I drove between mountains. Around mountains. Over mountains. I passed Mount Elbert (at 14,443 feet, the highest peak in Colorado), Twin Lakes (though mountain lakes no longer surprised me), Leadville (a historic mining town), until by evening I arrived back at I-70, and Vail.
Vail, Colorado, is built up the slope of a mountainside in a picturesque but labyrinthine layout of one-way streets and places you can see but not get to. Everyone in Vail must own a helicopter because that’s the only way I can see of getting from one end of the town to the other.
I spent the night at the Marriott Resort at the western end of town. My suite cost only $25 dollars a night. I don’t know why. Maybe I looked desperate for respite.
When I awoke the next morning, someone had stolen the oxygen. Vail is 9000 feet above sea level and the altitude was finally getting to me—my asthma (miasma?) didn’t help. So I jumped in my car, followed my trail of breadcrumbs to escape the maze (sorry about mixing my mythology) and began my descent from the mountaintop.
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