Sunday, Sept. 26
With regret, we leave Chama, (which means “group”. It’s 44* and gold leaves are all over the
Coyote and truck. A flock of blackbirds
with about four inches of white tipped wings and breasts and a white “V” at the
shoulders flurry to get out of our path at the exit gate. Darrel says he remembers those from Alaska,
but I of course, just fell off the turnip truck, and have no memory of them.
On to Pagosa Springs, Colorado--upward
about 10,000 feet into the San Juan Mountains. After ten miles the temperature has dropped
to 35*. We stopped to take pictures of
the monument type mountains all around us.
A real estate sign says we could buy 43 acres for $69,000. What a good idea! A Colorado
horse ranch...I’m green with envy as we pass these farms. Aspens look like Eucalyptus trees except for
the yellow leaves no self-respecting Eucalyptus would don.
Monster mountain views at Pagosa Springs with alluvial fans
of black dirt below them. We pass the
Red Rider Rodeo Fairgrounds. It’s pretty
steep this morning at 9:00 a.m. A plume of steam curls off the sulfur springs
in the center of town. I bet that looks
eerie at night. Hmmm. The huge lumber yard is empty and
closed. I can’t tell if that’s due to
the economy or EPA. Gas is $3.20 (diesel). The air is so still that several giant
balloons are getting ready to take off.
Pretty spectacular up close. Very
user unfriendly for RVs.
The Albuquerque Balloon Festival starts next week. I guess these guys are just practicing, not
wanting to waste a perfect day for ballooning.
Thousands of people are in town.
Were looking for lunch in Durango,
but can’t take the Coyote down the narrow street to town. And we’re really disgusted about that. The big mountains have huge patches of orange
spread on them that have to be Aspen tree groves tucked
amongst the evergreens. From our
distance it looks like a random-patchwork quilt.
We’re in the high desert again--scarce coniferous trees about
20 ft. high--all plains surrounded by Rocky Mountains a
few hundred miles away. Highway 191 to Moab
, Utah is a scenic Rd., so I’ll
be interested to see what it’s about--dry land full of grasses and sagebrush. (Utah
means “one that is higher up.” Please
remind me I don’t want anything in Dove Creek County. Stark, brown, ugly treeless, junky. People must be tied to the land to stay. No farm animals even.
Utah’s
adjoining plains are planted in hay and sunflowers. Lots of clean sky and sideroads that go right
over the horizon. Traveling through Arches
National Park we see a distinct
formation called Church Rock. It looks
like a fat pile of dough with a couple of sporting horizontal colorful
striations, some resembling geodesic buildings.
Some look like a giant child dropped a top. Some look like castles. Just like Utah
pictures with caves in their cliffs. We
did take some pictures since there was a turnout available.
The land is adobe red now, sprinkled with brush. Freeway fenceposts are impaled in red
stone. I feel pretty insignificant in
relation to these formations. Not even a
person pebble.
Just before Moab
on 191 the ground looks like somebody overturned a rock truck for 20 miles
before town with a ton of homeless people squatted on this land--like Tijuana,
Mexico, in case you’ve
see that mess. They’re either
desperately poor or desperately stupid, but the city is charming--same western
town facades we’ve been seeing--so cute.
But it’s definitely an oasis on the desert. Not to mention a tourist trap. Even though the season is supposed to be over,
the place is overrun with tourists. We
tell ourselves we’re not lowly tourists.
I guess we’re just trailer trash.
We’ve taken 191 to the I-70 and West. Moab
is in a bowl with the Colorado River going through
it. Now the cliffs are back. I wonder what mineral would cause that
color. I-70 West turns totally
desolate. We’ve planned to overnight in Green
River--I hope it’s green--everything here is moonscape bald.
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