On our way to #7

From the Flint Hills to the windmills, post rock country to cattle country, and all the farmland between…guess what state we crossed to get to our go-to playground.  If you guessed the Czech Republic, I have no words for you.  But if you guessed Kansas, you would be right, cause we are back in Colorado for our another house sit opportunity.

First time I captured the Welcome to Colorful Colorado sign with my cell

phone camera, not blurry, and not swerving back on the road!

Numerous trips...numerous attempts...  Never say never!

Woo-Hoo!  (Don't tell Beth, she was asleep)

One year ago this month, Beth and I joined TrustedHousesitters to aid us in exploring fun and interesting places.  But up until now, we have landed in places and connected with people (and pets) that are in our comfort zone.  And Colorado is one of those places.  In return, we’ve cared for really loveable pets, met some interesting people, and have tried to feel and interact with the area we are visiting, as if we were locals.  In other words we are wandering wannabes. 

We are back where we started last August, upon landing our first house sit.  Summit County.  To respect the privacy of the pets and their owners, assume the names I refer to here in print have been changed.  But let’s backup a week to see what happened after crossing the Sunflower State.

With 6 days before our responsibilities begin for two personable cats at 9,035’, we are visiting some new territory for Beth in Colorado.  Our first stop took us to Salida, CO.  With a few stories from a ski bum friend of mine that spent time near Salida, from his “formative years,” we decided to visit the town to see if there was any residual damage to his reputation from his stay that we might repair in good conscience for him.  Fortunately there were no tattered wanted posters or faded bathroom wall poetry with his name attached, that we saw, so our job was easy.  We experienced some good food and a few shops, walked along the Arkansas River on their riverwalk, did some “rock climbing”, and enjoyed an abbreviated concert at their outdoor amphitheater, followed by a nights sleep.  With what I am guessing was a continental breakfast in our bellies, we then headed for Pagosa Springs.

This kayak strewn alley is actually a sought out photo destination for weddings
and other popularly photographed events.

We were so happy to be out of the car and at our first destination, we couldn't
help but show it on our faces!

Beth takes a moment to fulfill her dream of being on stage. Belting out Pat
Benatar's "Heartbreaker."

Climbing a rock wall, a full two and one
half feet off the ground.  Her technique was
something to behold.

With summer vacation traffic still light, the drive to Pagosa was easy on the nerves.  We passed through mountain valleys, where snow still tops the peaks and had a view of The Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve before swinging west and leaving it in our rear view mirror.  After stopping on the outskirts of South Fork for lunch, at Ramon’s Mexican Restaurant (recommended by a coffee barista where Beth got her morning fix), we made the final push over Wolf Creek Pass and down into the springs. 

But a sign on the road we’d observed a few times approaching the pass, about “No Wide Loads” except during a specified time each day, became more clear when we pulled onto the road after lunch.  Evidently they limit Wide Loads to a window of time on these narrow mountainous roads.  And this window opened minutes before our wheels pulled away from Ramon’s and toward the pass.  At 2:03 pm, we found ourselves right behind a Wide Load, that was traveling legally up the pass, starting at 2:00 pm.  It was as if he were a sailboat participating in a regatta, whose timing at the starting line was spot on!  Due to his width and narrowness of the road itself (no shoulders!), there was no passing anytime soon.  Instead of getting a little testy (like that ever happens to me), it was like watching a reality TV show, just waiting for something bad to happen.  The lead warning vehicle, with its yellow lights pulsing and red flags waving, evidently got oncoming traffic’s attention enough so they would pull over as much as they could and allowed the Wide Load to slip by, with not much room for error.  It was quite the experience to witness.  Assuming the truck driver was either wearing Depends or stopped frequently to clean out his pants, he earns every white-knuckle dollar he gets.  Hats off and clean pants to the driver of that rig, because he made a slow drive very exciting!

No room for error! Did I mention there was a tunnel too?  And there was a
was a semi truck and trailer coming in the opposite direction?  Thank
goodness, the tunnel was wider than the road.

We did, eventually, get to pass Mr. Wide Load (and I’m not referring to his pants) and Pagosa Springs soon came into view.  We were drawn to this area by word of mouth and we decided to splurge and spend a couple of nights at The Springs Spa & Resort.  With its 20+ named “pools,” like “Clouds in my Coffee” (what?) and “Lobster Pot” (very appropriate!), we checked in and began our first trip to the hot water buffet.  If you stay at the resort, you have access to the hot pools anytime of the day or night.  You have your own bathrobes to wear to and from the spa area, which comes in handy when you exit a pool. Especially if there is a slight breeze at all, let alone the cool mountain air.  It has an interesting and long history, along with tourists willing to drop a chunk of change to bask along the banks of the San Juan River year round.

The Springs Resort & Spa next to the San Juan River, looking upstream...

...and down stream.

With V.I.P. access, an evening dip, then
drying our tootsies by the fire as the sun sets.

A short hike the next day revealed a grove
of huge aspen.

This pose was for size comparison only.  Massive aspen (say that real fast 3 times)

Next stop…Crested Butte, CO.  Our route heading north took us through some of the most beautiful fall aspen viewing country I’d ever seen.  One of the first things on the list to see after retiring, were the fall colors in Colorado.  Places like Creede, Lake City, Gunnison, and all points in between were truly ablaze with yellows, oranges and reds on the aspen that year.  But this time of year, the leaves have literally just unwrapped themselves and the fall colors are a long way off.

After a short stop in Gunnison, to stretch our legs (shopping), we continued on to the Butte.  Our two nights there were spent at the Nordic Inn, one of the few places to stay, that was not a condo.  Known for its wildflower festival in July, CB is a mecca for mountain bikers in the summer and skiing in the winter.  Like other mountain towns, it has its share of good restaurants, shops to browse, and a list of festivals and concerts to keep the tourists coming all summer long.

First Farmer's Market of the season.

"Wild"flowers found on a trail! 

Our pre-house-sitting vacation waned as we said goodbye to Crested Butte and pointed towards Summit County and house sit #7, in a year’s time.  Leaving CB, we took a “short cut” through Cottonwood Pass (a gravel road going up to the pass and paved coming down the other side) that dumped us out of the mountains into Buena Vista.  This route saved about 45 miles, but literally no time.  We made a fuel stop there and proceeded on to Fairplay and lunch with some good friends, whom we’d house sat and watched their dog, Maxx, back home.  Refueled in a different way, we made our way to Greg and Susi’s place where we would hold up for the night before starting our responsibilities as trusted house sitters. 

Looking back down Cottonwood Pass from hence we came.

My Zen From the Road:  After arriving at Susi's, we walked to the lake where she shared with us a labor of love she discovered a few days earlier.  While walking her dog one morning, she came upon a man at the lake's edge, moving large river rock that was exposed at the waters edge while water levels are low.  She watched for awhile and it was apparent that he was creating something, as he carefully and thoughtfully placed each rock.  After inquiring what he was doing, he shared with her that the figure he was sculpting with the rock, was a man with his hands up in the air as if celebrating.  And indeed this man was celebrating six years of sobriety.  This was his way of giving thanks to God and the universe, he told her.   She never saw him after that day and as the snow melts in the higher elevations of the mountains and it makes its way to the reservoir, the celebrating man of rock is gradually covered by the snowmelt.  With any luck, next spring, as the lake is at lower levels again, maybe the rock man and his creator will be back to celebrate #7.

Each day more snowmelt covers the celebrating rock man.