My daughter, Renee, turned 15 this summer, and it was time for her first-ever driving lesson. That virginal time behind the wheel is always a peak experience, complete with anticipation, main action, and afterglow.

More specifically, she did her driving on a road trip along the Peak to Peak Scenic and Historic Byway, Highway 119. Car time is talk time for Renee and me, so that day I struck gold. With or without the driving lesson, taking a teen on the road can provide a double dose of happiness. First, this trip (or any other road trip) offers unexpected, low-key pleasures. Second, being with a willing younger companion is a chance to see the world through new eyes.

At least, that’s how it worked for me. I learned about school, music and, most especially, boys: the current boyfriend, previous boyfriends, crushes on unattainable males, and even the boyfriends of friends. (I slipped into reminiscing, too; I hope I didn’t say too much.) This road trip was a virtual gabfest or, at least, an all-day conversation about previous gabfests.

We headed first to the Hidee Mine in Rudolph Gulch, southeast of Central City. (In September and October the mine is open on Saturdays, but call to confirm 720-548-0343; www.hideegoldmine.com). It was an hour spent in a subterranean environment, and it reminded me more of previous caving expeditions than previous mine tours. It was damp, muddy, and cool, and the required hardhats were a darn good idea; as we walked toward, and then literally on, a gold vein, we each made contact with low-hanging rocks a time or two. The two males in the group were very happy to chip away at the gold ore; for us, it was enough to just break free a small sample and call it done. Boys will be boys, we thought.

We then headed north. When we came to Rollinsville’s drive-through liquor store named The Last Shot, Renee, who paid attention in school when risky behaviors were discussed, pointed out that driving by, not through, was the only sane thing to do. Good thinking.

A healthier choice: the serene and gorgeous Shoshoni Yoga Retreat, just north of Rollinsville. To make it a significant part of your Peak to Peak experience takes a bit of planning. Shoshoni offers a $20 yoga-and-lunch option, but that means getting there by 9:30 a.m., not an easy task with a teen. Or, there’s the 4:30 yoga-and-dinner option (www.Shoshoni.org). Better yet, spend a night there in a cabin and use it as headquarters for forays north and south along the Peak to Peak. For more rustic overnight digs, you could also consider Golden Gate Canyon State Park, which offers very simple cabins and yurts (www.parks.state.co.us/Parks/GoldenGateCanyon).

Back on the road, Renee and I talked about the forests, and especially the Mountain Pine Beetles, those 1/4-inch bugs that plunge deep into healthy trees late each summer, hook up with a mate and breed like crazy, leaving larvae behind to do it again the next year. This is the critter that has done more to destroy Grand County on the Western slope than fire, drought, development, and mining all wrapped together, leaving large swatches of standing deadwood. What’s not gray and skeletal, is rust-brown, the color infested trees turn during the summer that the beetles hatch.

Blessedly, the Peak to Peak isn’t anything like this, yet. But if you want to start a conversation with mountain people, ask about the all-consuming issue of the beetles. Everybody’s got a story. The amazing thing, though, is that when the pines die, aspens send runners underground and create new, hopeful saplings almost immediately.

Next stop: the Carousel of Happiness, which opened for its first go-round on Memorial Day weekend (www.carouselofhappiness.org).

Visitors get full value here: a buck buys a dose of happiness. It’s not just the round-and-round, up-and-down ride on this traditional carousel that is so joyous. It’s the back-story that shouts out happiness.

Scott Harrison was a U.S. Marine in the Vietnam War. He found little happiness in that; in fact, death, destruction, and devastation were his companions. While there, he found solace in a gift from his sister, a wind-up music box with a carousel on top, and carousels became his thing.

In 1986, Harrison learned of the existence of the old Saltair Carousel from outside Salt Lake City, Utah. Inaugurated in 1910, this amusement park ride had survived fires, storms, lengthy storage periods and more, and the animals had been sold off. The guts were for sale, so Hamilton bought the whole kit and caboodle, and hauled it to Nederland. Then he started carving whatever animals struck his fancy. Today, one can ride on a giraffe, a dolphin, a swan, or a mermaid (is a mermaid an animal?), to name a few.

That’s only part of the story. Where can a fella plunk down a full-sized working carousel? The people of Nederland, where he co-directs Amnesty International’s Urgent Action Network, made it possible; a site, labor, and money were donated, and the building went up in the parking lot of the Caribou Shopping Center. The building is as special as the carousel inside. It’s LEED-certified, and better yet, is built in large measure with blue-veined beetle-kill wood. If you can do nothing else on your trip, definitely check out the carousel.

And when you’re finished with your ride, linger in Nederland for lunch, coffee or a visit to one of the small shops or galleries; it’s the largest town on the scenic byway, and can supply just about any needs you might have, including a visitors’ center – or a need for a spicy Nepalese buffet. As for Renee, she didn’t enthuse about our ride, but when we got outside she immediately pulled out her cell, found that she had reception, and texted her beau: “let’s come here and make it a date.”

We were ready to stretch our legs, and we did that north of Nederland at Caribou Ranch (bouldercounty.org/openspace). This area offers easy trails with a new treat: the remains of the Blue Bird Mine’s buildings have been shored up, and as of July, visitors can now wander through the area.

Finally it was time for the driving lesson on a secluded dirt road; twenty minutes was about all either of us could handle because it’s an intense thing, learning to drive.

For dinner, we headed to Ward, which might seem a surprising dinner destination. The town has a certain reputation: it was 420-friendly long before that phrase came into vogue, and cars, many of them non-functioning, outnumber people, functional or otherwise. I am not in a position to confirm or deny this image. What I can confirm is that Ward is home to Marrocco’s, which serves Italian home-cooking six days a week, and non-denominational Christian worship on the seventh.

The restaurant is tiny and closes early, especially as leaf season drops off. And, because the cooking is all from scratch (there’s no Cysco truck that comes up here, says owner/chef Patrick Marrocco) it may run out of specials. So call ahead (303-459-0358). With those caveats out of the way, Marrocco’s will feed you well. No one here is afraid of flavor, so garlic, red pepper, and olive oil are abundant.

The restaurant is housed in a well-preserved powerhouse for the defunct Boston Mining Company. Marrocco did most of the restoration himself, and left as much of the structure exposed as he could, so diners can see the post-and-beam construction and even the hand-whittled pegs.

Marrocco, who is quite a talker, downplays the culinary or architectural surprises of his restaurant. He says instead, “We’re just going along, making families happy.” How fitting, then, to end our tour here. That’s what our whole experience had been about: making our small family happy. You, too, can get on the happiness trail, aka the Peak to Peak.

In addition to writing The Enlightened Tourist column for Nexus, freelance writer Wendy Underhill has written features and investigative reports on a number of diverse topics.