Go Your Own Way For anyone paying attention to the ultrarunning world, Leadville-based Courtney Dauwalter is a household name. Boulder’s David Roche, meanwhile, set a swift pace toward GOAT status by breaking the course record at the Leadville 100 this past August. The ultrarunners share the same goal: pushing the limits of what the human body can do. Their approaches, however, are pointedly different.
Go for: the soundtrack of glacial calving As I drift unhurriedly among a cluster of aquamarine icebergs in an expedition raft on Alaska’s Alsek Lake, words escape me. Conversation seems out of place among these ethereal glacial remnants, looming like icy castles against a moody sky.
Even in a state as saturated with dramatic peaks and geological marvels as Colorado, it’s thrilling to get up close and personal with something as grand — and as emblematic of our ballooning climate change crisis — as a glacier. Given the near certainty of continued climate chaos in coming years, seeing these remnants of the last ice age is becoming a catch-them-while-you-can prospect.
When Jon Waterman first visited the Alaskan Arctic in 1983 as a Denali National Park ranger on patrol at the wild Noatak River, he had no idea how profoundly the experience would shape his life. Today, the Carbondale-based award-winning author—as prolific an environmental writer and researcher as he is an intrepid explorer and adventurer—has just released his 17th book, Into the Thaw: Witnessing Wonder amid the Arctic Climate Crisis (November 12, 2024).
On a crisp early October morning in downtown Crested Butte, the aspens are doing their thing, radiating gold and fluttering audibly in the breeze. Sunshine warms the shoulders of couples strolling along Elk Avenue—dogs on leashes, coffees in hand—against the backdrop of the town’s eponymous peak. Planters overflowing with fall blooms gild pastel-painted Victorian buildings, and handwritten chalkboard signs beckon passersby to pop through the open doors of storefronts. The whole vibe is impossibly quaint—perhaps more so because of the quirky free-spiritedness that makes the charm feel genuine.
We found 116 reasons to fall in love with the Mile High City all over again. From the tastiest scoop of ice cream to the most inviting patio for summer sips to the hippest new lodging in town, we tracked down the best of the best that the Mile High City has to offer. The result is a curated list of 37 editors’ choices that complement our 79 readers’ choice winners.
So, you’re itching for an adventure. Not surprising, given most Coloradans’ proximity to, well, a veritable promised land of mountains, crags, trails, rivers, and general outdoorsy splendor. Given the options, though, it can be a little overwhelming to narrow down what, exactly, you want to do, and where, exactly, you can do it. And chances are, if you want to really push yourself outside your recreational comfort zone, you’ll need a backcountry guide. Enter 57hours, a platform that connects adrenaline seekers—of all levels—and outdoor guides in much the same way that VRBO or Airbnb connect vacationers and homeowners.
As I wobble along the via ferrata’s cable-wire bridge stretched across the Uncompahgre Gorge in Ouray, I keep reminding myself of one thing: Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Do. Not. Look. Down. That’s because a ribbon of frothy whitewater churns far below me. It’s the first feature of the Ouray Via Ferrata’s downstream route. My friend and I, despite our lack of rock climbing experience, are harnessed and helmeted behind our mountain guide, Micah Lewkowitz of Mountain Trip, who’d already cruised across the cable and swiveled around to snap photos of us. Via ferrata is Italian for “iron path,” a concept that dates to World War I in Italy’s Dolomites, where they were developed to maneuver troops through inaccessible terrain. It’s a system of steel rungs, ladders, bridges, and cables permanently bolted into rock walls and ledges. This one follows the east side of the 180-foot-deep gorge, across from the famous Ouray Ice Park, for nearly a mile.
Staying at a dude ranch in the West is a rite of passage for many vacationers. So beloved is the experience that for decades, the same families have booked the same weeks at the same guest ranches in Colorado. Some of these destinations are more luxurious than others, but all of them offer a taste of the iconic, gritty Old West (horseback riding! chuckwagon feasts!) intertwined with the gourmet meals and guided adventures. Because of COVID-19, however, the way guest ranches operate has necessarily had to change. Early on, the pandemic took an economic toll on many ranches, where communal traditions like family-style dinners and campfire jam sessions became a little too close for comfort in a virus-y world. While early closures, capacity restrictions, and staff cuts dealt catastrophic blows to some, almost every ranch owner had to make difficult decisions about how to survive—and hopefully thrive—in the new normal. But change wasn’t easy.
Somewhere between Russia’s Kamchatka Peninsula and Japan’s northernmost island of Hokkaido, just off the coast of a tiny volcanic island called Raikoke, a small vessel bobbed in the chop of the Sea of Okhotsk. An assorted group of photographers, scientists, and filmmakers lined the boat’s railing and stared in disbelief as the landscape came into focus. The island, usually lush and green, smoldered in an ashy gray state of complete desolation. The air was heavy with sulfuric smoke tendrils, and flocks of birds circled in infinite loops overhead with nowhere to land. The sea-lapped shores, once home to a thriving sea lion rookery, had been reduced to smoking rubble.
In the summer of 2021, Kim Miller found himself in a familiar position: considering the best move to shepherd his team through a life-threatening storm. In his previous life as an expedition leader, he’d shouldered that very burden on plenty of high peaks. As the CEO of Scarpa North America, he now faced a different deadly threat: Covid-19. “My mentality as a leader is to keep people safe,” Miller says. “And motivated, engaged, and happy at a time when people are freaking out.”
[Co-bylined] Aaaand, that’s a wrap on the 2022 Outdoor Retailer Snow Show. As attendees trickled in to hit their last meetings and squeeze in just a few more booths, conversations were upbeat. Coffee queue congratulations were plentiful coming off of last night’s fourth annual Innovation Awards ceremony, where 14 winners were crowned by an independent judging panel for their game-changing outdoor products and services.
[Co-bylined] Right on cue, the flakes were flying outside the Convention Center as the second day of the OR Snow Show ramped up. The morning kicked off with an early session covering outdoor market research and consumer trends, which parsed data on a phenomenon we’ve all happily witnessed over the past couple of years: More people are itching to buy outdoor stuff. In fact, the core outdoor market grew by $5 billion between 2019 and 2021, now sitting at $27.4 billion. Accompanying this data was the pointed re
[Co-bylined] The Outdoor Retailer Snow Show 2022 returned to the Colorado Convention Center today on an appropriately wintery morning. The general vibe? Subdued. And as the morning unfolded, cautiously hopeful.
Pick a weekend in Colorado—literally any weekend—and odds are that somewhere within our state’s boundaries, you’ll find a bunch of sweaty people sporting race bibs, timing chips, and an array of moisture-wicking, speed-enhancing, heart-rate-tracking gear. They might be on bikes or wearing skis or in kayaks. Maybe they’re just hoofing it in sneakers. It could be a snowy January day in the city or a scorcher in July on a high mountain pass. The exact details of each competition—be it a 5K, a century ride, or a backcountry ultra-grind—are mostly irrelevant. What is important to note? Friendly (albeit high-caliber) athletic competition is a way of life here in the Centennial State.
THERE’S SOMETHING humbling about spending the night enveloped by the profound, soft silence of snowfall or a luminous blanket of white under the stars. It’s a sensory joyride—but winter camping should never be undertaken on a whim.
Whether you’re a luxury lover or a catch-your-own-dinner kind of traveler, one thing makes any getaway sweeter: Having your four-legged friend in tow.
A frothy sea rages beneath a moody sky along the coast of Panama. It's mid-February, the day after her thirty-third birthday, and Frisco's Bethany Hughes is perched on a driftwood log near the water's edge. Frustrated, she casts sidelong glances at the whitecaps rolling in on the horizon.
Any runner worth her salt is willing to take to the road on the quest for ever more challenging races. If those races happen to be in some of the most stunning landscapes in the West? So be it. Here are the iconic races—and amazing experiences—that keep us motivated through even the gnarliest long-run days.
On the horizon, barely visible through the falling snow, you can see them: elk, by the hundreds, silhouetted against the shadowy mountains beyond. Rolling meadows stretch in every direction, and Tarryall Creek, framed by the muted deep-gold of late-fall willows and shrubs, snakes its way through the land. Just off a rutted dirt road, an adobe-style pueblo-revival ranch house, built in 1928, stands hollowly, yet proudly over the landscape it anchors—a reminder of a bygone era, and a beacon of potential.
