I was finishing up a walk down the main drag (Elk Avenue)checking out a mining museum, a rock and mineral shop and some clothing, aka souveniers. Crested Butte is a coal mining town, long past it's heyday, now hay pastures and tourists. The Victorian homes build in the late 19th century are painted up in the cliche pastels of violet, maroon, blue, green. One house is sided in license plates. Up the road a few miles is Mt. Crested Butte, the ski center, the fancy shops and where the money people stay. I'll hang in the valley, keeping it real. I buy a shower at the International Hostel, which makes me a tad uneasy after seeing the movie "Hostel". They laughed, but still, isn't it unusual to find a chainsaw atop a bathroom counter.
I took an easy 10 mile drive back to my camp at the Raggeds Wilderness. The thought of another version of "Night of the Grizzlies" at camp was unbearable. I took a side tour at Kebler Pass down a tough road to Ohio Pass, my latte was jumping out of the cup with every rut. I cut a few miles down to get a better look at the cylindrical volcanic Carbon Peak and the Eastern terminus of the Anthracite Range. I spotted my bear buddies a quarter of a mile off in a meadow, with her 2 cubs, they were barely moving. They tumbled and played in the grass. About 10 minutes later Ma was gnawing on a carcus or something. Since bears can smell food 4 miles away they could be back in camp but they seemed pretty content here. Slightly farther down the road I saw the formation called the Castle Peaks, a bunching of eroded volcanic spikes spires and towers. On my way back a caravan of ranch hands had stopped to view the bear. I told them about it's ramblings in the campground 4 miles away. The bears did not make an appearance that night.
After back to back 9 milers I decided to take a day at camp, watching time flow in the form of the sun moving across the sky, giving way to the moon and stars. I crisp 44 degree morning calls for some fire brewed coffee and blueberry pancakes on the Coleman burner. I watch the Ruby range to my right, the Anthracite range to my left, and Lake Irwin below me change in the varying intensity and angles of sunlight. Flower stuffed meadows surround me. I read, I write, do a little 'rithmetic (the 3 R's a perfect complement to a heavy breakfast). I take some short walks to scout out a wildcat hike up to the crest of the rugged Ruby Range for a future visit. Time is nebulous, like Dali's watch draped over a rock, flows like a mountain stream, slowly but always forward. This landscape would be stunning in late Sept with the massive groves of Aspen. Also during mid July when wildflowers peak. Evening light fades like a leaf falling from a tree. Now it is fire and star time, the moon a perfect quarter phase. Calm and quiet, the earth spins on its axis, unheard but not unseen.
GLENWOOD: This is get and go day. Start a coffee fire and shortly roll the slow 40 miles of gravel to the main blacktop artery at the Paonia resevoir. Travel is slow in the mountains. I follow the now subdued Crystal River, the class V rapids now muted with low cfs flows. Into Glenwood and back to camping on the Colorado. Relax and read and write and watch the river and all it conveys. This harmony shattered at regular intervals by 100 car coal trains moving up and down river around a horseshoe bend. The steel wheels doth protest loudly against their steel rail captors, screaming and squeeling in a 110 decimal bursts. At night, I awaken suddenly every time, certain a huge metal shed is collapsing on me. It's cool. But a hot 93 along the low 5k elevations of the river. A batch of thunder and clouds pushes sideways across the canyon throwing down a few cool sprinkles.
STEAMBOAT: Roll the next day the 200 miles north up to Strawberry Springs, a natural hot springs 7 miles up in the moutains out of Steamboat Springs - my launch point for the endurance drive home. Steamboat is less amped, more town but like all places in Colorado, busy with Front Rangers on the weekends. I grab some dyno calzone and salad at Cugzino's. Make the requisite stop at "Off the Beaten Path", a hip bookstore/coffee shop/bakery/micro cafe. I see by the sign on the door this year that the health codes have caught up with them, dogs are no longer welcome in the store. A cold front is moving in bringing clouds and sprinkles. I eat my chow in the Olympic ski jump/rodeo/baseball grounds.
A couple hour soak in near sulpher free hot springs is the ticket. This year they have built a huge stone fireplace by the pools, must be 15 feet tall. Not many people here. I read and relax at my cabin heating up some sweet treats on the grill, sipping a little cherry wine and chasing it with a sweet Colorado peach. Tomorrow is roll time
HOME: A quick soak and then roll to Steamboat to get the early pickings of a blueberry creame cheese croissant. I'm off on a 15 hour straight drive through with 5 stops for chow or petro. Over the Volcanic towers at Rabbit Ears Pass, 40 miles of the best hay in the world in North Park into Walden and up and over the mountains into Laramie. The Laramie Fly Shop summarizes Wyoming well, here you can get gas, trout flys, liquor, guns, ammo, and cigarettes - pretty all a real man of the west needs, and a can of chew to go eh.
Grab I25 to Orin Junction, the last outpost of civilization until the Black Hills. I see a cloud bank some 50 miles off to the NE. 50 miles later I see a gray sheet coming down from the sky to the ground. Suddenly I am driving through a dark sheet of water, can barely see, slow down to 20 mph, the wipers can't clear the water, it gets near black, minutes later I drive out of the intensity into clear skies. The Hills do have intense summer T-storms. Eventually make my way to I90 and the never ending clack clack of strips of highway, fortunately I sleep through most of it. Just kidding, I am pilot, copilot, and chief entertainer on this trip. Telephone poles change to miles change to haystacks change to county lines turns to Minnesota. Day turns to night. Moths and grasshoppers coat the windshield oblivious to my annoyance at the degree to which they hinder my vision. This isn't NASCAR but you don't waste a pit stop to scrape 2" of guts off your windshield. You combine the gas up, bat room, coffee, bug scraping, and chow into a mega pit stop. Tick, tick, time is running; in and out in 15 minutes, a pretty relaxing stop, but then I did wash my hands too. Finally the I35 road north to Minneapolis, I do plan on making a right turn well before the "bridge", or the bridge that was. Through the old digs of Owatonna into the burbs and hello house and home. I pour myself out of the seat, feel a bit like I spent the night in a washing machine. Now if I could turn that washing machine into a time machine I would travel back in time 2 weeks and redo my vacation!
NOTES & OBSERVATIONS:
COLORADO: Outside of California, Colorado is the most diverse and beautiful state (sand dunes, gunnison canyon, mountains, Colo Plateau desert, etc). I'd move to Colorado but then I'd have to get 2 dogs and become a handyman.
WOOD & FIRE: I carry lots of wood with me, usually red oak from our family cabin up north. No, it is not like carrying coals to Newcastle or taking beer to Wisconsin. This wood burns slow with little smoke, has high BTU, coals out beautifully and leaves little ash. Aspen & Pine native to Colorado, opposite. The wood fire is the center of the hive, the crux of all, I cook with it, keep warm by it, write by it, and provides the spiritual lift under a starry sky. Does it dissuade Bears, I don't know, if you don't have any food out I'd say sure.
LANTERNS: One last rant on this. IF you must shine high powered lights at night, consider casting an amber spectrum light. You really don't need high amps unless you are running a watch repair business out of your campsite or experimenting with nanobot technology.
RMM: One of my favorite punching bags. RMM is the outsource firm the Forest Service uses to collect camping fees and "run" the campgrounds. I'd say they're doing an outstanding job in taking money and not investing 1 dime into the camping facilities. I believe RMM (Rocky Mountain Mismanagement) is bilking us users out of our money. There is no excuse for not having bear proof dumpsters. It would be like storing your sugar outside and being surprised that ants are getting in it. They seem to think an outhouse should last as long as the Washington monument. I've seen some foundations eaten away by termites and mice to the point of toppling. Come on, have the road graded once a year. Could the campsites possibly be any more unlevel. How hard is it to make the driveway level, when the grader grades the road you could do a basic blading of the the worst campsite drives. Some are at such an angle I feel like I'm at Cape Canaveral. How about a refund for unused nights. They didn't seem to mind keeping all the money of the people who bailed out because of the bears, and then shamelessly double collect when a newbie moves into the site (that would be me). What I'm saying is, don't manage things like the government.
Keep it real. I will be travelling, up to Lake Superior, down the Mississippi for fall leaf peeping and camping trips. Stay tuned.
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