Off Roading

At the suggestion of our friendly concierge, Tammy and I decided to take a "short cut" to Rocky Mountain National Park.

He convinced us it was much shorter even though it was an unpaved remote road over a mountain pass. I thought about taking the more conventional route and then decided that we should definitely go for the adventure.

We were not disappointed - in fact, this little mountain road was not only like a picture postcard of Colorado, it was like a slice of mountain life: the life I think about when I'm daydreaming about being a serious backpacker. Some women are obsessed with cute baby clothes. I have a secret passion for outdoor clothing...I think I want to pretend that I'm hard core. Oh, to be that cool person in North Face clothing, no make-up, talking nonchalantly about melting snow to make my coffee and bathing in a mountain stream.

Whatever the case, this road was idyllic in many ways. Firstly, we were bumping down a washboard gravel road, the colorado river sliding along far below us. We passed a rafting center, mud-splashed vans with huge luggage racks parked askew on a green field, blue rafts nestled on a rocky shore. We passed an abandoned log cabin set against a stand of silvery aspens, a long alpine meadow, dark with reeds and speckled with blue flowers. Die-hard cyclists were clinging to the cliff face as we passed through a deep ravine. Towering in the distance like the purple mountain peaks of middle earth were the Rockies themselves.

It was all over too quickly, and I made mental notes to come back - or at least to jump at the chance to take another side route next time.

Next on the list was Rocky Mountain National Park. Satisfyingly, we saw a herd of elk within the first five minutes of our entrance to the park. Tammy and I had hoped to have a European picnic with brie cheese and french bread, salami, etc. She had just gotten it set out at a little campground with a grand view of a meadow and mountain pass when a rain shower started. It went from sunny one minute to hailing the next, with Tam and the five children and I scrambling for shelter in the over hang of the outhouses. Lunch was no less of a success for all the weather. The kids loved it, and we munched on our brie in the company of a group of hikers who were returning from a backpacking trip...all stuffed into the 10 square feet of shelter outside of the toilets.

At the top of Trail Ridge road, our heads pounding with the elevation, we met up with Matt and Krista and their two kids. It was an impressive vista, mountains stretching outward in every direction, a glittering snow field in a semi-circle at the head of a plunging crevasse. In true Kathleen form, I was immediately homesick for somewhere else - in this case, Austria. I was still subconsciously looking around for the Spätzle when we loaded the kids in the car to descend on the breathtaking route toward Estes Park.

For months I have been looking forward to showing my kids the alpine region above the timber line, the pikas, the marmots, the delicate alpine flowers that enchanted me as a child. Some things surpass your expectations and some things just fall by the wayside. I would like to say that my kids lived up to my dreams for the day, but our alpine hike was a total flop. All the other kids had a great time, but Vera and Fiona spent the entire hike to the top of the mountain in tears; Fiona because she was tired, Vera because she had hurt feelings from the boys. With sobering thoughts of future teenage years, Clementine crying in the front pack, Fiona dragging on my left hand, I tried to salvage the situation. "Look at the beautiful blue flowers!", I said, "can you hear the pika's chirping to one another?" It was a lost cause, and only resulted in more tears. Well, you can't win them all, and I knew when I was beat. I guess a picnic in a hailstorm is cool enough for a crowd of pre-schoolers anyway. And we'll be in Austria soon enough...I hope. And we saw a herd of Bighorn Sheep on our way down, so that was good enough for me.