Nebraska, Colorado, and Utah

Rather than posting daily, I’ll probably post every few days. I think everyone gets blog fatigue – I know I do! So here are a few highlights from the first few days:

Cattle cooling themselves near Niobrara - 94 degrees

May 30 – I drove across the top of Nebraska, staying on Highway 12 till I moved south about halfway across the state. I stopped in the little town of Spencer, Nebraska, to fill my soda and use the restroom. It was 95 degrees out, and there were about six damp blonde girls, wet pony tails “hanging their pencil leads” down their backs, purchasing a variety of candy.

Making conversation, I said to one of them, “You’ve been at the pool. It’s a good day for it.”

She answered, in her very serious 8-year-old voice, “Yes. And we’re going back. The concession stand isn’t open yet.”

Ah, of course.

On their way back to the pool

I smiled as I backed out of the lot, watching the slew of them walking back to the pool, sucking on their various selections. THAT is what summer is all about.

I realized, as I pondered the joy that exchange brought me, how we glorify busy. We Americans often demean the French for their long vacations and short work weeks, but I think they have something there. Our lives have become so busy – it’s all about how much money we make or how successful we are. And we’ve all left behind that kid, out for summer, loving life and taking it just as it is, strolling to and from the pool without an agenda for improvement or goal in mind. I guess that’s what my summers have become – and I’m quite grateful for that.

May 31 – I awoke to the sound of rain on my tent after finding a small campground just outside Long Pine, NE, where I’d pitched my tent. There had been a chance for thunderstorms, but they had passed me by, leaving only a light rain that came and went during the night and the morning. I broke camp sporadically, dodging rain and trying to keep dry. Back on the road, I looked for the most interesting path. I passed cattle grazing in fields – one herd was all white, and the juxtaposition of those tiny white calves and big cows against the new, fresh green of late spring fields, was lovely. The smell of hay and grass and earth and rain reminded me of the way a farmer-lover I’d once had smelled when we lay together. It was a lovely drive.

I visited Carhenge, a place I’d wanted to see for a while, and strolled around some farmer’s idea of car-art. What a wonderful thing the human imagination is.

 

I drove on, making my way out of Nebraska, and the drive was filled with trains hauling coal and turtles crossing the road. As I drove into Colorado, the fields were heavily spotted with oil and gas wells. I had no idea so much drilling was going on in that part of the state – it was the main focal point of much of the landscape. Those wells, along with cattle feedlots that ran for miles, created an impression of northeastern Colorado that is a sad one where profit trumps common sense and the dignity of the land. But more on that later.

The biggest hurdle of the night was trying to find a place to sleep. I visited a few campsites north of Denver, but they were full. Calling around, all the others I had numbers for were full too. I decided to head south through Denver and hit an REI store, then resume my hunt. I did score at REI – I finally found the right boots. They’re Asolo brand hiking boots, and were a bit spendy. But I was able to trade in the ones I bought last year, making the difference I had to come up with quite manageable. They look different from a traditional boot, with dark green suede uppers and striped laces, and I told the hikerish/hipsterish check-out guy I had some reservations about the look of them. He replied, “They’re totally like European mountaineering boots.” So, okay, I’m good with that.

Back on the road, I headed south again, resuming my hunt for lodging and found nothing. It was dark by now, and driving unfamiliar mountain roads in the dark is not my favorite thing to do. After wandering through some back highways, I returned to I-70 and stopped at a Super 8. Not the classiest or newest hotel, it was clean and reasonable, and I was tired. (Note to self: never wait to find a campsite after dark near a metropolis.)

Grazing along the interstate when I left my hotel

June 1 – I rose and began meandering toward Moab. I decided to take a scenic byway, leaving the interstate and dipping down through Leadville and Aspen. The drive was surprising in many ways. Again, from the interstate to Leadville, the landscape was often marked with oil and gas wells and mining operations. Mountains were sheered off and terraced, and large, concrete structures dotted the land. I noticed, too, that almost all of the lakes I passed showed evidence of the ongoing drought with exposed lakebed and often brackish water. Juxtaposed with the low lake levels were some of the highest, fastest running rivers I’ve seen on my drives through Colorado. What a strange time for our earth.

Lots of snow at the pass

But the drive was a good choice. Rounding the southern-most dip of the drive, I started up toward Independence Pass. Signs warned that any vehicles more than 35 feet long were prohibited, would get stuck, hold up traffic, and be fined heavily. Clearly, the Colorado powers that be wanted to leave no room for doubt. Because the road was so narrow in places and the turns so sharp with steep drop-offs, no semis or huge travel trailers could make the drive. I climbed and climbed, and the drive became snowier and snowier. Soon, I was navigating alongside 10-foot walls of snow, cut to follow the road, at more than 11,000 feet. I began to feel dizzy, seeing a few little floaters, and feeling sick to my stomach. I realized I’d been drinking only Diet Coke all day, and I was probably getting dehydrated. I pulled over, opened my water jug, and guzzled the whole thing. I also ate some nuts and licorice. I began to feel better almost immediately, noting that I needed to be sure to drink water regularly and Diet Coke occasionally, not the reverse. Good thing when I hike I only have water.

After coming down from the pass, I returned to the interstate, and continued to Moab. I love that point, just after passing through Grand Junction, Colorado, where I see the LaSalle Mountains off to my left. I know then that I’m close. I stopped to take a picture of the Utah sign, and visited with a young couple from Wisconsin on a road trip. They too were headed first to Moab and then California, with a stop in Las Vegas. Nice kids, and we ended up running into each other in Moab the next day.

Colorado River is overflowing its banks

I intended to stay at a campground where I’ve stayed twice before – once with Deb and Jesse when we made the trip to hike the Grand Canyon, and then again last year. It’s a lovely shaded little primitive BLM campground right on the Colorado River. Unfortunately, the campsites were already taken, but I found a place just one campground down. It doesn’t have the same full shade, but it did have evening shade and it’s right on the river also. So I set up camp, ran to town for essentials, and bedded down for the night.

It’s been a good trip so far – I’m happy and content, even when I couldn’t find a place to stay. If I can stay centered, I can’t imagine I’ll have anything to complain about. Finding things to complain about seems so subjective anyway – either I do or I don’t find fault in the world around me, regardless of the circumstances. Being away from those who find it necessary to find fault (99% of the people in our world) makes it easier to leave that all behind and just experience with mindfulness and clarity. So far, I’m remembering to let judgment go – of others, of myself, of situations. So I’m going with that right now.