A Season of Friendship and Quiet Confidence Among the Mountains

Good morning, beautiful day. Yesterday, a tiny snowstorm came for a visit. My mountains were nowhere to be found. They were hiding behind the heavy gray clouds.

This morning, as the sun rose and clear blue skies welcomed the day, my beautiful mountains stood in all their glory, reminding me that everything in life is impermanent.

In a few days, I will be on the road again. My thirst to be back on the open road fills me with excitement for the next five months of travel.

It is another beautiful day at the Glass Fusion studio. It is incredible that work feels like the most amazing, fun place to be. Knowing I will be back to play with glass again in November is absolutely exciting. I am already thinking about how to apply the knowledge I am gaining to new projects and designs. It is an incredible gift, how this medium captures my heart.

Many years ago, I opened a fortune cookie that said I would one day live among the mountains. It felt like a winning lottery ticket. As a mountain girl, living among the mountains is undoubtedly everything I could wish for.

So, spending the winter surrounded by the Rocky Mountains is a dream come true. It did not turn out to be the winter I was wishing for, as I had hoped to see the mountains covered in a thick layer of fluffy snow.

The lack of snowfall this year concerns me. The few mornings that I woke up to a winter wonderland were magical and filled my heart with pure joy.

My favorite condition for hiking is in the snow. The stillness that snow creates in nature is a magical joy.

Yes, up in Rocky Mountain National Park at higher elevations, the snow was deep. But I did not always have the opportunity to drive up to the park. I was also very limited, as my car is only front-wheel drive, and many times, access to Bear Lake Road was restricted to all-wheel-drive vehicles.

However, the times I did have the opportunity to immerse myself in the heart of the park’s beauty, I cherish.

Oh, I know very well I will miss this landscape, my work, and my friends. I can already feel that this goodbye will be hard to say. Over the last six months, Estes Park has become a home to me in a way I did not expect.

In a quiet, unexpected way, I have even begun to feel like a local. Perhaps it is the gift of true connection—the kind that comes through friendships like the one I share with my dear friend Nancy, who has spoiled me with her bread-making, her delicious heartfelt meals, and our passion for glass fusion.

Having friends in Boulder is always a wonderful reason to visit this lovely town. Cyndi became a dear friend when she came as a guest to the YMCA. It is always a joy to have the chance to see Diane. Even though this winter we did not get to visit her little cabin in the woods, there is always next winter.

My last month and a half at the Y was full of beautiful visits from dear friends.

I feel very humbled and fortunate to have friends making the effort to come and spend time with me.

Sasha, whom I met in September on the hike to Ice Lake in Silverton, came for a few days of hiking and beautiful, deep conversations.

Caroline, whom I met in my first year on a hike in Arizona, was willing to leave the promising warm weather to spend a few days together. I am sure, to her relief, the spring-like weather during her visit was welcome.

I enjoyed having another opportunity to get to know Caroline. We shared moments of laughter and vulnerable moments that only enriched our friendship.

Of course, I am thrilled that Adi has come for another visit before I hit the road again. It is wonderful to be able to spend and celebrate Ron’s birthday as a family.

Probably the next time I will see my boys will be when I am back at the Y next winter. In the meantime, I take every minute I can have with them.

Betty and I agreed that there is no way we can let our tradition fall apart. We both work hard to maintain a beautiful relationship that began in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, just three weeks into my journey. Since then, we have met every year to share our love of hiking.

Betty came with her friend Jackie. What a delight it was to get to know her.

Ending my time at the YMCA of the Rockies with the last visit from my wonderful and dear friend, Kim Lori, is a true gift.

We are celebrating 39 years of friendship. Our friendship is rooted in many wonderful and meaningful memories. I have spent many holidays at Kim Lori’s house with her beautiful friends, Hara, Amy, and Dawn.

Their visit feels very special. It is like having two pieces of my heart intertwined.

So that is it. It is time to pack my home on wheels and head to Canada.

Thanks to Pearl and her sewing machine, a few thoughtful improvements and small touches will make my life a bit easier. From now on, every morning, as I make my tiny bed in my Vanpartment, I will no longer wrestle with a twin-size sheet that never quite fit my 24” x 5’ mattress—or, as Pearl lovingly calls it, my crib mattress. :))

Thank you, Pearl, for your kind heart and for our friendship. I will miss you.

It has been months now that I have been preparing for my presentation. Along the way, I found small moments of courage, sharing it with friends, recording it, allowing myself to be seen. I will share it with you soon.

I am looking to return to my everyday writing, documenting my adventures and my feelings. You are welcome to join my blog on Substack (Gila’s Nomadic Life: substack.com/@nomadiccolorguru). It is free to read.

To the beautiful people who became my winter community, I want to say thank you to each of you for this meaningful time among the mountains. To Mary Kay, Sharon, Karen, Robert, David, Jack, Leslie, Steve, David, Pearl, Jamie, Randi, Julie, Mike, Nancy, Chris, Felix, Rebecca, Sheila, Alex (I hope I am not missing anyone.)

A special thank you to my wonderful and inspiring boss, Andria, who gave me the freedom to explore glass fusion and showed me what a true leader looks like.

Knowing I will be back in November, surrounded once again by these beautiful and majestic mountains, makes the goodbyes a little softer.

The fear that once filled my heart every time I was about to hit the road no longer occupies my heart.

Last September, while heading back home, I was listening to Pema Chödrön’s recording, “Unconditional Confidence.” As always, I appreciate her wisdom.

The confidence I carry today is far from egotistical. It is rooted in something simple and real—the quiet knowing that when I fall, I will find my way back to my feet.

And that simple knowing gently melts the fear of the uncertainty that once followed me on every journey.

Canada, here I come!