I wish I had a camera right now. One advantage of wifi is that I'm writing in an Adirondack chair on the covered deck by the pond, with a view of Mesa Verde. It's not actually raining, but thunderheads over all the mountains have convinced me to put off tenting again. *sigh* In front of me, though, the sun is setting, backlighting the clouds like a cheap painting, and Mesa Verde is glowing dusky pink. It's extremely nice. This is my last night wimping out, though.
So, anyway, about hiking. Monday, I got out of the car twice, not counting quick photo-ops and 2 air mattress forays. Once was to hike to Lost Lake on Cottonwood Pass. The other time (several times, really), was at Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. Black Canyon is really dramatic. If the Grand Canyon is a 10, this one's a 9, with some extra credit for not being completely overexposed. It's quite incredible for being so obscure, and incredible that it is so obscure. The walls are sheer, dark gneiss with infused magma forming abstract pink patterns. You need a guide and/or mountaineering equipment to go down into it at all--it's just miles of impressive cliffs, with the vivid green Gunnison River running at the bottom (and, despite the fact that it's almost two Empire State Buildings deep, you can hear the river rushing). I heartily recommend it as a priority on anyone's vacation itinerary. But don't do it like I did.
My guidebook said you can't hike into it, so I wasnt' too fussed about getting there at 4:15. There's a 7-mile scenic drive, several pullouts to gawk from, and you're on your way. I discovered this is a totally unsatisfying way to see a natural wonder. WAY too much car involvement. To properly appreciate something like this, you need time to commune with it. Time to settle into it. Time with just you and the rocks. Hopping in your car to drive 1/3 mile, then walk a 300-yard trail a dozen times just ruins the moment. I absolutely loved the canyon, but next time, here's the deal: Arriving at 4:15 IS the way to go, but the next thing to do is set up camp in the campground on the rim. Pop into the VC, picnic at Wilson Point, then watch sunset from there or Sunset View. The next day, go to a couple of the ranger talks, hike the Rim Trail, and pick a couple of short viewpoints to walk out to. This gives you time to actually get acquainted with the rocks, appreciate them without wondering what time Wendy's closes, and get away from the Texans.
In contrast, on Cottonwood Pass, I had insider information about an unmarked hike to a mountain lake. Instead of the fleeting (well, sort of) experience of driving over the pass, I had time to settle into it, let it become real. I heard the birds, over and over and over. I walked in the snow. I saw the tiny little alpine flowers. I smelled the pines (and got the sap all over my hands). I took pictures and left footprints. I had quality time with the mountains, and I feel like I was really there. I was able to notice little things, and to have an experience that wasn't vacuum-packed into a to-go capsule. Let this be a lesson to me in my future wanderings. An automobile visit is like speed dating--you're not seeing, you're just deciding if it's worth seeing.
I discovered a few other things worth seeing, too. The ride to Buena Vista on Saturday night, when I went over Wolf Creek Pass and up the middle of the state on 285, took just over 4 hours. Coming back via Cottonwood Pass and the San Juan Skyway took 8 driving hours. It's ALL mountains. The "Million Dollar Highway", between Ouray and Silverton, is definitely something I need to see more of. Ouray itself is utterly charming, squeezed tight between the mountains. The road has no shoulder at all, just a white line and a massive drop. I'm glad it wasn't raining, and I'm glad it was one of the longest days of the year...I'd have no desire to attempt that when it was at all dark or slippery. I hope I'll have more pictures and details to post about that before the summer's over. It did get dark before I got to Durango, which also was pretty neat. The sun falls behind the mountains long before it sets, so the snowy peaks are the last to go dark, glowing in the twilight long after the headlights come on. It also is pretty striking to look out into the darkness and see headlights snaking through some improbable place, knowing it's where I've just been despite the odd angle to where I am now.
I saw my first elk of the summer near Ridgeway. May I see many more, always a safe distance from the car. I also saw a cattle "drive", a huge herd of open-range cows walking up the winding road just before Gunnison. On and on they came, mooing and not much caring about the approaching cars.
Durango is another town that begs exploration. It's pretty big, maybe Boulder-size. I was supposed to go today, to pick up a participant who's arriving early, but Seth (or someone) had the date wrong. I was all ready to leave, when I went to check her flight information and it turns out she's arriving tomorrow. Unfortunately, I'm on dinner tomorrow and her flight gets in at 4:30, so the task will go to someone else.
I see headlights moving across the middle of Mesa Verde. I'm probably headed there on Friday.
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