Westward Ho

In an effort to escape Kansas City’s notorious summer arm-pit-sticking weather, last week Cutest  and I decided to drive out and enjoy the cooler temperatures of the Rocky Mountains.

We departed on the morning of the 4th of July. Knowing that the trek across Kansas would drain our brains and butts, we took refuge in Hays that evening.

Outside of Fort Hays State college, Hays doesn’t pop up in very many conversations. Having done my homework before leaving, I happily discovered that Hays boasts a spectacular fireworks show. And it was. We joined fellow travelers and locals at the city park where after the sun set we were treated to not one, not two, but three or five outstanding over lapping illuminated explosive displays. Sadly, I was too busy watching to take any great pics.

The farms and homes neighboring Hays have apparently been kind and profitable to their owners, allowing them to spend thousands of dollars on pyrotechnics that rival many cities across America. Our hotel manager, who was oblivious to all the fireworks still going off at 11 PM all the way over at I-70, said there's not that much to do in Hays so people saved all year for the big shebang and it was the most important night of the year. Yep.

Feeling refreshed, the following morning Cutest and I rode on into the Rocky Mountains, coming to a stop in the famous ski resort of Vail. Babbling streams, lush green mountain slopes dotted with boulders and high altitude pockets of snow composed an artful vista.

Vail looks as though a team of Disney World designers drew up the plans for the Swiss like store and hotel fronts, complete with a babbling river rolling through the center of the village. I was expecting the VonTrapp family to suddenly magically come marching over the hills, skipping, grinning and singing.

A day trip saw us taking in the touristy town of nearby Breckenridge, a one time gold rush community. Now it hosts skiers and others enjoying the aspen lined main street with its variety of bars, restaurants, ice cream shops and souvenir stores.

After four days in Vail, we motored north to Estes Park. To get there I chose the longer, more scenic drive. However, I overlooked the fact that Estes Park is a federal park which today means you must have an appointment to enter, as an effort at crowd control. For “general admission“ visitors’ entrance began at 2 PM.

For our two hour delay, we back tracked a couple of miles to a crystal clear lake and its marina. A glass of wine, a bag of potato chips and a very friendly and free with conversation marina manager entertained us, eventually showing us the pirate boat he had built, almost ready to saill with 10 year olds enamored by pirate lore and promised buried booty.

Soon we were back at the park gate, following a dozen others. Estes has picturesque mountain scenery, lush green valleys and of course that babbling river.

While winding up and down the mountain, Cutest had her brave face on, calculating the distance from her front row passenger seat to the edge of eternity. She deserved her glass of wine that evening.

In Estes, our layover was at the hotel Stanley. Just as the 20th century was beginning, a Mr. Stanley, like THE builder of the Stanley Steamer automobile, oversaw the construction of a beautiful hotel. This way his charming wife could invite her friends from back east to come out west and relax in style and comfort.

Later that evening as we strolled near the front porch, we came upon two elk, one calf and the other its mom. Each was bedded down in their own clump of landscaping, oblivious to those walking near by.  Once again I thought the folks from the Disney World and their animatronics division had lent a hand.

The following morning, inhaling fresh mountain air, we reloaded the SUV, topped off our water bottles and headed home

At least now there’s only a couple of months of the Midwest summer remaining.  And we’re eager for our trip next month, frosty Des Moines.