Before I go into the awesomeness of the day, I would like to share with you a picture that pretty much sums up how I feel about life right now.



I woke up early this morning and hopped online. With the spotty motel wireless, it took a bit of wrangling to get that last entry up, but I did it! For all of you! Well, and for me. But also for all of you!

*loves all of you*

Anyway, by the time we got all showered and wolfed down complimentary bagels and coffee, it was around nine. We hopped into Beatrice and made our way out onto the open Wyoming road.

The landscape was, by and large, the same landscape we saw yesterday. Gorgeous, huge skies, wide, open spaces. I, however, was not distracted by this natural beauty. My eyes? Were fixed on the horizon.

"I see the mountains! I see the mountains!" I shrieked, bouncing in my seat. Beatrice swerved slightly.

"I think that might be a hill," Errol said.

It did, indeed, prove to be a hill. A short time later:

"There they are! I can see the snow!"

"I think those are clouds."

They were. So we drove along, Joni Mitchell crooning at me as I frantically searched for the Rockies.

Around Cheyenne, not too far from the Colorado border, we drifted over the swell of a hill and... there they were. Snow capped and majestic and blue with distance.

"Oh. My god." I felt that pressure behind my nose like when I'm about to cry, and I had to take a deep breath to keep from doing so. "My god."

We went through Cheyenne and over the Colorado border.

"TOWANDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

We stopped for gas; I made my voice post, we checked the oil (good until Las Vegas, I'd say), and we got back on the road, silent, doing nothing but stare at the mountains.

We turned off the main road and headed toward Estes Park. We went through a town called Loveland where there was a lovely lake (looking at a map, I think it was Boyd Lake, but I'm not sure) with a little park and a great view of the mountains. We stopped to stretch our legs and absorb the majesty for a bit.







As we got ready to get back into Beatrice and continue on our way, Errol pointed out some statues to me. Read the last bit carefully.







It says: Invictus. I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul. William Ernest Henley

Errol smiled at me. "It seems appropriate," he said.

Hands shaking slightly, I got back into the car and we kept driving... into the mountains.



We drove slowly, soaking in the sights as we climbed higher and higher into the mountains, passing through small towns with cabins for tourists. After a while, we arrived in Estes Park.

It was gorgeous. The town was clean and bright and you could see the snow capped mountain peaks in the distance. We had a delicious and surprisingly inexpensive lunch at a pizza restaurant and then made our way to Rocky Mountain National Park.

Sadly, we're here about a month out of season, so certain passes were closed (I am, however, absolutely positively determined to come back here during the season at some point). We did, however, get some amazing pictures. It was breathtakingly lovely.





















Also, while I was hanging out taking photos on this rocky outcropping, I made friends with a very personable furry woodland creature who got very, very close before scampering away.



After we were all Rocky Mountain-ed out, we headed toward the hostel. By accident (though I'd been wanting to see it, we hadn't planned on it) we stopped at the Stanley Hotel, which probably has all kinds of rich historical things attached to it, but which I love because it's where Stephen King was inspired to write The Shining.



After we left the Stanley, we found the hostel. The manager and her son were busy setting up mattresses and things. The son, Joel, was a shy sixteen year old who helped me out getting internet up. Then he, Errol, and I helped drag some boxsprings and mattresses onto bedframes.

Later, Errol and I took a walk around Estes Park. I bought a big ol' cowboy hat at a leather shop. The owner nodded his head approvingly when I tried it on. I looked in the mirror. It looked pretty darn cool.

"Now, here's the question," he said. "Are you the type of lady who pushes her hat up off her face, or the kind who pulls it down low?"

I tugged the hat down low on my face.

"This way," I explained. "I can see them, but they can't see me."

We walked around. I bought a "Rocky Mountain National Park" bumper sticker for Beatrice, and a little Buddha for my dashboard in a Nepalese shop (interesting fact: there are something like 4,000 people from Nepal living in Estes Park during the normal season. Apparently it's a huge destination for the Nepalese). The girls at the shop told us that we'd apparently missed snow in Estes Park - get this - by a day. Whew. We're just going to have to be careful tomorrow - don't want to get trapped in any freak blizzards.

Anway, the hostel is lovely and nice, and I really want to come back here some time in the summer. They have a map on the wall of where people are from, and I stuck a pin in PA and DC.

So, in conclusion: Rocky Mountains = *indistinct gaping noises combined with a waving of hands*

Love you all! Tomorrow we travel to Durango.