"Going to the mountains is going home"

We have at long last made it to March which is usually the last gasp of winter here in Chicago. Not so today. We're starting the week with a couple of days of freakish, sub-zero cold. At least by the weekend, temperatures are supposed to rise to a more normal range in the '30s and '40s. But March is a tease---we'll get hints of spring here and there, but then we'll probably have more snow, too, just as soon as I've put away my Yak-trax. It won't really be properly warm and spring-like until late April or early May, so it's about this contrary time of year that cabin fever starts creeping up on me. I feel an increasingly desperate need to go somewhere not only sunny but also warm and much less populated and with prettier scenery and... basically, I feel the need to go out west again. The wanderlust gets stronger every day.

Not surprisingly, I felt that way last April on the final day of our trip to Colorado. We all had flights home that afternoon, but as John Muir said, the mountains were calling, and we had to go. Since we needed to stay in the vicinity of Denver, the easiest way to experience mountains was to drive out I-70 a ways. Happily, this is also a spectacularly scenic route; I-70 between Denver and Grand Junction in western Colorado is probably the most beautiful stretch of interstate in the whole country. So we rolled out early and set off west from Aurora.

Both my sister and I had made the drive east from Grand Junction to Denver in 2010, but we'd never had the experience of going the other direction. And my sister's boyfriend had never seen the mountains up close, so we all felt we were in for a treat.

The trip across town into the foothills beyond Golden didn't take much more than 30 minutes, and after a few miles of climbing, we reached our first clear view of snow-capped peaks framed perfectly by the Genesee Trail Road bridge as we crested a rise.

Our goal for the morning was to reach the Continental Divide via Loveland Pass and the Eisenhower Tunnel, a road that would take us right through the snowy peaks in front of us.

We still had some 40 miles to traverse however...

...through the former mining town of Idaho Springs...

...and winding through incredible rock formations.

The temperature was quite pleasant at lower elevations...

...but winter still had a firm grip the higher we climbed.

As we drew closer to the Continental Divide, the views were dominated by Mt. Sniktau to the south...

...and Mt. Bethel to the north.

The snow on the mountains under bright sun was sublime.

Up, up, up we went, nearly to the tree line.

And into the tunnel! As we drove though, we crossed the Continental Divide and reached an elevation of 11,158 feet, the highest point on the Interstate Highway System (and nearly 6,000 feet higher than where we started the day).

When we popped out on the other side, the road was still wet from freshly fallen snow that was melting in the morning sun.

I would have loved to go out as far as Glenwood Canyon, but having flights to catch meant we needed to turn around at the next exit and head back.

We enjoyed views of Buffalo Mountain as we descended into Silverthorne.

Buffalo Mountain (below, left) and Red Peak (below, right) loom over the small town of Silverthorne which interestingly was named for a person rather than the precious metal. Though some mining took place in the area, the town mostly owes its existence to the nearby Dillon reservoir and to skiers.

We stayed only long enough to put a little gas in the car and then headed back east.

The scenery was of course incredible in both directions.

The tunnel on the western side of the pass is pretty much even with the tree line...

...and is slightly below it when you emerge on the other side.

Just outside of Georgetown, we stopped at an overlook to see the Georgetown Loop, a narrow gauge railroad trestle that is part of a line between Georgetown and Silver Plume. They are only two miles apart, but Silver Plume sits some 600 feet higher than Georgetown, hence the long sweeping curves and loops of track to connect the two towns at a reasonable grade.

Looking back up the valley toward Silver Plume

Both the sign and the stickers were interesting.

One of these days, I hope to have the money and the leisure to drive I-70 through Colorado and stop to admire all of the pretty vistas...

...and the various quirky points of interest along the way.

As much as I love the mountains and high passes, I find the rolling green foothills of the Rockies compelling as well.

There's something about the contrast of the landscape against that wide-open sky that makes my heart sing. I don't know how anyone can visit this place and not fall irrevocably in love.

My ties to Colorado and the mountains are tenuous at best---my great-grandparents and their parents and siblings ran sheep in a tiny town nestled in a valley behind the Front Range. Distant cousins of mine still live there in the house my great-great-grandparents built, and more than a few of my ancestors died and were buried in Colorado. So I do have roots there after a fashion. The line in John Denver's song Rocky Mountain High about coming home to a place you've never been before has always a struck a chord with me (no pun intended) for this reason. 

This last year since taking the trip to Colorado has largely been one of upheaval and unhappiness for me, and I find myself more than ever adrift and longing to finally settle somewhere I love for good. Chicago has never been home to me despite nearly twenty years living here, and I'm tired of not having a place to really call my own. I don't know if I can afford to move to Colorado anymore---New Mexico is looking like a smarter option in terms of cost of living---but wherever I end up, there must be mountains. Because John Muir was right. Going to the mountains is going home.

Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit.
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/edward_abbey_383238

Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit.
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/edward_abbey_383238

Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit.
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/edward_abbey_383238

Dinosaurs and bighorn sheep

Our plans for our second day of Colorado adventuring were somewhat dependent on the weather. None of us had ever been to the summit of a 14er, the name given to Colorado's 53 mountain peaks higher than 14,000 feet, so we were considering driving up Pikes Peak, the eastern-most 14er. We could see the mountain from the parking lot of our hotel, but we'd been advised to call the weather information line before attempting the drive to make sure the road was open and clear of snow. This proved wise as the last seven miles to the summit had not been plowed and more snow was forecast for the afternoon. So we admired the peak from afar and decided to head a bit further south to Cañon City instead.

Pikes Peak looming behind our hotel

The weather on the front range had turned cold overnight and the sky was overcast for much of the morning, but the scenery was stunning nonetheless. We found ourselves easily distracted by interesting historic buildings as we left Manitou Springs, and we made a series of wrong turns that would become a theme for the day. Fortunately, the rental car had Maryland plates, so we hoped the locals would blame those annoying east coast tourists (rather than us innocents from Georgia and Illinois).

My sister and I had passed through Cañon City in 2010, but we had driven in from Pueblo to the east, crossing a broad valley that was gradually enclosed by the mountains from both sides. This time, we came from the north and skirted along the front range of the Rockies for most of the ride.

The countryside was rolling and still a bit austere and brown as it was only April...

But we saw glimpses of snow-capped peaks as we drew closer to our destination...

And eventually, the clouds parted to let some sun through.

Cañon City enjoys mild weather for most of the year, and spring flowers and leaves were bursting forth all over town. We were pleasantly surprised by how much warmer it was then when we had headed out in the morning. Cañon City was originally built during the mining boom of the 1860s as so many other Colorado mountain towns were...

...but its lasting fame comes from dinosaurs. Just a few miles north, sauropod bones were discovered in 1877 which led to paleontological excavations all over the state. Othniel Marsh and Edward Cope, notorious for their bitter bone wars, sent teams west to collect specimens from the area. Cañon City has quite a few colorful references to its famous fossil record around town.

Just outside of town is Skyline Drive, a narrow, paved one lane road along a high hogback that was our first goal for the day. Built by inmates of the local prison in 1905, the road runs about 3 miles and affords amazing views from more than 800 feet above the valleys on either side.

Looking north about halfway up the hogback

Looking west

Looking south

Panorama from the same vantage point

In addition to the amazing views, Skyline Drive boasts its own dinosaur attraction as well. Over 100 million years ago, this part of Colorado was an estuary through which several ankylosaurs walked. Millions of years later, the massive sandstone slab containing the tracks was turned on end when the Rocky Mountains were uplifted. Over many more millions of years, the softer material at the top of the ridge eroded away, revealing the underside of the anklyosaur tracks.

All of the bumps on the rock wall are dinosaur tracks

Looking south into the valley way down below

Looking northeast at Garden Park valley and Cañon City

The farther along Skyline Drive you go, the more exposed the roadway becomes. The rocky outcrops fall away, there are no guard rails, and there's definitely no room to pass.

It's a tad harrowing in places! Having done it once, I would very much like to try to again, preferably on a sunny, calm day. The wind on top of the ridge while we were there was quite cold and fierce.

Skyline ends in a a series of switchbacks that merge into a residential street in Cañon City. We cheered when we reached the bottom, having never driven any road quite like that one!

We then continued west into Big Horn Sheep Canyon with the idea of checking out the rebuilt Royal Gorge attractions which had burned in a wildfire three years after our only visit there in 2010.

Heading out of town

We were greeted by still more dinosaurs at the turn off to the Royal Gorge.

My sister and I were not entirely surprised to see that many of the tourist-trap roadside attractions on the way up to the gorge had closed in the intervening years. They had not burned, but I'm sure the closure of the gorge for repairs doomed them. The old, incredibly tacky eyesore of a entrance building to the bridge across the gorge did burn, and I can't say I missed it. The new building blends into the landscape much more attractively. Happily, the bridge itself over the gorge did not burn, and the few planks that were singed (and thus replaced) were incorporated into the front facade of the new visitors center.

Most of the interior is given over to a gift shop and a space to queue up for tickets to go out on the bridge. Tickets were $27 per person, and given how strong and sharp the wind was, we all agreed we'd prefer to come back in the summer someday to walk out on the bridge. We did peruse the gift shop though and attempted to peer out the back windows toward the bridge. Alas, our deviousness was not rewarded (the view was strategically blocked). Afterwards, we headed back up the parking lot to our car for some lunch. Our leftovers from the night before made for a delicious treat, and the view was hard to beat.

The south side of the parking lot is dominated by a narrow gauge steam engine and tender, a remnant of the Denver & Rio Grande Western Railroad. The line was built to serve mining interests between Denver and Salt Lake City, and it had many branches that wound in and out of the canyons of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, New Mexico, and Utah. One such branch runs right alongside the river at the bottom of the Royal Gorge. One of these days, we'll give that a try, too. I knew before we visited again that the old Denver and Rio Grande caboose that once stood with the engine and tender had been lost to the 2013 fire. The track looks a bit sad and empty without it.

On our last visit, you could walk right down to the edge of the gorge to peer over a chainlink fence into its impressive depths. That area is now closed to visitors, but the park did build a new vantage point just off the parking lot. Given how crazy the wind was that day, I'm sure it was a much safer place to stand!

The Royal Gorge bridge is America's highest bridge at nearly 1000 feet
above the Arkansas River. (It was the highest bridge in the world until 2001.)

When we'd had enough of the wind and had taken a reasonable (read: excessive) number of pictures, we piled back into the car to head further west into Big Horn Sheep Canyon. We had no real destination in mind other than a pleasant drive through an incredible landscape. I figured we might go as far as Poncha Pass if we had the time and then turn around and head back.

The road continues to follow the Arkansas River...

...and though we didn't see any big horn sheep in 2010 when we drove through...

...we were all sort of watching the passing landscape, hoping to spot one. We probably did drive past more than a few, but we never saw them because they blend into the rocks so brilliantly.

And then we suddenly spotted a pair grazing right by the side of the road! Needless to say, we screeched into the next turn off along the river and scrambled out of the car, cameras in hand.

There are 9 sheep in this photo---can you spot them all?

Passing cars spooked the sheep, and with unbelievable ease, they leaped up nearly the nearly vertical canyon wall to higher ground.

They seemed pretty unfazed by us tourists, even when we moved up to the side of the road.

Eventually, two of them scampered back down the rocks to resume grazing along the side of the road. We were thrilled to be able to see them up close!

And back up they go!

We must have spent an hour just watching and photographing the sheep.The afternoon was wearing on by that point however, and we had a couple hours of driving still ahead of us, so reluctantly, we said good-bye to the sheep and headed back toward civilization. The drive out of the canyon was of course spectacular.

I will never tire of winding mountain rivers...

...and the wide open skies where the mountains and the prairie converge.

As we drove north, winter weather rolled in, blowing fine snow across the road and bringing an otherworldly fog with it. The mountains to the west and the plains to the east disappeared, and because our rented electric car was so quiet, it felt like we were floating along through the landscape all alone. My sister reminded me that I had wanted to play a couple of songs for her because I thought she would like them, and the eerie silence and picturesque hills surrounding us seemed like the ideal setting. The music I had in mind is by First Aid Kit, a pair of Swedish sisters whose music has a pagan-ish bent, or at least the songs that have struck a chord with me seem to. So I queued up Youtube and played Lion's Roar, Wolf, and Silver Lining. The haunting harmonies were the perfect accompaniment to the strange world we found ourselves in.

As I expected, my sister liked the music immensely. It reminded her of a song she had recently discovered and Sound Hounded. As the song began to play, I realized that it was a cover of Simon and Garfunkel's "America," but frankly, it was even better than the original. I was blown away by the sublime harmonizing of the duo singing, so I asked my sister who the song was by.

She couldn't remember and had to look it up...

It was of course by First Aid Kit, too. We are truly kindred spirits.



"And the moon rose over an open field...."

(Presumably. Behind the clouds somewhere.)