Lily Lake and Ute Pass

The first day found most of the family ready for a hike. We took a lovely stroll (you couldn't really call it a hike :) around Lily Lake and found out... just how slow it is to meander with a three year old. We likewise realized just how difficult that wildflower protection law is for a bud loving tike to observe. But all of the Uncles had ready shoulders and oodles of patience, leaving P's slow-moving mountain love intact.

The next day, P was determined to reach the top of "Snow Mountain" (any peak still covered in white.) So we headed into Rocky Mountain National Park with Grandpapa to find a good trail, wherever that would be. But the trail we wanted kept escaping us and we climbed higher and higher until we realized we were nearing the divide. A nice volunteer at the scenic overlook told us our path was close, so we kept going.



And whadyaknow? Our stop was just about at the top of the mountain and even had huge pockets of snow. The actual trail was elusively lost beneath the powder, rocks and little streams, so we just followed P skywards. The area was gloriously empty of other travelers and we even found two separate bear tracks. Grandpapa introduced P to lichens with a compelling story (that P translated to Seth a few days later: "Those are creatures that eat the rocks and turn them into water!") Eventually, we settled down for a snack and a snowball fight (snowballs in June? The kid was in heaven!) until E wandered off to a scenic vista and we were compelled to join him for a photo op.




After that, P was ready to skiddadle so we strapped him onto Grandpapa's back to avoid him sliding down the snowy slope. He seriously scrutinized the ground all the way down, calling out "more poop!" every time he spotted scat. And poop and rock creatures remained his fave finds for the rest of the trip.


That evening we went out to Lily Lake again to try a trail that climbs up and around the water. There are boulders and pine cones (pickable by law!) everywhere and P happily climbed and pocketed his way along the trail. He was like a happy little billy goat, sampling everything his concrete jungle doesn't provide. If only skyscrapers were made out of boulders...