Chronicles of Roadtripping
The actual speed of light is slower than the time it took for my three children to grow up, but somehow they did. Sliding into this empty nest phase of life has been quite the adjustment, but I think I’ve finally started to make peace with it. With this newfound peace came the realization that my husband and I can take off on spontaneous travel adventures whenever we want, work permitting, of course. I have to admit, it’s a pretty nice perk of being an empty nester. So, this fall, we struck out on a road trip to Colorado.
If I’m being honest, this trip, being our first big journey with no children, was a bit awkward for the first couple of hours on the road. There were no fights to break up in the back seat, no 100 pounds of snack trash being thrown on the floor, and no eyes rolled at our unparalleled parental musical choices provided by SiriusXM and the Hair Nation channel. There was also no sound of the best laughter I’ve ever heard coming from the back seat. It was extremely quiet with no kids. As silly as it sounds, it took the two of us a few hours to warm up to traveling without worrying about the needs of those we reproduced. However, after the initial awkwardness wore off, we settled in well and embraced the idea of just enjoying each other’s company, the spontaneity, and the open road.
Chris (the husband) and I are different in almost every way, including, but not limited to, what we each want to glean from a trip. He has a deep, innate need for adventure. I’m the boring one who is all about what I can learn about the history of a particular place. We’ve always humored each other and try to pack a little of both into our trips to satisfy each of us.The things I’ve done for the sake of that man’s dauntless spirit… Lord help me. More on that later. Anyway, we found ourselves in Idaho Springs, Colorado. It’s a town of about 1,700 people in the northeastern part of the state and was the site of Colorado’s first substantial gold discovery. The town is quaint, and the main street looks like it could be right out of a Hallmark movie. There are clear, flowing creeks almost always within earshot. Waterfalls decorate the side of the mountains, and friendly merchants are quick to share the history of the gold rush that put Idaho Springs on the map. It really is dreamy.
Because I love exploring a random town, my husband and I soon found ourselves meandering down a walkway that was literally right under I-70. That’s the interstate highway that runs through Idaho Springs. The walkway borders a very aptly named Clear Creek. The creek is beautiful and naturally decorated with fallen mountain rocks. There were people fishing for trout and kids standing barefoot in the cold (really cold) creek water. As if to feed the history buff in me, there was also a bronze bust and plaque dedicated to an old gold miner named Charlie Tayler. The memorial sits right across the creek from a stunning waterfall and the wooden waterwheel Mr. Tayler built. Reading the onsite informational sign and, of course, doing a personal deep-dive online, I found that Mr. Tayler was a successful gold miner who built the waterwheel in 1893. He did so to power his five-stamp gold mine, which crushed the rock to extract the gold. The entire operation happened on Ute Creek, yet another creek flowing through the town. After Charlie Tayler’s death in 1939, the waterwheel was donated by his estate and eventually moved to its present Clear Creek location in 1946. As a tourist, I have to say that the sight of the wooden water wheel in front of the waterfall and its history was both fascinating and appealing.
Just to throw another interesting factoid into the Charlie Tayler story, I couldn’t help but read on the plaque that he attributed his good health to the fact that he never bathed or kissed women. Several online accounts confirmed this and said that he never shaved, either. We’re talking about a real mountain man, but this is where my deep dive ended because, apparently, nobody bothered to gather any more information from Charlie about his hygiene habits, or lack thereof. Of course, my curious mind immediately jumped to all the questions, many of which I asked aloud as our road trip continued. My husband just looked at me and shook his head. I mean, did Charlie ever even brush his teeth? Forget good health. Was the real reason he never kissed women because he never bathed? That had to be a turn-off, even to tough, rugged, 19th-century mountain women, right? My list of questions on this subject is endless.
After being completely grossed out by an unsanitary gold miner, our trip took us to Lake City, CO. My husband’s new truck has many off-road capabilities, and he was itching to see what it could do. Lake City was where the Alpine Loop Trail began. Cinnamon Pass and Engineer Pass were our goals for that day; both were about 12,000 feet in elevation. Remember when I mentioned the adventurous lengths I’d go to for the father of my children? Well, this is that part. Access to the aforementioned mountain passes requires a four-wheel drive, high-clearance vehicle. My husband was determined that his new ZR2 Chevy Colorado would get the job done. “It’s what this truck is made for,” he assured me. He was right. Impressively, the truck got the job done and done well. It handled the mountain trails just as well as all the other ATVs we passed on the mountain. My blood pressure only went to stroke level a few times when the view out of my passenger window was that of a several thousand-foot drop straight off the side of the mountain. Other than that, it was awesome! The majesty and grandeur of the Rocky Mountains were on full display. Between the landscape and the thin air, our Northeast Texas breaths were totally taken away.
Chris and I planned ahead and stocked an ice chest full of water, sandwich stuff, and snacks. When we made it to the top of Cinnamon Pass, we parked the truck and sat on the tailgate to eat lunch. We laughed because at 12,640 feet above sea level, we were literally out of breath just eating a sandwich. While enjoying the spectacular view with our breathtaking sandwiches, a couple approached us on foot. They were a young couple who introduced themselves as William and Emma. They politely asked for a ride to their tent, which was pitched in an old ghost town called Animas Fork, just over the mountain pass. I came to find out that the couple had set out from Animas Fork two days before and were going to hike to the other side of the mountain with every intent of hiking back to their tent on the same day. When they made it to the other side of the mountain, both of them got serious altitude sickness and were unable to go any further. I’m talking about the vomiting, dehydrating kind of altitude sickness. Another couple passed William and Emma on the trail and managed to get them off the mountain and into a lodge so that they could recuperate overnight. The next day, William and Emma mustered up the strength to begin hiking back to their tent. They even made a hitchhiker sign asking for a ride, hoping someone would pick them up. Unfortunately, there were no takers. With three rotten bananas and little water, they asked if we could take them to their tent. They had no idea how long they’d been walking that day. Chris and I quickly offered them food and water and told them we would happily give them a ride to their camp. You would have thought that we’d given them a million dollars.
During the ride to their tent in the old ghost town, we learned that William was an electrical engineer originally from Atlanta, GA, but had just recently moved to Los Angeles for work purposes. Emma was also from Atlanta, GA, an auditor for tomato farms. I’m not sure what that entails, but I love tomatoes. Chris mentioned we were from Atlanta, TX, and William said, “I know exactly where that is!” A few years ago, on a cross-country bicycle ride from Georgia to San Francisco, the fitness guru rode through the Texas version of Atlanta. Small world!
We dropped the young couple off at their tent and vehicle. They were excited and grateful to be “home.” Of course, we had to document the occasion with a picture, complete with their handmade hitchhiking sign. We hugged our new friends and parted ways. Only hours later, we realized we didn’t get last names. It didn’t matter. We’d helped a guy named William and a girl named Emma get to the other side of the mountain, and we were glad to do it. In some small way, it felt like redemption. Chris and I had felt like we were missing our young adult children on this trip. By chance, we got to help someone else’s young adult children when they really needed it. I love how God puts us right where we need to be, exactly when we need to be there, even at 12,000 feet.
The splendor of the Rockies was truly a sight to behold. By going out of my comfort zone and yielding to my husband’s adventurous spirit, I was able to see spectacular views that could never be seen from the highway. Pictures don’t even do justice to the untouched, natural beauty from deep within those mountains. I don’t know that Chris enjoyed the history of the gold miners and the ghost towns as much as I did, but we do agree that being able to help two weary strangers to the other side of the mountain may have been worth it all. Oh…just one more thing because it’s been on my heart since we returned from Colorado. Please take a bath if you want to kiss a woman.
