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Julie and I thought we’d try and get some camping and hot sprining in this weekend. So, Saturday morning, she and I packed up just about everything but the kitchen sink (we were fortunate in that regard, as I shall explain in a bit) and headed west. The MINI wouldn’t have come even close to hauling all we wanted to bring + the dog. It could have done one or the other, but not both. Fortunately, her Mazda 3 is a bit more generous on space. The bench seat, folded away, made a perfect platform for Murph and the trunk was just big enough to hold our packs, gigunda tent, cooler, doggie goods and we managed to get the firewood in there somewhere too.

I had found a few potential campgrounds online on Saturday morning in the Steamboat Springs vicinity. What with the mountains being where they are an all, we had to head south to I-70, through the Eisenhower tunnel, and then back north again when we reached Silverthorne. It was a stunning drive, if perhaps a bit lengthier than we had bargained for. When we reached Steamboat, we found that the Forest Service Information Center was closed on weekends, so Blackberries in hand, we tried to figure out where best to camp (and how to get there) by ourselves.

After a few wrong turns (my fault), we finally found our road. Our target was Dry Lake, a small campground I had learned about online. I should have known that finding a vacant slip at a campground on a Saturday evening would be a fool’s errand, but we had a few backup campgrounds on our list. Unfortunately, no campground is ever anywhere near another, so going from one to the next would be time consuming at best, and suicidal at worst with dusk creeping up. The backups I had on my list, which I had researched, would have meant going back into town and then up to the north. So, when we discovered, not too surprisingly, that Dry Lake was full, we pressed on along our little dirt road to the un-researched campsite icons further to the east. The map had a few around Buffalo Pass. That was all the info I had about them, and the name sounded pleasant enough.

We continued up the road and the conditions quickly went from 4-door sedan, to high-clearance 4×4. It was a bit much for the Mazda, but it was a bit late to turn around and we were hoping things would improve. We finally managed to flag a passing car down and ask about the route up ahead. They told us that things got better and that there was a campground just up the road a bit. They also told us that all of the people we’d seen off the side of the road occupying impromptu camping spots were totally legit. You’d know you were in a good place if you found a fire ring pre-built.

Well, no surprise here, but the campground at Buffalo Pass was completely full. So, somewhat defeated, we kept going hoping to find an unofficial, off-the-road spot that wasn’t taken. And only a few moments later, we succeeded! We found an absolutely beautiful little secluded place to camp, complete with a car pull off and fire ring. It was at this point that we found ourselves ecstatic to have brought such “extras” as camp chairs, 2 gallons of water, and toilet paper.

By the time we put up the tent and got the fire started (thanks to a greasy Whopper wrapper), the sun dipped below the trees and darkness set in. Murphy took it upon himself to run around every inch of ground within a 100yd radius of the site and so we eventually just tied the poor guy up. The last thing we needed was bear/sasquatch bait. We cooked a couple Heeb Nat hotdogs over the fire and a couple cobs of corn. To top it off, we made a bit of Hot Cocoa with Vodka. We only have 1 sleeping bag, so I brought my bedding from home and we tried to make do with that. It was a bit nipply, but we made it through alright.

In the morning, we made up a new fire (with the second greasy Whopper wrapper), and got some breakfast under our belts. After we struck the site, we got back in the Mazda and headed back in on the treacherous glorified foot-path towards Steamboat. We went up to Strawberry Hot Springs and took a quick soak (partly for relaxation, but mostly just to get the grime off). With Murph in the car, we didn’t want to be gone too long, so we wrapped it up and went back into town.

Before we left, though, we just had to take a ride down the alpine slide they had in town. I had been on one of these many years ago on a family vacation in the French Jura Mountains. Essentially, it’s a twisty and narrow half-pipe track down a ski slope. You get in a small plastic sled with a lever that, when pushed forwards, extends a pair of wheels under you causing you to roll quickly downhill. When you pull the lever back, it retracts the wheels and extends braking skids below the sled to slow you down. It’s was every bit as much fun as I had remembered it being.

Grins on faces, we got in the car and headed home. We had a quick stop at the outlet mall to partially reintroduce us to civilization, and a couple hours in the brutal I-70 mountain traffic to fully seal the deal.

By 9-ish, or so, we were home and unpacked. That was what I call a fantastic weekend. Not exactly relaxing, but that’s what work is for, is it not?