Trail Ridge Road CAN Close Anytime
At the 12,183 ft. Rain Can Be Treacherous Snow
It was a cloudy morning, rain falling as we drove over Trail Ridge Road. The conversation with my friend Marcos Quintana went from family and friends to the weather. At the 8,949 ft, Kawuneeche Valley may have rain, but at the 12,183 ft. peak of Trail Ridge Road, that rain can be treacherous, icy, blowing snow.
Three times in my life, I’ve been to Kawuneeche Valley when such rain was falling, and in those three times, I’ve tried to return to Estes Park only to find a ranger manning the gate at the Colorado River Trailhead, politely shaking his finger, “No, no, no. Too dangerous. Trail Ridge Road is closed.”
The first time it happened, I was naive. Probably around 1980, I had driven from Lincoln, NE across the flat, uninspiring prairie to the Nebraska Sandhills and into a less inspiring eastern Colorado. Engaging in their own right, they are not the Rocky Mountains of Estes Park.
Arriving mid-afternoon, I was excited to be back in Estes Park. With enthusiasm, my younger self kept going. I drove up Trail Ridge Road and over to Kawuneeche Valley. While the skies had darkened, the rain was slight as I headed back.
That’s when I saw him. His official RMNP patrol vehicle blocked my path at the north end of the valley. In his positive, public relations voice, the ranger explained Trail Ridge Road was closed. Exasperated, non-verbals expressed the not so positive words bouncing about my brain as he explained the 4-hour drive back to Estes.
The drive was picturesque from Granby along Highway 125 to Rand and the dirt road to Gould. Then it was over Cameron Peak Pass to the roller coast of CR 27 through Masonville and Big Thompson Canyon. Thirteen hours after I left Lincoln, I arrived at Lonigan’s. Dick Orleans was tuning his magnificent acoustic guitar. That’s when my twenty-six year old brain said, “Party on.”
The second time it happened, years later, I reminded myself, “You should know better.” But the third time…
It was Trail Ridge Road’s opening day of the season, and I had a friend and her sixteen year old daughter visiting from Chicago. I enthusiastically offered to take them on a drive through RMNP to Grand Lake and back.
Early in the drive, I knew where a nice sized bull moose had bedded down. My friend was excited while her daughter’s greatest concern was that she’d lost her cell signal. Guiding them to an open space, we could view the beautiful creature. As I stood in awe, she said “This is so amazing, Brad. Thanks so much.” Her daughter was intense, capturing cell phone pictures of her first moose.
While having lunch at Grand Lake, the clouds blew in and the skies turned ominous. Concerned, I explained the situation and the four hour drive if Trail Ridge Road closed. We did a quick loop in Grand Lake, each of them buying a t-shirt. As the clouds became more concerning, we grabbed scoops of mint chip ice cream to go.
We pushed through Kawuneeche Valley, but to my horror at the Colorado Trailhead pullout, there stood the ranger welcoming us to a closed gate. In his pleasant voice, he explained, “Sorry, it’s too icy up there.” Thanking him, I reassured her, “I’ll get us home, but it will take some time.”
Passing beautiful, even magnificent) mountain homes on the isolated Highway 125, her Chicago voice laughed at the contrast, “It’s miles to town from here. Where are the schools? There aren’t any neighbors. How do these people get groceries?” Then her daughter added, “And there’s no cell signal. How does anyone live here?”
When we reached Rand, I turned on the cut-off dirt road to Gould, and my friend's eyes grew big. “Is this safe? Do you have 4-wheel drive?” She looked at me like - well - a city girl lost in the mountains. From the back seat, her daughter moaned, “I still can’t get a cell signal.” I smiled back, “But it is beautiful.”
Going east from Gould through State Forest State Park, I pulled to the side of the road, pointing. Moving among the willows was a cow moose with twin calves several days old. The daughter squealed, my friend gasped, and we pulled over watching them move just off the highway.
“They’re so cute,” they said in unison.
Before we reached Ft. Collins, I turned onto CR 27, the roller coaster road to Masonville. On the weaving, rolling, hilly curves of the roller coaster drive, I could see my friend’s hand gripping the arm rest while her daughter yelled, “Wee, go faster.”
By the time we reached Big Thompson Canyon, my friend was laughing at the experience. Magnificent, isolated mountain homes, newly born moose, the beauty of Cameron Peak Pass, and the drive lined with the lime green leaves of the spring’s new Aspen growth. Then in Big Thompson Canyon there were bighorn rams feeding along the road. I pulled into a turnout where we watched the animals. My friend turned to me smiling, “Thank you for this.”
When we reached Estes Park, her daughter exclaimed with delight, “I got a cell signal!.” Their mountain adventure, longer than anticipated, had brought them back to civilization.
Photos by Brad Manard and Courtesy of RMNP/NPS.
