Hopping off the concrete path, a veer to the left leads into a pine tree lined river bank. Crossing paths with a squirrel scuttling about above with a pine cone stuffed in their mouth—both of us stop in our tracks to make curious eye contact. A few more steps ahead sits this thoughtfully angled bench facing the point where the mountains meet. As the Sun rises up the azure sky, a warm glow tints the snow-capped Rockies. Every now and then, the emerald river brings with it slices of ice quietly drifting by. Once or twice a small plane speeds across the valley, dragging trails of white in the atmosphere. Far into the distance and way up high, a pair of birds circle, two silhouettes swirling in and out of view.