Some Scary Roads Have No Guard Rails...That's How It Works Making Art
Sheer drop offs, hairpin turns, breathtaking vistas... and no guard rails for fake safety.
It was a small, local bar in Ouray, Colorado, with music playing from two little speakers on a shelf behind the bar.
There was something vaguely recognizable in the melody, but it was damned hard to hear it over the clanking of glasses, conversation, and the air conditioning blasting frigid air over our heads.
The chorus did it for me.
I finally heard those lines that I knew so well.
“And the Colorado Rocky Mountain high
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky
I know he'd be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly
Rocky Mountain high…”
I smiled big enough that my daughter asked what was funny.
I told her “here I am sitting in a little bar with my youngest daughter now old enough to order in the middle of the mountains with John Denver singing ‘Rocky Mountain High’ in the background.”
I laughed a bit, but it made sense to me.
She smiled with that “OK, dad… whatever” look.
First time I heard that song I was 29 years old in Boulder, heading out for a week hike in the Rockies.
“When he first came to the mountains his life was far away
On the road and hanging by a song
But the string’s already broken and he doesn’t really care
It keeps changing fast and it don’t last for long”
It was the first time I had been to these majestic mountains, so there was a bit of a connection.
The song has been one of those little favorites that bring memories to the fore… and usually makes me smile.
And while I never strayed from my first love of jazz and be-bop, Denver’s song was one of a handful of pop songs that held a special connection. It still does.
And now I am a long way from 27, but the mountains still remain the siren’s call of my youth.
We were staying in Durango, so we had about a two-hour drive back and it was time to head out.
The trip over Red Mountain from Silverton was/is always a treat.
It was the first time on the Million Dollar Highway for my daughter and she was very vocal in her amazement.
“OMG!… This is amazing!”
She had never seen these kinds of mountains before and insisted the soundtrack for Lord of the Rings be our accompaniment.
Yeah, I never tire of Stephen Shore’s masterpiece either.
The wife had some concerns, however.
“Why can’t they put guardrails up” she kept repeating on various hairpin curves and those spots where the depth of the drop was in the hundreds of feet.
Colorado builds some mighty fine and incredible roads, but they ain’t all that big on guard rails.
My reply was simply… “because they are ugly and useless”.
I was pretty pleased with my answer but the look she gave me said otherwise. I explained that guard rails hamper snow removal on some roads, and for others, they trust that people will not go too far over the speed limit and drive off of them, so taking up vital roadway for useless structures actually can make it worse.
“But mostly because they are ugly, useless, and not needed.”
She and my daughter disagreed vehemently and I was outvoted… but stood my ground.
Ugly. Damned ugly.
While we had been chatting it up in the bar, the weather had turned fast.
30 minutes earlier it was sunny with soft clouds, now it was storming and a steady rain was beginning to fall.
I instantly thought of the road back over Red Mountain and its being wet and possibly slippery.
I knew my family would be a little trepidatious about our drive and be even more vocal than on the trip coming up.
I was not worried.
I knew that I could safely navigate the wet roads in the rain without incident. I don’t speed, I watch the traffic, and make good decisions to not put myself at outrageous risk.
And I didn’t need any guard rails to keep me on track.
I knew how to keep the car in the lane. I have practiced it all my life.
I knew the way and was confident in my skills behind the wheel of the mighty Hyundai.
Guardrails are there for a reason, of course.
On the absolute rare occasion where something goes wrong and the car heads for the side, they will supposedly stop the fall. But that is not necessarily true in every case.
Mostly they are there for the soft comfort of faux security.
Safety. Or at least the illusion of safety.
I have found that most of the incredible places I want to go have no guardrails.
Whether it’s a road in Glacier Park, a dirt trail in the Superstitions, or some unknown little two-lane in the middle of Utah.
Spectacular places – absent guardrails.
Guardrails may make us complacent while being aware that they are gone makes us more vigilant.
You have to be unaware or deliberately careless to need a guardrail. Sometimes you are the victim of someone else’s carelessness… and that really is a tragedy.
But the deliberate tracks you make as you twist and turn along the scenic roads and the choices you make in life should not need guardrails. You should know what those limits are and find ways to expand your view without sacrificing your own path.
When we are sure of our ability, seeking the faux security of a guardrail may cause us to miss some spectacular opportunities. A new business. A new relationship. A great little road in the San Juans.
Something we want to create that may be new, ambitious, scary even.
What we need is deliberate attention. Attention to the details, attention to the data, attention to our aesthetic, preferences, goals, and systems.
With practice and confidence, we can make the turns, not fear the hairpins, and really enjoy the ride.
In a car, on a motorcycle, and in everything we do in our creative life.
All photographs are mine.
I am proud to announce I am now being represented by EYB Coach and Brendan Glenwright. If you want to kickstart your business, rejuvenate falling income, or create new channels for your creative work, I can help you do that. Contact Brendan Glenwright or visit www.eybcoach.com
Well written - you make a great argument for aesthetics. I still like guardrails!