Rocky Mountain High

The lovely Mrs. Junell and myself know that feeling all too well. There is no euphoria — short of finding the love of your life or holding your child for the first time — that matches the joy of God’s majesty painted in those mountains.

Those of you who know me well also know we lived in Colorado for a bit a few years ago as I was publisher of a now defunct small newspaper on the plains. For the record, it didn’t close because of me — in fact, not to brag, but I’ve been credited with actually extending its lifespan.

But I digress.

In our time there we explored almost every part of the state. We have visited the legendary Stanley Hotel snuggled in the mountains around Estes Park several times — you know, the place that was the inspiration for Stephen King’s novel, “The Shining.”

We have been to the southern part of the state for the annual tarantula migration. That’s right, each year — actually around this time — thousands of the hairy arachnids make the journey from Texas to Colorado for mating purposes.

I guess when you have a choice of being romantic in 110-degree heat or a slightly cooler atmosphere, it helps make the choice — especially when you have that much hair on your body.

And we still make the trek up to Colorado about four times each year. In fact, we will be returning in late November to celebrate Thanksgiving with our daughter, son-in-law, and precious granddaughter Wren — who just started pre-K and is ecstatic.

While they live just outside Denver and a stone’s throw away from the mountains, Junell and I also escape into the mountains for a few days while there to celebrate our anniversary. We will do so again this year as, for some reason, she continues to put up with me after 15 years.

But one thing we had never done — until this summer — was visit Aspen. It was one of those things we often talked about, but for some reason or another it never happened.

We’d always heard how gorgeous a small town it is. How it’s one of the garden centers in a state filled with garden centers.

Denver sang about it in one of his greatest songs, “Starwood in Aspen.” And now that we’ve visited, I completely understand why he fell in love with it.

Of course, he could afford to live there, unlike most of us. The average home, according to the latest search, sells for around $15 million. If you want a condo or town home, they are much cheaper at an average of around $3.5 million.

No, that was not a typo. You read “million,” as in if you’re not a Hollywood celebrity or owner of a company that ships anything you can imagine to all parts of the world, don’t even think about buying a house or property there.

I heard that even living in someone’s garage will cost at least a million — and that’s renting — even more if you want heating and air-conditioning.

But visiting Aspen is actually not as expensive as one might think. Sure, the food costs a few bucks more, but such things as bus transportation throughout the valley is extremely affordable. It’s even free if you’re 65 or older.

We actually stayed about 40 minutes outside of Aspen in a charming place named The Historic Redstone Inn. It was originally a quarters for miners who worked in the area and is now a wonderfully rustic hotel nestled up against the mountains with a calming brook within earshot.

The single road running through the town of Redstone has several signs warning visitors who might venture onto the trails to beware of bears. We did not venture onto the trails.

We landed in the Aspen area at a great time. Being art-lovers, we, of course, had to take in the annual Aspen Arts Festival, which featured amazing works from coast to coast. We even met an artist from Fort Worth who said he looks forward to the festival each year because he, too, can’t get enough of the mountains.

A few miles outside of town is the ghost town of Ashcroft. A walk through it sends visitors back to a day when life was much simpler, albeit much harder on a daily basis, as miners strived to find their wealth.

And what’s a trip to Aspen without a visit to the John Denver Sanctuary. Created by his ex-wife, Annie, to honor him, it is set off from the city’s main park, hidden by a grove of trees and filled with rocks engraved with lyrics from his songs.

And apparently the wildlife he so loved finds it attractive also. Ever seen a real-life moose up close?

We hadn’t either until that day. We found ourselves about 20 yards away from what, to us at least, looked like a beast that would make Bullwinkle seem to be nothing more than Bambi.

We were told by police who were keeping folks back that it actually was a baby. But to our untrained moose-spotting eyes it looked like it was about to do some Godzilla-like destruction on downtown — which was only a couple blocks away.

It was, however, one of the coolest moments among many in our Aspen getaway.

The adventure had so much more, including crossing the Continental Divide coming from two directions. We also visited the tiny town of Marble, which is named so because it is one of the nation’s largest manufacturers of marble and is also the place where the Lincoln Memorial and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier were created.

And while the town is so small it doesn’t even have internet, it does have some of the best barbecue we ever tasted. So good, in fact, if you closed your eyes you’d swear you were eating it smack dab in the middle of Texas.

We also met some really nice people who visited the area and decided to make it their home — not Aspen itself (remember the aforementioned housing prices) — but in nearby Carbondale or Glenwood Springs.

One of them works at a local golf course and even offered me a free round. I will probably take him up on it next time we are in that area.

Which, trust me, will not be nearly as long as it took us to visit the first time.