My 6-month-old squirmed in my arms as I tried to load the diaper bag into the overhead compartment and direct my other three children to take their seats when the flight attendant leaned in with a smile.
“Have you heard?” she asked, as if sharing a secret. “We’re getting snow.”
“Snow?” I asked, surprised.
I had assumed a winter visit to Colorado would involve snow.
“We’ve had the driest, mildest winter I can remember,” the attendant said. “But this week, we’ll get a big storm. Several feet.”
My older kids, ages 9, 7, and 4, erupted in cheers. Inwardly, I cringed.
I come from a skiing family. Growing up in Buffalo, New York, we quickly learned that skiing was the best way to pass those long winters. It became something we all did together: My siblings, my parents, and I learned at the same time. Now, my own children are part of that long thread of tradition. They love being on the mountain with their cousins, coming inside only when bribed with hot chocolate.
My parents have recently moved on to bigger mountains than Western New York offers, which is why we were headed to southwestern Colorado for spring break with them.
Normally, I love it, too. But this season of life has a baby who very much cannot ski. Although I had not said it aloud, I had been quietly hoping for a week of milder weather and some of that famous Colorado sunshine.
“Several feet,” I thought as the plane descended.
Stepping Into the Wild West
Turns out, I didn’t need to worry. Durango has a way of taking care of its visitors, storm or no storm.
Founded in 1880 by the Denver and Rio Grande Western Railroad, Durango was originally built to serve the San Juan mining district. Although it has grown exponentially, the town hasn’t quite shaken that original Wild West feel–nor does it seem to want to. From the beautifully preserved Victorian-era downtown to the historic Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad, Durango feels like stepping into an old photograph.
Today, those well-built streets offer an incredible variety of restaurants and shops. The city has more restaurants per capita than San Francisco. The croissants at Jean-Pierre Bakery were a big hit with our kids, while my parents and I enjoyed drinks at the Derailed Pour House.
The two days before the storm were gorgeous. Ready to soak up the 60-degree sunshine, we headed to Mesa Verde National Park, the only World Heritage site in Colorado. The park is home to some of the best-preserved Puebloan ancestral sites in the United States. Although some park facilities close for winter, we could still drive up the mesa and view the cliffside dwellings tucked into canyon walls from the lookout points.
The next day, fueled with steaming cups of the house roast from Durango Coffee Co., we climbed aboard the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad. The steam train, which once hauled silver and ore, has operated continuously for 140 years. Now operating as a tourist destination, the steam train retains its old-world coach interiors. As we wound through the San Juan mountains with stunning views of the gorge below, my kids exclaimed at the steep drops and the low moan of the whistle as we rounded the bend.
As promised, snow did come.
The Beauty of Being Snowed In
My older kids enjoyed some great runs at Purgatory Ski Resort, where kids younger than 12 ski for free. But improbably, my favorite day was the worst one of the storm. We were pummeled with three feet of snow in three hours. After a failed attempt to leave the house, we realized we would not be skiing the mountain. There was, quite literally, nowhere to go and nothing to do.
At the condo, we lit a fire, made warm drinks, and played games on the floor, the baby rolling back and forth between us. The day had the kind of slowness I always say I want but rarely manage to find.
Later, when the snow slowed a bit, we put on snow pants and hiked around the neighborhood. The same paths the kids could have biked two days before were now buried under something entirely new.
Colorado has a way of gradually getting under your skin. When you first arrive, it almost feels like too much: the dramatic weather that swings from winter to summer in an afternoon, the vastness of the mountains. It’s like seeing the world in technicolor.
But then something small catches you: gentle snowfall on the aspen trees, coffee on the porch as the sun comes up over the mountains, rounding a bend on a railroad to find a crystal-blue sky. The way your kids grow more adventurous, and for the first time in a while, you feel like you could, too.
I didn’t get the full-sun, warm weather I had hoped for. But I did get exactly what I needed.
