Last September, my husband, daughter, and I visited Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park for a few days.
It was an unforgettable vacation of spectacular views, stunning vistas, and a seeming lack of vocabulary to fully convey the beauty and majesty of what we saw. Awe kept me quiet, as it often does. And wonder turned to “wow” more often than not.
The still-green aspens would turn golden a few weeks later, a sight I wish we’d been around to see.
One morning, we drove up Trail Ridge Road, the “highest continuous paved road in North America, reaching 12,183 feet.” Completed in 1932, construction of the road was difficult. Crews could only work on it during the four warmest months of the year. The road closes every fall for the season and before it can reopen to visitors in the spring, road crews spend six weeks plowing through snow drifts. At any point in the summer, snowfall can cause the road to be closed.
Fortunately, the sun shone bright with no snow in sight the morning we went up that road. My husband Mart drove while our daughter and I took in the scenery. None of us focused on how high up we were or how incomprehensible any drop-offs were. We just enjoyed the sights outside our windows and occasionally stopped at some must-see spots, like Rainbow Curve, Forest Canyon, and Gore Range.
Almost at the top of Trail Ridge Road, we turned off onto Old Falls Road and soon arrived at the Alpine Visitor Center. A sign noted the elevation at a whopping 11,796 ft.
When we stepped out of the car, the wind and chill temperatures almost knocked me over. Wasn’t it still summertime? It was September, after all.
Of course, the sky-high elevation had its own definition of summertime, and some of the peaks across the parking lot still had ice on them. Wrapping my flapping scarf more securely around my neck, I pulled on my knit hat, stuffing my curly hair inside.
Gore Range
We’d planned to visit the Trail Ridge Store and Cafe to sample their famous cinnamon rolls along with our favorite hot beverages, but it wasn’t open yet and wouldn’t be for another hour.
In the meantime, my intrepid loved ones decided to walk up a nearby trail—straight up—to the topmost point. I decided not to walk up that hill, but instead, to check out the visitor center to learn more about the history and ecology of the area. And be toasty warm while doing it.
In the visitor center, I learned that the alpine tundra in Rocky Mountain National Park is vast, covering about a third of the park. I read about delicate tundra plants that grow here, such as Alpine Forget-Me-Nots, which are smaller than thumb tacks and Sky Pilots, which smell like skunks to attract flies for pollination. (For my post on what I learned on the tundra, click here.)
I also read about the earliest people in the area, starting with the Utes at least 6,000 years ago, the Apache in the 1500s, and the Arapaho around 1800. Animals that are native here include the American elk, big-horn sheep, yellow-bellied marmots, and the white-tailed ptarmigan (bird).
Stepping outside the visitor center, I walked over to the lookout between the buildings to take photos of an almost barren scooped out area of the landscape. It was called the Glacial Cirque, which according to a sign close by, was the “birthplace of many glaciers.” Compacted snow and ice at the top of this valley started moving slowly downhill, becoming a glacier. And, “as glaciers crept down the mountain, they scooped out this bowl-shaped cirque, leaving behind steep headwalls, a sloping valley floor, and a broad U-shaped valley.”
Finally, my loved ones came back, pink-cheeked and huffing and puffing. The top of the trail was so windy they had to fight to stay upright. I think they were glad they went, but I know they were glad it was over.
Shortly afterward, the store and cafe opened. We made our way to the cafe for those famous cinnamon rolls, coffee, and tea. We sat in front of a large window that afforded us a striking view of the cirque beyond, and later shopped for souvenirs in the store..
I couldn’t help but pinch myself that we were on the top of the world, at least for that moment, and the beauty we saw there can hardly be described.
It reminds me that the beauty of this world is a gift, given by a generous and loving God who delights in delighting us. And I’m grateful to have experiences at least a small part of what he has created.
Have you seen beauty this summer that stopped you in your tracks? Anything that made you feel grateful? I’d love to know. Leave a comment below.
At Glimsen, I share glimpses of the beauty around us in nature, the arts, and the unexpected. Click the button below to get my posts delivered to your inbox once a week, and you'll also get a little printable gift of beauty just for signing up.