4-9-2016 Durango, CO

Gas up here in the heartland for $1.70/gallon.  Other trivia:  signs along the highways read, “Keep Kansas Clean Next 2 Miles,” “Range Burning Area Do Not Drive Into Dense Smoke,” “Big Game Hunting Here, Elk Deer Bear Antelope” and in Colorado, “Marijuana for Sale.”  The expansive ranges are populated with cattle, horses, deer and antelope.  While cruising along at 75 mph, I spotted a steer that was on the wrong side of the fence and apparently on a singular mission to cross the highway.  I braked to a sudden and complete stop, tossing books, maps, phones, backpack and water bottles onto the cockpit floor.  (“Good brakes,” I’m thinking.)  The animal stood there looking at us, lower jaw chewing side-to-side, “What?!”  “Hey, wherever you want to go, Mr. 1,000 Lb. Steer (except through the radiator)!”  Slowly, I inched around him and we were back on our way.

My imagination paints a picture of a wagon pulled by oxen crossing these desolate ranges irregular with ditches, troughs and mud, criss-crossed by streams and tangles of brambles, bushes and pickers. You are the wife in a dirt-length dress and bonnet, sitting in the wagon (no a/c) with four tots and an infant and pregnant, being eyeballed by coyotes, rattlers and  restless, territorial warriors who think your scalp would make a nice tepee decoration. 

The wagon crests a hill, as we do now, and blue mountains topped with snow appear on the horizon.  She’s thinking what I would have been thinking, “Oh shit, what fresh new Hell is this?  Hey honey, why don’t we just stop here, till up the dirt a little bit, throw some water on a few seeds and see what happens?”  And he’s thinking, “Like, I know, right?”

Well I don’t know how the pioneers did it but the BFT navigated the paved highway nicely through the Wolf Creek National Forest in the rain and slushy snow and just before Pagosa Springs, up over the Continental Divide at Wolf Creek Pass (el. 10,850 ft.). 

It was a long slog but it didn’t seem like it because of the breathtaking beauty;  alpine meadows populated with herds of antelope and mule deer, burros, horses and cattle, towering snowy peaks covered with tall green fluffy conifers and bare skinny aspens, high icy waterfalls tumbling into deep canyons.  I don’t know how the folks manage.  I look at the isolated wilderness homes and my thought is, “Where’s Albertson’s?”  Big chalet-like homes have a marvelous view through windows up to the sharp peaked roofs and I ask myself, “Who cleans it?”

Spring has sprung in Durango. 

Daffodils are popping up and the trees are heavy with blossoms.  People who think that 60F is actually warm are running around in shorts and t-shirts.  It was a nice day to visit the State Fishery but it was closed. 

Rob with fish & chips
on the hoof

Fish apparently take weekends off.  Plaques informed us that in the wild, only 10% of rainbow and cutthroat trout survive to adulthood.  In the fishery, however, 95% make it and 1.4 million are turned loose into the lakes and rivers per year.  All I know is they are beautiful (on the plate next to my rice pilaf).

Rob in the BFT at the State Hatchery

We had lunch at the Diamond Belle Saloon in the Strater Hotel (estab. 1887) on Main Street.  It’s a stately structure, the centerpiece of Durango.  Louis L’Amour always stayed in room 222 and here he wrote several of his novels.  The original saloon was sold off for awhile to other businesses.  Earl Barker wanted to restore it but his Dad said he’d never make a dime.  So one time when Dad went out of town, Earl and a friend got busy.  Dad came home and saw what a great success it was and bragged that it was his idea all along.  Asshole. 

The splendid Strater Hotel

The building is a living piece of art and the rooms, parlor and saloon are filled with beautiful antiques of all kinds. 

At the bar in the
Diamond Belle

The stunning back bar was found in an old barn and restored.  The ragtime piano tinkles and there is a feeling of old west historic romance here.  The antiquity ends, however, with the pretty barmaids who are younger than my travel shampoo bottle.

Ashley and Deanna serve victuals
in the Diamond Belle Saloon

The bartender was born a year after Reagan became President.  My goodness.   You can reach out and touch both ends of time here in Durango, Colorado.