Montrose, May 25, 2016

I know what you’re thinking: “Dale, why the desert?  Why does it always have to be the desert?  Don’t you ever go anyplace else?  It’s all rocks and lizards, arroyos and tumbleweeds.  What’s the deal, didn’t your mother breast feed you as an infant?”

Well the answer to the last question is: I don’t remember.  But it doesn’t always have to be the desert.  I can deal with another geoclimatological zone (hooray, I made up another word).  I’ll show you that I can be flexible; starting right now.

Wednesday morning it was up, shower and out the door by 0800 hrs (that’s eight o’clock in the morning for you civilian types).  A quick stop for gas and then about ten minutes of driving around Cortez looking for my highway (yes, I got lost again!) out of town.  It was about a block away from my motel, but in the opposite direction from the gas station.

I chose to take CO-145 on this, the last leg of my outward journey.  It is one of two routes to Montrose. The other, US-550, is quite the white knuckler, but more about that on the return trip (this is known as a tease in the advertising game), CO-145 might as well be named the Dolores Highway as it runs through Dolores County, through the town of Dolores, along the Dolores River.  Local lore is that this Dolores chick really got around.

If you ever wondered where San Diego's water comes from, well it starts right up there.

The drive needs little descriptive language as the photographs below serve well to tell the story.  This (compared to say, US-550) is an easy drive for an old hand and not so terribly challenging that a less experienced mountain driver wouldn’t be able to negotiate it.  It has some significant elevation changes but the road is in good repair with no intimidating no-shoulder drop-offs to the side, hairpin turns or switchbacks.  And this is important because you will want to be able to take in the scenery as it goes by.

GPS Elevation at Lizard Head Pass

The elevation reaches over 10,000 feet at its apex.  At ten o’clock in the morning (that’s 1000 hrs to you mil types) the temperature at Lizard Head Pass was 47^o F… I was wearing cargo shorts and a polo shirt, in case you noticed the camera shake.  The highway runs through the town of Rico (shown below), past the side route to Telluride and into Placerville where I turned north onto CO-62.  It is a short drive to reach Ridgeway, the town where the John Wayne version of True Grit was filmed.  A funny aside:  When I was a teenager and saw the movie True Grit, I noted to myself and anyone who would listen, “I’ve been to Oklahoma (the setting for the story), and that is not Oklahoma.” You can’t get many passed me.

Rico, CO

Rico graveyard, right by the side of the highway

The next turn is onto US-550 which has been drained of its venom by this time.  It is a leisurely drive through the farmland of Montrose County into the city itself.   I will not boar you with the tedium of family activities.

I will begin my trip home in a couple of weeks, so stay tuned.  If anything of note happens in the meantime (and if you really knew me well you would know how high the probability runs), I will write you from jail. 

May 24, 2016 Montrose

I left St. George, Utah with little fanfare and no breakfast to charge into Indian Country, i.e., Navajoland.  My first waypoint was Hurricane, Utah.  It has changed significantly since I was last there (circa 1997).  The heretofore two-lane main street is now a five-lane boulevard and the once antiquated storefronts are new and shiny.  The town has expanded to the west with nationally recognized retailers, mostly fast food outlets. Hurricane continues to exist as a jump off point for the National Park recreation offers in the area; Zion, Bryce, Lake Powell, et al.  I am glad to see it is thriving.

From Hurricane, I proceeded along state highways 59 and 389 into Arizona and the little hamlet of Fredonia, Arizona.  I am convinced that Fredonia survives only to sell alcohol to persons of thirst preparing to travel into the National Park rich, but somewhat dry, Utah. I counted one gas station and three liquor stores among the four businesses in the town.  From Fredonia, the road turns north where in a matter of yards, you enter Kanab, Utah where you can buy the non-alcoholic provisions for your expedition. From Kanab, I had two choices to reach the day’s destination, Cortez, Colorado.

This gets confusing if you are not familiar with the area or if you do not have a map in your hand. Both options are numbered US-89.   I am not going to try to explain it verbally.  Let it suffice to say I took the leg that skirts the southern edge of the Escalante-staircase National Monument and it is spectacular.  For my money… well actually, it is fee free on US-89, it is the most impressive non-fee drive I have encountered.  Someday, it will be a destination; stay tuned.

This route eventually meanders to Page, Arizona; launching point for Lake Powell.  The water level in the lake is depressingly low.  Too bad, there are few locales in the world as stunning as Lake Powell from water level.  I got lost in Page.  It’s a lot easier than you think.  But it is a small town and in driving about looking for the road out, I wandered into an old part of town known as the little hotel district.  It’s actually one street lined with utilitarian rental complexes that look as if they were built for workers during the construction of Glen Canyon Dam.  Now they seem to operate as hostels for thrifty world travelers.  What do you think, Tumbleweed?

Finding my way out of Page (it was even odds) I took AZ-98 to the southeast to meet up with US-160 running northeast along the southern extreme of Monument Valley and Kayenta, Arizona.  Again, these are scarcely traveled highways that offer incomparable visuals.  I never tire of the experience.

Eventually the route takes you into more familiar geology and through some really ugly desert as you pass four corners (if you are unfamiliar with this term, look it up) and into Colorado.  Cortez is the first city you encounter; it’s life blood is farming and tourist services for nearby Mesa Verde National Park.  I found the lone surviving Mexican restaurant and enjoyed a cheese enchilada and tamale.  While there were quainter motels, I chose a Travel Lodge:  The photo below explains it all.

San Juan Mountains from Cortez

 

Cortez is a city by definition

May 23, 2016 - Montrose

Well here I am tearing up the roads of America once again in search of…

I have no idea.  But so long as the objective remains undefined, I will never have to admit I have completed the pursuit.  If that makes perfect sense to you then you are reading the right blog.

This journey targets the city of Montrose, Colorado… eventually.  It is the home of my sole surviving aunt, Barbara Coster (nee Frank).  But I will spare you the family story.  What I do want to share with you is the experience of the road trip.  I am amazed at the number of people I have met who are dumb founded by the notion of packing up the car with no agenda (although this particular trip has the family element), no reservations and no firm return dates.  Some of my acquaintances recoil at the notion of life without room service and spas.  Others express great trepidation being lost in a wilderness of motels with no time-certain check in.

In answer to your query, “But Dale, you must be able to fly to Colorado.” I respond, have you been following the TSA performance stories in the news this week?  I don’t fly, and three-hour security lines are just one of a myriad of reasons.  Here’s another; have you ever been served Mexican cuisine as the (I hear, no longer included) in-flight meal?  And yet another:  On those occasions when I did fly (mostly business trips on someone else’s dime) I insisted on a window seat and I spent the entire flight looking at the earth pass by below, wishing I knew what I was missing down there.  And yes, by the time I arrived at my destination, my neck hurt.  I much prefer to be down there, looking at the country close up.

So this trip required a decision; which route to take.  There are two general options (although many variables present themselves within each), north or south.  On a whim, I decided to take the northern route out this time and the southern route back.  My path will take me north along I-15 to St. George, Utah then east along some interesting secondary highway(s) into Montrose.  Then when I return home, I will proceed south through the San Juan Mountains (Rockies) to Cortez, Colorado where I will redirect westward along trails associated with the Mother Road (Route 66) and home.

I know some of you think as I-15 is merely a dedicated express way to Las Vegas.  And for those travelers, it is all yours south of Fremont street.  But once you get past Vegas, one has the chance to encounter some interesting geographical and cultural treasures.  Just north of the Las Vegas metropolitan complex is a Nevada state park that borders lake Meade; Valley of Fire State Park.  As you may have guessed from the name, it is comprised red rocks.  If you didn’t, well, read a book… about anything.  I did not stop to visit on this excursion, but for those of you who might travel to Sin City in the future, schedule some time for a car trip to this remarkable landscape.  I offer you a google image as enticement.  It may just wet your whistle for a road trip, ‘cause there’s stuff like this all over the West.

Valley of Fire

Valley of Fire

About an hour north of Vegas is the last chance to gamble in a little town named Mesquite.  It is situated in the lower Virgin River Valley and I believe serves the non-LDS Utah residents who just can’t handle the trek into Lost Wages.  As the I-15 continues north it cuts across a small but impressive corner of Arizona known as The Virgin River Gorge.  The highway cuts right through this maze of geological wonder and it will take all your better judgment to keep from parking in the traffic lane to take pictures.  There is no shoulder, don’t try it.  The pictures I include here I got from Google images.

Virgin River Gorge

When the road reaches the top of the gorge you spill out into Utah.  The coral hued mesas are among the most dramatic to be seen in the West.  Ten minutes farther and you encounter the city of St. George, nestled in these same mesas.  When I travel alone (which I am on this occasion) I try to find quaint little motels from yesteryear that evoke memories of family trips of my youth.  Tonight I will be a guest of the Dixie Palm Motel.  They boast seventeen rooms, numbered 201 through 217.  The clerk does not know why and stopped looking for the second floor stairs some time ago.  The motel map in printed on a 3 x 2^1/2 inch piece of paper on which there is an admonishment to drop the room key in the box outside the office when one leaves, so the maids will know you are done.  Yes, the important part of that sentence is that they have keys, real brass keys.  If you don’t understand, you picked the wrong book, try again.

St. George, Utah

St. George, Utah

Dixie Palms Motel

Well, that’s it for today.  I’ll see what comes up tomorrow.