Each of the thousand sunsets I’ve seen reflected on the same old granite mountain captures my heart. A primal urge must kick in, and I’m helpless in the face of this sunset’s ever-changing, yet eternal beauty. I can’t wait for the color shift to happen. The mountain first turns from full light, to gold, to pink, to gray, and back to pink and gold again during the afterglow.
For 25 years, we have packed our food, books, and clothes and headed for Idyllwild in a race to catch the sunset before our evening meal. Two hours away by car is The Sunset, My Sunset. It’s rarely easy to leave work early if I’m going out of town. Last minute customers and staff questions, and my own obsessions with things being “right,” lead to inevitable delays, but I’m always eager to get on the road. Once packed and driving, arrival time is mostly in the hands of the gods. Even catching the afterglow is ok if the traffic is bad or the gods veto my full sunset plan.
My incessant quest for beauty leads me all over the globe. I dream, plan and seek. I am reminded of our oft-repeated 7-1/2 hour dash to Zion National Park, timed to miss LA/Riverside rush hour traffic, Las Vegas traffic, and catch a late lunch at the Lodge. I love the quest, the challenge, but even more, the shocking beauty of each of those special places we have come to love.
