"Just for a moment, she thought what almost all travelers on that road think when they break through the pines and behold the great vista before them: I will live here."
-Luis Alberto Urrea, Into the Beautiful North
I will admit that was not the thought that came to mind as I wound out of Aspen and down the death-defying State Highway 82. As I slowly released my grip on the steering wheel and settled back into my seat, I gazed upon the Arkansas River Valley and thought what a considerable percentage of travelers on that road think when they get their cars down off of sheer cliff faces and onto solid ground: I'm never driving that fucking road again in my life.
That does not, of course, negate any of the beauty of the drive, but I am afraid I have no proof of such beauty.
I didn't take any pictures.
To do so would have meant certain death.
But if you can imagine quivering gold and black aspen and deep green pines growing straight out of boulders older than humanity, perhaps you can imagine the splendor of Colorado's own State Highway 82, not featured in this blog.
It was nearing sunset when the dog and I reached our camping destination: a forest road off the docile Highway 24, some miles south of the town of Leadville.
It was pouring down rain.
It rained all night.
Hard.
Fortunately, my car is my tent.*
*this is not a subaru ad
Even more fortunately, I had hot chocolate, a warm dog, internet, and a good night's sleep.
By dawn the downpour had waned into an intermittent spittle. The air was crisp and cold and clear, and the mountains I had nearly died on the evening prior were now covered in snow.
I'm fairly certain this is part of Mt. Massive.. I am completely uncertain as to which peak of the massive mountain this is.
But I bet 
And mountains could give a shit what we call them, anyway.
EDIT: this is Mt. Elbert.
Thanks brandt!
Pilot and I took some time to explore the area near where we camped.
Oh hey look, 
The ground here was so beautiful. Desert-like, but with a vibrance and softness to it not found in the harsh desert environments where I grew up.
I like to keep a little of the earth of a place that moves me, but I forgot this time. I did collect some Colorado soil a bit further north, but it wasn't the same.
Guess I'll have to go back some day.
After exploring on foot, Pilot and I made use of the AWD so as to further lose ourselves in the woods.
At one point along the dirt road I stopped to watch a deer grazing on a ridge on the other side of a canyon. He was at least half a mile away, but when he saw my car, he startled. With a flash of white he disappeared into the woods.
I am an intruder.
I'd just spent the last day pumping the toxic exhaust of dozens of gallons of fossil fuels into the delicate atmosphere. Fossil fuels mined from equally delicate parts of the earth. All so I could trundle through the pine forests of the Colorado Wilderness and frighten a deer.
Should I be here?
But here I was.
We descended into the canyon.
Attempts to get lost failed and we eventually found ourselves back on the asphalt road.
And back on State Highway 24.
We headed north to the town of Leadville, which had a beautiful view, not to mention a very nice restroom in the Safeway.*
*Sorry, no picture of the Safeway restroom.
Having thoroughly planned this trip out, I googled nearby parks, hemmed and hawed over the options, then said fuckit and wandered south again on the 24 looking for things that interested me and the dog.
This was some kind of miniature ghost town.
It would be neat to know the story behind it.
Everything along the highway was worth stopping to ogle.
Aspen groves oozed like lava down the ravines of mountain slopes.
I took us onto another dirt road to take a closer look.
The hills are aflame with fall.
We went as far as south as Buena Vista (the end of the highway), then turned around and headed north again.
These are good rocks.
They would have been better if they'd had some mountain goats on them.
Maybe they did, but they weren't for me to see.
We spent some time getting to know the Arkansas River.
Not enough time.
There was so much more to discover.
But it was nice to meet her.
There were many paths to the river.
Damn, Colorado.
You really got this autumn thing down.
I think yellow is her favorite color.
The earth here was good, too. I kept some rocks. I've been sniffing them since I've been home. They smell like dust and snow.
They help keep the memory fresh.
Time was not in abundance on this journey. Had it been, we could easily have spent the entire day with this river.
We said goodbye.
And headed north.
SH-24 of course wasn't the only place that we saw.
In order exit a place you drove into, you must, of course, drive out.
I had plans to camp at a second spot in a northerly region of the state, so I headed that direction, making a detour to see some Rocky Mountains.
I'm not sure if I was supposed to see them here...
Much of the ride through the area where the Rocky Mountains live was stormy and cold. While driving, a peak revealed itself to me from within its cozy cloud comfort.
I gasped.
My mind scrambled for the poetry in which to capture the moment.
Coors cans insult these graceful and noble earthbeasts.*
*Hey we can't all be Robert Frost.
I pulled off the highway. I considered walking around and waiting for another sunbreak, but it was blustery and snowy, not a sure thing, and my travel buddy wasn't feeling it.
Another time, Pilot.
Much to my surprise, we did get to drive through the guts of Rockies.*
*This is the Eisenhower Tunnel.
You can look it up on YouTube if you want to see the drive through.
Not at all to my surprise, there were other pretty scenes in which to partake once we got past the storm.
There was also the freakishly touristy town of Georgetown, where I stopped to pee. Too many people. Too windy. Too many things to buy. No photos other than this train.
Probably a fun place to take the kids, if you have some.
We continued along the road.
Much to my sentimental delight (I am a very sentimental person), we found ourselves in the land that is the headwaters of the Colorado River.
In place far away, where I grew up, I drank this water. I bathed in this water.
I lived close to where this river empties into the sea.
If only I could put a note in a little boat and sail it down the river into the past to my younger self.
What would I say to her?
We found another backroad nearby where we could stretch our legs and play crazy monkey.
And admire the view.
I think this is Granby.
They call Portland the City of Roses. Am I home?
No, I can't be. There are no crows.
At the close of the day we stopped at a lake in the Arapaho National Wildlife Refuge.
The landscape here was stark in comparison to the lush autumnal beauty we had taken in that morning.
Still beautiful, though.
Warmer.
Drier.
Full of footprints and future fossils.
A good place to stretch out your long little dogie.
Rain was in the forecast that night for the camping destination. I considered the pleasantries of making dinner and toilet in a chilly downpour in a wilderness where I didn't know what kind of wildlife or people lurked. I opted instead to shave some hours off the trip home with a little night driving and a crash at a Wyoming rest stop. A lucky decision, considering the river of rain we drove through that night.
Goodnight, faraway place.
Until next time.
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