Leaves on the Cottonwoods were just beginning to turn from shamrock green to golden yellow when I arrived at the red clay trail.
To the west, silver clouds heavy with moisture hung over the mountains, shrouding the tips of the foothills in mist. There was almost no wind, and no noise besides my breath and footsteps, and the occasional bird call. I was alone. Finally, I had some actual peace and quiet for once!
It had been a long time since I’d felt such cool air before, and I was ecstatic. Summer lasted for too damn long. I was more than ready for much colder air. Dare I say, I was ready for snow. Unfortunately, I didn’t encounter any snow that day. Instead, when I reached the clouds about halfway up the foothills, I got soaked, then cold. I wasn’t in any mortal danger. My Xterra wasn’t far below me. But, being cold and wet ruined the joy I felt, and I raced back to my heated seats before I froze to death.
Of course, not without encountering some of my deer friends on my way back.
Had I not been actively freezing to death, I would've crouched down to the grass and snuck up to the deer, phone in hand, to get some close-ups. However, the two does and their three fawns didn't mind me at all. I had to shout, "Hey!" to even get their attention for a second, before they all went back to scavenging the grass for lunch.
Clearly, they've gotten used to my shenanigans.
Roughly two weeks later…
“I see you’ve got a breakfast of champions.” the gas station clerk laughed as I pushed my Slim Jim and Diet Coke onto the counter.
“Hell yeah.” I chuckled, “I didn’t have time this mornin’ to make breakfast.”
“Is that right?” the clerk grinned, “Where ya headed?”
“Rollins Pass.” I nodded, matter-of-factly, “Dad and I are gonna try to get up and over the Continental Divide today.”
“Wow!” the clerk raised his eyebrows as he put my breakfast into a plastic bag, “Well, you have fun out there.”
“Thank you.” I smiled, “Have a good one.”
Dad rolled his eyes as I strutted out of the gas station with a mouth full of Slim Jim, “Y’know, that’s probably just as bad for you as smoking a cigarette.”
“Says the guy who’s eating a gas station apple fritter with nasty jeep fingers.” I smirked as I leaned up against the hood of the jeep, watching as my dad ate his breakfast with the same hand he used to wipe some crusty mud and oil off the gas cap.
“Get in the jeep.” he grumbled as he shook his head, out of comebacks.
I clambered into the jeep and reached behind me for a bottle of water to wash my breakfast (and pills) down with, and Dad got in the driver's seat with his nasty jeep fingers still holding onto the apple fritter.
"So!" Dad began as he scrolled through his phone's GPS, "Traffic's gonna be a shitshow this morning. I know of several routes to get us to Rollinsville while avoiding traffic. Which shall we take?"
"I say, the most scenic one." I replied, "Like everyone else, I wanna see the Aspens."
"Alright." Dad smiled, "The most scenic and people-free route it is. Get some music on, will ya?"
"On it!" I said as the jeep roared to life.
We fought through city traffic as we drove from Ken Caryl to Golden, singing along to Dallas Davidson's song, Outside. A fitting song for that day.
"Outside, give me a midnight moon or a blue sky
Southern breeze blowin' through the tall pines
Yeah, I come alive when I feel it on my skin.
I'm talkin' out there, where a worry turns into a don't care
If you wanna get to know me on the inside
See my best side
Get me outside..."
We followed some winding backroads through the foothills and into the mountains. The higher we climbed, the more gold and scarlet the leaves on the Aspens and Cottonwoods turned. The animals were out full-force too. Canada geese, Mallard ducks, Wood ducks, Pintails, and many more waterfowl floated in on teal-blue ponds and reservoirs. We brushed by several rafters of Merriam turkeys strutting along the roadside, and many hawks, vultures, and eagles glided on the updrafts in the cloudless skies above. I even spotted a herd of fattened bighorn sheep on a barren mountainside above the road, searching for sage and dying grass to graze.
Unfortunately, we didn't have time to stop and gawk at the wildlife. We hit the road very early in hopes of beating the traffic and having the trails all to ourselves. Like me, my dad was sick of being around so many humans. We needed to tend our needs by getting deep into the wilderness. Just myself, my dad, and our rusty little YJ.
After an hour or so of dodging traffic and roadside wildlife, we arrived to the familiar mining town of Rollinsville. Though, instead of heading to Apex Valley or Missouri Gulch road, we drove straight through Rollinsville, following the rugged dirt road all the way through the valley to the Rollins Pass trailhead.
Just like we hoped, there wasn't a single 4X4 parked at the trailhead. In fact, we saw nobody the whole drive from Rollinsville to the pass. Even better, the trail was dry as a bone, except for a few small puddles here and there. And the Aspen leaves were perfectly golden, occasionally sprinkling the ground like confetti with the strong gusts of cold wind howling off the Continental Divide.
For almost seven years, Dad and I have tried to get all the way to the Continental Divide using Rollins Pass. Unfortunately, we were stopped by snow each time. We could never get past two huge rocky ledges we nicknamed "the Twin Canyons", as they'd hold massive drifts of snow well into July.
Picture taken several years ago at the Twin Canyons, before Dad made the mistake of selling his Xterra for a Hyundai Santa Fe. AKA a "soccer dad" vehicle.
But, in the middle of an unseasonably warm September after an even warmer summer (yay, climate change), we figured the Twin Canyons would be snow-free, and we could make it to the Divide that day.
Before getting too far onto the trail, Dad and I stopped to let some air out of the tires. While 4X4 wasn't yet necessary, it was a real pain in the ass to ride over the rocks and potholes with fully-inflated tires. So, while Dad crouched down to air out the tires, I hiked around the trail, cautiously peering over the side of the trail to the ground hundreds of feet below.
It was very windy that day, and that wind was cold! Even with my two hoodies, long jeans, and hat, that wind sliced right through to my bones. Still, I endured the icy cold, determined to take in all the sights, sounds, smells, and sensations of a landscape that awed me. No pictures or paintings or words could do my view of the valley below any justice.
The fact that there were no other people or vehicle noise made it even more special to me. At that moment in time, I was alone with God, surrounded by gold-speckled foothills and mountains for as far as my eye could see.
It was simply breathtaking. Literally (thanks to the strong, frozen gusts).
"Alright!" Dad clapped his hands, almost spooking me off the cliffside, "Let's get-a-goin'! We got a Divide to conquer!"
"Nice one..." I thought to myself as I turned away from the cliffside and leapt into the jeep.
The road ahead was promisingly dry. Sure, there were a few puddles and stream-fed mud pits here and there, but overall, we had an easy road ahead of us. So easy, in fact, that Dad didn't even bother to put the Jeep in four-wheel-drive at first. We'd save the slow-n-steady gears for later.
As we rumbled through the forest of firs and pines, ascending the mountain with ease, I watched out my window at the vast landscape below. Our trail narrowed more and more the higher we climbed, with an impossibly steep slope ascending to our left, and an equally steep slope to our right. There were several spots below Rollins Pass where cars had fallen off the trail. Each wreck was still very much visible, though rusted and slowly being reclaimed by the wilderness, serving as grim reminders of what one wrong move could lead to.
But, I wasn't even a little nervous, and neither was my dad. We'd taken on Rollins Pass many times before, and never once felt particularly in danger. So long as we maintained a reasonable speed and paid attention to our surroundings, the risk of us falling off the mountainside were slim.
At least... that's what we told ourselves.
After hugging the mountainside for a couple more miles, the trail banked to the left, leading us into the thick pine forest. The evergreens here were healthy. Not one beetle-kill pine was seen. The few dying trees we did come across were dying of other causes, such as erosion that exposed their fragile roots to the frozen air. When those trees eventually die and fall down the steep, rocky slopes of the mountains, nature will take it over, turning that tree into fertile soil for other plants and fungi to feed off of.
Suddenly, Dad shifted gears and sped up towards a huge mud pit, startling me out of my peaceful daydream. Before I could be the voice of reason, I felt the front tires leave the ground for a split second, before splashing down into the knee-deep puddle. Dad and I both let out whopping hollers as cold mud soaked our shoulders and blinded our view through the windshield. Thankfully, we made it across the puddle (which was actually more like a small pond) without any other issues, and I playfully punched my dad's dry shoulder.
"What the hell were ya thinking?!" I wheezed, "You're lucky we didn't get stuck, 'cuz there ain't no one else around!"
"I didn't think it would be that deep!" Dad howled back, "I thought it was only a puddle."
"Puddle my ass!" I replied, cackling like a hyena.