Give Me Shelter

Well, our long-awaited vacation has finally arrived, and we are thrilled to have escaped to the West. We landed in Denver on Saturday evening, enjoyed a stroll around Larimer Square (cute but smaller than expected), bought an enormous amount of provisions, and settled down for a good night’s rest before our first big day. Our first impression of Denver is mostly a shock at how new everything is. Around Larimer Square is a small cluster of older buildings, including one labelled “1886”, as well as some single-story brick shops that now look oddly out of place, as they are just down the road from towering skyscrapers and the enormous modern performing arts center with its sky-high dancers caught mid-twirl. We had heard there was a lovely river wending its way through the city, flanked by strolling paths. River is perhaps a generous term for this small body of water, which appears to be only a couple of feet deep at the heart of urban density, but it is nevertheless a nice touch by the urban planners, and appears to have art dotted along the banks. In short, it seems like a city that is still figuring itself out, even though it is off to a good start.

Sunday morning, we arose before dawn to pack our car and hit the road to Rocky Mountain National Park. A two-hour drive from downtown Denver, this enormous park has so many miles of trails it seemingly must have something for everyone. The drive out of Denver is striking for multiple reasons – the rapidity with which the city falls away and flat endless fields spread out before you, and the suddenness of the mountains’ rise in the distance, dappled with light and almost scraping the clouds. At long last, we were driving up those mountains and into the town of Estes, where we had a chance encounter with a whole herd of elk perched on a grassy median in the center of town. Funnily enough, that median boasted several metal statues of elk, leading Josh and me to joke that this was an elk tour group told to meet at the statues at 9 am for an early start. 

A police car was parked next to this median the whole time to prevent curious onlookers from getting too close.

As we drove on, we passed the camp grounds, where huddled campers were thawing the chill in their bones with hot cups of morning brew, cut the long line of cars with our America the Beautiful Pass, and nabbed one of the last parking spots at the Bear Lake Park and Ride. Pro tip: Rocky Mountain hikers do not mess around. Arrive early, pack lots of snacks and water, and dress in lots of layers. Bonus points if you bring along a really funny hiking partner who tracks how far you’ve gone on his GPS watch.

Josh and I had decided to hike from Bear Lake (a mere 0.5 flat miles from the trailhead and therefore popular with the families-of-kids-under-5 crowd) to the peak of Flattop Mountain. This 4.4-mile hike (each way) was marked as “strenuous” due to its 2,849-foot elevation gain, while already at altitude. But what could two relatively fit, able-bodied adults have to worry about? We hiked the first several miles through rigidly upright evergreens that towered overhead, with a soft, well-kept path underfoot.

As we gained elevation, the height of the trees and the temperature both began to drop. Outlooks rewarded our efforts with sweeping views of the valley below, dotted with iridescent blue lakes.

Then we hit the tree line, and everything changed. Rough shrubs bordered the increasingly rocky trail, and the wind picked up with a vengeance. We quickly put on every layer we had – beanies, gloves, jackets, more jackets – and pushed on. People we passed, who had previously been sunning themselves on large rocks, were now taking shelter beneath small slabs of rock to wolf down snacks. We repeatedly heard a piercing cry, which at first we attributed to some hidden nearby bird nest but discovered was from the tiny, furry pikas who scurried over the rocks.

These little guys collect bits of grass and greenery and bury them to find during the long winter, kind of like squirrels and their acorns. After what felt like quite a long time, we approached the summit. By this point, my fingers were numb and my face raw from the wind. We summitted, snapped a few pictures, and hurried back down.

Luckily, descending is much quicker than ascending (about 1.5 times as fast, per Josh’s watch). We didn’t stop until we reached the shelter of the trees again. As we continued to descend, we started to remember what it felt like to sweat – to have a high enough core temperature to sweat – and my fingers swelled as the blood flow returned. Once we reached the bottom, we wandered around Bear Lake, found a sun-soaked rock, and hunkered down to devour our remaining snacks.

Perhaps we hadn’t taken the “strenuous” hike rating seriously at the beginning, but we were now humbled and exhausted.

Before heading back to Denver, we browsed the storefronts of Estes, half of which seemed to be advertising sweet confections. Josh and I, predictably, were drawn to the paintings, glass art, and stonework. One store had some large fish and manta ray fossils that were estimated at 50 million years old, a number that stops you in your tracks. As we wandered around that store, I was amazed by how many of the fossils and rocks came from the local mountains, a hint at the beauty lying beneath their trail-worn surfaces.

When we finally got back to Denver, we all but collapsed into bed. Insomniacs, Flattop Mountain might just be the medicine you’ve been looking for.

Spotted: So many things. Oil rigs rolling up and down by the side of the highway. A strangely high number of people walking recklessly across highways and dark streets – often slowing down to taunt you in the process. Weed shops everywhere with names ranging from the chill (Da Bong) to the “healthy alternative” (High-Level Health) to the acknowledgement of their rural location (Tumbleweed). Strangely, we haven’t smelled that much weed, but it is clearly a big part of Denver culture (and might account for the people aimlessly wandering across highways – see above).

A few bonus pics:

Josh is not a hunchback, he just stores things in the hood of one of his layers (something I discovered on this trip)