The first time I came out West, I fell in love with the land. It was fall break at my university in my native Indiana, and on a whim, I jumped into a car with a couple of buddies who were driving to Colorado to do some hiking. On that trip, I took in the rippled horizon from the summit of Quandary Peak, got chased down a waterfall-dotted trail in Rocky Mountain National Park by a sudden thunderstorm, and drifted off to the sound of elk bugling outside an Estes Park cabin. The second time I visited, I fell for the people. The wonder Colorado’s scenery had stirred in my flatlander heart compelled me to apply for an internship at this magazine. But when I flew in for the interview, it was the can-do enthusiasm I encountered in conversation after conversation that sold me on starting my career, and the next chapter of my life, here. Fifteen years later, I feel so lucky to put together our annual “Best of the Mountain West” package, which celebrates both the landscapes and the people that make this region such an exciting place to call home. It’s my hope that the stories here—a
150-million-year-old dinosaur trackway near Ouray ,
four sisters bringing tastes of Afghanistan to Boise , a new
mountain-bike-optimized trail network in Prescott —encourage you to explore the breadth of experiences available to those of us fortunate enough to live here and maybe even inspire you to fulfill your own Western dream.
West Gold Hill Dinosaur Trackway
For decades, the Charles family traversed their dozens of acres of property in Ouray County searching for gold, their dogs often stopping to lap water that collected in potholelike depressions in a stretch of sandstone. Local kids—including a boy named Rick Trujillo, starting in the late 1950s—also wandered into the area from nearby trails and wondered about the divots. But it wasn’t until Trujillo returned to the site about 10 years ago to investigate (and, eventually, tip off a Fort Lewis College professor) that anyone understood the land’s true treasure: 134 footprints over 106 yards, left by a long-necked sauropod that made a 270-degree turn there some 150 million years ago.
Back to top. Usually, a crowd shouting, “Burn him! Burn him!” would be cause for alarm, but it’s standard procedure every
Labor Day weekend in Santa Fe , when a massive effigy named Zozobra—Spanish for distress and anxiety—is stuffed with papers representing things that bring locals despair (think: divorce forms, mortgages). The chanting continues until fireworks spew from Zozobra’s mouth, ignite his shredded-paper hair, and shower flames down his 50-foot-tall cloth, wood, and wire body.
Back to top. Annette McGivney
While lawyers prepared for the federal trial of Charles Barrett in Sacramento, journalist and author Annette McGivney was conducting her own investigation into the prominent California rock climber’s alleged history of violence, harassment, intimidation, and sexual abuse. In January—days before the court proceedings began—
Outside magazine published her year’s worth of reporting , which included poring over court documents and police reports and interviewing victims who were not going to testify. “Before the story was out, the victims were made to feel like they were exaggerating,” McGivney, who lives in southwestern Colorado, says. “It was hugely rewarding for me to honor their stories.” (In February, Barrett was found guilty of two counts of aggravated sexual abuse and one count of abusive sexual contact. In June, he was sentenced to life in prison for the rape of a woman in Yosemite National Park.)
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Autumn Harry to take you fishing, and you’ll be in for a lot more than a lesson on fly-tying. Harry, 32, is the first Numu (Northern Paiute) woman fly-fishing guide on Nevada’s Kooyooe Pa’a Panunadu, or Pyramid Lake, and she prides herself on teaching clients the culture and history of her people as they cast for Lahontan cutthroat trout in the desert basin oasis 40 miles northeast of Reno. “There’s so much to gain from learning from an Indigenous person whose homelands you’re on,” says Harry, who is also Diné, or Navajo. “Paiute women have always had this really important role in caring for the fish. It’s important for me as a Native woman to carry that forward.”
Back to top. Updating a beloved mountain lodge like the Izaak Walton Inn is a fine line to hike. The 85-year-old hotel, which sits by the southern border of Glacier National Park, needed some TLC when lodging company LOGE (Live Outside, Go Explore) bought it in 2022. But if it changed too much, the brand risked ruining Izaak Walton’s old-school charm—and alienating generations of visitors. Happily, LOGE pulled it off.
Back to top. Leslie Bahn Steen
Born and raised on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, Leslie Bahn Steen never imagined she’d become a poster woman for Jackson Hole. She was on a serious classical music career track before she got hooked on the outdoors. After earning her master’s degree in fish and wildlife management at Montana State University, she moved to Jackson and began working for Trout Unlimited, a national nonprofit devoted to protecting watersheds where trout and salmon are found. Now its state director, she oversees teams that lead 20 projects aimed at conserving cold-water fisheries. Then, in 2023, Steen co-founded the
Mountains of Color Film Festival to celebrate diversity in the filmmaking community.
Back to top. It’s been a decade since downtown Boise bustled with sword-bearing ezpata dantza performers, aka roving street musicians shaking tambourinelike panderos. But this coming July 29 through August 3, the biggest Basque festival in the United States (and, with more than 30,000 attendees, one of the largest Basque celebrations outside of the region in today’s northern Spain, where the culture originates) is back after the quinquennial event’s COVID-19 cancellation in 2020. Known simply as
Jaialdi , which translates to “big festival,” the nearly 40-year-old gathering offers a rare opportunity for Americans to experience the sacred Oñati Korpus, performed by elite Basque dancers during a Catholic Mass, and watch traditional herri kirolak competitions like stone lifting and wood chopping. Revelers can also munch on croquetas (fried balls of béchamel paste mixed with ham) and sip a kalimotxo, a drink that’s equal parts red wine and Coca-Cola.
Back to top. Chefs Zak Pelaccio and Jori Jayne Emde’s ingredient obsession extends to what they drink, which is why they opened
New Mexico’s first natural wine bar in Taos in 2022. Demand for natural wines, made from organically or biodynamically cultivated grapes that have been processed with minimal intervention, is estimated to have doubled in the United States over the past five years. Still, the husband-and-wife duo know the natty trend can feel esoteric. “To diffuse the intimidation, we created a casual space with loud music and great food, where unruly beards and jeans are welcome,” Pelaccio says.
Back to top. Bobby and Angel Massie may have met online—when the former, an offensive lineman for the Arizona Cardinals at the time, slid into the then Washington, D.C., TV journalist’s DMs—but they connected on trails and in bass-fishing boats. Then, in 2016, they visited Colorado. “We fell in love with the bucolic nature,” Angel says. They got married in Vail, bought a house in Larkspur, and became avid fly-fishers—all before Bobby joined the Denver Broncos in 2021.
Back to top. A vacation to outer space aboard Virgin Galactic is beyond most people’s budgets, but a trip to the Kemper and Ethel Marley Foundation
Astronomy Discovery Center at Lowell Observatory can transport you out of this world (much more affordably, at $35 for adult admission). A decade in the making, the three-story, 40,000-square-foot facility debuted on November 16 and features interactive spaces, including a rooftop planetarium—with heated seats and a dome that opens to Flagstaff’s famed dark skies—and a theater to rival the Sphere in Las Vegas, with its 25-foot-tall, 165-degree curved LED screen. The center, parts of which are open until 10 p.m., also includes exhibit galleries. Another building houses an open-deck observatory with six high-tech telescopes.
Back to top. Gila Wilderness
Although most people point to the 1964 Wilderness Act as the birth of our national wilderness system, its conceptual roots grow back 40 years prior. At a time when public land was perceived to have value only if it could be logged, grazed, or mined, Aldo Leopold, a then-unknown forest ranger in the remote wilds of southwest New Mexico, posed a radical idea—that the United States set aside significant acreage that should remain free from the works of man. His proposal gained traction, and in 1924, the U.S. Forest Service established the 560,000-acre Gila Wilderness.
Back to top. 100 Years of Film & Television
What would the story of a dead-shot Sundance Kid be without a vast backdrop of sagebrush desert? Or
Galaxy Quest without the showdown between Tim Allen and a rock monster in Goblin Valley State Park? These cinematic heavy hitters “lean into a sense of place,” says Virginia Pearce, director of the Utah Film Commission, so much so that “Utah almost became a character.”
Back to top. A 12,500-acre sheep and cattle ranch in Fishtail, Montana, isn’t where you’d expect to encounter large-scale artworks by the likes of Alexander Calder, Louise Nevelson, and Ai Weiwei. But
Tippet Rise Art Center , founded by philanthropists Cathy and Peter Halstead, has been defying expectations since it opened in 2016. Each summer, lucky visitors roam 15 miles of trails through an otherworldly dreamscape where sculpture, architecture, and classical music synergize. New this year, the world-class cultural institution’s offerings include concerts in the Geode, a striking Arup-designed venue composed of four triangular acoustical shelters. Clustered in a natural bowl setting, the structures’ Douglas fir–clad interiors were treated with a traditional Japanese burn-and-brush technique that scatters high-frequency sound waves. “With the Geode, we sought to find a way to provide the resonance of an indoor concert hall while surrounded by a panorama of meadows and mountains,” Cathy says.
Back to top. If you’ve spent any time on trails in the West, you’ve probably seen hikers and mountain bikers exchange dirty looks (and may have even given some side-eye yourself). But it doesn’t have to be like that—at least, according to the groups that came together to develop the
Bean Peaks Gravity Flow Trails in Prescott National Forest. Initially, plans for the $1.5 million bike-optimized trails were met with ire from hikers who just heard the word “bike.” But Robert Dal Santo, vice president of the Prescott Mountain Bike Alliance, and his team used town hall meetings and social media to explain how the trails would also feature hiker-friendly portions, and soon the community embraced the idea. “Everyone shares the vision of making Prescott a recreational nirvana,” Dal Santo says.
Back to top. Johnny Curiel
Opening his first solo restaurant, navigating a lawsuit, earning a Michelin star, and launching two more eateries: It’s been a heck of a year for
Johnny Curiel, the chef/owner of Alma Fonda Fina , a spunky LoHi spot dedicated to leveled-up fare from his native Mexico. Just three months after opening in December 2023, he and his wife and business partner, Kasie Curiel, were hit with a lawsuit from her former employer alleging a violation of a noncompete. “I thought this was going to be the shortest run of any restaurant,” he says.
Back to top. Boise’s designation as a certified Welcoming City in 2019—the third municipality in the country to earn the status from nonprofit Welcome America—has made it a safe haven for thousands of immigrants and refugees. For many of them, like the Shams sisters, who escaped the oppression of the Taliban in Afghanistan, food is their best remaining connection to home. In 2019, the four siblings—Bahar, Homeyra, Narges, and Khatera (pictured, from left)—opened
Sunshine Spice Bakery & Cafe , the city’s first Afghan eatery.
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