Lyons, CO

Almost immediately after passing the Colorado Wyoming border, large boulder formations speckled the landscape.  We tried turning off toward a Point-of-Interest sign, between the rolling horse ranches.  But when it was equally combatted with a No Trespassing sign, we quickly shied away.

Near Fort Collins, the road construction traffic intensified.  I was a bit confused of our path since we had not the faintest destination in mind.  I veered off onto a small dirt road when suddenly a giant semi-truck honked his way into our space.  The road was so narrow, enough for one way traffic, that I pulled into a small drive near the dead end gate.  Two more trucks impatiently honked as I waited for the first to pass, reversing, to release the flow of traffic.

Still unable to make a road map decision, I just drove, pulling into the next small parking lot, only to be honked at again!  A giant van, a lost mother, and a helpless youngster.  We parked and found directions to a less than satisfying meal, only to be shouted at again, along our path.  The harshness of the area had me craving a new town, and fast.

I called the Ranger’s office in Boulder inquiring about low level camping in the foothills of Estes Park.  With the majority at significant altitude levels, she gave me a few other numbers.  Long story short, after speaking with the Boulder Open Space and Recreation, I drove to a lovely, newly restored campground in Lyons, CO, about an hour south of Fort Collins.

The campground was heavenly for young and old.  Definitely manicured, the landscape was expertly planted, and the park layout was thoughtful with large playscapes for the kids, zip-lines, and showers.  It was set on a river, cold and refreshing to cool the persistent heat, with a kayak run and an opportunity to tube, if you were fortunate enough to have one.  Soccer fields, pavilions, and a nearby town, the locals shared this space, just as much as the tent and RV goers.

Henry made quick friends, and we decided to stay for two nights.