Asher on Aspen: Maroon Bells by e-bike

The Maroon Bells aren’t something you just hop on a shuttle bus to see. That’s the tourist conveyor belt — jammed with sweaty bodies, the reek of sunscreen, and the hollow rattle of protein bar wrappers. A slow death in khaki shorts. The Bells deserve better than that. They demand pilgrimage, not public transit. And the only way to get there without losing your soul is on an e-bike — a machine that feels like it was built for delinquent kids and time travelers alike. Half toy, half rocket, all freedom.

We set off at Koch Park, where Silver City Cycles had delivered the bikes straight to us — a wildly convenient service they offer. They’ll drop e-bikes anywhere you prefer in town, eliminating all the logistical headaches. Koch Park was the perfect central rally point, just two blocks from the trailhead. The bikes arrived lined up like shiny stallions, each equipped with a small pack for snacks and water. Best of all, the whole operation runs almost entirely on solar power, so every pedal up the mountain came straight from the sun.

My cousin Katie was visiting with her three kids — ages 9 to 15 — along with our cousins Charlie and David, who are 16 and 17 and live here in Aspen. That made for one kid, two adults, and four teenagers. I’ll admit, I was a little nervous about managing a group that big on bikes up a mountain road, but once we started pedaling and felt the e-bikes kick in, any hesitation melted away.

The e-bike does something strange to your brain. You press the pedals and suddenly you’re 9 years old again, barreling through the neighborhood without rules, without licenses, without helmets if you were lucky. Your bike was freedom then — your first car, your first hit of freedom. The e-bike resurrects that feeling, only now it’s turbocharged. Each push of the pedal comes back with a roar of momentum, like a hidden hand shoving you forward. You laugh out loud without meaning to. You grin like a lunatic. And before you realize it, you’re flying.

The road to the Maroon Bells is a long, glorious climb through the Maroon Creek Valley. The new bike path out of Aspen is foolproof: A bold, lime-green stripe cuts down the middle like a lifeline, guiding you past sparkling rivers and groves of aspen trees. The air smells like pine needles and cold stone, impossibly fresh — the kind of crisp, clean air you can only find in the high mountains.

The Maroon Bells aren’t just peaks — they’re colossal, wine-colored spires clawing more than 14,000 feet into the sky. Widely considered the most photographed peaks in North America, they draw cameras for a reason — and for once, the photos don’t lie. They sit mirrored in the glacial calm of Maroon Lake, rising like a challenge to anyone daring to look away. Every time I see them, my chest tightens and my stomach flips, like standing in the front pew of nature’s cathedral, humbled by its scale.

We left the bikes at the top and started up the Crater Lake Trail. The group quickly scattered — some charging ahead, others lagging behind — until I found myself walking with my 13-year-old cousin, Asher. She told me about her 4H club, the clothes she sewed for the Nebraska State Fair, the small-town dramas, and how excited she was for her Aunt Jamie’s visit. For all the chaos around us, that stretch felt sacred. It was one of those rare moments where the noise of life drops out and you suddenly see someone — not as “the kid cousin,” but as a whole human coming into focus.

The ride home was pure descent — gravity in charge, the e-bikes only humming when we craved more speed. Wind slapped our faces, the road blurred beneath us, and the valley opened wide as we tore downhill, flying down the road, free and unstoppable. By the time we collapsed into chairs at Highlands Alehouse, it felt like we’d survived some great voyage — devouring pizza, downing cold drinks, and laughing as the kids recounted their “war stories” of races won, near crashes avoided, and the brutal uphill climb.

If you live in Aspen and you don’t take your guests to the Bells on e-bikes in the summertime, you’ve failed them. Driving is cheating. The bus is a cop-out. But the e-bike — yes, the e-bike — is the golden ticket. It’s sweat and speed and sunlight in your veins, the closest thing to flight you can buy for an afternoon. And if you want the best experience, rent from Silver City Cycles — they delivered our bikes right to us, the fleet runs almost entirely on solar power, and the service is unbeatable.

At the end of it all, you don’t just see the Maroon Bells — you stand there, chest heaving, knowing you’ve earned every inch of that view.