Brian and I descended back to ~7,000 feet for dinner in a small-town Indian restaurant in Nederland, Colorado, west of Boulder. By then, both our heads ached like a bad hangover, and my lungs literally burned when I tried to inhale anything but shallow breaths. Add generalized joint pain, and I had a full-blown case of altitude sickness. Given that I am a noted hypochondriac, I expected the worst.
Ready to get romantic? Stop in and enjoy the Armstrong’s on-site speakeasy-era jazz club, Ace Gillett’s Lounge, located in the basement of the Armstrong Hotel. An underground shadowy enclave with nearly 100 years of history, order from their signature drink of martinis, wine and local brews, and kick back with your sweetheart in two cozy rooms featuring live jazz music 4 nights a week.
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.
