We crept our way into Loveland at around 7pm or so. Traffic was kind - "Nothing much to report, you guys just aren't bumping into each other very much" was how the local news put it.

We arrive in Loveland, and it is dark.

Our host, Jennie, is a friend of mine from college. A beautiful, tiny blonde sculptress, she's teaching art to grade-schoolers nowadays, while keeping up with her own bronze-work. I'm eager to see her boyfriend again... Brandt's toy collection is unequalled (and actually, I bet HE doesn't even have a Zentraedi Battle Pod).

Anywho, it's time for soup, and photographs, and Scrabble, and sleep. Fried eggplant comes and goes, and we collapse into bed at around midnight.

The next morning, we discover that whole time change thing.

Fresh and rested at 9am, we feel decidedly unnatural. When we finally get out to lunch, we go to an all you can eat Indian lunch buffet, which may or may not be a good idea. Apparently the biggest effect of the altitude so far is to give BOTH of us monsterous gas. Jennie suggests standing on our heads, but Heather is unwilling to hold my legs, and I'm not going to do it for her if she won't do it for me, so we continue into the world, spreading noxious gastrointestinal distress.

From the highway outside the Indian restaurant we can see the mountains.

I pointed them out to Heather, who doesn't notice them on the horizon. They read as clouds, or fog, or something. Pay attention to them and they resolve into the nation's reknown "purple mountain majesties" - snow covered peaks looming in the distance. (In a rare display of self-control, I've edited out an Empire Strikes Back joke here).

After lunch, we catch up with Helenbeth and her man, Nick. It's time to go play.

Estes Park, is not a Park. It's a resort town, I think. I'm not totally sure on that, really, I'm sure someone will set me straight, eventually. But Estes Park is the first batch of lights we see after climbing into the mountains at a steady 35 mph for about half-an-hour. We've been crawling in darkness in a minivan, avoiding cliff-walls on one side, and a skittish, winding river on the other. Two deer make their presence known, and we struggle skyward.

I'm so glad Nick is driving. The Saturn would've cried. We pass a VW bus for sale. Sigh.

Estes Park is a welcome patch of side streets and shops and relatively flat ground. We make our way out to Mary's Lake Lodge. In the dark, we can't tell how big it is, but we step out to howling wind and crystalline skies. A bulging moon keeps us from seeing TOO many stars, but the place is gorgeous. Cold, but gorgeous. I've never been in the mountains at night, and though we're only about 3000 feet closer to the sky than we were in Loveland, the stars are there for the taking.

I was surprised by how well my little camera dealt with the light. Unfortunately, I didn't bring a tripod.