RMNP Trip 1

On the road again. Mid-way through today's trip, I wondered what had possessed me to add 5000 feet and subtract 20 degrees, when I was finally getting warm after six months of winter at Denver's mile high altitude.

I can lay partial blame on the dog. At 13, his life resembles a typical mammal's early days - eat, sleep, poop, lather, rinse, repeat. Approximately every 2 hours he awakes, struggles to arise, and engages in a vigorous round of "I can bark louder than you and I will not stop until you give in", which is my reassurance that despite his weakening body, his spirit is still alive and kicking!

As he has no interest in the treasures of his youth, stuffed squeaky toys and chicken flavored nyla-bones, we are left with two options - food or walk, and walk is only acceptable to the beast if it is followed by food. We have now added a third approved activity: road trip. Unfortunately, his favorite road trip activity is barking. Sigh. Someday soon I will wish for that bark, so I try now to let him go for it, until I just can't stand it anymore.

Today's destination was Rocky Mountain National Park, hopefully the first visit of many. I have traded, figuratively speaking, my ski season pass for an RMNP annual pass, and I hope to continue my pattern of venturing out mid-week once weekly, as part of my promise to myself to enjoy unemployment, or at least do some things that I won't be able to do regularly when I begin my next 20+ year working stint.

Checking out the park web page a day or two ago, I was pleasantly surprised to read that my canine co-pilot could accompany me into the park. I had previously believed that state and national parks were especially prohibitive in that regard. Of course, he isn't welcome in the back country or on hiking trails, but "wherever cars are allowed" seems reasonable and is good enough for me and my geriatric companion. I don't dare let him out anyway, lest he not be able to load back up again. I can't exactly lift his 100 pound mass.

Approaching Estes Park, I was excited to encounter this scene. Two hours later, my frame of reference was reframed.

Having left my map at home, I flipped a coin in Estes Park and followed the signs to the south park entrance, which led me to the Beaver Meadows Visitor Center and Beaver Meadows Entrance Station. On a future visit, I will go the other way to the Fall River entrance, only a short way further on Highway 34. Or maybe not - it appears that I can enter at Beaver Meadows on Highway 36 and head northwest from there, connecting to Highway 34. Of course I will do it both ways eventually.

Heading southwest into the park, we passed Moraine Park, and made a mental note to stop there on the way back. It looks like one of those obligatory photo spots. At Hollowell Park, I used the facilities while the hound sounded the alarm. Being mostly deaf and partially blind, he totally missed my return, and I had to make a giant fuss until he realized I was back safely.

Wildlife spotted at this stop included a magpie (I love their bold black and white outfits) and a couple of what I am going to guess were mountain blue birds. I didn't have the equipment to capture the shot, and I wasn't close enough to see precise detail, but it seemed that it was almost completely blue, matching internet pictures labeled "mountain blue bird", and I was in the mountains after all. Plus I know I can believe everything I read on the internet, so there you have it, proof positive.

The end of the road today was at the Bear Lake Trailhead. Time to stop and smell the photos.

Now tilt your head to the right.

Tilt back to center.

Hazy gloom up top - will try for better images on a future trip.

Driving back down the mountain, I pulled over again and again, to the increasing frustration of D O G.

 

Objects in mirror are closer than they appear.

I'm an "arm-chair" photographer, or maybe just plain lazy, typically shooting through an open window, or standing on the center console to pop out through the sunroof. Occasionally on a road trip I will actually park and get out for a better angle. Occasionally I will even stop driving before shooting.

I keep an eye on the dog with a fish-eye mirror. Boy was he ever pissed when I pulled over on a side dirt road and killed the engine to quietly watch and shoot the wildlife (no hunting allowed in the park - I was shooting with a Canon Rebel).

This is the road-side scene that trivialized my earlier excitement.

It wasn't easy to get them all to pose this way.

After repeatedly breaking my promise to barky boy to head for home, I finally hit the highway and stopped stopping (well, just one more stop). He was relieved. Wildlife patrol is exhausting when your eyes and ears are useless and your nose is your primary patrol tool.

Back at home, Network waits for me to unload him. After maneuvering him onto the blanket, I pull it until his front half clears the edge, then gently lift him out the rest of the way. He is too unstable to use a ramp - he is, after all, the human equivalent of a 90 year old man.