St. Vrain State Park
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We woke up at St. Vrain State Park after a lively first evening along the lake, with diving osprey, a cruising muskrat, and constant shoreline commotion. We hopped on our bikes and made a full loop around the park to see what else was waiting for us.
White Pelicans at St Vrain
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White pelicans fished in formation, tipping forward in perfect unison, booties to the sky like synchronized swimmers. A raft of Western Grebes glided low across the water. Blue herons stood statuesque along the banks. One osprey appeared to have claimed a favorite perch and was not taking applications for roommates. A cormorant vanished beneath the surface and reappeared moments later with a fish clamped triumphantly in its beak. A bold red-winged blackbird patrolled near our campsite like he owned the place.
Later that afternoon, as we exited the park for a trip to Boulder, we passed a busy prairie dog village along the roadside, heads popping up and down. We wandered through the Boulder Farmers Market, grabbed dinner from a food truck, and ate at one of the portable tables while live music played nearby. My overpriced $17 Cuban paella came in a surprisingly small portion and left me unimpressed, so we followed it up with a second round of tacos. Afterward, we headed over to Eben G. Fine Park. As we sat by the water, whitewater kayakers worked their way through the light rapids, rising and dipping with the current. College kids lounged along the riverbank, soaking up the afternoon.
Then we drove up Flagstaff Road, which turned out to be quite steep. As we wound our way upward, the Flatirons came into view, those massive slabs of sandstone tilting sharply above the tree line. About halfway up, Danny noticed the Tahoe starting to run hot. At that slow climb, the fan was not kicking on the way it should have, and the temperature gauge kept creeping upward. We were not even towing, which made it a little more unsettling.
We made it to Panorama Point and immediately popped the hood. With the Tahoe cooling off behind us, we took a short path out to a rocky outcrop with sweeping panoramic views. Sitting there was a college student strumming his guitar and singing, his music setting the scene.
While we stood there, engagement photos turned into maternity photos, which turned into wedding portraits. It felt like we were watching a live montage of life’s biggest moments, all framed by the Flatirons and drifting acoustic music.
It was the first hint that the Tahoe was not entirely happy above 6,000 feet and on steep inclines. Danny had some troubleshooting to do. Nonetheless, still an amazing evening, even with the hood up.
Later that afternoon, as we exited the park for a trip to Boulder, we passed a busy prairie dog village along the roadside, heads popping up and down. We wandered through the Boulder Farmers Market, grabbed dinner from a food truck, and ate at one of the portable tables while live music played nearby. My overpriced $17 Cuban paella came in a surprisingly small portion and left me unimpressed, so we followed it up with a second round of tacos. Afterward, we headed over to Eben G. Fine Park. As we sat by the water, whitewater kayakers worked their way through the light rapids, rising and dipping with the current. College kids lounged along the riverbank, soaking up the afternoon.
Then we drove up Flagstaff Road, which turned out to be quite steep. As we wound our way upward, the Flatirons came into view, those massive slabs of sandstone tilting sharply above the tree line. About halfway up, Danny noticed the Tahoe starting to run hot. At that slow climb, the fan was not kicking on the way it should have, and the temperature gauge kept creeping upward. We were not even towing, which made it a little more unsettling.
We made it to Panorama Point and immediately popped the hood. With the Tahoe cooling off behind us, we took a short path out to a rocky outcrop with sweeping panoramic views. Sitting there was a college student strumming his guitar and singing, his music setting the scene.
While we stood there, engagement photos turned into maternity photos, which turned into wedding portraits. It felt like we were watching a live montage of life’s biggest moments, all framed by the Flatirons and drifting acoustic music.
It was the first hint that the Tahoe was not entirely happy above 6,000 feet and on steep inclines. Danny had some troubleshooting to do. Nonetheless, still an amazing evening, even with the hood up.