I’ve been counting down the days

I’ve been counting down the days. My boots are already by the door, the topo maps spread across my kitchen table, and my hydration pack’s been filled, emptied, and filled again just because I like hearing that swish when I walk by it. Aspen’s been calling me all year, and this summer, I’m finally answering.

I don’t even remember exactly when Aspen first landed on my radar—probably some hiking forum deep-dive or maybe one of those long YouTube binges when you start on “best trail running shoes” and end up watching elk bugling in Colorado. But something about the mix of alpine lakes, high passes, and that clean, sharp air at altitude—it’s like it’s been stitched into the back of my mind.

I’m eyeing mid-July, maybe third week, once the high trails open up and the snowmelt settles a bit. First stop? Maroon Bells. Yeah, I know it’s a cliche—everyone wants that sunrise shot over Maroon Lake—but honestly, some things are popular for a reason. You don’t not go see the pyramids if you’re in Cairo, right? Same logic.

The Four Pass Loop is at the top of my list, assuming my legs are ready for that kind of masochism. 27 miles, 8k feet of gain, and four mountain passes over 12,000 feet. I know it sounds insane to some, but I live for that type of hurt. There’s this weird moment around hour 7 or 8 on a long hike where your brain just shuts up and you’re just moving. Pure flow. I’m not fast, but I can go all damn day if the view keeps changing.

I’ve already gone full spreadsheet on this trip—gear lists, contingency plans, weather patterns, the works. Might even try to squeeze in Cathedral Lake or Electric Pass too if I have the legs. I read somewhere that Electric is the highest named pass in Colorado you can reach by trail. That’s the kind of dumb fact that makes me want to do something even more. I’ll probably regret it halfway up, cursing the switchbacks and convincing myself I should’ve just stayed home drinking beer on the porch, but I always come around by the summit.

The planning rabbit hole has been real. I’ve got my permits in place for the backcountry overnights. You’ve gotta be on it these days—those spots fill up so fast it’s like trying to score concert tickets in the 90s. People sleep on their laptops, no joke. But I snagged a few nights in Snowmass Lake area, and I’m pumped. Everyone says it’s magic in the early morning with the sun coming up over the water and the ridges lighting up like they’re on fire.

I’m not flying with all my gear—too risky. So I’m shipping a box to the hotel ahead of time. It’s an old trick I picked up from thru-hikers. I’m not walking the whole CDT or anything, but even for shorter trips, it’s nice not stressing about TSA yelling at you about your stove fuel.

The town itself, Aspen—I mean, it’s weirdly fancy for a hiking basecamp. Half the time I’m in sweaty poly layers and duct-taped trail runners, and then there’s some lady walking by with a handbag worth more than my car. But that’s the fun of it, right? You can come off a 3-day backpack smelling like a goat and still find a place serving incredible pizza or an IPA that doesn’t taste like you’re licking a pine tree.

Funny enough, I booked an aspen limo service to get me from the airport. I know, it sounds ridiculous. But hear me out—I landed late last time I was in CO, and the idea of figuring out rental cars or shuttle schedules after a long flight just felt like a headache I didn’t need. So yeah, I showed up to the trailhead feeling like James Bond in trail pants. No regrets.

I’ve also been thinking of doing a little detour day—nothing intense, just a chill loop or two near Ashcroft Ghost Town. Apparently, American Lake trail is super underrated, and you still get that postcard-quality scenery without the crowds. I love sneaking in those lesser-known spots. It feels like you found a secret, even though a thousand people have probably posted about it on Reddit already.

Depending on weather and how my knees feel, I might do a rest day in town. Maybe. I’m terrible at sitting still, but even I know when to give the joints a break. I bookmarked this hot springs spot a little drive away, and if I can snag a limousine service in Aspen, I might treat myself to a soak and a lazy afternoon just watching clouds snag on the peaks.

It’s not all hiking for me either. I bring a sketchpad and some watercolors—super amateur stuff, don’t get any ideas—but painting out on the trail makes me slow down. Forces me to notice things. The color of lichen on a rock, how shadows move across snowfields, the way columbine flowers grow in clusters where the snow’s just melted. You start to feel connected to a place on a weird, almost cellular level.

I already know I’m going to overpack. I do it every trip. I tell myself I’m going minimalist this time and then somehow end up with four pairs of socks I never wear and two too many snacks. But hey, the extra granola bars always make you friends on trail. Someone always forgets something.

Biggest wildcard right now is weather. It’s been an odd year across the Rockies, lots of late snow and weird melt patterns. So I’m keeping tabs on the trail reports, calling rangers, lurking on AllTrails like a creep. If I have to pivot, I’ve got plan B, C, and D. I might hop over to the Lost Man Loop or even just play it by ear and hit up some shorter out-and-backs near Independence Pass.

Anyway, this trip’s been a long time coming. A little solo reconnection, a little high-elevation suffering, a lot of mountain air and sore feet and mornings that start with breath misting out in front of you and end with stars so sharp it feels like you could hear them.

If you’re out that way and you see someone scribbling in a beat-up sketchpad next to a battered Osprey pack, say hey. I’ll probably have an extra bar in my hipbelt pocket.