The bus pulled away from the Boulder hotel at 9 AM bound for Rocky Mountain National Park. On board were natives of several small island nations not far north of Venezuela. The hired tour guide spoke too quickly into the microphone - clearly not entirely comfortable being the center of their attention. To ease his awkwardness he gesticulated toward the myriad sites they were passing enroute and filled the silent voids with what he hoped were non-superfluous facts and worthwhile minutea. There were 23 on the tour and 20 were straight from sea level. What better way to introduce them to the Rockies the guide thought than to bring them into the alpine tundra at an elevation of 12,000 feet! Upon asking, the guide found that several on board had never encountered snow before.
Elk and deer sightings proliferated as they made their way across the park boundary and climbed toward the Continental Divide. An exceedingly busy day, the roads filled with motoring tourist as it happened to be "Fee Free Day" in the Park. Around 11,700 feet in the shuffling traffic, the large motor coach shuddered and shut down. The driver was calm yet still confident it would restart. The key turned and a puff of dark diesel smoke sailed past the tinted windows. It was then the 24 passengers disembarked, leaving the bus and driver parked on Trailridge Road for a tow truck that would be some three hours out.
Crossing the road onto the tundra the group found that a knot of tourists had gathered and partially encircled a band of bighorn sheep. This was a stroke of good luck for the guide because he assumed a ranger would be there looking out for the welfare of the sheep - and there was. The bus had given up the ghost in one of the few pockets up high in the Park with zero cell reception so the rangers and their radios would be the contact with the outside world. As the ranger shifted his attention from tundra traffic to hiway traffic the towtruck was called out from Longmont and the nearest available bus was now on its way from Denver.
The traffic was heavy, and made heavier by the bus parked in the road. A few hours went by while stories were shared at the side of Trial Ridge Road, lunch and all the water consumed. The wind and cloud pushed passed the lofty peaks of the divide and they shared a place in the sky with them. Not only did they witness snow but some also got to feel the effects of the altitude and not in the friendliest way.
The guide prevailed upon the ranger to deliver him five miles up the road to the Alpine Visitor Center and Cafe so that he could get more food and drink for the patiently waiting, all now out of the wind and cooling afternoon and back in the shelter of the defunct bus that had been moved several hundred yards via the tow truck into the viewpoint lot. At the cafe the guide found it had just closed. He prevailed upon the clerks to sell him food, sharing the story of the day with them. A manager filled three grocery bags with juice, bananas, and sandwiches and only charged him for about a third of what had been bagged up. The guide told himself to remember to send a thank you note for their kindness, and to the rangers for being so accomadating despite the extra challenge to them...
The guide was enriched, hearing so many great stories from the islanders - stories of a totally different way of life in the distant Atlantic. Along the drive home laughter soon prevailed again. Definitely a trip to remember.
