Updated August 1, 2025 06:39PM
Destinations & Things To Do
This Is the Most Beautiful Town in Colorado
The place could live on location alone. Yet it also has historic architecture, a great main street, and world-class festivals.
Telluride Colorado during the fall season (Photo: Jonathan Ross/Getty)
Each time.
Whenever I come home from visiting a certain town in my state of Colorado, I look around at the wide basin where I live, punctuated by the one looming peak that is the symbol of this old mining community, and wonder, Where are all the goddamn mountains?
I live in Carbondale, under the gaze of the 12,965-foot, twin-summited Mount Sopris, jutting high above the river valley and ranchlands. From its peak, which stands alone in our sky (a 14-mile round-trip hike I try to do each year), you can see everything: up the Roaring Fork River Valley to Aspen, 30 miles away; downvalley to Glenwood Springs; and across to the Elk Range. From the Flattops above Dotsero, an hour away on the Colorado River, I’ve looked across and been startled by the isolated, shoulder-y hulk of Sopris.
Though it pains me to be disloyal to the place where I live, I must take off my hat to this other Colorado town: Telluride, which I recently visited for the 15th time. The visuals and anticipation always zing me as I drive down from Delta and Montrose toward the gateway town of Ridgway and first see the jagged skyline crowned by the pyramid of Mount Sneffels, at 14,155 feet the highest peak in the Sneffels Range, part of the San Juan Mountains. I roll down that long hill, turn right at the only stoplight in Ouray County, and start the steady rise up Dallas Divide. That last part of the drive always feels shorter than expected.
Then I’m there: entering the deep valley, enclosed and folded in by the soaring box canyon, a waterfall ripping down its walls. Mountains shoot up in every direction. The road before me curves into the jewel that is Telluride.
An old Victorian mining town, Telluride sits at 8,750 feet, with a gondola arcing up over the ski slopes to Mountain Village, situated even higher at 9,547. The architecture in its National Historic District is quaint and congruent, the Victorian homes recalling the latticed Gold Rush cabins of yore. The red-brick Sheridan Opera House (built in 1913) and the old Nugget Building with its arched windows and striped canopies (1892) are familiar, welcoming forms.
In a dream of mountain grandeur, Ajax Peak dominates the view as you approach town, and faces of granite, conglomerate, and sunny sandstone—red rock, gray rock, in horizontal striations—encircle the canyon. Deep green forests run up the slopes, and bright snowy couloirs interlace the whole network.
With friends, I’ve climbed on the rock walls and boulders (last time hiking up to the Falls Wall, level with the 365-foot Bridal Veil Falls), and hiked the classic three-mile Jud Wiebe trail, looping up through aspen, ponderosa, and spruce, and opening to wildflower meadows, with widening views of downtown Telluride, the ski area, Bear Creek, Ballard Mountain, La Junta Peak, and Wasatch Mountain.
On both sides of the Telluride Ski Resort are the slopes where my husband and friends and I have skied and our kids used to ski race, and where the boys also raced mountain bikes each summer. One winter, from the meadows above a high pass outside of town, I snowshoed up to the towering spire of Lizard Head.
Back near Ridgway, my husband, Mike, and I have camped in the Ouray Town Park, where he was up at 3:00 a.m. to pace his friend Garett Graubins 25 miles over to Telluride as part of the Hardrock 100 endurance race in the San Juans. Garett, who in the past had placed in the top 10 in ultras, was now living in Minnesota and no longer acclimated, but he had gotten a prized entry and wanted to come.
He arrived in Ouray, mile 50, ashen and vomiting, lay on a cot doing his best to ingest some mashed potatoes, and asked me to warn his wife and son, who would be at the aid station in Telluride, that he might drop there. A few hours later, when I found Holly and Sawyer in the Telluride Town Park and delivered the message, their faces dropped. “Really?”
We three waited and worried. Garett and Mike were to tackle the steep scree slopes up and down from Kroger’s Canteen, an aid station named for a beloved local, Chuck Kroger, who personified this race and was lost to cancer in 2007. Chuck, a Stanford geophysics grad, also meticulously and not entirely legally created Telluride’s now celebrated two-mile via ferrata. Kroger’s Canteen, at 13,000-plus feet, is the race’s highest aid station, and workers pack the supplies up the col every year.
As Garett and Mike neared Telluride, we spotted their shirt colors, strained in silence to see their faces. They arrived smiling. Chatting.
Garett leaned back on a picnic bench and beamed—and then looked at his watch and leapt up. “I’ve gotta get going!” His new pacer hopped in, while Mike turned to fretting, getting up all night at our friend’s house to check times, hoping Garett would make the two-day cutoff. Garett finished in 46:07:52.
One of my favorite bike events used to be the Full Tilt in Telluride each July. Our sons, Ted and Roy, raced mountain bikes in their age divisions, Mike would sometimes enter an adult rec division, and I’d hike or climb. We and other families and friends stayed in the campground by the Town Park. The kids could ride around independently and take the free gondola to Mountain Village, where race activity centered.
Telluride is an expensive destination, and Mountain Village is studded with five-star hotels, but the area has always had great camping options. It has also always had a local community of hard-core athletes and solid all-arounders: runners, rock and ice climbers, kayakers, and skiers, the latter including various lifelong devotees, emergent high school and college racers, and ski mountaineers pulling multiple-hour approaches to no-fall couloirs.
I have heard some locals say they avoid restaurants on weekends due to crowds, but they still go to their coffee shops, like the Phoenix Bean, which closed last fall after 30 busy years. Now Bruno, which doubles as a bookstore, and the Coffee Cowboy, by the gondola, are local faves. Bakeries, such as Baked in Telluride, founded by the laid-back skier Jerry Greene in 1977, are community hubs as well.
My memories of the area are not all good. Mountain life and sports carry risks and can dole out terrible luck. The first year I went to the Mountainfilm festival—an annual late-May gathering that brings in great outdoor films and filmmakers—in 1989, my friend and housemate Katie Kemble was hit by rockfall at the base of the 1,000-foot Ophir Wall as she belayed another climber. The news trickled in as baffling drabs. She had “broken her leg,” been taken away in a truck, been helicoptered to Grand Junction. She had, I found out in a phone call from her climbing partner Ric Hatch—who’d carried her out from the cliff as she held her near-severed leg on with both hands—been “taken into surgery to have her leg amputated.”
I left Telluride after one day there to go to Junction, an excruciating drive. Julie Kennedy, also from Carbondale and visiting with our crew, jumped in my car, saying, “You’re not going alone.” We arrived to find Katie just being wheeled out of surgery, and Julie, Ric, and I danced with joy to hear that due to the two-finger-wide remaining section, the surgeon had reattached her leg. Yet this was no simple blessing. Katie spent months in the hospital, underwent dozens of surgeries, and is still affected, but has gone on to have a family and a great life as a nurse practitioner who also started a nonprofit, the EASE Cancer Foundation.
Another time at Mountainfilm, in 2018, I was planning to stay with my friend Charlotte Fox, with whom I used to climb when she lived in Aspen. I had stayed at her Telluride place (built by Chuck Kroger) a couple of times, once about ten years earlier with my son Roy, then age 11 or 12, for a junior ski race. Roy rode up and down the elevator—“Oh, all the kids do,” Charlotte said with a smile and shrug—in her narrow, five-story house, and he lay on the floor petting her avalanche dog, Max. She and I had coffee out on her deck overlooking the whole town, across to the ski slopes.
The night before my intended recent visit, Charlotte, who’d summited and survived the Everest disaster of 1996 and also climbed Dhaulagiri, Cho Oyu, Gasherbrum II, and Manaslu (doing five of the world’s 14 8000-meter peaks, and many other mountains), died in a fall on her steep stairs. Even still, though it’s been five years, I keep hearing of more of her kindnesses. My friend Randy Levensaler just told me that when he lived in Carbondale and was dating a Telluride local, and as an outsider would shyly enter dinner gatherings, Charlotte would call out his name and pat the chair beside her. “Randy! I’ve got a seat for you right here!”
Thankfully, there have been many good, uneventful Telluride trips. It’s a town with joyous festivals and gatherings, including the summer Bluegrass Festival (which turned 50 this year) and the Telluride Film Festival as well as Mountainfilm. The latter I have been to (at least) five times, once with friends when all our kids were tiny, many years seeing exceptional films, and a couple of times climbing on the Pipeline Wall, which offers some of the biggest views in the valley.
This past May I arrived in Telluride in a new job at Outside and with a new team of coworkers. But some things were the same, like looking up from the streets in town and seeing the waterfall moving from two miles away. Among my crew, I was not the first to arrive, but I was the last to leave. I walked down to the final awards ceremony in the Town Park, and watched my friend and long-ago intern (at Rock and Ice magazine) Andrew Bisharat take the stage with four Palestinian climber friends, in the U.S. on miraculous visas, as their resonant film Resistance Climbing won the Charlie Fowler Best Adventure Film memorial award. Through a Mountainfilm-Telluride Academy partnership, youth from Navajo Preparatory School, Telluride High School, and Nucla High School named the powerful Full Circle as their Student Choice Award, announced by Makayla Yazzie from Navajo Prep and Akymia Ralstin of Nucla.
Leaving town, I caught a visiting bonsai exhibit at the Slate Gray Gallery on Main Street, just in time before the trees were loaded up in a truck for home. Telluride, like Aspen, has a longstanding creative arts and culture scene. The ski area is primo and vast, though I still claim our Aspen Highlands, with its hike-to Highland Bowl, as the state’s best resort skiing. But the sheer sight of Telluride—the tableau—always gets me.
Each time, I leave with regret. But I usually stop in Ridgway to say hi to Jim McCarthy, 90, who climbed historic first ascents in the Shawangunks, New York; was on the 1963 first ascent of Mount Proboscis in the Yukon; and was instrumental in opening the once-selective American Alpine Club up to anyone who wanted to join. We sit on his back deck and look out together at the Sneffels skyline.
Alison Osius is a senior editor at Outside.
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Last night I had made plans with Taylor to get a ride back to trail this morning around 6:30 AM. My hope is to be hiking north once again right around 7 AM. Which considering I stayed in town last night, is about as good as it’s going to get. It was hard waking up this morning because I stayed up super late last night. But I had bought myself a giant piece of raspberry cake which I ate for breakfast. That sure helped. Then Taylor drove me back to trail.
Even though I didn’t spend a ton of time in Quincy last night, that was absolutely amazing. It’s crazy how just sleeping in a bed and taking a shower can be such a major reset. Even after doing a big day and not getting much rest. It definitely feels like more of a reset than just ending the day in my tent for the night. Plus, I got to get in tons of calories last night.
Now today, I am only about 23 miles from the town of Belden. A tiny town with a general store, motel, and RV park, which the trail passes right through. And the overall structure of the day today is actually very similar to yesterday. The first 23 miles of the day there isn’t a ton of elevation gain. I think I’ll have one or two small climbs. Then I drop down 4000 feet to get into Belden. And leaving Belden I have to climb back up 4000 feet again.
The views through the Dixie burn are beautiful in their own way. You just need to change your perspective a little bit.
The morning wound up being really nice and easy. Plus the temperature was super cool. When I was in this part of Northern California in 2022 it was during a heat wave. And this area is just absolutely brutal when it’s over 100°. Because of all the damage from the Dixie burn there really isn’t a lot of coverage. So I’m incredibly grateful that this time around my experience has been the polar opposite. The temperature has been really moderate most days and even cool at times.
Yesterday it felt like there were a ton of blowdown along the trail, and I went through a good bit of fire damage. But today it was basically all fire damage all day. The entire trail is just completely burnt, and the trees are left behind like a little black toothpicks. Some sections of trail do have a good bit of new growth. But shocking other sections of the trail really don’t.
About 4 miles into the day I crossed over another major road. This is the second road where you can hitch into Quincy. And it’s the recommended road for hitching into Quincy because it’s a lot more populated than the road that I got picked up that last night. After crossing over the road, I began a very gradual climb for the next few miles. Then I was basically just up for a while riding along the ridge. Even though I was mostly just looking at burn, I did get some really beautiful views of Bucks Lake in the distance. I can only imagine what the Bucks Lake wilderness looked like prior to this fire. It must have been really beautiful.
The walking today felt a little monotonous at times. But on a bright side, it also felt like the time went by really quickly. It looked like I would be getting into Belden before 4 PM. Which was amazing because I was planning on going in and out quickly and then hopefully doing another 10–12 miles. I was also really dreading the descent into Belden. In 2022 this is where Peg Leg came to be. I was having really mild IT band problems prior to this decent. Then the trail dropped 4000 feet over 5 miles into Belden. And I think on that downhill I was going about a mile an hour.
I wound up spending a couple days at the RV park in Belden. Then somehow continued along and made it to the town of Chester. In Chester, I took another few days off for injury and eventually got everything sorted and started my road to recovery. It’s just so funny being back here where the name was born. This time around though I was pleasantly surprised by the downhill. It was graded really well and wasn’t nearly as bad as I remembered. I actually wound up enjoying it honestly.
I got down into Belden just before 4 PM and headed into the store. OutsideJay had left me a box with some resupply goodies. I also bought some cold drinks and soda. I knew it was going to be a very hot and exposed climb coming out of town. So I wanted to hydrate a bunch and also take a lot of goodies with me.
In my memory, I picture this porch covered in hikers hiding from the heat of the day. But today when I arrived, there wasn’t a soul in sight.
At this point, I was planning on potentially doing this entire upcoming climb this evening. It was about 13 miles of uphill. So I chugged a Red Bull, ate an ice cream, and got rolling. I had seen one other backpack outside of the store while I was there, but the hiker never came by. Not long after I got moving again, though, they came running up behind me. They must’ve asked the clerk about me or something like that. Because the clerk told them my name and I think they came to catch up to me.
This hikers name was Data, and our paths actually crossed earlier in the year. There was one late night where I set up my tent by a water source with one other tent nearby. Apparently next to him and his wife’s tent. The next morning when they got up, I was super apologetic about whether I might have woken them up the night before. But they said they hadn’t even heard me. Since then, his wife has gotten off trail because of a combination of things. But he’s planning on continuing to finish.
We got to talking and then fell in line together and making our way up the climb. I think sometimes it’s hard for me to hike with other people. I simultaneously crave the connection while also craving the routine that I’ve created for myself. I find it really easy to hike by myself, make big miles, and allow time to slip away. I think sometimes when I hike with other people that time also flies by quickly. And sometimes when I hike with other people, it makes it more difficult for time to go by quickly. That might not make a lot of sense, but it’s just something that I’ve thought about recently. Every instance is different.
It was nice having someone to talk to and we walked and talked for the next few hours. The climb was graded pretty well, which allowed us to keep chatting. We were basically just continuously going uphill for the entire rest of the day. Thought it was the perfect time a day and was starting to get a little cooler. We also started getting brief segments of shaded trail. As the day went on the trail would get more and more shaded as well.
An hour or two after leaving Beldon though I took a really bad fall. It was just one of those perfect falls where your foot get stuck on some thing and you’re not able to free it. But my backpack is super light right now so I’m hiking without my hip belt attached. Which means when I fell forward, my backpack basically tried to jump up and over me. Which just made for a much harder hit onto the dirt and rock covered trail.
I knew almost immediately that I was completely fine. I could tell I had definitely roughed myself up a bit, but hadn’t done any major damage. Data seemed super concerned as I sat there on the ground. But I just always need to take a minute and slowly get up on my own.
A couple days ago I took a soft fall and scraped my knee a little bit. Now this time I re-scraped the knee and had ripped all of the skin off. So that was bleeding a little bit. But it definitely didn’t hurt as bad as the time earlier this year when I fell and smashed my knee on a rock. The only other damage done was that I smashed my left hand into a rock or onto the hard ground. It was super sore pretty much right away. But considering how hard I hit the ground, that actually didn’t seem to be too much damage.
We kept moving after that and the climb just went on and on. As time went on, though, I could definitely tell that my left hand was more hurt than I’d realize. It was very clear that it wasn’t broken. I took a similar fall on the Appalachian Trail in 2023 and my right hand hit a rock so hard that it turned purple almost immediately. This was clearly not as bad as that. And that also wasn’t broken. But over the next hour or two my hand started to throb and was incredibly uncomfortable. I also basically couldn’t use my left hand at all for anything. Which meant I couldn’t take my water bottle out of my pockets or do just about anything with my hand.
As we continued up the climb, the trail crossed over a lot of water crossings. A couple of them were a little bit tricky to get across with dry feet. I had actually read someone’s comment that they wished they had just gotten their feet wet because they hurt themselves doing one of the crossings. And at one point when I was crossing one particularly easy river I made a grave error.
I stepped out onto a rock that seemed super sturdy. But it was slick like oil and I just couldn’t tell. When I actually put weight onto it, my foot immediately slipped off of it, and I fell sideways partially into the river and partially onto some rocks. Once again, it was the type of fall that I knew immediately that I was ok. Honestly, the worst part was now half of my body was wet at 7 PM.
Data was behind me and saw this happen and ran over so quick. I thought it was hilarious that this man was here to witness two of the only falls I’ve taken in the last thousand miles. He seemed so incredibly concerned when he ran up to me. But I said that I was definitely fine, just soaking wet. The only thing that I did notice right away is that I had hit my right hand on a rock when I went down. I had a couple cuts on two of my fingers from smashing into a rock. So now both of my hands were sore.
On the bright side, it was only 7 PM and we were planning on hiking until just around dark. Which meant I had plenty of time to dry out before camp. I figured I’d still be a little damp later, but definitely not as wet as I was after falling in the river. It seemed like Data was originally planning on doing a slightly shorter day. But I said I was going to go up to the top of the climb and he wanted to tag along. Sometimes it’s easier to hike later into the evening or go further when you’re hiking with somebody else.
The last couple hours of the day the trail was basically the same as it had been. The elevation gain wasn’t too bad and was just very continuous. Honestly, though, I was feeling super sore after the two falls. Both my hands were throbbing and my right knee really hurt. It was scraped open and bleeding. Neither fall was that particularly bad. But it’s always jarring and bruises you up a little bit to say the least. I was definitely excited to get to camp for the night.
We wound up grabbing water a couple miles before the end of the day. Then had the freedom to continue up to the top of the climb and camp wherever we wanted to. As we continued along, the sun began to set, and it was absolutely beautiful. Then just before it got dark, we got up to the top of the climb. The views of the sunset from up there or even better. Unfortunately, there weren’t a ton of flat spots anywhere anywhere nearby. We just kept walking and walking and hoping we would find something. But eventually we went past some mediocre spots and decided to make the most of them. It just didn’t seem like we were going to be getting a significantly better option anytime soon.
It felt really good to be done for the day to finally be able to lay down. But setting up camp was already ridiculously annoying with my bad hand. You don’t really realize how much you use both of your hands until you can’t use one of them. This is exactly what happened on the AT in 2023 when I bruised my other hand. I’m just hoping that it feels significantly better tomorrow.
Of course, though, after everything that transpired today, the possibility of taking a zero on Friday was sounding a whole lot better. And there was a slight change of plans today that made that dream seemed like a possibility. OutsideJay texted me today and asked if I wanted him to put me in touch with any Trail Angel’s from Chester. I told him that I was contemplating taking a zero on Friday but that there were no rooms available in town. He said he was on it and he would find a person to host me for the night on Friday. So it looks like I might get that zero day after all!
Inside my tent, I didn’t have the energy to do hot dinner. I just decided to eat a bunch of snacks instead. I also didn’t have service so I wasn’t able to do too much on my phone. But I got a little bit of writing and video work done before calling it a night. Thanks to doing a big mile day today, now tomorrow I’m only 31 miles out from Chester.
My plan for tomorrow is to start early and get into town as quickly as possible. I’m going to stay in a room tomorrow night, which will be nice. I’ll be able to get a bunch of writing and video work done and enjoy some privacy. Then the following day, I will hopefully be staying with someone in Chester for the night. Jay makes magic happen so I know that I don’t have to have all of the details to have faith that it will work out.
If you enjoyed this blog and would like to support my hike by buying me a soda or a snack along the way, there is a “Tip the Author” button below! It links directly to my Venmo. Any and all support is incredibly appreciated!
Our journey began on July 2nd as we made our way up to Harts Pass – thank you to trail angels Ani & Tigger for the local tour and ride up from Bellevue, WA!
We checked in with Ranger Terry at the Harts Pass Ranger Station and then began the 30 mile walk to the US/Canadian border. The trail was stunning from Harts Pass -> Canadian Border – as lifelong east coasters this is our first time on the west coast and we are thrilled to be here.
On July 3rd we arrived to the northern terminus monument at 6:00 pm and hiked 3.7 miles (officially heading south now) – if we hiked this mileage every day we wouldn’t arrive to the US/Mexico border until next June!
The section from the border to Stehikin was one of our favorite parts of Washington and we are already making plans to return. Rocky and Woody Pass were one of my favorite areas. We saw lots of hummingbirds, marmots, wildflowers, and hung out with lots and lots of mosquitoes.
After the first 100 miles, our time in Washington seemed to go by quicker and quicker. We swam in endless pristine back country lakes, hiked over pass after pass, walked through old growth forests, and hiked around volcano after volcano. We stopped in the towns of Stehikin, Leavenworth, Snoqualmie Pass, White Pass, and Trout Lake and were so appreciative to those who helped us out (Right Time, WAC volunteer – helped Matt get new trail runners, Jo Ellen, and so forth).
We are taking a couple of days in Cascade Locks to rest up before heading through Oregon! We have been loving the trail and are so grateful to share this experience with one another. We are realizing just how fast this journey will go so are taking everything in as much as possible. We are thankful for all of the love and support from family, friends, and folks we’ve meet along the trail! Looking forward to Oregon and hopefully meeting up with some friends.
For more updates follow along on IG or Facebook @ashleydefayette
Happy Trails
~Matt & Ashley
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Sunday, August 3, 2025
Located in the heart of Utah, Heber Valley is a hidden gem that offers a great mix of outdoor adventures, rich history, and family-friendly activities. Whether you’re after an adrenaline rush, a peaceful nature retreat, or a look into the region’s culture, Heber Valley has something for every traveler. Nestled between the Wasatch Mountains, the valley features stunning landscapes, charming small towns, and a range of attractions for all ages. From scenic train rides to hiking trails and from cultural venues to lakeside activities, Heber Valley is a must-visit destination in any season.
Scenic Train Rides: A Unique Experience on Heber Valley Railroad
One of the best ways to experience Heber Valley is on the Heber Valley Railroad, a heritage railway that runs year-round. The train journey through Provo Canyon offers some of the most beautiful views of the valley, including the majestic Mount Timpanogos, Cascade Mountain, and the sparkling Provo River. The ride itself is immersive; passengers can listen to the train’s whistle and take in the surrounding landscape as they relax.
For those wanting a touch of holiday magic, the Heber Valley Railroad offers special themed rides like the “Polar Express” during winter. This festive ride brings the classic holiday story to life with decorations, hot cocoa, and a visit from Santa, making it a favorite among families. Whether you enjoy breathtaking views in summer or the festive spirit in winter, the Heber Valley Railroad is a unique way to see the valley.
Outdoor Adventures: Soldier Hollow and Mirror Lake Highway
For those seeking outdoor fun, Heber Valley is a paradise. Soldier Hollow, located in the valley, offers a range of activities throughout the year. In winter, it becomes a great spot for cross-country skiing and tubing. During warmer months, it turns into a popular location for mountain biking and hiking. With its stunning views of the surrounding mountains and valleys, Soldier Hollow is perfect for outdoor enthusiasts to indulge in their favorite activities.
In addition to Soldier Hollow, Mirror Lake Highway is a scenic route that offers some of the best views in the area. This highway winds through the Wasatch Mountains and gives access to numerous alpine lakes, ideal for fishing, picnicking, or wildlife watching. The area is particularly beautiful in the fall when the leaves change colors and add vibrancy to the already picturesque landscape. Mirror Lake Highway is great for anyone wanting to experience Heber Valley’s natural beauty.
Cultural Experiences: Heber Amusement Hall and the Timpanogos Valley Theatre
Beyond its natural wonders, Heber Valley also has a rich cultural scene. One of the valley’s historic gems is the Heber Amusement Hall, a venue that has been a center for community events since 1908. The hall hosts the Timpanogos Valley Theatre, where visitors can enjoy local performances, plays, and musical productions that showcase the region’s artistic talent.
The Heber Amusement Hall reminds us of the valley’s deep-rooted history and its commitment to arts and culture. Whether you’re attending a theater production, a local concert, or a community event, the hall provides a great opportunity to engage with the local culture and enjoy the region’s creative spirit.
Family Fun: Deer Creek Reservoir and Heber City Park
Families looking for a fun day outdoors can head to Deer Creek Reservoir, located just outside of Heber City. The reservoir is popular for boating, fishing, and picnicking, offering a relaxing environment to spend a day by the water. Whether you’re renting a boat to explore the lake or just enjoying the shore, Deer Creek Reservoir is perfect for family getaways.
Heber City Park also offers plenty for families to relax and have fun. The park features playgrounds for children, sports fields for outdoor games, and walking paths for a stroll. It’s an ideal spot to spend a day with family, enjoying the fresh air and peaceful surroundings.
Conclusion: Heber Valley – A Place for Everyone
Heber Valley, Utah, is a destination that has something for everyone, regardless of interests or the season. From the scenic train rides on the Heber Valley Railroad to thrilling outdoor adventures at Soldier Hollow and Mirror Lake Highway, the valley is a year-round playground for all ages. With cultural richness found in the Heber Amusement Hall and relaxing family fun at Deer Creek Reservoir and Heber City Park, it’s clear why Heber Valley is an unforgettable destination.
Whether you seek adventure, relaxation, or a cultural experience, Heber Valley offers it all. Plan your visit today and immerse yourself in the beauty and charm of this hidden gem in Utah. With something for everyone, Heber Valley is waiting to be explored any time of the year.
(Source: Heber Valley Tourism, Heber Valley Railroad, Soldier Hollow, Mirror Lake Highway, Deer Creek Reservoir, Timpanogos Valley Theatre, Heber City Park)
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