we couldn’t take our eyes off of the scenery long enough to read street signs. As we walked back toward town, we discussed which of the multi-million dollar condos we would purchase to live in with our Telluride boyfriends and Telluride dogs. Walking to the gondola didn’t take long, and before we knew it we had been swept up 1,800 feet above Telluride to the most incredible view of the trip so far. Coming off of our mountain high, we went in search of a brew. Mousa at the Lost Dollar Saloon hooked us up with two blondes from the Telluride Brewing Company. We sipped our beers at 8,750 feet, almost instantly feeling lightheaded and giggly. Two men, Jim and Mark sat down next to us and the four of us were soon lost in conversation. As it were, Tori’s mom used to work for Jim. Tori and Jim caught up and we all marveled at the randomness of their connection. The men told us about the ‘Free Box’ across the street from the Lost Dollar. This is a cubby where people leave things they no longer need with the idea that their trash might be someone else’s treasure. The local saying is ‘The Free Box provides’. I love this because it plays off of the natural human instinct of reciprocity. Give what you don’t need. Take what you do need. Tori and I walked over to check out the box full of books, clothes, household items, and shoes. I picked up a pair of pants that were just my size. Tori found a shirt and a sweater. When we returned to the bar Jim said he had to leave to meet a friend for sushi and asked us to come along. A few chilly blocks later, we found ourselves in the Cosmopolitan lounge where we met Pete, Nick and Rich. Jim ordered a mountain of sushi for the table, and I finally got my beet and goat cheese salad that I’ve been jonesing for on this trip. Over fish and beets we conversed about our professions, I told the story of Tour de Polkahontas, and Jim told us that his house had recently burnt down, rendering him homeless for the time being.

‘But you know,’ he added, ‘Stuff isn’t home. My house wasn’t home. This is home. Dinner with new friends, old friends, and beautiful mountains; That’s home’. We clinked glasses. I couldn’t agree more.

The gentlemen walked us to our car, practicing our Midwestern accents and making loon calls to the moon all the way.  We exchanged information and promised to call if we ever again found ourselves in close proximity.  Before we left town Tori and I stopped by the Free Box once again. I popped my trunk and pulled out one of my favorite books and a t-shirt from the ranch. I placed them in the cubby, hoping someone would get great use out of each of them.

On the way home I stopped the car to get out and gawk at the glowing mountains. It was a full moon, bright enough to see the ominous peaks in detail. The blue moon radiated off of the snowy mountains, giving them an incandescent appearance. Stars dotted the sky. I looked up to see Orion, the only constant character on this tour other than myself. I struck the Eagle pose that Renee taught me and ‘opened my heart to the world around me’, allowing beauty and appreciation to saturate it once again.  Home. It feels good to be home.