I grew up looking at this peak. It is probably one of the places that I feel most at home as it is woven into series of my memory. Even when I lived elsewhere (mostly all of my adult life), I would return to the peak every time I visited Colorado, no matter the season, no matter the weather. Now that I am living here permanently, I can vist more frequently. It sees thousands of visitors every year, and there’s a part of me that wishes it wouldn’t see the effect of heavy traffic, overuse, and tourism. On the other hand, it is America’s Mountain, so I’m cautiously hopeful that others can find something there that remains with them, as it did with me, long after they descend the mountain. Fun fact: named in honor of Zebulon Pike, he actually never reached the summit.
