First Stop: Steamboat Springs, CO

The drive was beautiful as I passed through Leadville, Silverthorne, and Kremmling to get here. It was interesting to watch the landscape change as I drove this far north for the first time. The elevation lowered, the mountains were less jagged, and people became sparse. I decided to set up camp on the road leading to Buffalo Pass, about 30 minutes outside the Steamboat.

I backed my camper into a spot (This is a big deal. Jelly Bean is a squirrely mf) nestled between tall bushes and a wildflower cover mountainside. As I stepped outside, I immediately notice how lush it felt. The mountains are rolling, all below tree-line with beautiful open valleys between that are filled with life. Birds are constantly chirping, the smell of insects as they mosey around, green grass, and my god, the flowers were in full bloom.

I hadn't been back to Steamboat since I was a kid. We used to come here every winter with my dad's side of the family to ski. There are portraits in our house where I am a short tubby dumpling in a tight purple vest, missing my front tooth, wearing a crazy dread-like helmet cover. I was eager to check it out as a young adult so I quickly set up camp, threw on some bike clothes, and hit the road. The drive there had me in awe as I drove past Lake Catamount and dropped into the valley that holds Steamboat. Everything opened up to beautiful expansive ranches hunkered down in the middle of the tree covered mountaintops. In contrast to the Crested Butte views I am used to, this brought me a sense of comfort. It felt calmer in a way.

As I got into town, my mind was blown. This place was bustling! As much as I had tried, I had no memory of the town, and what I had imagined did not match reality. I could see the development below the resort as I approached. Four-lane streets down the main strip, stop lights, round-about, condos, hotels. The whole damn shebang! When I first pulled in, I kept trying to find a historic downtown area. After much searching, I soon realized I was in it; it just didn't feel or look like what I'm used to. The town is geographically small yet it gave me a city feel.

I headed over to Howlelsen Park to ride the Emerald Mountain Trail System on the edge of town. I set out on about an hour-long ride as it was 93 degrees outside; Fucking scorcher! This is when I felt the true spirit of the town came to light. Arriving at the trailhead I saw people unloading their bikes, drinking post-ride brews, a group of individuals playing sand volleyball with a radio blasting some funky tunes. The sight of the Howleson Ski jump made me smile as there was no snow to cover it. It calmed my overwhelmed senses from my short drive through town. It felt like home.

My ride was quiet; I only saw one person on the trails. I weaved through tall bushes and dense trees as I climbed. When I came across the rock, it made me chuckle, as it is a very different texture from what I've seen. Not jagged like Crested Butte or smooth like the rock found in Moab. It almost looked volcanic with smooth divots throughout. Not to mention, I was riding right on top of town! The views were incredible. I could see it's not big at all. In fact, I don't see it having much more room to grow. Even though I don't live here, that realization made me happy for those who do. The ride down was fast and flowy, over before I knew it! It had me leaving with a grin.

After, I walked over to the Yampa, which stretches through town, to dip my toes. The water was shockingly warm. I wished I could jump in, but it was too shallow to do so. The light reflected off the river and illuminated the trees to an alluring neon green color. It was hard to take my eyes off of, but I had to head home to eat.

I sat in a coffee shop the following day and had the chance to listen and observe those around me. I heard the workers discuss a morning ride. One of them has to move home because they lost their housing. The people behind me had met for a project, and it sounds like the wifi here is faster than theirs at home. The guy to my left had a large backpacking pack. It looked like he had just rolled out of the woods and stopped for a coffee before heading back out.

I found the longer I stayed in Steamboat, the more I enjoyed it. The hustle and bustle is a facade of the visitors coming to enjoy the town just as I have. The locals want, desire, struggle, and pursue the same as me. Although this place is more populated and a bit more commercialized, I came to appreciate the fact that through it's growth, it's mountain town spirit was able to reign true.

I must learn to have understanding for these towns as I am spoiled coming from the Butte. Inevitably, my tiny town will grow, and when it does, I hope it to look and feel something like this rather than a blown-out Breck. All and all, Steamboat grew on me and I hope to be back.

Onto the next town I go.