A geographical anomaly is found along the slopes of the Never Summer Mountains where the Continental Divide forms a horseshoe–shaped bend for about 6 miles (9.7 km), heading from south–to–north but then curving sharply southward and westward out of the park.[5][27] The sharp bend results in streams on the eastern slopes of the range joining the headwaters of the Colorado River that flow south and west, eventually reaching the Pacific.[5][28] Meanwhile, streams on the western slopes join rivers that flow north and then east and south, eventually reaching the Atlantic.[5][28]
A comfortable reading and DVD library serves as the perfect place to relax with a book and a glass of wine, and there is free high-speed Internet throughout the property. The Wild Horse Inn is surrounded by incredible natural landscapes that offer an array of activities to partake in, from hiking, mountain biking, and climbing to boating, rafting and fishing, and various snow sports in the winter. The inn is located 1 hour and 30 minutes from Denver.
The park's climate is also affected by the Continental Divide, which runs northwest to southeast through the center of the park atop the high peaks. The Continental Divide creates two distinct climate patterns - one typical of the east side near Estes Park and the other associated with the Grand Lake area on the park's west side.[49] The west side of the park experiences more snow, less wind, and clear cold days during the winter months.[49]
The house also features a hot tub on the second-floor deck, a modern entertainment living room with a large, flat screen television for movie watching and a lovely terraced back garden with a gazebo. Winter Park Chateau enjoys a prime downtown location within walking distance to many restaurants, cafés, and bars, as well as nightclubs. It is within walking distance of the ski mountain and close to four championship golf courses and Rocky Mountain National Park.
The sun made us lazy, and after following Brian as he made his way upstream I found a wider expanse of sand and gravel, promptly plopping down on a pair of flip flops I had brought in my backpack as a make-shift seat. After identifying the northern harrier hawk over my head, and the savannas sparrows and red-winged blackbirds perched precariously on reeds across the water, I took out my knitting project. I didn’t have to worry about losing Brian; in the valley I could see for miles in both directions.
