Our First Trip to the Rocky Mountains
October 2021
Back in October of 2021, when masks were still required in airports and on planes, I surprised my husband with a birthday weekend trip that would quietly change both of us.
I had been searching for something meaningful. A bucket list moment. Something unexpected. I typed “The Stanley Hotel” into Google almost casually, not really expecting anything to come of it. Then I checked airline tickets.
Ninety-seven dollars round trip per person.
Sold.
I booked the flights immediately and planned the entire trip around his birthday weekend before I could second guess it.
When we landed in Colorado and made our way to Estes Park, neither of us were prepared for what we were walking into. The town felt small but powerful, like it existed with intention. And then there were the mountains. The Rocky Mountains rose up around us with a presence that felt almost alive. We had not realized Estes Park was the gateway to the Rockies, and standing there for the first time felt like being let in on a secret.
That trip turned into the beginning of an obsession with the mountains that we still carry today.
But the Stanley Hotel was the centerpiece of the weekend. We stayed two nights in a building that feels frozen in time. The rooms are older, traditional, and full of character. No modern polish. Just history. We stayed on the second floor above the main entrance, with a mountain view that stopped us both in our tracks.
Naturally, I brought my camera everywhere.
We walked the halls, slowly and intentionally. I photographed the staircase, the long hallways, the quiet corners. We made our way to the infamous Room 217, the room that inspired Stephen King while he stayed at the hotel in 1974. I took a photo there too. Of course I did.
For anyone unfamiliar, The Stanley Hotel is famous because it inspired King’s novel The Shining. But its story began long before that. The hotel was built in 1909 by Freelan Oscar Stanley, the co-founder of Stanley Motor Carriage Company. He came to Estes Park for his health after battling tuberculosis and believed the mountain air helped save his life. He built the hotel as a place of luxury and healing, a retreat where people could come to rest, recover, and breathe clean mountain air.
Over the years, the hotel became known not just for its grandeur, but for its stories. Guests and staff have long reported unexplained sounds, moving objects, and voices. Whether you believe in that sort of thing or not, the atmosphere is undeniable.
We had our own experiences.
Late one night, the curtains in our room moved on their own. There was no window open. No breeze. Both of us noticed it at the same time. Later, we both heard a human-sounding voice come from the same area where the curtains had moved earlier. It was quiet, brief, and unmistakable.
We looked at each other and laughed, mostly out of disbelief.
Nothing dramatic happened after that, but the feeling stayed with us. A sense that the building holds onto its stories. That it remembers.
That weekend marked the beginning of something for me as a photographer. I was not chasing perfection or technical mastery yet. I was practicing how to see. How to notice mood, shadow, history, and feeling. How a place can speak without words.
The Stanley Hotel was not just a stay. It was an experience. And Estes Park was not just a destination. It was an introduction to the mountains that would shape many trips to come.
Some places don’t just give you photos.
They give you a before and after.