I returned to the Flatirons, the unusual mountains at the foothills of the Rockies in Boulder, Colorado. The last time I was there, with my mom and dad, I was 13 years old. I wrote about that visit in this blog post: https://stories-i-tell-myself.com/2017/02/06/another-road-trip-and-another-letter-from-zada/.
This time the visit was part of a vacation planned around a wedding in the Denver area. Gary and I flew out early on a Thursday morning; the wedding was scheduled for Saturday. We explored some of Denver, attended the welcome party, and then the wedding itself (which was beautiful!). We stayed in Denver after the wedding to see a Rockies game at Coors Field. Gary and I enjoy seeing baseball games in different stadiums. Coors Field was charming. Unfortunately for the friends we attended with, who are fervent Red Sox fans, Boston lost in the bottom of the ninth. As Met fans, we could commiserate. Of course, the Rockies’ fans were overjoyed.
Though I had visited Denver on that original trip in 1973, long before the Rockies baseball team existed, I have few memories of the city. According to Google, the population was 525,300 in 1973 and is now 739,600, roughly a 41% increase, if I did the math correctly. Knowing my mother, we would have done some sightseeing while we were there, but it didn’t make much of an impression. Today, there is a lot more to it. Gary and I took advantage of our time to take in some sights. Aside from the baseball game, we thoroughly enjoyed the Denver Art Museum (which is huge and has extensive collections), the Botanical Gardens, and the Margaret “Molly” Brown House (she is famous as one of the Titanic survivors but led a much fuller and more fascinating life than that one fact suggests). I also took Gary on what was supposed to be a scenic walk along the river that turned out to be quite seedy and unsettling. Oh well, we corrected course and did see the artsy RiNo area. Sometimes there is a fine line between artsy and seedy.
We had decided to extend our trip beyond Denver to make it a true vacation. Our plan, following the wedding weekend, was to go to Estes Park, where Rocky Mountain National Park is located, and spend three days there. We made a couple of stops on our way to Estes Park, first to visit Red Rocks Amphitheater and Park, and then to have lunch in Boulder.
As I noted in my earlier blog post about that 1973 trip, the Rocky Mountains were not revealed to us until we were right up on them because of rain and heavy, gray skies. We literally woke up in Boulder, looked out the window, and there they were! The Flatirons, aptly named for their appearance, are huge slabs of angled stone right outside our windows. I was surprised how poignant it was when I saw them again. It brought me back to that summer of 1973. The memories were so strong. I wanted to call my mom and dad and tell them about it. Dad has been gone for over 20 years, and Mom for over two. I think of them all the time, of course, but this pang was more intense. There was something about the memories that stirred me deeply.
That trip in 1973 was a seminal time in my young life – so many lasting lessons. Being alone with my parents for such an extended period, and at an age when I was more aware, I saw them as human beings – not just as all-knowing parents. I also realized people lived all different kinds of lives; a world existed beyond Brooklyn. Finally, I gained a lifelong appreciation for the awesome beauty of nature when I saw the majesty of those mountains.
Coming back to Colorado after all these years, as we drove through Boulder, I recognized the University campus by its red-tiled roofs. I was surprised that I could pick out the dorm where we stayed. I have such a vivid image of the building and the view it afforded in my mind’s eye, and I was amazed to find my memory was accurate.
Gary and I had lunch in Boulder and then continued our journey to Estes Park, where Rocky Mountain National Park is located. I had no memories of the town, but I certainly recalled riding along Trail Ridge Road in the park. This time, the views were still spectacular, but not quite as overwhelming. In the 50 years since that first trip, I have been lucky enough to travel quite a bit. If you grow up with the Catskills as your idea of mountains, then nothing can quite compare to the first time one sees the real thing. Seeing the gray, craggy, snow-capped mountains again was in no way disappointing, but it didn’t evoke the awe I felt when I was 13.
I asked Gary what he thought. He loved the park, too, but his first experience of majestic mountains was at Yosemite. While he also appreciated what we were seeing, it wasn’t as awe-inspiring as that initial time in Yosemite Valley.
That said, we had a wonderful time exploring the park. We drove Trail Ridge Road and marveled at the landscape. We took a guided hike, Bridal Veil Falls via Cow Creek Trail, which was a challenging and fabulous experience. We walked through drizzle, rain, clouds, and clear blue skies, cool breezes, and penetrating sun. We traversed meadows dotted with wildflowers alongside Cow Creek, where a strong stream provided a soundtrack to accompany the birdsong. We walked through a forest of Ponderosa pine and quaking aspen. We crossed the creek by walking over well-placed logs and scrambled across wet rocks to get to the end of the trail. The payoff was a waterfall – actually, there were several waterfalls. It was well worth the effort.
Our guide, Leo, provided a lot of insight into the ecosystem and shared some of his wisdom from years of hiking and backpacking in the wilderness. I was proud of myself for overcoming my fear of slipping on the rocks, which I avoided by crab-walking when necessary or scooting on my tush. I also worried that I wouldn’t have the stamina to hike at altitude, knowing we would end up at about 8,800 feet. I was fine. It was demanding, but doable. My iPhone recorded 7.2 miles. When we returned to our motel, I took a shower and bath to soothe my tired muscles! My two trips to Colorado and Rocky Mountain National Park, spaced more than 50 years apart, were both so enlightening. Each time, I had new things to learn and spectacular scenery to absorb. I would be happy to go back again, but with so many other places to see, and us getting older, it may not happen. I am grateful for the experiences I have had, and I will treasure the images of nature’s beauty forever. I just wish I could tell Mom and Dad.
Photo gallery of Rocky Mountain National Park:
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