Mountain Memories

There are some things that I am thankful for, and one of the them is mountains. I thank God for making mountains and for the strength and power that they represent. Crashing waves upon the seashore, roaring waterfalls down a river bed; these are beautiful, but there's something about going up into the clouds and looking down into the valley below. When I think of all of my best memories, so many of them take place on a hill or a mountainside.

My first walk with my friend Kari took place amongst the wild blueberries on the North Shore Mountains. When I was little Mom and Dad would truck Darren, Mitch, TJ and I into the bushes on a wild dirt road and collect mounds and mounds of firewood, all the while looking out for bears, eating homemade sandwiches and drinking Kool-Aid from a dented metal Coleman jug. My first camping trip with Tris was with a bunch of kids at a camp in Valemount; we dragged them up Mount Robson and stayed 2 nights in the mountains. This was where Tris threw me into a glacial lake...I think that he was trying to get my attention and to let me know that he truly loved me. Boys. When we were first married Tris Sr took Laura and Paul, Tris and myself and Jen along the old goldminers' paths in Lillooet. That's the first time I have ever seen it snow on the 1st of July. That's also one of the craziest 4-wheeling trip I've ever been on...the extended Econoline van held up pretty good on those winding, rocky roads.

There's no better drive in the world than through the Rockies, and if you haven't done it you need to, no buts. It's been a long time, but maybe when I return to Canada our family should take a drive through those Rockies and marvel at just how big and astounding those mountains truly are. One of the first long trips Tris and I took as a young married couple was up to the top of BC...at least that's what we thought until we looked at the map. We got as far as Prince George and realized that we were only 1/2 way up the province. The northern part of our province is wild and relatively untamed, and it's covered in mountains. As we drove up through all of the small communities along the way to Quesnel and then PG, we again marvelled at the mountain passes and the histories that surrounded the creation of these passes.

I'm not sure why I've even written about mountains, except that I have missed them. This weekend's trip into Puncak Pass stirred something in me. Being high up gives me life...maybe it's the air, but I think it's the perspective. I love being able to see all of God's creation, some of it taken over by man and other parts still green and lush. It's almost like I'm that much closer to God when I'm up there. I know He doesn't reside in the clouds but there's definately a sense of peace up there that I like to take a piece of and bring down to the valley when I return. This weekend with the Weeda family will definately be added to my list of special mountain memories.

Thanks for reading.