Roads with Henley: Day 8: Denver >> Crested Butte, CO

I planned this trip with a lot of balance: I wanted to give myself enough time in each place, but I also had to make it back to Mass at some point. I knew I’d get tired of living on the road, but also didn’t want to move along too quickly and make each stop too short and thus, pointless. The journey is as important as the destination yadda yadda yadda, but I had to be careful planning how much driving I was going to have to do each day. So far, I think I’ve done a good job with the planning. There were times I’ve wanted to be someplace longer, but I’m also looking forward to places coming up, and ultimately being home. The fact that I feel both ways means I planned my time well.

The drive through the Midwest was really just my route to get out to the good stuff. No offense Midwest, I’m sure your kindness makes up for the tornados, but I just had other destinations I was looking forward to. When I got to the Denver, it was the first time I wish I had more time. At the same time, I couldn’t wait for the drive and to get to the next place: Crested Butte, Colorado. Which, I just learned, is pronounced bute, not butt, like I’ve been saying for months. Now this would be the second time I wish I had more time someplace.

I left the Denver Airbnb early. I had a few things to do before getting on the road. The most imperative stop was Beet Box, a vegan bakery. I took a coffee and one maple walnut donut and one double chocolate donut for the road. I couldn’t choose just one, so sue me. We then drove to RiNo, the River North neighborhood. I was told this was one of the more affordable neighborhoods so I checked it out like I did the others. Well I would hope it’s affordable -- it’s a craphole. I was’t sure where exactly to go so I just parked and started walking. That was my first mistake. I should have just driven and gotten an accurate-enough representation from the safety of my car. There weren’t even sidewalks. I walked by repair shops, dispensaries, I don’t know what else, just a lot of businesses that were not trying to attract business by their outward appearance. I felt like I wasn’t even supposed to be there, like I had wandered in an area not open to the public. The Platte River flows through the middle of the neighborhood so one would think they would try to capitalize on that and make it accessible and throw in some benches. Nope. I finally gave up trying to see the good here and made the walk back to the car, this whole time still carrying my brown paper bag of untouched donuts, waiting for a good spot to delve in.

The neighborhood was trying, though. Or at least, some people were trying to make it a worthy neighborhood. Or it was probably the only neighborhood they could afford to open a business. There were good looking shops and restaurants scattered throughout, but they were so sparse that instead of making RiNo look better, they just looked odd amongst the surrounding crap. I’m sure the neighborhood will get there, though, as the rest of Denver gets bought out and completely unaffordable, RiNo will come up and be the next place to live. So actually, I should have paid better attention because it is probably where I’d end up if I moved there. RiNo has close proximity to downtown so with a little makeover it wouldn’t be all that bad. Once back to the car, I drove around the rest of the small neighborhood that I hadn’t already walked. The top corner was all residential, and though still not great, at least it had sidewalks.

I couldn’t wait any longer. I pulled over at a gas station before getting on the highway to eat my donuts. While not gazing out at the mountains but instead at a broken down fence and a Camel Lights sign, I ceremoniously tore into the maple walnut donut. It was like breakfast at an apple orchard and the double chocolate was my dessert. I could be a full-time vegan if I had someone baking for me. I was well behaved and only ate half of each.

I hit the road for Pikes Peak in the Rockies, with an elevation of 14,115 feet above sea level. Pikes Peak Highway is a nineteen and a half mile road taking you to the summit. Driving this road was perhaps one of the scariest things I have ever done. There is no barrier between your car and your death! There are occasionally, and I mean real occasional, guard rails. The lanes are a normal width, but one side of the road was always a complete drop off. It was terrifying. I kept regretting going, but I knew it was stupid to turn around. How many thousands drive it and don’t fall off? I’m sure the views were breathtaking, but I sure as hell wasn’t looking over to see. We did make it to the top and it was beautiful. It was forty two degrees with snow on the ground, a welcome change from the city heat. I was so scared to get caught in the rain that kept taunting me so we snapped some photos and got back in the car. Just a long, deathly drive back down then heading east. But first, I deserved the rest of my donuts.

A traveler I follow on Instagram had posted the most beautiful pictures of a place full of mountains and wild flowers. I had to go there so I contacted her about where she camped. She travels in a Volkswagen Westfalia and does the dispersed camping a lot off forest roads so she was a valuable resource, as I had no idea how to do it before talking with her. I drove to Crested Butte, Colorado, but didn’t really know where to go from there. It is in Gunnison National Forest and being a national forest, allows public use of its land, but there is still a lot of private property within the forest. I drove and drove, after driving all day, and couldn’t find a place to camp. I finally went back to downtown and asked someone. I phrased my question like I was the only person to camp like this before. The girl told me which road to go down and to “just keep going” until I find it. I thought maybe she didn’t know exactly what I was looking for. But it was all I had to go on so I found the road and just kept driving. I was on a rough dirt road and drove past signs that said I was on private land for the next number of miles then I came to a sign that said Gunnison National Forest, telling me I was on public land again. And right away I realized that the girl I asked did know what I was looking for and that I was not the only person with this crazy idea. In the most beautiful place I may have ever been were spotted with Volkswagen vans, tents, and campers. They were few and far between but still enough campers to make me laugh at myself thinking I had such an original idea to come here.

I thought for a moment I must have driven off of Pikes Peak and died and gone to heaven. It’s really the best way to describe it: heavenly. Unfortunately it was past seven p.m. before I found a place to camp and I was leaving the next morning for southern Utah. I really could have used another whole day here to just hike around and sit and relax and admire its beauty.

I cooked up some rice and freeze-dried fire roasted veggies. I added a packet of hot sauce and cracked open a beer. Henley made friends with a Blue Heeler camping nearby. They romped around in muddy puddles -- the perfect way to end a day before sleeping in a car next to me. I ate an uncooked s’mores (because everything was too wet to make a fire) and read, all under the Milky Way.