Evidently, I am “in love with the mountains,” according to a friend’s recent description of me to her son after a trip to British Columbia. I mean… I’d prefer to be known for being in love with Jesus—or at the very least my husband (still waiting for him to make himself known!)—but I can’t exactly argue with her. My heart rate does tend to spike anytime I catch even the smallest glimpse of snow-capped peaks.

As we ascended from sea to sky on the gondola, I found myself completely overwhelmed—in the best way. I didn’t know where to look. Everywhere I turned, there was something breathtaking demanding my attention: impossibly rich blues and greens, towering trees clinging to rocky cliffs, lakes and streams that looked like they had been filtered by Heaven itself… and yes, even a couple of bears, just casually existing like it was no big deal. But somewhere between awe and my third failed attempt to “get the shot,” I realized something: my view was being interrupted by the plexiglass of the gondola.

Now, I’ve mentioned before my recent PBS habit (Outside: Beyond the Lens has me fully committed at this point), so I’ll spare you a full recap. But in one episode, host Jeff Aiello talks about the importance of experiencing places Beyond Windshield Glass. He explains that while their team films these incredible locations striving to capture what can only be felt when you step out and actually enter the space, it’s important for them to have a personal interaction with the location too. Because as lovely as a view is from a car—or a gondola—it’s still filtered.

And that hit me. Because yes, you can admire creation through glass. You can appreciate it from a distance, snap a photo, and move on. But it’s not the same as standing in it, walking through it, breathing it in. For me, especially in the mountains, when I slow down and travel at what I like to call God Speed (which is noticeably slower than my usual “I have a schedule” pace), I experience my Creator in a completely different way.

It’s funny—every author who writes about flourishing eventually pulls out a travel metaphor. “Enjoy the journey.” “Savor the ordinary moments.” “Stop and smell the roses.” All classics. And maybe they get overused… but there’s a reason they stick. God didn’t create a dull, flat, black-and-white world. He created this—a planet so full of variety and beauty that we’ll never fully see it all. Snow-capped peaks, sandy beaches, dense forests, open plains… it’s all abundance, and it’s all intentional. It’s not just there to be observed; it’s there to be experienced Beyond Windshield Glass. Which, for the record, does not stop me from trying to capture it in a photograph anyway. Let’s not get unrealistic.

And while I am deeply grateful for the artists who bring these places into my living room—people like the team at Outside or photographers like Shawn Pilkington, who somehow manages to make me feel like I’m having a staring contest with a North American owl—I’m also aware of the limitations. As incredible as their work is, I’m still experiencing it from behind a screen… which is really just another version of Windshield Glass. If I’m being honest, there are moments I get a little jealous of what I imagine their firsthand experiences must be.

I’m not sure if this wanderlust was something I was born with or something that developed over years of traveling in a camper for family vacations. But I do know this: I have never once regretted the time or resources spent on traveling. Whether it was Racing to Roam to new states, chaperoning students across the map, or just finding my way to the next trailhead, every experience—every place, every person—has been worth it.

And the list isn’t getting any shorter. Thankfully, when the budget says, “let’s stay home,” there’s always a steady stream of travel documentaries to keep the dream alive. In those moments, I’m usually just one episode away from convincing myself that I clearly need a private plane. It feels like a reasonable conclusion at the time.

But until that financial miracle arrives—or my legs decide they’re done cooperating—I’ll keep stepping outside when I can. I’ll keep chasing the views, even if my photos never quite do them justice. And I’ll keep thanking God for creating a world this beautiful… one that refuses to be fully experienced from Behind the Windshield Glass.

Reference:

Aiello, J. (Host). (2024). “Scotland Part 1.” Outside: Behind the lens. Season 4, episode 9. PBS. https://www.pbs.org/show/outside-beyond-lens/