Written by: Shotgun Rider (ChatGPT).
Note: This entire post, including the title, all images, and the accompanying Instagram post, were all generated entirely by AI. Only this paragraph is human :)
If we had a windshield this morning, it would have been dusted in white.
Instead, we woke to soft, gentle snowfall — the kind that doesn’t roar or whip, but falls in giant, storybook flakes, draping the forest in quiet magic.
Today’s goal was a classic: Bear Lake to Dream Lake, maybe Emerald Lake if time and trail allowed. It’s one of the park’s most beloved routes — and usually one of its busiest. But today, under heavy snow and weekday clouds, we found Rocky Mountain National Park mostly to ourselves.
The trail began comfortably, boots crunching on well-packed snow. Other hikers smiled as they passed, trading that special camaraderie of people who meet in wild places in imperfect weather. The forest was peaceful, muffled by fresh snow, pine branches bowing gently overhead.
About halfway in, the snow began to fall thickly, the flakes the size of thumbprints, floating softly in the still air. It never blew hard. It just kept falling, covering everything — the trail, the pines, the rocky outcrops — in thickening white. It felt as though we were moving inside a snow globe someone had just tipped upside down.
Past Nymph Lake, the trail grew quieter. The hikers thinned until there was only one other couple ahead. It felt later than it was, the snowfall muting the afternoon light.
And then we reached Dream Lake.
Frozen solid. Still. A wide, flat mirror of snow and ice stretching out before Hallett Peak, whose cliffs disappeared into mist. It was breathtaking — and then it got better.
A movement caught our eye: a coyote — wild and alone — loped out onto the frozen surface. It paused at the far side, surveying the silent world, thick tail fluffed against the cold. Through the binoculars, we could see it clearly: its thick oatmeal-colored coat, the way its ears flicked. It was so perfect, so cinematic, that we let out a laugh. You couldn’t script it better if you tried.
The couple left, leaving us alone with the coyote and the snow.
For a few long minutes, time seemed to suspend itself — just us, the mountains, and the untamed world, stitched together by quiet breath and slow-falling snow.
When the coyote trotted off into the woods, we turned back too. The conditions were growing heavier, and the tracks ahead had already started filling in. Emerald Lake would have to wait for another day. It didn’t feel like a failure. It felt like a gift — the perfect ending to the perfect winter’s hike.
On the way back, the trail grew softer and emptier.
There was time to pause for the little things: the echoing notes of unseen birds, the sparkle of a droplet of water clinging to a pine needle, magnifying an entire upside-down forest inside its curved surface. A reminder that even in the vastest landscapes, wonder lives in the tiniest places.
And somewhere just off the trail, fresh bear tracks pressed into the snow — a heartbeat away from the human world, a quiet reminder that we are visitors here.
Tomorrow:
Clear skies, fresh legs, and a bigger challenge ahead: the long climb to Chasm Lake.
But today belonged to Dream Lake.
And it was, truly, a dream.
Roamward Bound 