I wanted to yurt. Badly. Right then and there.

The promise of pristine alpine vistas, wild mountain meadows and cool, starry nights to come helped to hold my urge in check for the final trudge up to 11,200 feet. We ultimately achieved the rarefied locale of the Hidden Treasure Yurt, home base for the next two days.

It's no easy task, this yurting, although it's hardly the stuff of an Everest expedition. It demands a bit of legwork (seven miles and more than 4,000 vertical feet, one-way), perhaps more lung-work and some logistical savvy. But the payoff is worthwhile.

Of course, you can always hop into the SUV and drive there. But that would defeat the purpose of this particular mission. We were, after all, on this peak to experience the great Rocky mountain outdoors and if not all, at least some, of its hardships. Already forsaking the drudgery of cramped tents, dehydrated cuisine and earthen bedrolls, I considered a little exertion of the two-footed variety to be my contribution to adversity. If I was to live up to my self-image as a rugged, backcountry yurter, it would demand more than the spectacular setting overlooking the Eagle valley near Vail, the Maroon Bells and Elk mountains above Aspen and the far-off Flat Tops Wilderness surrounding Steamboat Springs.

Sacrifices would have to be made.

For that reason I decided to carry the pack, leading our family outing with just enough grit to justify the bottle of red wine we would enjoy later at our luxury campsite.

Originally used by the nomads of Mongolia, yurts are akin to enormous teepees with wooden floors. The more permanent Hidden Treasure Yurt is a state-of-the-art 24-foot circular structure made of waterproof canvas, space-age insulation and wood. A two-burner stove, propane lights, futon bunks, comfortable furnishings, dome skylight and a clean outhouse separate it from the one Genghis Khan might have slept in 800 years ago. That and the fact most visitors burn wood instead of yak dung for heat.

Because of its outdoor-ish ambiance, high alpine yurt dwelling is among the finest backcountry experiences known to man. Five-star camping. Yes, it's possible to drive (or, come winter, snowmobile) the logging road up New York mountain like my parents did, but once you arrive at the yurt, all travel is on foot. The yurt essentially becomes base camp, a way station used between treks to the 12,550-foot mountain summit or the serene New York Lake nestled below its massive cirque.

Self-image aside, my mission on this particular excursion was to introduce my suburban flatland nephew to the wilds of Colorado. And, of course, enhance my image in suburban flatlands. It's a potentially tricky task, however, given that the only time his 13-year-old arteries had ever been above 11,000 feet was with the benefit of a chairlift. This trip was meant to inspire and build character, not aneurisms. Thus the yurt.

I think back to my own 13-year-old character building tours of the Minnesota Boundary Waters and pine for the luxury of a yurt. Tramping about in the buggy wilds with an overloaded army surplus rucksack made of thick, green canvas with a sadistic leather "forehead" strap in lieu of the more logical modern waist belt and sternum strap, the only shelter from the elements came when the canoe was hoisted overhead during grueling portages between lakes. There was, of course, a matching thick, green, canvas army surplus tent stuffed into the overloaded rucksack alongside cans of beans, fishing tackle and assorted unwieldy sundries.

"Because of its outdoor-ish ambiance, high alpine yurt dwelling is among the finest backcountry experiences known to man..."

The heavy material created quite a dilemma in the rain, causing my nephew's father and me to weigh our options carefully when the strain of our aluminum shelter grew too great for our underdeveloped backbones. Put the canoe down to rest and the cruel canvas sponge would double its weight almost instantly. Push onward and risk permanent brain trauma as the mystery of "mental toughness" unfolded at the expense of our delicate young minds.