Colorado

It seems like we've done a lot and not blogged about since our last post.  I guess we have, we've taken down all of southwest Colorado, left it in ruins.

Let's look back chronologically shall we.

June 16th - 17th, Mesa Verde NP: 

The Cliff Place

This was my (Boyd) third trip to Mesa Verde, and while the first two were at age 4 and 12 I remembered quite a lot about the place.  Those memories did nothing to take away from the sense of awe.  It's haunting to walk around relics (ruins don't do the preservation justice) that are 800 years old.  We toured the Cliff Place and Spruce Tree House the first day and the next day we toured the Long House and the Step House.  It's so arid there that building timbers, painted petroglyphs and even corn survives from the Pueblo's time there.

While Mesa Verde is World Heritage site, and quite a draw as National Parks go, it was kind of quiet there, especially in comparison to Arches or Yosemite which at time felt more like the work of Walt Disney and less of the work of Nature.  Tickets are required to go on the more popular dwellings, which seemed to help weed out the crowds.  Not because of the price, because they were only $3.  More likely because it required following simple instructions and reading the large posted signs.  And reading can be hard.

June 17th - 18th, Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP: 

Two Empire State Building tip-to-tip could fit in there

More canyons!!!  The West is full of canyons that 1930's America just didn't get around to filling with dams and reservoirs.  And while yes green hyrdopower and cool drinks are great, so are canyons and wild rivers.  Never heard of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP you say, well we can think good ol' Slick Willy for signing it into existence in 1999.  

We drove north from Mesa Verde into the middle of Colorado, driving over 10,000' passed and through flush spring meadows and aspen groves.  We tried to see the town of Telluride, but they were having their bluegrass festival, which judging by the road check points, endless traffic and people camped out where ever they could, is kind of a big deal.  We could tell it's not really a bluegrass festival because A: it's in the wrong mountains and B: the Decemberist were the headliners.  Bluegrass now means whiny alt-folk-rock to twenty-somethings, not hillbillies with mandolins.

The Black Canyon was again, an amazing hole in the earth.  Only a couple million years old (which is a baby in geology) and carved through tough igneous rocks, it makes a 1500' plus shear chasm in otherwise rolling hills.  We saw a bobcat and went on a ranger led night hike.  A good time had by all.  I assume it was good for the bobcat anyway. 

June 18th, Ouray to Silverton CO:


We left the Black Canyon and headed south once again, through another stretch of high mountain passes and old west towns and abandoned mines.  Our first stop was at Ouray, just north of the Red Mountain Pass (11,600') along the Million Dollar Highway.  A million dollars was a lot more money back then.  We had a nice lunch at the Ouray brewery and walked around town some.  We stopped in a liquor store to get me a new bottle of bourbon.  The guy running the counter went off about how they just got back in stock some Silverton Brewery beer after the "fire."  We told him we just finished a beer, but since we were headed that way we'd be sure to check it out.

So on to Silverton, famous for being the terminus to the Durango to Silverton narrow gauge steam railroad and frozen in time from it's mining days.  We poked around town some until we found said brewery located next to two very burned buildings, but open none the less.  We stopped in just as they were closing, which was odd since it was 4:30PM.  The owner/brewer/bartender told us they were shutting down in a bit for the Taste of Silverton and told us we had to check it out.  So we did.

Another beer, more food

Pretty much a locals thing and a reason to celebrate the melting of all the snow, a lot of the town's restaurants camp out on Blair St, serve delicious cheap grub while local musicians play to the crowd lounging on picnic tables.  It was a great, laid back affair and the kind of small town thing I didn't know existed anymore.  We were sad to leave.  Even sadder when we couldn't find a camping spot south of town and had to get a $100 tiny-ass motel room in Durango to keep from sleeping in the car.

So here we are, present time in Durango.  We're off to explore it some and then down to Santa Fe and New Mexico.  Wait, there's a New Mexico.