Lurching up the Mosquito Pass road at 5 mph in a Jeep this morning, I flashed on how great it is to be back in the high country.
My hosts have only been here a couple of years, but have become super involved with the community. Linda has just published a history of the region and strings for an area newspaper. Tim is a volunteer fire fighter and does computer repair, web site design and desktop publishing.
And they love to go bashing around the rock-strewn dusty mountain roads.
So while Tim manned the fire station, Linda and I drove about 6 miles up Mosquito Pass so she could take photos of an abandoned mine to go with a diabolically complicated water rights story she's written.
It boggles my midwestern mind that so many people are willing to live up these remote, rugged 4WD-only roads, miles from the nearest store, gas station or restaurant. I don't mind solitude, but I don't think I'd want to work so hard for it.
When we were out here a couple of months ago, Maria and I explored a "subdivision" out in South Park. We found a couple of houses for sale that looked very comfortable and had absolutely breath-taking views. But, even in good weather, they're about an hour from the nearest commercial establishment over dirt roads.
I suppose I could look at it as a natural progression from my 30+ years in a major metropolitan area to my present home in a small town of 1,500 people.
But, then, I'd hate to become so habituated to the grandeur of this place that I'd stop being amazed by it.
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