Keystone and Dillon Reservoir

There’s plenty of family-friendly fun waiting in Summit County

Text and photos by Melissa Taylor

My husband and I gather food for our picnic at River Run’s Rockin’ Ranch Trading Post, in Keystone, Colorado while our kids browse the expensive toys, sweatshirts and Christmas ornaments. (No, no, and no. Grandma can get them for you.)

The paved Keystone Bike Path beckons us towards our picnic destination at the Dillon Reservoir. We rent two adult bikes, one bike trailer and one child tag-a-long and start the six-mile ride from River Run to the reservoir.

My younger daughter, munching on Cheddar Bunnies, sits happily in the yellow and blue trailer behind my bike. She finds happiness in the toys and snacks as much or more than the beauty of the ride.

My older daughter on the tag-a-long behind my husband shrieks in delight. “We’re passing you, Mom. We’re the fastest!” The two speed by, grinning.

The Snake River curls alongside us as we ride. We see the Gore Mountain range looming in front of us. I snap a sensory photograph, letting the view seep into my eyes, the breeze cool my skin, the joy fill my heart, so the entire moment is preserved.

I’m happy to be in Keystone. Riding bikes on this path, with this view, with my kids and husband . . . well, it’s worth the two-hour drive up from Denver. It’s pure fun in nature’s museum.

I shift my weight on the gray, uneven boulder. The girls throw rocks in the shallow water, watching for the biggest splash.

At the Dillon Reservoir, we would have taken our annual Christmas card family picture—either from the beach, or from the Swan Lake Road Overlook. I love the view at the overlook—the blue water of the reservoir and the jagged purple peaks flecked with snow. The kids love feeding peanuts to the dozens of friendly chipmunks. Although I normally discourage feeding wildlife, someone always offers the kids access to a peanut stash, and I say, “Sure,” and try not to think about rabies.

When the kids and I finish lunch, we stretch and walk. Our walk is a slow wandering, looking for rocks and pinecones to add to our collection—also known as our favorite hiking activity.

“Look mom, this rock is soooo beautiful!” my three-year-old squeals. She holds out a gray rock flecked with black spots. I smile. Kids find beauty in the small details. It’s a valuable lesson. I let the rock slide into my backpack pocket. Found memories from Keystone are my daughter’s way of taking a picture.

Soon my husband returns. He’s just in time to see a really big pinecone. And it’s prickly. It joins the collection in my backpack.

We celebrate his successful journey with more rock plunkings and pebble splashings in the river. He’s happy to catch his breath.

We sit together by the river. The mountain air is different than the air in Denver. We breathe it in while the river’s humming serenades us. We will ride back in a few minutes. Later tonight, we’ll spend the evening at River Run’s Family Fun Night. Tonight’s big event is a puppet show.

Keystone beckons our family every year. It’s everything we love about Colorado—nature, family time and fun. (Even with a flat tire.)

Traveling with kids has grown progressively easier. At three and six, our kids can enjoy Keystone with us—the hikes, the bike riding, the family activities, the restaurants, the shops, everything but the downhill mountain biking. Which, frankly, I wouldn’t want to try anyway. Maybe it’s my lack of testosterone.

“Mom, Mom,” shouts my three-year-old from her nest behind me, interrupting my thoughts.

“What?”

“Something’s bumpy,” she says.

The Gore Range disappears as I turn to tell her that all bike rides are bumpy. My husband, Jeff, and our other daughter slow down to join us. “Your trailer has a flat,” my husband observes.

We assess the situation and determine that there’s nothing to do but wait for Jeff to ride back to the bike shop. (Helpful travel tip: When on a bike ride, bring a pump, a patch kit, and always carry a cell phone!)

The girls and I stand on the path waving goodbye, as Jeff rides off with the flat tire resting on his handlebars. Even though our plans to picnic at Dillon Reservoir are thwarted, I’m not the least bit worried. My kids have fun anywhere; so do I.

We leave my bike, the trailer, and the tag-a-long on the side of the bike path in the scrub oak and meander down to the river to look for a good spot. There’s determination in our search—we have to find flattish rocks upon which to sit, near the river, but not so near that I worry about falling in the rapidly moving water.
Our search yields a shady spot by a natural curve in the river. Pine trees surround us. We watch a small waterfall, drink lemonade, eat turkey sandwiches and crunch on Fuji apples.