All Good Things Must Come To An End (From Sunday, May 30th.)

Pic #1 - I wonder how long this ore cart has been hanging around up here?

Pic #2 - 24 degrees outside...brrrr.

Pic #3 - My favorite little town on earth, Ouray, Colorado

Pic#4 - I see what Masayuki was doing while we were sleeping

What a great sound to wake up to. Hearing the Uncompahgre River roaring passed the open window was like a beautiful song to my ears...one that only nature could compose and with the cool mountain air filling my lungs I pause and savor the moment before I walk out onto the balcony. Peeking to my left I could see the first rays of sunlight hitting the tops of the mountains while everything else below 13,000ft. was still cast in shadow. But for a small area on the north side of town, this entire community is surrounded by tall jagged peaks and is known as the "Switzerland of America". It's pretty much land-locked and retains a lot of the original architecture from the 1800's, and it also has not been overrun by the rich and famous like Aspen and Telluride have. The walk up and down 3rd street (Hwy 550, the "main drag") thru town is easy, although not flat as the town is pretty-much built on a slant. Be careful if you are drunk, you may trip and fall on one end of town and wind up rolling down the the other end. If you ever go there, you will quickly understand why this is my favorite place in all of Colorado, and perhaps anywhere for that matter. But knowing what I have to do is not what I want to do, I pulled myself away from the river...glancing back a time or two just to get another quick look. We packed up the truck and began to head south through town towards the Million Dollar Highway and the towns of Silverton and Durango. Along the way, we passed the Ouray Chalet Inn. The last time I was here, I called this little hotel "home" for 5 days and it was the starting point for many hair-raising, butt puckering 4-wheel-drive adventures in the mountains surrounding this little Heaven on Earth. Amanda, my parents, and my nieces Sarra and Marissa were with me that first week of June, 2002. One more thing I have to thank my Dad for is introducing me to "Jeeping" in the mountains. There are so many beautiful sights that most travelers never get to see unless they get off the main highways and do some exploring. Yes, some of it is scary but ultimately the rewards are worth the risk. But the risk doesn't deter me...knowing full well that if I'm careful I have no greater chance of getting killed on these roads as I do driving down I-12 to work every day. At least up here there is virtually no chance of running into someone putting on their makeup while talking on a cell phone and eating a biscuit at 75mph. The vast majority of these folks are very courteous and are here for the same reasons as me...they understand the dangers and purpose of traversing these old wagon trails, railroad beds, and mining roads in order to share in the reward...knowing that so few people will lay eyes on these same vistas. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but it's priceless when you add feeling the breeze, breathing the super clean mountain air, listening to the streams and rivers and wind blowing through the trees (up to about 11,500ft anyway...trees don't grow at higher elevations), seeing a deer, bighorn sheep, or bear going about their lives off in the distance, and feeling the warm Colorado sun on your skin. No traffic, no radio, no cell phones. Just nature. Anyway, back on track here, as we reach the end of town (which is a very short drive) the road immediately begins to climb steeply, with a series of switchbacks welcoming us to on of the most dangerous roads in the country. After a quick stop to get some pics of the town from above we head deep into the mountains and watch as the temperature drops on the thermometer in the truck and experience the coldest temperatures we encounter on the trip...24 degrees. After going through a couple tunnels and enjoying the breathtaking views, we pass the entrance to Engineer Pass. This 4WD road is popular because of its easy access off the main highway and access to other old mine roads that are prevalent throughout the San Juan mountains. I conquered this road in 2002 and really wished I had a 4WD right NOW cause we would be driving up this bad boy. It ultimately leads to Silverton, which is our next destination but I have to suck it up and take the blacktop to town. After stopping a few places along the way and checking out some old mines and old log cabins we pulled into Silverton and replenished the ice and gassed up. Although this town is a little bigger than Ouray, it retains a lot of its charm and architecture and is among my favorite places. AS we drove through town towards the road that would take us to Animas Forks (a great, and popular, ghost town) I kept an eye out for the campground at the end of town where we used to stay. As we drive up to it I see absolutely no signs of life there. The campground is closed...and it appears not just temporarily as many businesses will do for the winter...but for good. This is another special place for me. I can distinctively remember lying on my back on the smooth, weathered rocks next to the river at night and looking up at the most stars I've ever seen in my life. The only sounds being the gently rolling, shallow Animas River as it passes within a few feet of me...the wind through the trees that comes and goes as breezes pass by...kinda sounds like rain coming at you from a distance, catching up to you, and passing you by and the occasional wold or coyote somewhere in the mountains. It was the first time I actually saw satellites as they orbit the Earth. They appear as just pinpoints of light...kinda like a shooting star with the light trail and going much slower. They come from every direction as they make their way through space at 17,000mph...although from here they look like they are traveling at 7mph. The millions of stars put off just enough light to make out the silhouettes of the surrounding mountains and cause the snowfields near the tops of the peaks to glow. If there was ever a time and place where I felt the most at peace, I believe this was it. I'm sure everyone has "that place" they can go where all is right...for some it may be church, others it may be hiding out sittin on the toilet for awhile, a walk on the lakefront, in a hotel room with your buddies and a case of beer and funnel, your living room watching your kids play, or that moment when you say "hey ya'll watch this" just before you put the fake roach on your sister's table. I often think about that experience (lying by the river, not the fake roach), but it was amplified when I actually passed the campground. I thought "man I'd love to buy that place and bring it back to life"...who knows...maybe one day. AS we leave the pavement behind and start to climb in elevation we pass old mines and plenty other trucks as this is a fairly easy stretch of road to Animas Forks, which sits at a crossroads for other 4WD trails. There is actually a mine along the way where ore cars, still holding their cargo, hang from cables spanning the valley dozens of feet in the air...frozen in time (see pic above). Who knows how long they have been hanging there...50...60...80 years...at any rate it's very intriguing to see. The last third or so of the road to Animas Forks is where it starts to turn rough. There is a huge sign explaining that only high-clearance and 4WD vehicles should proceed from that point. More on that a little later. As we pressed on, sections of the road are just enough for one vehicle to fit. We made is passes those areas with relative ease and then I got a glimpse of the town and just said "ahhhhh" to myself. OK so maybe it was because I had some flatulence (beef jerky for breakfast), but it was also because I had the feeling of meeting up with an "old friend" again. Last time I was here was 8 years ago, but that trip was not my first time visiting this historic place. I had been here a few times before as a kid, riding in the back seat of a rented Jeep Wrangler that my Dad was driving. I remember getting sunburned back there too but I didn't care. Well, just before we got to the town I noticed the orange cones at a spot where the road crossed over the Animas River. Whoa...now this sight made me a bit nervous. The road had obviously been washed out at some point...and not too long ago. It was repaired but it kinda looked like if you take one of those real skinny Band-Aids from the box (you know the ones I'm talking about) and try to cover a brush-burn the size of a silver dollar on your arm. The repair was not the whole width of the road, which was small enough as it was already...and the river was rolling along at a pretty good clip underneath the road. I was not going to let that sop me so we went across and let me tell you...when I say I had no room to spare on either side of my truck I had NO room. It would not have ended up good had I not crossed it just right. There were quite a few spots where Danny and I talked about his 4WD dually and where we could NOT have gone with it. This is definitely one of those places. But no risk, no reward, right? I was determined to get to the town. There is not a lot of preservation goin on here and it's the same story at many of these ghost towns. The severe winters at these elevations take their toll on these old log homes and businesses. In may towns only a handful of buildings remain were at one time dozens or even hundreds of structures once stood. Between the optional practice of actually taking the timber to new towns back in the day, vandals, fire, and the elements of weather an time these places are destined to eventually disappear for good. Some already have and are nothing more than a place-marker on specialized maps for enthusiasts like me...no physical traces to be found. We walked around a bit and of course I took plenty of pictures (look for them on my website). Again...reluctantly we had to leave even though I really didn't want to. We passed the little sliver of a river crossing and were making our way back down. There was a group of Jeeps off to the side setting up camp or a picnic and I surely was wishing I was up there with them to enjoy the scenery for awhile longer. And then we see a little car coming up...a red Cobalt. WTF?? They clearly did not see the sign back there about the high-clearance and 4WD vehicles only. Then I thought...perhaps "high clearance" is up for interpretation. Kinda like "beauty is in the eye of the beholder". I'm thinkin at this point they just won't make it because we had just traversed the roughest part of the road and it was very rocky. I found a spot to pull over along the one-lane road to allow them room to pass and they stopped. The driver asked me how much further up the road was the town...in his German accent. Dang tourists ignoring the warning signs LOL. So I told him it wasn't too far up the road and we marched on in different directions...me wishing I was heading the way they were instead of the way we were. We bid adieu to Silverton and made our way down to Durango where we had a late lunch/early dinner at Dairy Queen. I sure wish we had those around here...maybe I'll open up one of those too...maybe one day. The talk turned to heading home as I think the pace of the trip was catching up to us and the plan was to start heading home in about 12 hours anyway, so we decided to keep on going. Since the route was going to bring us through Albuquerque I decided to call my funloving cousin Kim and see if she would be home about 7p.m. And whaddaya know...she was in Vegas so we just kept on truckin'. Leaving Albuquerque and heading east on I-40 I was in familiar territory. Route 66, which I drove the length thru Texas and New Mexico last year, parallels the interstate in a lot of places. Sometimes it crisscrosses I-40, sometimes it hugs it, sometimes it's under it, and sometimes it just fades off into the dusty plains with barely a whimper. For as long as the sun gave me enough light to see, I looked out the side windows driving along at about 85mph (the speed limit is 75, but if you ain't doin at least 80 you gonna get run over) at some of the old portions of the overgrown pavement in the distance and thought about all those travelers who drove the Mother Road out west looking for the American Dream. And I think about all those people driving along the interstate having no idea of the crumbling history that sits 100 yards away (at times). Every now and then I'll catch a glimpse of an old bridge just sitting out there on the plains...the old stretch of highway that approached it is long gone...as will the bridges be gone too one day I suppose. And will anyone ever care that this history is now history? I know I will...and I will carry those memories with e always. For me, that will have to do I guess. So as I gaze upon these relics the setting sun put no a magnificent display and a fitting goodbye to New Mexico and Colorado. It was absolutely beautiful...and completely in my rear view mirror which served as another reminder that my truck was pointed east...in the direction of home. One last place I wanted to stop was the Cadillac Ranch just outside Amarillo, Texas, but alas the Earth spun too fast for me and it was dark by the time we got there. I lost all my pics from this iconic spot last year...well not really lost but somehow I didn't back them up before I cleared my memory cards. Oh well, yet another reason to head out west again soon. Danny and I traded driving duties and I got myself some sleep. As we were heading back into Dallas I took over again and prepared for the last leg of the trip. We passed the old picnic area again (which I totally believe is gone now...*sigh*...) and the old familiar gas station just before where the railroad goes over HWY 380 in Denton. We jumped back on the interstate and so ended the back-roads travel. Interstate all the way home now. And as the sun was coming up, the all too familiar sticky, humid, and hot air greeted us like a 300 pound bully. Just 24 hours ago I woke up to the sweet music of the Uncompahgre River and cool mountain air. I wanted to turn around and head west so bad, but the realities of life awaited me back home. Work, cutting the grass, and the nice surprise my friends left me. As I walked in the front door I found my daughter's bed set up nice and neat in my living room. At least the bed was made..sheets tucked in tight, comforter turned down, and stuffed animals chillin out. I couldn't help but laugh...and start planning my revenge. I was too tired to put everything back where it belonged...and besides...they did such a good job I had to savor it for awhile...before it became history. Classic move ladies...but remember..it's us quiet ones you should fear the most.....hahahahahahahaha.