Holiday End

Now, I could let out a sigh of relief. Not because I’d finally gotten rid of my parents, I was sad that our time had come to an end, but because I had absolutely nowhere to be and nothing to organize for the next month.

I spoke to Kev as I drove away from Denver airport towards the mountains. Dad was in position for his flights home to Australia and I was destined for my husband, somewhere in the forest. It was nice to leave the city behind me and return to the pine trees from whence I came and after a couple of hours, I’d found my man. Dan and Cleo greeted me as I romped slowly up a bumpy dirt road and Berta did great.

Dan had found a nice spot in amongst the aspens and pines and as soon as I was level, I got stuck into making dinner. Despite the clouds gathering above us, Dan got a fire going but we never got a chance to sit by it. We watched the flames dance among the rain, sleet, then snow.

Our New Home

The next morning, the weather had cleared and we were all enthusiastic for a late morning walk. I’d missed my dog while I was away and especially missed these camp walks. Dan’s knee was still giving him trouble but he was able to at least walk with only a slight limp.

This is where Dan and I started to get to know each other again. I had so much to fill him in on from the past six weeks and he was no different. It was on this walk that I decided I’d like to camp somewhere and not move. Having successfully juggled my job with the epic fun Dad and I had, I was ready to sit down, relax and focus on work and building back our relationship.

We quickly settled on Buena Vista as our destination because it was a good midpoint for Dan’s work, our hill and a town. It was a Monday so we figured we’d have a good chance of staking a claim on one of the few free camps just outside BV.

We drove off in convoy with me leading the way and my breath was still taken away by the beautiful Colorado scenery. I’d been in this state any times, but I was learning that Summer has a different kind of magic to winter.

As we ascended the familiar dirt road towards our favorite BV camps, I started up my wishful thinking and could feel Dan crossing his fingers in the van behind me. The first spot by the road was half-open – not good enough – and the rest were taken. When we got to the last site where we’d spent a bunch of time when I’d been sick, I was so determined I actually drove in to ask how long the person would be staying. I quickly realized he was a crack-head so backed away slowly and drove out.

Back down the hill, there was only a single car in the wide open spot overlooking the mountains so I figured it was worth an ask. I’d barely walked up to his car when he said, “It’s all yours! I’m just leaving.” AMAZING!

Before even parking up, Dan got out of his car to give me a big hug. This was a big deal. We officially had a home for the next two weeks (because that’s the stay limit). Not only that, we soon discovered this was the premium site of the whole area. We’d always stuck our noses up to it because it wasn’t very level and was in full view of the road, but the views into the valley and of the mountains across it were just stunning.

We took our sweet time parking and leveling the vans to give us full privacy and maximum use of the space while also inviting others to join us. With Labor Day weekend coming up, we didn’t want to be those dicks that parked a car right at the entrance, intentionally blocking everyone out (which we’d seen done). This was a large space and we were happy to share.

I went for a short run before evening to get my jollies off then was happily back at camp for our first sunset. Dan had ignored the existing poorly-placed fire pit and built anew to maximize our sunset views. Another great thing about this site – endless firewood.

The night gently cooled off but we stayed out by the fire until well after dark. Inside the van, I was determined to provide a comfortable warm bed for Cleo and so devised a small tent out of Dan’s doona and we had ourselves a happy dog.

Two Week Camp

For the next two weeks, I stuck to my guns and did not move camp. I got some focus back at work, took Cleo for long walks up the fire road, down the fire road and along the trails. Of course I got the mountain bike out, but I didn’t ever drive Berta away from our home.

Every time I caught someone driving past, I gave them a wave to let them know they were welcome but most people carried on up and then back down the road seeking out their own privacy.

Dan came and went, commuting back and forth to Breckenridge for work and it was nice to have some alone time. We’d had a good time together back in June, but that hadn’t been real life, we’d been on holidays. Now, we were trying to live together again – something we hadn’t done in nearly a year.

The first week was hard and there were times I thought it wasn’t worth the effort but I held tight to my memories of our past and that got me through. I love this man and want to spend the rest of my life with him. We needed this time to work things out and that’s exactly what we did over many nights by the fire.

We all drove the ten minutes into town a few times over the two weeks for groceries and knee appointments – always leaving a van parked at camp to stake our spot. It was nice to have small outings!

Dan worked all through Labor Day weekend and so I was solo ready to make some new friends. The traffic up and down the road was mental and I had many people asking questions. One day a girl showed up in a van ready to mountain bike and she proclaimed in good spirits that this had been “her spot” and she had eight vans to find a home for. A ladies MTB-van trip, I was keen to have them but she carried on and found an established camp with showers and room for everyone. We kept in touch, hoping to ride together, but the most we managed was a chat when the gang rode by a few days later.

It was dark and I was sitting out by the fire when my friends finally arrived. A couple in a car parked next to me and asked if it would be ok if they stayed. I told them of course and they started scouting out the area. They were in tents so opted to walk their stuff down to a little hidey-hole amongst some rocks just down the hill. They were very courteous, especially with their dog Finn who they lead cautiously around Berta. A second couple, Aspen and Grant, showed up half an hour later and I was immediately enamored by this girl’s name. We chatted a little then they went to join their friends.

My new friends had to walk past Berta to get to their cars so we talked a lot over the next few days. Aspen and Kate were sisters and they all lived in Denver, though Aspen and Grant were closing on a house in Evergreen. They invited me to join them on their day hikes and road rides, but I was content at camp, especially on the Sunday because I woke up with zero energy, like I was recovering from a marathon run. It didn’t bother me, I was in a great place and happy to let the long weekend action happen all around me while I had some serious “me-time” working on my roadie. It was nice to finally turn Maddie into my bike.

My new mates and I sat around my fire on Saturday night to enjoy the sunset and each other’s company and I had a ball. These were such great people and I hope to keep in touch, especially if my future lies in Colorado. Not only did we get to know each other, but we made each other laugh constantly and they taught me a lot about Colorado. You’re not allowed to collect rainwater apparently and these people seriously liked their snow – they were all mid-snow challenge attempting to ski at least once every month for as long as possible. They would drive and hike-a-ski for miles just to get a few turns in on some crusty dirty white stuff. If you managed three turns on your skis, it counted. Ha ha!

I was sad to see them go late Sunday night but also anxious for my husband to return. Dan missed meeting Aspen and Grant but he got home Sunday night in time to catch Doug and Kate on their way out. I asked Doug for his contact info and after they left, I saw that he’d given me every piece of information he had, including the name of his home-building company – Galt Industries. Could it be? I messaged him to ask if that had anything to do with Atlas Shrugged and he just replied, “Who is John Galt?” I lost my shit. I will be friends with this man.

Dan and I watched an F1 race that night, shouting into the night like idiots with a beautiful fire warming our backs. It was a great way to welcome him home.

Needing an outing, on the Monday of Labor Day weekend Dan drove with Cleo down to the river while I rode there on the local trails. The weather was just perfect and I was happy for a shuttle driver but I didn’t use him in the end – I rode straight back up the mountain from which I’d descended.

It was a great day to be on the trails because they were full of holiday makers and everyone was on for a chat. I met a father and son who were celebrating the kid’s high school graduation and within the space of five minutes, we’d gotten onto SLAC and how Dad was keen for a remote job in the science field. I told him to look me up on LinkedIn. Happy trails!

We shared a nice lunch down at the river, disappointed not to see more river rafters but happy to have our little piece of heaven all to ourselves. Of course I dunked myself into the frigid water and how refreshing it was to then sit in the sun and dry off.

With Dan off again for work during the week, I got stuck into my work for the second week running. Cleo and I got used to moving around camp as necessary to deal with the sun, shade and distant storms. The view was always changing thanks to the weather and I was happy for it though I’m not sure Cleo was really enjoying the constant fear of lightning strikes.

Our neighbors came and went with the odd person stopping to ask if we were leaving any time soon. We met a couple pulling a huge AirStream with a Porsche SUV and they were the second party to proclaim our spot had always been “their spot” and we welcomed them to share but they made good at the camp right by the road. We went over to theirs for some sunset drinks and had a lovely time with them and another couple who we soon learned were quite affluent. They seemed embarrassed to admit they rarely flew commercially, but privately instead. It didn’t show. They were down to earth people with expensive taste! I would have liked to chat more with the young software engineer who was working remotely for Intel in his truck who’d joined the party, but it got too cold for us to stay too long.

When Dan returned the next weekend, it was time for some serious mechanical work. Having collected over fifty pieces of someone’s toolbox during our fire road walks, this seemed like the perfect roadside garage. I was doing the responsible thing and replacing the rear brake line that hadn’t rusted through like the other one. This inspired Dan to fix his rattling bumper as I got to work but we made sure we always had one operational vehicle. Good thing too because we ended up needing it.

What was supposed to be an organized piece of preventative maintenance turned into the same thing that had happened to Dad and I in Flagstaff, with me piecing together pieces of pre-flared brake lines with whatever connectors various shops in Salida and Buena Vista had on offer. I wasn’t happy, but in the end after much swearing and head scratching, I had functioning brakes again.

My reward after all the mechanicals was to have an epic Sunday ride with Scottie. On one of my previous rides through the local trail network, I’d run into a trail builder who I’d seen before and stopped to chat. He told me he only had to shovel his driveway from snow a couple of times a winter and recommended a loop that would take me high into the mountains on fire road and then onto a hard but doable decent into town. That was my epic and it was just that. Having not spent much time on my pedals for the past two months, I was not bike fit but that didn’t stop me.

The scenery was beautiful throughout the climb and I discovered many a camp that were off limits for most people, including us, thanks to the rough road. As I climbed the weather changed around me, impressive as ever.

I came upon some motorized travelers once I hit a major junction and turned left. I let myself enjoy the fast downhill stint and as I came upon dirt bikers and ATV’ers. I was able to venture off and hit some doubletrack as I neared a valley but it was more intended for motorbikes than skinny wheels like mine.

When I came around a corner that was crowded by brush and saw a river crossing, I sent it knowing I had enough momentum to carry me through. I was right but my shoes and socks got drenched. It worried me a little because the clouds were gathering overhead and I feared cold toes on my decent. I rode faster in the hopes they would dry out.

As I came upon an open plateau riding along a gently climbing road, I had to take shelter under some trees when it started pelting down. Only a passing shower and despite my altitude (over 10,000 feet) it wasn’t cold so I was off again ten minutes later. At least I didn’t have to worry about getting my shoes wet.

The climbing continued as I started winding up sets of switchbacks and I was huffing and puffing hard. I kept thinking of the downhill single track that would be my reward. I’d barely been on anything narrower than a road up until this point.

I’d been warned the downhill trail was technical and it lived up to its double-black diamond rating right from the get-go. The rocks were plentiful and there was more than one death-drop!

I didn’t mind hiking a bike where I needed to because at least now I was trending in the right direction – downwards!

I was stoked when the trail opened up and I could start riding with flow again. Though I wouldn’t recommend the loop or be riding it again, I was happy to have the experience.

I caught up with a group of riders who were sessioning some rocky sections, gleeful to ride straight by them without scratching and keeping my pace high as I neared civilization.

I stopped in at a campground for a sticky-beak and was reminded of how grateful I was to have our secluded spot with the epic views. When I hit the road that would lead me into town, I ventured into the tunnels that had once been for trains then pedaled my way towards the river.

Dan and Cleo were there waiting for me with lunch and a nice can of Coke. They’d had a wonderful day chilling by the water and I was happy to join them. At nearly 4pm, it was still just warm enough to have a frigid shower in the river and then it was home for our last night at camp.

The next day, we packed up and said goodbye to our glorious BV home. Dan had quit his job in Breckenridge and now it was time for us to move in together.

Knee Errands

We spent two nights on the hill before making our next move. The place was becoming more special to us the more time we spent there and we soaked it up.

When we awoke on our last morning, we shrieked with delight at the first snow on the mountains. It was September 11th. We took it as a good sign.

Dan parked up the Club Wagon and moved all of his belongings into Berta. The van was designed for two and now we were going to find out how well we’d designed it.

With some knee appointments in Breckenridge, we didn’t have far to go and were glad we had the freedom to rock up to a city campsite mid-week and pretty much be guaranteed a site. Not something Dan likes to do, we paid our money for a convenient spot by the Lake Dillon. The views were gorgeous and we had our pick of the sites.

We were in t-shirts to start the next day and out of camp right on the check-out time of 11am. Dan had an MRI done on his knee and we had a week to kill before finding out the results. We did a supply run and got what we needed from Dillon, then ventured south-west towards a place that had always been on my list but I’d never quite gotten there – Aspen. All signs were pointing us in that direction.

Aspens were fast becoming my favourite tree. My Labor Day friend Aspen told me that Aspens are the largest known living organism in the world. You never see just one Aspen because they grow in clusters – a family connected by their underground roots. While the town of Aspen is the tree’s namesake, the largest known family is in Crested Butte. Aspens turn yellow, then gold, then a deep red towards the end of September and “leaf peepers” come from all over the world to see them. I loved seeing them in any color. Their leaves wave at you in a slight breeze and I did a lot of waving back as we drove into the Colorado Summer.

#6 Camp

After driving through Leadville, we turned east and stopped promptly at Twin Lakes for lunch. What a gorgeous spot! There was one guy in an RV parked up towards the top of the entry road under an umbrella in a crappy chair with his laptop with Starlink by his side. Ok, he was doing it, but he could have had better style.

We parked at the water’s edge and ate lunch, sharing a can of coke and marveling at the views. The water was crystal clear and the mountain peaks to the west were calling our names. It was lovely to be amongst the pines but I was ready to see my aspens.

I drove as we started our climb up Independence Pass. We didn’t get very far before stopping to clean the windscreen. With the colors we were about to see, I wanted to see everything clearly so it was worth the effort. Berta climbed graciously to just over 12,000 feet, then we descended toward the fabled town.

We’d scouted camps and there wasn’t much on offer in the way of free spots but we were hopeful. Ten miles before Aspen, we turned left off the narrow winding road and into Lincoln Gulch. From what we’d read, we knew we were in for a bumpy ride so I took it easy and we were happy no one was coming the other way. Site #1 was free but a terrible option so we pushed on and lost a little faith when the next four sites were occupied. It was a Thursday afternoon in high leaf-peeper season after all. We held onto hope as we drove the next 1-mile stretch to the next group of sites. We exited the forest and found #6 in a beautiful clearing with no trace of humans. We’d found our Aspen home!

The sun was just about setting behind the mountains and after we parked, I was quick to get down to the creek and have a cold-plunge shower. As we got ourselves set up at #6, we were stoked to be out of the forest because the sun would bring us welcome warmth over the next few days. Those in the forest would remain in the shaded cold.

Over the next few days, we walked far up the road and back towards the highway and as we often do, decided that we in fact had the best camp of them all with complete privacy, immediate access to the running creek, open sky for Starlink and full sun during the day.

We spend the next day in the Gulch so I could finish my work week without too much running around. Dan happily spent the morning on firewood duty and we took Cleo on a couple of long walks. I just couldn’t stop admiring the trees around us. I’m so glad Aspen had told me about the “tree families” because I could see who was related by the colors of different leaves. It was just stunning.

I was restless in the afternoon so got on Scottie for a ride deep into the Gulch. We’d walked all the way up to the last campsite but the road carried on and I wanted to know where it ended. We’d seen many a truck drive by loaded with high-vis clothed workers and I soon found out why. At the end of the Gulch was a dam that was undergoing restoration.

I was glad we didn’t have to drive any further up the road as it became quite rocky, but then petered out and at the dam there was yet another campground.

The valley was a nice sight and I can imagine a very popular place in Summer when the dam is operational.

Back at camp, Dan had the firepit ready and I spent the evening re-applying rim tape to my rear wheel to keep my rear tire from constantly going flat – something I’d been putting off. It was a therapeutic job to do while gazing up at the stars and listening to the crackle of fire.

Balloons and Bells

The weekend had arrived! We STILL hadn’t been to Aspen! Dan was in charge of weekend activities and he drove us out of camp promptly at 7:30am. We strategically staged our chairs and some shoes by the fire pit to save our spot and we drove straight through Aspen without stopping. We were headed to Snowmass, the next town over.

Once there, we were met with lines of traffic and patted ourselves on the back as we neared the entry to the carpark for the hot air balloon festival. Our timing was perfect! Except it wasn’t. Three cars in front of us, they closed the carpark and started directing people onwards to a far-away place and a shuttle bus. Nope. We’re not sheep. Dan drove us into a neighborhood, then back out and we parked on the street where a growing number of people were doing the same thing. We laughed as people were convinced by a guy in a vest to move their cars but we weren’t stupid. They couldn’t tow upwards of twenty cars. We left Cleo with Berta, rugged up for the early morning chill and crossed the road to Snowmass’ 49th annual balloon festival.

I expected to see a few hot air balloons in the sky, but this was something else. We could walk right onto the balloon field and watch as dozens of balloons were slowly inflated, their baskets tipped upright, then their passengers lifted gently into the air. Amazing!

We couldn’t stop turning and seeing something new! A new color there, another guy dangling on a rope over here a burst of heat coming from right behind us.

We were dazzled by the colors and our necks soon hurt from looking up. There must have been a few thousand people there and while most of them had children, we felt like the biggest kids there.

As the sun came up over the mountains, most of the balloons had left the ground and we later learned that it wasn’t just about flying – they were completing different challenges, like trying to land in a certain spot after so many minutes afloat.

While looking up into the colored sky, I noticed a blue car high up among the houses in the nearby hills. It looked like a couple was sitting on their open boot watching the procession from above. We’d seen it all from ground level and now I was keen for the long view. I pointed out the car to Dan and we quickly figured out what road they were on so drove off for a new vantage.

Cars lined every inch of street and we drove alongside balloons as we climbed up into the suburbs of Snowmass. We found the blue car on a dirt road near a park entrance and thanked the couple that was posted up for alerting us to this amazing viewpoint.

I made breakfast and we sat watching the balloons in awe. Thanks Dan for finding out about this amazing event. What a sight!

We watched a yellow balloon go off course and eventually make landfall on a hill across from us having tried three times to descend, then fly up again to catch another breeze. It hadn’t worked, his team would have to hike in and retrieve him. There were a couple that had similar issues and it was fun to see the pick-up cars scrambling below to get to their team.

Once the balloons started hitting the deck and the color faded from the sky, we were ready to make our next move. We took Cleo on a long walk along the Snowmass ridge trail and felt a little silly for all our morning layers. With the sun well and truly out, it was t-shirt weather.

As we drove around Snowmass marveling at the construction of new homes on every corner, I called an old friend, Erik, whom I’d met in Moab when camp hosting. It had been nearly a year but he remembered me and while he wasn’t free to catch up, he gave me a bunch of recommendations for his hometown of Aspen and chewed my ear off about his latest projects.

We left Snowmass village and drove into Aspen. I’d made it. We found a rare free spot for Berta at a grassy public park on the main road then waltzed into town to check out the farmer’s market. Breakfast had been a long time ago so as soon as I spotted a crepe stand, I let them take my money ($18 for a single crepe!). We found a seat at a picnic table in the shade and watched the madness. This place could really draw a crowd and I’m not sure a single person was local.

Leaving the market, we wandered over to the local sports field where we found two teams warming up for a rugby match. Yay, sports! Dan got us some frozen yogurt with all the fixings and we parked up to watch. When 1pm came and went, we got the attention of a player and asked the start time – 3pm. That was too long of a warm-up. Dan was keen for the free mac-and-cheese festival that afternoon while I was ready for a ride.

Taking Eric’s advice, I got the Trek out of Berta and rode towards Maroon Lake. I was still new to this all-carbon road bike that Dan had found and by the end of the ride, she’d got her name and felt like my bike – Maddie.

Erik had described the ride well. After following bike path and hitting the road, I soon passed through an entrance gate where only cars with reservations were allowed. That meant having the whole road to myself, except for the e-bike gangs that I’d been forewarned about. An example of sedentary activities that require no training and result in swarms of nature- and safety-ignorant people on the trails.

The aspen trees waved at me as I started to climb up towards the lake. I had dense forest on my right and an open colorful valley on my left. It was a steady ascent up the straight road and I could see mountain peaks towering up in front of me. What a beautiful way to enjoy Aspen.

At the Maroon Lake parking area, the group of e-bike women I’d started with and exchanged places a few times were just making up their bikes. They commended me on my performance while I assured them I hadn’t been on a bike properly in over 6 weeks so their eyes got even bigger.

I walked up the short trail to Maroon Lake and it was stunning. With the “bells” looming over the water, this was a typical Coloradan view.

Bell Lake was another couple of miles up the trail and I contemplated. The ride hadn’t taken me as long as I thought and as always, I wondered when I would be here next. Bugger it, I put my helmet-covered head down and started walking in my bike shoes. I would have sore feet the next day from the flat-footed walking over rough and rocky terrain but I’m glad I made the effort.

There were barely any tourists on this trail and though the lake wasn’t as pretty as Maroon, the walk through the colored woods was glorious. Proper alpine stuff.

As I admired the second lake, a lady came up to me, enamored with my haircut of all things! Though I was wearing my helmet, she pleaded that I take it off so that she could see my hair. She didn’t speak much English, but was able to show her wonder that I’d cut it so short at the back and that she thought it looked great! She had long fuzzy hair and explained that she didn’t enjoy it. I advised her to cut it all off.

I fast-hiked back to Maroon Lake and my bike, not wanting to keep Dan waiting and I was happy with how the bike shoes held up. As I walked along Maroon Lake, I caught up with a pair of hikers carrying ropes and gear and asked where they’d come from. They’d climbed to the peak of Bell Mountain having started from the parking lot before sunrise. It had been an epic and one they were clearly proud of. I found out from them that this is where you start the hike over to Crested Butte, something my new friend Aspen was currently doing.

The ride down the hill was brilliant. No pedaling, just cruising and enjoying the views. Thanks Maddie.

Dan was waiting at the bottom of the road for me and while he’d been disappointed by the Mac-and-cheese fest (small samples and long lines) he’d enjoyed himself. We were both ready for camp.

Even camp #1 was full now and we were happy to see our #6 right as the sun went down. We were less happy to see a bright orange sticker pasted to the bear box and that our fire pit had been dismantled. The ranger had been by and we’d been cited for building a fire pit and “abandoning personal items”. Well! There was no money involved in this citation, but we took it personally, ranting on about how the existing fire pit was in a poor location and ours was better built and took in the views. As for abandoned personal items, what did they expect? That you remain at camp at all times or else? No fun here. No fun allowed.

Funnily enough, the next day we did just that. It was a rainy day and we had F1 to watch and so we hunkered down with our shivering dog to stay inside and watch the weather change.

Friend in Aspen

Having stayed through the weekend and pushed the limits of the 4-day limit, after I finished work on Monday, we drove into Aspen one more time. The sun was out and there was a hike on Erik’s list we wanted to do.

Cleo and I took a walk towards the exit while Dan finished packing up camp and when I heard a big blue van coming up behind us, I smiled. She looked great having been washed by the rain. That’s my Berta!

We parked halfway up a suburban hillside on the opposite side of the valley to Aspen’s ski hill and did what you’d call a suburban loop. It didn’t take us long to get out of the neighbourhood and into the trees.

We followed a creek as we ascended, covering rocky ground, then came out into wheat fields that stretched into the forest.

It was still the aspens that took my breath away the most. It didn’t matter how many we saw or how close I came to them, they are such a beautiful tree.

We came out to a viewpoint of Aspen’s ski mountain and looking down into the village, I was surprised at how small it looked. We’d seen some photos at the farmer’s market that made it look monstrous but in the daylight, it looked like a quiet, humble town.

Our descent followed a steep dirt road that seemed to be the Camelback of Aspen. Many a lunch-time hiker was out carrying nothing but their ginormous phones in their hands. Couldn’t put them away for a second apparently!

As we wound our way through a neighborhood back towards Berta, I contemplated that Erik must live somewhere in the area and just then, who should approach us on the trail? Erik and his young (and very enthusiastic) golden retriever. He looked just the same as when I’d seen him in Moab and his enthusiasm hadn’t waned one bit. I introduced him to Dan and he spewed words as he always does and energized us both. He did live in the apartment complex we’d just walked past. Needing to get back for a meeting, we wished each other well and said our goodbyes. I was profusely thankful for his recommendations because they’d been spot on!

Satisfied with our Aspen experience, we were ready to hit the road and head back towards Breckenridge. I contemplated riding Maddie up Independence Pass (on Erik’s recommendation) as we lay in the grass of our favorite park but decided it was too late in the day and the road a little too busy for my liking so we piled into Berta for the climb over the mountain pass. The road would close for the season in just a few weeks.

We made it to Twin Lakes by sunset and were thoroughly impressed with the free camping on offer. Though we could see our neighbors in a van, we parked up on a bluff with our open door looking out over the lake.

As an added bonus, the clouds cleared enough for us to watch the full moon rise.

Twin Lakes

I crammed my work day into the early hours of the morning, then we took a longer-than-expected walk around the dam above Twin Lakes. Of course we walked through aspen trees to get there and found camps abounds. This place must be absolutely slammed in Summer.

When we came upon the dam, we figured we might as well walk the perimeter and so we did, not seeing any evidence of human life until a group of guys drove up in a truck. I helped them out with a group photo.

Back at camp, I met a guy on the trail up to Mt. Elbert. He was staying in Leadville to enjoy the area and told me that he planned to crest the tallest peak in Colorado (14,433 feet) some time in the next week. I couldn’t believe it. The mountain that rose before us didn’t seem all that tall but that’s what made it a popular hike – it was one of the easier 14’ers to peak.

In the late afternoon, I decided there was still enough daylight left to get a MTB in. With a trail covering the perimeter of both lakes, I was keen so Scottie and I got geared up.

I did a quick descent down to water level and thoroughly enjoyed the winding trail that followed the south banks of the lakes. I saw a couple of trail runners out and enjoyed the brief company, even if it was only to say a quick hello.

Of course, there were aspens abounds and I was stoked to find that I was on the Continental Divide Trail and the Colorado Trail at the same time! If the AZT went well, these trails may well be next.

I rode past the remnants of an early 1900s Summer resort that had long been abandoned but some buildings had been beautiful restored. The building that sat between the lakes we’d been able to see from camp so I called Dan as I stood on the front porch, waving madly. He could see me and I explained what I saw in the house as I walked through it.

It was a beautiful old wooden home that people were welcome to stay in should they need to shelter from the weather. The stairs up to the lookout room may not have been regulation!

I rode on and as I neared the edge of the second lake, the sun was dipping low behind the mountains and I was ready to head back.

Always keen for a shortcut and minimize time riding on the road, I took a well-marked trail to my right and did a quick descent to lake level where I was met with a wide river. Hmm.

There was no way to cross on my wheels so I was going to be getting my feet wet. The water was rushing past quickly and I feared the cold that would penetrate my toes this late in the day but I didn’t want to ride back the way I’d come.

I took my shoes off and did a test walk halfway across the river. Yes, I could manage it but if I fell over, I’d be buggered. Nothing like an adventure! I strapped my shoes to my bike, got her nicely slung over my shoulder and started edging through the river, careful step by careful step.

Of course the water was freezing but my concentration on my footing kept any toe pain away. I was elated when I reached the other side and my feet soon warmed up in my shoes.

I rode on a light trail through some scrub to get to the road, then I was on-trail again doing some incredibly hard climbing. Riding at altitude was my future so I embraced it.

When I finally reached the top of the rocky fire road, I was on trail again and swerving through a tight aspen forest. I could have bailed on the climb and ridden back to camp along the road and I’m so glad I hadn’t. What a reward this was.

It was 8pm and sunset by the time I got back and Dan was happy to see me. He already had a fire going which suited me just fine.

Back in Breck

We had a lazy morning complete with a leisurely walk, then packed up our beautiful camp and drove north-east back towards Breckenridge.

As I drove out, both of us heard an alarming whine coming from the engine bay. It sounded like a turbo whistle but once we got onto the highway, we had power so it wasn’t that. We stopped at a servo to check under the bonnet and reckoned we had an exhaust leak that was causing a whistle. I remembered and located a stripped bolt holding part of the EGR system on but why whistle now? The conditions/altitude/wind speed must have been just perfect because it went away after the morning. A happy fix!

Once in Breckenridge, we parked up near Dillon Lake to hang out so that Dan could walk over the road to check-in for tomorrow’s appointment. After taking Cleo for a walk, he did just that while I worked. It was on to our faithful city camp then and our favorite spot was open yet again! Dan had a fire going quick smart and with the nights getting steadily colder, we needed it.

Cottonwood Pass

We were up early the next day for Dan’s appointment with the knee doctor and had packed up our frosted chairs to be out by 8:30am. Parked at the medical center, I walked Cleo and had barely finished breakfast when Dan came out. The doctor had reported a meniscus tear on his right knee but thankfully it was minor. Dan could either leave it be and hope for the best or have surgery to snip off the piece of his meniscus that had come loose. He’d walked out thinking he wouldn’t bother with the surgery but when he explained the details to me, I thought he was mad not to do it. I must have been convincing because Dan walked straight back in to schedule the surgery. He’d been thinking the logistics would be too hard but I reminded him that we had all the freedom in the world. We’d be back in Breck in December.

Happy to get out of town, we drove to the ever-familiar Buena Vista and camped up in the town park to finish my work day. With that out of the way, we were both excited to venture into new territory again. I left Dan in the park and rode away on Maddie. Thanks to advice from my Labor Day friends, I was going to tackle Cottonwood Pass with Dan and Cleo meeting me at the top. It wasn’t a long ride – 20 miles – so Dan gave me an hour head start.

After riding through the flat suburbs of BV, the tarmac started to rise. It was a beautiful road and though narrow in places, there wasn’t enough traffic to bother me. I’d done lots of hill climbing but this was the first time I was starting high (nearly 10,000 ft) and so I felt my heavy breathing early on.

I had a few Aspens wave to me at the start, then I was into the pines and before long, above the tree line entirely. The mile markers were counting down so it was easy to know how far I had to go to reach the peak.

A few miles out, I started thinking about the blue van and just as I was getting to the last pine trees, there she was behind me. I had my quick speech ready for Dan but he drove slowly past me with yells of encouragement so I just gave him a thumbs up. He stopped at a pullout further up the road and I was able to tell him that if I wasn’t at the top by a certain time, he should come back down. I’d come this far but the top was still a long way and I wasn’t sure of my lungs and legs.

He faithfully drove on by and I was alone again, getting into some tight switchbacks but keeping a steady pace. I had a view of the saddle for the last mile and thoroughly enjoyed it. I could hear Dan yelling out when I got close and Berta was a shining beacon atop the hill.

I pumped hard the last few corners and was elated to reach the top. Having not done much riding lately, I was proud of myself. I’d ridden the last section so quickly that Dan hadn’t had time to get down from his viewpoint and when he reached me he was wearing his usual smile. It had taken me just over two hours so I’d have to return to try get in under that mark!

The view looking back was stunning so we stayed a while to enjoy it and got talking to a traveling retired couple who were just as enamored with the view. When Dan told them I rode up there they were incredulous.

As the wind picked up, we packed up and drove down the other side of the mountain to find camp. Dan did a great job taking us along a dirt road and into the forest where we were protected from the wind but also had a view of sunset back towards Cottonwood.

A Day in Telluride

After a long walk in the woods and a short work day, we hit the road towards another place we’d never visited – Telluride. As usual, we took the minor highways and the autumn colours kept getting better. We were seeing more reds now.

We had a very long stop at some bridge construction over a lake where we managed to have a spot of lunch and I got out to give the windows a good wash just for something to do. The joys of taking the scenic route!

It was a long day of driving which meant we approached Telluride quite late in the afternoon. Dan had a few camps pegged along the valley and we tried those but came up with nothing. There were a lot of houses buried out in the forest along the dirt roads. We didn’t mind the hunt – the Aspens were keeping us company.

Left with only one option, we ventured up a big hill past many-a-pasture to a well known free camp. Being a Friday we knew there’d be slim pickings and sure enough, when we peaked over the top of the road, there were vans abounds.

We didn’t even bother with the open clearing but drove into the Aspen forest along a very narrow road. The few spots amongst the trees were also full but we managed to nestle Berta in amongst the yellow trees to make home for the night. We were a little disappointed but hey, this was Telluride on a weekend.

We took a walk further along the road and when we saw a big open camp on our right just before the trees gave way to a clearing, no discussion was needed. I handed Dan the keys and he went back for Berta while Cleo and I staked out the place and collected some firewood. No one around, plenty of space to spread out? Perfect.

After wiping the glee off our faces, we carried on with our walk, meeting a group that had set themselves up in the rocky clearing to watch sunset, armed with wine and cheese. It was a popular 4WD road so we saw a few dirt bikers and full cars coming down after a day of adventure.

We enjoyed the sunset, had ourselves a lovely big fire and looked forward to our adventures in Telluride the next day.

Despite the intermittent rain and clouds over Telluride, we had a wonderful time exploring the town. Though we started the day in my Summer weekend best, by the time we reached the town center, we had re-thought our wardrobe.

We drove to the very end of the valley to check out the waterfalls and the power station perched at the top. It was a beautiful sight with only a light mist pummeling down the dark rock and with the stormy clouds overhead, it was a dramatic sight. There wasn’t a park to be had and we didn’t want to hike anyway so we made our way back into town and parked up so we could explore a bit.

There were tourists abounds enjoying a late brunch and we were happy to skip that and head towards the gondola. The main street of the town had been beautifully maintained and kept its 1800s charm with the old bank facade, wide open street and stunning view back towards the waterfall. The flowers lining the streets were the perfect touch.

At the gondola, we were stoked to find out it was free to ride and pets were welcome. I wouldn’t say Cleo enjoyed it, but she endured. It was a short ride up and over a ridge that took us from Telluride into Mountain Village. I was thrilled to see the mountain bikers ripping along the trails below us and got excited about riding all day for free thanks to the gondola (as if – you have to buy a ticket if you have wheels).

As we wandered around Mountain Village, we felt as though we’d been transported a hundred years into the future. It was just like every other ski mountain village with boogy restaurants and stores, outdoor seating and open propane fires. It was great that they’d separated it from the historic town of Telluride. This way, you could pick your poison.

When it started to rain, we ventured back to the gondola and Cleo definitely didn’t enjoy the return trip with rain pattering against the box and wind moving it from side to side. We shared the ride down with another couple who’d been underdressed at the peak and listened to the Mum talk to her son on the phone about healthy eating the whole way down.

We wandered back to Berta through the neighborhoods and briefly checked out the campground which is always full before getting into our nice warm, dry van.

That was Telluride! It was such a small town it hadn’t taken us long to explore it and with the weather really coming in, we were happy to spend the rest of our afternoon driving south-west, properly heading back to Phoenix now.

By the time we parked up at a Casino campground in Cortez, the sun was back out and though Dan was clearly disappointed in this urbanized camp, we at least had the place to ourselves and a hot tub to enjoy. We thought about going over to the Indian Res. Casino but thought better of it in the end, happy to have a night in.

Goodbye Aspens

All too soon, we left my beautiful Aspens behind and descended into Arizona. I wasn’t ready. I’d realized as we approached Cortez late the previous day that the colors were behind us and I was sad. Now, we’d have only bushes and cactus to keep us company.

Not long after leaving camp, we entered Arizona straight from Colorado. It was my first time going through the Four Corners where Arizona, Utah, Colorado and New Mexico meet. Katy had wisely advised that the monument celebrating this special spot on the earth was underwhelming and so we didn’t bother joining the dozens of cars streaming in and out of the Najavo-run tourist trap that would have cost us money.

While the trees were behind us, we still had color, just in different forms. We were skirting Monument Valley so the red rocks kept us company as we drove south-west.

Dan found us a great camp after leaving the Navajo Nation behind and entering the national forests north-east of Payson. We were amongst the pines where we were happy to be by ourselves with plenty of choices. It was the first time in a while we were camped somewhere and we didn’t see another person. We made the most of it with a fire, some outdoor F1 watching and a beautiful charcuterie board to celebrate.

Christopher Creek

We were in delay mode now, close enough to Phoenix to drive in at a moment’s notice but not wanting to get there just yet. Dan was trip leader and he had found a climbing spot just east of Payson. Called Christopher Creek, apparently we were in for a secluded camp and some great water-side rock.

We got there mid-afternoon and while there was a huge open area for parking and camping, we were in isolation mode and were very happy with ourselves when we followed a power line road into the trees and found a glorious camp. This one was going in the books for future use.

I finished up my work day then we all ventured into the canyon, Dan armed with Mountain Project to point out the climbs we had to look forward to. He was a very good tour guide as we descended down towards the creek. The rocks where water had been were smooth and a beautiful deep purple color and the way down was easy to navigate.

Having left Colorado’s high elevations behind, we were back in full-Summer mode and it was nice to walk through the water where we had to. We explored as far as we could, pointing out a bolt here and an anchor over there. The rock looked just great for climbing.

The sunset was magical as we climbed back up the way we’d come and of course we celebrated our new camp with a fire. I shed tears that night as I looked up at the stars after finishing the book “Elevation” by Stephen King.

After work the next day, we put our climbing gear on and went back to the creek. We were shade hunting and Dan knew what grades we were looking for so I followed his lead. We set up at a wall that had a 5.8 then some 5.9s and 5.10s peppered along it and I thought that was just dandy.

As usual, we hadn’t climbed in ages so had to shake the rust off and a 5.8 short climb was perfect for that. After the first couple of bolts I did a bit of huffing and puffing to get to the third but figured that was just me forgetting how to climb – it was a 5.8 after all. As I was setting up anchor at the top, feeling the burn in my arms, Dan was looking at Mountain Project with a furrowed brow. Suddenly it dawned on him. Not only had he got the climb wrong, we weren’t even at the right crag. I’d just warm-up on a 5.10c!! Ha ha, I laughed. What a way to push your wife!

That meant he had to climb it and that he did, marveling at my bravery. Ignorance is power!

Following that adventure, with our forearms a little shaky, we moved over to the wall Dan had intended to put us on and enjoyed a few lovely low-grade routes with plenty of grip and great protection. It was a perfect way to spend a warm afternoon and Cleo thought so too. When the rope comes out, I know she’s stoked because it means a few hours of snoozing and wildlife watch if she can be so bothered.

We wore out quickly and it was Momo day so we decided to pack it up and drive out just before sunset. The Gooding household is on that side of Phoenix so it wasn’t out of our way to drop-in and to do it unannounced.

It was just about dinner time when we pulled into the driveway and Heidi was straight onto us. She’d seen the big blue from the kitchen window and lead the troops out to meet us. There was much joy and a lot of picking up children and it was nice to see the happy surprise on Momo’s face.

We joined the family for dinner then had a blast at the nearby airplane park playing tag amongst the lit up cubes and laughing the whole time.

What a Summer we’d had in the state of Colorado but it was nice to be “home”.

Aug 25 – Sep 25, 2024