Montrose, June 9th and 10th, 2016: Epilogue

Well it seems that my choice of route home was validated by all but one element, the town of Escalante.  It is not a one horse town, more like a one jackass town that ran away years ago.  The motels are old but utilitarian, not beginning to approach quaint.  The desk clerk was not at all receptive to my attempts at humorous repartee.  There was one operating restaurant offering a surprisingly high-board bill of fare.  It had drawn, or perhaps coerced a rather large patronage this evening as it was the only game in town.  One of the waitresses approached and asked me where I would like to sit and in my usual self-effacing manner indicated that any table she wished to assign me would be satisfactory.  This seemed to throw a well-forged monkey wrench into her mode of operation.

Once seated and presented with a menu she assured me she would return for my drink order tut suite.  Fifteen minutes later, and ten minutes too many, I retreated from the establishment flashing a look of disdain at my waitress as I made for the door.  She seemed taken by surprise, but there is one thing I will not tolerate, and that is being ignored when I have cash in pocket.  There are more than a few exotic dancers that will affirm my assertion.  Sometimes, sadly, my sense of indignation at maltreatment leaves me with few and much inferior choices.  I dined on Trisciut Crackers and Pepsi in the bump in the road known as Escalante.  And I doubt that the waitress who spurned me will have remembered by shift’s end.  So much for righteous indignation.

 As I was still in the Grand Staircase-Escalante complex, the views remained among the most intriguing one can encounter in the American West.  This is cowboy country, plain and simple.  An aside about Escalante.  You may be wondering why they named this region for a Cadillac.  No, the region is named for the aforementioned river (see yesterday).  The river was not named for a Cadillac either, but for Silvestre Velez de Escalante, a Franciscan priest who, along with Father Atanasio Dominguez and cartographer Bernardo Miera y Pacheco and eight others from Santa Fe (capital of Nuevo Mexico) conducted an expedition to establish and overland route to Monterey, Norte California in 1776 (Who can tell me what other important historical event occurred in 1776?).  They failed to achieve their goal but did, in their attempt, leave an invaluable legacy in maps of the Utah Valley (present day State of Utah). If you don’t understand the connection to Cadillac, perhaps your sense of humor is too high-brow for my humble offerings.

I ate breakfast at a quaint restaurant in Tropic, Utah.  There was no chance I was going to give the Escalante dining establishment another chance.  I can really hold on to a grudge; there are more than a few exotic dancers that will affirm my assertion.  From Tropic it is a short sprint past the entrance to Bryce Canyon National Park (that’s number two, I’ve been there several times so opted not to take the side trip... but from the highway one can see the features that make this a destination) to highway US-89, which is to Western scenic travel what Route (US) 66 is to kitsch nostalgia travel.  If you visit the five Utah National Parks (have you named them all, yet) you will spend a considerable number of miles on US-89.  My route home took me through Zion National Park which is the shortest if hardly the fastest way home.  But the vistas are without parallel, in fact I don’t think there is a straight stretch of road in the park (That’s a geometry joke, son!).  The road in too narrow and the park too crowded for stop and shoot photography so the following picture was stolen from Google Images. Be prepared, Zion is a way-through park, and they charge you $30 per vehicle just to use the highway.

The route from Zion takes us post haste back to I-15 in the vicinity of St. George (day one) and a turn toward home.  It was early in the afternoon when I neared St. George so opted to proceed onto Las Vegas for the night so as to minimize the hours and miles on the last day of my trip.  I am a strict adherent to the admonishment, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” but I am pleased to share there are no criminal charges pending. Like Hillary, I’m hoping to ride it out until after the election!

The hop to home was as boring as ever so I ratcheted up the excitement for my fellow drivers by sticking to the speed limit in the passing lane.  Yeah, that was me!

Montrose, June 8, 2016

What a view!

Well I am sure you are all relieved to read that I have completed the first leg of the homeward journey.  I know what you are thinking, “Thank God I won’t have to read any more of these travel blogs; my eyes are developing callouses!”  Well don’t get to comfortable because I traveled a far piece today and took lots of pictures.

 

But before we get into the substance, let me lay a little groundwork.  For the last few days in Montrose, I was spending a good deal of time looking at the map and wondering if my original plan for the return trip might be rerouted in the name of exploration.  Originally, my plan was to traverse the San Juan mountains to the south via US-550 trough Ouray, Silverton and Durango, better known as suicide alley.  It is a beautifully scenic drive but it is, as I have noted before, a bit of a white knuckler.  Cowardice however, was not the cause for my pause.  This route would have taken me to Cortez (been there) then southward through New Mexico to Gallup and the I-40 westbound to Flagstaff.  I have nothing against this shadow of Route 66, but I have traversed the real estate so many times the Tumbleweeds wave to me as I whiz by.  So I decided on another route.

I left Montrose fully fed at 0730 hrs and headed north to Delta on US-50 until it joined I-70 in Grand Junction, CO.  The direction of travel took me west past the Colorado National Monument (a must see by the way, especially if you like western landscapes) and into Utah.  Continuing this direction to I-15 takes one through the San Rafael Swell (a geologic feature, not a glandular malfunction) and its haunting starkness.  But I have done that a couple of times in the past decade as well. I decided to take the longest, slowest path I could find: UT-24 which runs between the San Rafael Reef and the San Rafael Desert.  If you are skittish about traveling alone on secondary highways that offer no services (for well over one hundred miles), this would not appeal to you.  It is barren, desolate country.  The geological features appear as they might have been sculpted by ancient aliens (eh, Quicksand?) and break into a tribal war dance, but are just a warmup for what’s coming.

Henry Mtn

Ancient Aliens?

At Hanksville, not much of a town, the highway bends a bit more westerly and after forty miles or so enters Capitol Reef National Park (Utah boasts five National Parks.  Can you name the other four?).  What can I say about the park?  I think I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Capitol Reef

Capitol Reef

Capitol Reef

Capitol Reef

The road through Capitol Reef leads to the town of Tobey, where I taught the local deli operator how to make a proper pastrami sandwich (On rye, provolone cheese, 1000 island dressing, coleslaw. She charged me sixty-six cents for a side of coleslaw.)  After my repast, I troubled the owner for directions out of town. I suppose his look of derision was because there was only one intersection and I had missed it coming in.  Never the less, I successfully navigated myself out of town on UT-12 which lifted me out of the desert and into the Dixie National Forest.  This also, as it turns out, is a rather impressive drive.  There is quite a bit of elevation gain with the summit at 9,900 ft.  The highway then gives up its heights rather rapidly and dumps us into the coup de grace, the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. (No, a National Monument is not a National Park so it is not part of the answer to the question above. No, I do not know the difference between a National Monument and a National Park… what do I look like to you, a ranger?)

Dixie Natl Forrest

Dixie Nat'l Forest

I had been through parts of the Monument before it was a monument.  It is an other-worldly environment.  I will let the pictures tell the story.  But the driving experience must be described:  for the first part of trek, the road is atop a sort of plateau looking down into a confusion of canyons created by the relentless flow of the Escalante River. The Escalante River eventually joins the Colorado in Glen Canyon (Lake Powell). Some sections of the roadway are just barely wide enough for two full lanes with no shoulders and severe drops of hundreds of feet for both directions of travel.  Eventually the road winds down the grade and into the canyon.  There are plenty of picture taking opportunities if your trigger finger doesn’t give out.  I ran out of film.  Wait minute, I have a digital camera!

Escalante

Escalante

Escalante

Escalante

Escalante

The travel day ended in the town of Escalante.  So far, I’ve not seen much to impress me here.  I will relay anything of interest if such should occur.

Montrose, May 31, 2016

Montrose, May 31, 2016

Thinking you might be getting bored in my absence, I decided to go a wandering in hopes of discovering something that would amaze you.  You’re welcome.

Since arriving in Colorado, I have been inundated with recommendations for places to go and things to see.  One of the conundrums associated with traveling in this state is the ubiquitous tors.  I have travelled extensively on the highways and byways of the American southwest and while there are myriad roads beckoning the automotive adventurer within each of the states, it seems none have outdone the ambitious Coloradoans in their effort to build a pass over ever mountain range, a route through every river valley (and I haven’t even been tempted to leave the pavement yet).

A case in point is Colorado state route 133 (CO-133) which crosses the ridge in the vicinity of the Maroon Belles-Snowmass Wilderness at McClure Pass (8,755 ft. elev.) and drops down rapidly into the Crystal River Valley and the quaint town of Redstone.

The route starts at Delta, an agricultural center in the shadow of Grand Mesa (you know it when you see it, and yes it is grand, really grand… but I digress).  A trip down the central thoroughfare brings on a wave of nostalgia that we are really too young to experience.  Main Street is old US-50 (a frequent byway in our travels), no freeway bypass here. US-50 turns west out of town and our route (CO-92) steers ENE.  Once you are through the town its basically fruit orchards and alfalfa fields with the aforementioned mountain ranges as background.  The next town of note is Hotchkiss and a switch to CO-133 where you join the Gunnison River.  The landscape offers so many opportunities for photographs it is easy to get hypnotized into pulling off at any wide spot and start snapping away.  And as this is a visual medium, I will let you decide.

The road is not at all challenging until you reach the crest at McClure Pass, then the highway descends a steep wet of switchbacks, but still not too challenging, into the valley where we encounter Redstone, the cliff walls that give it its moniker and the lodge therein.  We arrived at about 1400 hrs and were the only patrons in the grill. The food was excellent, although as the experienced nomad would anticipate, resort priced.  But then, when breathing rarified air, a twelve-dollar cheeseburger is not quite as offensive.

Redstone Coke Ovens

Although CO-133 continues north, it eventually tees into I-70 which is all freeway; not suitable for earning your “I’m not lost, just a little confused.” merit badge.  So we opted to retrace our route over McClure Pass to the junction with 12 RD (no, I don’t understand the road-naming protocol either) and turn our voyage in the direction of Crested Butte.  Unfortunately, about one hundred yards after the turn, we encountered one of those generator-powered, portable, traffic-advisory trailers that informed us Kebler Pass was closed (no, I don’t know if there are cookie-baking elves living there).  That put the kibosh to any further exploration that day so back to Montrose we went.

Montrose, June 2, 2016

Yes, I was remiss in getting May 31 all polished up and posted before we took to the road again on June 2.  This outing targeted a man-made object of curiosity, The Gateway Auto Museum, in Gateway, Colorado.  Gateway isn’t a town per se but an area defined by the confluence of West Creek and the Dolores River (yes, the same Dolores… even more mobile than we previously credited her as she was active all the way up to Mesa County… tramp) in BLM land west of the Uncompahgre National Forest.  It was at this junction that John Hendricks, founder of The Discovery Network, decided to build a retreat resort and automobile museum. No, I do not know what one has to do with the other: Rich people, sheesh!

The museum is very nice and concentrates its collection on American cars from the early 1920s to the 1970s with cultural commentary as one would expect in such a museum.  But, not surprisingly, the star attraction of the trip is the geography.

The route begins with US-50 from Montrose to Whitewater where we transition to CO-141, cross the ever-present Gunnison River and enter Unaweep Canyon.  If you ever attempt this tour, note that the signage for the left turn onto CO-141 is scant and gives little warning that a left turn is at hand.  When you get to the Utah border (about 40 miles), you’ll know you missed it (I nailed it!).  And when they say canyon, they mean C-A-N-Y-O-N!  This is a spectacular drive with red walls rising vertically on both sides of the meadowland through which the road curves back and forth.  There are even a couple of waterfalls cascading down the north wall which you can photograph from wide spots in the road.  The terrain, geology and vegetation are more Utah than Colorado.  At this time of the year the meadow grass on the canyon floor and pinyon pine on the canyon walls are at their verdant best making for a picture post card contrast with the red cliffs.  It would be enough to make the cliffs at Redstone (no, you just read about it in the May 31 trip above… pay attention) blush.  That’s a joke… Redstone… blush. Aw, c’mon!

This drive is one of the best I have taken, and we’re only half-way through the day.  At any rate, John Hendricks decided to build a resort here and house his collection of classic American Iron.  They have everything from Model “T”s to a 1970 Chevy Malibu SS and a Chord to boot.  There is a 1956 Buick Special convertible that is original; no restoration.  The museum and restaurants are open to the public but access to the residence areas is pretty tightly controlled.  Probably to keep me out.

We ate lunch in the Paradox (the name’s a mystery to me… God I’m funny!) Grill.  I know it seems contrary to the nature of an accountant, but I had to try the nine-dollar homemade tortilla chips listed on the appetizer menu.  What could possibly justify nine-dollar chips?  It turns out they are served with freshly made guacamole and red and green hot sauce.  Would I pay that much for chips in San Diego?  No.  But this place is remote and they have to get their produce from Grand Junction, I imagine.  My sandwich was a combination of black forest ham and pulled pork.  Oh, yeah?  Well think again, it was excellent.

After lunch and maybe an hour in the museum we headed out to the southeast on CO-141 alongside, you guessed it the Delores River.  We traced the river through a series of deep canyons and when available, a look down a side canyon made us appreciate that we were in a maze of canyons that would be impossible to navigate without the aid of the Colorado Dept. of Highways and the effort they had expended to build this highway.  The road is so convoluted the trip takes about three hours while the road in was about one and three-quarters of an hour.

The Dolores River eventually combines with a confusion of smaller water tracks at Shamrock Mines and emerges as the San Miguel River.  The highway continues as it gently elevates to bring itself out of the canyons and onto a mesa.  Once through the farming and uranium mining area of Naturita, we transitioned from CO-141 to CO-145 and continued on to Placerville (yes, California has one too).  There we transitioned onto CO-62 which took us through some impressive pasture land and into Ridgeway (remember True Grit?) which put us on US-550 to Montrose.

One more thing:  Just outside of Ridgeway (north) is a park dedicated to local resident and television personality, Dennis Weaver (look it up, Tumbleweed).  We were coerced into stopping to view a twenty-two-foot-tall eagle statue commissioned by his wife.  The theme of the park is very spiritual.  I stated it should have been a statue of a carrot.  He was a vegetarian.  Yeah, my traveling companions didn’t think it was funny either.