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Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
© 2004
Mountain Wedding

“Why would anyone want to get married up here?” I asked as we drove up another steep mountain road.

“You’ll see.”

“Oh. No I won’t. Why drive up to ten thousand feet where it’ll be cold in June. And muddy. And it could rain. And it might even snow so I have to wear heavy boots. It doesn’t sound like fun to me.”

We were driving up the back of Aspen Mountain where Joe and Cleo had planned their outdoor wedding. It was about a half hour drive up unpaved roads from the center of Aspen, Colorado. I felt hot and itchy all over. I removed my heavy winter coat. Imagine needing that in the summer time. Who would have ever thought?

We drove past a grove of hundred-year-old Aspen trees.

“Stop. Please? I want to take a picture.”

Cool-guy laughed. “Save your digital space. This is nothing compared to the top.”

We passed many old, warn down miners’ cabins tucked into the hillside.

“They’re so cute.” I said. “I mean. If you wanted to live all by yourself in the middle of nowhere.”

“Don’t be fooled. The people living out here have it all figured out.” Cool-guy insisted. “They have wood burning hot tubs and satellite televisions that run on generators. This isn’t as Hillbilly as you keep thinking. This is expensive country living.”

I reconsidered living up here without modern conveniences. Sure. They fudged the electricity and they could always dig a well to get water. Great. They had the essentials.

But. Bears pushing in their doors looking for food? And. Who would take you to the hospital if you broke your leg? Ok. Even worse… what if you got a midnight craving for ice-cream? Yeah. No. You’d have to plan your ice-cream cravings very carefully if you lived up here. Especially in the winter when the only way to get to town was to ride a snowmobile over the snow drifts.

We passed a herd of twenty elk grazing in a meadow covered with yellow and white wildflowers. The road got steeper and the curves multiplied. I wasn’t carsick. Not yet. This seemed like a ridiculously long route to get to a wedding.

Cool-guy pulled the truck over on an unmarked stretch of road. He announced we were there, which I found suspect because we didn’t appear to be anywhere in particular. He parked along the dirt road, and we started walking west. Man. It was a good thing he had insisted I wore my hiking boots. We scrambled over several embankments before we ended up on the muddy road that would lead us down to the tent.

I stopped when I saw the first view. Imagine someone finding the most beautiful setting on earth and setting a tent up smack in the middle of it. This wasn’t a wedding center: this was a flat place on the mountain. The meadow surrounding the tent was covered with yellow and blue wildflowers. And there was a three hundred sixty degree view of the surrounding back country mountain ranges which Joe and Cleo had hiked up and skied down a number of times.

“This is magnificent.” I whispered.

“Even without paved roads?”

We hiked down the muddy road to the tent, kicking little balls of ice out of the way. Luckily the hail storm had started and stopped before we got there. Hopefully the sun would stick around for a while.

“You mean….” I hadn’t thought about it. “They put in porta potties just for this?”

“Joe didn’t think you would want to drive all the way back to town in case you had to go.”

I got a hop in my heavy, booted step. So what if they wanted to have a wedding in the middle of nowhere. At least they were doing it with class, right?

The caterers were busy preparing the appetizers and the sit down dinner in the cook tent. The main tent had clear sides on it so even if you were inside, you could still enjoy the meadow and mountain views. We headed over to the open bar.

I turned to Cool-guy. “They have heaters in the tent! And an open bar? Way up here?” I threw my parka under a table.

He laughed and pointed to a far corner. “Something tells me you might get more excited about the oxygen bar, Missy.”

“No way.” I had never used an oxygen bar before. Well. Not outside a hospital. Later I would strap a face mask on and someone would turn a crank. I would inhale the purest form of air available and feel the invisible cobwebs in my head melt away.

Oh. Man. Was I ever comforted by how many women were showing up in hiking boots.

“See.” Cool-guy said. “Aspen women are smart. They know how to dress for a mountain wedding.

My comfort melted as I watched those well planned women. One at a time they threw their boots into bags and brought out heels.

“Real shoes?” I drooled. “No fair. So not fair. You didn’t tell me I could bring my heels. You said this was a hiking-boot-wedding.”

“You’ll be glad when it starts to snow and you’re toasty warm.”

“Real women can be warm in heels.” I lied.

“Come on.” Cool-guy checked the sky. It was covered in thick, dark clouds. But as if by some divine plan, a steady beam of sun continued to shine down on our meadow. “They need to get started. The rain won’t hold out for long.” We went outside to enjoy the surprise sunshine, reunite with old friends, and get seats.

Joe is one of Cool-guy’s oldest friends. They lived in neighboring cabins on Aspen Mountain years ago. Joe, a master woodworker, carved the totem pole that sits in Cool-guy’s garden. I got to meet him and Cleo several months ago when we all went cross country skiing together.

But skiing with them in the dead of winter was nothing compared to watching their wedding ceremony where their dog sat proudly between them, the true master of ceremonies. Joe and Cleo passed a tissue back and forth to wipe away their tears.

They had lived in the same town for over twenty years but never met. They knew all the same people but were never at the same parties. When they finally met, there was an instant attraction. The confirmed bachelor was suddenly driving his girlfriend to and from work, because he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could. He didn’t hesitate about changing his reputation. (His friends teased that he must not have a ‘C’ chromosome. C for commitment.) He had found something he wanted, and he was more than willing to work towards it.

And he was more serious about the ceremony itself than anyone thought he would be. There had been rumors that he, ever the jokester, was going to dress in a tuxedo and arrive on a CAT, a vehicle with large tracks instead of wheels. He didn’t. He dressed comfortably in a white, un-tucked shirt and black slacks. They both lit candles and read readings about love and commitment. She got a number of extra kisses from him during the ceremony, but we weren’t sure if they were planned or spontaneous. The minister wouldn’t say.

When the ceremony was over they got a standing ovation. Everyone approved of the match, the sunshine that was just giving way to rain, the amazing location, and the dog that looked as if he had just won the lottery.

His sister made and served the amazing cheesecake. Her father started the toasts. Her mother sang, “It had to be you.” His friends gave wild toasts. Her friends cried a lot. Joe kept saying he needed to go to the bathroom, weren’t the toasts over yet? Come on.

The band knew how to sing and how to play. The dance floor was filled with guests dancing in winter coats. The day had quickly turned to a bitter, cold gray. Dancing was the best way to keep warm until the heaters could warm up the tent.

It was the first time Cool-guy and I had danced together in our eleven month relationship. “Honey. You can dance?” We both said. We slowed. We fast. We got close.

I might have danced all night. But. Well. In case you were wondering. Hiking boots are best left for hiking.

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