I stare at the waterfall in front of me, my bare feet in the pond where last winter’s melted snow lands. I’ve reached the upper Fish Creek fall, deep in Northwest Colorado’s Routt National Forest. When I set out on the hike, I meant to get only halfway up. I spent the first twenty minutes mentally listing the possible dangers befalling a woman hiking alone. But the sound of the rushing water from above was louder than my mind. My feet are becoming numb soI put my shoes back on, pausing to take in the sprawling views of the Yampa Valley. Not a bad start to my first solo vacation.
I’ve always longed to vacation by myself. Lately, that longing has turned into a must. A week before our summer vacation, I float the idea of my hanging back in Steamboat a couple of days after the rest of my family leaves. I’m ready to persuade my husband with strong arguments about my need for solitude but it turns out I don’t need them. I pull out my phone to shoot some video when I realize I’ve gone off the rail.
The alpine vistas that a minute ago seemed majestic turn menacing and feel a surge of panic. I choose between two seemingly identical paths and my choice turns out to be right. Just in case, I latch onto the next group of hikers that pass me. Being a city girl, I’m still taken aback by the lack of signs on trails, but the mountains require a certain level of self-sufficiency. I feel comfortable joining a group of strangers because, here in Steamboat Springs, Kindness Floats the Boat.
I’m starving by the time I get to my car so I head into downtown. The ten-block stretch along Highway 40 – filled with restaurants, shops and art galleries – is the heart of Steamboat Springs. My mind sorts through the mouth-watering choices for a late lunch. Since I’m feeling pretty scruffy from the hike, I opt for take-out at one of the food trucks along the Yampa River that passes through town on its way to Utah.
I find a spot near the river bank, and unwrap the veggie sandwich which turns out to be a huge burger. I have not eaten a burger in fifteen years. I consider walking back to the food truck to return it but my last meal was early morning and it’s now closer to dinner time. I decide to eat a few bites only and end up devouring the whole thing.
After, I sink into a food coma. This part of the Yampa, littered with tubers floating downstream, is like a big party. A few people kneel on paddle boards and I wonder if I could maneuver mine over the rocks. When I ask the manager at the sports rental shop, the manager asks me if I’m good on a board before telling me about all the people who get banged up when their paddle catches a rock. I tell him I’ll stick with paddling around Steamboat Lake.
By now, I’m in need of caffeine so I walk over to Big Iron Coffee. My husband has asked for a bag of his favorite coffee and it’s the least I can do while he holds down the fort. I buy the bag of locally roasted beans and the barista tells me my my cup of coffee is on the house.
I call my fourteen-year-old daughter again, and she sends me to voicemail, again. She is mad at me, which is hardly unusual. But this time she is really, really mad and I want to get back on her good side. As I walk into one of the only brand-name store in town, I consider the power that moms and daughters have over each other. I try to use mine wisely, saving it for special occasions. My daughter wields hers with abandon.
A poster condemning capitalism sits at the register counter. I pay the hundred bucks for my daughter’s yoga pants and cross the street to Ohana boutique. The store’s, locally designed prints make everything from t-shirts to coffee mugs unique. They also carry a jewelry selection made by local artists.
Steamboat summer days can get hot so I change into my bathing suit and head for Old Town Hot Springs. The water slide and large kiddie pool make it popular with young families. The state-of-the-art fitness center and natural springs lap pools makes OTHS a locals’ favorite too. The water, rich in minerals, comes from a hot-springs in downtown. After cooling my body in the lap pool, I sink into the hot tub and inhale the scent of the surrounding pine trees.
It’s after eight pm and I’m ready to call it a day. On my drive back, the road opens to reveal unobstructed views of the valley. The sun has started its descent behind Emerald Mountain, bathing everything below in a pink and orange glow. I turn my car around and come back on the same road, chasing the perfect sunset shot. But no picture can do this justice so I pull over the side of the road and watch.
In the distance, I can see the dark silhouette of Elk Mountain, dubbed Sleeping Giant by the locals. Ancient lore has it a giant protected the native residents of the Yampa Valley who gave him eternal life in exchange for his oath to never harm anyone. After the giant breaks his oath (to be fair, he killed an ogre that threatened the village) he was cursed to eternal rest. To make sure no one disturbed him, the residents captured rattlesnakes and let them loose around him. I’m not a fan of rattlesnakes but I like the idea of someone watching over me tonight.
MUST LOVE CHOCOLATE 