Hike 2 of 2026: Rock Park
For my second hike in 2026, I went to Rock Park in Castle Rock, Colorado. Here are notes from my experience and why I decided to share it with other creatives like you. (Read to the end.)
A few notes and reminders first:
At the beginning of 2026, I vowed to go on at least one hike per week with my husband and rescue dog, Lilly. There are many reasons we decided to do this:
We’re fortunate enough to live in an area of Colorado that has quick access to a ton of trails and outdoor space, or is a short car ride away from them.
Our rescue dog, Lilly, recently recovered from double-knee surgery and is able to hike again.
We want to do something active over the weekend when we spend time together—something that doesn’t involve a screen.
We love being in nature, as it has so many positive effects on our overall well-being (mentally, physically, spiritually).
Personally, being in nature on a regular basis allows my creativity to flow more easily when I do finally sit down at a computer to write again. (Keep reading to the end of this post to see more of this.)
If you’re a writer or do creative work, you’ll want to be in nature more, trust me. Hopefully, the posts I share about my hiking experiences this year will shed more light on why, and how beneficial it can be for your overall life and creativity.
Full disclosure: I am not an expert hiker, and I’m not sure I aspire to be one either. I am a normal, simple person who writes and wants to explore the beautiful terrain surrounding her and where she lives.
I just want to occasionally break away from the daily grind, reset, enjoy some fresh air, and occasionally be inspired by the natural world surrounding me. That’s it. And I want to share my hiking experiences with you, so you might find some creative inspiration as well, as I document these experiences.
Hike 2: Rock Park
1.18.26, approx. 12:30 PM MST
I live in a newer suburb in a mid-sized town named after a geological feature at Rock Park that can be seen from most vantage points across town, and is supposed to look like a castle. Though we’ve lived here for over four years, we never got around to visiting ‘the rock’ up close and personal until this past weekend.
This past Sunday, after acquiring some new hiking shoes at the outlet mall on the outskirts of town, we headed straight over to climb ‘the rock’— or the narrow, rocky, steep trail leading up to it, I should say.
For years I have driven by this massive rock while making my way in and out of and through town. And every time I look up at it, I’m instantly transported back in time. To a time when there were only a handful of structures in town. To a time when people were settling here and building a railroad through it. And then I can’t stop myself from wondering who lived here before the settlers arrived, and where the descendants of those people are now.
I wonder if the people native to this land only passed through it periodically in search of sustenance, as it is rocky and hilly and windy here. Or whether they were made unkept promises. Or whether they knew the natural dangers of this place and monitored the follies of the settlers from afar. And I wonder, of course, whether they climbed what became known as Castle Rock or let it blend into the world surrounding them, never attempting to ‘conquer’ the nature surrounding them.
So, back to this past weekend, when we visited ‘the rock’…
The path we took up to ‘the rock’ was steep and rocky with sharp turns and large boulders, which made me feel like I was conquering something, albeit slowly. Or that I was supposed to be trying to conquer something anyway.
Luckily, it was a cool January day without wind gusts, and the sun was sporadically covered by clouds overhead, which prevented me from freezing or burning as we climbed. It was, all in all, an ideal hike, weather-wise.
The noisy highway in the near distance, however, made me feel trapped somewhere in between the past and future, yet misaligned with the present. It felt like I was in limbo, or some type of liminal space. I could see the Rocky Mountain Front Range juxtaposed with a suburban sprawl, and it just felt weird.
To my left was a looming geological structure with dormant rattlesnakes and shrubs surrounding it— a structure that looked less and less like a castle the closer and closer we got to it. But to my right was a busy highway, a massive new apartment complex, and gas stations. Honestly, I felt a bit untethered, like we were in between two parallel spaces and realities. Until we reached the top.
At the top, I got to touch the giant rock and stand beneath it. I got to see its pockmarks and algae up close and examine where it’s eroding. I got to see it and admire it as it really is.
The closer I got to that giant rock, the smaller and more fragile it seemed. Up close, it was not a castle, it was something to sit next to, to protect, to shield from people and the elements. And that’s what I’ll remember most. That, and how from its southernmost vista, I could see my house, my home. Then again, I was stuck between the past and future, though somehow misaligned with the present.
The descent from the giant-but-not-so-giant rock was much easier. But I’m not yet sure whether that’s a good or bad omen. Still, I’ll keep admiring ‘the castle rock’ from the other side of town, and when I drive by it. Though moving forward, I will admire it as if it were an old castle that needs protection from us and not the other way around.
When’s the last time you were in nature and confronted with your time and space in the world?
© This work is not available for artificial intelligence (AI) training. All Rights Reserved by K.E. Creighton; Creighton’s Compositions LLC.
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