Welcome to the Wild West
Friday morning, June 9, was dedicated to sorting and packing my stuff and then packing the car. (Yes, I’m hauling that much stuff with me.) Then I headed north, seeing again the beautiful reddish-buff badlands that spread across one’s view as soon as topping the hill out of Santa Fe. At first, the drive was the same route as to Ghost Ranch, but I turned north on 285, passing through Ojo Caliente and Tres Piedras out of New Mexico. That route takes you on the far side of the Rio Grande rift from Taos, and the ragged blue of the Sangre de Cristos is a charming fellow traveler, paralleling the route north on the eastern horizon. Just shortly before crossing the border into Colorado, the higher, more jagged and snow-covered peaks of the northern Sangre de Cristo range appear in the far distance. The land changes from sagebrush grazing lands for antelope herds (part of the Carson National Forest) into irrigated fields of cow pasture. Short of Antonito, I drove through a cattle drive that was occurring right on the shoulders of the highway, complete with cowboys on horseback and lots of imposed-upon-looking cows.
At Alamosa, I stopped at the Sonic Drive-In for a last green chile cheeseburger (plus chocolate shake). I missed the turn that would have taken me up the “gun barrel” – an absolutely straight 50 miles of road in the middle of the San Luis Valley. (The San Luis Valley is a triangle of very flat land bordered on two sides by 14,000 foot peaks that drive the northbound traveler into Poncha Pass.) Instead I went northwest a stretch before turning north at Monte Vista for only 35 miles of absolutely straight road (actually, the true Gunbarrel) up to Saguache. Near Monte Vista, I crossed the Rio Grande, which at that point is only a mountain creek. At Saguache, the road turns east and skirts the edge of the mountains before joining up with Route 17 from Alamosa. There was a rainstorm over the mountains on my left side, but open, sunny sky on my right. The sun was behind me. At one point, huge drops of rain were lit by the sun as yellow streaks shooting down toward my windshield –- incoming at 11 o’clock, about a 30 degree angle. It was like special effects in a movie about a missile attack, or about flying a spaceship through an asteroid field. Fortunately, all that happened was a big Splat! as the gob of water hit the windshield.
There was rain on and off as I went up and over Poncha Pass. This afforded beautiful scenes, with a shaft of light through the clouds lighting a single pine-covered peak, or a sun drenched valley at the bottom of shadowed hills. Soon the road was next to the Arkansas River, which looked very full. The contrast to dry, dusty New Mexico was intense. Whilst New Mexico suffered from record low snowfall this winter, Colorado enjoyed record high snowfall. The swollen Arkansas was on the right; on the left were the impressive Collegiate Peaks still sporting snow in the shaded slopes of their bare heads.
The road climbs steadily to Leadville, a town at elevation 10,200 ft. I took a short stroll down the main street to find some coffee, enjoying the bracing air. For you Broadway fans, Leadville is where The Unsinkable Molly Brown (played by Debbie Reynolds in the movie) met her hubby. Then time to head down Tennessee Pass to I-70 near Vail. For the second half of this stretch, the road is a narrow ledge on an extremely steep slope, about 1000 feet above first the Tennessee Creek (??) and then the Eagle River, which joins up at Gilman, a tiny town of houses perilously clinging to Battle Mountain. Not a good place for sleepwalkers or persons subject to vertigo -- apparently no one lives there now, due to mining contamination (www.ghosttowns.com/states/co/gilman.html). Again, the streams looked very full.
By the time I stopped for gas at Avon, it was dark. I had a short stretch on I-70 (on which, despite the mountain curves, the speed limit is 75) to Wolcott, and then turned north on 131 for the last leg to Steamboat Springs. It was an exciting leg. First, a very curvy, unfamiliar road in the dark. For about 270 degrees, there was a lightning storm at the horizon, but behind me the moon was shining. That light went away during a heavy hailstorm. Then the hail halted and the road straightened out considerably, but just short of Yampa a dog chased a rabbit across the road, missing being struck by the car by inches. When I came to Oak Creek, a barrier across the highway announced a detour, which required me to take a sharp left and then a right onto a dirt road. This eventually became a paved road, but took me completely past Oak Creek. I kept waiting for the ambush. (I later learned that the Annual Soapbox Derby was the next day, and they had closed off the main street for that.) Coming out of the Oak Creek area, a fox ran across the road, with more margin of safety than the dog, and then a cat. Lots of suicidal animals in these parts. The road was now pretty straight and dry, and I thought I’d finally make good time, until coming upon a stretch of construction, in which they had completely ripped up the pavement and the ruts in the dirt were so deep that I bottomed out at one point. Pavement returned, and at last the lights of Steamboat Springs came into view, and the rest of the ride was fairly uneventful. Reporting on this last leg to my sister and brother-in-law, they said, “Welcome to the Wild West.” Nice to know there are still some unpolished edges out here.
At Alamosa, I stopped at the Sonic Drive-In for a last green chile cheeseburger (plus chocolate shake). I missed the turn that would have taken me up the “gun barrel” – an absolutely straight 50 miles of road in the middle of the San Luis Valley. (The San Luis Valley is a triangle of very flat land bordered on two sides by 14,000 foot peaks that drive the northbound traveler into Poncha Pass.) Instead I went northwest a stretch before turning north at Monte Vista for only 35 miles of absolutely straight road (actually, the true Gunbarrel) up to Saguache. Near Monte Vista, I crossed the Rio Grande, which at that point is only a mountain creek. At Saguache, the road turns east and skirts the edge of the mountains before joining up with Route 17 from Alamosa. There was a rainstorm over the mountains on my left side, but open, sunny sky on my right. The sun was behind me. At one point, huge drops of rain were lit by the sun as yellow streaks shooting down toward my windshield –- incoming at 11 o’clock, about a 30 degree angle. It was like special effects in a movie about a missile attack, or about flying a spaceship through an asteroid field. Fortunately, all that happened was a big Splat! as the gob of water hit the windshield.
There was rain on and off as I went up and over Poncha Pass. This afforded beautiful scenes, with a shaft of light through the clouds lighting a single pine-covered peak, or a sun drenched valley at the bottom of shadowed hills. Soon the road was next to the Arkansas River, which looked very full. The contrast to dry, dusty New Mexico was intense. Whilst New Mexico suffered from record low snowfall this winter, Colorado enjoyed record high snowfall. The swollen Arkansas was on the right; on the left were the impressive Collegiate Peaks still sporting snow in the shaded slopes of their bare heads.
The road climbs steadily to Leadville, a town at elevation 10,200 ft. I took a short stroll down the main street to find some coffee, enjoying the bracing air. For you Broadway fans, Leadville is where The Unsinkable Molly Brown (played by Debbie Reynolds in the movie) met her hubby. Then time to head down Tennessee Pass to I-70 near Vail. For the second half of this stretch, the road is a narrow ledge on an extremely steep slope, about 1000 feet above first the Tennessee Creek (??) and then the Eagle River, which joins up at Gilman, a tiny town of houses perilously clinging to Battle Mountain. Not a good place for sleepwalkers or persons subject to vertigo -- apparently no one lives there now, due to mining contamination (www.ghosttowns.com/states/co/gilman.html). Again, the streams looked very full.
By the time I stopped for gas at Avon, it was dark. I had a short stretch on I-70 (on which, despite the mountain curves, the speed limit is 75) to Wolcott, and then turned north on 131 for the last leg to Steamboat Springs. It was an exciting leg. First, a very curvy, unfamiliar road in the dark. For about 270 degrees, there was a lightning storm at the horizon, but behind me the moon was shining. That light went away during a heavy hailstorm. Then the hail halted and the road straightened out considerably, but just short of Yampa a dog chased a rabbit across the road, missing being struck by the car by inches. When I came to Oak Creek, a barrier across the highway announced a detour, which required me to take a sharp left and then a right onto a dirt road. This eventually became a paved road, but took me completely past Oak Creek. I kept waiting for the ambush. (I later learned that the Annual Soapbox Derby was the next day, and they had closed off the main street for that.) Coming out of the Oak Creek area, a fox ran across the road, with more margin of safety than the dog, and then a cat. Lots of suicidal animals in these parts. The road was now pretty straight and dry, and I thought I’d finally make good time, until coming upon a stretch of construction, in which they had completely ripped up the pavement and the ruts in the dirt were so deep that I bottomed out at one point. Pavement returned, and at last the lights of Steamboat Springs came into view, and the rest of the ride was fairly uneventful. Reporting on this last leg to my sister and brother-in-law, they said, “Welcome to the Wild West.” Nice to know there are still some unpolished edges out here.
posted by Annventurer | 3:24 PM
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