We live up the drive. You'll hardly know it.

We came to Woody Creek for a winter and stayed for the rest. The ranch was a project first — the barn, the pond, the fences — and the guest house came later, when friends kept asking if they could come back.

We're not a hotel and don't pretend to be. There's no front desk; there's us, a text message away, and a kitchen stocked with coffee and eggs when you arrive. We'll point you at the trail, the fishing hole and the table at the Tavern, then get out of your way.

Why Woody Creek? It's Aspen without the valet. Quiet roads, real neighbors, the same mountains, twenty minutes closer to the sky.