I helped my brother celebrate his 30th birthday in Telluride and Ouray, Colorado—traversing via ferrata amidst fantastic autumn beauty.
My brother and I spent most of our pre-adult years on Maryland’s Eastern shore, where the highest elevation was probably the overpasses across the highway where we lived. Since then, both of our hearts have found their home in the mountains. And both of us love traveling to mountain towns we’ve never previously seen. Ouray left its mark on both of us.
I feel like this sign should be what we’re all holding in life. I don’t want to watch others live their dreams. I’m working on my own. On the afternoon of this adventure, we didn’t miss our screens. We were living our own reality show, playing our own sport. When I canceled DirecTV several years ago, the retention rep asked what I was doing that I wasn’t watching TV. I answered, “Whitewater kayaking, blogging, and having meaningful conversations with my friends.” He said, “Man! You’re living the life. I’ll put a note on your account so that others don’t call you.” I hope to spend the rest of my life making new stories instead of watching others do it for me.
I very much enjoy crossing cable bridges! The last time I traversed one was over raging whitewater gushing out of the Conrad Glacier in British Columbia. This one was equally memorable over peaceful water because of the color of the Uncompahgre River. It gets this surreal color from Red Mountain and Lake Como. In other places on the river, the water can appear bright green.
One of my favorite things in life is introducing people I care about (and even strangers) to experiences I love. This bridge is 50 feet into the Ouray via ferrata course, and it immediately tests participants’ comfort.
I found the top and bottom rungs to be a bit too close together vertically in some of the lateral sections. That proximity led to more bicep and lat use than I’ve typically needed in more vertical routes in Italy, Canada, and other states.
You can’t tell from here, but this corner move proved the most technical of any transition on the Ouray Via Ferrata course. I hung out here for 10 or 15 minutes to help Tina and then Timmy through the crux move. There were more physical moves and perches with more exposure, but we all agreed that this one required the most focus.
I didn’t intentionally dress in pseudo-camouflage colors of tan and gray. I could never have blended into the background fully, though. I have the wiggles. I move too much. Ha.
Seeing Tina celebrate her successful traverse put a smile on my face. Guiding people into ecstatic moments fills the tank of my heart. Right after this, I had to pass around her back to the corner to help Timmy through it. We did all of that with our feet on rungs made out of bent rebar scores of feet in the air.
This bend in the route came with no artificial handholds. You just hugged the rock all the way around—while suspended 40+ feet off the water. We all got our pants dusty on this section.
We took turns leading each other through a course none of us had ever seen before this day. Leading an experience helps you see it through different eyes. I tried to give Timmy and Tina a taste of what it is to reach new territory first and then coach others through it. One of my pastors says, “ “It’s easy to tell if you’re a leader. If you turn around, and someone is following you, you’re a leader.” On this day, we were all leaders.
Ta-da! One hand for the fans at home.
I looked forward to this section for hours. The Ouray Via Ferrata map calls it the “sky ladder.” The designers of this course did a good job of creating different jungle gym elements for users to enjoy. This one came with the bonus of a fantastic view.
This is what that bridge looks like when you’re on it.
It’s hard for me not to call Timmy and Tina “kids,” but both turn 30 within the next 60 days. They’re figuring some things out faster or earlier than I did, and I hope I’m helping with that. Being a big brother and an uncle gets better the older I get.
Unlike the Telluride via ferrata which has no gear requirements and nobody checking safety gear, the Ouray Via Ferrata was built and is managed by the City of Ouray. In Telluride, few people wore helmets or used a via ferrata safety lanyard. In Ouray, every participant looked like pros. It was actually comforting, not worrying about foolish teens with Office Max carabiners on shoestring lines.
The Ouray Via Ferrata designers built passing zones into multiple spots on the course with these nifty signs. It’s an interesting dynamic: getting passed by during an adventure. At the same time, everybody clipped into this line was choosing adventure—exploring, pushing their bodies, and enjoying 360º beauty. In life, it’s tempting to focus on our speed, our progress—to compare ourselves with the stories of others. But we all have a choice to embrace the adventure of where we are, who we are, and what we can leave to the world. We can wish other travelers well as they pass us or we pass them. We can enjoy rest when others press. We can enjoy acceleration, while others recharge.
Signs told us not to climb on this rock. But there’s a little boy in me that would rather ask forgiveness than permission.
I’m not always a good influence, because I invited Timmy and Tina onto the same rock. This is the view from the top. Not too shabby.
Both of us wanted to pull over to get a better look. Both of us were trying to figure out how to get down to this river. I like this picture that Tina snapped. Timmy and I have different tastes in memes, in music, and in hobbies; but we see a lot of the world the same way. We both like to look at cultural forces while shoulder to shoulder and process it together. We teach each other every time we’re together. I only get to see him in person two or three times a year, but we always pick up right where we left off.
Every direction you look from the main strips of Telluride and Ouray look different than the view to your side or to your back. We marveled at the diversity of landscapes seen from the same place. I punctuated the strolls along the sidewalks before and after dinner each evening with interjections like “Wow!” and “Unreal!” and “That’s stunning!” I couldn’t soak it up enough. Cameras proved laughably inadequate. So many other pedestrians didn’t seem impressed, didn’t walk with their head on a swivel or even looking up. I hope beauty never grows commonplace for me. I hope I never take mountains for granted.
It’s no secret that sex sells. I’d just never seen it used so blatantly for garden supplies. But I think I’ve found my Halloween costume. Ha.
While on the trip, I got this text from our sister, Faith. This is documentation of her conversation with our nephew who is about to turn four. Backstory: In 2006, I chose my life mission as “to live a life of physical and spiritual adventure in such a way that others are drawn to do the same.” At that time, I didn’t even consider nephews might be part of that audience. I’m thankful for the accountability that the eyes of little people brings. I’m also challenged by a brother who professionally and personally pursued a similar mission.
