The last car passed 30 minutes ago. Since then, the only life along this lonely length of highway has been four-legged or feathered. Even the radio offers nothing but crackling static. In this high chaparral landscape, more suggestive of Outer Mongolia than Colorado, antelope outnumber people. To an urban dweller the sprawling nothingness can be unsettling.
This lonesome stretch of blacktop is the backdoor route to Steamboat Springs. Beginning in Fort Collins, State Highway 14 winds through some of the most diverse geography in the state. It's not the quickest way to Colorado's northernmost ski town, but for wide open spaces and long sightlines, it can't be beat.
State Highway 14 is not a road to rush along. At 150 miles long, it can be driven in just over three hours. But this route is meant for meandering. And with ten hours of daylight ahead, I'm in no hurry.
Morning light spills over the Front Range as I leave Fort Collins. Slipping through a fold in the foothills, I enter Poudre Canyon, a 40-mile gash carved into ancient rock over eons by the Cache La Poudre River. Although the canyon has been traveled for centuries-archeologists have uncovered evidence of visitors dating back more than 8,000 years-traffic is light on this weekday morning.
Folks are already out enjoying the cool canyon air. Cyclists hug the shoulder while puffing up the long incline. The day's first river runners bob downstream on inflated inner tubes. Fly fishermen work the pools and riffles. I stop at pull-outs and wander along worn river rock and sandbars, stopping to watch kingfishers and great blue herons stalk breakfast in the shallows.
Along one still stretch, a tiny, white-haired woman in hip waders stands midstream, casting upriver into an eddy. Betty Parks and her husband Al drive here from Omaha every summer to fish. At least that's what Betty does. Al sits in the shade of a ponderosa watching his nimble mate navigate the algae-slickened river bottom.
"We have an agreement," he chuckles. "She catches the dang things, I clean them, and we both eat 'em!"
Deeper into the canyon, the walls steepen and close in. Passing through the village of Kinikinik, famous as one of the longest palindromic place names in the world (it reads the same either direction), the road leaves the Poudre River and winds out of the canyon through sweet-smelling forests of pine and spruce toward Cameron Pass.
Biking
At 10,276 feet, the pass divides the Medicine Bow Mountains to the north from the Never Summer Mountains in the south. In the parking lot, lycra-clad cyclists unload mountain bikes and wheel into the woods. A trio of Japanese tourists has me snap their photo under the electric blue sky. The scene is classic Colorado, but as I head west off the pass, the view turns apocalyptic: a landscape under siege.
Entire mountainsides, once green with healthy ponderosa and lodgepole pine, are a sickly orange-red. The mountain pine beetle is devastating forests across the state, and the rolling hills and valleys west of Cameron Pass are a prime example of beetle kill. Scientists fear that continuing mild winters will keep the epidemic spreading across the western United States.
Coming off the mountain, I drop into North Park, a sprawling glacial basin 35 miles wide by 45 miles long. To the south lie the Rabbit Ears Mountains. North is Wyoming. In between are a few tiny towns and a lot of empty space.
North Park is also moose country. On this summer morning, Moose Visitor Center at State Forest State Park buzzes with life. Dive-bombing hummingbirds, plump goldfinches, and nervous nuthatches jam the feeders, but the only moose in sight is a life-size wire sculpture in front. Still, it's a prelude to the critters ahead.
A few miles before Walden, the dry basin floor abruptly turns into lush wetlands crisscrossed by meandering streams. This is Arapaho National Wildlife Refuge, a managed waterfowl nesting area where thousands of ducks stop each spring and fall. At the overlook just off the highway, a pair of northern harriers patrols the sage hillsides. In the river below, a dozen white pelicans bob and paddle, dipping their massive bills into the water as they feed. Swallows chase bugs in the sage-scented air. It's an unexpected oasis in the high-plains emptiness of North Park.
With a population hovering around 750, Walden is the largest town in the valley. The welcome sign proclaims Walden the moose viewing capital of Colorado, but once again I'm skunked-the only sign of wildlife is a posse of teens lounging outside an abandoned laundromat. The main street is packed with dusty pick-up trucks and SUVs, their owners patronizing the hodgepodge of cafes, taxidermy shops, guide services and knick-knack boutiques.
Beyond Walden, mile after lonely mile of lovely country unfolds, interrupted only by an occasional cattle ranch. Abandoned cabins squat in the sage, wind whistling through gaping windows and sagging doorframes. Pulling off the road, I wander up a hill and sit in the silence.
At the western edge of North Park my splendid isolation ends where State Highway 14 meets Highway 40 and Muddy Pass. Pine and aspen forests appear, and a few miles later I reach Rabbit Ears Pass at 9,426 feet. From here it's a long downhill coast into Steamboat Springs.
Dusk is falling as I roll into town past the flickering neon pink rabbit at the Rabbit Ears Motel. Much of downtown Steamboat closes early on summer evenings, leaving tourists to fend for themselves between the ice cream parlor and handful of restaurants along Lincoln Avenue. I end up at Mahogany Ridge Brewpub for dinner and some local music. When I leave at 9:30 p.m. the streets are empty.
But the town wakes up early on weekends. First stop is the Saturday farmers' market on the courthouse lawn. Joining soccer moms, dreadlocked Rastafarian wannabes and leathery ranchers, I peruse stands offering buffalo meat, organic peaches, portabella mushrooms, sheep cheese and barbeque pork sandwiches. The people-watching is as good as the shopping, a mix of eccentric, outdoorsy and moneyed locals hefting melons and sniffing homemade soaps.
Walden
Like other Colorado ski towns, Steamboat has no dearth of kitschy tourist stores. But tucked between the fast food joints and t-shirt shops, or hidden down quiet side streets, are little gems waiting to be discovered.
Try Off The Beaten Path bookstore for a morning latte and a browse through local photo books. Sweet Pea Market, housed in an old pole barn along the river on Yampa Street, offers fresh produce, homemade pies and a coffee bar with free WiFi. Historic F. M. Light and Sons has been at 830 Lincoln Avenue for more than 100 years, outfitting customers in authentic Western wear.
Freshly caffeinated, I cross the Yampa by bridge and walk to Howelsen Hill ski jump, where the sound of skis racing down a steep run rattles through the morning air. The snow melted months ago, but today young skiers plummet down the porcelain-surfaced jump, lifting off at the end and soaring impossibly long distances before hitting the plastic-covered landing hill below. A fall would be ugly, but in dozens of runs nobody goes down.
By late afternoon I'm swinging up the flank of Mt. Werner on the ski resort gondola. Within minutes the town and mountains to the west shrink to a tiny museum panorama far below. At the top, biking and hiking trails fan out in every direction. Eliminate the croaking ravens, drop some cows on the hillside and squint just a bit, and this could be the Swiss Alps.
Far from the clatter and clutter of the Front Range, the route from Fort Collins to Steamboat is the road less traveled. Few Colorado highways offer such a geological smorgasbord of canyons, rivers, high plains and alpine passes. Take the time to savor this untrammeled path and find your own quiet place.
And good luck with the moose.
Article by: Eric Lindberg, a Lakewood-based writer and photographer.
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