I remember hearing George Strait sing “Baby Blue” when I was in high school. Something about those lyrics, “Blue like the Colorado skies,” always got me in the feels, as my kids would say.
I didn’t really know what that meant; I had never been to Colorado.
When I was researching colleges and saw that two of my top selections for my major were in Colorado and Wyoming, it was a no-brainer. Sight unseen, that is were I was going. Sorry, not sorry, Cornell.
I don’t regret that move for a second. I’m a little sad that I moved away after eight wonderful, though hard, years. I can’t regret all the friends I’ve made and experiences I’ve had since, especially when I can return regularly for vacations.
Sigh. It’s almost like going home, except better. (Sorry, Mom and Dad.)
In Colorado, I can explore, be a way from people, remind myself of what I like best about myself, commune with God and nature.
The last few times we’ve visited, my husband and I have taken our kids with, tried to show them why we love the wilderness.
This year, we had to make a difficult decision. We planned to go to Idaho in August for our annual vacation, but that would have meant my husband flying one way and many hotel rooms coming and going.
We all know 2020 had different plans. By May, we decided Idaho was a lost cause for this year. We also knew that while we did not want to take a nasty virus to our favorite rural towns, we needed to escape the city and explore the wilderness for a bit.
We decided to visit my favorite place in the entire world, a beautiful mountain valley in the central mountains. We packed almost all our food and were the only ones wearing masks at gas stations and the two hotels we stopped at.
With a bit of anxiety, we visited friends. We stopped at a hot spring outside of Aspen to show the kids how they just gurgle up. No stopping or even swimming allowed. Forest rangers shooed us away, but not before I got a few pictures.
We visited three ghost towns and searched for a fourth that appears to have disintegrated in the 20 years since I last visited it.
At the top of Independence Pass, between Aspen and Leadville, my husband and boys hiked a bit. An ankle injury prevented me from going far, but gave me the opportunity to take photos of minuscule alpine flowers.
We dispersed camped in two different national forests. I love dispersed camping, but at least one of my children decided he does not. There are a few rules to follow when disperse camping. You must be so far from roads and water. You have to provide your own water. You also need to dig your own toilet.
However, usually, you don’t have to share your area with anyone else. In the good old days, 20 years ago, my favorite valley was a well-hidden secret. I knew it wouldn’t be any longer, so we timed our stay between Monday and Friday. Monday afternoon, we had a huge area to choose a campsite. By noon on Thursday, our area was filling up to the point that it was tough to find any privacy. We waved goodbye at 9 a.m. Friday, thankful to escape the crowd.
Nothing stays the same, does it?
I’m glad we made the trip. Staying isolated is easy in the wilderness, much more difficult even in the small towns when others aren’t as concerned about a virus as you are.
Who knows when we’ll have the opportunity to go again? I hope we can aim for Idaho next year, but I suspect that Idaho will be out of reach for the next several years.
I, and several friends, miss international travel this year.
The wilderness beckons.
Travel safe. Watch out for one another.