Sigh, Colorado.

After a recent post, a reader asked me to ask "what makes you travel?". (ha! a reader! Like I am a celebrated author). What is it for you? Family, friends, adventure, to see new things, to have an experience, to eat different food?  I think for me it can be all of those things but also that a state like Colorado exists. I am not sure what the nickname for Colorado is and while I could look it up, I like to think it is Colorado: The-wait-ten-minutes-and-it-gets-even-prettier-state. I am not being hyperbolic when I say that the scenery constantly changes and gets more breath-taking around every corner.

When you land in Denver, the airport and its mass of humanity are not beautiful, but when you step outside, there are mountains in the distance!  Beautiful!  As you drive and mountains get closer and you can see the different levels in them and snow on the top that helps you think maybe the earth isn't just a hot pit of hell in a Texas summer, and you can't help but sigh.  It is non-stop beauty from left to right and top to bottom. White-barked Aspens along the road with dancing leaves. Pines and cottonwoods (ah-choo) soaring upwards.  Grasses swaying.  Wildflowers abounding.  Sigh. This is just around the Denver area too.

Seriously. This is just the view from the trail by my cousin's house

On this trip with my cousin Jim and his wife Amy, we took their RV and drove to Ouray.  It was a five hour drive and seriously, every ten minutes, it only got better. Oh, there are mountains ahead.  Oh, we are in the foothills of the mountains. Oh, we are over that mountain and there are more.  Oh, there is an idyllic river bubbling and racing along the roadside.  It was so green and vibrant and alive! Pulling into Ouray is like stepping into one of those postcard-pictures of a small town surrounded by mountains.  Ouray is in a box canyon (this is a name I learned, not a soup bowl like I was calling it) with trees and cliffs and mountains all around.  The town itself is small and nestled among the mountains and it just quaint and you can walk all around town to get to wherever you want to go. I imagine the first people to settle there took one look at the mountains ahead of them, ran out of brave, and said "This will do."  And boy does it! I loved Ouray!  I loved our RV park with the bubbling, busy river behind it.  I loved the short walk into town and the variety of restaurants and shops in town.  You can see two different sets of waterfalls from town. I would say that the only thing I did not love about Ouray was our very rude waitress, Heidi, who informed my cousin and I after three beers that we couldn't just sit there and drink all day. Heidi was very wrong as our stop to three other bars proved and really when I think Heidi, I think Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman and "Big mistake.  Huge."

Ouray Perimeter Trail

We hiked the Ouray Perimeter Trail and we all said it was one of the best trails we have ever hiked.  My Fitbit claimed 9.5 miles, my cousin's 6; I choose to believe mine was correct.  And I know it has to be closer to 9 because Amy likes to go past every sign that says "Keep Out" or "Closed" so there was some serious meandering happening.  Like the drive to Ouray, the trail changed every ten minutes or so.  Switchbacks, up and down and technical, here we are at a waterfall, the edge of this cliff, an open meadow, a bridge, I can see forever, I can see only these trees ahead of me.  It was technical and a challenge and amazing. I stood very close to a waterfall but not behind because it was cold and slippery and pretended to have my Last of the Mohicans moment.  I crossed a suspension bridge that led into a cave before it popped out on the other side of the trail.  I was not excited about that cave but it wasn't bad.  I felt exhilarated and exhausted. I love that feeling.  If you get a chance to hike this trail, hike this trail!

Just one of a million amazing views.

Picture me almost, but not really close, to the waterfall.

I would have to say that the only other thing about Ouray that was not amazing was the hot springs and that was more on me than the actual hot springs.  When I looked on the internet and the pictures of the hot springs showed me what looked like a community pool, my brain refused to believe and thought "Oh, that is the community pool and the hot springs must be behind that building with the sign that says "Lettuce".  Let it be know that those were indeed the hot springs and the sign said "Entrance" and I should always wear my glasses.  I guess I pictured that hot springs would just bubble up in a quiet pool away from people and it would be me in my own pool and other amazingly good-looking people in their own pools.  It was more like me and all the people you pass by in the airport enjoying the warmth of the hot springs as one.  The water still felt amazing and I really appreciated that they had two pools where no kids were allowed.  

After Ouray, we went on to Telluride.  There we hiked the Bridal Falls Trail which was crowded and my knees were sore.  There is just no good way for a flatlander to condition their knees or lungs for real hiking.  My cousin, jerk that he is, commented to two people who had stepped aside for me that "Wasn't it nice to see senior women on the trail?"  Be it known this man is nine years older than me and I cursed him out appropriately just as four of the blondest, most angelic, cherubic children popped out of nowhere and heard all of the bad words I called him.  I hope they prayed for me at dinner that night.  This trail was also gorgeous and the weather at the top of the trail by the falls was like winter! Telluride itself was crowded but we ate an excellent cheesesteak from a food truck and took the gondola up and over the mountains.  That was a great view!  We watched people preparing for some race up the mountain and all I could wonder if why they hated themselves?

not bad at all.

Next we drove a highway that is either called Last Dance Highway, Million Dollar Highway, Million Dollar Baby, something like that. (I don't pay very good attention when I am not driving) Winding, winding, winding until you come out on the top and wonder if you are indeed at the top of the world. It sure felt like it!  There wasn't room to stay for the night so we just pulled over and had a snack of leftover ribeye and feta; roughing it, I believe this is called.  Every person stopped to say hello and ask where we were from and talk about how frigging gorgeous it was up here.  They were not wrong.

Even in pictures it's breathtaking.

After Telluride, we went to Silverton and then Palisades.  I like the little town of Silverton because it was small and not crowded and really got my fear of bears.

IYKYK

In Palisades, we stopped at a winery and enjoyed a different view. It is a high desert but has enough water to be famous for its grapes and peaches.  It felt much dryer and browner and the terrain seemed more full of mesas than mountains but it was still beautiful.  After, um, three glasses of very nice wine, I ate the best peach of my life.  Was it the best peach of my life or was it the best peach after three glasses of wine?  I can't say, but the cherries were good too.  You'll just have to go and try some yourself to be sure.

This trip was amazing because of the the things I was able to see and experience.  It was amazing because it was time spent with family I love even when they are incredibly rude to me on a mountainside or make me go into places that say "Danger".  The weather was perfect and neither too hot nor too cold.  Also, I think I am not exaggerating when I say that every single person in Colorado owns the happiest and healthiest dog I have ever seen.  These silky-haired dogs were everywhere we went and smiling and living their very best dog life.  I imagine that if you move to Colorado, you are stopped at the state line to go in and pick out your own gorgeous dog.  (even shelter dogs are gorgeous in Colorado).  

So, if you are wondering why it is that you travel, go see Colorado. You won't wonder another minute; you will just know.

Go West, Middle-Aged Woman, Go West

 I believe it was Horace Greeley in the mid 1800's who first stated "Go west, young man" while listing the opportunities for an adventurous young man.  Toby Keith then added to that "Haven't you been told?" in the early 1990's before excusing Marshall Dillon's commitment issues, and really, poor Miss Kitty.  But it was in 2023 that Rebecca McMahon heard and followed the words "Go west, middle-aged woman, go west."  And really, who would you rather read more about?  (also please know that it makes me almost physically sick to use middled-aged while describing myself, but numbers don't lie).

While this adventure truly began in Colorado, I feel like I have to start the story with Wyoming and South Dakota and flash back to Colorado in the next piece.  WY and SD was where I solo adventured: drove 912 miles in two days, saw three national monuments, the entirety of Deadwood, SD and didn't cry once! Well, I did curse a roundabout towards the end of my trip in a high-pitched tone but I was hungry and tired and that roundabout was stupid.

First up, Wyoming.  My prior knowledge of Wyoming came from watching Longmire, and really, I was not disappointed.  Wyoming is vast and green and endless.  I learned very quickly that if you think you need to pee, you stop at that gas station because there is nothing, absolutely nothing, for the next 70 miles.  It was me and my cousin's very nice car and two-lane highways and a speed limit of 80.  And people in Wyoming are considerate drivers and move into the slow lane and let you pass!  Oh, and windy!  Everywhere I stopped, the wind was whipping, just whipping around.

Long, lonesome highway.

Cheyenne was my first stop and I stopped solely for The Cowgirls Museum of the West.  Cheyenne was lovely! Every single person that I passed looked me in the eye and said good morning.  They also had downtown, street parking for free. I am still not over that.  The old man at the museum was so excited when I walked in.  He told me all about WY, its equality, and how the museum came to be.  It was nice to be in a museum all about women.  It was small and well cared for and definitely someone's labor of love.  The three old people sitting around asked where I was from, what I was doing.  They loved that I taught a Women's class and when I listed what I was off to do, the woman commented, "Well, aren't you an adventurer!" and in that moment, I remembered that like all of these women on the walls here, yes, I was an adventurer!

When in Cheyenne, stop here!

This served me well the next four hours of  driving to Devil's Tower.  There was a great deal of time that I was the only person on the road and I wavered between singing "Wide Open Spaces" and feeling for sure I would die and no one would know for days.  It's a real treat inside my brain, let me tell you. Case in point: there were a lot of gently rounded hills that came in twos and I laughed and then was a little sad no one was there to call them boob hills with me.  

Devil's Tower, Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse Memorial.  All three come popping out of the hills when you least expect it and sort of just take your breath away.  Devil's Tower had a more remote feel to it, but a hike around quickly showed me that I was nowhere near alone.  These monuments were crowded and I quickly hated the rest of America there with me.  One, I have been to beautiful, pristine places and I guess that I don't like to share.  Two, these people sucked.  They were climbing rocks that said "No Climbing" to get their best Insta photo.  They were scraping parts of rock off to take with them.  They were not yelling at their children acting like lunatics and scraping off pieces of rock.  I am so glad I went to these places, but if I was to do it again, I would go at 6 in the morning and revel in what I was seeing alone.

Crazy Horse. The most poignant.

Dead white men.

Devil's Tower

After Devil's Tower, I made my way to Deadwood, SD.  I had a hotel booked based on beautiful internet photos and I was tired.  Oh, did those photos lie!  When I pulled in to what Google Maps assured me was my location, I saw a motel.  Doors to the outside motel with more than 30 motorcycles parked.  I was wrong; it wasn't the isolated road I was to die on, it was here.  I was even more surprised when I went to check in and saw not only was this a motel, but a casino!  With slots.  Only slots.  My room was on the second floor and didn't open to the outside and that was fine with me.  I laughed and laughed when I opened the doorway to the second floor and found this carpet and the smell of 1983 in the air. You know, cigarettes, Tab, Smurfs on TV, a newly microwaved meal, and despair.

No words.

I walked to the adjoining restaurant and noticed that the biker gang was comprised of people older than me and all speaking German.  I ate at the bar alone with a giant beer and french fries and a fried chicken something and felt much better.  Sometimes you just need fried food and a giant beer to wash the road away.

The next morning I got up early and did Deadwood top to bottom. Like 80 flights of stairs, per my Fitbit, top to bottom.  I loved Deadwood! I loved that it was 55 degrees when I woke up. I loved that the nice man at the visitor booth at the Mt. Moriah Cemetery asked me if I was a student.  Bless him; he must have left his glasses at home.  I hiked that whole cemetery and saw the graves of all the famous dead people of Deadwood.  Hike? Check.  History? Check?  Kind words? Check!  Deadwood was speaking 3 of my 4 love languages and I loved it!  All that was missing was someone handing me chocolate along the trail. I would definitely go to Deadwood again.

top of Deadwood

If you get a chance to just drive anywhere in this country, drive the Black Hills.  They are too gorgeous to even describe.  I know why the Native Americans fought so hard to keep them.  At one turn, I came across a lake that was so beautiful amongst the surrounding hills that I decided then and there that a bear could eat me there and it would be okay.  This drive took me to Mt. Rushmore and then Crazy Horse.  I liked Rushmore more than I thought. It pops out at you from the hills and even if you are tired of the history of dead, white men, it's still kind of amazing. Crazy Horse was poignant with so very much work still ahead of them.  The museum was great and I enjoyed it a learned a lot of things.

Hmm. All that driving and not one woman carved into those hills.  Just saying.

My plan after Crazy Horse was to go to Custer State Park and hike.  I sat down outside and looked up at that memorial and suddenly realized that I was kind of tired.  And I thought about hiking on my own and well, I just ran out of brave.  I couldn't picture fending off a bear or creepy serial killer and knew it was probably just time to head back.  I still had an almost five hour drive along lonesome highways back to Denver vacillating between the exhilaration of being all alone on a highway and the moments of terror about being all alone on a highway.  

If I was to do it again, I would plan out one more night in SD. Hike Custer State Parkway full of energy and bravery and bear spray.  I don't regret not pushing on with that. I had an amazing adventure, saw things I have never seen before, experienced two new states, and met some nice people and some really annoying people along the way.  And as that nice woman told me, I am an adventurer!  And sometimes, adventurers get tired and play it safe so they can have more adventures next summer!