I headed out at about 11am to Chautauqua Park on the westernmost edge of Boulder, just before the mountains. There was a trail I knew of that was there, but I also knew others existed that weren't on my tiny trail pamphlet, but it was a good place to start. Besides, I knew how to get there and where to park.
I got there to find a nice, simple, well-paved, and well-traveled path. And when I say "well-traveled" I don't just mean by adults. There were more dogs, children, and even infants, than I had ever expected to find on a trail.
Even from just that little hill, I still had a nice view of the town. The red roofs belong to my school (University of Colorado-Boulder, or CU). Keep an eye on them. They get smaller.
The nice stroller-friendly path turned a bit more treacherous, with a number of rocks poking out. I kept climbing. I didn't know exactly what path I was on, but I knew I wanted to go UP. And as long as there were plenty of people around, I didn't need to know the name of the trail.
Finally I made it through the mass of trees and got my first great view of the town of Boulder. See how much smaller the red roofs of CU are?
There was still so much higher I could climb. So I followed this lovely trail higher up. See the trail? Yeah, I didn't either. The only thing that really differentiates the trail from random rocks is the trail rocks are big and more worn because of all the feet that have traveled across them. Crazy? Yes, but I watch other people do it first, so why not?
It wasn't a one-time thing. The higher I went, the more rocks there were and the less dirt there was. I was pretty beat by this point, but I was determined to get to the top of this path here. I started to accept the fact that I wouldn't make it all the way to the summit, but I was going to get high and have a fantastic picture.
Just as I was about to stop, I figured I would go one step farther. This path is non-existant except for a few notches in rock that simulated a rock climb. After being on my hands and feet on the rock, I knew this was the last leg for me. If you look hard, you can kind of see the notch in the wall where the rocks were.
To my right was one of the sheer rock faces that give the Flatirons their name. It was almost unbelievable to see it and realize exactly what it was.
To my left was the largest rock face with people actually climbing up it. And you thought I was crazy.
After some 20 minutes or so, I headed back down the mountain. I thought going up was tough, but going down was actually scary. I couldn't take my eyes off my feet even for a second with those rocks under me. While a slide in one area may mean a scrape, a slide in another could mean a 30-foot slide down a rocky mountain face. When I made it to more stable ground I found the sign that told me where I went. The little zig-zaggy red line between the 1st and 2nd Flatirons. As you can see, I still have plenty to explore even once I've made it to the summit. Even after, there are still more mountains around.
I made it back to the nice happy path, turned around and looked at the mountain. I don't look at them the same now. They're not just scenery anymore. Now they're journeys.
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