My Colorado: Eastern Horizon

By Matthew Gray

As I planned for my trip to the Pawnee Grasslands in the northeast corner of Colorado, several native Denverites asked the same question, “Why would you go up there?” My response, though slightly cliché, felt genuine: “Because it’s there.” George Mallory, the famed early Everest mountaineer, had it right. There’s something about the mysterious that calls us.

No one I spoke with had ever spent any time in the plains area of our state. I suppose people move to Colorado for the mountains, and they leave the vast stretch of “flatlands” in their rearview mirror. A mistake for sure, as I soon discovered.

So early one morning, I strolled out to my Focus hatchback with a state map, my scenic driving guidebook and a picnic lunch, eager to explore this seemingly untouched land. It was nice to feel like something of a pioneer, with the notion that I could go explore the grasslands and return to the big city of Denver with photos and stories of this wild unknown.

Instead of hopping on the I-76 thoroughfare, I drove through Last Chance, Woodrow and Brush, and then finally turned due west on Highway 14 out of Sterling. After 32 miles, the great Rockies were invisible on the horizon, as the austere beauty of the grasslands filled my vision. In my early childhood, I grew up in the desert. So when someone states, “Oh, there’s nothing out there,” I rarely believe them. And I’m glad I didn’t believe the cynicism this time around. The grasslands are filled with life: meadowlarks and blackbirds singing to the big sky, antelope bounding to safety through a hundred varieties of grasses and shrubs, and the occasional coyote trotting along groves of color-turning cottonwoods.

The Pawnee Buttes, two sandstone monoliths left by an ancient sea, emerge triumphant from this rolling country. Like two sages watching over their vast pastures, the buttes provide a mystical climax for the drive. With the wind whipping down the canyons from the Pawnee Buttes viewpoint, the lone pioneer pauses for a moment of solitude in this “nothingness.”

As I returned to Highway 14, the Rocky Mountains reappeared on the skyline. Though I know I will spend the majority of my outdoor days in these mountains, the buttes and their wild grassland landscape will surely urge me back to the serenity of Colorado’s eastern horizon.

Your Turn
Do you have a special memory or humorous story about living in Colorado? EnCompass is looking for original essays (sorry, no fiction or poetry) that capture the uniqueness of our state. Payment is $60 upon publication. Entries must be 350-450 words. Please include your mailing address for payment, and a daytime phone number. Email your story to the managing editor, Carrie Patrick, at cpatrick@colorado.aaa.com.

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