Being in Denver, we felt compelled to visit Rocky Mountain National Park on an off day, so we set out early to do just that! Along the way, we visited the Pearl Street Mall in Boulder to explore the local shops. One store we stopped at was the Boulder Bookstore, where Olivia purchased a notebook, a copy of Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar, and a set of beautiful notecards. It was an excellent bookstore, and I am sure we all wished we had more time to explore it.
Nearby, we saw the Boulder County Court House, a building designed in the art deco style.
Finally, to prepare for our trip, we went to a local market in Lyons called St. Vrain Market, Deli, and Bakery. At the deli, we picked up sandwiches to enjoy on the mountain.
Rocky Mountain National Park
by Olivia Discon
The trails were a patchwork of ice and untouched snow, the lakes frozen over into eerie stillness. A single blue Stellar’s jay flitted between bare branches, watching us with the kind of judgment only nature can provide.
Rocky Mountain National Park in winter is a mix of beauty and betrayal.
The meadows stretched wide and open, peaceful and quiet under the weight of the season.
Trails wove through icy patches and steep layers of snow. Every step was a guessing game—solid ground or sudden sinkhole?
We crunched through the meadows, the wind howling low across the open expanse, until we reached the rocks.
That’s when things escalated.
Professor Yawn and I decided, in our infinite wisdom, that we should climb them. Not just once. Not just some rocks. No, we scaled rock faces like mountain goats who had lost all sense of self-preservation.
One climb turned into another, and before we knew it, we were standing at a questionable height, looking out over the vastness of the park.
And that’s when we heard it.
A faint, disembodied voice from below.
It was Chrissy.
From where we stood, she was just a tiny figure, barely visible, shouting up at us as if we had ascended into some divine realm. The wind carried our voices down to her, but to her ears, it must have sounded like the echoes of gods speaking from the mountaintops. We, of course, did not correct this perception.
“Chrissy, we see all,” I replied, as if we had unlocked some kind of mountain-wisdom. “We are everywhere and nowhere.”
She was not impressed. But she did eventually find her way up.
And we were able to share in the beautiful views.
We eventually made our way back down, the snow still unpredictable beneath our feet, the air crisp and unforgiving.
But it was as beautiful as it was unforgiving.
And we explored that beauty by circling the perimeter of Sprague Lake (on the East side of the Park, where it was much snowier)….
…where we witnesses to a proposal!
The winds were brutal, but the scenery was just compensation.
And we ultimately enjoyed our time on the Lake–so much so that we decided to go to another!
The Brutality – Scenery tension was a bit more on the side of Brutality at Bear Lake. The snows were deeper, so much so that the trail was indiscernible, except for the occasional signs that were almost buried in the snow.
Few people were on the trails, for good reason.
But we ventured on, trudging through the snow, around rocks, and even on the frozen lake!
It was quite a different experience than we were accustomed to in Texas on spring break.
As we made additional forays into the park, we made additional discoveries, such as deer (we ended up seeing almost 50).
On one case, when returning to the van, Stephanie interjected, saying, “Moose. Don’t step any further.”
Little did we know, there were two of them—the first that Chrissy and I had ever seen.
They moved through the trees, pausing only to munch on whatever food they could find amidst the snow. Later, on our drive out, we saw even more moose, casually grazing along the roadside. Professor Yawn and Chrissy, feeling adventurous, hopped out to get closer for photos. Stephanie and I, however, stayed in the car, content with admiring from a safe (and smart) distance.
Despite the unpredictability of nature, we thoroughly enjoyed Rocky Mountain National Park.
It became, by a wide margin, our favorite National Park experience. It was immediately understood why painters and romantic poets expressed the sense of awe provided by America’s vast and inspiring landscape.
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