The Dry Asphalt
37.9546° N, 107.9020° W
9,078 feet
37.9546° N, 107.9020° W
9,078 feet
Soren Scoville
The Dry Asphalt
There are hundreds of interesting places around the town of Telluride, Colorado. For me, the airport is one of those places. A place where I find peace and moments of joy, and a place where I can recharge. I often go there and see many people, some I know, many I don’t, but I always enjoy my time there. Along with so many planes and people that have yet to visit.
As I watch and see the sunset as a plane is landing, I think about the expeditions people go on and where they are coming from. I have several vivid memories of flying in and out of Telluride, but there is one that I will never forget. One spring day, right after jumping into spring break with my classmates after the last day of Ski PE, we drove up to the airport to begin our trip to Italy. We had just taken off, and my dad did something out of his “detail-originated plan.” He flew left, right over the ski resort. He continued to fly over Palmyra Peak, where he dipped the wing for us to say our final goodbyes to the cold. This stuck with me because I know that only a few people have experienced such an amazing thing. However, I know I am not the only one who is exhilarated by the feeling of dipping the wing, though.
Duke Anderson, a wealthy pilot pioneer from Weston Massachusetts, spent a spring in Telluride, Colorado in search of developing one of the world's highest elevated airports. Anderson spent two months searching for a plateau to build a risky runway that could potentially frightin pilots as they attempt to land. However, Anderson was determined. After hiking for nearly 11 hours, Anderson found a mesa, a perfect fit to build an airport. Duke spent weeks designing, drawing, and executing the plans. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to see his genius plan come to fruition, as he passed just four short years after his visit to Telluride. Although Duke never saw the final product, he was able to create a plan that would soon fulfill pilots and passengers like me with an immense amount of joy. It's makes me want to go up to the airport, and sit and enjoy. Soon enough, I'm up high perched up on a hill.
I watch the airport with its windsock flying like an eagle, the dry asphalt melting away in the heat. The orange sun dropping over the runway. An aircraft lands on runway 27 with a soft turbine engine as the only noise and the peace of the world around me. I think of Duke Anderson seeing his vision for a runway and of all those pilots who have landed here, delighted. I whisper under my breath, “This is my place.”