Park Number: 5/61
First Visited: August 25, 2010
Rocky Mountain National Park, like a womb to the wilderness, generates primordial splendor that is instantly recognizable upon visiting. Animals abound, trees skyward—the land is a spiritual allowance gifted by paternal deities. Any trail is proof of such—whether road, hiking path, or waterway—as all lead through terrain sculpted by the divine grace of time and tectonic tinkering. Every season, each year, holds its own romance: winter unblemished, spring resurrected, summer explored, and fall…my favorite.
It’s in the fall that the leaves turn every gilded hue discernable in a fire and, like a burning, the mountainside flares up in the agony of a dying season. But don’t be fooled; life is abundant in this abated era. Black bears gorge in hyperphagia to prepare the babies brewing in their bellies. Massive bull elk clash heads and horns, violent and raw, as they bugle for reproductive rights—the rut, as it is called, always impending.