I left Des Moines for Aspen, Colorado just over a week ago. That feels weird to say because, in a lot of ways, it feels like I’ve been here for months.
My time in Iowa was quiet and relaxing. Days blended together easily, and that’s good because I needed it. Aspen, however, has been a different story. There are pictures to take, paths to walk, gear to buy, people to meet, and a new job to learn. That constant racing between my interests made my days feel fuller, longer. This place grabs my attention, and it forces me to live fully.
Still, though, the fact that I’m even here mystifies me. Living in a ski resort went from a far-away dream to a stunning reality in one weekend. Throughout one long drive, I teleported directly into a literal winter wonderland.
And I don’t even mean that figuratively. The morning I left from Iowa, the high was 75. All I wore on the drive up were shorts and a T-shirt. However, I watched the temperature dip over the hours – slowly at first, and then a harsh drop. I saw my first snow flurries as I approached Denver.
The storm began as small flakes that instantly washed away on the roads and fields. It blurred the silhouettes of mountains in the distance, but soon washed them away completely in a sea of white.
Soon I regretted packing nothing more in my overnight bag than foam Birkenstocks with a hole in the bottom and a pair of Smartwool joggers. The snow continued harder overnight and into the morning. I woke up and slipped into my pants and short sleeve shirt, not looking forward to the desperate trudge to my car through 4 inches of snow. I made it, though, and instantly shed my now sopping wet socks, traded my birks for boots, and my bare arms for a parka.
Welcome to the mountains, I guess.
Arriving in Aspen
The way to Aspen was about as pleasant as one could guess from the storm. Cars littered the interstate going up the mountain – I’m sure whoever owned a towing company had their best day ever. LED signs relayed the message: All commercial vehicles need chains to drive on the interstate. I thanked God that I had all-wheel-drive and spent the first two hours going 20 under the speed limit, crouching over my steering wheel to see through the snow.
The weather ebbed and flowed, but eventually, a team of plows lined up in front of me, formed one big line across the interstate, and cleared a path. That’s how I got most of the way to Aspen – by following a team of plows down I-70.
And now I’m here, and my entire world feels changed.
The air is thinner here, as was painfully obvious when I moved a dozen loads from my car up the stairs to my apartment. I put several boxes in my room and unloaded others throughout the apartment wherever they fit in. I tried to be diligent in my unpacking and get it right the first time, but it was hard. How could I focus on packing when the world is screaming at me to explore?
... I Didn't Come Here to Organize an Apartment
Once I didn’t feel outright embarrassed about the state of my room, I ran to my car and whipped out of my parking spot.
The sun neared the horizon and the sky turned from bright blue to a mellow cotton candy color. Clouds turned from stark white to yellow. I knew just where to go – on my way into Aspen, I drove through the roaring fork valley and passed by a mammoth of a peak. It sat alone, not competing with other peaks or hillsides that threatened its view, high enough that its entire peak was stark white. A mountain I know now as Mt. Sopris.
I grabbed the camera my mom so lovingly let me take to Aspen and booked it down the interstate to ensure I didn’t miss the color change. I didn’t, so now you can look at it, too.
Coming back from Sopris, I was only encouraged to do more. I had four more days until I actually started work, and I was determined to make the most of it. I made a rule: if clouds and snow blocked my views, then I could sit at a computer and write, work, or research ski gear (apparently there’s a lot to buy). If the sun shined or, even more importantly, if it was sunrise or sunset, I was outside.
Early, Cold Mornings and Late, Cold Evenings.
The second place I photographed was at the top of one of the four Aspen Snowmass mountains – Snowmass itself. Behind the ski-able area and a short walk through a pine forest, there sat a clearing that exposed two of Colorado’s infamous 14-ers (mountains that peak above 14,000 ft of elevation): Capitol Peak and Mt. Daly.
Snow-covered and glorious, I watched the sun set behind them as two other Aspen locals flew a drone around the valley. I’ll always love hiking in the summer and fall, and it will likely stay that way… but I must say that winter hikes are becoming a love of their own.
The hike wasn’t easy, and the cold air bit at my lungs. Snow and elevation made what should have been an easy walk into a truly sweaty endeavor, but I loved it. I just zipped my jacket down a few notches, pulled out my camera, and caught my breath while snapping some amazing pictures. Sun fell and the clouds turned pink again – it was time to go home.
It’s hard, however, to feel ready to sit down when even just the drive back home is littered with jagged white peaks and rolling hills. It’s like God wanted me to feel like every second I spent inside was a sin. So, I made a mental note of each road that looked pretty, each peak I wanted a better look at, and asked locals for any hikes they thought I could do without snowshoes.
I explored more peaks, more trails, and more sunsets and sunrises over the next few days. On day two I visited the insane Pyramid Peak just north of Aspen, and then Maroon Peak.
Aspen is blessed to be home to eight fourteeners, as well as several more within a short drive. All these mountains are on full display throughout the Roaring Fork Valley, and I firmly intend to see each of them in all their glory. My first week was packed, but I also don’t have any plans to take it easy anytime soon.
Sadly, Though, I also have to work here
Sprinkled in between my vagabond excursions was decorating, organizing, shopping, and figuring out how the hell I was supposed to feel normal about living in the most expensive ski town in the world.
Of course, there is one way to feel better about it, and it sadly doesn’t include secluded morning runs to the mountains with my camera. At some point, I had to actually meet new people and my new boss scheduled a full week of training for me to do just that.
My orientation group bonded over one main thing – everyone just moved here. I met people from Washington, Illinois, the Carolinas, the Northeast, and even the Caribbean. We learned the painfully unintuitive Point of Sale software I’ll be angry at for the next five months, and then had a community dinner… which I thought meant they would take us out to a restaurant, but no.
Our HR reps had a bright idea: we were to work as a team to make our own four-course meal in the ski school cafeteria which, I’ll begrudgingly admit, was a ton of fun. I was on charcuterie squad, so I spent a lot of my time walking around with a metal sheet in hand, giving out apple slices and cheese to everyone there.
New Friends and Bad Influences (Me, I'm the Bad Influence)
It wasn’t long before I found my own little squad, and not long after that I somehow convinced them to wake up before sunrise with me to take pics of yet another mountain range near Aspen. Props to them, though, because I wouldn’t be nearly as excited to wake up at 5:00 to go trespass on private property with someone I just met (but before you judge me for breaking the law, judge Colorado for selling off all the best views to the highest bidder).
We drove down the same road my friend Hallie and I did on our road trip back from Montana. Once we drove a few miles on a side road, however, a gate stopped the Crosstrek from making any more ground – it was time to take it on foot.
We walked for another half-mile or so until we got to a wide-open field with spectacular views of the ranges around us. A few taller mountains peaked above the ones in my immediate vicinity, bathed in a golden sunrise glow. But, immediately ahead of us was a bowl of white rock that dominated our valley. We walked into the middle of the field, covered in snow, and watched the sky and rock change color.
Once all the snow melted inside my boots and more than enough powder went down my pants, we hiked back to the car. It hit me how much adventure I had in a few short hours before my work day even started – more than I’d have in weeks anywhere else.
My entire week went like that – I’d either wake up to catch the sunrise, or I’d find a cool outlook for sunset. Sometimes I’d get people to join me on my adventures, sometimes it’d just be me and my camera.
In between all of that was more learning, more training, and above all, more people.
Rationalizing it All
It’s still slightly surreal that I’m even here, let alone that this is now my home. It feels more permanent than Bozeman, and so far that’s a good thing. I’m no longer in a basement with three other roommates, crammed into a bunk room with only space for the bare essentials. I’m no longer working 20 hours per week just so I can live for free. I now have a job, benefits, and a commute. I have a new company email and an HR rep, and I have all of that in Aspen, Colorado – a fact that still baffles me.
I guess that’s a long way to say that I’m still not used to living here. It feels so foreign that barely over four months ago I worked in a secluded cubicle at Wells Fargo, wishing for some lucky break so I could live the way I wanted to. I barely had a plan then, but I trusted myself to do something simple: find what makes me happy, and make it work for me.
If I didn’t start down this path, I wouldn’t even know that I could be truly happy with my career path. I thought the only way to get out of my work life was for me to win the lottery or retire early. I knew of hopes and dreams only as far-off places I could never actually reach. Turns out they were always in my grasp, I just had no idea how to get there.
It’s insane to me how much growth I’ve experienced in just a few short months. It’s even more insane to know I’m just getting started.