Rocky Mountain National Park

Heading west from Boulder, the Rocky Mountains seemed to grow more majestic with every mile. Bethy had never seen the Rockies. Their imposing 13- and 14-thousand-foot peaks seemed to scrape the heavens; lightning and thunder overhead greeted our arrival. We crossed into the Rocky Mountain National Park from Estes Park--using Adam and Carmen's National Parks Pass gift for the first time--and began our ascent up the highest continuously paved highway in the world. Above and below, Beth and I pause along the drive, blasting Colorado-based String Cheese Incident and dancing with the pure elation brought on by the beginning of a great adventure.

I don't think the breadth of this vacation fully hit me until this point. Denver and Boulder had been awesome, no doubt, but looking down from nearly two-and-a-half miles at swirling clouds on this lonely road--just me and my wife--brought me to a different place for the first time. In fact, this was the first new territory for me on this trip.

Heading across the park on the Trail Ridge Road (I-34), we were on our way to the Continental Divide--the point at which all rainwater to the west goes to the Pacific and to the east goes to the Atlantic. The Great Divide represented our literal first foray into the West.

Beth cued "The Wedge" on the pod, a Phish song with the chorus, "Take the highway to the Great Divide..." We stepped out on the highway, at the point of the divide, turning the volume to full blast with the windows rolled down, and danced in celebration (below right).

The course itself was fairly easy. Dodging the occasional horse droppings proved more difficult than hitting par. Only two of the holes measured longer than 400 feet, and 11 pins were closer than 300 feet to their respective tees. A fox scampered past us midway through the course. Toward the end of the course, dark clouds assembled and faraway lightning illuminated the mountainscape. We wrapped up the 18th hole back at the ranch, and I broke 60 for the first time.

Winding the end of our day trip on the western edge of the park by Grand Lake was a dream. The cozy town embraced us with warm hospitality and a ridiculous suite at EP's that rivaled the luxurious accommodations back in Denver and Boulder. We learned that Grand Lake is named as such because it is Colorado's largest natural lake. But having spent so much time at Lake Tahoe, Grand Lake was a bit anticlimactic for me. Then again, Colorado is pretty dry. In fact, Colorado's water shortage reminded me of how the ancient civilization of Angkor in Cambodia likely self-destructed because its water supply dried up. Nobody seemed too concerned in Colorado.

The main drag of the sleepytown Grand Lake is shown below, with the wild afternoon sun cutting through some storm clouds.

But the best part of Grand Lake, without question, was catching up with our old friend from Boston University, Dave Hamer. The whole trip to Rocky Mountain National Park was an excuse to visit him in his home turf. Dave was alternating his summers and winters as a chef in Grand Lake and Winter Park.

For this summer, he was the staff chef at the Grand Lake Lodge, a top-notch dining establishment--and a National Historic Landmark since 1920.

For our first dinner together, we dined spectacularly at the Rapids Lodge, the echoing sound of a stream flowing speedily by the restaurant. Bethy ate elk, enjoying the very creature she saw in the wild only hours ago.

After dinner, Dave took us to a local bar that had dozens of stuffed animals on its walls and dozens of fine mullets at the bar. Beneath the head of a giant moose, Dave tried to explain that Grand Lake was a bastion of liberal thinking (and voting) in conservative Colorado. Looking around the bar, I found that hard to believe. The bar stools weighed about 50 pounds each, and I nearly pulled a muscle dragging one over to our table; Dave explained that the weight of the bar stools is intended to discourage bar fights. If the bar stools are too heavy to lift, they can't be thrown around during fights. Yes, really.

After a restful night in the sweet suite, we headed out for an 8-mile hike in the Rocky Mountain National Park. We figured we needed a solid hike to prepare us for Yosemite. Only minutes into the Green Mountain-Onahu Creek Trail, Beth spotted several moose (meese?) grazing in a clearing about 100 yards away. I ducked behind some trees and snapped the shot above. We sat in awe of the giant creatures, thinking them much more majestic when not stuffed and hanging on a wall.

We continued on our merry way after our friendly session with the moose.

We continued along the trail, past a sprawling clearing called "Big Meadows," and under the shadow of Mount (Corey) Patterson. Near the Onahu Creek, shown above with Bethy, the skies opened up and dumped cool Colorado rain--testing our ponchos for the first time. But it would take more than a thunderstorm to dampen our spirits, and we hiked back to the trailhead, to the car, and to the hotel for a nap, a shower, and another great dinner with Dave.

We met Dave at the Grand Lake Lodge, a highly impressive structure overlooking Grand Lake. We had dinner plans, but food would have to wait until after another round of disc golf. Behind the lodge, behind the staff's quarters, lay a hidden disc golf course--unknown to all but the Grand Lake Lodge staff. Dave took us to his private course, marked with ribbons on trees in a dense wooded area--back inside the National Park--and we faced off in the last hour of sunlight.

Exacting sweet revenge from the Las Vegas course less than three months earlier, Dave crushed me on his home course. I actually had a two-point lead on him through the first half, but he pulled away with some ridiculous shots--including an awe-inspiring albatross (a 2-shot on a par-5).

Below, Dave fires his driver through the maze of trees, somehow mastering the shot he referred to as "A huck and a prayer." My prayers went unanswered. One of my drives smacked a tree and rebounded behind me.

Dave gave us a tour of his quarters, a small-but-livable one-bedroom cottage behind the lodge. Seeing the living arrangements of his atypical lifestyle reminded me greatly of visiting Justin's bedroom when he was living on a sailboat. Below, I take a photograph of Bethy and Dave, with the Colorado flag, a Grateful Dead poster from 06/30/72, and my reflection in the background. Then we went to have our dinner. Even though Dave was our companion and not our chef, it was, without a doubt, the best meal of our honeymoon. And I'm not just saying that because it was Dave's treat, either.