You may think that this photo is about the woman riding her bike. And you’re right. That’s Jodi. She’s overcome great obstacles in her life to become a strong, beautiful, intelligent, kind, hard-working woman.
You might think that this photo is about mountain biking. That’s true. Mountain biking to me is therapy, an activity that has helped me to grow, laugh, cry, sigh, and experience awe in so many ways and places. Some of my best experiences in Colorado are thanks to exploring on my bike – with my friends, my children, and at events. I’ve watched storms roll in down the canyon, seen herds of Bighorn sheep grazing on steep slopes, and found solace on singletrack trails in the mountains.
You might also think that this photo is about the trail. It is. The trail is Dreamweaver, one of 22 miles of trail established at the Royal Gorge Park in Cañon City, Colorado. It’s a trail that we watched being built after years of advocacy and diligent planning and funding. It’s a trail that prompts you to sing the 1975 hit of the same name while you’re riding – wind in your hair and view of the Sangres looming on the horizon.
But this photo is really about the trees. They are the remains of two beautiful piñons, one of the predominant tree types in our high mountain desert region. In June of 2013, we watched in fear as the Royal Gorge Fire scorched hundreds of acres of land near our homes and businesses in Cañon City. It burned several buildings at the Royal Gorge Bridge & Park but left the bridge itself still standing. As the flames traveled closer to our community, fueled by high winds and dry conditions, we held our breath. Firefighters were able to put it out, and in the months afterward, we surveyed the changed landscape. Black and charred, the barren topography was startling and new. After the first rain, ash and debris cascaded into the Arkansas River, turning the normally clear water a deep black. Storms scoured the landscape and washed it clean. In subsequent years, developing trails allowed access to previously inaccessible areas, including this spot, which bisected these two pale, majestic reminders of the fire’s power. As sentinels on the hill, they stood as a reminder and a stunning representation of what had been.
Land endures so much in Colorado – the passage of time, human development, the migration of wildlife, the ebb and flow of civilization as we find minerals and agricultural riches, changing climates, fire. The land at the Royal Gorge was changed by the fire – its hillsides stripped of oak and juniper. Nevertheless, from the ash, the native vegetation returned and greenery was restored. Groups in the area even planted small saplings among the ghostly trunks – like the ones in this photo – to help stabilize the soil and encourage regrowth.
This photo was taken in 2017 when the land had weathered four summers after the fire – growing, changing, and regenerating. We knew that these two beautiful trees would eventually fall. This past winter, they did. Riding past them for the first time lying prose on the ground, branches wrenched and broken, we paused. It was a reminder that life moves forward. Things grow, they burn, they fall, they return. The land teaches us that life is transient, but it is also incredibly beautiful. As it grows, we grow. As it changes, we change. Tennyson wrote, “I am part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch…”, and though that arch may fall, our memories of it – and the connection with the land on which it stood - will never be lost.
ROYAL GORGE TRAILS, CAÑON CITY, COLORADO
Photo Credit: Ashlee Sack
