San Juan Mountains in Southern Colorado: The Swiss Alps of America
It’s hard to believe that it’s been four years since my last road trip with Greer. Time has flown by so quickly, it feels like a blur. Life has a funny way of doing that—drifting us apart, wrapping us up in our own worlds. Greer’s been deeply involved in her work at the Texas Capital during the week, and I was always booked with massage clients over the weekends. Our schedules never seemed to align, and before we knew it, our epic road trips became a thing of the past.
But I haven’t given up hope. I still dream of the day when we’ll embark on another adventure together. It’s long overdue, and honestly, I think we both need it. There’s something special about the open road, where time slows down, and the miles stretch out into endless possibilities.
What made this trip stand out was how unplanned it was—a stark contrast to my usual meticulous approach. Maybe that spontaneity was suppose to be lesson. Looking back, I’m not quite sure why I decided to wing it. Perhaps I was seeking a different kind of experience, or maybe I was just craving a break from the usual structure.
Admittedly, the trip is a bit of a haze in my memory, almost like something from a decade ago rather than just four. And I can’t ignore the reason why—Colorado being a legal weed state and me being a former pot smoker, I was definitely high for a significant part of the journey. While I do remember the highlights, many details are blurred, like pieces of a distant dream.
To be clear, I’m not opposed to weed. Like alcohol, I believe there’s a time and place for it, and it can be enjoyed responsibly. But for me personally, I’ve found it difficult to balance weed in my life. It had a way of creeping in and taking up more space than I intended, which is why I ultimately decided to quit. I feel fortunate now that I’ve left that chapter behind. And maybe in the future I’ll enjoy a small joint. It’s been almost ten months since I quit, and as my one-year mark approaches, I find myself reflecting on the clarity that has come with it. I plan to write more about this journey, as it’s given me a lot of insight and a fresh perspective on my current life.
Day 1: Getting out of Texas
We met up around midday in Austin, ready to hit the road, just like old times. There was an undeniable excitement in the air, but something felt different. Our energy wasn’t the same as it had been on past trips. Maybe it was the weight of the years that had passed, or perhaps the pandemic had changed the beat of things, shifting the rhythm of our lives in ways we hadn’t fully acknowledged. At this point, being a couple of years older, we found ourselves needing to be a bit more cautious about rest and pacing ourselves—something we didn’t have to think as much in the past.
Still, we were determined to make the most of it. We set off, driving as far as we could, the miles stretching out before us like a road we had traveled before, yet somehow unfamiliar this time. The long drive felt almost meditative, a mix of silence and occasional conversation, both of us lost in our own thoughts. We let the road guide us, our destination undefined, just the two of us and the open highway.
After 10 hours, exhaustion finally caught up with us. We ended up in Santa Rosa, NM, a small town that seemed to appear out of nowhere, like a mirage in the desert. We didn’t need much—a place to rest our heads was all we were after. We spent $50 on a motel room, its worn-out walls and faint smell of time passing fitting the mood of the day.
As we settled in for the night, I couldn’t help but reflect on how things had changed. It wasn’t just the years; it was the way life seemed to pull us in different directions, slowly but surely. But there we were, still making the effort, still on the road together. And for that, I was grateful.
Day 2: Pagosa Springs
The next day, we woke up refreshed and ready to explore the world. With a much shorter drive ahead—just five hours compared to the marathon the day before—we set out with renewed energy. The road beckoned us towards Taos, and the landscape began to shift into something extraordinary.
As we neared the Rio Grande Gorge, the views were breathtaking. The deep chasm cutting through the high desert was a stark contrast to the vast open skies above, and we couldn’t resist stopping to take it all in. The sense of wonder that comes from standing on the edge of such natural beauty is hard to describe—it’s humbling, grounding, and exhilarating all at once.
But what really ignited our spirits was stumbling upon the Earthship community just outside of Taos. These off-grid, self-sustaining homes, built from natural and recycled materials, captivated me in a way I hadn’t expected. Earthships, pioneered by Michael Reynolds, are a revolutionary way of living, designed to minimize environmental impact while providing all the comforts of a modern home. They harness solar and wind energy, collect rainwater, and even grow food inside their walls. The concept is not just about sustainability; it’s about creating a lifestyle that harmonizes with the earth, rather than exploiting it.
We took a tour of the community, and I was absolutely inspired. The ingenuity and creativity behind these homes were mind-blowing. I found myself daydreaming about taking a class to learn how to build one myself someday. It reminded me of our visit to Arcosanti in Arizona, another innovative community we had explored on a previous road trip, but there was something about the Earthships that really spoke to me on a deeper level. I could feel the pull of this lifestyle, a longing to be part of something so connected to nature.
After our Earthship adventure, we hit the road again for the final stretch to Pagosa Springs. The drive was nothing short of incredible. As we crossed the Colorado state line, the landscape transformed into something truly magical. The rolling hills of northern New Mexico gave way to towering mountains, lush forests, and winding rivers. The colors seemed to intensify, the air felt crisper, and every turn revealed a new postcard-worthy view. It was one of those drives that makes you fall in love with the road all over again—every moment felt like a gift.
Once we arrived in Pagosa Springs, we grabbed a bite at a local spot. The food wasn’t particularly memorable, or maybe because I was high, but the atmosphere was perfect—a quaint patio with the kind of small-town charm that makes you feel at home. We booked our motel, the Alpine Inn, for $90 using Booking.com, and it felt like a solid choice for the night.
Pagosa Springs is known for its hot springs, and since our Utah trip, Greer and I have become huge fans of soaking in them. We were excited to visit the Springs Resort, but when we saw the massive line and the hefty price tag (which, if memory serves, was about $30-45 back in 2020), we hesitated. The day pass price now is $67, which feels steep, but for an amazing resort, it could be worth it. After all, one of my favorite hot springs experiences cost $90 in Quebec, Canada, and it was worth every penny. You see the blog post here:
- My Favorite Hot Springs
But on that day, Greer and I weren’t keen on spending a lot of money for just a couple of hours of soaking. As we wandered around town, a serendipitous moment changed everything. We stumbled upon some natural rock pools by the river, and to our delight, they were steaming—natural hot springs! The excitement was palpable. We quickly changed into our bathing suits and slid into the warm, soothing water. It was a perfect, spontaneous find—free, natural, and nestled right under a bridge. We couldn’t stop laughing and marveling at our luck. It felt like one of those moments where the universe conspires to give you exactly what you need.
After our delightful soak, we capped off the evening with cocktails at the Nightingale Motel Bar. By far, the best espresso martini I’ve ever had. It was the perfect end to a day full of unexpected adventures and the kind of memories that stay with you long after the trip is over.
Day 3: Mesa Verde National Park & San Juan Mountains
We woke up early that morning, ready to dive into the day’s adventures, but I couldn’t shake an underlying unease that seemed to follow me. It was still the same year as the pandemic, and the lingering sense of uncertainty had seeped into my bones. Looking back, I realize that my anxiety was exacerbated by the weed I was using. I thought it would help calm my nerves, but instead, it led me into a spiral of overthinking. I found myself caught in a cycle—smoking more to try and relieve the anxiety, only to feel it intensify. It was a strange feeling, being in such a state around Greer, especially since I usually keep these types of moments when I’m alone. I could sense Greer’s concern for me, and I felt a pang of guilt for bringing such a mood into what should have been a day of excitement and exploration.
Despite my internal struggle, we managed to make the most of it. We kicked off the day with a hot air balloon adventure, something that always felt like a bucket-list experience. If you’ve never been on a hot air balloon ride, it’s like floating on air, drifting slowly above the world as the landscape unfolds beneath you. The serenity of it all contrasts with the fiery roar of the burner, which lifts the balloon higher. You feel weightless, almost like you’re detached from everything below, and it gives you a whole new perspective on the world—literally and figuratively.
After our balloon ride, we drove a couple of hours west to explore Mesa Verde National Park. This place is a marvel of history and nature combined. It’s known for its well-preserved Ancestral Puebloan cliff dwellings, some dating back over 700 years. As we wandered through the park, seeing these ancient homes nestled into the cliffs, I couldn’t help but be awed by the ingenuity of the people who once lived there. Mesa Verde isn’t just a national park; it’s a window into a different time, a place where you can almost feel the presence of the past. The landscapes were beautiful, but there was also a haunting quality to them, as if the land itself remembered the stories of those who came before.
We had originally planned to stay the night in Mancos, a small town near the park, but something inside both of us craved more adventure. So, we made a joint decision to push on and spend the night in the San Juan Mountains instead. That led us to the Historic Western Hotel in Ouray, Colorado—a charming old building with a sense of history in every creak of the floorboards.
Once we were settled in Ouray, we asked some locals if they knew of any natural hot springs in the area. One guy mentioned a spot but insisted it was a local secret. He drew us a rough map, more of a scribble, really, but it was enough to guide us. After some trial and error, we found the spot—a hidden hot spring perched on the edge of a cliff by the highway.
The water was warm, not quite hot, but soothing nonetheless. As the sun began to set and the cold mountain air hit my skin, I found myself caught in a moment of indecision—stay and soak a bit longer or give in to the chill and get dressed? The contrast between the warmth of the spring and the cold of the evening made it hard to know what to do. But despite the lukewarm water and the uncertainty, there was something magical about being there, in that secret place, as the day faded into night.
Eventually, we made our way back into the small town of Ouray, feeling a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. It had been a day full of highs and lows—physically and emotionally—but in the end, it was another unforgettable chapter in our journey.
Day 4: Backpacking in Ice Lake
Waking up in the San Juan Mountains, I felt a powerful sense of awe. The landscape was so breathtaking that it almost felt like stepping into a Swiss postcard—though, truth be told, I’ve never been to Switzerland. The grandeur of these mountains was simply unreal. Greer and I set our sights on the Ice Lake Basin Trailhead for the day’s adventure, eager to explore the wonders that awaited us.
We were excited to embark on a backpacking journey, carrying all our gear as we hiked. The anticipation of discovering what breathtaking landscape we’d be sleeping in was palpable. The hike to Ice Lake was both exhilarating and grueling. We underestimated the challenge of the altitude and pushed ourselves a bit too hard without proper acclimatization. Altitude sickness set in with headaches and dizziness, but even through the discomfort, the landscape was awe-inspiring. Sometimes, the beauty around me was so overwhelming that I felt incapable of capturing it in a photo; the scenery seemed almost too magical to be real.
inally, after a strenuous climb with our backpacks weighing us down, we reached Ice Lake, perched at an elevation of 13,767 feet. It was the second highest elevation I’ve ever hiked, the highest being 15,190 feet at Salkantay Pass in Peru. Ice Lake itself was like something from a fairy tale. The water was a striking, crystalline blue, surrounded by jagged peaks that seemed to touch the sky. The lake glistened under the sun, reflecting the rugged mountain walls and the sky above in a dazzling array of colors. It was as if we had stumbled into a hidden realm, where every element was perfectly in harmony, creating an otherworldly beauty that felt both serene and surreal.
Greer, grappling with a severe headache, decided to take a plunge into the icy water. In a moment of spontaneous fun, she joined a fellow adventurer—who had bravely gone in naked—on a large rock in the middle of the lake. The sight of them both perched on the rock, surrounded by the stunning backdrop of Ice Lake, was both amusing and iconic. It was one of those moments that perfectly encapsulates the spirit of adventure.
We struck up a conversation with the adventurer across the lake. He introduced himself as Joe, and though his name is saved as Joe Ice on my phone, he never shared that nickname. He wore sunglasses throughout, and his Instagram was curiously devoid of any photos of his face, adding an air of mystery to the encounter. Greer and I found it all quite amusing and ended up chatting with Joe for a while. A year later, Greer ran into him again on a solo road trip in Flagstaff—a small world, indeed!
That night, we hoped to catch a meteor shower, but my habitual smoking as darkness fell didn’t help. Instead of enjoying the celestial show, the weed intensified my altitude sickness, which I thought I had managed to overcome. Still, amidst the discomfort, I slowly drifted off to sleep, reflecting on the magical day we had just experienced.
The San Juan Mountains had given us a day of adventure and enchantment, a day where reality seemed to blur with fantasy. And despite the challenges, the beauty and the memories made it all worthwhile.
Day 5: Natural Hot Springs in Northern New Mexico
Waking up at Ice Lake was nothing short of enchanting. The early morning light filtered through the mountains, casting a golden glow over the lake’s pristine waters. As I slowly emerged from my tent, the world seemed to be wrapped in a serene silence, broken only by the gentle rustling of the wind and the distant call of birds. The landscape, still shimmering with the vestiges of dawn, felt like a dream—a place where nature’s artistry was on full display, and every moment was imbued with a sense of wonder.
Descending from the lake, we reveled in the joy of camaraderie, laughing about the previous day’s struggles and the shared experience that had brought us even closer. Backpacking has a way of distilling life to its essence. In the midst of hardship and effort, you question why you’re putting yourself through such trials, missing the comforts of a bed and television. Yet, when you reach your destination, the sheer beauty and grandeur of nature’s creation erase those doubts. It’s a profound reminder of the world’s magnificence and the simple pleasures of exploration.
As we made our way toward Carson National Forest in northern New Mexico, our plan was to visit the San Antonio Hot Springs. However, fate had a different route in mind. We found ourselves on a peculiar road, its sandy surface slowing our progress and stirring unease in Greer. Given her recent car troubles, this unexpected detour heightened her anxiety. Realizing that continuing on this path was not the best option, we decided to turn back.
But sometimes, when plans go awry, serendipity steps in. Just off the country road we were navigating, we stumbled upon Soda Dam Hot Springs. The discovery was like finding an oasis in the desert. Soda Dam Hot Springs is a natural wonder, with its steaming waters flowing over mineral deposits that have formed dramatic, otherworldly structures. The spring’s water, rich in minerals, bubbles up from the earth, creating a surreal, almost ethereal environment. The steam rising from the warm waters contrasted beautifully with the cool mountain air, making it an unexpected delight and a much-needed respite.
Ecstatic about our find, we eventually decided to give the San Antonio Hot Springs another try, taking a longer, more assured route. And oh, were we glad we did! San Antonio Hot Springs was a revelation. Nestled in a secluded, serene spot, the springs were surrounded by rugged beauty and pristine nature. The warm, inviting waters were a stark contrast to the chilly evening air, offering a perfect blend of relaxation and rejuvenation. The setting sun painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a magical light over the landscape and the springs themselves. The hot springs felt like a hidden paradise, a place where time seemed to stand still, and all the stresses of the journey melted away in the warm embrace of the mineral-rich waters.
As the sun began to set, we were both exhilarated and exhausted. With the promise of a shorter drive the next day, we opted to press on past Santa Fe, ensuring a more relaxed journey ahead. The day’s adventures, with their blend of unexpected discoveries and serene moments, left us grateful for the road we had traveled and eager for the next chapter in our journey.
Day 6: Driving Back to Texas
As the sun rose on our final day, the road stretched out before us with a bittersweet sense of finality. The journey that had brought us so much joy and wonder was drawing to a close, and the reality of returning to our daily lives loomed large. With each mile, I was struck by the duality of the moment: the thrill of the adventure juxtaposed with the melancholy of its end.
Looking back now, I wish I had embraced this last day with deeper gratitude, savoring every moment as though I knew it would be our final road trip together. At the time, it was easy to be caught up in the routine of the drive, the anticipation of home, and the practicalities of daily life. But in retrospect, I realize that this journey was not just a passage through landscapes but a profound testament to our friendship.
In life, we never truly know when something will be our “last”—when we’ll last see a person, or when a chapter will come to a close. Having faced a near-death experience, I understand all too well the fragility and unpredictability of life. I take these moments seriously, though I admit there are times when I, too, take them for granted. Reflecting on this final road trip, I realize I didn’t fully appreciate the preciousness of our time together. I naively thought, “we’ll have our next roadtrip soon enough!.” I wish I had poured more gratitude into every laugh, every shared sunrise, and every mile we traveled.
The realization that this might be our last road trip together fills me with a poignant sense of nostalgia. It’s a reminder of the impermanence of life and the importance of cherishing each moment. Often, we forget that everything has an end, and we get caught up in the illusion of immortality. Our shared adventures were a rare gift, and I wish I had fully embraced them with the appreciation they deserved.
Greer, your friendship has been a beacon of light, guiding me through both the ordinary and extraordinary moments of our lives. As we drove away from this adventure, I was filled with a profound sense of love and gratitude for you. If life allows us another chance to hit the road together, I will embrace it with a heart open to the preciousness of each moment, knowing that such times are rare and to be cherished.
Thank you for being such an incredible part of this journey. The memories we created are a testament to the strength and beauty of our friendship. As we move forward, I hold onto the hope that we will have the opportunity to share more adventures in the future, with all the appreciation and joy that such moments truly deserve.
