Ouray Had Other Plans
A summer trip to the San Juans, a storm-spooked dog, and a wildfire on the ridge
A week ago, Bret and I (ok, mostly Bret this time) once again packed up the NuCamp for a trip to one of our favorite places in Colorado, Ouray.
While it's usually just the two of us escaping into the mountains, this time we were going with Bret's parents, who had driven all the way from Virginia. Bret's dad recently retired, so his parents escaped the East Coast humidity and took advantage of the time to see more of the country, and explore a new area of Colorado during the summer months. They have historically always visited in the winter, but given they prefer warmer weather over ski slopes, we convinced them to come out in the summer instead. We were sure they would love it.
Before arriving in Colorado, they spent time at a beautiful resort called Shortgrass in South Dakota where they were able to experience the Badlands and Mt. Rushmore. They even managed to stop in Nebraska and have lunch with my parents. Somehow, after nearly ten years together, our parents had never met. I guess it just took a cross-country road trip to finally make it happen.
After a couple nights at our house, we headed out to Ouray. Bret and I with the camper and Milton in tow, while his parents followed behind in their brand-new Land Cruiser. We were going to spend four nights at the Amphitheater Campground overlooking town, while they checked into the Beaumont Hotel a few minutes below.
The previous summer, Bret and I spent a long weekend in Ouray, where we climbed Mt. Sneffels, hiked a nearby trail called the Bridge to Heaven, soaked at Orvis Hot Springs, and had a memorable dinner at Brickhouse 737 on the upper patio overlooking Main Street. Bret couldn't wait to show his parents why we wanted to come back.
They're not hikers, but with all the epic 4x4 roads in the area, and two Land Cruisers, we were excited to show them the high alpine in a way they'd never experienced, starting with the Alpine Loop. We underestimated how stressful the weather would become on this particular trip.
We underestimated how stressful the weather would become on this particular trip.
Colorado Summer
The first night after Bret's parents arrived, Evergreen was hit by one of the biggest storms we'd seen in years.
Rain hammered the house for over two hours. Hail piled up in the yard. Creeks overflowed, roads washed out, and neighborhoods nearby dealt with flooding. Our rain gauge recorded nearly 5 inches in two hours.
Thankfully our house and most of our driveway escaped any major damage, but Milton, who's severely afraid of thunderstorms, had a rough night, which means we did too.
By morning, the rain had moved on, but the wind was just getting started as we began the drive to Ouray. We faced a relentless 40-60 mph headwind most of the way, which made for slow progress and even worse gas mileage.
The forecast wasn't especially encouraging either. Hot. Dry. Windy. A Red Flag Warning 🚩. Not exactly what you hope to see heading into late June in western Colorado, but we were committed, so we stuck with the plan.
Racing the Rain
Though we were a bit behind schedule, we still managed to stop in Eagle for lunch at Pickled Kitchen, a place that's somehow become mandatory anytime we're passing through. If you go, try the Reuben or Greek salad, and don't question whether you should buy one of their massive cookies while checking out.
We rolled into the campground just as the raindrops started, which was good timing, because Bret's 2000 LX 470 was struggling (as was I). We'd spent the last hour smelling gas, and at the fill-up the tank had built up serious pressure. It turns out a 26-year-old 4-speed with 230 horsepower isn't the ideal towing rig. The issue fixed itself (or so Bret keeps telling himself), but he still swore he was buying a new car when we got home. We both know he won't.
After a few deep breaths, we shook off the stress of the drive, got our camp set up, and managed to make some dinner for Bret's parents, who joined us at the campground as the rain (not the wind) cleared. Burgers, Texas caviar, and a bag of salad. A bit different than the gourmet meals they'd been enjoying at their last resort, but I noticed Bret's mom, Sandy, was enjoying it as she remembered the camping trips she took as a kid with her parents and their little camper.
That night stayed surprisingly warm, and the combination of wind, distant thunder, and unfamiliar surroundings was too much for Milton.
He paced. He panted. He squeezed himself into increasingly impossible corners of the camper looking for somewhere that felt safe.
Eventually, I surrendered my side of the bed and moved into the little dinette so he'd have room to stretch out beside Bret. (My neck is still recovering as I write this.)
Neither of us slept much. Milton had had two seizures in the past few months, and at 3am, running on no sleep, every rough night felt like it might bring on another. I started pricing rental cars, wondering if I should just drive him home. You rarely make your best decisions sleep-deprived.
Morning in Ouray
Morning made everything feel a little more manageable, though the wind was still going strong.
We hiked down the trail from our campground into town to meet Bret's parents, where we got some much-needed coffee and explored the Main Street shops.
One of the things I love about Ouray is that it still feels like a real mountain town. Yes, there are plenty of visitors in the summer, but it's small enough to not feel completely congested, and it's got a very Wild West vibe to it (a contrast to its equally beautiful but bougie cousin, Telluride).
Later in the afternoon, Bret took his dad, Brad, out on their first drive on the nearby 4x4 road to Yankee Boy Basin, while Sandy rested at the hotel. I intended to do the same at the camper given my sleeping schedule had sucked for a few nights straight, but ended up swimming a few laps at the nearby pool instead, where it felt like I was in the ocean thanks to the 50 mph wind gusts. Did I mention it was windy?
Dinner and a Show
That evening, as we were getting ready to go to dinner, I noticed smoke rising above the ridge north of town.
A few minutes later, my phone rang.
"I can see flames," Bret said from downtown.
That's not the kind of sentence you ever want to hear on vacation.
Over the next hour we focused on getting what few updates we could to determine what we should do next. One complication was that a Verizon tower had gone down, leaving much of the area with unreliable cell service. Thankfully, we had Starlink at camp, which became a lifeline for us to stay updated.
The Watch Duty app, which is an incredible resource if you're ever near a fire, stayed open almost constantly, as did TrekWeather.
I hadn't expected to use our own app much during the trip given we weren't planning on doing much hiking, but suddenly wind direction mattered a lot.
It's one thing to read "winds from the southeast." It's another to see arrows on a map showing exactly where fire and smoke are likely to travel.
We also found ourselves checking air quality throughout the day and checking Bret's new lightning potential feature, hoping lightning wouldn't complicate things further but wishing for some rain at the same time.
Given the direction of the wind, and the fact that the town wasn't in immediate danger, even with the fire line just 1.6 miles away, we stayed and continued with our dinner plans. The food was every bit as good as we remembered. The mood wasn't.
From the patio we could see the smoke and glow of flames rising to the north. It seemed like many of the restaurant staff lived near the area of the fire, and you could feel the tension and uncertainty taking over the town. We went to bed that night with our phones off silent, checking the progress of the fire periodically throughout the night, while Milton's panting continued.
Making the Best of It
While the next 24 hours demanded constantly checking updates and conditions to determine whether it was still safe to stick around, we did manage to enjoy a few moments.
Bret, Milton, and I hiked to Upper Cascade Falls before the temperatures climbed the next morning. I was surprised at how fast Milton was moving, and he got to thoroughly enjoy the water once we got to the falls.
We took Sandy and Brad on another 4x4 road via Corkscrew Gulch, and though it wasn't Sandy's ideal vacation activity (these roads can definitely be a bit terrifying if you've never experienced them before), Brad seemed to thoroughly enjoy being behind the wheel. Marriage is a constant compromise.
The views were spectacular, as were the wildflowers and high alpine lakes that Milton got to swim in. We even managed to find a few patches of snow he could roll around on.
At that moment I realized I couldn't control how quickly Milton was aging (or anything else, really). I could only make sure he has as many days like this as possible.
I couldn't control how quickly Milton was aging, or anything else really. I could only make sure he has as many days like this as possible.
That evening we enjoyed a cocktail in the courtyard of the Beaumont, and at one point, a black bear wandered through the alley, very on brand for the weekend. I wondered if Bret's parents would ever want to travel West again.
Time to Move Along
Eventually, we decided to head home a day early. The fire continued growing, and while there were still no evacuation orders for the town, the stress of constantly not knowing what was going to happen wore on us. It didn't feel smart to stick around.
Driving north, smoke lingered across much of western Colorado, and the air quality got worse and worse. This unfortunately wasn't the only fire burning in the state, and it was only June.
I kept thinking about the trails we'd hiked the previous summer and how they were likely smoldering now. I thought about the firefighters working hard to keep communities safe and the impact on the surrounding residents, animals, and businesses, while feeling grateful that we were able to get out safely. As of this writing, the fire has grown over 26,000 acres and is 0% contained.
Bret's parents probably didn't get the version of Ouray we'd hoped to show them, but they did get enough stories to keep conversations interesting for years.
The mountains rarely give us the trip we planned. More often, they give us the one we'll remember.