As I drove up the winding canyon road, the rain drops turned chunkier. The rain was starting to turn to snow. Not only that, but fog started to rise off the pavement, swirling into the air as if vapor were coming off the top of the cook kettle. The higher I drove into the mountains, the thicker the fog seemed to get. Fog in Colorado, what gives?
I lived in San Francisco for four years, and fog was part of the daily routine. Each day in the summertime, the fog would make its way down the streets of San Francisco, cooling the air and obscuring the city skyline. Fog in San Francisco is part of summer, and the rolling of the fog every afternoon is part of its ritual.
But fog in Colorado is indicative of something else — springtime in the high country. As the sun rises higher in the sky, it warms the ground, and the roads. They are not longer the frigid, cold surfaces they were in mid-winter. But spring can also bring mega snowstorms, as moisture funnels in from the Gulf of Mexico. Combine that moisture with a cold front sagging down from the north, and you’ve got all the ingredients for an upslope snowstorm.
As the air cools over the warm roads and surfaces, a ground fog forms — first tufts of air circle over the roads, but the higher I go, the thicker that fog becomes. By the time I arrive in Nederland, the ground fog has become so thick I can hardly see in 25 feet in front of the car. I’m thankful, I’ve driven the route home so often, I drive virtually on auto-pilot, with every turn ingrained in my head.
This fog could be the precursor of something much whiter and more treacherous to drive in — the typical, Colorado spring snowstorm.
