It wasn’t long before we came across another obstacle on the trail: a near-vertical, jeep-wide, jeep-deep rut with loose rocks piled along the center part of the trail. Nearly every tree lining that section of the trail was dead, with winch marks worn through the bark and deep into the poles of each one. When I got out to see just how impassible that section of the trail was, I couldn’t even get up it on all fours, as the rocks kept slipping beneath my feet. The only way I could get up that trail was to clamber up onto the land above it. However, the jeep obviously couldn’t do that. 

“Dad, I’m not sure we can make this…” I said with a scowl back inside the jeep. 

“Oh really?” Dad asked as he began to reverse the jeep, presumably to turn around. 

But, I recognized the determination in his tone of voice, just as he punched the gas, nearly throwing me into the backseat before I could snap my seatbelt into place. 

As much as the jeep was slipping and sliding on those rocks, we were making steady progress up the 200-yard-long rut. At the end of the rut, we blasted out of it with so much speed that the front tires were launched roughly three feet off the ground. We skidded to a stop upon landing, and we couldn’t help but whoop and holler from the thrill of it. 

According to our maps, we were at the crest of the mountain and halfway to the end of our ride. We found a place off the trail to park the Jeep, then we got out to stretch our legs and relax for a bit. Dad and I were both sore, exhausted, and hungry. I’d brought plenty of snacks, but we wanted lunch!

“So… we’ve been on this trail for what? An hour?” I asked as my stomach growled. 

“Seems like it.” Dad shrugged, “I think we’re at the top of the mountain, so now we just gotta focus on getting down. It can’t take us more than an hour to get down, meaning we’ll get back to Idaho Springs in time for a late lunch.”

“Oh good.” I smiled, “I’ll be starving by the time we get down!”

“So will I.” Dad agreed, “So will-”

Suddenly, a cacophony of screams echoed through the rocks and woods from the base of the mountain. Dad and I both jumped, thinking we were hearing either an entire pride of mountain lions, or the souls of the damned. But, then we heard the same voices laughing and shouting between screams, and we both relaxed. In the canyon far below us was the Clear Creek river, which was (and is) a very popular white-water rafting river. As Dad and I stood in silence, straining our ears, I could hear the sound of the rushing river between the wind gusts rushing through the pines around us, while the screams and shouts gradually faded with the rafters. 

“We should do that one day.” Dad mused, “You’re up for it now, aren’t ya?”

“Uhhhhhh… I don’t think so.” I shook my head. 

Before Dad could say anything more, I trotted off into the woods towards the other side of the mountain to get some pictures of the scenery, and to just relax in the quiet ambience. 

Cautiously, I climbed up some grey granite boulders to get a good look of the treeless mountains to the west. Even in early August, there were still patches of snow up on those barren peaks. Not enough to ski down on, but certainly enough to count as a handful of Colorado’s 3500 glaciers (there are only 14 named glaciers in the state). Once I found my balance atop a flat rock that jutted out over the side of the mountain, I aimed my camera westward and snapped several pictures. After that, I just stood there and marveled in the views and silence of the mountains. 

Between wind gusts hissing through the pines, it was ear-ringingly silent. It was obvious to me that we were alone on that mountain. Far above the tourist traps and highway below. To me, the silence was pure bliss. For once, I felt that I could fully relax and just breathe that mountain air. But, just as I was getting to a meditative state, I heard my name echoing through the hills. 

“Alright, I’m coming!” I called back to my dad, as I leapt down the boulders, and skidded my way down the loose soil back to the jeep.