Born and raised in the Midwest, for many years my only exposure to mountainous terrain was limited to paintings, drawings, photographs and films: things I saw in books or perhaps on television.
Later, crisscrossing the country during my career in corporate America, that changed - but I still didn't live anywhere near mountains. Until a job relocation changed my trajectory, I'd planned to remain in the Chicago area, which would have cemented my standing as a flatlander.
In fairness, Illinois is not pancake-flat (I'm looking at you, Florida). Especially in the northwest part of the Land of Lincoln, you'll find lovely rolling hills created by retreating glaciers. That said, nobody will ever mistake those hills for mountains.
Is it because I'm a product of the Great Plains that I'm so drawn to mountains?
Maybe, but they stopped being new to me a long time ago; I've now spent nearly half my life living in proximity to mountain ranges.
Without a doubt, the attraction has to do with their awe-inspiring, majestic grandeur, not to mention the variety of landscapes, vegetation and wildlife which can be found in the various mountain climate zones.
In the presence of mountains, I experience awe. Tranquility. Inspiration. A sense of wonder.
My favorite campground in Grand Teton National Park is near Signal Mountain on the shore of Jackson Lake, directly across from Mount Moran. There's something special about dropping off to sleep in the company of such a massive, silent sentinel.
In the mountains, I feel small. Not insignificant - I believe each of us has significance - but very small. This is not a bad thing. Rather, the feeling is liberating. Uplifting.
There is something in that scale that encourages consideration of the enormity, the magnitude, and the spectacle of nature. Of the earth. It changes my perspective. The world seems larger, yet I feel more connected to it.
Whatever troubles, cares, concerns or distractions I brought with me recede into the background. In that context, they are inconsequential. My mind clears.
Extraordinary.
As for the great "east versus west" debate, I remain neutral. The peaks don't need to be the highest or the most jagged to work their magic. I'm just as happy in the Whites of New Hampshire or the Blue Ridge of the mid-south as I am in Alaska's Wrangells or in the Tetons.
Wherever they may be, mountains make me feel small, which is wonderful.
You are not in the mountains. The mountains are in you.
~John Muir
In Local News
Yellowstone had barely opened for the season before the first reported "stupid person" incident. A tourist from Florida got too close to one of the bison at Lake Village (on Yellowstone Lake) two weeks ago and was gored.
These are wild animals; the national parks are not theme parks.
Bison may look as though they are slow, lumbering animals, but looks are deceiving. They can run at speeds of up to 35 miles per hour and they can jump over fences. Bison can hurt you if they want to.
Much of the time, they're incredibly tolerant of people who get too close - but not always.
Give them their space.
About the Photographs
Top: The setting sun just before it sinks behind the Northern Teton Range.
Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming
Bottom: Autumn paints Mount Chocorua in fiery hues
Tamworth, New Hampshire