Rocky Mountain High

Having visited a few of them by now, I've found that most national parks in the United States have a "park loop" road. This road can be one-way or two-way and usually winds through the park to allow access to overlooks and parking lots for trailheads. When I have had a limited amount of time to experience a park, it's the park loop road that has allowed me to make the most of that time and see as much of the park as possible. Needless to say, I have faith in the park loop road. That is, I had faith.

On my first trip to Denver, my objective was to capture "Colorado scenes" for the new hospital my mother was helping to open in the area. But on our drive from the airport, we couldn't even see the Denver skyline as we approached the city. Wildfires in the northwestern states were creating so much smoke that was being blown across the country that Colorado and much of the west was shrouded in a thick haze. Those picturesque and majestic mountains were out there - I knew they were - but no matter how far we drove in either direction we couldn't see them clearly. And so, our plan was to drive into them by visiting Rocky Mountain National Park where I could use my Annual Park Pass for the first time since purchasing it.

There's something about the name of this park that both intimidates and inspires me. Perhaps it's flashbacks of geography classes in school in which we learned about mountain ranges. Or maybe "Rocky Mountain" was mentioned in so many movies and documentaries I saw while growing up that the idea of seeing them in person felt like such a milestone in my life. Whatever the reason, the fact of the matter was I was going to Rocky Mountain National Park and it was going to be EPIC.

We decided to split the park in half, entering through the eastern roads on the first day and the western on the second. And that first day was spectacular. Blue skies and white, puffy clouds beckoned us on the drive in and the haze dissipated as we drove to higher altitudes. Our objective was Bear Lake but we stopped as often as we pleased along the way to snap shots as the scene changed from rich, pine tree-covered foothills to sweeping valleys with craggy, grey mountains in the background. The road we drove was winding and offered dramatic views of the area, which we took our time admiring since neither of us had been there before.

We finally made it to Bear Lake (after running into a brood of turkeys after entering the park) and hiked through the enormous parking lot to the trail. As you'd guess in early September, the park was flooded with tourists and this “must see” spot was no different. I was irritated by the hoards, floating around in groups and stopping at all the good views to take pictures of each other over and over until each person was satisfied his or her face and pose was just right. But once I got a clear view of the lake I was awestruck. Calm, glassy water reflected clearly and perfectly the pine forest and rocky peaks above it creating a mirrored world on its surface. Standing, squatting, laying, climbing - any vantage point gave a new perspective but each one was beautiful. Day one definitely lived up to expectations and kept the excitement and anticipation for day two going strong.

On that second day, we approached the park from the western side and made our way to Trail Ridge Rd to head north and then east, eventually returning to the Denver area. The western side was very different and it was apparent immediately. The road in was winding and steep with sheer drop-offs and unfathomable views of the mountain range. Much of the forest was dead or had burned, so the mountainsides were grey-brown instead of a rich green. The haze was still present here, being nearer the source than the eastern side had been, so the sky was a fuzzy white glow. I was driving, of course, because my mom prefers to be a navigator when traveling in unfamiliar places and I prefer to control the speed of the vehicle. 

I learned something about my mother in the few hours it took us to reach the entrance to the park: she can hold her breath for an extremely long time. We would start at the bottom of a long, winding road and seeing the curves ahead she would suck in her breath, sharply and audibly. As we continued to follow the road for ten or twenty minute stretches of time, she would lean further and further toward the driver side, completely silent. When we leveled out and were surrounded once more by trees and rocks instead of empty space and certain death, she would exhale, groan, and slide back over to sit fully in her seat.

I was fine, of course, having full control of the automobile and adhering to the speed limit, although probably infuriating the speedsters with a death wish who wanted to race up and down the mountain and around hairpin curves. I felt sorry for my mother, but didn’t say anything. There was nothing for it - we had to drive this way in order to see the magnificent sights! But I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.

The higher we climbed, the hazier it got and the more constant became the treacherous roads. No guard rails, no walls, not even a bit of earth beyond the lane in which you were driving. There was simply your lane of a two-lane road and the abyss. I’ve never been particularly afraid of heights, but the further we drove, the more rigid my body became in the driver seat. My ears started to ring in the silence of the car and my hands were vice-like on the steering wheel. What if my arms twitched and I ran us off the mountainside? What if one of the oncoming drivers spilled coffee and instigated a mass grave of cars and bodies in this valley off to the right? I don’t think I blinked at all after we hit the two-mile-high mark, my eyes were like saucers in my face straining to ensure I kept us on the road.

At some point, I realized my mother’s head was right next to mine. She was still technically sitting in her seat with the belt fastened, and yet she was hovering over the center console as far from her window as she could possibly be without sitting in my lap. I chuckled tensely, and said, “This isn’t good.”

“No, I don’t like it,” came her quick reply.

“Well, there isn’t anywhere to pull off to turn around and anyway we’ve gone too far now, it’ll be just as miserable going back that way. If we can just make it over the top and down the other side…”

She half groaned half grunted as we went around another curve. I was driving the speed limit, which was posted at 15 mph for those curves and yet there seemed to be a line of people behind me who wanted to barrel through and get where they were going already. Well, sucked to be them, because there was not a chance in hell I was speeding up and there was no way for them to get around me with oncoming traffic on one side and a 2-mile drop on the other. Settle in and enjoy the haze, people!

I flexed my fingers every once in a while, realizing how tense my grip on the wheel was becoming. Still, the elevation increased and the haze made it so you couldn’t see anything on either side of the road but white nothingness, which in my opinion made the fact that we were over two miles above sea level even worse. We could have been ten miles high. There was no way to tell. If we fell, we’d be falling forever in a white fog.

“SHE’LL BE COMIN’ ‘ROUND THE MOUNTAIN WHEN SHE COMES!” I suddenly burst into song. With nowhere to go, a ringing in my ears and my body stuck in that seated position for the last very tense two hours, singing seemed the best and only way to relieve some of my anxiety. I didn’t care whether my mother joined me but surprisingly she did. Together, we enthusiastically sang the few verses we could remember and when we couldn’t come up with anything else “she” might do when she came ‘round the mountain, I led us into a rather bold rendition of the national anthem.

After some time, we began to descend. “That was just horrible.” We’d volley the same line back and forth to each other, giving a different word emphasis each time. “THAT was just horrible.” “That was just HORRIBLE.” “That was just…horrible.” Slowly, trees began to appear on the mountainside between us and the abyss, and then the peak rose further and further above the road. We stopped to stretch our stiff limbs a few times when there happened to be a pull-off with ample room to maneuver until finally, we reached the bottom. My mother remarked that the views would probably have been spectacular on a clear day and perhaps she’s right. But knowing what I know about the ‘park loop’ in this particular national park…I don’t think I’ll be choosing to drive it again any time soon.