Day VI

C: Today we woke again in the backcountry of RMNP as Reece has taken to calling it. The sun was already rising high but rain was misting from the sky in parts….I decided to climb the “rabbit ears” as Reece had done yesterday….it was an adventure I didn’t want to miss. The wind was crazy & I certainly questioned my senses and sanity at certain points but after pausing to gain the final bravery to step over small cravass before the last boulder I knew it was worth it. Time stopped (just not the wind). The sun to the east shining through the misting rain cast a rainbow down on the valley to the west. Unfortunately the photos do not do it justice (I suppose a polarizing light filter would have helped), but the rainbow looked as if it was flowing down the valley. The rain pelting down was so thin that it didn’t wet me or the boulders around but just served to add a cinematic effect to the whole-affair. Incredible.

R: While waiting for Caitlin to come back down from rabbit ears, I undertook the task of drying off and packing up the camp. While we may have only spent two days there, it was sad to say goodbye, and looking at the campsite void of any of our belongings made what we had now colloquially called our home look strange. But according to the ethics of “leave no trace”, the campsite looked exactly as we had found it. Well, I suppose I would like to think that Caitlin and I had left some part of ourselves there in the end. (lame).

The hike back to the trailhead was considerably easier than the trip in. Whether it was because we had acclimated ourselves to the altitude or because it was mostly downhill, I’m not sure. Just to make myself feel better about…myself…let’s say it was the acclimation. Arriving at the car, the Wrangler was wagging its tail and spotting the ground beneath itself with excitement at the sight of us. After finally calming her down Caitlin and I set off to return the bear keg and take on Trail Ridge road all the way through the park, eventually rejoining our old friend Interstate 70. Driving into the park we couldn’t help but notice that the tops of the larger mountains were covered in thick cumulus clouds. Having already seen more than one storm blow its way through the valley we had just stayed in, we were relatively unconcerned with this observation. Besides, the rest of the sky was blue with the occasional happy little cloud floating by. Yet, as we pulled up to the entrance gate the two hooks used to hold a variety of wooden signs stating the condition of Trail Ridge Road read, “Closed.” Apparently there were whiteout snow conditions at the summit of the road, and no one would be getting through for the rest of the day. This changed our plans slightly.

Now, instead of going through the park we would have to backtrack down Interstate 25 and head around the park in a southwesterly loop on Interstate 70. Bummer. This wouldn’t necessarily add on much more time considering how slowly we would probably have traveled through the park, but it made for less interesting driving, some of which we had already done before. However, being the road hardened cross-country travelers we have become, we hit the road with no particular destination besides that of the state of Utah.

Stopping for gas, Caitlin stocked us up on what I now know would be all that we would eat for the rest of the day: trail mix, two strips of beef jerky, sunflower seeds, crackers and cheese, pretzels and peanuts. In the history of this trip, this drive will go down as “the big one”.

After being on Interstate 70 for a few hours we then came to one of the most scenic and fun-to-drive roads I have ever had the pleasure to travel on: Route 40. Going through central-western Colorado and eventually through northeastern Utah, this road has multiple passes through the Rockies as well as long, flat, straight drives through desert-like conditions. Once again I am grateful that Caitlin opted for the manual transmission on her new Wrangler, allowing for some entertaining and video game-like driving situations up and down the mountains. The experience of going from an 85 degree base of a mountain to its snow covered summit and back down in under a half hour is quite the driving experience. On one of these passes a sign informed us that we had just managed to travel 11,200ft in elevation, making me feel a little better about missing out on Trail Ridge which only ascends about 700ft higher.

After the excitement of climbing and descending these great mountains we set upon the great state of Utah. This was probably somewhere in the vicinity of 4:00 in the afternoon, right about when we start calling up random cheap motels found in the tourbook that lie along our intended travel route. In this case, we were feeling good and felt like we could go a few hundred more miles, and set our sights on the lovely town of Vernal. Big enough that we could maybe go out for a drink at a bar, but small enough hat it would not be booked for the night. Or so we thought. I must have called at least four motels until finally one of the owners informed me that the entire town was booked. This is not what you want to hear after nearly eight hours of driving and two days in the backcountry. Now, you would usually think, just move on to the next town, but towns on this road are hundreds of miles apart, and many of them do not host a motel within their quarter mile stretch of commercial activity. This is what coined our catch phrase for the rest of that night’s journey: (pardon my French) “F**k Vernal”. Now, of course I did go on to try the few towns after Vernal that were included in the tourbook, but these were booked up as well. We couldn’t believe it. Why would all of these nowhere towns be booked on a Tuesday night? Who knows? (We later found out from a helpful park ranger that seasonal oil riggers who can’t find any other place to live book many of the motels up.) Either way it meant we had to set our sights upon Salt Lake City, about another four hours of driving, at around 8:00 at night. After taking some pictures with fake dinosaurs standing guard outside a gas station near Dinosaur National Park, we made a reservation at the City Creek Inn in Salt Lake City and set out on our journey.

So far we had purposely avoided night driving for a few reasons. First, because we wanted to be able to see this beautiful country that we have chosen to drive across, not fly. Second, night driving makes me nervous, so if Caitlin would be driving, I wouldn’t be able to sleep. And finally, it would leave us little chance to enjoy the place that we were driving to. In addition to this, Caitlin and I both have astigmatisms, making night driving particularly difficult. I took the wheel for this leg of the trip, thinking that in about two hours I would switch with Caitlin, but for whatever reason I would end up doing the whole route. I think that it is important for me to preface this part of the journey with a small anecdote from my early college days:

My freshman year was spent on Livingston College campus in Rutgers University. This is set outside of the more urban College Avenue campus in New Brunswick, in a slightly more suburban town called Piscataway. Here there were tons of domesticated white-tailed deer. Driving home one night I had the pleasure of hitting one of them with my car. This deer happened to be the first animal I ever hit. I can remember seeing it from short distance away and wondering if it was really going to try and cross the busy road I was traveling on. Then, of course, it did. I couldn’t believe it. I hit the brakes on my car, struck it, sending it rolling up my hood and spinning several times in the air outside the driver’s side window. The deer hit the ground and then scrambled away on obviously broken legs off into the woods. I was shaken, and still am quite weary of the most dangerous animal in North America to this day.

Knowing all of this, one can understand how stressful the next 300 miles of driving were for me. You couldn’t go more than twenty miles without several signs warning you that there were plenty of deer that would be crossing the small two-lane highway. It also didn’t help that both Caitlin and I had previously hit the brakes hard due to hallucinations consisting of a peacock for Caitlin and two jackrabbits for me. In fact, at several points along the road there were large signs with flashing lights warning the driver that there would be frequent deer crossings for the next X amount of miles. Needless to say I was crouched over the steering wheel like a 75-year-old lady, squinting my eyes to see through the bug-spattered windshield, straining to locate these great killers of the continent.

Earlier, Caitlin had tried to assure me that there was nothing to fear; that the deer had gone to sleep. I knew better. The N.A.K.D.K. (North American Kamikaze Deer Konspiracy) never sleeps. I wasn’t proven wrong. As soon as full darkness had set in, the deer came out. Luckily, we only had one minor close call, with one assassin standing just on the shoulder, waiting to pounce. Fortunately for us, we were spared. I can’t positively say the same for those who followed us. To make things even more interesting, we had entered the realm of the 6% grade. Coming out of the Rockies into the desert/farmland of Utah meant losing quite a bit of elevation. Had it not been for the deer, this would have been a joy for me, putting the car in neutral and flying down the curves at speeds upwards of 85 mph. Yet, ever vigilant as one must be concerning the N.A.K.D.K., I took my time and eventually got us to Salt Lake City safely. I was incredibly achy and sore, however, and desperate for a stiff drink after nearly twelve hours in the car. We arrived at our motel at around 12:15 am, and when I asked about the bar situation in Salt Lake, I was sorely disappointed. We weren’t in Manhattan anymore. Last call was at 1:00 am and one usually has to buy a temporary membership to the bar to order alcohol, as all bars in Salt Lake are “private clubs” where only members can buy alcohol. Weak. Instead, I opted for a long, hot shower and a mediocre pizza. It could have been worse, I suppose. To say we both passed out is an understatement. We had no idea what we would do the next day. We just wanted bed.

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