This is the first time I’m trying to write from the road. It’s harder than I thought because I have to take time away from vacationing to sit down and do it and somehow have perspective on what’s going on while it’s happening. To live in the moment and reflect and evaluate all at once is not such an easy task, like a photographer trying to take and edit and process photos all at the same time. Why photographers, you say? Because right now I’m sitting in our rented Ford Edge at Arches National Park with the sun streaming in behind me, a panoramic view of the park and LaSal Mountains in the distance. When I look up from my computer, there are at least eight, no twelve, no twenty photographers in view (Greg amongst them) all trying to capture this perfect light, what they call “the golden hour.” Writing while this is happening both puts me in and takes me out of the experience.
Though I always keep a journal whenever I travel, it usually gets littered with all the worries that cling to me when I leave home, so I’m trying to do something different this time, as in only write about the trip and get it publishable by tomorrow. It’s a challenge that I’m forcing myself to meet because one of my imaginary futures is that of a travel writer who writes while touring the world, all expenses paid by my wonderful insights, style, knowledge, and enormous and dedicated following.
In the real world, as in the one I’m living in right now, travel is a mixed bag. It gives me a lot of time I don’t usually have to sit around in a car or plane and think about things I haven’t quite worked out yet. Small issues, like what will I do with the rest of my life? Or why do I even think I can afford being on this trip right now? And because the sun has just set and the golden hour/15 minutes is almost over, I’ll backtrack and tell you how this whole trip started.
We left Buffalo on Saturday heading to Denver for a trek up to Estes Park for some strolling, scribbling and picture snapping (aka hiking, writing and landscape photography). The plane had some weirdness but I actually slept that deep sleep that only happens in the comfort of an airplane seat where you’re sitting pretty much upright so your head occasionally bobs forward like it’s about to fall off, startling you into wakefulness. But when the plane finally lands you get off fully rested (right?) and begin the search for your luggage which in Denver involves a long train ride to the baggage claim followed by crowds and confusion, hoards of lumbering sheep who are practically begging you to clock them in the knees with your suitcase as they hover close to the carousel refusing to move as you squeeze in to grab your bag weighing only slightly under the 50 lb. weight limit.
On to another moving vehicle, a bus to the car rental pick-up where the agent who couldn’t seem more disinterested asks how we are and where we’re going, then proceeds to skillfully hustle us into upgrading our vehicle to something bigger that will be more powerful, safer and more expensive for taking us into the mountains. I keep saying, “Budget, budget…” and Greg says, “But we really could use a bigger…” and we wind up with a full-size SUV that is quite nice but $125 over what we were planning on spending, a fantastic bargain by our crafty agent’s standards.
But we’re on our way, a mere hour and a half after landing at 4:30 and we get to see a few streaks of purple and pink through wispy clouds as we head up to Estes Park on a dark and winding road. This time of year in Colorado can bring any kind of weather, but one thing you can rely on when you’re at this elevation is an early sunset and a bit of time allowed for altitude adjustment.
We arrived at our small hotel called “Nicky’s Resort” at about 7:30 PM, a place we found on Expedia for $79 a night in an area where rooms can cost much, much more. But we read the 95% approval rated reviews, which we know can be fake, but in this case, we were in complete agreement with what we saw described on the Internet. The room was small, but clean, and had a really cute knotty pine decor. We got the cheapest room with a king bed, but if you wanted to pay a bit more, you could get two queens, a fireplace, that kind of thing. We weren’t planning on spending much time in the room so what we got was fine and the location was perfect, quiet and off the road a bit, a short distance from town and Rocky Mountain National Park. The one negative thing we read about was the restaurant which was reported to be expensive and not very good, so we drove five minutes into Estes Park and had dinner at “Mama Rose’s,” one of the many good restaurants there where we enjoyed reasonably priced comfort food in a warm atmosphere with good service.
After a decent night’s sleep Greg left in the dark at 6:05 AM to get his sunrise shots while I stayed back and slept in until 8:30. It was a bit cold when I ventured out wearing my warm weather gear and discovered a lovely path of pine straw and pebbles next to the Fall River complete with the sounds of rushing water over rocks and aspens bright with yellow leaves dappled in sunlight.
That’s when I got it, the realization that whatever this costs money, aggravation or time-wise, is completely worth it. Not only did I need to get away, but I needed to come specifically here, to sit and stare, and dream and write, and reconnect with the beauty of the natural world.
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