Estes Park

Last weekend I found myself in Estes (rhymes with testes, giggity) Park, Colorado, for a mini vacation in the mountains. A trip to cool, Rocky Mountainy Colorado was quite the welcome respite after being in scorching, fiery-depths-of-hell Plano (which translates to flat in Spanish).

The first and most noticeable change for me was the altitude difference. The air was dry, each breath brought a smaller oxygen intake, and I became out of breath more quickly than usual (which is pretty quick to being with). But the views were amazing. I'd never seen the Rockies in the summertime, and it was a world's difference from the snowy, grey peaks of Banff and Jasper.

While hiking we spotted a lot of wildlife, including a couple of elk grazing just a few feet away. The animals paid us no mind as we gawked and pointed. I even got video footage of an elk peeing and it was way rad.

Fatty mcfat fat

Tubby mctubster

Wile E. Coyote

I've decided I love mountains more so than any other natural uh, thing (entity? establishment? wonder? distortion of land?). Seeing them, especially those preserved as well as the ones in Estes Park, makes me feel happy and inspired and lightheaded (although maybe the lightheadedness comes from the lack of O2). When I am older and decide to be sick of Chicago, I would definitely love to live somewhere close to a mountain range. Also I am pretty sure that like Snow White, I can domesticate woodland creatures if I just hang out in them mountains long enough and sing the song that Fiona does in Shrek. That way they could do my cooking and laundry while I happily tumble through the mountains and over the hills.