KELLEY AND DAVE’S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE: WEEK 6, Durango, Silverton, Ouray, Telluride, Aspen, Rocky Mountain NP, COLORADO

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KELLEY AND DAVE’S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE The Big Trip West…Notes From the road: WEEK SIX.

Thursday, June 26.

We ate our breakfast on the balcony of our room overlooking 5th street while listening to the insistent whistle of the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad train calling passengers to board for the 3 ½ hour ride to Silverton. Large, billowing black clouds of smoke marked the progress of the train as it headed north along the Animas River toward Silverton. There was a metallic taste to the air that landed on the tongue and the soot and smell permeated our room long after the train left town.

In the brisk Durango mornings I needed long pants and a sweater because for me, 63 degrees is invigorating but still a bit brisk for my Florida sensitivities. Before leaving Durango we toured the train museum where Dave gleefully inspected all the train mechanics and memorabilia like a little kid. It reminded me of the enthusiasm of the man from Italy on yesterday’s train ride who could hardly contain himself, jumping up at every turn, telling his kids to look for cowboys. We spoke to two museum curators to try to clarify what we had heard on the train about the Ute mineral rights when Chief Ouray signed the treaty years ago in the Durango-Silverton area. Although I had not been able to find anything written down, we had been told that even though the Ute tribe had been relocated, Chief Ouray had negotiated a sweet deal for mineral rights in this area. One of the men in the train museum told us he owned the land that his house sat on but the Utes owned the land beneath including all the gas and mineral rights on his property. One of the museum curators has a large gas “tank” on his front lawn from which the Utes collect the natural gas for processing but he and his children have free gas for as long as they live. It would be a sweet justice if the Native Americans were to get the rights to this valuable resource after all the displacement and abuse handed down to them over the past several centuries.

We left Durango around 12:30pm for our beautiful ride to Telluride stopping along the way at an airport where Dave saw planes lifting gliders to soar silently back to the earth. Dave was transfixed watching the planes lift gliders into the air for their 15 to 30 minute soars in the scenic Durango valley. I tried to get him to take a ride but I should have known…he was on a Mission.

Leaving the airport we traveled north along Animas River toward Silverton watching for the train’s billowing smoke far below us in the rocky crevasses carved out by the Animas. The temperature dropped down to the 50s and it started to sprinkle. Very dark clouds moved in to obscure my views to Kendall and Silverton Mountains along the San Juan range. Just as we began to descend into the Silverton Valley the sun broke out to highlight the historic town. In a remarkably generous change of heart, Destination Dave parked on the side of the road noting that we were 15 minutes away from the 2pm train departure back to Durango. I pulled out bread and peanut butter and we ate as we stood by the edge of a cliff overlooking the town and the tracks that wound around the river. The tables were turned here as the damp, chilly weather made me impatient for the 15 minute wait for the train’s departure but soon we heard the signature whistle announcing last call for boarding and before long, the train wound its way towards us puffing and blowing like the Little Engine that Could. We stayed until the train disappeared in the mountain pass then we headed north through the much anticipated Red Mountain Pass where gold and ore wagons first crossed in 1878. Three striking red mountain peaks describe this steep and winding pass dividing the San Juan National Forest and the Uncompaghre National Forest.

Route 550, the Million Dollar Highway, that runs along the Uncompaghre Gorge in the San Juan Mountains between the towns of Ouray and Silverton has been called “the most scenic and awe-inspiring drive in America” where Destination Dave became Man on a Mission. He was exasperatingly grumpy as he pursued his Manic Mission to get to Ouray. I became furious as I had wanted to take my time driving, experiencing and photographing this leg of the trip. To make matters worse, the clouds, mist and occasional rain made the visibility less than optimum. But how many “shots” do you have at taking this drive? You make the most of what you are given and that is just what I intended to do. I did stop, much to Dave’s extreme unhappiness, and through the breaks in the rain and clouds, I photographed craggy snow-covered mountain tops, rusty-red peaks, cold rushing streams and dozens of the dark wooden remains of mine shafts that were scattered throughout the mountain pass.

As the steep pass opened up near Ouray, I pulled over to see the beautiful Cascade Falls under route 550. Several waterfalls urgently poured water down the rocky crevasses into the river below. It was quite cold and but that didn’t stop the dark storm clouds from sending thunderbolts into the canyon which sent me and my metal camera dashing back into the safety of the car. Around the next bend was a turnout that presented a bird’s eye view of the town that has been called the “Switzerland of America”, and for good reason. At 7,700’ it did remind me of the towns tucked far below the soaring peaks of the Swiss Alps. The only thing missing was Heidi with her belled goats.

Ouray, (pronounced you-RAY) was named after the Ute peacekeeper Chief Ouray. Long before the Victorian homes and hot spring resorts, the Tabegauche Ute Indians called this place their summer home. We parked the car and dug out the umbrellas to tour the tiny mountain village nestled in the Sneffels. I found several interesting antique shops, bought a few old bottles for my sand collection then headed for some hot chocolate (to warm me up) and cookies (to stave off hunger) at the popular Mouse’s Chocolates, Coffee and Sweets. Mouse’s has a large coffee roaster that reportedly each morning wakes up the entire town of Ouray with the smell of fresh roasted coffee. Between the chocolate, the coffee and the hot springs it was hard to leave this charming mountain town. When the sun broke out we walked around a bit longer to take in the Victorian buildings and charming ambiance before heading to Kate and Nathan’s in Telluride.

On the approach to Telluride we saw an impressive view of the Sneffels Mountain Range and glimpses of Ralph Lauren’s hundreds of acres of rugged mountain beauty. I wanted to stop to see his striking teepees in the valley but we pressed on towards Telluride onto route 145 driving through Placerville and Saw Pit. These towns brought us back to the ride we took through these winding roads one snowy Thanksgiving three years ago on our little escape from the cold to a kinder climate at Arches in Moab, UT.

We found Kate at home waiting for Nathan and after a joyous reunion we unpacked the car and waited for Nathan to return. Kate and Nathan had planned a barbeque at their friend Justin’s on the other side of town so as they assembled the food we took time to change and prepare for our evening walking tour of Telluride.

According to the Durango-Silverton RR magazine Telluride is “nestled in a box canyon surrounded by 14,000-foot peaks of the San Juan Mountains, the Town of Telluride is perhaps one of the most scenically beautiful places in North America, if not the world.” Amen to that. At 8,750’ it always challenges my ability to catch my breath. The town, a National Historic Landmark District, is comprised of only 50 square blocks, but those blocks are comprised of hilly and challenging streets in too-thin air for an old flatlander like me. It is a “misnomer to think of Telluride as an old mining town. In reality Telluride was a mining supply town.” The mines were located high above the town in 28 little “communities” such as Tomboy, Liberty Bell, Smuggler, Zulu and Lewis. Back in the day, these little communities supported a mining workforce of over 2,000. Over $62 million of precious ore was extracted from the mines at elevations of between 11,000 to 13,000 feet. Walking through town I was reminded of the illuminating true story I had read called Tomboy Bride written by Harriet Fish Backus, pioneer wife of an assayer near the Tomboy Mines. Harriet described in vivid detail the difficulties of making a home at 11,800 feet above sea level in the rugged San Juan Mountains. Her history brought to life the immense challenges and dangers of living in this community during its mining heyday.

Ghilly (Kate and Nathan’s wonderful black lab) led us all on a walk into Telluride past the charming and colorful Victorian homes built by the early Swedish and Finnish settlers. We continued to the far end of town to their friend Justin’s on the hill where we enjoyed a collaborative barbeque dinner of sautéed greens, potato salad and kebabs and steak on the grill. It was a wonderfully relaxing evening of good food and good conversation. Kate and Nathan had to work the next day and Justin needed his rest for his climb up one of the Fourteeners so we left Justin’s and walked briskly back (to keep me warm) with Ghilly again leading the way.

Friday, June 27. This morning we took time to relax and enjoy our sense of place. We did some laundry, had a lazy breakfast and then walked into town to the farmer’s market on South Oak Street at the base of the gondola. The mostly organic market is an event that happens weekly and although still early in the season the vegetables were fresh (mostly greens). There was grass-fed elk, buffalo, lamb and beef, honey, juice, cider, jams, fresh breads, herbal tinctures, fresh-cut flowers, all in all about 15-20 local growers had stalls at the market.

We were assigned to get tomatoes for our camping trip but the few that had been there were all sold out by the time we arrived however we were in time for the chocolate chip cookies and I sampled several of the creamy, dense chocolate fillings from the wonderful Telluride Truffle company. I highly recommend the dark chocolate Grand Marnier (Spiral) and the dark chocolate raspberry flavored (Class 5) truffles. I wish I had tried the dark chocolate Tequila with a touch of salt (Black Diamond) because it sounded intriguing but I was afraid I would look too much like a chocolate piggy. I continued to shop perusing the flower markets, the pottery, art and jewelry stalls before I went back to buy some organic plum jam and luscious ripe cherries. The free gondola was very close to the market so we took our cookies and cherries and rode the gondola up to the Telluride Nature Center, part of the Telluride Institute where Kate had previously been its Director. From our perch on the gondola we enjoyed the views of the still-snow-covered peaks in the Telluride ski area where Kate and I skied three years ago. After a tour of the center and a brief hike we took the gondola back down into town and met Kate in her office at the base of the mountain. With her antique bicycle in tow we walked up the hill for fish tacos in the courtyard at the colorful La Cocina de Luz Mexican restaurant. The food was both organic and traditional, a hard combination to find in most Mexican-American restaurants.

It turned out that Dave and I had eaten way too much before hiking the 5 ½ mile round trip up Bear Creek Preserve Canyon. With water bottles full and my camera on my hip we began the hike to the beautiful waterfalls listening to the rushing water along the way. Soon it was evident that we were not in shape for this “easy trail”. Despite the fact that we had been hiking daily in elevations over 5,000 feet, this hike, although not terribly steep, was on a continuous incline to a final elevation of 9,800 feet (over 1,000’ higher than the town of Telluride) and posed a bit of a challenge as we huffed and puffed our way up in the thin mountain air. We rationed our two quarts of water to make it to the top but between the inadequate water supply, my lack of cardio fitness and our difficulty breathing at these heights, we barely made it to the waterfalls. But I was determined not to leave without making it to the top, which we both finally did, panting and red-faced. I did stop to photograph many of the wildflowers in bloom along the mountain path, which Dave said I did because I was out of shape and needed many breaks…in part he was right but I won’t tell him that!

Exhausted from our two and a half hour, 5 ½ mile hike, we took the copper colored Galloping Goose bus back to Kate and Nathan’s where Nathan was waiting to take us for a drive in a cute 4 passenger electric car for a tour of town and dinner. The speed limit in Telluride is 15mph and in this small town there are few spots for parking. In addition, this box canyon town has serious air quality challenges, making the tiny electric car an excellent transportation choice. These cars are so practical for in-town driving that conversions to mini-trucks make economical choices for shoppers, landscapers or hauling your tired Newfie. Nathan drove us up to the east end of town, past river streams with several beaver dams. Kate pointed out that the beavers’ natural predators are too few to keep the population in check and as a result these furry guys are sharpening their teeth on way too many aspens. We continued to the end of the road to see Bridal Veil Falls with its spectacular 365’ drop. With binoculars we could see their friend’s house (actually still being used as an historic hydro electric plant that provides enough power for 400 homes) precariously perched on the edge of the cliff over the waterfalls. In order to reach their house they need to travel over two miles on narrow dirt roads that switch back on steep and treacherous curves. It must be a joy in winter.

Nathan, our chauffeur for the evening, parked directly in front of Honga’s Lotus Petal restaurant (there is free parking for electric cars in Telluride) where we had a delicious food fest. Kate had been a waitress here so she walked us through the menu suggesting excellent sushi. Kate ordered a fantastic tasting Caterpillar roll complete with one eye and antennae and we all sampled from each other’s plate in this wonderful Asian-Fusion restaurant. We ate way too much food and drank too much sake so we left to walk off our dinner in the lively downtown watching people stagger out of the various tasting rooms at the Telluride Wine Festival. Besides Telluride’s history, beauty and many outdoor activities, the town also is known for its frequent festivals. We were in the middle of the Wine Festival and the previous week they hosted the Bluegrass Festival. Telluride even has a Nothing Festival where the kick-off (and only event) is comprised of a few people riding bicycles through town with ‘nothing’ on. Kate has organized several festivals including the Black Bear Festival culminating in the Black Bear Ball. We had thought about coming for the Bluegrass Festival but the daily ticket price was a bit steep added on to the many expenses of our 8-week trip, plus Kate and Nathan’s extra bed was “rented out” to their friend Amelia. After our tour of town Nathan drove us back home in the electric car and Kate and I headed outside for a soothing dip in the hot tub at the base of the mountain under the cool, star-filled Telluride skies.

Saturday, June 28. Before packing up the car for our wilderness camping trip, we enjoyed some fresh eggs and bacon then took Ghilly for her run in the “backyard”. We should all have such a backyard, with beautiful mountain views, wildflower meadows, hummingbirds, deer, bear, and yellow-bellied marmots - we saw a marmot scamper into his home at the base of the condo right in front of Ghilly who was so used to seeing them, she was nonplused.

Dave and I walked into Telluride for last minute shopping, a stop at the PO, and to pick up sandwiches for the road trip. While we were gone, Nathan loaded my Ipod with great bluegrass music. Dave, loaded down with sandwiches and packages from my last-minute raid on the town’s shops, took the Galloping Goose home while I walked, smelled the luscious perfume of the lilacs and photographed my way back. We drove out of town, Kate riding with me and Dave, temporarily relieved of his driving duties, with Nathan and Ghilly, driving again on Route 62 through the Dallas Divide past Ralph Lauren’s beautiful mountain property and teepees with spectacular views of the Sneffels (Mt. Sneffels is one of the Fourteeners). I wonder if Ralph has ever slept in those teepees. I know I would love the opportunity. After a brief stop for me to stop and smell whatever was blooming, aka photo shoot, we continued on to the tiny western town of Ridgeway for last minute provisions. Ridgeway, once abuzz with Hollywood glitter, is a small ranching town in the valley with wide-open views of the Cimarrons and the Sneffels Range. Movie sets still remain from How the West Was Won and John Wayne’s True Grit. I walked with ice cream in hand, past the old fire station with its cupola affixed to the roof expressly for True Grit.

With the sun at our back, we headed up the 27 mile dirt road known as Owl Creek Pass through the Uncompahgre National Forest towards the Cimarron Range and the Curecanti National Recreation Area. We stopped on the way for Ghilly to romp in the snow with Kate while I threw snowballs at Dave. I was mostly unsuccessful whereas he frequently hit his mark. We passed on the wilderness camping and chose a campsite with bathrooms nearby setting up our tents and hammock among the beautiful wild columbine and lupine and not so beautiful mosquitoes. As soon as the site was in order we headed out with Ghilly down the steep path that wound through tall quaking aspens blanketed with hundreds of blue lupine and many-colored dancing columbines to the beautiful Silver Jack Reservoir. On the way we discovered a large aspen with amazing bear tracks imbedded in its bark all the way to the top of the 60-foot plus tree. Memo to put away our food! Kate and Nathan collected dead branches and twigs for the campfire, then Nathan marinated the chicken for the grill and Kate set the table, while I played Frisbee with Ghilly. We had a tree-top view of the brilliant orange sunset but as soon as the sun sank behind the trees it got quite chilly. The mosquitoes retired for the night (it was too cold for them) and I suited up for the colder weather (it was too cold for me). Candles illuminated our table and we ate a wonderful meal as we inhaled the richness of the moist woodsy smell of the woodland undergrowth, the pines and campfire. After dinner Nathan provided soothing music on his guitar while we warmed up around the campfire. Since I had built the fire up a bit too much (I was desperate to stay warm) Kate and I filled the time exploring the night sky and competing in her game of Pigs as we waited for the logs to burn down before dousing the embers with water.

Sunday, June 29. We had a 6am wakeup call. As the new dawn light grazed our tent I heard raucous laughter down by the lake. It imagined it was a group of campers throwing cold water on each other, laughing and screaming in their play. Almost as soon as it started, it stopped. I listened again and there was no noise at all. When I heard stirring in Kate and Nathan’s tent I softly called out to them and they asked me if I had heard the Coyotes! I had heard about the legendary tricksters from Navajo legends (the Native Americans pronounce it KI-ote, not Ki-O-tee) but I had never heard their haunting “laughter” until now. Nathan told me that they also throw their voices so when I imagined the sound coming from the water’s edge it could actually have been from somewhere else in the mountains, possibly near us.

Someone forgot the eggs (I won’t mention who). After some rich wake-me-up coffee, we broke camp and headed out of the forest to find some breakfast. Nathan knew of a little roadside store that sold delicious fruit pies. It was the general consensus that Breakfast Pie would do just fine as a substitute for egg, chicken and bacon breakfast burritos. The pie offerings were amazing but we all agreed we would split the amazing Forest Fruit Pie with a filling of rhubarb, strawberry, blueberry, blackberry and red raspberry. I think this pie should be elected Colorado’s State Pie.

Thoroughly sated, we began our scenic drive up 92 and the West Elk Loop to the North Rim of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. The 2,700-foot deep sheer walled chasm is now preserved as a national park. The steep walled canyon is so deep that the sun rarely brightens the massive gorge and river below. Kate and I stopped at Lake Fork near the Blue Mesa Dam for a view of the beautiful blue reservoir then continued into the Black Canyon dashing out at several scenic overlooks for glimpses of the river below. When I was at the Telluride Farmer’s Market the owner of the Telluride Chocolates told me she had rafted the Gunnison Gorge part of the river and had to carry her heavy raft a mile down the steep and rocky trail to the river. After that portage she vowed never to do it again but when she finished her rafting trip she said it was so awesome she was ready to do it all over again. After our brief stops we pressed on towards Crawford and Hotchkiss since we were on a time crunch to get to Wink and Max’s for lunch.

For my ‘big six-oh!’ birthday, in addition to my beautiful Mexican bowl and some wonderful Telluride reading, Kate and Nathan arranged for our stay at his uncle Wink’s new Agritourism portion of his Hotchkiss farm (Agritourism encourages visitors to experience agricultural life and a taste of nature and tradition in the countryside). Wink was formerly an attorney in Bozeman, MT and his wife Max is an accomplished artist who grew up on a farm. Together they bought the organic Mesa Winds Farm three years ago with apple, peach, and cherry orchards, strawberry fields and vineyards of pinot noir and pinot grigio and never looked back.

On our tour of their farm Wink told us about the various varietals of grapes and wine, he pointed out the galas and delicious apples, the cherries that were under netting because the deer were brazen and voracious and he proudly explained his new elaborate irrigation system, essential in this arid climate. The farm’s wind machines, looking like a one-armed windmill, are used to generate air currents to inhibit freeze conditions on cold nights when frost is threatening. Sustainability and green building are key elements at this organic farm. Several young people assist on the farm while learning and sharing new techniques in this ever-changing business. We met Laura, an organic farming intern and Emily a recent grad of the Cordon Bleu in Paris who shared their knowledge of this new style farming.

After our tour we sat down at the long table under the cool shade of the outdoor canopy to enjoy Emily’s fresh green salad with lavender and nasturtium flowers, spinach quiches, sun tea, fresh bread with honey from the farm’s hives, and Pinot noir and Pinot grigio wines all produced on this working farm. The brightly colored table cloth added a country polish to the wonderful setting.

After lunch Max walked us down past the natural spring pool to the vineyards. Wearing aprons equipped with Felco pruners, ribbons for tying, and alcohol for sanitizing, we were given instructions on pruning and tying up the young vines in the Pinot noir vineyard. Kate and Nathan took one row and Dave and I the other row while Ghilly rolled around in the cheat grass. I could hear the call of the pheasants in the orchard nearby as I pruned away in the vineyard. Working in the hot vineyards gave me a new appreciation for farmers in general and farm laborers in particular. I don’t think we were in the fields for more than two hours but it felt like all day. It was a memorable experience and fun to work in the fields with Kate and Nathan but we were out of shape, hot and our legs and back were sore from the bending and pruning. As cold as the spring-fed pond was, I took a refreshing and revitalizing little swim with the frogs and dogs in the hazy late afternoon.

Rain clouds hovered over the mountains in the distance for most of the day despite the dry hot sun over the farm. When I suggested we might get rained on I was told that it almost never rains at the farm but pours in the mountain range beyond. Some of the rain dries before hitting ground. This is called a rain virga; a streak or shaft of precipitation falls from a cloud but evaporates before reaching the ground. At high altitudes the precipitation falls mainly as ice crystals before melting and finally evaporating. It is often described as looking like a “torn drape or a curtain hanging from the cloud”. We saw the rain virgas often in our travels out west but I was unfamiliar with the term until Kate described what I was seeing.

Emily prepared another wonderful spinach salad for dinner served under the canopy along with fresh cornbread and honey and a delightful noodle casserole. All was accompanied by the Mesa Winds Farm’s own wines that we now had an intimate knowledge of. Our dessert was an extraordinary chocolate mousse with strawberries freshly picked by Nathan and Kate. There was so much food I took half of my dessert to savor later in the evening.

As I stood watching the extraordinary sunset over the mountains, a deer stood watching me from the orchard. Laura, Emily, Kate, Nathan and Ghilly ran to the pond’s edge to scare the deer away but he stood his ground until the bitter end when I could swear he winked and sauntered away in the middle of the orchard. It was getting late and I was nearing a bittersweet goodbye but to stall for more time I trimmed Kate’s long, beautiful hair in the cool mountain air. We said our tearful goodbyes and then retired for the evening.

Monday, June 30. We greeted the day with a great cup of coffee, scrambled eggs, and toast with honey and plum jam for breakfast. I teased Emily and Laura about their upcoming day murdering and plucking chickens at the local butchery. We sat in the kitchen and solved the world’s problems with Wink and Max before leaving their wonderful farm.

As much as we wanted to linger at Mesa Winds, we needed to get underway on our long drive to Rocky Mountain National Park. Of course we had many stops planned along the way (it’s all about the journey). We traveled on route 133 to Somerset past the Elk Creek Coal mine to connect with route 82 in Carbondale. Our first stop was for lunch in Aspen. This town was very different in nature than any other we had visited on this trip. Walking down the street you had a feeling you were in a large cosmopolitan city that just happened to have spectacular mountains in the backyard. We passed several upscale shops and restaurants, haute couture dressed women, a few with bad face lifts, in “plastic” Aspen. This was not the wild west or country experience we were looking for so we walked to the park, had a picnic lunch then moved on to the breathtaking Independence Pass and Continental Divide at 12,095 feet above sea level. The pass, part of route 82, is a Colorado Scenic and Historic Byway that is the second highest paved mountain pass in Colorado. This road connects the upper valley of the Roaring Fork River upstream from Aspen with the headwaters of the Arkansas River near Leadville. There are several narrow switchbacks and steep dropoffs in the highest part of the pass that are well above the tree line. We encountered single lane traffic in the narrowest curves of this alarmingly beautiful road. The pass (always closed in winter) was only recently opened and when we arrived, deep snow was still evident in the higher elevations. I stopped the car at a bend in the road and talked to two men coming down the mountain with their fishing poles in hand. When I asked them if they caught anything they laughed and told me the lake, just 10 minutes up the mountain, was still frozen.

On our second crossing of the Great Continental Divide (our first crossing was in New Mexico at a considerably lower elevation) our route ran 32 miles west over the Sawatch Range through the White River National Forest to the San Isabel National Forest on the east. The clouds were heavy and the wind was picking up at the top of the pass so we dashed out for a photo op and dashed back in the car to head down past Independence Ghost Town at 10,830 feet above sea level where we saw the remains of an 1849 mining community in the Roaring Fork Valley. The snowy peaks contrasted with the dark rain clouds gave a wintry aspect to this summer day. Dave had not been drinking enough water and was suffering from altitude sickness and even at this elevation life was becoming challenging to him so we pushed on towards Leadville.

At an elevation of 10,152 feet, Leadville is the highest incorporated city in the US. A true western town, Leadville, on the National Register of Historic Places, was a legendary frontier mining town and in the 1800s was the second most populous city in Colorado. Today the town still boasts many blocks of historic Victorian architecture. With charming hotels and old saloons this town is a hidden gem tucked away in the Rocky Mountains. It was threatening rain and a chilly 69 degrees when Dave and I parked the car and shopped for old bottles in the local antique shops dashing out just as the rain began to fall. Since our car was parked in front of the Tabor Opera House on Main Street I took refuge there to learn some local history. Baby Doe Tabor, an attractive young Irish divorcee from Missouri, had a scandalous love affair with the wealthy (and married) Horace Tabor of Leadville. Horace divorced his first wife Augusta behind her back and later married Baby Doe but when Augusta found out she made it public which hurt Horace’s run for the Senate. There were so many challenges made about the legality of the marriages and divorces that I gave up trying to figure it all out. Suffice it to say she was the Hester Prynne of her day. We had also heard of the Unsinkable “Molly” (Margaret) Brown, the legendary survivor of the Titanic, but I had not known she was a suffragette, actress and philanthropist who made and lost millions of dollars. She died a pauper but because of her tremendous generosity over the years to the town of Leadville, the townspeople provided for her until her death. I was told heard her cabin was now a small museum but no one seemed able to give us proper directions. Driving along one of the wrong routes to the cabin we passed the train station as the train was pulling into town and I stopped between rain drops to ask for better directions. I ended up without a definitive answer but I did get my feet soaked in coal dust covering the floor of our car with black mud.

Leaving Leadville, we drove past Mt Elbert, the highest of the Colorado Rockies, and at 14,443 it was touching the rain clouds. Destination Dave became Cranky Dave with his unfortunate altitude sickness. I was limited in my stops (Cranky Dave) but we stopped briefly in Frisco “the main street of the Rockies” to gather information about where we might find a room close enough to Rocky Mountain National Park. I gathered several phone numbers from the information booth and made calls in the car with the intermittent cell phone coverage eventually making a reservation at a motel in Winter Park/Fraser (it was very confusing to see both names on all the signs and I never did find out which town I was actually in). We drove in the rain along route 70 past raging snow melts to the junction of route 40 where we headed north. Along the Front Range we began to see the massive destruction of the Colorado mountain pine beetle. There were many more once-green mountainsides turned red then rusty brown from the beetle rampage. From a distance one might have thought it was fall foliage.

We were both tired when we checked into our room so without a lot of investigation we ate across the street from our motel at Smokin’ Moe’s Ribhouse. The best thing to recommend this otherwise unexciting dinner was the good Cuban bean soup and Bob Dylan’s Freewheeling album that piped 60s memories throughout the restaurant. Leaving the restaurant I saw a spectacular orange and red sunset and for the first time I was without my camera! I ran across the street and grabbed it in time to capture some of the beauty of this famed “Alpine Glow”. Hummingbird feeders were hung all around the motel and at dusk they were abuzz with the tiny birds darting and clicking as the light faded. We watched for bear since we were warned by our hosts that they had been recently active in the area, but no such sightings by us. The motel offered a nice hot tub so we took our tired and chilled bones for a good soak before retiring for the evening.

Tuesday, July 1. We left Winter Park/Fraser on a very cold 38 degree morning for Grand Lake at the south eastern end of Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP). Grand Lake, considered to be the headwaters of the Colorado River, diverts water east under the Continental Divide through a tunnel. Water is then pumped into Lake Granby and Shadow Mountain Lake, the nearby manmade reservoirs.

At the KawuneecheVisitor’s Center we were advised to visit the serene Shadowcliff, a former hostel, now a peaceful mountain retreat with rustic log cabins and mountain lodges. The large community lodge has a wide open porch where we enjoyed panoramic views to Grand Lake. We saw several men cutting down dead lodgepole pines killed by the voracious beetles. The Mountain Pine Beetle, also referred to as the Rocky Mountain Pine Beetle and Colorado Beetle, has been primarily attacking the lodgepole pine killing thousands of acres of these beautiful tall trees. I was sorry to see so many majestic green giants become broken and bedraggled brown spindles. There are many reasons for the invasion of this beetle and any stress like drought can weaken the tree. In a weakened state the pine tree makes less sap. When the beetle moves in the tree is unable to push the larvae out so when the pine boring beetle lays its eggs and fills the cavities, in an effort to push the beetle out the tree literally bleeds to death. The men we talked to were cutting down the dead trees to burn because the spread is so severe even windbreak or landscape pines many miles from the mountains can succumb to beetles imported in infested firewood. Areas like Steamboat Springs are worried about saving their famous ski runs. They rely on the lodgepole pine to keep the Champaign Powder from blowing off the slopes. I can’t help but wonder what affect this infestation will have on habitat loss, tourism and the economy. The women in the lodge’s garden had a more optimistic view as they pointed out that because of the increased light, thousands of new wildflowers covered the forest floors. Optimism is what Colorado needs right now.

The Visitor’s Center had also advised us to take the easy hike to Adam’s Falls promising impressive waterfalls and the high probability of seeing elk, but we drove around in circles wasting precious time trying to find the entrance to the poorly marked trail. When we finally found it Dave had lost his patience and chose to continue up to RMNP instead. We pressed on with the hopes of finding the promised elk, moose and mountain goats. At Grand Lake we left Route 40 and picked up 34 towards Trail Ridge Road where we entered Rocky Mountain National Park.

Coyote Trail was our first stop on this overcast day. Dark, heavy rain clouds hung to the south and threatened our day but we were hopeful as we began to walk the two mile valley trail. Bright yellow arnica daisies, mariposa lilies and chiming bells brightened our walk along this montane ecosystem. Open stands of ponderosa pine up to 150 feet tall and 400 years old graced the south facing slopes of this region. As we found on many of our walks out west, the ponderosa’s bark changes from gray-brown to cinnamon-red as it ages and often gives off a pleasant, sweet vanilla scent when warmed by the sun. Elk congregate in herds here to graze on aspen bark and young shoots, however the herd is now so large the aspen are being decimated. The ranger told us there will be a culling of the herd soon to keep the population in check. When the big crack of thunder hit we decided to retreat from the river’s edge, forgoing elk, otter and beaver sightings, to head for the safety of our car.

We left Coyote Trail and we continued north into the park through dense stands of Douglas fir, lodgepole pine and Engelmann spruce. The rain let up and we saw several cars parked at the side of the road. Figuring there must be an animal sighting we too pulled off and followed the crowd to see two enormous bull elk with racks 4-5 feet wide just sitting among the trees. I took some photographs of these elk in the dark forest ending up with dark shadowy images lending a powerful ghostly feel to their presence. A short distance up the road we saw a herd of about 5 or 6 elk running in the meadow near the edge of the forest. As they bedded down in the tall grass they were amazingly camouflaged, all we could make out was their dark faces and tall racks. As we turned to go I spotted a lone beautiful western version of our sandhill crane. Tall, with its rusty feathers blending in so well, I didn’t even see the bird until it moved. Soon after we added a baby moose to our list of sightings as he grazed in the chokecherry, wax currant and serviceberry bushes, oblivious to our staring eyes.

The rain stopped but the clouds persisted leaving me challenging light conditions for photography and cooler temperatures for walking. Our car climbed slowly along some serious switchbacks up to Farview Curve and the Timber Lake Trailhead where we enjoyed the impressive views of snowcapped mountains and steep mountain inclines. This mountain pass is only open in summer due to the heavy snow and ice conditions occurring here about nine months out of the year. I was humbled when I saw several mountain cyclers stopping to rest at this lookout. This landlubber still hadn’t gotten her lungs acclimated to the high climbs and the thought of these men and women cycling these seriously steep mountain roads in that thin air was most impressive to me. At 10,560 feet, 69 degrees and two miles above sea level we reached the Continental Divide at Milner Pass, our third and last time crossing the great divide.

I drove up the beautiful, steep and winding Trail Ridge Road gaining 2,000 feet in elevation to the Alpine Visitor Center. We got out of the car and immediately felt the drop in temperature. The wind picked up and the sun was under the clouds so I didn’t stay long in the cold parking lot. Dave walked between the two visitor center buildings and spotted a yellow bellied marmot frolicking in the snow. He tried to find me but I was wandering inside the buildings checking out a late lunch. The driving did not get any less challenging as we continued into the park on Trail Ridge Road. I would not recommend it for the faint of heart. The storm clouds increased again and it started to rain with drops large and thick enough to be snow. Several large herds of elk were off in the distance at many of our turns and as the road became more winding exposing rocky crags, four young elk appeared out of nowhere and crossed the road in front of our car. We passed many rushing waterfalls from the heavy snowmelts. At one particular turnout I tried to get out to walk the rugged path to get closer to the flowers (yes, there were flowers in bloom despite the snow) on the crusty Alpine tundra. The flowers are low-growing (most only 6” tall) compact mats or cushions that dotted the rocky landscapes. For nearly eight months the average temperatures do not rise above freezing. Despite the strong winds, bitter cold, intense ultraviolet light and thin soil, these beauties thrive protected by their waxy leaves and long taproots.

It was too rainy and cold for me to explore the tundra world so I hopped back into the car and drove towards Many Parks Curve at the end of Trail Ridge. Just before we left this high tundra we spotted the largest bull elk we had ever seen with a rack at least 6 feet across. He proudly grazed on the low tundra grasses very close to the road. I was entranced as I watched him slowly move his elegant head from side to side foraging for food. Shortly after the rain came down in sheets and the white mountain tops became a stark contrast to the ever darkening skies. Once again I was stirred by fond memories of my many childhood trips to the White Mountains in New Hampshire.

Dropping into Beaver Meadows I pulled off at a beautiful valley vista where I finally saw my first mountain bluebird. His tiny body, incredibly iridescent in the brighter light, was highlighted by the dark skies beyond. It was still misting and we could hear the distant thunder as we watched bright ponchoed trail riders wind their way through the valley floor. By the time we arrived in Estes Park we were too tired to explore it and I later found out that the very touristy drive we had taken was not the sum total experience here. I guess we will have to return to see the charm and history of this town.

We bade farewell to the remarkable Rocky Mountain National Park and began our half hour drive to Boulder where we planned to have dinner. Boulder with a doable elevation of 5,430 feet is home to the University of Colorado and Naropa University; the only accredited Buddhist-inspired University in the United States. Cresting over the hill on highway 36 into Boulder, it’s easy to see why this intriguing town has been dubbed “the city nestled between the mountains and reality.” Dave and I stopped and when we looked up at the clouds we saw, clearly defined, a puffy underside of a bear’s paw reminding us that we were treading on bear country. Acres of vast open space roll into Boulder’s quaint cityscape tucked into the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. I was surprised to learn that many year-round attractions are free or almost-free making this a very livable community for the young families that live here. We joined young parents with strollers, tourists, students and other couples walking the mile-long mall in the center of town. On the way we met a couple who strongly advised that we have dinner at Antica Roma across from City Hall. The restaurant was charming and our bread and dipping sauce was delicious but the rest of our dinner was unfortunately not memorable. A woman in the Patagonia shop on the mall had suggested that we go to the Boulder Dushanbe Teahouse. Thinking the woman meant for us to visit the tea house after dinner, I was not aware that this place served dinner so we had planned on sipping a cup here after dinner. When we arrived there and looked at the menu I kicked myself because the food looked terrific. The packed outdoor tables along the river facing Boulder’s Central Park were enough testimony for this unusual restaurant. The beautiful structure had been given to the city by Boulder’s sister city Dushanbe, (the capital of Tajikistan located on the Silk Road in Central Asia). With its characteristic architecture and colorful tiles this building perfectly reflects the cultures and traditions of Tajikistan. There were long lines for dinner and Dave was tired so we decided to walk back towards our car to have dessert at Crepes a la Cart where Dave and I split a Gateau St. Honore crepe with cinnamon, caramel and Grand Marnier filling and a really good cup of decaf coffee. By now it was nearing 8pm so we left Boulder to look for a place to stay in Denver. Dave did not want to stay in town with the challenges of the morning traffic so we drove to the eastern side of Denver. We anticipated many more options in the “eastern suburbs” but soon found out the ones close enough to Denver were sold out and there are only eastern truck stops beyond so we quickly ran out of motels. We found ourselves driving east on 70 in the middle of nowhere. With limited options in the flat, dark expanses of nothing we ended up at a truck stop motel in Byers, CO at 9:45pm. It was clean. We were tired. We stayed.

Wednesday, July 2. We woke up in this mostly flat Colorado cattle country with very few amenities. Even though this part of the country is flat, we were still at an altitude of 5,183 feet above sea level. Fortunately the Longhorn Motel was a full service truck stop and had a dining room serving these transient purveyors of our nation’s products. As we ate our eggs I overheard several conversations. The man behind us said over his biscuits and gravy that he was looking forward to the time he would retire and move away from there, “somewhere down south, but not too hot. Do a little fishin’. Too dry here, my eyes gittin’ red n’ irritable. Need a little more humidity.” The man beside me said he had just three more years in the service before he retired. He was on his way back to Iraq.

We headed east and passed through Kit Carson County and Deer Trail, CO where we saw several rodeo signs and old windmills and horses grazing along the lightly rolling pastures. Dave pointed out the large cooperative grain silos in this sparsely populated region. The rolling landscape turned to pancake flat in Ariba. As we moved towards the state line we began to see small cottonwood oases and wide open acres of sand colored grasses that the cattle seemed happy to munch on. I looked at the lonely roads that ran away from the highway and spotted several young antelope sauntering across. (The sightings were later confirmed by the women in the Kansas Visitor’s Center).

Kansas didn’t look that big on the map but it took us all day to cross it. With big thunderheads in the distance we stopped at the Kansas State Visitor’s Center and I walked quite a distance on the crispy-crunchy grass to the fence separating the public land from the farms beyond. Poised with my camera, I began to record the flat farmland when I got nailed by fierce biting flies. I quickly retreated to the shelter of the Visitor’s Center where I learned about the history of Kansas.

Aside from Dorothy (there is an Oz museum in Kansas) there are a number of other famous Americans who hailed from this state. Amelia Earhart, John Brown, Ike Eisenhower, Bob Dole and Wild Bill Hickok, were among the notables who either were born, lived or died in Kansas. Dubbed “Bleeding Kansas” this state was battle central for many conflicts between proslavery and antislavery factions through the 1850s. In later years Brown v. Board of Education symbolized the “reality of discrimination under the ‘separate but equal’ doctrine and the determination of citizens to insure equal opportunities for their children.” The Native American Pawnee at the peak of their 1500 plus population were the original settlers of Kansas. Living in teepees and earth lodges they survived on buffalo, dried meats and crops from their gardens. The Pawnee were moved to Oklahoma. The Iowa, Sac and Fox Indians were moved into the Missouri River area; the Shawnee were moved to the present Johnson County; the Kaws were forced from their lands and moved to a reservation in Oklahoma. A stellar American legacy. These Native Americans are left with a state historic site and Pawnee Indian Museum where you can “feel the spirits of the past”.

The Santa Fe, Chisholm, Oregon, and Smoky Hill Trail all run through this rolling prairie landscape and the famous Dodge City, also known as the Buffalo Capital of the World, had the reputation of being the wildest town on the western frontier. Lewis and Clark made camp at several points in Kansas and the Hollenberg Pony Express is one of the few surviving stations in the US. When you think you’ve seen it all, the official historic site of the Little House on the Prairie is located in near Independence, KS. And I had thought Kansas was a state to simply “get through”. After seeing the beautiful countryside and learning about its illustrious history I definitely want to come back to explore it more thoroughly.

I had expected the landscape to look like central Illinois: flat with corn and soy as far as the eye could see. Maybe Kansas is flat and uninteresting in the south but heading east on Route 70 was a pleasant surprise. In the western part of the state it was considerably flatter with its corn and wheat crops where thrashers and combines worked the fields stirring dust from the parched soil. But the land soon gave way to gentle green or wheat colored hills. At times the hills grew steeper (although the altitude was now only 1418’) and closer together like moguls on a mountainous golf course. These lush green hills west of Topeka were likely the beginning of the beautiful Flint Hills that stretch south in central Kansas. With my eyes fixed to the car window I saw cattle drinking from the rivers or cooling under the shade of a tree in the narrow ravines of these lush green moguls. The green hills faded behind us and were soon replaced with tall grain silos, acres of corn and wheat, and tiny oil wells tucked into little corners of the cornfields.

Like the old Burma Shave billboards of the 50s we passed many signs announcing the OZ museum. Located in Wamego it was only 9 miles off the highway but it was not on our itinerary. With a sigh I read the last sign: “OZ Exit Now!” as I sadly passed by the world of Dorothy, Toto, the Lion, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man.

Abilene, on the Smoky Hill River, named from a passage in the Bible meaning "city of the plains," began as a stage coach stop in 1857. The town grew quickly from a crude little frontier village of 300 to a booming city of almost 3,000 when the railroad pushed west. The cattle traders began to use the Abilene stockyards (the railhead is on the Union Pacific Railroad) which quickly became the largest stockyards west of Kansas City. Longhorn cattle were driven by hundreds of cowboys along the famed Chisholm Trail which ran from Texas through Oklahoma to Kansas ending in Abilene. Over 3 million head of Texas Longhorn were shipped from Abilene to hungry eastern markets between 1867 and 1872. The trail brought with it many travelers and traders thus making Abilene one of the wickedest and wildest towns in the west.

“By 1870, Abilene boasted ten boardinghouses, ten saloons, five general stores, and four hotels. During the summer shipping season, the town was hot, with little swift-turning whirlwinds spinning the powdery dust in the streets. It was noisy with the continual bawling of cattle, the cries of cowhands, the dust-muffled beat of horses' hooves.
Dee Brown -- The American West”

Tom “Bear River” Smith was initially successful policing Abilene, often using only his bare hands. After surviving two assassination attempts, he was murdered and decapitated in November of 1870. Five months later he was replaced by the fearless Frontiersman James Butler “Wild Bill” Hickok but Hickok’s term was short lived. While standing off a crowd during a street brawl, gambler Phil Coe took a shot at Hickok who returned fire killing Coe but also accidentally shooting his friend and deputy Mike Williams who had been coming to his aid. Hickok lost his job two months later.

Dave and I walked along the old historic front porches of Old Abilene Town peering into windows of the log cabins, Alamo Saloon, old school house, log cabin jail and home of Wild Bill listening for ghosts of the past.

We also peered into the windows of the Eisenhower family home since 1892 where Ike attended school. Ike, Mamie and their one son are buried on the site. The family home, museums and church were closed but we walked the grounds before heading to the Brookville Hotel for dinner. When we arrived in town we stopped at the Visitor’s Center just as it was closing. The gracious hostess reopened the doors for us and gave us a quick overview of what we could see and do in the short time we had. She suggested we have dinner at the old Brookville Hotel but before sending us on our way she offered us coffee and home baked sugar cookies with a recipe card that said Mamie Eisenhower’s Sugar Cookies. My mother and grandmother (whom I called Mamie) would have loved that.

The Brookville Hotel has been a “Kansas Tradition” since the 1870s. The restaurant, highly recommended by our sugar cookie hostess, is known for its family style chicken dinner and was the 2007 recipient of the James Beard Foundation American Classic Award so we knew we had to try it. I remembered eating more food than the table would hold in the family style restaurant in Lancaster County last year and vowed never again. This was Lancaster all over again. As good as the whole fried chicken was with its mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits and fresh strawberry jam, creamed corn, spiced apple and ice cream I think I will “just say no” next time or I’ll have to buy another wardrobe of larger sized clothes.

We tripped the light fantastic in the early evening light as we headed towards Kansas City. The skies were darkening and the rains came down in short bursts but the lightening bolts really got our attention. With a clear 360degree view we had lightening in every direction. The sun was still peering through the clouds as it set in the west but the east began to turn green, that ominous green I have associated with tornadoes. We were on our way to stay with our friends Pam and Kent in Leawood so I quickly called Pam to check on the tornado reports. She informed me I had nothing to worry about since no tornadoes had been reported. I thanked her and hung up but would not be appeased since I knew someone had to be the first to see one and maybe it would be us! We arrived with no harm done close to 10pm, got a quick tour of her beautiful new home then spent the next two hours catching up on our life’s journeys.

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Photos

Red Mountain Pass
Thousands of tons of gold and silver were mined here during the gold rush

Ouray
Also called "Little Swizterland"...could be because of the scenery but I think it's because of the outstanding hot chocolate!

Etta Place in Telluride
NOTE: THIS AWESOME SKI IN SKI OUT CONDO IN TELLURIDE IS FOR SALE!!!

Dave and I hike to the falls in Bear Creek
I was gasping for air and we were only half way there!

Hunga's Lotus Petal in Telluride
You simply have to get the amazing Caterpillar Roll here, the best I have ever eaten...anywhere!

Touring Mesa Winds Farm in Hotchkiss
Wink walks with Kate, Dave and Nathan explaining the intricacies of bringing water to the vineyard and orchards in the dry mesa

Ghost Town of Independence Pass
Here are the remains of the 1849 mining company in the Roaring Fork Valley

Fishermen find only ice at over 12,000 feet
If you look carefully you will see the hardy fishermen hiking down along the river

Sunset in Winter Park/Frazer
Addresses here were both at Frazer and Winter Park but it was beautiful wherever we were.

View of Grand Lake from Shadow Cliff at the S.E. edge of RMNP
Grand Lake is considered the headwaters of the Colorado River

Rocky Mountain Blue Bird
Leaving RMNP on the road to Boulder

Classice truck stop on the edge of nowhere, heading to Kansas
After finding no signs of civilization east of Denver we ended up exhausted at this motel close to 10pm

Historic Abilene Kansas
Home of the famous Chisholm Trail

Old Abilene Town
Wild Bill Hickok's home is "across the street" as is the original jail