Not far from where I had parked, I spotted a sign:
Independence Pass
Elevation 12,095 Feet
Continental Divide
I had never stood on higher ground.
To the north, a broad bank of brilliant aspen topped a ridge, shocking yellow against blue-white sky. To the south and west, the golden valley stretched away. To the east, a crowd had gathered. At first, I thought they had been watching me drive up the pass. But they were facing away from me off an overlook of some sort.
I had ascended two miles high into the mountains, risking life and limb and sanity. What Oracle would speak to me? What Guru would enlighten me? What Revelation would be granted me?
Bernard urged me on. I pushed through the crowd, threading my way past those who had preceded me to the edge. Grasping the railing, I peered out from the top of Independence Pass. There were no words for what I saw. No words. So instead, out loud, I laughed.
I saw mountains. Mountains as far as I could see. Mountains everywhere. All mountains. Nothing but mountains.
I looked up to the bright blue heavens and whispered in honest appreciation:
Very Funny.
Back down by the car, Bernard posed on the sign for Independence Pass. I stepped back to take a picture. How cute, said a girl. Buddha smiles, was my thought.
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