narnia

Fresh off my fly-fishing reverie, I'm full of nostalgia these days for a little town tucked in the San Juan mountain range of the Rockies, which I have affectionately named "Narnia." Truthfully it's difficult for me to decipher what part of the magic I attribute to that place belongs to the location itself and what part is due to the emotional ties two (and soon to be three) generations of my family have to it. I think somehow the magic is 100% both.


After landing in a 10-row puddle-jumper, one glance out the window leaves no doubt that God generously imbued Durango, Colorado, with more than its fair share of charm. One of the last remnants of that time when cowboys ruled and there was room for cattle to roam, historic main street feels like a living, breathing movie set. Except now instead of spurs and ten gallon hats, it's inhabitants don Keen footwear and Smartwool underlayers. Indeed Durango has established itself as a world-class hub for mountain biking, kayaking and a number of other outdoor "activities." The word "activities" is in quotes because for full-timers, the great outdoors serve as more of an office than a hobby. Folks here train year-round for the opportunity to test their minds and bodies in the oxygen-depleted upper elevations. Indeed, you may get your butt kicked by a local for implying that a rafting or kayaking run down the famed Animas must be a "nice past-time."

It's odd at times for a visitor like myself to cope with both the passion and elitisim of those lucky enough to call Durango home. They seem to similtaneously want you to fall in love with their slice of paradise, but just not enough to stay. Indeed it's a common joke at neighborhood watering holes that no one wants the town to get any bigger--funny thing is everyone making the joke is a recent transplant.


There's folk music and film festivals, vineyards and deserts, authentic hot springs, Native American dwellings, renowned fly-fishing and horseback riding, all within a short jaunt of enchanting main street. Not to mention fabulous skiing, de-lish food and an annual cowboy gathering that reminds Durango of her roots. There's even a historic train which traverses the mountain passes between Durango and Silverton, CO. Sooooo much to do, soooo little time!! And hence why even after many years of visits, there's always something fresh to explore upon our return.


Once B and I relocated to the East Coast and the insane pace of the "Beltway of Power," Durango began to take on a hazzy, dream-like quality to me. With each first step off the prop plane, it felt more and more of a departure from the life I saw stepping out my front door every morning. I believe it was one of our more recent visits that I began to simply call Durango, "Narnia." Stepping off the plane is for me stepping out of the wardrobe, and I joke with my parents now that I always anticipate seeing Mr. Tumnus when I enter the terminal, sent perhaps in their stead. Homemade goodies from the bakery called "Bread" are my turkish delights and steps away from my parents home, hiking along a meandering stream and back into "The Draw" where elk herds gather, never fails to bring me closer to Aslan.


If I could I would bring everyone I know to Durango, so fully confidant am I of it's beauty and restorative powers. If ever you get a chance, go. Seriously, don't think too long or too hard, just go. And if Durango isn't doable, I hope your explorations bring you to another Narnia. I've come to believe we all need one. We all need a place where there's enough room for our hearts to expand, enough clean air to really breathe and enough beauty to remind us there's more to our stories than the daily grind.