Yesterday, after work, I rode my motorcycle into Rocky Mountain National Park. There was hardly a soul around. I've been there literally hundreds of times, both as a tour guide and a visitor. It's a magical space, especially in the late evenings. The sun sets to the west over peaks of 13,000 feet or more. When I reached about 8,000 feet in elevation, I stopped to put on an additional layer. Yeah, on the motorcycle. It's a little chilly up there. I took a few photos and then I just took a breath. I looked at the mountain range in front of me and just listened. Over the years, I've learned the importance of that. Stopping to take a look. Stopping just to take a deep breath. Silence. Except for the sounds of a slight breeze in the trees last night. From there, I rode just a couple of miles further west down into what's called the Endo Valley. Deep into a pine and aspen tree forest. And I stopped once again. This time by what's called the Fall River, which runs down through the valley. It runs really slowly this time of year. It was there by the river when suddenly a local started yelling at me with this loud, screeching voice. Well, it was a tiny Albert squirrel. Probably a one-pounder. But he was telling me to get my motorcycle off of his lawn. Yes, the yelling and screaming from that little squirrel definitely broke the silence. But the truth is I wasn't there for silence. No, I wanted to hear from my mom and your mom, Mother Nature. And that little squirrel's part of it. So is the stream. So maybe it's the screaming little squirrel, maybe it's the bugling elk, or maybe it's just a slight breeze blowing through the forest. When I lead tours into the national park with others, I encourage my guest to experience what at first appears to be silence, and they say, Wow, it's so quiet. Then after a moment, I encourage them to let their ears adjust. In the same way that we let our eyes adjust at night, when we can finally really see the stars, and then they start to hear the forest. They too start to hear from Mother Nature. They hear the trees, the river, the squirrels. As I love to spend time in nature, it's most gratifying when I ride my motorcycle to these spaces, feeling the temperature drop as I ride my bike and climb higher and higher into the Rocky Mountains. And it's after I turn off my bike, take off my helmet, take a deep breath. Yeah, it's then and there, while listening, watching, connecting with Mother Nature. That's when I appreciate how wonderful God's creation is. And today, with a government shutdown going on, where the only park protectors around are unpaid volunteers, it's now that I'm reminded how important it is that we protect Mother Nature for our children and our grandchildren and our great-grandchildren. And that's exactly what I think the music of Marvin Gay and John Denver, just to name a couple, some of those songs are just about that. Let's you and I talk about it. Thank you for joining me today. Recorded in beautiful Loveland, Colorado, welcome to Peace Love Moto, the podcast for motorcyclists seeking that peaceful, easy feeling as we cruise through this life together. Are you ready? Let's go. It's the wind, the scent of the trees, and the smell of a hayfield that's just been cut as you ride by. Maybe the vastness of the landscape unfolding right in front of you. It strips away the distractions and brings us face to face with the world we live in. Away from the computer screens. We seek those winding roads through forests, through sweeping vistas of mountain passes, or maybe it's just the raw beauty of a desert, like some of us have experienced through Monument Valley or the Mojave Desert. We feel part of it all. When we're observing it from the seat of a motorcycle, it's just different than from a car, or especially from a train or a plane. Vastly different. But sometimes as we ride, we see things that give us pause. The clear-cut forest or the plastic debris on the side of the road or the hazy skies over a big city. It's this stark reminder that our beloved Mother Nature is under threat around the world. And it brings to mind for me a timeless plea from Marvin Gay. I think it's a message and a plea for all of us that we have to watch out for and protect our Mother Nature. Mercy, mercy me. Old things ain't what they used to be. Those lyrics recorded in the 1970s, I think resonate even more powerfully today. As I've flown many times for business between Denver and Dallas, I see it. Once approaching the Dallas Fort Worth area, looking down from the plain, from miles and miles and miles, endless roads, houses, businesses, and traffic. No original old-growth trees to be found in any direction. I wonder to myself sometimes as I look down what it would have looked like prior to, say, the westward expansion. From what I understand, these lands would have been just covered with trees, with creeks running through them and wildlife all over the place. We see, especially from the air, this delicate balance of the ecosystem that's been disrupted and can probably never be fixed again. And we can't help but feel this bit of sadness, a sense of loss, something we won't have back again. But like with the national parks, we have a chance. We just have to keep them safe. While riding a motorcycle takes us out of the house and into the wind and away from city life sometimes, which is certainly a joy for us, I think we have to be reminded too of the actual impact that we may be making. Personally, I think a motorcycle that's too loud or a rider that's blaring their onboard stereo leaves a mark. Maybe not a permanent one, but it certainly makes an impact on folks on the road or even in their homes who hear the noise from the outside. I know from firsthand experience when I'm leading a tour in Rocky Mountain National Park and my guests are experiencing that moment of silence, maybe for the first time, as I was describing earlier. Ever so often, a loud motorcycle can be heard literally miles away with the echoes ringing out through the canyon. When that happens, I literally apologize to my guests. I tell them that I too am a motorcycle rider, but I don't ride a loud one. And I have a lot of respect for Mother Nature and for them. So yeah, there's that. It's a love that truly comes alive when you're out there. Just you and your bike, surrounded by Mother Nature's Majesty. Just like last evening in the national park, it's there that I feel, I don't know, very small compared to those 13,000-foot mountains and that deep, deep forest. I'm very small and very overwhelmed at what surrounds me. Even that tiny little squirrel who is wanting to have a conversation with me. Isn't he wonderful? That's God's creation. I truly believe that. And that feeling, that deep connection, is perfectly captured from another artist in an iconic song. John Denver's Rocky Mountain High. And that's it, isn't it? Sums it up quite well. That almost overwhelming emotion of being dwarfed by nature's grandeur, yet utterly at home. That's exactly how I felt last night. Personally, I'm so much more comfortable on a mountaintop or in the woods than I am in a big city. So maybe it's that feeling we chase on our motorcycles. It's the reason we spend hours planning routes to scenic overlooks, to remote canyons, to open deserts, to the heart of our national parks. Just so that you know, this podcast is a proud financial supporter of the National Parks Foundation. This love for the open road and the natural beauty that it reveals isn't just about personal enjoyment, as you know. I think that we should be inspired to protect what we cherish, to advocate for conservation, to practice responsible riding, to leave no trace, and even to ride without disturbing others if we can. Every single one of us, every rider has the potential to be a motorcycle ambassador for the environment. So as we wrap up today, I want to leave you with this thought. Our motorcycles are more than just machines. Maybe too, they're tools to help us understand the world around us to get us outside to comprehend Mother Nature's amazing beauty. So until next time, thank you very much for listening and telling your friends if you like it. Till we visit again.