Exploring Colorado’s High Country: From Frisco to Gunnison
From Golden, we continued on Interstate 70 to Summit County and Colorado’s High Country. I was eager to show Andrea cute mountain towns and some of the best mountain scenery in the American West. Our journey took us through historic mining towns, along pristine alpine lakes, and over mountain passes that have witnessed centuries of human endeavor.
Frisco
Nestled at 9,075 feet above sea level, Frisco sits at the intersection of Summit County’s past and present. The town was established in the 1870s during Colorado’s mining boom, and its name has an interesting origin story. According to local lore, the town was named after one of its early settlers—a man from San Francisco who went by the nickname “Frisco.” Another theory suggests it was named after the abbreviation for San Francisco itself, a city many prospectors had passed through on their way to Colorado’s gold fields. The name stuck, though San Franciscans themselves famously dislike their city being called “Frisco.”
Today, Frisco has evolved from its mining roots into a charming mountain community of approximately 3,000 residents. But you’d never know the town was so small based on our Saturday arrival. We happened to time our visit perfectly with Frisco Fall Fest, and Main Street was absolutely buzzing with energy. Hundreds of people filled the streets, enjoying live music that echoed off the surrounding peaks, browsing colorful arts and crafts booths, and sampling food from various vendors.
The festive atmosphere was contagious, and I soon found myself in line for what appeared to be the festival’s star attraction: oversized pretzels. I noticed someone walking by with one of these Bavarian specimens, golden-brown and generously salted, and immediately knew I needed one. The lengthy queue seemed to confirm my instinct—surely these must be exceptional pretzels to warrant such a wait.
Well, about that. I had dutifully consumed about two-thirds of my pretzel, trying to convince myself it was worth the wait, when I heard a small voice nearby articulate exactly what I’d been thinking. A little boy, holding his own pretzel with a look of deep disappointment, announced loudly to his parents: “Those pretzels were WAY too salty!” I couldn’t help but laugh. Out of the mouths of kids comes the honest truth.
Beyond the festival, Frisco impressed us with its newer residential architecture. We admired several attractive townhome developments featuring third-floor terraces that offered panoramic mountain views. It’s easy to imagine spending winter evenings on those terraces, watching the alpenglow fade from the peaks while sipping a beer or hot cocoa.
Our exploration led us to Frisco Bay, part of the Dillon Reservoir recreation area. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect—crisp mountain air, brilliant sunshine, and deep blue skies that seem to exist only at high altitude. Several sailboats stood stagnant on the water. The only slightly disappointing note was that the reservoir’s water level appeared notably low, exposing more shoreline than usual—a visible reminder of Colorado’s ongoing water concerns.
Breckenridge
From Frisco, we made the short drive to Breckenridge, a town of roughly 5,000 full-time residents that swells dramatically during ski season. For me, this visit carried a touch of nostalgia. I had been here a decade earlier during the Trans America Bicycle Race, when equipment failure forced an emergency stop. I remember rushing into a bike shop to replace broken pedals, ultimately purchasing Shimano double-sided SPD pedals that served me well for the remainder of that grueling cross-country journey.
After all our walking in Frisco, we’d earned a beverage break. We settled into the Breckenridge Taphouse, where Andrea ordered a Coors Banquet beer—a Colorado classic—while I opted for a nonalcoholic beer. The taphouse provided a comfortable vantage point for people-watching as tourists and locals mingled outside.
Breckenridge shares Frisco’s mountain-ringed setting, though I’d give the edge to Frisco for sheer scenic impact. What Breckenridge offers instead is density and variety. With double Frisco’s population, downtown Breckenridge’s west end clusters more tightly, packed with shops, restaurants, galleries, and bars. The town is perhaps best known for world-class skiing—Breckenridge Ski Resort regularly ranks among North America’s most visited ski areas—but it’s also developed into a mountain biking destination, with an extensive network of trails ranging from gentle paths to technical downhill runs.
One thing we couldn’t help but notice: Jeeps were absolutely everywhere. It seemed like every third vehicle was a Wrangler or Gladiator, many modified with lift kits, oversized tires, and roof racks. Breckenridge clearly embraces four-wheel-drive culture.
South Park City: Welcome to Fairplay
From Breckenridge, we continued our journey to Fairplay, but not before making an essential photo stop. I spotted a sign pointing to “South Park City” and immediately knew we had to step out of the car and investigate. While South Park is indeed the name of the irreverent animated television show, it’s also a real geographic basin in central Colorado—a high-altitude grassland valley surrounded by mountain ranges. Fairplay sits right in the heart of this region at an elevation of 9,953 feet.
South Park City itself is actually an outdoor museum featuring restored buildings from the late 1800s, preserving the area’s mining heritage. We took the obligatory photos by the South Park sign, embracing our inner tourists.
What made me laugh was spotting a “Congested Area” warning sign right next to the South Park City entrance. Looking around at the vast, empty landscape with perhaps one other car in sight, the irony was not lost on us. Congested? We seemed to be only ones out on the street.
Fairplay itself is a town of about 700 hardy souls who endure some of Colorado’s coldest temperatures and shortest growing seasons. The town has preserved much of its frontier character, with false-front buildings and wooden sidewalks that look much as they did in the late 1800s.
Gunnison
The drive from Fairplay to Gunnison takes you over one of Colorado’s most spectacular mountain passes. U.S. Highway 285 leads south through South Park’s wide-open grasslands, where pronghorn antelope outnumber people, before climbing toward the Continental Divide. The landscape shifts from parkland to dense forests of pine and aspen as you gain elevation.
This route showcases Colorado’s high country in all its varied glory—wide valleys give way to narrowing canyons, and distant peaks draw steadily closer. The road demands attention as it winds through mountain terrain, but the views are worth every careful mile.
By dinner time, we rolled into Gunnison, a town of approximately 10,000 residents that serves as the commercial hub of the Gunnison Valley. The town owes much of its character to Western Colorado University (formerly Western State College), which brings about 3,500 students to this remote mountain location. The university, founded in 1911, specializes in outdoor recreation programs and has developed a reputation for excellence in fields like mountain studies, environmental studies, and outdoor leadership. The student population gives Gunnison a youthful energy that might otherwise be absent from such an isolated location.
Gunnison also claims the distinction of being one of the coldest towns in the continental United States. Its location in a high-altitude valley creates perfect conditions for cold air to settle, and winter temperatures regularly plunge below zero. But on this pleasant autumn evening, the cold was still weeks away.
For dinner, we chose Sherpa Café, attracted by the promise of Himalayan cuisine in the Colorado mountains. The restaurant specializes in Nepalese and Tibetan dishes. Both Andrea and I love Indian cuisine, which is quite similar—so this seemed like an ideal way to top off our stomachs for the day.
I ordered the Sherpa Stew, and it arrived as a generous bowl brimming with vegetables, tender chunks of chicken and lamb, hearty flour dumplings, aromatic spices, and a rich, flavorful broth. It was exactly the kind of warming, substantial meal you want after a long day of mountain driving and exploring. Andrea chose chicken curry with rice, and we shared naan bread and crispy samosas filled with spiced potatoes and peas.
The food was genuinely good—flavorful, authentic, and satisfying. I cleaned my bowl completely. Unfortunately, something in Andrea’s meal didn’t quite agree with her stomach. It’s impossible to say exactly what caused the issue, but it was an unfortunate end to what I otherwise would have classified as an excellent meal.
Sunset Drive to Montrose
From Gunnison, we continued west toward Montrose, where we’d spend the night. The timing of our departure gifted us with one of those resplendent Colorado sunsets that make you understand why painters and photographers flock to the West. The sky transformed into layers of color—soft pink melting into deep orange, then purple, and finally the deep blue of approaching night. The mountains stood in silhouette against this chromatic display, their ridgelines sharp against the glowing sky.
Our route took us over Monarch Pass. It sits at 11,312 feet and is one of Colorado’s more dramatic mountain crossings, with the highway threading through steep terrain with precipitous drop-offs and stunning alpine vistas. Unfortunately, darkness swallowed these views before we could fully appreciate them. We drove through the blackness, our headlights illuminating only the immediate stretch of pavement and the occasional reflective highway sign.
We arrived at our hotel in Montrose by 9:30 p.m., after a wonderful day. Fortunately, Montrose was not the end of the beautiful mountains in Colorado—far from it. In fact, it is arguable that the best was yet to come.
