Rocky Mountain National Park

When I first saw the Rocky Mountains I thought they were a band of dark blue clouds in the distance. Only my location (Colorado) and direction (west) confirmed my vision: up ahead must be the longest U.S. mountain range. I didn’t freak out like I thought I would at the sight of peaks over twice the height of the eastern giants —Mount Mitchell in NC at 6,684’ and Mount Washington in NH at 6,288’—my breath wouldn’t be taken away until the next morning. For the moment, the mountains were the first peaks I’d seen since the White Mountains in New Hampshire a week earlier.

I drove into Estes Park, CO. The road to town winds through a narrow, tall canyon. For most of the drive the mountain range is obscured, and the result is that once I popped out on the western end of the canyon I could appreciate the proximity of the largest mountains I’ve yet to see in my life. I camped at a county park on the eastern side of town. The National Park rises up on the western side, fifteen minutes away.

I’d like to take a moment and share the true experience of traveling, and living in a van. My first stop in Estes Park was the auto shop. My brake sensor light had come on at some point in Nebraska. All of the shops in Omaha were booked into the following week, so I looked ahead and made an appointment with a shop in Estes (This sensor light is an indication that the brakes will need to be replaced soon. I wasn’t careening through canyons on dead brakes). I wasn’t first in line for the mechanic’s attention, parts had to be ordered, and a bolt broke which meant another part had to be driven up from Denver, so about half of my time in Colorado has been spent at the auto shop. I feel a future blog post about what it’s like to have your house in a car shop for two days.

With the problem diagnosed on Sunday, I was ready to see the park on Monday while parts were ordered.

cloud cover at lower elevations

Rocky Mountain National park, among a few others, has instituted a timed entry reservation requirement for the park. This is a result of continued Covid precautions and unprecedented visitation numbers. This means that to enter the park you must purchase a park pass (as always) and reserve a time slot to enter the park (time slots are windows of two hours).

I was ready to encounter this thanks to a conversation with a friend of mine who is a ranger in Acadia National Park. He warned me, but also shared his perspective on why the parks have chosen to implement such a reservation system. Due to staff shortages, and increasing amount of visitors, the parks are at a point where they must mitigate demand in light of ecological impact and the ratio of staff to visitors (Getting into the numbers briefly, in 2019 Rocky Mountain National Park received 4,670,054 visitors. I found a quick stat that in 2018 the park had 386 employees (only 149 are permanent/term). That means if the staffing stayed the same for every 1 staff member there are 12,098 visitors).

The park website mentions the increased number of visitors:

“In 2020, Rocky Mountain National Park was the fourth most visited national park in the country with a 28 percent increase in visitation in November and a 38 percent increase in visitation in December over those months in 2019.”

I plan on expanding on this in a future post, with more thorough research (and math). The point I’m trying to get to now is that I woke up at 5am on Monday morning so I could enter the park without a timed entry pass before 6am. The previous night I’d logged onto my computer frantically at 5pm—pulled over at a rest stop on I-80—only to watch all of the limited reservations disappear while I attempted my (incorrect) password for the third time.

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When I’m in the mountains, anywhere near them, getting up early becomes easier. The opportunity to explore a new place gets me out of bed. Early morning fog and clouds swirled through the trees as I drove into the park. Trail Ridge road wound up from meadows to subalpine forests. I could see Ponderosa pines (which smell like butterscotch) , aspens and wildflowers but the vistas were completely obscured.

I parked at a viewpoint hoping that the sun would soon burn off the clouds. I could sense the expanse in front of me; a yawning grandeur was palpable behind the clouds, but they did not break. Cars were driving past with increasing frequency: the timed entry period had begun. I decided to keep driving. Around the next bend I spotted a patch of blue sky, but the clouds were not breaking. I was rising above them.

view from Trail Ridge Road

Peaks at 10,000’ - 12,000’+ elevation rose around me. Above the clouds it was a clear sky. The morning sun illuminated everything: rocky crags cupping snow, mountainsides covered in alpine grasses, conifers cascading into meadows.

At one viewpoint I turned around and saw that Estes Park and everything in the valley was blanketed by clouds. The top of the park was another dimension, removed and separate. I drove to the Alpine visitor center. There I bought postcards and walked up a side peak to stand at 12,005’ elevation. I walked slowly because I was out of breath. I must not have acclimated completely to this new level.

View of Estes Park and Longs Peak in the distance, from Kruger Rock

Most national parks don’t allow dogs on trail, and Rocky Mountain National Park is included in that list. Luckily, conservation is a group effort; there are national forests and wilderness areas—which usually allow dogs— bordering RMNP. I use an app called All Trails to find trails based on my location. For the next two days Sadie and I hiked in the surrounding Roosevelt National Forest.

After dealing with the van’s brake replacement I wanted to find a trail close by. Kruger Rock trail (photo above) started in the campground. After over a week of driving across the country it felt wonderful to be able to wake up and hike right from the van. I’ve begun a daily yoga, reading and writing ritual as well. This was my favorite morning so far on this journey.

Post hike it was back to the car shop! A part that was supposed to be delivered was not. Replacement was pushed off yet again, so I set out to hike a second trail for the day. Lily Mountain is only ten minutes from Estes and was short enough to squeeze into the last hours of daylight. Two more minutes down the road brought me to Lake Lily (photo below). Instead of finding a shower in town, I took a dip in the lake instead.

Lily Lake

As of this post, the brakes have been replaced on the van. Once again I am free to go.

I tallied up the hours I waited in the car shop and it came to 15 hours. The mechanics did their best with the uncontrollable obstacles that came up. Admittedly I was frustrated and discouraged for a good portion of those hours. At one point the owner, Mohamed, came up to me to chat. He envied the amount of “chill” time I was getting. I didn’t feel that way. I was missing out on hiking and exploring. I emitted some sort of polite response right as his phone began to ring. Then he left to tend to more business.

It’s true, my plans for the Rockies did not happen as I envisioned. I spent way too much time in the lobby of an auto shop. But the space had wifi, and friendly staff that gave me apples, coffee and water. I read a lot, I worked on blog writing that I get paid for, I even wrote this post.

I have a tendency to plan and execute, and then make backup plans—just in case. I’m not sure I would have written this post, done work, or finished half a book. I most likely would have been caught up in trying to hike another trail, checking my trip itinerary and planning out drive time. Being forced to take time showed me how much I would not have made time for otherwise.

Here is a truth-telling moment: the van is finished, it’s waiting outside of the shop right now, ready to go. But I’m still inside. I’m making sure I finish this before I rush off to the next thing.