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William Mueffelmann 37°56'41.4"N 107°50'09.4"W
A place that I visit frequently is across from my dad's house on the valley floor. I walk the road almost every day with my dog, who gallops through the high grass looking for small rodents to antagonize. While I'm enjoying the Alpen glow cast upon Ajax to Ballard, the sunset lights up the valley for the last few moments of the evening. But it is ever-changing. This place changes from a hot dusty road in August, to the perfect place to admire the trees in the fall, to a winter paradise in December, to rebirth in the spring. There is always one constant; the mountains. The mountains will always be there no matter if they're coated in snow, yellow from the trees, or green they will always be there.
Memories are more than moments that you remember, they are times in your life that can shape you as a person. They can be looked back on with a sense of gratitude. My first memories are of this place because I have had so many firsts here. My first time skiing with little snowman pattern skis that would strap to my boots, and my parents would pull me along on the cross-country ski tracks. Another first is mountain biking across the valley floor with my little, green bike and green helmet, where it would feel impossible just to go to the river and back. Another core memory is when I was four or five years old, flying kites with my family. The wind blew in hard, and we got stuck in a tornado of dirt. My parents and my sister protected us from the dust. Every time I go to my place, I always rekindle an old memory.
All dogs love this spot. Two of my dog's spirits whose ashes are spread out there, including Gertie’s, are still out there hunting rodents. Gertie loved sticks. She would always grab the biggest, longest, and most awkward stick to walk home with. We would have to extract the stick from her mouth and throw it into a tree. She would wine and jump at the bottom of the tree like a toddler not getting her way. No dog would dislike this place with all the interesting smells and little creatures everywhere.
This is not only my place, though. It does not belong to me. It belongs to everyone and everything that decides to walk this road. People have walked these very steps before there was a road. I imagine a prospector standing here, looking up into the mountains while pondering what riches lurk up there. Could there be gold, silver, or a new precious metal to be found? He would then go to the river and start panning for gold. Maybe he would be wondering, "How could I get up to those peaks? Could I build a town up there? How much snow do these peaks receive if there is still snow in September? And, could I hunt those elk over there?" Would the prospector think what a beautiful place, or would he only think about the money he will make? Maybe there are animal tracks leading into modern-day Telluride. Would he see the future paths, like Tomboy Rd, leading to his future and the future of Telluride?
“Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” The quote is from the 1986 movie “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” It makes me think of my special place. A place where I can admire the alpenglow, walk my dog, revive old memories, and embrace change. I think sometimes we need to slow down and just look to truly enjoy life in the simplest of ways.
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