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Birthday at 14,000 Feet (Yes, Oxygen Is Optional)
Birthday at 14,000 Feet (Yes, Oxygen Is Optional)
Climbing toward the summit, ears pop, heart races, and every breath feels thinner. But then — 14,000 feet. The view? Straight out of a dream. Clouds below. Mountains stretched out like a rumpled blanket. And a deep sense of awe that settles in the chest (alongside some mild gasping for air).
Even with fog rolling in near the top, the drive up is breathtaking — both literally and figuratively. And let’s just say, driving a van down in first and second gear suddenly makes a lot of sense. Not just for safety — but for soaking in every second.
Just outside of Pikes Peak, tucked into the trees like a holiday secret, there’s a place called The North Pole — and yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like. A full-blown Christmas-themed amusement park with candy-colored rides, twinkling decorations, and enough jingle bells to make even the grumpiest Scrooge crack a smile.
While the amusement park isn’t open year-round (Santa needs some off-season rest too), the gift shop stays open all year. Walk inside and it’s instant holiday cheer — ornaments, snow globes, and festive treasures galore. Even when the rides are silent and the elves are on break, the area still feels magical — like the North Pole took a vacation to Colorado and never left. A quirky, cheerful detour worth every minute.
The sign said, “You might get wet.” Reality? Soaked socks and a chilled sense of adventure. Getting to Zapata Falls means slippery rocks, icy crevices, and following the sound of rushing water. The falls, half-frozen and hidden behind a gap, looked like something out of a fantasy — jagged ice and roaring water behind a frozen curtain.
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Grateful for the couple who showed the way — without them, the view might’ve been missed. Shoes drenched, socks took two days to dry. Worth it? Every frozen, breathtaking step. Some beauty just has to be felt.
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Caves are cool — literally. The kind of cool that bites at fingers and noses the moment lantern light fades. A woman’s voice echoes through the stone corridors, telling stories of George and shadowy mysteries that still seem to linger in the damp air. Legends of falling off cliffs, betrayal, maybe even a push — they hang in the silence like fog.
Smells of earth and stone fill the air, heavy but somehow comforting. Deeper into the cave, the lanterns are doused. Suddenly, it’s so dark that blinking doesn’t matter — eyes, useless. The silence? Louder than any city street. It's humbling. It's eerie. It's weirdly peaceful.
Road Cycling: Hilly and windy
Who builds 224 steps straight up a mountain? Masochists, maybe. But reaching the top? Worth every burning calf muscle. Water crashes down with a roar that drowns out every single worry. Mist kisses the skin, cool and wild. Lips taste the minerals on the wind, like nature’s Gatorade.
There’s a halfway bench, conveniently placed for dramatic flops and existential awe. The fall, the forest, the air so crisp it practically crackles in the lungs — it's better than any postcard could ever pretend to be.
Somewhere between sanity and adventure lives a 224-step climb to a waterfall that doesn’t care how tired your legs are. Mist sprays the face like nature’s own facial. Soundtrack? Thunderous crashing water, echoing through the forest like applause.
At the top, it’s impossible not to smile. Beauty this big demands it. The view? Worth every huff, puff, and unflattering selfie. Bonus: the halfway bench, made for reflection... and recovering quads.
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