Five measly seconds.

It’s the duration of a long fart or a short text message. There’s a reason the five-second rule applies to a dropped Cheeto—it was barely on the ground!

Alas, this tiny amount of time separates me from achieving the only athletic goal I have cared about in decades. On a crisp morning last October I slumped over the handlebars of my road bike, gasping for air and fighting back the urge to puke. I had just raced my bicycle up , one of the popular paved climbs here in Boulder. My objective was to break the magical 30-minute barrier on the climb’s Strava segment, which is called .

My legs throbbed, my lungs burned, and I tasted blood—all signs that I had pushed my body to its physical limit. After the pain wore off, I opened the Strava app and peered through sweat at my finishing time: 30:04. I was five seconds from glory.

I wanted to both cry and laugh at the absurdity of having pushed myself to the brink and come up short by a long fart’s—or short text message—worth of time. As I caught my breath, I realized that my bewildering reaction was connected to Flagstaff Road itself. This five-mile stretch of pavement, rising 2,200 vertical feet from Boulder’s leafy neighborhoods to a collection of mailboxes surrounded by conifer trees, had come to play an outsized role in my life.

Over the past few years I have obsessively ridden Flagstaff Road, logging no fewer than 385 ascents since 2019, according to my Strava data. As of the publishing of this story, I have completed 65 ascents of it in 2024 alone—that’s about once every two-and-a-half days. I ride Flagstaff in every season, climbing it in sunshine, rain, and even snow. Some days I ride it hard, other days I go easy. On some mornings I will complete three or even four ascents before work. On a chilly evening this past October I strapped blinky lights to my handlebars and helmet and rode Flagstaff at midnight under a full moon.

To be clear: I am not bragging about my fixation with this climb. This is entirely a confession of neurotic and Sisyphean behavior that absolutely defies logic. Flagstaff isn’t even my favorite climb, nor is it the best road ascent here in Boulder. The super-steep Magnolia Drive is harder. Sugarloaf Road boasts prettier scenery. There are far fewer cars driving along Deer Trail Road or Super Jamestown than there are on Flagstaff. And the Gold Hill General Store, with its delicious homemade cookies, awaits anyone willing to ride Sunshine Canyon Road all the way to the top. But still—I ride Flagstaff Road.

There are, of course, hundreds of Flagstaff Roads across the country—popular ascents that become the focal point of obsessive personalities. Old La Honda Drive, Emigration Canyon Road, Glendora Mountain Road, Bear Mountain, Lookout Mountain, to name a few. I’ve ridden many of these ascents before, and I’ve heard tales of cyclists who ride them every day, day after day, rain or shine. A decade ago I never would have predicted that I’d someday join the ranks of the single-climb-obsessed, but here I am.

It wasn’t always this way. Back in my twenties I indulged in long and carefree rides on the many climbs dotting Colorado’s Front Range, rarely ascending the same incline more than once in the same week. In that chapter of my life, riding a bicycle fulfilled my bottomless appetite for freedom, and I faced zero consequences if a pre-work excursion went long, or if a weekend adventure lasted for six or seven hours.

And then I grew up and entered middle age. Greater professional responsibilities torpedoed those mid-week hooky rides, and marriage and parenthood made my hours-long weekend outings a thing of the past. New stresses and pressures entered my life as I joined the American middle-class: mortgage payments, tantrums, insurance premiums, backyard sprinkler systems gone haywire. My bicycle took on a different role in my life—rather than a vehicle for adventure, it became equal parts workout tool and stress-busting weapon. My rides shortened and intensified, and I focused on incinerating calories and dousing my synapses with endorphins.

Instinctively, I sought out the hardest climb that required the shortest distance to and from my office and my home. An ascent where I could punish my legs and lungs, burn off the workday tension, and be back at my desk in an hour flat. One climb fit the criteria: Flagstaff Road. I started riding it on weekdays, then weekends. After my daughter was born in 2019, my ascents became more frequent.

Convenience pushed me to Flagstaff Road, but an altogether different dynamic has kept me coming back. Over time, those repeats tattooed the roadway onto my brain. After a few hundred ascents, I memorized the gradient of every switchback, and the placement of every pothole. I could guess my ascent time to within 30 seconds based entirely on my perceived effort. Put a blindfold on me and I could ride to the summit and back without incident.

With such familiarity, my riding style changed. I could switch off the parts of my brain that focus on time, direction, and spatial awareness, and instead focus on areas of my life that required attention: the cause of an argument, solution to that financial setback, the structure of a column that wouldn’t quite write itself. Sometimes, the mixture of hypoxia and lactic acid helped me find solutions to my woes. My senses became hyper-attuned to the variations caused by seasons, weather, or time of day. I studied the different smells that wafted across different sections of the ascent: wildflowers, pine needles, damp grass, hydraulic brake fluid.

I have, at times, worried that this obsessive riding would lead to boredom and burnout, and I have hypothesized that my repeats are simply an extension of the banality of suburban life. Chop wood, carry water, pedal up a ribbon of asphalt aboard an expensive bicycle, then repeat. But there’s a different type of freedom that occurs during my Flagstaff rides. I have no clue the places my mind will go between the first pedal rotation and the last, or what grand conclusions I will come to about parenting or writing during my five-mile ascent.

I am not alone, and in recent years I have seen the same bicyclists riding Flagstaff Road, all huffing and puffing and working out their problems a few times each week. There’s Randy the physicist, Miguel the dad, and a grandpa in DayGlo who rides before the sun comes up. I recently read on Facebook that my old Yoga instructor Rob Loud biked up Flagstaff 126 in 2023. And every June, a group of Boulderites all ride Flagstaff Road every day for an entire week. Organized by the co-founders of the local boutique bike brand Mosaic Cycles, Flagstaff Week is a celebration of the climb and those who worship it.

I asked Aaron Barchek, one of the ride’s founders, why Flagstaff Road grabs ahold of some of us, and compels us to ride it over and over again.

“It’s the one climb that everybody knows,” he told me. “It’s the proving ground for Boulder. Everybody knows their fastest Flagstaff time.”

For now, my record will remain at 30:04. I raced up it during Flagstaff Week in early June, and again slumped over my bicycle at the top, gasping for breath. My Strava time read 30:44. I’m not getting any faster, but I’ll keep coming back.

The post One Cyclist’s Obsession with Riding the Same Climb Over and Over Again appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

Author’s note: This mini-guide uses . This advanced technology is the most accurate means of measuring elevation. The newness of LiDar-reported heights may differ slightly from existing maps.Ìę

Boulder, Colorado, is a hiker’s paradise. The city sits on the geographic hinge where the Great Plains give way to the Rocky Mountains. Some hiking trails start from town and wander to the tops of 8,000+ foot summits. Less aggressive trails explore rolling meadows and ancient mesas on the city’s east side. Wildlife thrives in shaded, vanilla-scented forests and open grasslands, and clear mountain streams rush down dramatic canyons, flowing into pastoral farmland. Boulder’s varied landscapes and four-season access make it one of the best places in America for hiking adventures.

Jump to: Best Day Hikes in Boulder | Best Big All-Day Hikes | Best Dog Park N’ Hikes in Boulder | Gear, Weather, and Tips for Boulder Hiking

Best Day Hikes in Boulder

Whether you are into peak bagging or bird watching, Boulder’s varied terrain has hikes for a wide range of interests.

Marshall Mesa – Greenbelt Plateau

Best “Welcome to Boulder” Hike

â–ș This is my favorite loop at Marshall Mesa. It wanders uphill, slowly reaching the high point along the Greenbelt Plateau. Briefly retrace your steps back to the main loop and finish at the parking lot.Ìę

Trailhead Parking:
Distance: 3.6 miles
Elevation Gain: 490 feet
Notes: $5 daily / $25 annual fee for non-Boulder residents. Dogs must be leashed or have tags.
Right click and “save link as” or long press on mobile to download GPX file: Marshall Mesa GPX file

• Easy parking and terrain
• Incredible views of the Flatirons rock formations
• Great network of trails for wandering

No other hike in Boulder captures the magic and majesty of this ancient landscape than Marshall Mesa. Views of Boulder’s iconic Flatiron rock formations are the stars of the show. These towering iron monoliths denote the eastern boundary of the Rocky Mountains in dramatic fashion. Far on the northwest horizon, 14,000-foot Longs Peak stands guard over the high apexes of Rocky Mountain National Park. Boulder Valley shimmers below when viewed from the high meadows atop Greenbelt Plateau.

Community Ditch is a man-made canal carved into the mesa that usually runs until mid-summer before it dries up. It’s reborn each spring and is a great place for your dog to cool off when it’s running. Nearby, Marshall Lake is hidden on the eastern side of the mesa. Though it’s inaccessible to hikers, seeing it from a distance reminds one of a desert oasis. Views to the east go all the way to the Denver metropolis area. Enormous windmills to the south add a touch of “modern marvel” to your adventure.

Hikers can cruise easy trails in less than four miles and take in what makes Boulder so special. Hiking at sunrise or sunset—especially in winter—creates a dreamy atmosphere perfect for photographers chasing Golden Hour snapshots. Marshall Mesa is rich with emotionally moving landscapes, from prehistoric geography to dazzling city lights.

Green Mountain via Gregory Canyon

Best In-Town Summit Hike

â–ș It’s hard to pick my favorite mountain hike, but since I’ve hiked Green Mountain over 100 times, I think that data speaks for itself. It can be hiked year-round, but be sure to bring microspikes during winter’s snowy and icy conditions.Ìę

Trailhead Parking:
Distance: 5.4 miles out-and-back
Elevation Gain: 2,360 feet
Notes: $5 daily / $25 annual fee for non-Boulder residents. Dogs must be leashed or have Boulder’s Voice and Sight tags.
Download:ÌęGreen Mountain via Gregory Canyon GPX file

• Legit summit hike right in town
• See the power of Boulder’s 2013 floods
• Fun last push to the iconic summit block

8,144-foot Green Mountain is a true mountain hike. It gains 2,360’ of elevation in 2.7 miles, making it a great 3-5 hour outing. The route featured here starts at Gregory Canyon and follows a small creek before scrambling onto the shoulder of Green Mountain. Destruction from the 2013 Boulder floods will be evident in the exaggerated gash cut along the banks of the tiny stream below.

At 1.2 miles, the Gregory Canyon Trail ends at the Green Mountain Lodge, a stone building still used for events. Take the Ranger Trail and begin a steady-then-steep ascent 0.9 miles to the junction with the Green Mountain West Ridge Trail/E.M. Greenman Trail. Follow the punchy E.M. Greenman Trail 0.2 miles up steep stone steps to the iconic summit block. An easy scramble offers 360-degree views with particularly impressive vistas of the Indian Peaks to the west. The metal sighting disk on the top sort of lines up with peaks along the horizon and does accurately name the sequence of summits.

You will absolutely get a workout on this hike. Though you only spend a blip of time truly above treeline, there are excellent views throughout this adventure. The forests of Green Mountain are home to a host of wildlife, including a few of Boulder’s generally shy black bears (give them space if you see them).

Note: Parking at Gregory Canyon can get very crowded, especially on summer weekends. A nice alternative for busy weekends is to park at the Chapman Drive Trailhead up Boulder Canyon and hike 2.3 miles up the Chapman Drive Trail. This road was converted to a hiking path and deposits you at the Green Mountain Lodge after crossing Flagstaff Road, making for a 9+ mile out-and-back round-trip.

Sawhill Ponds

Best Hike for Peaceful Strolls & Bird Watching

â–ș Sawhill Ponds is the perfect place to slow down, chill out, and take in a hidden side of Boulder. It’s a great place for a conversation with a friend, to take the dogs, or just gaze into the micro-environments in the ponds themselves.Ìę

Trailhead Parking:
Distance: 2+Ìęmiles of interconnected trails
Elevation Gain: 100 feet
Dogs: Must be leashed west of the main parking lot.
Download: Sawhill Ponds GPX fileÌę

• Mellow, flat terrain with good handicap access
• Excellent birding
• Change of pace from Boulder’s busy in-town trails

The smattering of pools that make up Sawhill Ponds was once part of a gravel mine. Today, (CPW) owns the property. It sits quietly on the flat outskirts of east Boulder. Yes, the area is a refuge for birds and other wildlife, but it’s also a nice retreat from the busy, type-A, go-fast-style of many of Boulder’s other trails. While there are occasional runners, the vibe of Sawhill Ponds is to slow down.

I fell in love with this area as my dogs aged out of big mountain hikes. Our walks at Sawhill were a splendor of smells and sounds, perfect for senior pups who still have a lot of curiosity. Birders, photographers, and casual walkers appreciate the serene, quiet atmosphere, made more tranquil in the stillness of winter.

Sawhill Ponds connects with the Walden Ponds Wildlife Habitat. The trails that span the two make for fine wandering, even if it’s only about three miles of terrain. It’s a beautiful place to catch a sunset or revisit throughout the year to experience seasonal palettes of the flora.

Bear Peak via Fern Canyon

Best Summit Views

â–ș I love everything about this hike. It starts out on the amazing grounds of the National Center for Atmospheric Research (NCAR), where parking is free, plentiful, and paved. Descending into the forests of the foothills is a quiet transformation that is fully realized in the rich flora of Fern Canyon. The last push to the summit is a great workout. The summit block is the “chef’s kiss” ending to an already excellent hike.Ìę

Trailhead Parking:
Distance: 5.6 miles out-and-back
Elevation Gain: 2,755 feet
Notes: No parking fees. Dogs must be leashed or have Boulder’s Voice and Sight tags in designated areas.
Download: Bear Peak via Fern Canyon GPX fileÌę

• Shady, steep access trail
• Best 360-degree summit views in Boulder
• Exciting little summit scramble

This route starts at the parking lot of NCAR, a futuristic-vibe building that overlooks the city of Boulder from its location atop a modest mesa. Begin your hike by passing through a short 0.1-mile collection of informative plaques, then follow the NCAR Trail downhill to its junction with the Mesa Trail. Take the Mesa Trail south as it descends to Bear Creek.

At roughly 1.4 miles into your hike, turn right (west) into the Fern Canyon Trail. This shady, steep trail grinds up rocky terrain, occasionally using stone steps to ascent short, punchy sections. Eventually, the trail hits a series of switchbacks before arriving at a short-lived saddle between Bear Peak and a rock feature known as Nebel Horn. After a brief pause, the trail resumes its vertical prerogative. The last quarter-mile scrambles along rocky plates and finally breaks above treeline, culminating in a surprisingly thrilling short scramble to Bear Peak’s summit. The open 360-degree views from the top may be the very best in all of Boulder. Note the iron-heavy rock of the summit block can get very slick when wet.

Peak baggers almost can’t resist the 20-minute hike from Bear Peak to 8,550’ South Boulder Peak. It’s a 0.3-mile walk one-way (0.6 miles out-and-back from Bear’s summit area) and worth the trek, though the views are better from the slightly lower Bear Peak. Return via Fern Canyon to the Mesa Trail and back to the NCAR Trailhead.

Sugarloaf Mountain

Best Easy Hike With Ridiculously Good Views

â–ș Despite being only about a 20-minute drive from downtown Boulder, Sugarloaf is more of a locals’ mountain than a tourist attraction. It’s a great destination for photographers or those who want to simply sit and take in the thought-provoking difference between the civilized plains to the east and the wild mountains to the west.Ìę

Trailhead Parking:
Distance: 1.3 miles out-and-back
Elevation Gain: 411 feet
Notes: Parking is free. Sugarloaf Mountain Road is a 1-mile dirt road that turns off the paved Sugarloaf Road at its highest point. It’s steep but passable by passenger cars and is maintained throughout the year.
Download: Sugarloaf GPX file

• High-elevation summit with a low-mileage hike
• Excellent vantage point between the foothills and the Rocky Mountains
• The perfect peak for a mountain picnic

Sugarloaf Mountain is the namesake peak of the Sugarloaf community, a rural pocket of incorporated Boulder County. Despite being a short and relatively easy walk-up, Sugarloaf’s summit is 8,924 feet—taller than the high peaks that stand over Boulder’s Flatiron rock formations.

Sugarloaf sits as a midway point between the plains to the east and the first true surge of the 10,000-foot plus peaks of the Rocky Mountains spanning the western horizon. It’s a quick hike and a perfect escape when you’re short on time or just want stunning views for less effort. Sunrises and sunsets are equally spectacular from atop Sugarloaf Mountain. It’s a good family hike for hearty kids. The rocky summit area has the shells of elder trees that perished in fires. The trail is never severely exposed or steep, but it can take your breath away if you haven’t acclimated to high altitude.

It’s a simple, straightforward mountain, and well worth the visit. It’s interesting to see the trio of 8,000-foot peaks above Boulder from the west. The glowing metropolis of Denver shines to the east, a distant contrast from the rugged, hilly terrain underfoot.

Mount Sanitas Loop via the Goat Path Trail

Best Classic Boulder Hike With City Views

â–ș When I lived in North Boulder, it wasn’t unusual to do this route five days a week and over 100 times a year. It was a great place to hike or run with my border collie, though it didn’t really seem to tire him out much. If you’re going in the winter, bring microspikes, as the trail still sees a lot of traffic, and the snow gets pressed into ice fairly quickly.ÌęÌę

Trailhead Parking:
Distance: 3.9-mile lollipop loop
Elevation Gain: 1,650 feet
Notes: Parking is free at this particular trailhead off Linden Avenue. Dogs must be leashed or have Boulder’s Voice and Sight tags in designated areas.
Download: Mount Sanitas GPX file

• Great workout right in town
• Spanning eastern views to Denver and beyond
• Good for people watching

Mount Sanitas is one of Boulder’s most popular mountain hikes. It’s right in town and is a heck of a workout—1,650 vertical feet—in a a 1-1.5 hour outing. It can be busy, especially on weekends, but the crowds tend to disperse along the trails. Trail runners and folks walking their dogs are often in the mix with hikers.

This route starts at the northern end of the trail system along the Goat Path Trail, a quieter alternative to the busier, pay parking lots to the south. Parking at the Goat Path Trailhead is free. A prelude walk up the Goat Path ends with a steep but short connection to the Sanitas Valley Trail, then loops up to the 6,835-foot summit. Note that this high point is technically the shoulder of an unnamed parent peak known informally as “Northwest Sanitas”, which is on private property.

Ramble south down the well-maintained rock staircases and occasional flats as you return to the Sanitas Valley Trail to close the loop. Views of Boulder and, eventually, Denver to the east are showcased throughout the hike. Sunsets here can be particularly enchanting. Finish the hike by taking the Goat Path downhill and back to the parking area.

Walker Ranch Loop

Best Winter Hike

â–ș I love mountain biking Walker as much as I do hiking it. Walking the trail lets you see more details than you would zipping by on a bike—and there is a lot to see. The river areas are particularly pretty, with large pines framing the fast-moving water. If you’re short on time, you can always go counterclockwise at the start and get down to the river (1 mile), enjoy the lush canyon, and then trudge right back up.

Trailhead Parking:
Distance: 7.7 mile loop
Elevation Gain: 1,914 feet
Notes: Parking is free. Dogs must be on leash. Please be extra careful with your dogs around the swift water of South Boulder Creek; the current moves fast enough to sweep even big breeds away in a flash.
Download: Walker Ranch Loop GPX file

• The midpoint of the loop descends to a gorgeous riverside area
• A great shoulder-season loop
• Scenic drive to the trailhead

Walker Ranch is a good hike year-round, but it’s a multi-use trail that does allow mountain bikes—so keep an eye out for people on two wheelers. (Admittedly, it’s a very fun place to mountain bike thanks to the burly climbs, occasional technical sections, and screaming-fast downhills.) Walker Ranch is thus one of my favorite winter hikes since there will only be a smattering of cold-weather bikers—often none at all. Shoulder season conditions of cold or snow also keep bikers away.

The Walker Ranch Loop Trailhead is the standard starting point. Getting there involves a drive (or pedal, if you’re feeling feisty) up Flagstaff Road, a steep, paved, switchbacking mountain road that grinds up to the trailhead. Once there, the loop can be hiked in either direction—I prefer clockwise, but you can’t go wrong either way.

Going clockwise, you’ll begin your hike with a short descent and quick ascent to the trail’s highest point at 7,311 feet. From there, drop into a shady forest that begins an 800-vertical-foot drop down to 6,477 feet into the mini-canyon of South Boulder Creek. Cross a sturdy bridge over the creek and scramble to the base of a long staircase. This is a great place for lunch. Push up the stairs and continue the loop, ascending to the Crescent Meadows Trailhead, then dropping back to South Boulder Creek. The final mile out climbs an open hillside and gains 600 vertical feet. I prefer ascending the mid-way staircase versus descending it, so I like sticking to the clockwise route.

Doudy Draw to Flatirons Vista

Best Hike for Wildflowers and Flora

â–ș As much as I love mountain hikes, the plains of south Boulder are also strikingly beautiful. This is one of my favorite hikes for dogs, especially in the colder months. Easing along the flat land below the mesa to the higher, the forested area feels surprisingly dramatic. Views of the Flatirons and into Eldorado Canyon are mesmerizing. This trail system is also excellent for runners.ÌęÌę

Trailhead Parking:
Distance: 7.5-mile lollipop loop
Elevation Gain: 895 feet
Notes: $5 daily / $25 annual fee for non-Boulder residents. Dogs must be leashed or have Boulder’s Voice and Sight tags. Don’t park on the road if they’re aren’t spots are available in the Doudy Draw Lot. Instead, try the South Mesa Trailhead just across the street. Boulder cops love to give tickets to cars parked on the road.
Download: Doudy Draw-Flatirons Vista GPX file

• The hike starts with open meadows and then reaches a scenic pine forest
• Unique views of South Boulder’s preserved grasslands
• Options to link into several other trails

Boulder’s wildflower season usually peaks in early June, and no local hike blooms with as much beauty as the Flatirons Vista Trail. This hike begins at the Doudy Draw Trailhead and can get very busy on summer weekends. It’s best to go late in the day or early on weekends.

The trail itself begins on a flat, gravel path that morphs into the Doudy Draw Trail. Open meadows highlight the last vestige of the Great Plains before rising into the foothills. Continue up a switchbacking trail where the views open momentarily before ducking back into the sparsely forested Flatirons Vista Trail. This loop is a 3-mile tour of the mesa that reaches all the way to Highway 93 before turning west back down to Doudy Draw. The flora-rich forest gives way to open plains with expansive views in all directions. Return back down to Doudy Draw to close the lollipop loop.

There are a lot of options to explore this area of South Boulder. Going west explores the Springbrook Trail. Farther east, it takes you to the Greenbelt Plateau and the Marshall Mesa area mentioned above (this is a good point-to-point if you have two vehicles).

South Boulder Peak via Shadow Canyon

Best Hike to Reach the Highest Point in the Flatirons

â–ș The Shadow Canyon route begins on the plains and ends on a mountaintop. It’s incredible to pass through so many ecosystems along the way. Shadow Canyon isn’t just a good, sturdy hike. It’s also a great place to spot one of Boulder’s local black bears. The South Boulder – Bear combo from Shadow Canyon is an unbeatable duo that is premier Boulder hiking.Ìę

Trailhead Parking:
Distance: 8 miles out-and-back
Elevation Gain: 3,160 feet
Notes: $5 daily / $25 annual fee for non-Boulder residents. Dogs must be leashed or have Boulder’s Voice and Sight tags. Like Doudy Draw, do not park on the road if no spots are available. Summer weekends can be hard to get a parking spot, so get going early (7 A.M. or earlier). This will also help you beat afternoon thunderstorms.
Download: South Boulder Peak via Shadow Canyon GPX file

• Scrappy hike, mostly in shade, to the summit
• Reasonable to link up with Bear Peak
• Hike through a burn zone

There are legit mountain hikes in Boulder city proper, and South Boulder Peak (8,550 feet) is the highest of them all (though it’s not the highest point in Boulder County; that belongs to 14,259-foot Longs Peak). Even though it wears the elevation crown, the summit is only partially exposed as there are forested patches to the east and north of the highest point. Still, the views are great, but the hike up Shadow Canyon makes this route a classic.

The trail starts at the South Mesa Trailhead and passes an old homestead on the Mesa Trail before merging with the appropriately named Homestead Trail. The transition from the plains into the foothills is enchanting. You’re seeing the start of the Rocky Mountains themselves. The Homestead Trail ends at the Shadow Canyon Trail at 2.2 miles, where the real work begins. Push up through the also aptly named Shadow Canyon to a high saddle between South Boulder Peak and Bear Peak. En route to the top, you’ll pass through an eerie burn zone, the result of a lightning strike fire in June 2012.

The final trail to the top involves easy rock scrambling. Peak baggers can return to the saddle and make the short trek north 0.2 miles to Bear Peak, tag it, then return back to the saddle and down the Shadow Canyon.

Sage Trail

Best Quiet Hike in North Boulder

â–ș Even though it’s easy to access, the Sage Trail is often less crowded than the trails in South and Central Boulder. The network of trails is a wanderer’s dream. You can connect all the way to Left Hand Valley Reservoir, Boulder Reservoir, or even Mount Sanitas and beyond if you don’t mind crossing a few streets. As a simple hike, the Sage Trail is a peaceful, quiet retreat that truly feels like you’ve been transported to a much more remote place.Ìę

Trailhead Parking:
Distance: 2.8-mile loop
Elevation Gain: 254 feet
Notes: There are no fees to park at the Boulder Valley Ranch Trailhead. Dogs must be leashed or have Boulder’s Voice and Sight tags.
Download:ÌęSage Trail GPX file

• Wander through open farmland that feels far outside of the city
• Great for dogs and social hikes
• Good network of trails to easily add more miles

Much like Sawhill Ponds, the Sage Trail showcases the softer side of Boulder. This loop skirts Boulder Valley Ranch, a working ranch that is tucked below a mesa in north Boulder. As a result, the city disappears from view, and you are treated to open prairie views that belie the bustling city to the south.

By Boulder standards, this is a relatively flat trail, though it still gains 254 vertical feet thanks to a ramp on the east side of the trail. A small pond glistens in the sun on the east side of the trail. My preferred direction of travel is counterclockwise, following an irrigation ditch. Plenty of detours are available in the north Boulder network of trails, including a half-mile trek up to Mesa Reservoir to the west.

But if you stay on the main Sage Trail, you’ll have an easy and enjoyable 45-minute to 1-hour walk that tours the part of Boulder that begins to ease back into the open prairie. A quick glance at Gaia GPS or other mapping apps shows the layout of connected trails that go all the way from Wonderland Lake in town to Boulder Reservoir to the east.

Best Big All-Day Hikes in Boulder

Want to go for the gold? These combination hikes crank up the mileage and vert to give you a full day’s worth of adventure.Ìę

Guardians of the Flatirons: Green Mountain – Bear Peak – South Boulder Peak

Trailhead Parking:
Distance: 14.4-mile loop
Elevation Gain: 5,165 feet
Notes:Ìę $5 daily / $25 annual fee for non-Boulder residents. Dogs must be leashed or have Boulder’s Voice and Sight tags.
Download: Guardians of the Flatirons GPX file

This mega-mountain hike is an all-day affair. It tours the three summit peaks above the Flatiron rock formations, connecting them via a series of trails exploring the peaks’ less-seen western side. The route begins with the Green Mountain hike via Gregory Canyon. From there, follow the Green Canyon Northwest Ridge Trail to the Green Bear Trail (my favorite named trail in Boulder). Green Bear connects with the incredible Bear Peak West Ridge Trail, one of the most spectacular hiking routes in the Front Range. This trail leads into a burn zone, then up a series of switchbacks to Bear Peak’s exposed summit.

From there, hike over to South Boulder Peak via the South Boulder Peak Trail, then descend the Shadow Canyon Trail to the Mesa Trail, where a 5.4-mile walk of the Mesa Trail goes north below the Flatirons and back to the Gregory Canyon Trailhead.

Guardians of the Flatirons is a segment of the locally popular “Skyline Traverse.” The name is a bit of a misnomer because that particular route starts at Mount Sanitas, then drops back into town before ascending Flagstaff Mountain, then over to the Guardians trio. It spends a lot of time not along the skyline.

The Guardians of the Flatirons is actually more of a skyline traverse than the Skyline Traverse. The route stays as high as possible, never going below 7,000 feet from the time you top out on Green Mountain until you finish your summits and drop into Shadow Canyon.

It’s a big ol’ fun day and should not be underestimated. There is a bail-out point where the Bear Peak West Ridge Trail meets the Bear Canyon Trail. You can gain the Mesa Trail via Bear Canyon back to Gregory Canyon or exit to NCAR parking, a possible point-to-point warm-up if you want to sample the route before going all in.

Boulder Creek Path to Chapman Drive + Beyond

Start: Anywhere in downtown Boulder on the Boulder Creek Path (parking at Eben G. Fine used in this route: )
Distance: 11 miles and beyond
Elevation Gain: 2,112 feet
Notes: Dogs must be leashed or have Boulder’s Voice and Sight tags.
Download: Boulder Creek Path to Chapman Drive GPX file

This route is a bit of a different tour, as it starts on the paved Boulder Creek Path and cruises 3 miles up Boulder Canyon to Chapman Drive, a dirt road that was transformed into a hiking and biking trail. If you stay downtown, you can jump on the path anywhere it passes and head west. This route begins at the Eben G. Fine Park/Settler’s Park parking lot.

The Boulder Creek Path parallels the eponymous creek as it climbs into the canyon. The trail starts close to the road but then crosses under a bridge and isolates itself a bit from traffic. The rock climbing that makes Boulder Canyon famous can be seen along the way, with dramatic cliffs rising from the canyon floor. There’s a lot of decent people watching, too.

At about 3 miles up, the Boulder Creek Path terminates at the Chapman Drive Trailhead. This converted road climbs all the way to Realization Point on Flagstaff Road and can be used to access Green Mountain via the Green Mountain Lodge Road and the Ranger Trail. If you hoof it to Realization Point and back, you’ll have an 11-mile day that ends in downtown Boulder.

Best Dog Park – Hike Combos

As a bonus, I added these three dog park-hike combinations because Boulder is an excellent place to explore with your canine pals. I have loved sharing these places with my dogs, and I bet your pups will be equally as excited to check them out.

For off-leash fun, you’ll need Boulder’s Voice and Sight tags for the hiking portion of these outings. The fenced-in dog parks at Foothills Community Park and Davidson Mesa do not require tags for off-leash action. Dry Creek does require Voice and Sight tags at all times.

Foothills Community Park

Parking: Foothills Community Park, North Boulder;

All three of these hikes feature a fully fenced-in dog park where your pup can socialize as well as hiking trails for some one-on-one time with your doggo.

Foothills Community Park is a beautiful, spacious area in North Boulder where you can walk over to Wonderland Lake or simply wander the base of the foothills. If you have a fit pup (and it’s not too hot out), you can head all the way to the Sage Trail via the Foothills North Trail, a path that connects to the park and goes under Highway 36.

Dry Creek

Parking: Dry Creek Trailhead;

While Dry Creek is not technically a dog park, it is a fully-fenced Open Space area that is a defacto local dog park. There is a small creek for pups to splash around before opening up to a large, flat field offering a nice 1-mile loop.

The park has become more popular recently—weekends can get hectic. But the views of Baseline Reservoir and the Flatirons are quite fetching, and it’s a great place to let your dogs get their zoomies out. You’ll need Voice and Sight Tags if your dog is to be off-leash here. Be sure to visit the majestic cottonwood tree on the park’s western side, where many very good boys and girls have left their pawprints.

Davidson Mesa

Parking: Davidson Mesa Trailhead, Louisville, CO; . There is an overflow parking lot on Washington Avenue, across the street from the Davidson Mesa Trailhead. A tunnel runs under the road to safely walk to the dog park and trails.

Dogs must be on leash when not in the dog park, regardless of their Voice and Sight tags.

Technically, this one is in neighboring Louisville, but it’s still in Boulder County, so I’m going to count it. It’s nearly on the eastern border with Boulder (less than 2 miles away), but more importantly, it may very well be the most spectacular dog park in the country.

Davidson Mesa has awesome views of the Flatirons and the Indian Peaks beyond. I don’t use “awesome” lightly here; it’s an astounding piece of real estate with a fully fenced-in dog park. Sunsets from Davidson Mesa are postcard-worthy nearly every night.

Beyond the park, some nice, flat trails dink around on the mesa itself. A semi-hidden trail drops down to Davidson Ditch, a secret dunking spot for pups on warm days. The ditch does tend to run dry by the end of summer, though. The views are incredible wherever you roam, and it’s a great place to socialize your pup. As a bonus, most of the hiking trails are as wide as dirt roads, giving you plenty of room to separate dogs that might be less social.

Gear for Hiking in Boulder

For the more casual, flat hikes listed here, you may want nothing more than a water bottle and sunscreen. But mountain hikes are honest-to-goodness adventures that require an appropriate gear setup. This includes:

• At least two liters of water
• Light hiking shoes in spring/summer/autumn and full hiking boots in winter
• Hiking poles
• First-aid kit
• Snacks
• Layers
  • Light jacket or fleece for three-season hiking
  • Puffer and shell in winter
• Visor or sunhat in summer
• Sunscreen
• Sunglasses
• Maps/mapping apps
• Microspikes are a must in winter or in snowy conditions

Summer can get very hot in Boulder, even at high elevations. It’s not unusual to have days over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Generally, I tend to avoid hiking during the hottest part of the day (usually 1-4 P.M.). Bring extra hydration on days over 80 degrees.

Conversely, winter days can be bitterly cold, dropping well below zero. Even though Boulder has well-marked trails, every year, hikers get lost on snowy days when trails are obscured or get caught out after dark. Boulder’s mountain hikes are a blast in cold months, but please treat them with the respect they deserve.

Cell Reception in Boulder Mountain Areas

Boulder’s ridgelines and mountain tops have cell reception, but the canyons and gullies that lead up to them often do not. It’s a good idea to download maps for offline use before you head up, even if you’ll likely get back in data range wherever you hike.

Weather Tips and Other Advice for Hiking in Boulder

• Check the forecast before heading out. Some summers, thunderstorms hit almost daily, usually starting about 3 P.M.
• Boulder’s climate is generally temperate, though summer days can get extremely hot. It’s also not unusual to have bright sunny days in the 40s and 50s, even mid-January. Be aware that Boulder does get cold snaps where the temps stay pinned well below zero.
• Because Boulder has a dry climate, I don’t wear Gore-Tex lined shoes and generally prefer well-ventilated, light hikers. Since this is Boulder, you’ll see hikers in sandals and even the occasional barefoot walker (not advised unless you’re a fan of tetanus shots).
• Hiking poles are my secret weapon when it comes to healthy knees. Many Boulder mountain trails are steep, and descents are particularly good for poles.

A Note on Boulder Wildlife

Black bear sightings are common in Boulder; attacks on hikers are not. Black bears are generally shy or perhaps curious but rarely aggressive. Give them space if you see them, and if they happen to be plopped down on the trail, you may have to turn around. Bears with cubs should be treated cautiously, as moms can be protective.

Boulder does have resident mountain lions. As with black bears, encounters are rare, but unlike black bears, if a mountain lion does appear aggressive, make yourself look big. Shout, do not turn your back on them, stay calm (good luck with that), and slowly back off.

As a local with over 25 years of hiking in Boulder, moose are the only creatures I worry about encountering. Moose have become much more common in Boulder, starting around 2012. They are big, strong, and somewhat intellectually dull—it comes with the territory of being huge and having few predators in Colorado. They rarely have to outwit other critters. If I see moose, I do all I can to walk away quietly. I’ve missed out on hikes because a moose was on the trail, but it was the right call in every case.

Dog Regulations for Hiking in Boulder

Boulder has a tag program for dogs. This program allows well-behaved dogs to roam on designated trails off-leash. If you don’t have a Voice and Sight tag, your dog can only be off-leash in designated, fenced-in dog parks and be on leash everywhere else.

That said, there are a lot of dogs in Boulder, and conflicts arise from time to time. Be aware of your dog’s personality and keep them leashed if you are uncertain of their behavior, even if you have Voice and Sight tags. And please pick up after your pups—if people didn’t pick up their dogs’ poo, there would be enough to fill Folsom Field in no time.

Final Thoughts

While there are many, many more trails in Boulder, this collection highlights the best of the best. For the adventurous, here’s a clue to finding the best locals’ secrets: many of the top trails not mentioned in this mini-guide are connected to the routes listed here, so
 keep your eyes open and study those maps.

I’ve been fortunate to spend over two decades roaming in Boulder. From the plains to the mountains, the wilderness in my hometown never ceases to amaze me. Despite being part of a civilized city, parts of Boulder are still wild. There are many places, such as the Bear Peak West Ridge Trail and Sawhill Ponds, where the city itself seems half a world away. I love that.

I hope your hiking adventures in Boulder are just as fun and memorable as mine have been. Whether you are visiting or call Boulder home, the city’s commitment to world-class trails makes this place among the best hike-friendly places in the country.

Additional Resources

About the Author

I am the author of six and work as the SEO Director at șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű. If there is something better in the world than exploring the mountains with great friends and fine dogs, I haven’t found it. I’ve lived in Boulder for 25 years, where I hike on local trails on a daily basis—I even .Ìę

The post The Best Hikes in Boulder, Colorado appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

At bedtime last week, legendary American distance runner Melody Fairchild regaled her 7-year-old son Dakota with tales of the he plans to run this year.

One of the biggest road races in the world for the past several decades, the race sends 40,000 runners through the streets of Boulder, Colorado, on a point-to-point race that ends at the University of Colorado (CU) football stadium, full of cheering spectators and fellow runners.

“I told him it’s an amazing feeling to run into that stadium,” Fairchild says. “When you hit the field, the whole crowd is cheering for everybody. You feel like they’re cheering for you. He had this huge smile on his face.”

And if 50,000 people cheering isn’t enough, there’s also the famous slip-n-slide, numerous bands playing on the course, runners and spectators wearing outrageous costumes, and the military jet flyover by the Colorado Air National Guard you can feel in your bones. Named America’s All-Time Best 10K, it’s likely to be one of the biggest parties you’ll ever attend.

Fairchild recounted for Dakota her experience as the U.S. captain for the Bolder Boulder’s first International Team Challenge professional race in 1998.

“I remember looking out the window and seeing the stadium full. I was so nervous, I thought I was gonna vomit all over the floor,” she says. “When I walked out and they introduced me as the local hometown girl, the whole crowd roared.”

Fairchild ran her first Bolder Boulder at age eight. She went on to win the citizens’ race three times (1989, 1990, 1991) when she was a record-setting high schooler, became an All-American and NCAA champion at the University of Oregon, and then qualified for the U.S. Olympic Trials in the 10,000-meter run and marathon as a professional runner. But the Bolder Boulder has always held a special place in her heart, which is why she has continued to run it through the years and why she’s so eager to introduce Dakota to it.

How it Got Started

The idea for the Bolder Boulder germinated in the mind of a father watching his five children participate in all-day track meets. It was the summer of 1978 at the upswing of the original American running boom, and runner and local businessman Steve Bosley had grown frustrated with the disorganized events and parents berating their children for not running fast enough.

Bosley, then 37, reached out to his friend, Boulder resident and international running icon Frank Shorter, a two-time Olympic medalist in the marathon, for help designing a race that would serve their community and promote the sport of running. The race would not only become a Colorado icon, it set a gold standard for road races around the world and helped elevate women’s running in unprecedented ways.

RELATED: The Man Who Brought Running to Boulder

During the spring of 1979, Cliff Bosley, the current race director, went door to door with his Boy Scout troop, passing out posters to encourage neighbors to run his dad’s inaugural race. The poster announced a 4,000-participant cap and enticed Boulderites to “Run with Frank Shorter and Ric Rojas!” for a mere $6.50 entry fee. (Rojas was another local elite athlete who would go on to win the inaugural race in 1979. His daughter, Nell Rojas, a current professional runner, won the women’s citizen’s race 40 years later in 2019.)

Bosley recalls giving a man in his front yard a poster who threw it back in his face in disbelief. “‘Yeah right, 4,000!’ the man scoffed. “I was just a 12-year-old kid. You believe everything your parents tell you. I thought, ‘Dad says it could happen—why won’t it?!’”

The inaugural race saw 2,700 registrations. The next year, it doubled in size and live entertainment was added to the celebration. Participation continued to soar in the ensuing years and decades, eventually reaching 50,421 in 2010. With an average of 45,000 finishers over the past 10 years, it’s now the seventh-largest road race in the nation and the largest Memorial Day celebration in the U.S.

Pioneering Prize Money

From its inception, the Bolder Boulder 10K offered equal prize money for the female and male winners. In 1984, it created a separate elite race from the citizens’ race. There was also a deliberate split in the women’s and men’s elite race so that both races could be showcased equally and covered live on the local TV broadcast. Today, it offers one of the largest non-marathon prize purses in the U.S., but this did not come without a lot of work.

Initially road races were precluded from paying prize money to athletes because it changed their amateur athlete status, preventing them from competing in the Olympics. In the early 1980s, Steve Bosley, then the president of the Bank of Boulder, worked with two local attorneys, Frank Shorter, and TAC (The Athletics Congress which was then the name of the national governing body for the sport; now it’s known as USATF), to create a mechanism using trust accounts for athletes to earn prize money. It was then paid into athletes’ individual trust accounts so they could draw living and training expenses. At the time these accounts were called TACTRUST Accounts, and the Bank of Boulder was the steward of 95 percent of all of these accounts on behalf of both American and international athletes from around the world.

Promoting Women’s Running

One of the most circulated photos of the Bolder Boulder 10K is that of Shorter, the 1972 Olympic marathon champion, winning the 1981 race— the first time the race finished in the University of Colorado’s Folsom Stadium. But that same year, Ellen Hart, then 23, won the women’s race—although she says there was no finish line tape for the female winner.

“It was the most exciting thing I had ever seen,” she recalls. “Since I was a little girl, I had wanted to go to the Olympics. I thought, Oh my god. This is like the Olympics! I traveled to races all over the world and the BB was my favorite race.”

Hart would move to Boulder in 1982, and then win the race again in 1983 before the four-year reign of Portugal Olympian Rosa Mota. In many ways, Hart says, her success in the Bolder Boulder launched her career as a professional athlete.

She went on to place 11th at the inaugural women’s U.S. Olympic Trials Marathon in 1984, set an American record in the 30K, and won 18 world championship titles in triathlon and duathlon racing. “In terms of women’s sports, the Bolder Boulder was certainly more forward-thinking than any other race I ever attended,” Hart says.

The race organization was also ahead of its time when it began the Women’s High Altitude Training Camp, something it did not offer for men, in 1989. The 100-day program was designed to bring five talented post-collegiate female runners to Boulder to train prior to racing Bolder Boulder. Runners were placed in volunteer host families, provided an elite coordinator and a trail guide, and given access to a local gym and the university’s track to train.

New Jersey runner Inge Schuurmans McClory was a member of the 1990 team.

“I really didn’t feel worthy of national attention, but I applied for the program not even thinking I was going to get in,” she says. She was not only accepted, but she fell in love with Boulder and stayed.

“I went to graduate school here. I met my husband here. I coached cross country and track at CU. It sort of was the launching pad for the rest of my life, and I owe it to the Bolder Boulder and that high-altitude training camp,” says McClory, now a physician’s assistant who has trained cardiac patients—the Brave Hearts—for the Bolder Boulder since 2000.

Since 1996, there have consistently been more women (average 53-54 percent) than men completing the race. Cliff Bosley attributes this to his mom creating a walking division in 1984 so that her father, diagnosed with prostate cancer, could participate.

“We kind of look at it as a placeholder,” says Bosley, “You come in as a walker and now you’re on the continuum. Let’s help you become a jogger. Let’s help you become a racer.” This exemplifies the Bolder Boulder’s rallying cry, “Oh Yes You Can!” that it established in 1979.

Building Community Through Running

The Bolder Boulder has always been defined by its strong community involvement, which includes an eager network of volunteers, aid stations staffed by local running groups, and the thousands of spectators who line the streets and fill the stadium. Historically, the race donates more than $100,000 to local nonprofits and community groups that volunteer. Even during the pandemic, the race still found a way to contribute.

“Knowing we could not stage the Bolder Boulder in-person, we created a virtual event called the VirtuALL 10K and offered it at no cost,” Bosley says. Thousands of T-shirts, designed for the 2020 race that went unused, were donated to shelters.

Another Bolder Boulder program that supports the community is the BB Racers Club. Created in 1996, the program prepares children for the race, so their experience is a positive one. Initially started as a middle school program, this club now includes elementary schools. Children who are signed up are given a special training program, coach, and starting wave. Fairchild’s Boulder Mountain Warriors club, of which her son Dakota is a participant, is training a large number of BB Racers this year.

Bosley is prepared for up to 45,000 participants at this year’s race on May 29. And just as they did 44 years ago, race organizers will serve participants a sack lunch and send them a postcard in the mail with their finishing place, pace, time, and ranking in their age group.

“I can still remember checking the mailbox every single day until it came,” says Fairchild. “It makes me emotional just thinking about how much attention to detail they’ve always given hundreds of thousands of people. They care so much. It’s not an accident that they are the best 10K in the world.”

The post How the Bolder Boulder 10K Became One of the World’s Most Cherished Road Races appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

Running is the heartbeat of Boulder — one of the three hallmark recreational activities of our community (along with cycling and hiking, of course).

Together, we run the streets & trails of Boulder, and serve as one of the great training grounds for Olympians, world-class athletes, and leisure runners alike. We are so grateful & proud to have the world’s best 10k — but despite running being hardwired into Boulder’s DNA — we have no signature city marathon.

This was the question we asked everyone — and we couldn’t find out why.

In one of the great health meccas of the U.S., rated one of the healthiest, happiest cities in the country, we couldn’t find a premier long-distance marathon.

After years in the making and the opportunity to acquire a 19-year-old race series, the Boulder Backroads Marathon & Half Marathon, we knew the time was now. As residents of Boulder County and local business owners, our goal from day 1 has been to create an inspiring, community-driven marathon series to serve as the premier fall race in the state. We decided to create the epic, downtown marathon race the beautiful city and community of Boulder deserves.

was born.

The Race

Experience the only course to combine scenic views of the foothills and the first-ever finish line on the bricks of the iconic Pearl Street Mall.

• The race begins at the Boulder Reservoir and provides sweeping views of the Flatirons before an exciting finish for the first & only finish on the bricks of Pearl Street mall.
• Spectators can enjoy the race from family friendly, popular local establishments.
• Despite the city’s high altitude, the race is fairly flat overall making it a great event for beginning marathoners and elite athletes alike who are looking to challenge themselves.
• The race is a qualifier for the Boston Marathon.

The Place

Race in one of the happiest cities in the U.S. – a mecca where wellness, outdoor and health enthusiasts unite under nearly 300 days of sunshine a year.

• Race where Olympians train in an authentic and approachable community. Experience racing in one of the top running communities in the U.S.
• The signature city marathon Boulder deserves! This is Boulder’s first-ever premier marathon race series.
• It’s about more than the race. Boulder is a destination town like no other with access to the Rocky Mountains, and a community of laid-back outdoor enthusiasts and passionate wellness advocates.

The Memories

An experience you’ll never forget – and history won’t either. Run an inaugural race in an unforgettable place.

• Run Boulder’s premier marathon and reserve your place in history – limited space available for our second year
• 95 percent of runners recommend Boulderthon to their friends, with the #1 reason being Downtown Finish & Course Views

The Reviews

“Spectacular” – Denver Post

“Epic” – 13point1

“Quintessentially Boulder
 striking views
 finishes on the bricks of the Pearl St Mall” – 5280

“Best Colorado Races” – The Know

2022 Boulderthon

The post Run the Signature Boulder Marathon appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

To walk into Boulder, Colorado’s Neptune Mountaineering—one of the nation’s most storied outdoor gear shops—is to step simultaneously into the past and the future. Founded in 1973 by accomplished climber Gary Neptune, the store is a monument to mountaineering, with a vast collection of historic artifacts on display beside shelves of new gear. It’s a museum, a state-of-the-art retail space, and a community gathering hub all in one.

It’s also lucky to be around. Like many retailers, Neptune Mountaineering has struggled with profit margins and the bottom line over the years. It dodged a few close calls, changing hands and even surviving bankruptcy, but somehow, the store has managed to do more than hang on. It’s become an icon in both the community and the outdoor industry at large.

In September 2021, the business traded hands for the fourth time in its five-decade history. With a new chapter beginning for Neptune, there’s no better time to look back at the wild ride the shop has navigated to get where it is today.

A Wing, a Prayer, and a Barefooted Businessman

The first thing anyone needs to know about Gary Neptune is that back when he founded his shop, he preferred to be barefoot as much as possible. In his younger years, the now 74-year-old mountaineer was the kind of guy who challenged himself by using minimal equipment on his climbing adventures—or none at all. Neptune’s climbing rĂ©sumĂ©, by any measure, is stacked. He’s stood on the summits of Everest, Makalu, and Gasherbrum II, as well as countless other peaks in the Himalaya, Andes, and the American West.

This is important to understand because it tells you something about the early character of Neptune Mountaineering. Initially, the retailer was nothing more than a small boot- and climbing shoe- repair operation—more a place for Neptune and his friends to tinker thanÌęanything else. The shop’s main clientele consisted of other elite climbers in the area.

Read more:

“I started the shop because there was another guy in town who repaired boots and sold a little climbing gear,” Neptune says. “But he was incredibly slow. It would pretty much take him all summer to fix your boots. A friend of mine convinced me that if we could buy some machinery, it would be a nice little niche [for us]. I liked handyman things, so I did it.”

The whole store, including the machinery Neptune needed to get started, cost about $14,000, he says. For years, the shop didn’t even have a cash register, and saw little return on Neptune’s initial investment. “We squeaked through for a number of years with a gross curve that was so flat you couldn’t tell if it was up or down,” he says.

Neptune discovered the hard way that growing a business for mountaineers meant giving up some of that mountaineering himself. One saving grace: The store’s location on the Front Range meant that he could at least climb locally on a daily basis. “That was why I located the store in Boulder and didn’t move away,” he says.

Neptune Mountaineering Hits Its Stride

After a full decade of barely making it, things finally started to pick up around 1983. This happened largely because, by then, the store had made a name for itself in the community. Talk to any climber who lived in Boulder during that time, and you’ll likely hear a Neptune Mountaineering story.

Part of that name-making involved inviting climbers and adventurers to the store to expound on their lives, work, and travels—a common practice now, but groundbreaking for a retail shop half a century ago. The events were a huge hit with customers. “Gary was always thinking about the bigger picture of the community rather than filling the cash register,” says Rick Hatfield, a ranger at Boulder Open Space and Mountain Parks, who often gave talks at the shop about nesting raptors and how the climbing community could help protect them. “In working with Gary, we all realized the value in collaborative efforts. Neptune has always been more than just a store.”

It was during this time that Neptune also started building out his collection of climbing and mountaineering artifacts, an effort that would eventually become the store’s renowned Neptune Museum.

Like so much else at the shop, the museum was a community effort. Though Neptune collected many of the pieces himself—including, famously, the disembodied, frostbitten toe of his friend and fellow climber Malcolm Daly—many items were donated from fans in Boulder and others around the world. (Today, you can trace the evolution of outdoor adventure equipment as you walk through the 17,000-square- foot store. Although Neptune eventually sold the shop in 2013, he never let go of the museum, which he still owns and curates.) The museum helped the store become a true destination for adventurers embedded in Boulder’s outdoor community. Even if a customer was just stopping to drop off skis for a tune-up, it was easy to linger, wandering around and marveling at the artifacts.

Neptune watched other stores in the area come and go over these years. Specialty shops that couldn’t harness Neptune’s magic cropped up here and there, lasted for a while, and then closed down. REI and other national outlets came to town as well. Through it all, Neptune kept a calm head and stuck to what he knew—offering expert advice and goods for serious mountaineers, and building community.

“I’m not afraid of competition,” Neptune says. “I like competition as long as people are trying to be better in their own way. What I really don’t like is the race for the bottom—cheaper, cheaper, cheaper. That’s not good for anyone.”

Disaster Comes Knocking

Once Neptune hit its stride, there was little competitors could do to diminish its power in the Boulder community. The store moved several times, eventually landing at its current home—an expansive building tucked into a strip mall on the south side of town—in 1993. The space expanded with each move, as did the product mix. What once had been a shop for only the most serious mountaineers became more welcoming of newcomers and more accessible to first-time outdoorspeople.

Neptune’s career fell into place, and after 40 years of running the show, he found himself ready to retire. In 2013, Neptune sold the business to Backwoods Retail, a Texas-based operation that, at the time, ran 10 specialty shops. Everything seemed in order; Neptune felt good about the future of his store and legacy.

Read more:

But all was not peaceful and prosperous for long. According to Neptune, soon after the sale to Backwoods, communication became nearly impossible with the new owners.

Sales dropped off. The community feel of the store began to evaporate. Just a few years after the sale, Neptune Mountaineering was in serious trouble. By 2016, Backwoods owed nearly $70,000 in back rent on the store’s lease and far more to suppliers. The business filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy reorganization. Many in the community thought their beloved shop was about to disappear forever.

Back from the Brink

If it weren’t for Shelley and Andrew Dunbar, the business would almost certainly be nothing more than a memory today.

The Dunbars, Boulder locals who had made a name (and a formidable living) for themselves in the outdoor industry by distributing Australia-based Sea to Summit’s products in the U.S., were longtime patrons of Neptune Mountaineering. Unwilling to see their community shop die, they swooped in and bought the business out of bankruptcy in 2017. They invested more than $1 million to renovate the space, opening it up, adding lots of light, and installing cool features like a climbing wall.

The shop needed a Hail Mary to save it. No idea was too bold. “Our personal motto was that you need to be a fearless retailer,” Shelley says. “That means you can’t be afraid to try new things. But it’s hard. Most retailers tend to take the safe path.”

The Dunbars were willing to take the kinds of risks that paid off. “[Customers] want to see evolution,” Shelley says. “They need to get excited about things and discover things. We fell on our faces a couple of times betting on products that didn’t sell, but people came back to us because things were different. It’s not like you have to try ideas that go against your brand and your ethos. But taking a few chances is good.”

One of the most important changes the Dunbars made was to the product mix. “We launched what we called the Neptune Lab,” Shelley says. “We found brands and products that were crowdfunded, mainly products that had been funded by Kickstarter. The reason that people use something like Kickstarter is because they can’t get into a retailer; they can’t get exposure.” The Dunbars were ready to take a chance on exactly those products. Some flopped, but some absolutely killed. “One example of a new category we tried was packrafting,” Shelley says. “We brought in a line of packrafts called Alpacka—a small Colorado company—and they were wildly successful.” The new products helped convince the Boulder community that Neptune Mountaineering was once again a place of forward-thinking expertise.

The Dunbars understood instinctively what Backwoods hadn’t: that Neptune couldn’t survive without the deep community feel that had characterized its earliest days. That understanding led to the launch of Neptune’s cafĂ©, which provided a place for locals to gather and get reacquainted with the store they thought they’d lost.

Within a few years, Neptune Mountaineering had been rescued from the brink. “It was a lot of fun bringing Neptune back,” Shelley says. “We’re very proud of what we were able to do.”

The Story of Neptune Mountaineering Continues

The Dunbars will be the first to tell you that they never intended to run Neptune forever. Theirs was a rescue mission; the next chapter of leadership always belonged to someone else.

It took them a while to discover exactly who that person would be. In September 2021, after more than a year of entertaining offers, the Dunbars sold the business to Maile Spung and her father, Bob Wade, owners of another legacy retailer, Ute Mountaineer in Aspen.

Like the Dunbars, Spung and Wade are a family with deep ties to outdoor retail. Wade founded Ute Mountaineer in 1977, just four years after the launch of Neptune. The two shops grew up alongside each other, and in some ways it’s fitting they’re now playing for the same team.

Read more:

“Neptune has always had this sentimental place in people’s hearts in the outdoor industry,” Spung says. “There’s a feeling of responsibility to the Boulder community to make sure the shop they know and love continues to run the way they want it to.”

For this reason, Spung is determined to maintain close ties to Gary Neptune, the business’s true beating heart. “Gary’s excited to bring some new pieces to the museum—a dogsled, some old backpacks and Nordic boots—and we want to focus on helping him keep that history alive,” Spung says.

As for Neptune himself, he feels this changing of the guard is a step in the right direction. “Maile grew up doing this, and for some reason she enjoys it,” he says, laughing. “She knows how to do pretty much everything. I think she’s a little bit like me in that she doesn’t have her nose in a computer all the time, although I’m sure she’s better at all of that stuff than I am.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye as he muses on the continuation of his life’s work. Any true adventurer would recognize it: the thrill, the challenge, the promise of unexplored territory. Neptune Mountaineering has wended its way through some tricky and beautiful terrain over the last 50 years, but the journey seems far from over. The best may be yet to come.

This story first appeared in the Winter 2022 issue of our print magazine under the headline “Neptune’s Wild Ride.”

The post Boulder’s Neptune Mountaineering Is About to Turn 50. We’re Lucky to Still Have It. appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

At the start of his freshman year at St. Lawrence University in upstate New York, Mike Chambers was hanging out with his roommate when their dorm-room door flew open without warning and the five-foot-ten, 265-pound captain of the football team burst inside. Chambers’s roommate was a new recruit, and this stern-faced defensive end was making sure he was behaving. As quickly as he’d barged in, he was gone again.Ìę

“WłóŽÇ was that?” asked Chambers, who was sandy haired and lean in contrast. “There’s no way he is a student.”

That was the first time Chambers met Jason Antin.Ìę

Nearly two decades later, Chambers, 35, and Antin, 38, are an adventure power duo inspiring nine-to-fivers to make better use of their leisure time. When the two men aren’t at their full-time jobs or parenting young children, they’re traipsing across the globe in the 64-hour window between 5 P.M. Friday and 9 A.M. Monday. They’ve made their epic weekend missions into a TV series called , the second season of which . (șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű TV and șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online were recently acquired by the same company, now called șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Inc.) The show is designed to push viewers to reimagine how they can fit adventure into their lives, be it with daily exercise or an ambitious international trip. “We want to try and dispel the notion of not having enough time,” Chambers says.

Beat Monday has featured straightforward weekend efforts, like Burro Days, in Leadville, Colorado, a 22-mile run up to 13,186 feet elevation while attached to a donkey, just a two-hour drive from their homes. (Chambers and Antin finished dead last.) It’s also chronicled extreme objectives, like an attempt of Ecuador’s Cotopaxi volcano. Guiding companies typically book clients on nine-day trips to tackle the heavily glaciated 19,348-foot peak; Chambers and Antin, meanwhile, had less than three days for their abbreviated expedition—not to mention factoring in travel to and from South America. (They didn’t summit, due to weather, but it’s “totally doable in a weekend,” says Antin.) Season two will feature big-wall climbing in Zion National Park, winter bikepacking in the Utah desert, and a foot-to-mountain-bike-to-SUP adventure in Maui.

How did they end up doing huge objectives like this together? During college, as Chambers was working toward a degree in government and Antin was finishing his sociology and pychology major, the pair continued to run into each other at parties, and they kept in touch after Antin graduated in 2006. Their first entrĂ©e into weekend warrioring was in 2010 in New England; both Antin and Chambers grew up in Boston and were living there once again. Antin had shed his football persona for an outdoorsy one since graduation and invited Chambers on a run. Chambers, done with the party scene and intrigued by the Antin’s new pursuits, accepted. The route was the 30-mile in New Hampshire, which involves tagging the summits of four 4,000-foot peaks. “We read an article—it was like ‘The Top Five Hardest Day Hikes’—and we were like, All right, we’re going to go nail this,” says Antin.

Halfway through the run, during a break at a hut, Chambers found himself sitting on a toilet nearly in tears. They finished the run, but it pushed them to their limits and proved to be an eye-opening experience. “It was so hard. I never thought I’d be capable of doing something like that,” says Chambers. “After that, I was so fired up to explore this world.” It was a springboard for both of them.

Later that year, Antin quit his finance job and moved to Colorado to be closer to the wild spaces he loved. Chambers stayed in Massachusetts, where he was working for an education nonprofit, but the two kept in contact. Since the toilet tears, they’d each gone all in on the outdoors. They got into ultrarunning—both have since completed 200-mile races—and were geeking out on gear and training. Chambers became obsessed with high-altitude mountaineering, climbing peaks like Kilimanjaro, Aconcagua, and Denali. Antin worked part-time as guide and ticked off his own personal objectives, including, in 2018, , which involves going up and over Washington’s Mount Rainier twice, then running the full Wonderland Trail.Ìę

But over the next few years, work picked up. By 2016, it’d been a while since they’d tackled something ambitious together. “That was kind of eating at me,” says Chambers. He called Antin, and they began to make a list of dream objectives, zeroing in on the first one: climbing and skiing 14,411-foot Mount Rainier, the Northwest’s crown jewel, in a weekend. At the time, neither of them had climbed it before. It would be a first attempt at the kind of steroid-injected weekend-warrior missions they’re now known for.

After work on a Friday in early June 2016, they flew to Seattle—Antin from Colorado and Chambers from Massachusetts—and got a ride to the trailhead. The next morning, it took an hour to convince the rangers to issue them a permit; they were skeptical of these “Colorado cowboys” who’d never been on the mountain.Ìę

At 9 P.M. Saturday, they started up the crevassed slopes of the Emmons Glacier. The creaking sounds of ice calving and shifting in the darkness drove home the seriousness of their endeavor. After a 10,000-foot climb to the summit, they were rewarded with a rare bluebird day and perfect spring corn for the ski down on Sunday. Chambers took the red-eye back to Boston, arriving just in time for a 9:30 A.M. meeting. He hadn’t had time to shower.Ìę

Squeezing an epic adventure into a single weekend had worked, and Beat Monday was born. Men’s Journal , and a production company signed on to work with Chambers and Antin to makeÌęit into a show. The first episode aired in September of 2018: it followed Chambers and Antin as they climbed and skied Oregon’s Mount Hood and then ran the 41-mile Timberline Trail, which circumnavigates the mountain.Ìę

That same year, Chambers, who by then was married and had a kid, moved to Colorado with his family. He and Antin began upping the ante with back-to-back weekends. “It was totally unsustainable,” says Chambers. They climbed Denali in Alaska one weekend, skied California’s Mount Whitney and Mount Shasta the next, then flew to Ecuador the weekend after that. The show started to attract a devoted following. They’ve now filmed 11 episodes in two countries and seven states. Another three episodes will round out season two.Ìę

Each show feels like a mini documentary, detailing just how they pulled off that weekend’s mission and offering viewers a rough blueprint for doing it themselves. (In fact, many fans have repeated their exact objectives after watching an episode.) There’s no need to manufacture drama, because the tension is baked in: Will they accomplish what they set out to do in the allotted time?Ìę

The cinematography is easy on the eyes—think soaring drone footage over wild landscapes—but the show isn’t overproduced. It oscillates between matter-of-fact narration and shotsÌęof the men’s playful, brotherly dynamic, like when Antin spills a liter of coffee in Chambers’s front seat and pretends it’s water. It’s clear they’ve forged a strong bond over the years as mountain partners and settled into their roles in the relationship: Antin is the spreadsheet guy, Chambers is the dreamer. “Mike has stoke and ideas, and I try to harness them and put them into perspective,” says Antin.Ìę

Both men have heard from dozens of folks who’ve been motivated to pursue an objective after watching the show. And while not everyone has the resources to do trips of the scale that Antin and Chambers take on, they point out that most of us could squeeze in a 30-minute walk or hike during the workday or come up with a fun adventure close to home. “We get into these routines and habits where we don’t necessarily take advantage of the time we do have. I’ve been there, and I think Jason has, too,” says Chambers, who is now the CEO of aÌętech startup.Ìę

While it might seem like the pair are constantly away from their families (they get comments to that effect), that’s not really the case. Most weekends they’re home with their wives and young children. Chambers now has a one-year-old daughter, a three-year-old son, and a baby on the way, while Antin has two daughters, ages four and one. The two familiesÌęjoined up to go climbing together at Eldorado Canyon near Boulder, Colorado, shortly after finishing their interview with șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű.

Antin currently works as a guide for the Colorado Mountain School, and he coaches at the Alpine Training Center in Boulder. The big novel pursuits are exciting, but he says it’s about more than just the objective for him. “When we did Shasta and Whitney, we had a literal vanload of some of our best friends. And then my family met me at the end,” he says. “It’s the partnership of the people I’m with. That’s what I remember first.”

Watch new episodes of Beat Monday starting 5/20 and on the free șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű TV app. Also streaming Thursdays at 10 p.m. EST on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű TV+ (available in the șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű TV App), the Roku Channel, Samsung TVPlus, Vizio, Xumo, and more.

The post ‘Beat Monday’ Rethinks What You Can Fit into a Weekend appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

The log on my son Hatcher’s phone says he tried my number eight times on the afternoon of March 15, yet the calls never came through. As I found out later, he’d suffered a head injury while skiing at Colorado’sÌęEldora Mountain Resort, was completely confused and disoriented, and was trying to reach me.ÌęThe calls that didn’t connect were probably made from somewhere on the mountain. He didn’t get a good signal until he reached the parking lot.

Three of us—my husband, Shawn, our nine-year-old daughter, Hollis, and I—had been skiing at Eldora earlier in the day, and we were driving home. Hatcher, 18, had come up later than we did;Ìęto my surprise, he’d texted me saying that he’d gotten over the upset stomach that had kept him home when we left, that he’d scored one of the parking passes the resort required because of COVID-19, and that he’d “probably see you soon!”

“I’m so glad!” I texted back, but I actually was hoping he’d ditch his family and hook up with friends. It had been a bad year for Hatcher—a combination of pandemic disruptions and losses in our family—and he was overdue for some fun.

The log shows that after the eight attempts, he tried texting. But I was driving, so I missed those as well. Finally, he called Shawn, and when they connected, what we heard was terrifying.

Hatcher was dissociating, on the verge of tears, and he had no idea what he was doing. He kept asking us how he’d gotten where he was and why he was there. He said he could see the car—the one we were in, about sevenÌęmiles away from him—parked in the lot. He announced that he was going to walk over, start it up, and drive home.

With fear in his voice, Shawn said, “No, Hatcher, we have the car. We’re driving it. And we’ll come get you.” Hatcher repeated the same nonsensical plan, and we knew something was very wrong. We did a U-turn as soon as we could and floored it back to Eldora. We kept Hatcher on the line and reached a longtime family friend who runs the Eldora Nordic Center, which is perched low on the mountain’s eastÌęside, and where I’ve worked as a part-time Nordic instructor for several years. We asked her to run out, grab Hatcher, and bring him indoors. That helped ease our immediate panic, but we still had no idea what had happened to our son.

During the 15-minute drive back to Eldora, we discussed possibilities. Teens are teens, we live in Boulder County, and weed is legal—could Hatcher have gotten intoÌęa bad strain? Or was he suddenly having a psychotic episode? Not impossible, given that there’s some mental illness in the family tree. Oddly, the one thing that didn’t occur to us was that he’d hit his head.

We should have thought of that immediately. Where we live, concussions are very common. The kids start ski and mountain-bike racing in grade school. By high school, these young athletes are intimate with taking risks, and kids in many families we know have suffered concussions.ÌęAccording to the Micheli Center, head injuries account for up to 20 percent of the 600,000 annual skiing and snowboarding injuries in the United States (for children that figure is 22 percent), and 22 to 42Ìępercent of all ski-related head injuries are severe enough to result in either loss of consciousness or clinical signs of concussion. But we’d been lucky—neither Hatcher nor our oldest son, Scout, had ever had one.

Arriving at Eldora, we ran to the Nordic Center and found Hatcher. He was visibly unscathed; even his helmet was free of scratches. But my middle kid, who likes to explore complicated topics like existentialism and the histories of both World Wars, couldn’t remember his sister’s age—“She’s seven and in fourth grade”—or his height and weight—“I’m five foot two, 185 pounds”—or why his family was staring at him with frightened faces. Well, maybe because he was wrong about Hollis’s age and he’s five foot sixÌęand weighs 130. He also thought Trump was still president.

Fortunately, ski-patrol personnel showed up soon after we arrived. They put a neck brace on him, loaded him into a sled, snowmobiled him across the base of the mountain, and unpacked him at their headquarters.

From the outside, HatcherÌęlooked fine—minus his worried expression. Then hisÌęquestions began:ÌęWhat day is it? What happened? Where am I? Why do I have this neck brace on? Patrol determined that he’d sustained a concussion; they didn’t know how, and we still don’t, but one possibility was that he was hitting jumps in the terrain park, biffedÌęa landing, and smacked his head on solid snow.ÌęAfter an hour in the patrol room, he started to seem better, so a paramedic (assisted by a doctor reached by phone) decided it was OK for us to drive him toÌęan emergency room 50 minutes away in Boulder, rather than wait for an ambulance.

Soon we were in the waiting room, with people staring because, as Shawn said, Hatcher seemed punch-drunk.ÌęHatcher said he needed to use the restroom, so Shawn guided him to it. When he finished, Shawn needed to go, so he told Hatcher to return to the chair he’d been sitting in. But when Shawn came out, he found Hatcher wandering around aimlessly. When Hatcher saw him, he said, “Dad! Why are you łó±đ°ù±đ?”

Later, sitting inside a private room, Hatcher and I were waiting to hear the results of his CAT scan when his behavior started to get weirder. Dressed in an exam gown and lying in a hospital bed, he would lift his arm every 40 seconds or so, look at his watch, and ask, “Is today Monday? Do I work? Did I blow it off?”

“Yes, it’s Monday,” I’d say. “No, you don’t work, and no, you didn’t blow off your boss.”

Then, looking at his gown and pinching a bit of the fabric, he’d ask, “What’s this?” Later, when we finally left his room to head through the lobby, he shook his head and said, “WłóŽÇa! I’m in the emergency room?”

It was all so bizarre. But what really got me was when he tried to piece together how he’d ended up at the hospital.

“So patrol found me and called you?” he said.

“No, you called us, and we came to you.”

“Oh, man. I’m so sorry you had to do that.”

“Don’t worry about it, Hatch. It was no problem. We love you.”Ìę

“Well, thank you guys for rescuing me. I couldn’t have done it on my own.”Ìę

And that’s when I came within a forced smile of crying. Because what really happened was that Hatcher—with his rattled brain—rescued himself.

It appears (though we’ll never know) that no one saw him crash, hit his head, lose consciousness, or struggle back up. No one noticed a dazed kid moving from wherever he fell to the Nordic Center parking lot. And no one heard the fear in his voice as he called and recalled his parents.

I got stuck on the sadness of this for a few days, and then I decided to try and understandÌęit better. While Hatcher recovered on the couch—doctor’s orders for him were to chill out and not move much or do much—I called the neurology department at the University of Colorado’s Anschutz Medical Campus in Aurora. Dr. Christopher M. Filley, the department’s director of behavioral neurology, helped me grasp what might have happened.

“From what you told me, your son did not appear to be sufficiently injured to prompt someone on the slope to stop and see how he was doing,” he said. “Because it seems no observer can provide any information about the event, and because he does not remember what happened, it cannot be determined with certainty what actually took place. I emphasize that I defer to his doctor with respect to the diagnosis and treatment of this young man. But if I were to speculate, it is plausible that your son could have hit his head, sustained a concussion, and then been in an acute confusional state,Ìęmeaning that he was awake but not fully lucid. A person in this condition could conceivably get down the mountain and call for help, because the brain will sometimes fall back on relatively automatic behaviors—what it knows to do well from repeated past experiences.”

A doctor in the ER had called Hatcher’s repeated questioning perseveration,Ìęwhich can be caused by damage to the frontal cortex, the region of the brain that controls a person’s self-awareness and inhibition. Without such control, someone who perseverates finds it difficult to stop a particular action and switch to another.Ìę

Filley described what was probably going on inside Hatcher’s head.

“The brain consists of about three pounds of soft, gelatinous tissue inside the skull,” he said. “It floats in cerebrospinal fluid to help protect it from injury, but when the head is subjected to a blow or jolt, the brain can still be damaged.” With traumatic brain injuries, including concussions, the damage typically occurs deep in the brain, where the connections between neurons are stretched, and this may have been what happened to Hatcher. In some people, Filley explained, the brain surface is also damaged, because the brain is thrust against the bones on the inside of the skull.

According to Hatcher’s CAT scan, he sustained no bleeding or bruising, only a concussion, perhaps because he had a helmet on. Head injuries from skiing or other impact sports can be much worse. A friend suffered a severe concussion after hitting a tree while skiing, andÌęthe resulting injury caused such intense vertigo that, for a long time, he could only walk down a hallway with his head sliding against the wall. And after the last of multiple concussions, another friend’s son had to sit in a room with double-blackout blinds for a month to avoid crushing migraines. “He still struggles, had some lasting cognitive deficits, and has to take daily medication that causes weight loss, so he can’t gain weight,”Ìęhis momÌęsays. “It changed his whole identity.ÌęHe went from identifying as an honors student and athlete to a struggling student with a brain injury and no longer an athlete.” The good news is that he recently went on a two-week skiing road trip with another of Hatcher’s friendsÌęand sent his mom videos of himself skiing powder and loving life. “He’ll be OK,”Ìęshe says, “but that journey is rough.”

As for Hatcher, after 24 hours, heÌęstopped perseverating, although he still can’t remember anything from two days prior to his injury, only flashes from the day it happenedÌęand not much from the day after.

On doctor’s orders, for two weeks he had to lay low, avoid mental stimuli (screens and books), and make sure he didn’t do anything that could cause him to fall and sustain a second brain injury. If this happens while a person is still symptomatic, it can result in “second impact syndrome,” which can cause death. So we’re urging Hatcher to use extra caution even after his full recovery time is complete.

What I’m happy to report now is that Hatcher is up and about, as seemingly healthy as ever. Some friends have warned that new symptoms can emerge weeks after the original injury. I’m crossing my fingers and watching him closely. And I’m endlessly grateful that when he crashed he was wearing his helmet. But we’ve also had some long conversations about the importance of doing any outdoor activity with a friend. If Hatcher had, there would have been an account of his injury, and I wouldn’t still be lying awake at night, imagining the worst-case scenario.

The post My Son Fell While Skiing. Then His Mind Went Blank. appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

Spring arrivedÌęlast month, and we—along with the rest of the Northern Hemisphere’s population—are feeling extra thankful this year for the beginning of the warm season. șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű editors started getting out more in March, camping, road-tripping, and skiing. Here’s what we used to make it happen.

Drifted Canyon Ripstop Pants ($108)

I’ve been gardening, hiking, and camping in theseÌę fromÌę for about a month. The new company’s founder, Puja Seth, polled hundreds of women in the outdoors on what they were looking for in their gear;Ìęfit, quality, and sustainability all stood out in theÌęanswers. Using that feedback, she launched the brandÌęin January, and now it sells about ten different shirts, shorts, and pants.ÌęThe Canyon Ripstop, which I’m testing, isÌęlightweightÌębut durable, thanks to the 100 percent polyester thatÌęI’ve never snagged on rocks or branches. With two deep front pockets—one with a bungee cord sewn in that I hook my keys to—and two zippered pockets in the back, there are plenty of places to stash lip balm, your phone, and even snacks. I have the cream color, which makes me a little nervous, but so far dirt and grass stains have washed away. Time will tell if thisÌęholds true with more aggressive substances, like wine or blood. —Abigail Wise, digital managing director

SureCall Fusion2Go Max Cell Signal Booster ($500)

I spent a week working while on the road in California last month, which entailed sendingÌęemailÌęfrom different campsites and parking lotsÌęand tuningÌęin to video meetings from camp tables, with the Sierra in my background. While my phone’s Wi-Fi hot spot helped me connect withÌęmy colleagues, it was that made my remote working experience truly productive. BecauseÌęWi-Fi hot spots requireÌęstrong cellÌęservice to operate efficiently, the Fusion2Go ensured I had full bars of LTE connection throughout my entire trip. This car-mounted device uses two antennas to amplify your signal to reach remote towers, and it’s powered with a car adapter, but I simply plugged it into an external battery when my car was off. I was able to make crystal-clear phone calls and join video meetings without interruptions. Best of all,Ìęit works with all North American carriers. I highly recommend this setup for anyone who needs a reliable internet connection while on the go. —Jeremy Rellosa, reviews editor

Middle Kingdom Unique Cup ($14 and Up)

DurableÌęisn’t the first word that comes to mind when you first look atÌęthis from . But it’s the feature that has most impressed me while using it. The cup has survived multiple tumbles on the counter and clashes in the sink without so much as a crack. It’s also multipurpose: I’ve used it to sip all manner of beverages, from coffee in the morning to a gin martini in the evening, andÌęthanks to an interior glaze that resists stains and residues, the flavor of the former never interferes with the latter. While I ownÌęthe largest of three sizes offered, I can’t wait to get my hands on the small- and medium-size cups, which conveniently (and very cutely) nest inside each other for easy storage. —Kelsey Lindsey, senior editor

Haglöfs Roc Down Hooded Jacket ($278)

I live in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where things warm up pretty quickly once March hits. That means all my down jackets were packed away byÌęmid-month—except for . The Roc Down got to stay out because it’s the perfect piece for spring transitions. Filled with a thin layer of DWR-coated 800-fill down, it createsÌęjust the right amount of warmth for backcountry ski starts or early-morning trips into the office. Once the sunÌęcomesÌęout, the jacket packsÌędownÌęto fit in my commuter and ski bags. It will stay out of storage all summer, because the down provides enough immediate warmth for car camping once the light fades fromÌęthe horizon and it’s time to start a fire. —Jakob Schiller, contributing writer

Dynafit Radical Pro Ski Boot ($800)

For yearsÌęI insisted on skiing in the stiffest backcountry boots I could find, because that made me feel cool. If the boots didn’t have a 130 flex, they didn’t make it onto my feet. Then I came back to earth—most of the backcountry skiing I do is pretty mellow, soÌę130 was overkill. That’s why I was excited to get my hands on a pair of the in March. These newly launched boots have a more forgiving and realistic 120 flex and are builtÌęto be all-around backcountry kicks. Features I’ve come to love during several trips lastÌęmonth include a giant 60 degrees of motion, a very generous and comfy-out-of-the-box 103-millimeter last, and the Hoji lock system, whichÌęallows me to change the boot mode from skinning to skiingÌęwith the flick of just one lever. —J.S.

POC Aim Sunglasses ($220)

Who in their right mind would buy giant, ridiculous-lookingÌęsunglasses that cost upward ofÌę$200? It’s a good questionÌęand one I asked myself frequently until I tried . During some longer road rides recently, I was very glad to have the AimÌęover my eyes—itsÌęhumongous, curved lenses cut the wind completely, keepingÌęmy eyes fresh even if I’m in the saddle for five or six hours. These sunglassesÌęalso have a giant field of view so I can easily see cars and riders around me. POC partnered with Zeiss on the lenses for a result that’s ultra clear and crisp, whether you’re eyeingÌędebris on the road orÌęthe beautiful vista in front of you. Rubber grippers on the nose and temples kept the glasses on when I was sweating like a pig, and this styleÌęfits well under POC and other helmets alike. —J.S.

Olight Perun2 Flashlight ($90)

The custom Land Cruiser I built for my wife has one glaring flaw: there’s no light source covering the rear tailgate. I was in the middle of sketching out a custom-wired solution, complete with a one-off 3D printed mount,Ìęwhen I came across a photo of on Instagram. With a right-angle lens and a magnetic base, it looked like it’d be able to stick pretty much anywhere on her liftgate, providing light from the perfect angle for any job. AndÌęproducing up to 2,500 lumens, it’d definitely be bright enough. In action, I couldn’t be happier with it. It’s easy to switch through the various power modes, and the 4,000-milliampere-hourÌębattery pack gives it an extraordinarily long run time (175 minutes on high, and nearly two weeks on low), soÌęwe’ll only need to recharge it once a year or so. The rest of the time it can just hang out in the back of her truck, ready to provide any light we need, whenever and wherever we need it—no weekend-long wiring project necessary. —Wes Siler, contributing editor

Thera Cane Massager ($40) and Joshua Tree Skin Care CBD + Arnica + MentholÌęWarming Balm ($60)

Thera Cane’s magical was one of the first things I bought when I moved out on my own afterÌęlong hours of college studying flared up an old shoulder injury. Eight years later, it’s still one of my prized possessions. Nothing else is as effective at loosening the knots in my neck, shoulders, and lower back after a long day of backpacking or (more likely) staring at my computer. Its bars and knobs are perfectly placed to leverage the sturdy plastic against kinks in all parts of my back and legs—no masseuse necessary. Pair it with Joshua Tree Skin Care’s for a hit of full-spectrum, hemp-based pain relief. It’s pricey, yes, but this stuff was as good as gold on achy post-sledding muscles. —Maren Larsen, associate editor

HeadPeace Original Headband ($14)

For cool-weather runs, HeadPeace’s lightweight rayon and spandex offer just enough protection to keep the wind off my ears without causing me to overheat. I have extra-slippery hair and a sloping head shape that rarely allows me to wear headbands, but this oneÌęstays in place no matter what. The clever trifold design allows you to adjust the band for more or less coverage and a secure fit, without any grippy rubber tuggingÌęyour hair follicles. Plus, the brand is women owned, and itsÌęethically made bands come in a rainbow of colors and patterns to match any style. —M.L.

Goal Zero Flip 24 Power Bank ($30)

When I go into the backcountry nowadays, my phone is my map. I rely on CalTopoÌęorÌęGaia GPS to create routes before heading out and then use them on my device to orient myself and make sure I’m on course. For yearsÌęI relied on a crappy portable battery that I got for free with a magazine subscription to recharge my phone on wilderness trips. At this point, it only gives me about a 25 percent charge, so my girlfriendÌęvery thoughtfully giftedÌęme as a stocking stuffer at Christmas. It’s packable—about the size of a candy bar—super sturdy, and holds the equivalent of two full charges for my iPhone 7. Last weekendÌęI went to Wolf Creek, Colorado, for a level-one avalanche-safety course, part of which required creating a tour plan on CalTopo and using it to help navigate terrain in the field. It was my first chance to use the Flip 24 in the backcountry, and it literally stayed in my pocket powering my phone all weekend. I never dipped below an 80 percent charge. —Luke Whelan, senior editor

DPS Alchemist Wailer 112 RP Skis ($1,299)

Lately I’ve been psyched to pull outÌęmy , lightweight, fat, playful skis that floatÌęlike a dream in powderÌębut handleÌęsun crust, wind buff, refrozen debris, and slushy corn with ease, too. They’ve become my daily driver in the backcountry, because despite the width, they’re nimble and super responsive, carving stable, surfy turns regardless of the conditions (or how worked my legs are). I’ve taken them up Oregon’s MountÌęHood in the middle of summer, down Alaskan spines in the dead of winter, and on more morning powder laps at our local ski hill than I can count. I’ve even skied them in-bounds on powder days when my 102-millimeter-underfoot daily drivers weren’t gonna cut it. I also love that they perfectly match myÌę. —Abigail Barronian, associate editor

Artilect Boulder Crew Base Layer and Leggings ($95 Each)

Artilect is a newcomer to the technical-apparel scene, launching in December out of Boulder, Colorado. So farÌęthe company sells just two merino base layers and two merino leggingsÌębut eventually plans to offer an integrated system that includes a hard shell, down hoodie, fleece, and other items. I’ve been testing the brand’s Boulder Crew Ìęfor ski touring and resort skiing. These are the brand’s lightest-weight pieces. The thin merino-blend fabric is akin to some summer-weight shirtsÌębut insulates impressively well—on a par with some heavier merino garments in my closet. It also dries quickly, even during sweaty uphill tours when I probably should have shed layers. The wide elastic waistband on the leggings is comfortable and snug without being constrictive, and the slim cut fits nicely under ski socks and doesn’t bunch in my boots. I’ve worn both pieces for severalÌęconsecutive days of uphill skiing without washing, and without any resulting stink. Artilect will start selling to consumers thisÌęfall throughÌęretailers like Evo and REI. —Gloria Liu, features editor

Miraflora CBD Soft Gels ($33)

I wish I could heed the expert warnings admonishing me to turn off my computer screen early for a better night’s sleep, but life circumstances have me writing this at 10 P.M. Like many people right now, my partner and I are both juggling full-time work with inconsistent pandemic childcare, and the only reliable time I can catch up on work is when my daughter is asleep. So I’ve been taking for the past month about 30 minutes before I plan to clock out. It has done wonders to help me fallÌęasleep and stayÌęasleepÌęthrough the night. Plus, I never feel groggy in the morning or unable to check in on my three-year-old if she has a nightmare. —Joe Jackson, Gear Guy

The post The Gear Our Editors Loved in March appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

In the wake of Monday’s tragedy in Boulder, Colorado, in which a gunman opened fire at a grocery store, killing ten people, the outdoor industry has rushed to check in on one of its own: Neptune Mountaineering, which sits just a few steps away from the site of the massacre.

Boulder is home to numerous outdoor businesses, including apparel and equipment brands, gear shops, nonprofits, and the industry’s largest trade association. While everyone in the community has been deeply affected by the horrors of the week, Neptune Mountaineering found itself so close to the tragedy that the store’s sign and logo were visible in the background as news cameras panned across the scene unfolding Monday afternoon.

Neptune is located in the Table Mesa Shopping Center, a strip mall adjacent to the King Soopers grocery store where the shooting occurred. Monday afternoon, the shop posted on Facebook that it was on lockdown, as were all businesses in the immediate vicinity. Later that evening, shop owner Shelley Dunbar reported to șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Business Journal that several employees were still “locked up in the store with a couple of customers,” but that no one on staff had been hurt.

By Monday night, when police gained control of the situation, the shop updated its concerned customers and vendors by posting to Facebook again: “All Neptune employees are safe and accounted for. Thank you for reaching out.” On Tuesday, the shop updated its page with another post, this time expressing support for the community with the trending hashtag #BoulderStrong.

Later in the week, OBJÌęchecked in with the shop to ensure its staff was coping after the ordeal.

“While we feel very fortunate that all of our staff are physically OK, considering that many on our team visit King Soopers on a daily basis, we are certainly experiencing an emotional toll and deeply appreciate the compassion and understanding of anyone visiting our store as we heal in the days and weeks to come,” Amy Wansing, Neptune’s marketing manager, told us.

“The outpouring of love from our community so far has been profoundly touching, and we are proud to be a place that people feel connected to on such a personal level. We also look forward to helping our friends and neighbors get outdoors for their own sense of peace and recovery. Beyond that, we’d prefer to keep the focus on the victims and first responders and encourage those who can to donate to the GoFundMe supporting families of the victims,” Wansing said.

Boulder is home to numerous other gear and cycle shops as well—many of which responded similarly to Neptune, with initial safety updates posted to social media channels, followed by expressions of support for the community and sympathy for the victims and their families.

Bicycle Retailer and Industry News (BRAIN), a sister publication to șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Business Journal, published an update on Boulder Cycle Sport, whose South location is in the same shopping center as Neptune. That shop, like Neptune, reported that all its employees are safe.

The post Mass Shooting Hits Close to Home for the Outdoor Industry appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

Hell hath no fury like social media does for a well-meaning Brooklyn mom and writer who sharedÌęher story about living in Boulder, Colorado, during the pandemic.

This harsh truth became apparent on March 8, when The Washington Post Magazine publishedÌę about moving with her family from Brooklyn’s Park Slope neighborhood to Boulder, where she lived for most of 2020 and into 2021. The articleÌęis an amiable part ofÌęa special issue on spring travel, but an army of trolls, angry Boulderites, and Front Range truthers took to their devices to rip it to shreds. Their insults—which showed up in the story’s comments section and on social media—ranged from “lmfao did WaPo really just publish a whole ass article about some yuppies moving from one place to another” to “I’m almost in awe of how clueless this woman is.” We reached out to Miller, who said she hadn’t read the comments (good idea!), to find out how it feels to be the victim of a Colorado landslide.

șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű: Did you have any idea your piece would be greeted with such over-the-top vitriol? I mean, it’s not like you stomped on a kitten. Why are people so fired up?
Miller: I honestly didn’t think a lot of people were going to read it. It’s a travel issue of TheÌęWashington Post Magazine—who even reads special issues? But it ended up on the ±ÊŽÇČőłÙ’s home page, I guess, and got traction. I was expecting some pushback, like, Here’s this white, privileged woman writing about fleeing the pandemic,Ìębut I didn’t think Boulderites would get really angry. I thought they would understand that this was meant to be a fun fish-out-of-water piece.

Have you read the comments on the article itself, on Twitter, Reddit, and other social media platforms?
Oh, God,Ìęno. I never read the comments on any of my stories—and I don’t for this precise reason. Because I think people have strong feelings about things, and they use those platforms to express those feelings. I don’t need to engage with that. If people have constructive feedback, I’m happy to hear it, but those platforms are often used only to vent.

Do the reactions change the way you feel about Boulder or Colorado or people in general?
It’s funny, right? There’s a part in the story where I talk to a guy who was dressed up in drag on a street corner, who’s standing near two opposing groups of protesters. I asked him why he was out there, and basically he said, “Because there’s too much tension and animosity on the other corners.” To me, that’s Boulder. It’s that open-mindedness and sense of freedom, and people are able to be who they are. I guess if the story is getting that kind of negative reaction, that’s contrary at least to this one gentleman’s view of what Boulder is.

I thought Boulder or Coloradans would understand that every place is incredibly complex, and that in a 2,000-word story—which is first person and based on my specific experience—all I can do is describe what happened to me. If you want a story that’s about what it’s like to live in BoulderÌęand be a longtime Boulderite,Ìęand youÌęobserve the changes, that’s a story worth writing and thinking about. But that’s not a story for the spring travel issue of a magazine put out by The Washington Post. That’s a hardcore feature that you report when we’re not in a pandemic. That wasn’t the story I was asked to write, and it’s not what I wrote.

I’ve heard people calling you out for not having a real connection to Boulder. For example, they took issue with your use of formal names for trailheads, like the Walter Orr Roberts Trail, which locally is known as NCAR, which is a reference to its location behind the National Center for Atmospheric Research lab.
But for readers of The Washington Post Magazine, this is a travel story, and if you’re traveling to Boulder, you need to be able to easily locate the things that are referenced in it. In terms of trailheads, it doesn’t matter what Boulderites call it. You have to be able to Google it to know where you’re going.

I thought this comment from an angry reader of your storyÌęwas hysterical, because there’s some truth to it: “They were so into it [Boulder], they actually think it’s interesting.” I’ve been to Park Slope, and I have to say, it’s a lot more culturally stimulating than Boulder.
It’s not really fair to criticize one place for lacking aspects of the other. Both cities have special things to recommend them, though I wouldn’t say broth tonic is one of them.

OK, having lived 13 miles west ofÌęBoulder for 17 years, there are a few things that I have questions about. Starting with: WhatÌęthe hell are “hiking sandals”?
They’re like Keens or Tevas—basically sandals, open-toe, with tread, and people wear them hiking, and everyone I saw on the trails last summer wore them. I called them thatÌęinstead of their official names, because I didn’t want to give free publicity toÌębig brands.

Look, the fact that I’m calling them hiking sandals and saying the Walter Orr Roberts Trail and not NCAR—this shows we are outsiders. That’s the point. The story is about the fact that we are New Yorkers who don’t belong here, and who on that day were ruining the experience of people who were hiking with us. It could not be more self-aware.

Where did you read that the average summertime humidity in Boulder is zero percent? Several weather websites say it’s in the 40 to 50 percent range.Ìę
I found that informationÌę.

Ah, I see. This site is talking about the “feels like” humidity of Boulder in summertime. From someone used to eastern humidity, that’s probably accurate—that is, it would feel like zero percent.
Totally. In New York during the summer, it’s like standing in the shower all the time.

You mentioned that you can drive 4,000 vertical feet in Rocky Mountain National Park “in just a few minutes.” You also mentioned how harrowing the drive was for you. Where were you that you climbed that high that quickly?
That is directly off the website for Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park. That’s from the base to the highest point above the tree line. And it did not take us more than 15 minutes to get from the entrance of the park up to above the tree line.

In the story, you mention letting your kid “jump in” the Blue River in Breckenridge, and that you kept “one eye on him and another on the quaint shops and cafĂ©s.” That’s a real river with a strong current, so this part confused the heck out of me.Ìę
We’re talking about the part of the river that’s right in downtown Breck. All the kids were down there, playing in that river. They were all wearing their hiking sandals. [Laughs.]

I’ve seen comments from people demanding that you “check your privilege.” They also call you “tone deaf” for saying things like, “It was an opportunity for us to test-drive a new kind of existence, even be a different kind of family.” What would you say to them?
I would say that I do check my privilege in the piece. I even use the word! And again, it’s a travel story. The point of traveling is to try on a different existence. I think that’s something a lot of people might be interested in doing if they had the chance. Or if they were lucky—and privileged—enough to have family willing to take them in during a pandemic.

One commenter wrote, “You shouldn’t be writing CO articles yet, your voice is that of an outsider and it hurts to read.” Should only insiders be allowed to write about Boulder?
Then it wouldn’t be a travel story. It wouldn’t be a story for people coming to check out Boulder. I’m sure the insider would have lots of cool recommendations—which, it turns out, I wasn’t able to experience or know about because of the pandemic. From the jump, I make it clear I’m an outsider and that’s the point of view you’re getting.

I noticed that you left some of Boulder’s less perfect stuff out—the year-round homelessness problem, all the millennials who swarmed Boulder Creek last summer, completely disregarding the mask mandate. Did you not see these things, or did they not fit into the narrative?
I’ll answer the second question first. Again, because this was written for a time when people can travel to Boulder freely—that is, post-pandemic—you hopefully won’t still have the kind of University of Colorado chaos you mention—that is, the people in Boulder Creek. But, yeah, I was well aware of the university and problems students can create. As for the homeless problem, I guess
 put it this way:ÌęI’m coming from New York, so what I’m seeing here is what I’m seeing back home.

What was your takeaway from all this?
Don’t read the comments! Other than that, all I can say is that I recognize both our privilege and our outsider status. It’s all there in the story. And, yes, Boulder has shown us a different kind of existence—in a really good way. But we’re still going back to New York.

The post A Park Slope Transplant Wrote a Story About Boulder… appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.