Just off Hiawatha Highway.

Running through Red Feather Village, I'm reading the map carefully as I explore the area for the first time. I come to Illy Lane. Wanting to venture off the one-lane winding dirt road known affectionately as a “highway,” I see Illy connects with another part of the village, to the north

Off I go.

Within yards I encounter another sign. “Elf Lane,” it reads. Well, which is it: Illy Lane or Elf Lane? Have I misread the simple hand-drawn map I carry? It's easy to get lost in running through a heavily forested area. 

And what does this cryptic text mean? Are there summer cabins along this road?

Then I see.

Illy Lane is Elf Lane.

For a full quarter of a mile, the Elves have taken over. High in trees, low under outcroppings, peering over the tops of boulders, hiding behind bushes.

They’re countless. And they're everywhere.