If ‘heavily trafficked’ is used to describe the volume of other potential recreationists one might see on a trail, I often make a point to seek out a lesser-trafficked path. One of the great comforts of nature for me is solitude, quiet—a respite from Denver’s constant cacophony—somewhere to clear my thoughts and enjoy the natural world. That said, high trail traffic volumes are not absolute, and desperate for nearby adventure, I elected to make a gamble: would I encounter crowds on one of the most popular trails in Colorado if I were to go on a weekday after work? 

U.S. Highway 40 affords travelers on I-70 an immediate avenue to reach the popular ski area Winter Park, as well as the eastern side of Rocky Mountain National Park. This avenue requires one to go over Berthoud Pass, the highest point of said highway that winds circuitously through Colorado. It was here my adventure started, where a small, un-marked trail headed uphill and west on the Continental Divide. 

I got a lucky payout on my gamble, finding only a few cars parked in the large lot at the apex on the pass. Though I was tired from the workday, I was ecstatic to squeeze a hike into the evening’s itinerary. Brilliant golden light illuminated the trees overhead as I began my ascent, as a cool breeze reminded me I was close to timberline. 

As I continued my ascent, the trees began to thin, and wildflowers radiated among the alpine grasses.

I rounded a corner to find a series of switchbacks that would lead to the top of the Continental Divide. Sallying forth, I almost accidentally stepped on a what I believe to be a Rock Ptarmigan, camouflaged perfectly for the alpine tundra. I apologized profusely after snapping some pictures, and continued up the switchbacks.

At the top of the ridge, the incline relented and gave way to a leveler stroll to the signed boundary of the Vazquez Wilderness. Many stop their hike here, but I decided to continue. 

Remnants of winter’s snow hugged the sheer walls of the surrounding terrain.

The views were beyond impressive: unnamed ephemeral ponds in the mini-basins below; jagged mountains all around; no one else in sight.

With no established goal in mind, I consulted a map. The map informed me that it would only take a bit of additional effort to reach the summit of Stanley Mountain, which seemed like a fun objective, given I share a last name with whoever it was named after (cursory research yielded nothing here).

Topping out on the summit at 12,521′, my fiery need for outdoors time and exercise was temporarily satiated, and I spent little time taking in the surroundings before starting my trek back.

The true golden hour had come by the time I’d made egress from Vazquez Wilderness. Beyond stopping to snap a few additional pictures during my descent, the way back was a blur.

It was nice to be in the mountains once again. My only thought as I returned to my vehicle was, I sure can’t wait for some more adventures this summer.