Image Courtesy Jesse Varner via Wikipedia
It's when I saw Boulder from the top of the Flatirons that I knew I was moving to Boulder.
Judging from the number of enterprises along the Front Range that have incorporated the word "Flatiron" into their name (Flatiron Crossing, Flatirons Ski Club, Flatirons Scuba, etc.) you could mistake the Flatirons for the Front Range and then some. In fact, the Flatirons (named by pioneer women for their resemblance to the flat, metal irons used to iron clothes) are just the five enormous slabs of red rock numbered one through five running right to left across Green Mountain, just above Chautauqua (yes, but what beautiful slabs).
The infamous Third Flatiron ("infamous" not only for the deadly rappel off the back, but also the wacky ways in which it's been climbed (with feet only, in the buff,
on roller skates, etc.)) has been repeatedly defaced with graffiti, a hundred-foot-high "CU" that has been refreshed over the years and
once even turned into an "OU" the night before a big game against Oklahoma. The markings are much harder to spot than the bright white
"CU" of the 60's and 70's, but the city's clean-up efforts have resulted in a permanent defacing of the rock.