A Utah Family Travel Writer's Adventures with Altitude
Last week started out with mountain biking in glorious 80-degree temperatures at Community Ditch in Boulder.
Trust Boulder to have a ditch that looks this gorgeous.
The next day, it was upper-50s biking Standley Lake.
And then came the big cooldown–a 50-degree drop since Monday.
Hiking a much different scene at Standley Lake.
To this place today while Denver has yet another snowstorm.
Goal: R&R.
See you next week!
Part of trying to connect on a deeper level is taking a step back and looking at who needs TLC.
Hadley is one of them.
I’ve always had a deep connection with Bode but have to work harder with Hadley. Though we’re both independent, adventurous spitfires, we speak a very different love language. Bode and I are snugglers. Hadley is not physical but I’m slowly learning her “love language” is spending quality time together.
We haven’t had any meaningful one-on-one time since school started.
So, on Saturday morning, I announced Hadley and I were having a girl afternoon. The boys would go to Bode’s soccer game (another three goals–yay!) and the girls would hike Lookout Mountain in Golden.
I’ve probably hiked Lookout Mountain a hundred times, half of them were carrying my babies and the other half solo. I thought I knew the nuances of every bend in the trail.
Until I hiked it with my 7-year-old daughter.
I love hiking for a number of reasons that include beauty and fresh air but I’m in it for the workout when I’m alone. While Hadley kept a fast clip, she reminded me of what it means to stop and smell the roses.
That means applauding the squirrels as they launch across their forested trapeze and scaling every random rock wall she could find.
Finding perfect perches to howl at the moon abyss.
And stopping to marvel at the view at the summit.
My sad confession: I’ve always enjoyed the view but have never been absolutely blown away by its beauty until I saw it through my little girl’s eyes.
There is a very kid-friendly nature center at the top and I suggested we eat our snacks over there to get out of the wind. She looked over at the crowded parking lot, wrinkled her nose and pointed to a bluff overlooking the mountains.
“There’s too many cars and people over there. I want to look at the beautiful view and then go to the nature center,” she said.
Mini-Me.
Thinking back upon it now, I can’t even remember what we talked about but we babbled non-stop. It’s amazing how a whole lot of nothings amount to something wonderful.
We stopped at Cold Stone ice cream and as we drove home, Hadley pensively said: “That was an awesome girl day, Mommy. We need to do that more often.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Remember when I blogged about my friend Lisa’s sons wreaking havoc on my sweet Bode?
Wednesday, I had payback when I dragged her up my favorite secret hike.
Though with views like that of snow-covered 14,264-ft Mt. Evans it’s an iffy attempt at payback.
I’ll keep working on it.
Missed yesterday’s post? Be sure to read Part I.
Admittedly, my reason for wanting to go to Copper Mountain in the off-season is because I have been dying to bike the portion of the Ten Mile Recreational Pathway that runs from Copper Mountain down to Frisco (about 13 miles round-trip.)
This extensive network of trails in Summit County is among my favorite in Colorado. A few years back, I biked with the kids from Frisco along the reservoir to Lake Dillon (one of my favorite days ever). Another time, I biked from Dillon up to Keystone and also we did Frisco to Breckenridge.
All that remains are for me to do Copper Mountain to Frisco and then Copper Mountain up Vail Pass, the latter of which is a 1,000-foot climb.
It’s no wonder I saved the best (or rather, worst) for last.
But on Saturday, I was determined to bike to Frisco and so I woke up at 6 a.m. It was still pitch-black outside.
I dozed until 6:30 a.m. It was barely starting to light up.
I fell back asleep hard, awaking at 7 a.m. I tried to talk myself out of going and stay snuggled up to Jamie but I had come on this trip for the express purpose of biking the trail. All other portions have been glorious and why should this one be any different?
Turns out, it was. Different, that is. As in bad-different.
It wasn’t the actual trail that was bad. In fact, a beautiful smattering of lemon-lime trees lined the path and the moderate decline to Frisco should have been a breeze.
But it was awful for two reasons: the weather and my bike.
Daytime temperatures were 60 degrees but nighttime hovered around freezing and that’s what it was when I started out. I had only worn a light fleece and Capri biking shorts and cannot ever remember being so cold on a bike path.
But I wouldn’t, I couldn’t turn back. For me, the only thing worse than quitting is having unfinished business and so I pressed onward, slowly.
The sluggish pace was due to a problem I am admitting publicly for the first time: I have an aversion to pumping tires. I’ve always felt this way and if you factor in my bike’s presta valve (that requires an adapter to pump), I avoid it at all costs.
That morning when I started out, my tires weren’t firm but still rideable. By the end, they were nearly flat.
Have you ever biked 13 miles in freezing temperatures with near-flat tires? It wasn’t pretty.
I couldn’t even fake a smile here.
But I did it and now the only portion that remains is climbing from Copper Mountain to the top of Vail Pass.
Lesson learned: Wear winter clothes…and fully pumped tires.
After our doozy-of-a-week in the hospital, our overnight trip to Copper Mountain on Friday could not have come at a more perfect time. I asked Jamie if he wanted to cancel but we have been trying to schedule this getaway for months (our lodging was a trade agreement with one of his clients).
And so we went with the understanding Jamie would need to lie low.
If there’s a perfect place to do that, it’s Colorado’s mountains in the fall and we nailed the colors perfectly.
Located 75 miles west of Denver right off I-70, Copper Mountain is the last of the major ski resorts I had yet to visit. Unlike many other resorts in Colorado, there is a ski village built around the area but no real town. This means the shoulder seasons (fall and spring) are like a ghost town. The solace was glorious.
On Friday night while Jamie rested at the condo, Hadley, Bode and I hot tubbed and then explored the area, starting with Copper Mountain Golf.
(Shhhhh, don’t tell the golfers we were on contraband bikes).
We also checked out The Woodward at Copper, a year-round snowboard and ski training camp (the first of its kind) with 19,400 feet of terrain park and pipe progression.
Basically, it’s teen/tween heaven and the staffer was gracious to show us around and even let the kids jump off the ramp into one of the many foam pits.
I declined for fear I’d be unable to climb out.
And yes, I speak from old-woman experience.
Tune in tomorrow (read the story here) for the sordid details of my ride of death. OK, maybe I didn’t exactly die but find out why I kind of wanted to. And yes, I still know I’m in need of posting pumpkin updates. It’s on my (very long) list.
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
~Albert Camus
That’s as poetic as you’re going to get from me.
At the very moment I took this picture at a pit stop en route to Copper Mountain, Bode was peeing on a nearby bush and Hadley was puking on another.
Just keeping it real, people.
It finally feels like Fall in Colorado and after a long, hot summer this is the time of year I enjoy the most. Well, with the exception of winter’s glorious snow. And who doesn’t love spring blossoms?
OK, mostly I just hate summer’s heat.
As a part of my physical therapy, I’ve been trying to bike daily. Though I don’t yet feel I’m ready to hike, my knee is getting stronger every day. Yesterday, I biked for over an hour and was delighted, upon summiting a large hill on the Ralston Creek Trail, to have a vantage point of two gorgeous lakes.
But even better was I actually passed a young dude on the trail, evidence I’m finally gaining some speed. “This is the stretch that always gets me,” he mumbled as an excuse. “Yeah, me too!” I breathed as I raced by.
Or not.
Dear ol’ dad posted the following as his Facebook status last weekend:
Passed these two teenagers pushing their mountain bikes up the Southland Drive hill.
’70-year-old guy passing on your left,’ said I.
‘Heh, heh,’ said they in obvious humiliation.
Just in case you’re wondering where I get “it” from.
Hadley and I are the spontaneous ones in our little family.
This is just a nice way of saying we give our boys ulcers.
But yesterday, Hadley was a bit too spontaneous for even me. At 7:30 a.m., she announced, “Let’s bike to school today!”
This is no small feat. When we had our assessment testing before school started, we tested the waters by biking there and between going up hills, crossing busy streets and traversing the soccer fields, it took us about 25 minutes.
I had been wanting to bike to school before chilly temperatures kicked in and with rain in the forecast later in the week, I agreed, “Let’s do it!”
Sleepy Bode looked at us like we were both lunatics and he was correct. School starts at 8:15 a.m. so we had just 15 minutes to finish getting ready. But we somehow did it and were on our way.
Until we biked up to the top of our hill and I realized we’d forgotten their backpacks.
“Wait here,” I gasped as I raced back to the house. When we reconnected, I knew we wouldn’t have even one moment to spare. Bless their hearts, they pushed onward and had a lovely ride on that beautiful September morning.
Well, with the exception we were in a bit of a frenzy when we arrived mere moments before the bell rang (because stressed and frazzled is an ideal way for any kid to start school).
Now, the following is a glimpse at how I don’t think things through. I had originally intended to go for a bike ride in our local open space that morning and did just that. I had a lovely time and even ran into my friend Lisa.
That would have been dandy if it ended there but then it was time to bike back to school to retrieve Bode from half-day kindergarten an hour later. We stopped at the nearby playground and skate park for a picnic before climbing the big hill to our house. Then a few hours later, I had to repeat the same process by biking back to school to pick-up Hadley and climbing our big hill for the third time that day.
Remember my knee surgery I had two weeks ago today?
Maybe by Spring I’ll be ready to be spontaneous again.
Last weekend’s winners
1) Partying it up at the Arvada Harvest Festival’s fun booths and midway.
We were really just in it for the over-sized turkey legs.
2) Bode’s first soccer game of the fall season. The little dude is a master dribbler and scored two goals.
He actually got three but the sore losers on the other team said it didn’t count because they weren’t ready yet. Not ready for Bode to score on them again.
3) Jamie golfing with the boys at Keys on the Green in glorious Evergreen, Colorado. One of the bonuses of playing in the mountains is it’s not uncommon to run into entire herds of elk.
He’s a winner because he’s one of those dudes who poses for a picture an arm’s throw away and didn’t get gouged.
4) While Dad was risking life, limb and backside on the golf course, the kids and I were winners because we bought their Halloween costumes from the local thrift store and went to celebrate the money we saved at Yogurtland.
Oatmeal cookie frozen yogurt? We’re now converts.
5) Playing on Squiggles, a 343-foot “Seasaurus” at the Arvada Center Playground. There were two winners here.
a) The kids delighted in scaling the entirety of Squiggles’ concrete and steel backside and getting sprayed by water misters every hour. Other cool features: The “Talking Trash Cans” that talk back when you throw away garbage, the huge sandbox and three additional concrete sculptures.
b) I was a winner because I bought a book at the thrift store and let the kids play to their heart’s content while I kicked back in the shade and read the entire book.
Last weekend’s’ loser
Jamie, who unceremoniously dumped my cherished Canadian flag chair into the garbage at Bode’s soccer game.
Trashing the hallowed Maple Leaf? He may have avoided The Gouging of the Elk but trust me, he’d better watch his backside because the wife’s wrath is that much worse.
As a family travel writer I am often asked by visitors, “If you were new to Denver and had just one day to see the nearby back- country, what would you do?”
Today, we did IT:
Namely, hiked to St. Mary’s Glacier and indulged in one of BeauJos Pizza’s famous mountain pies in nearby Idaho Springs, Colo.
St. Mary’s Glacier is one of the top tourist destinations in the area and for good reason: it’s located 45 minutes from Denver just 9 miles off I-70. I’ve done this hike every year since I moved to Denver.
Well, with the exception of when we arrived at the trailhead a couple of years ago and Jamie ran over Hadley’s foot with the car.
Gracious parents that we are, we let her forgo our annual adventure.
This is the second year in a row our kids have hiked to St. Mary’s Glacier by themselves. I wouldn’t call this a particularly easy hike (it’s really steep and rocky without adequate signage) but it is relatively short (just 3/4 mile to the base of the glacier).
There is also a big change this year. The lack of parking has been problematic and we were usually forced to perch on the shoulder of the road overlooking a steep cliff. Remember when Jamie ran over Haddie’s foot? That occurred whilst precariously parking. This year, they have a designated overflow lot that’ll cost you $5.
Well worth it to avoid trips to the hospital.
The steep, rocky hike:
Overlooking St. Mary’s Glacier and lake.
The 1.5-mile round-trip hike to the base of the glacier is only the start of the adventures. Every year, Hadley begs to go higher and higher. By next year, she’ll be capable enough to summit the darn thing along with the kamikaze skiers and snowboarders. This year, we held Adventure Girl back as much as we could.
It’s only a matter of time ’til she’s hauling her skis up there.
And dragging her poor mother down with her.
Getting There: Take I-70 West from Denver, past Idaho Springs’ three exits. Take the next exit marked “Fall River Road.” Just past the bottom of the ramp, take a right (north) on Fall River Road. Follow this road up approximately 9 miles to one of two parking areas for the clearly marked trailhead to St. Mary’s Glacier.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. Learn More