Colorful Colorado Camping.

Last we left off, I had just spent two nights in Aspen, Colorado. A lot has happened since then but I'll start there and end with yesterday morning. When I left Silverthorne last week, I had two options for how to get to Aspen. The first was to take the scenic route through Independence Pass and the second was to take highway 70 west and see some beautiful canyons but stay on the highway. As you can probably guess by now, I went with the former; I prefer scenic byways. In case you didn't know, in Colorado they have what are called passes. They are typically winding roads that cut through and over mountains with high elevation and are sometimes only open seasonally due to the insane amount of snow that accumulates on them during the winter. Unknown to me at the time, I happened to be one of the first to drive Independence Pass. The windy, rainy, and sometimes snowy drive wound around mountains and climbed higher and higher to the center point and the continental divide. Rising to an elevation of 12,095 ft., the pass cut through two national forests and changed from a steamy road with colorful foliage, to plowed paths cut out of what looked to be at least four feet of snow draped on the mountains, fresh tracks from snowboarders highlighted by the sun. Coming out and around the one lane bend, snow now melted with the descending altitude, bright green Aspen tree leaves covered the forest and contrasted the dark green pines poking their tops out above the rest. It certainly was a gorgeous drive. If it didn't take so long to get from point A to point B, and if I lived here of course, I would enjoy that drive all the time.

Aspen is a really beautiful town. Just like Breckenridge, where I last came from, it's a seasonal town and I was arriving just at the end of the off season, thank goodness. The slopes and gondola are literally right at Aspen's doorstep. You can pull up and park right there on main street where all the shops and hustle and bustle is happening, grab your gear out of your car and walk one block right onto the gondola. Pretty crazy. Aspen is quite literally at the base of the mountain which I loved seeing. It was unlike the other places I had been recently where the mountains were all around but still a ways in the distance, a dramatic backdrop to the quaint, colorful shops below. Alex and Rad were my couch surfing hosts Thursday and Friday and I had a blast staying with them. Being transplants themselves but having been in Aspen for a while, they knew everywhere to go and show me. Alex and I went to see the grottos in White River National Forest just outside Aspen on the pass and I am here to tell you, should you ever be in the area when the pass opens, go there immediately. This was by far one of the cooler things I've seen on this trip. The few days after the pass opens, the grottos, which were full of snow, are transformed into ice caves. They wind and twist, the rocks naturally curved and cut out creating an interesting tunnel effect, sunlight gleaming off the icicles now melting down into the grottos and leaving patterns on the rocks below. I loved looking up and seeing the way the moss grew in patches and polka dots along the opening above. The slippery, short climb up the solid ice was a bit tricky and freezing but totally worth it. Tall ice sculptures clung to the rocks, water dripping to a beat from above and slowly melting what remained into abstract creations. Carefully stepping here and there, the cave only got better as it went on. The way out was a little tricky. It was actually the same as the way in, only down. Always carrying my raincoat in my backpack, however, I figured it out pretty quickly. I used it as a sled and slid my way down the slightly curved ice luge ending in a chunk of snow that stopped me in my tracks. Interestingly enough, I actually went back here with a friend two days later and the remnants were completely different. I guess they weren't kidding when they said go as soon as the pass opens, it's probably almost completely melted by now. Stopping on the way back at Maroon Bells, the most photographed peaks in Colorado, and admiring the mountain resembling a snowy pyramid, I kept thinking how glad I was that I stayed another day. I think I mentioned it in my last post, but one thing I don't often experience is nightlife in a new place. At least weekend nightlife. It depends on where I am and who I am staying with, to be honest, so it was really awesome to have at least a small taste of Aspen's later that evening with Rad.

Let's rewind for one second so I can catch you up before I continue. Thursday night I met Aaron out at one of the two bars open in Aspen. No, by the way, there are not only two bars here, keep in mind it was still off season. Anyway, a friend of Rad and Alex's and originally from New York with a contagious smile, captivating personality, and great laugh, he was really interesting and fun to talk to. We decided that if I was still around Sunday I was going to go skiing with him for the day when they reopened the mountain for Memorial Day weekend. I didn't end up going skiing but I did end up sticking around to meet up with him. I had a few days to play around with so I figured, why not, where was I running to so quickly anyway. Saturday I used my day productively and drove about two hours away to the north rim of Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. Along the way, I stopped on the side of the road to photograph what I now know are coke ovens but if I had to guess at the time, looked like pizza ovens built into the earth. Fun fact, Redstone originally only existed because of these coke ovens. Built in the late 1800s to carbonize or "coke", hence the name, coal mined nearby, they were constructed from old firebrick and now have plants growing out of them due to their inactivity. They were a fun find on the side of 133 south, that and the very beautiful Hays Falls just a little further down the road. I also, as luck may have it, met someone new on my drive that day who showed me the town of Marble. I'm not kidding, there is actually marble everywhere there; on the side of the road, all throughout the quarry, everywhere. A lot of marble used in National Monuments comes from this small, dead end, off-the-grid town. There are a few marble sculpture artist's galleries on the main street and I ended up stopping in one, meeting a local artist, learning a bit about the process, and buying a small piece of marble as a souvenir. For one dollar, I like that so much more than a postcard.

I've been in and out service the past few days camping and after three nights in a row of stargazing in various places, all with the familiar sound of a babbling brook to fall asleep to, I am really happy to have a shower readily accessible. Other than that, I would have kept camping. I ended up meeting Aaron Saturday night and over the past few days we've gone from setting up camp in pitch darkness in Snowmass along one of the, now dry, ski slopes ironically and appropriately named Campground, to setting up with almost too much time to spare in the beautiful campgrounds of White River National Forest. Each time the meals, which by the way I had nothing to do with, continued to get better and more impressive considering the small burners we had and really culminated once we decided to cook over the fire our third night. Shoutout to anyone who has ever made breakfast crepes while camping before or at least tried it. After watching Aaron attempt it, I can tell you all that it's hard to master but easy to enjoy and really delicious. Setting up camp in the dark is definitely not ideal, and I swear, I thought to myself a few times how ridiculous the idea was on my way there. Partially because I'm afraid of the dark, and mostly because we drove down the most pot hole covered dirt road I think I've ever taken Bertha on for I can't even tell you how long. It felt like forever but Aaron seemed determined to pick the perfect place. I certainly wasn't going to pick where we camped and I loved that he wanted to show me somewhere awesome that I would enjoy, how on earth could I say no to that? I couldn't. So, Bertha, Aaron and I trucked our way to a campsite along the side of a creek, pitched a tent, and enjoyed, trying not to think about anything that could be lurking in the darkness around me.

Sunday, like I said before, was not spent skiing; at least not on my part. Arron went snowboarding and I went for a hike on Hunter Creek Trail. I ended up hiking with a very lovely couple, Jill and Mike, and their energetic and adorable dog, Grizzly. Originally from Pennsylvania, Jill and I talked about our love of Wawa and the three of us hiked across a waterfall, through rocky paths, Aspen trees, and out into a meadow, the mountains popping up the distance. They were really interested in couch surfing and how it works and it was sort of cool explaining it. I enjoy talking about the amazing people I've met so far and hearing them discuss how much they'd enjoy hosting. Hopefully they do become hosts so if any of you decide to take a trip like mine you can stay with them in Aspen and find out for yourself how great they are. They so kindly offered me a place to stay that night, having only known me for the better part of three hours, which I don't even think they realized how much I appreciated. Camping won out, as I'm sure you knew it would, and dinner, the amazing stars and even better company were once again worth the lack of shower.

Deciding last minute not to ski Monday either, Aaron and I ventured over McClure pass towards Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park yet again. The scenic route was so beautiful and so different than Independence Pass. My favorite view was shaded with different greens from various tree species, a house below and small lakes here and there that looked like puddles from the vantage point we had, the road winding along the side of the forest. After more camping, wandering in the woods, and a delicious meal over the fire, the next day we headed to the National Park. Black Canyon is one of those places that you truly cannot imagine until you're there. Having already been to the north rim a day or two before, I was eager to see the south rim Tuesday. The Gunnison river flows at the bottom of the gorge at a rate 95 feet per mile. From the top of the steep canyon walls you can hear the roar of the water clear as day, I can't even imagine how it sounds when you're down there, it must be deafening. Ranging from 1,750 ft. deep at the Narrows to 2,700 ft. deep at the northernmost point of the gorge, the narrowest point of the canyon floor is only about 40 ft. wide, the same width as the visitor's center, fun fact. The rocks that make up the canyon walls vary in shape from square and stacked to long and cascading, trees grow in every nook and cranny they can get a root into, and each overlook gazes out onto a new picture perfect postcard view. A purple haze falling over the distant mountains and multicolored rocks, I stepped out to the edge, an uneasy feeling coming over me as I stared down below and then across to the other side. Whooshing noises came from every direction as White-throated swifts and Violet-green swallows swooped in and out of the canyon. There is so much thermal heat between the canyon walls that I'd bet they barely have to flap their wings more than once. These little lightning fast birds are masters of flight with their quick mid-air turns and acrobatics; a spectacular sight. Chirping in my ear, I looked up and noticed the light lines prancing across the painted wall in front of me like leaping antelope trying to get from one side of the canyon to the other. I loved looking out onto the faded horizon, wondering how many hikers were below me along the river doing the same.

I've learned on this trip to be more in the moment than ever before. Thinking ahead or wondering what may be, dreaming up hypotheticals; that's easy. It's much harder to stay in the here and now. I like it though. That way, when I meet someone that leaves an impression on me it's easy to stay a bit longer and enjoy myself, rather than have every day planned and have to run out the door. Last week I had no idea what I was going to do or where I was going to stay for Memorial Day weekend but it worked out better than I ever thought it would, sticking around was the best decision I've made recently. I'll be back some day soon, that's for sure. Today, however, I will be venturing into my 21st state - Arizona. I see one more national park on my way out of Colorado and then meet my brother, Thatcher, in Flagstaff later this afternoon. He's joining me for the remainder of my trip and I can't wait to see the rest of this gorgeous country with my favorite person by my side.

'Til next time,
- G.

The Photo:
Aaron birdwatching at the painted wall.
Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park.
Montrose, Colorado.
5/30/17.