Search Here ….

colorado travel

Colorado Travel Log 2023

Amber Leigh Williams

Writer's Log: Day 1

February 17, 2023
Alabama to Texas

“So it begins.” As we pull away from our house for a two-day trip to the Rocky Mountains, I say it like Theoden before the Battle of Helm’s Deep. This is our third year leaving the subtropical Gulf Coast and caravanning behind Beardy’s brother and his family to wintry Colorado.

Tator Tot is seven. Chicken Nugget is ten. He’s content to sit in one place for long periods of time, albeit in odd positions, as long as he has something to occupy his mind and white cheddar popcorn. 

Tator Tot is my nature girl who requires large amounts of fresh air and sunlight. She likes to move and run and play, no matter the weather. Lately, though, she’s been prone to selective daydreaming so as long as we keep her favorite rock-n-roll songs on repeat and give her reward candy every hundred miles or so, her mood may not be susceptible to cloud bursts. 

With Beardy in the driver’s seat, the drive between Alabama and Texas was relatively smooth. The most exciting parts for the kids were viewing the river delta and the USS Alabama at Mobile Bay and crossing the Mississippi at Vicksburg. Chicken Nugget is still utterly enchanted by the long cargo trains. Please, never grow out of that, young grasshopper.

Upper Louisiana isn’t nearly as wet or interersting as Lower Louisiana. Naturally, this uneventful plain was where Tator Tot emitted her first “How much longer?” I’m stunned she lasted this long. She decided at that moment that Chicken Nugget was far too content and incited a lively sibling squabble. Even with that hiccup, everything went peachy until, of course, Dallas.

For a city named after one my favorite literary characters (J.D Robb’s Eve Dallas), it’s endlessly problematic. It was dark by this point so we decided we would be smart and take the bypass road around the city. My thrill-seeking spouse still had moments of nervous chuckling. When we arrived at our hotel in Denton, his hands were sore from fisting the wheel and he was primed for a whiskey shot (or three).

Another 10 hours of drive time tomorrow! 

Writer's Log: Day 2

February 18, 2023
Denton, TX to Pueblo, CO

Beardy slept until 4:00 until noise from the nearby highway became too much. He let the rest of us sleep until breakfast. He tested the shower for me. Pressure and temperature were ideal and the hotel soap smelled good on him so I decided to partake. It was 30 degrees but the air was already drier than it was at home. Denton’s 30 felt more like 50 in Alabama. Sweaters and gloves and we were ready to ride.

Leaving Witchita Falls, GPS Lady informed us we would continue on the same road for 212 miles. When north Texas isn’t dusted in snow, it is a redhead. We passed a place called Amardillo Grill and agreed heartily that we would never eat there. The vast fields of wind turbines look alien against the rural landscape. The old pumpjacks look much more at home there.

The wind in West Texas snatched the car door out of my hand when we stopped for gas. On the open road, the 18 wheelers had to pull over on the side of the road. A herd of pronghorn didn’t seem affected by the gusts. Not long before New Mexico, we saw the first snow on the ground.

New Mexico is one of the highlights of the trip for me. The mesas and buttes take my breath away. We waved to Capulin Volcano. I hoped we will stop and hike it on way home.

The first mountain pass we reached was at Raton, New Mexico. Our SUV felt the climb in altitude more than we did at that point. My ears popped and I knew we were in the Rocky Mountains. As we came down out of the pass, we saw the sign “Welcome to Colorful Colorado!” On the road to Pueblo, I loved the contrast of the plains to the east and the mountains to the west. Snow was everywhere and the kids were thrilled. You could tell they see this but once a year and spend their southern spring, summer and fall dreaming about that blanket of white.

In Pueblo, our stop for the night, we walked the river walk and found Angelo’s Pizza Parlor. I felt the altitude at that point. I was dizzy and my nasal passages were dry. It’s just a glimpse of what I’ll be feeling tomorrow when we go up to 9,000+ feet.

Writer's Log: Day 3

February 19, 2023
Pueblo, CO to Silverthorne, CO

We woke up in Pueblo and it was 14 degrees out. We got an early start, pointing our SUV north. This was the final leg of our journey in that direction, passing Pike’s Peak. At a whopping 14,115 feet, it is the highest summit of the southern Front Range. One of the tallest of Colorado’s impressive “14ers,” it inspired the poem “America the Beautiful.”

In my opinion, Grand Junction through the mountains west of Denver is the most dangerous part of the drive. Drivers are so distracted by the view at every twist and turn, it’s easy to forget they’re behind the wheel and that driving through the steep inclines and downgrades is tricky in and of itself. The kids were enamored by frozen waterfalls. There was a herd of buffalo, rockfalls encased in netting, picturesque mountain towns… Between the first and second tunnels, our speed slowed and visibility dropped. It was snowing!

The 18 wheelers were having a lot of trouble on the inclines but thankfully the runaway truck ramps were empty going down. Our sporty V-8 suffered, too. Beardy announced on an incline that we were getting 8 miles to the gallon. On the steepest down-grade, he said we were getting 100. When we arrived finally at our destination, Silverthorne, our white SUV was coated in mud.

Silverthorne and Dillon are gorgeous! Everything about this elevation, though, is different. I climbed the stairs in one shop and my heart banged hard in my chest, despite three months exercising specifically for this trip. While grocery shopping, my sister-in-law and I noticed we were both out of breath just walking. My chest felt itchy, too, like I had a bad chest cold. This was the beginning of our group’s rough acclimation period. We forgot this momentarily when we spotted a moose in a field outside our ski resort.

Altitude sickness feels like seasickness and after dinner, I noticed telltale signs in Beardy: nervous bouncy knee when sitting, clammy hands and unnatural pallor. The only way to fight altitude sickness is with Dramamine and hydration. We’ll see who’s ready to go up the mountain tomorrow.

Writer's Log: Day 4

February 20, 2023
Keystone Ski Resort

It was a slow start as everyone was still feeling the effects of altitude. Beardy took Dramamine and a cold shower and felt better. I fed the kids breakfast then helped them put on their gear. It was C.O.L.D. so I dressed them in three layers (thermals, sweats, snow pants and jacket). On went the ski boots, neck/face coverings and helmets. We walked to the bunny hill for our first run on skis in 365 days.

Chicken Nugget was like a fish to water, as always. He’s better than I am. Tator Tot was slower to get started, but once she remembered how to shuffle on the straightaways and keep her skis parallel when turning, she picked it back up quickly enough. My first run wasn’t pretty, either, but the second gave me confidence.

The snow came in sideways and the wind on the ski lift wasn’t what I’d call pleasant. Chicken Nugget complained that his neck was uncovered and snow was getting into his jacket. Still, I could tell they were both thrilled with where they were and what they were doing. “Look at the snow, mommy!” Tator Tot chirped at regular intervals, making me forget my numb toes in my boots.

They rode the two-seater lift on their own (with mama in the chair behind them). The road squabbles had been forgotten in a wave of shared cheeriness and comradery. I took a lot of mental pictures to file into my mommy memory banks later. I fell only once and got right back up. Thank goodness for 3 full months of cardio!

We took a lunch break and rested for a bit. I grabbed extra neck coverings for everyone to keep the persistant snow flurries on the outside then we walked back to the bunny hill. Chicken Nugget lasted only a few runs and went back to the house with his favorite cousin for warmth and video games. Tator Tot insisted on staying and practicing her turns until the lift closed at 4:00 p.m.

Beardy and I hit the hot tub because even on the first day our joints were feeling the abuse of cold and falling on packed snow. He built a nice fire after dinner and we cuddled, rehashing the day and making plans for the next!

Writer's Log: Day 5

February 21, 2023
Keystone Ski Resort

The day started out crisp and clear. The sun was out in full and the sky was a stunning robin’s egg blue. With the clouds gone, we could see all the peaks, even the distant ones. Our second day on the slopes started midway up the mountain. We hopped on the big chair lift and rode up, up, oh my god up to the long family green trail.

Last year, we attempted it only once and were separated. This year, we were determined to stick together. It started out well, but then like so many well-laid plans, not so much. Chicken Nugget decided Tator Tot’s pace was too slow so he sped after his cousins just as fast as his skis would go. I spent the entire two-and-half mile run sick with worry…just like last year. At the bottom, I spotted his bright-colored jacket in the crowd of spectators. Every scolding word turned to ash in my mouth when he hugged me, sobbed and told me he missed me. He may be 10 and nearly as tall as I am, but he’s still my little boy.
 
Tator Tot did amazing on the long green, despite having only learned her turns yesterday. She begged to go back to the bunny hill, though, while Chicken Nugget went back up the mountain with Beardy.
 
After lunch while the big boys and girls took another pass at the mountain, the kiddies and I checked out the snow fort. Chicken Nugget slid down the ramp on his belly at least 15 times before announcing he was tired and thirsty. I should think so after his big morning on the mountain. While he rested with his cousins, Tator Tot and I took a walk along the river. It was frozen over in all but a few small spots but Amy March loomed large in my mind and I refused to allow Tator Tot to walk on the ice.
 
Instead, we tried guessing animal tracks in the snow along the bank and located the clearing where we built last year’s snowman. She was pretty disappointed when she saw it wasn’t still there. She ate snow and grinned widely, laughing when she hit a thick snow drift and sank to her knees. She was a friendly winter snow sprite with one eye for mischievousness and the other for adventure. I memorized how she looked and sounded and the way the afternoon sunlight shifted gold through the birch trees.
 
Today I took my first Dramamine pill around lunch. I didn’t feel particularly sick. My old friend generalized anxiety disorder came to call, I think. And is it any wonder when the day started with a high dose of parental terror? The snow will return tomorrow and I hope health and caution are both close of its heels.

Writer's Log: Day 6

February 22, 2023
Keystone Ski Resort
Tator Tot woke up with a stuffy nose. We took the morning slow and didn’t venture out until 11:00 a.m. The kids insisted on going up the chair lift to the top of the bunny hill by themselves again. Chicken Nugget started to go down and Tator Tot followed his S trail. Her turns are getting so good! They enjoyed “French fry-ing” halfway down the hill, picking up speed so that they could coast all the way back to the lift line.
Between the 3rd and 4th run like this, I felt a noticeable drop in temperature. Chicken Nugget did 5 trips down the bunny hill and announced that he was done. Tator Tot pleaded to go again so we went back up for one last run, just us two.
 
After taking off her snow gear back at the house, she crawled into mine and Beardy’s bed with Abby Hatcher and we cuddled while the snow outside the window grew heavier and heavier. I received my first Snow Squall Warning on my phone and called Beardy immediately. He and his brothers were making their way back down. I learned later that he was on a black diamond.
 
He came back to rest until the squall died down then took Chicken Nugget back up the mountain for the long family green. They did three runs. During the last run, the wind kicked up, spewing the morning’s fresh powder everywhere.
 
Before dinner, we had a break in the weather so we caught the bus to the village because no trip to the resort is complete without visiting Yeti Snack Shop for a bag of tooth-crackin’ LEGO candy. The kiddies’ dentist will be horrified but tradition is tradition. We could see stern, dark blizzard clouds gathering over the distant peaks so we headed back to our place.
 
I made hamburger helper because everybody in our party seemed to need a dash of comfort food. The expected blizzard blew in with vigor as we ate. Tomorrow will likely be the coldest day. Thankfully, we have plenty of hot chocolate and firewood to tide us over.

Writer's Log: Day 7

February 23, 2023
Keystone Ski Resort

Beardy was on the slopes for seven hours yesterday. His biggest owie is the muscles around his lungs. He did a lot of heavy breathing on the mountain. I felt it too this morning, as well as the chill.

It snowed all night and was still snowing at breakfast. Beardy surprised us by warming our mittens and head warmers in the dryer and laying them out on the bed. When we left for the slopes at 9:30, it was -1°. Brrrr.
 
We went up, up, up the big lift halfway up the mountain to the long family green. Tator Tot was super nervous, but she made it all the way down for the first time without falling and demanded to take another crack at it. Up we went again. This time, my right leg gave out and I nearly lost control in the faster bits.
 
At the very bottom, Tator Tot fell and hurt her ankle but she insisted that Beardy take her up again after a good cry and hugs. It was so cold, ice had formed on the bottom edge of my goggles.
I walked back to the house to take off my ski boots…and realized I never secured two of the latches on my right. I skied downhill the equivalent of four miles with a loose boot. Jesus.
 
Meanwhile, Chicken Nugget joined his cousins at the top of the mountain and skied all the way down. The cousins reported that he was hopping hills and darting between trees. Something to add to my nightmares tonight.
 
After lunch, we took the enclosed gondola up to the top of the mountain where we found the giant snow fort, complete with ice sculptures, tunnels and slides. The kiddies (and some of the adults) wore themselves out playing. Tator Tot wore out very quickly. The summit is 12,408 feet above sea level while the mountain base we’ve acclimated to is 9,280. The air at the top is very thin and saps energy. We had to forego hot chocolate at the lodge and went back down the gondola.
 
Down in the village, Tator Tot felt much better. She and Chicken Nugget engaged in a chess game with the giant chess board they had found the day before.
 
We built a snowman back at the house. Giggles were at a high as cousins helped pack the loose powder. Beardy decided I wasn’t cold enough and tackled me into a snow drift. I ran a lukewarm bath for the kiddies, gradually warming it so their hands and feet wouldn’t tingle too badly as the cold left them.
 
Beardy had a few hours before the lifts closed for the evening so he headed up the mountain for more fun. He came back limping to show me the Go Pro footage of his bust. He’s okay, but his ears were ringing for a while. Injuries tend to happen toward the end of the trip because everyone’s sore and tired. Tomorrow is our last day on the slopes. Here’s wishing it’s a safe one.

Writer's Log: Day 8

February 24, 2023
Keystone Ski Resort
Chicken Nugget didn’t feel all that great when he woke up and decided he’d had all his mountain fun already. Tator Tot said the same thing but by 10:30 a.m., she was itching to go to the bunny hill. I walked her over. She rode the little lift with her cousin to the top and skied down while I videoed. She repeated this five times before deciding she was done.
 
The lifts up the mountain closed at 4:00. At precisely 3:30, she informed me she wanted Beardy to take her down the long green. He came back for her at 3:50. They got to the lift with three minutes to spare and Tator Tot got her last full mountain run in.
 
I learned that while on a blue before he came back for Tator Tot, Beardy hit his head pretty hard. Thank goodness he was wearing a helmet and all his safety gear properly.
 
With everyone off the slopes for the week, only one potentially broken bone was reported from Beardy’s second brother. This year there were no concussions. My kids were the only ones with colds.
 
It was movie night at the house. The whole family gathered. We cooked everything in the freezer because it was our last night. It was an early bedtime with the humidifer blasting. Beardy conked out as soon as his head hit the pillow.
 
The kids found a Denver Public Library Book in one of the dresser drawers: Peace is Every Breath. (Fitting since we’ve been fighting for breath since we got to 9,000 feet.) Tator Tot begged to take it home so we could mail it back to its Denver home. She then read the introduction out loud with her brother’s help on the bigger words.
 
Chicken Nugget told a compelling folktale about a T-Rex bringing light to the world to help Tator Tot sleep. He then fell into a satisfactory repose. Tator Tot needed more stories about cloud foxes and pink dinosaurs to ensure good dreams.
 
Even though we’ve acclimated, sleep is still difficult. I’ll miss the mountains but I’ll be glad when we’re back at sea level where sleeping doesn’t give us all a case of cotton mouth. Tomorrow we’ll be waking up early to pack the cars and hit the road for the two-day journey back to Alabama.

Writer's Log: Day 9

February 25, 2023
Silverthorne, CO to Denton, TX
Beardy and his brother were breathless loading the cars. Six inches of fresh powder had to be scraped off the car. The chaos of leaving the mountain house we had made our home over the last week was to be expected. As always at the end of a vacation, our car seemed more packed than it had at the beginning. As we pulled away from Keystone Resort, we said goodbye to the snow-blanketed mountains that had been so good to us this year.
We dropped off our skis and ski boots we had rented, grabbed breakfast in town and we were off. The mountain pass was crystal clear, giving us a stunning view of the Rockies. As we came out of the Johnson tunnel, a sign told us, “Downhill grades next 44 miles. How are your brakes?” Great, thank you. But what about the school bus to our right? There were other signs. “Avalanche area.” “Bighorn sheep viewing area.” “6% grade.” We don’t see things like that at home.
 
The mountains tossed off snow. It looked like they were breathing plumes of air into the cold, just like we do. Traffic going up into pass was bumper to bumper. It was the weekend skiers coming in. I was glad we were with the easy flowing traffic going down and out. With one stop for gas and souvenirs at the Sasquatch store, we put the pass and the mountains in our rearview. As always, we were already making plans for next year’s trip.
 
When we left Colorado for New Mexico, we decided we had one more adventure in us. We stopped at Capulin Volcano and drove up the winding road to the Rim Trail. It always surprises us how the land falls away so quickly to our right. Last year, we hiked the Crater Trail and part of the Rim Trail. This year we were determined to go all the way around the top. It was one mile, some of it through a snow-blocked trail. At the peak, we earned an 8,182-foot high vantage point of gorgeous New Mexico. We had to squint to see Oklahoma, Colorado and Texas in the distance. This was the place last year where I decided to write the Fuego, New Mexico trilogy. I plotted the first book between the volcano and the Texas border. I’ll be plotting the latter half of third on the way home.
 
We left the western states and snow behind for the flatlands of Texas. The time went all too quickly from Mountain to Central and it was 5:00 p.m. Still another 6 hours of drive time. We watched a West Texas sunset. At night, the wind turbines blink red in unsettling unison. Chicken Nugget said it best: “MARTIANS!” As we crossed a bridge, I looked out over the pitch black void and imagined we were crossing a bay. Homesickness for the waterland region we call home struck me. I couldn’t wait to smell salty air again.
 
We reached our destination for the night at the same hotel we stayed at on the way north in Denton. I put the kids in their pajamas and made sure they were tucked in bed because I knew as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was going to sleep like a rock. Another ten hours of driving east then south before reaching home tomorrow.

Writer's Log: Day 10

February 26, 2023
Texas to Alabama

We woke up in Denton to fog and I realized that we would have to drive through Dallas first. Beardy said not to worry because it was Sunday, early and the bypass road wouldn’t be as chaotic as going through the city itself. He was wrong. We’ve learned that anything associated with Dallas is the essence of chaos. Even Beardy found himself clenching when squeezed between the concrete barrier with no shoulder in the far left lane and an 18-wheeler.

I read and write while traveling to keep me relaxed, but I kept reading the same paragraph over and over and morphed into my children, asking, “Are we there yet? How much more time?” every few minutes. They were both engaged in a movie in the backseat with their headsets on and had little to no awareness of the tension, thank goodness.
 
Finally, we were out of city traffic and well on our way to Lousiana. As soon as we crossed the border, everything started to look green again. It looked like St. Patrick’s Day to my sore eyes. We spied cotton fields and muddy rivers and were relieved to be back in familiar wetlands. At a rest area we stretched and felt the warm air. The humidity wrapped me in its arms. It felt like a security blanket. Tator Tot picked wildflowers. No more trouble breathing.
 
The Mississippi River had spilled its banks at Vicksburg. Finally, we stopped traveling east and started to go south. This was the only point of the trip where I felt car sickness. I stayed stubbornly invested in my current read. That was a mistake. By the time we reached Mobile County, Alabama, the roads started to wind and I felt ill. I picked my head up and watched the center line until we reached the bay.
 
It’s incredible how different it looked. The water was low on the river delta when we left, revealing the bed of the wetlands. As we crossed the Bayway going the opposite direction, it was at full pool. The water had covered up the beds and was blue and flowing, leaving small islands of swamp grass. I drank the sight of the water disappearing into the Gulf. Every river and lake in Colorado was frozen. I missed home, but I missed the water most of all and couldn’t wait to get my feet wet.
 
To our delight, we rolled into our driveway just before dinner and found things to eat in the freezer after unloading the car. Unfortunately, we got in too late to pick up the dogs from puppy camp. We’ll have to do that first thing in the morning, after a long restful night in our own beds!

Amber Leigh Williams

Amber has been writing sexy small town romance and pulse-pounding romantic suspense since 2006. Her Harlequin romance mini-series is set in her charming hometown of Fairhope, Alabama. She lives on the Alabama Gulf Coast where she loves being outdoors with her family, her dogs and a good book. Learn more at her website www.amberleighwilliams.com

Recommended Posts