Many of my most vivid memories of living on the earth are about mountains. I was born at five thousand feet at the base of the Wasatch beneath peaks where you could see campfires and snow pack in early summer. As a teenager we dared to swim in the icy water of Pineview on a moonlit winter night. The snowy peaks all around were a magical sight.
Later I rode the Jemez where spirits are strong and mastered the last switchbacks of the Crest road. I visited the Plains of San Agustin where whispers from stars are captured. The back roads between Grass Valley and Truckee are in my memory as are the peaks above Palm Springs.
These days I spend as much time as possible in the Chisos. The drive from hot desert floor to the cool air of the basin is always good. Sometimes the peaks make their own weather. They Appear out of heavy ground fog or with tops obscured by storms or adorned by a halo of lenticular clouds. I feel at home when I can see the dark blue high altitude sky with mountains close by.