Spring break.
You remember spring break.
It was that annual trip where you and some friends commandeered the hell out of a 19th-century mountainside manor house and went to town on some moderately difficult hiking trails and first-class bird watching.
Oh, wait. That... wasn’t spring break.
But while we’re on the subject:
Behold the historically accurate majesty of The Outlook Lodge, a 124-year-old manse just outside of Colorado Springs that’s been transformed into your own private Xanadu, taking reservations now.
This is the kind of well-forested hideout you’d imagine Hunter S. Thompson holed up in, penning the night away and pondering the meaning of “meaning.” Antlers on the walls. Artsy photos of paint jars. That whole deal. But right now, just imagine yourself here in mid-May. On the front porch. In a rocking chair. Gazing wistfully at Pikes Peak in the distance. Gin. Stick gin somewhere in there, too.
You’ve got two options here: 1) Reserve any of the six suites for yourself. 2) Round up 15 wilderness-loving comrades and rent out the whole place. Outside: a solitary key in a solitary lockbox. Inside: not a staff member in sight. Meaning you’ll be left to your own stargazing, midnight-barbecuing, fire-pitting devices.
Oh, and if you want anything stocked before your arrival—anything at all—just ask the local host (he comes with the place), and he’ll make it happen.
Yes, even Swedish Fish.
You remember spring break.
It was that annual trip where you and some friends commandeered the hell out of a 19th-century mountainside manor house and went to town on some moderately difficult hiking trails and first-class bird watching.
Oh, wait. That... wasn’t spring break.
But while we’re on the subject:
Behold the historically accurate majesty of The Outlook Lodge, a 124-year-old manse just outside of Colorado Springs that’s been transformed into your own private Xanadu, taking reservations now.
This is the kind of well-forested hideout you’d imagine Hunter S. Thompson holed up in, penning the night away and pondering the meaning of “meaning.” Antlers on the walls. Artsy photos of paint jars. That whole deal. But right now, just imagine yourself here in mid-May. On the front porch. In a rocking chair. Gazing wistfully at Pikes Peak in the distance. Gin. Stick gin somewhere in there, too.
You’ve got two options here: 1) Reserve any of the six suites for yourself. 2) Round up 15 wilderness-loving comrades and rent out the whole place. Outside: a solitary key in a solitary lockbox. Inside: not a staff member in sight. Meaning you’ll be left to your own stargazing, midnight-barbecuing, fire-pitting devices.
Oh, and if you want anything stocked before your arrival—anything at all—just ask the local host (he comes with the place), and he’ll make it happen.
Yes, even Swedish Fish.
