Estes Valley Library, Estes Park, Colorado

After a completely unremarkable car sleep at a rest stop outside of Colby, Kansas, I made my way to the Estes Valley Library with dual motives: One, to see the library, two, to see the hotel that inspired the Overlook Hotel in Stephen King's The Shining.

The drive itself wasn't extraordinary, except in the way that it always is when you are heading west out of Kansas. Eventually you start to see the outlines of something potentially impressive until BAM, Rocky Mountains. It is breathtaking. As it turns out, in more ways than one.

Once you pass through Denver, the way to Estes Park is a winding road weaving up and down, swerve, curve, lurch, lunge. I am usually not susceptible to car sickness, especially when I'm driving, but I started to feel nauseated after a while.

The Parking Lot to the Estes Library

The main route is a two lane highway, so I considered myself lucky to get stuck behind someone even more nervous than I was. There are signs all over Colorado--specifically the mountainy parts--alerting drivers that they are in a safety zone and that all aggressive driving should be reported. I knew exactly what this meant since I've been there, done that, not just on my last leg, but on that memorable trip up the California 1 highway ten plus years ago. People can get very aggressive and assholish. They don't care that wind-y, hilly roads are new to some drivers. They aren't new to them, so get the fuck out of the way. I have experienced major road rage, so I get it. But being on the receiving end on Highway 1 was an eye opener and changed the way I approached the road in general. When people come up on you so fast and so close that you think they might be trying to drive you off the road, it's not okay. News Alert: It is NOT OKAY.

So I put a good buffer between me and Nervous Norman and made the decision to ignore the traffic behind us. Although he didn't know it, I decided we were in this thing together. I would buffer him so he wouldn't get crowded, freak, and zing off the side of the mountain; he would lead the way so I wouldn't have to sweat it out all alone. We made our way at a good enough clip--only about 5-10 mph under the speed limit, sometimes right at the speed limit--so it wasn't too bad overall. We managed to get to Estes Park and no one died...of a car crash or frustration.

(How do I ignore cars on my ass going up a winding mountain road? Remember the Amazing Expanding Airbed? It happened again--squeak, squeak, squeak--so it pretty much obstructed the view behind me. I could see cars in my side mirrors, but only in bits and pieces. I just decided not to obsess about it.)

Estes Park is a very beautiful mountain town, embracing that log cabin aesthetic so many Colorado towns revel in. I easily parked in the lot in front of the library even though the place was hopping with tourists and townfolk alike. There were cute little shops across the road and the hustle and bustle of Twee Town Tourism was in full effect. Everyone was in puffer vests or parkas even though it was in the high sixties and sunny. In my frumpy t-shirt and fried hair sticking out, I felt like an alien hatched out of a plaid egg, all of my tentacles and eye stalks on full display. I swiftly scurried toward the library.

I had to stop to take photos of the exterior, though, because WOW. Right? Look at it. I wish the inside matched the outside, but no dice. It was a very nice library--nice nice nice--but the interior was not the same as the exterior. I was feeling a bit off, so only spent long enough time there to figure out which library to go to next. I'd scoped out a couple of places near the AirBNB I was staying at that night, so I picked one, packed up my stuff, and headed out.

The view from my work station

I made a very brief drive-by of the Stanley, since at that point I wanted to de-elevate, thinking maybe part of what was making my gills go green was the altitude (Estes Park is 7,500 feet). It was an absolute madhouse of people coming and going, which popped the bubble of intrigue surrounding the place in my imagination. If you've never read The Shining, even at the height of its occupancy, the hotel itself is truly isolated. I would imagine winter transforms Estes Park significantly, but the hotel is in the town, not apart from it, and it is open year round, at that. It's a pretty place, though. Just a bit...trampled.

The Stanley

The way back down was much more peaceful and I had the opportunity to get one good photo of the scenery. The Big Thompson River follows you almost all the way down to Loveland, and people have made homes balanced on precipices to partake of the grandeur of the area and easy access of the road. But as stunning as the mountains are, I was relieved to get back to (relatively) flat land. Oh, Kansas Girl!

The Big Thompson