The Stanley Hotel-Estes Park
When the idea of writing a blog about boutique hotels came to mind, one of the first I wanted to be sure to include was a profile of The Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado. The hotel has such a unique history and such an iconic place in pop culture, I couldn’t resist. The Stanley Hotel is also a part of my personal history as it was one of Dave’s and my stops on our honeymoon where we stayed for a few days.
I’m not going to regurgitate the hotel’s history and significance to anyone who considers themselves a fan of Stephen King or The Simpsons. I find an insider’s view far more interesting. And you can expect no less from me here.
Dave and I enjoy long-leisurely road trips, the kind where you the drive is just as significant as the destination. An professional academic, my husband prepared a playlist of Stanley-specific podcasts for us to listen to as we traveled from Kansas to Colorado. By the time we arrived, we were well versed on all the folk stories, supernatural lore, and urban legend evolution as the hotel changed hands and perspectives. At the time of our visit, a marketing shift had re-written many of the hotel’s stories from dark and foreboding to friendly and benign. As scary as this may sound to Shining fans, this isn’t that unusual. Many hotels have found steering away from a ghostly image is better for business. But Dave and I agreed The Stanley Hotel did an excellent job of balancing both the family-friendly tourist trap and the horror and freak followers.
We pulled into Estes Park around nine in the evening, well after dark. The trip had been relatively uneventful except for a couple construction delays we encountered as we neared the town. The waits we experienced were excessive. Dave and I are both used to flagmen and construction crews stopping traffic so to allow oncoming cars to use the same lanes, but crews in our part of the country stop traffic for no more than ten minutes at a time. Colorado road crews must switch directions of road traffic when they run out of moving cars. We sat in line for twenty minutes the first time, close to thirty minutes the second. So I was eager to reach the hotel by the time we emerged from construction-Dave even more so. He practically chewed on the steering wheel in frustration as we pulled into Estes Park.
Not that we recognized the town right away. Estes Park was plunged in darkness. At first, we thought we had perhaps arrived as the town experienced a power outage, but this was not the case. The town simply didn’t have its street lights on-even though we could see the silhouettes of lamp posts reflecting the lights from our Jeep. We experienced much of the same as we circled the town and entered the grounds of The Stanley Hotel itself. None of their street lights-or sign lights we on either.
This wouldn’t be a big problem for an average hotel where the confines of the building are well defined and all you have to worry about is where to park and where to enter. But The Stanley isn’t like that. It’s a sprawling campus of similar-looking buildings. There is a separate restaurant, a residential condominium site, an event center, an outbuilding of specialty suites, and parking lots and gardens scattered throughout. With no lights to illuminate our way, we had no idea where to go. And Google? It announced we had arrived when we pulled into the main driveway before it cut out. We made our way slowly and cautiously through the maze of driveways, stopping every once in a while to shine a light from our cell phones and read the signs.
With our budget in mind, we avoided splurging on a specific suite or room and were very pleased to acquire a room on the fourth floor without any special request or cost. The fourth floor is known for being particularly spiritually active. Stories go that during a time when the privileged elite took the family to a resort getaway, parents would book a room for themselves and adjourn to the sprawling grounds, ballroom and other amenities and leave their kids and the nanny on the fourth floor in virtual abandonment. It is said that the younger guests ran amok on the fourth floor in unrestrained chaos. As a parent myself, I can see the arrangement attractive from both ends and while I’m sure it wouldn’t have been advertised openly, I have no doubt a few whispers would have been motivating.
Our room was quaint and homy. Located at the front of the hotel with a small dormer as the only window, the ceiling was close and in some places obstructive. Seating and closets were strategically placed where it would be more difficult to stand. The same layout was used in the bathroom with the arrangement of the toilet versus the shower so while the ceiling was a concern for those concerned with unexpectedly smacking their heads, it was never an issue. The drafts and climate concerns that go hand-in-hand with older houses half the hotel’s age and size were reasonably remedied with the addition of a portable heat and air conditioning unit. This too, was placed in the lower corner of the room. The furnishings were older without being opulent. The television on the dresser had a basic cable package one would find at any hotel with the addition of a Stanley channel that rolled continuous advertising of hotel-specific entertainments. The hotel places a great emphasis on it’s value as an entertainment destination. Secondary entrances were adorned with posters of comedians and other upcoming events.
We did experience our own supernatural event while staying there the first night. At eleven thirty, Dave and I were startled by the thunderous sound of laughing children tearing down the hallway. We opened the door to find nothing there. Nor was there any way we would have heard the footfalls of anyone running by. Over the next couple days, we saw plenty of people run and walk past without hearing them at all-whether our door was open or closed. In my own ‘scientific’ experiment, I jumped up and down furiously right outside our door and bounced back and forth down the hallway attempting to recreate the commotion myself. No luck.
At three am that same day, Dave was awoken by light and sounds of a lamp and the television turning on spontaneously. A centered man who can handle anything before him, my darling husband simply sighed and said, “Thank you, but we’re good for now.” As he rolled over to return to his slumber, the lights and television turned off in the same manner as before.
For such an old and open structure, the hotel is surprisingly quiet. Quite the opposite of modern Hyatts and Holiday Inns, The Stanley Hotel is a place where you barely hear other guests-even the ones staying nearby.
The upper levels are restricted to hotel guests only, a welcome security measure, but the main floor is a space to behold in itself. Although roped off, the hotel’s ball room is still able to view from the lobby as well as many of the original furnishings and adornments. A gift shop off to the side hawks the hotel’s logoed ware. A formal restaurant with a gourmet menu and many locally-inspired dishes is a must stop. Dave and I were eager to visit the hotel’s bar which wasn’t used in the movie The Shining, but was still a place we wanted to be sure to stop. Who can resist a chance to sit at the bar, cocktail in hand, and look in the mirror and say, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy”?
The lower floor is home to a coffee shop, a hotel replica used in the miniseries version of the Shining, a high-end wine and liquor shop and a ticket booth and meeting area for the hotel’s various tours. We explored all of them. While it would be easy to drop excessive cash in each of them, visitors can avoid a scare in their wallet by making careful, but not horrific choices. Many great experiences like walking the grounds, enjoying the patio and exploring the gardens are free.
Dave and I did take part in one of The Stanley’s nightly ghost tours. Aside from learning the official version of many of the stories we had heard during the drive, the tour allowed us a chance to see even more of the hotel’s grounds. As an admirer of old homes and buildings, that was a treat by itself. The tour also allowed for frequent breaks at which participants were allowed to take pictures in hopes of collecting additional ghost evidence. Dave and I didn’t get anything on camera, but one of our fellow tourists may have. She and my husband were taking pictures of the same spot during our time exploring the underground tunnels beneath the hotel. Nothing unusual appeared in Dave’s shot of the shadowy, dirt-lined walls. Hers included two symmetrical reflective lights, resembling eyes.
Creepy, huh?
My takeaway: stay for a weekend, longer would be a horror show for your wallet.
Do you have a hotel or inn you think I should review? Let me know on Facebook, Instagram or shoot me an email at toilandtroublemediagroup@gmail.com
