THE HOMESTEAD/ACCUMULATION YEARS
TRAVELS WITH THE VAN:
*Apologies in advance for grainy old film-photo scans.
After the farm animal phase, we could get away from home for longer periods. One year we took 3 weeks of vacation and left Seattle in the first week of October. The van was loaded with one Wiemaraner, one Rottweiler, DH and me. Our theory was that we were late enough in the year to avoid excessive heat in the lowlands (no) and early enough to avoid deep snow and hunting season in the mountains (no and no). We drove due east through Washington into Idaho and stopped in a canyon along the Salmon River.
We set up camp and then began to feel increasingly uneasy. I have no idea why, but eventually we had to leave. There was just an overwhelmingly dark aura about the place. We drove for another hour and parked for the night at a less beautiful but non-creepy spot. That’s the only time I can recall feeling such discomfort in nature for no apparent reason.
We camped our way through Idaho and Wyoming, then south to Flaming Gorge reservoir. I would post a photo of Flaming Gorge, but Google can show it much better. Gorgeous…and shockingly hot for our expectations of October. We parked by the reservoir and tried to coax our overheated Rottweiler into the water to cool off. He hated water and was having none of the idea. DH finally dragged him in by the collar, growling all the way (Dog, not DH. Okay; maybe DH too.). The dog cooled down, but he spent the rest of the day in a corner of the van with his face to the wall, pointedly ignoring us. That dog could really hold a grudge.
After Flaming Gorge, we skimmed the northeastern tip of Utah and headed into Colorado, our primary destination. We camped in the sagebrush down a long dirt track somewhere near Rangely. This place was full of rabbits, and DH went off with the Weimaraner to chase them while I set up camp and the Rottweiler sulked. Nice natural camo job on the van, courtesy of dust.
Onward and upward…literally. DH had promised lots of mountains as we veered east, and boy was he right. We kept to small roads wherever possible, driving up and down through breathtaking landscapes most of each day, then cooking over fires and sleeping in the van at night. As we neared Leadville, we encountered a cold rain/snow mix that made sitting outside pretty miserable. We set up camp, collected rocks, and DH built a fire ring with a wall that bounced the fire’s warmth back onto us. The short-haired Weimaraner still wasn’t impressed, but we thought we were pretty slick.
The next morning, I told DH I wanted to go into Leadville and eat a hot breakfast. Time for civilization and real food, I whined. He wasn’t thrilled about detouring toward people, but he grudgingly agreed. We drove into town, found a busy café and sat down in the blessed warmth. DH ordered a huge plate of sausage, eggs, hashbrowns and toast. I ordered oatmeal and a dry buttermilk biscuit. DH almost fell off his chair. “We drove all the way into town so you could eat OATMEAL?” “No,” I said. “I’m having a biscuit too.”
He’s never let me forget that.
After Leadville, we looped south and back west to Montrose, which is the beginning of the Million Dollar Highway -- also known as Route 550.
http://www.dangerousroads.org/north-ame ... y-usa.html
I can’t recommend this trip enough for anyone who likes stunning scenery and utterly terrifying, wet-your-pants roads. Our conversation for the rest of the day went something like this:
DH: Look at that (mountain, canyon, river, wildlife)! *points
Me: Look at the road!! *whimpers
Between Ouray and Silverton on Highway 550 lay Red Mountain Pass, at 11,000 feet elevation. Abandoned mine shafts and tailing piles sprouted at spots from the snow, but there was no other sign of past or present civilization. We’d been looking for somewhere to camp for an hour or so without any luck. Just after the top of the pass, we saw an opening in the trees that suggested a track under the snow, so DH put the van in low-lock and took the track. It led up and over a hill, through a tiny stream (I know; not cool) and into a small clearing where we could park. We were relieved to stop because we were both feeling lousy: nauseous, light-headed and tired. We didn’t realize until later that we were suffering mild altitude sickness.
We didn’t even try to set up any sort of camp. It was snowing hard, so we just fed and watered the dogs, lighted the propane heater and huddled in our sleeping bags. The Weimaraner was still cold, so I wrapped her in my coat. She expressed her appreciation by peeing in it.
It was a long night. DH slept restlessly, plagued with bizarre dreams. I lay awake for hours imagining that the tiny stream we’d crossed had swollen with snow melt and trapped us on the mountainside. It was a huge relief when morning arrived. There was some new snow accumulation, but the stream was still a trickle. We drove out to the highway and headed down toward Silverton.
To be continued.
