But of course we took more pictures than we could fit into this journal. The "extra" shots can be found in the gallery.

From the trail to Gem Lake, one can see Estes Park and the Rocky Mountains.

Having gained experience with the down town, we began to realize that perhaps we WOULD NOT want to try to enter the national park during the Independence Day extended weekend. Advised by our waitress we headed to Gem Lake in the morning, with the trail-head parking lot located close to our accommodation, and outside the park boundary. We had shown up relatively early, but even so the lot was full. The trail itself looked accordingly, and the very lake was beset with tourists, but everyone behaved nice and friendly, and we did not lose our nerve.

Obligatory family snapshot at the holey rock.

Going back downhill, the crowds got noticeably denser, and the parking lot had overflown to the access road. Several tens of cars stood ditched along the main highway. This was not the first time when we got surprised that despite afternoon thunderstorms, people seem to set out into the mountains only around noon — into the greatest heat and highest probability that they'd get caught in bad weather. And bad weather at eight thousand feet elevation is not a banal affair. On the other hand, we could take advantage of the relative quiet of the morning hours, spending our afternoon playing cards at Karel's, napping and recuperating — and setting out in the evening bustling small town (that is, its least touristy end). We had discovered a Thai restaurant there, although run by Indians and thus heavily leaning into Indian fare thick with spices, but at least it was a change.

Where tourists gather, chipmunks become obnoxious and courageous.

On Monday we tried to sneak into the Rocky Mountain National Park through a secondary entrance in Wild Basin. Well, only the line to the ranger's checkpoint took half an hour. Ranger greeted us in Polish and said that we would have to park at the winter lot, walking the rest of the way, for there was no more space up at the trail-head. We did not mind in the end, for a beautiful path led beside the road, and it was not far. We wanted to visit a series of waterfalls, but ended up only at the first cascade. Tom tried to pan for gold there, found red transparent kernels, perhaps some semi-precious stone; at least something. Lisa splashed in the creek and plopped in the mud, and Hippo and I rested on the banks. It was beautiful at the creek, but the elevation kept us breathless, and we never gathered enough resolve to continue up.

Copeland Falls in the Wild Basin.

We were returning to our car with heavy thunderstorm clouds behind our backs, hoping for the weather to get better by the evening, for we had reserved an outdoors table at Mountain Strong, as it is located on a slope with a view to the lake over which fireworks were to be held. I have to say that it was the most comfortable celebration of Independence Day that we had ever experienced — sitting on patio pub chairs, having had a good dinner. And the fireworks we truly amazing. We had no idea that it was possible to conjure spirals, stars, letters and smiley faces in the sky! Our dinner included an interesting moment with Lisa — as she had insisted on steak, we offered her a small filet mignon, but she refused — she wanted a proper big steak. In the end, she had been right; her ribeye was naturally not as tender as the tenderloin, but more interesting in flavor, as it had been aged. And Lisa devoured all 12 ounces of it!

Independence Day fireworks in Estes Park.

On Tuesday we had finally dared to enter the depths of the National Park, assuming naively that crowds must go back to work sometimes, and there would be some room. Well, perhaps there was, at least more than during all the previous holidays, but we still found it pretty crazy. Using a park shuttle while it rained, we had eventually reached Bear Lake, which we deserted very quickly on account of hollering hordes picnicking on its shores, and tried to embark on a trail into the depths of nature, perhaps there in would improve? It did not. At our next stop, Alberta Falls, it was so full tourists were at risk of elbowing each other into the stream. Not to speak of the long gone friendliness and good spirits, so common in less exposed areas. People photo-bombed each other, crawled over other folk's stuff — and the density of smurtfone zombies was peaking, as they stumbled through a boulder maze with their natural view blocked by screens held in front of their faces.

Alberta Falls in Rocky Mountains National Park.

Soo, we made ourselves scarce, getting back in our car, and driving a loop through the park — it's not necessary to stress that it was raining and thundering again, which is no weather for safe mountain hiking, even if we felt like it. A subsequent evening war council resulted in reserving a hotel room in Craig, Colorado, for Wednesday, counting on our orderly retreat from Estes Park — a retreat most dignified of course; we still were to cross the whole Rocky Mountains National Park from east to west!

Thus we packed our stuff in the morning, made last attempt to return Karel's cozy dwelling back into its original state, and headed toward home, west. Our drive through the park proceeded according to our expectations — a somewhat popular affair in the very sense of the word, but the high elevation tundra is really very pretty. The road reaches 12,183 ft at its highest point, and it was quite cold and windy there. It obviously did not bother a marmot, who was digging in the grass and wandering among rocks right behind the concrete wall separating it from the tourists. Its behavior reminded me much of our hamster.

It's 3pm and it rains again over Horseshoe Park.

Two rangers held guard over the hapless rodent, ricocheting tourists. They swore that the marmot was not on park (and thus federal) payroll, and that it was quite used to the crowds' interest. Alas, the marmot and a few elks were the only wildlife that does not seem to mind people. We have not spotted any mountain goats during all our stay, and in the end the only bighorn sheep you can find our our pictures is Lisa's Sierra.

Our Sierra was the only visible bighorn sheep in the whole Rockies.

Another hotel awaited us in Craig; after having it so nice at Karel's for five days, it was a shock. But we could use a swimming pool and the greatest attraction came in the form of some other guests who got accommodated with their pet pig — allegedly house trained. The pig, grunting on a leash in the corridor, suffered our admiration with dignity. Theories surfaced again on topic of what would possibly the staff of such "pet friendly" establishment say to our goats. Leaving Craig, our journey led across the whole Utah to Elko, Nevada. We had planned an excursion to Dinosaur National Park, which, according to online pages, sports two ends — a Colorado one lacking bones, which we thus had dismissed on the grounds of not having enough time, and the Utah end, offering a quarry with remains of prehistoric lizard, which we hoped to visit. But as we drove through a beautiful landscape, we were captivated by fantastic geologic features — wavy rocks elevated above surrounding plains, striped cliffs — and upon reaching the "less interesting" entrance, we succumbed and made a detour.

Tourists admiring the tundra and peaks of the Rocky Mountains.

A ranger had confirmed that if we did not have time to drive thirty five miles to the main view point, we should find a pretty spot only after four miles. And so we went in, braking much sooner than after four miles. Beautiful rocks reminding us of Arches caught our fancy. And then the SILENCE. After a while, just ONE car drove by. Incredible. We continued to Plug Hat Butte, where we again figured on our own and could quietly admire the unbelievably colorful rocks.

Marmot at 12,000 ft ASL.

A decision was reached to try to drive through this end after all, at least a bit more. Yet once past the Plug Hat, one reaches the top of the mesa and the road continues for many miles through a relatively uninteresting landscape with ranches. We encountered several more cars — workers fixing fences. By then our gas level approached reserve level, and so we stopped at Canyon Overlook and had to return to civilization; perhaps we shall reach the end of that road next time. Canyon Overlook offers a view to the Green River canyon. It certainly competes with the much more famous canyon of the red river (Grand Canyon).

Carol in the eastern Dinosaur National Park, with Green River canyon in background.

There was not way around it, we were picking a fuel and time deficit; we had to move. Kids had been promised the dinosaur bone end. This, of course, was flooded with tourists again, but it's no wonder. In an exposed and covered side of a hill, you can see one and half thousand bones of prehistoric lizards. I did not expect it all being so huge and impressive. And here we were, in another park which we had planned only by the way, and it became a relatively important point of our trip.

A rare preserved skull of prehistoric lizard.

Stopping for dinner in a Wendover, Nevada, casino, we found it far from cheap, but at least we could choose anything we fancied at the buffet — and top it off with a heap of ice cream. We had reached Elko just as we expected by nine in the evening. The hotel reservation system had crashed earlier that day, and before the poor receptionist could disentangle a long line of waiting customers, I pushed through with the kids to the swimming pool. We really needed to stretch our completely stiff bones and muscles after eight hours of driving. Especially since we wanted to stretch the following day and get all the way home, which looked like another eight hours.

Eventually it might have been more, for including the break for lunch and shopping in Reno (we threw some supplies for home into our traveling cooler so that we did not have to shop again back home), we had reached Silicon Valley after five o'clock in the afternoon. That's when the traffic reaches total collapse, and it took a whole hour to cover the last twenty miles. Well, at least we felt for real like home again, back in our old groove.