Valley (think, Grand Junction) and found the turnoff for the Colorado National Monument. This is a spectacular upthrust that simply goes nearly straight up out of the valley floor for about 2,000 feet. The climb up from the floor was another gas sucker, low gears and switchbacks, with one section where the right lane had simply fallen away leaving only the oncoming lane hugging the wall. It looked like they're in the process of repairing it, but this being a Sunday there are no workers about. Nice. With our 11,000 pounds inching over the fractured pavement, we could pitch over and they wouldn't notice until tomorrow. This
apparently is not a high-traffic monument, as the campground has 80 spaces and only 2 are taken, according to the peg board at the entrance. We cruised around all the loops in numerical order and found one nearly level space and with a view --- # 79, naturally. This monument is a giant mesa that overlooks the entire valley, from Fruita to Grand Junction, which is spread out below us. We feel like birds hovering above everything on a rocky thermal. We mosied around to various overlooks, had dinner, and went out again for the sunset light. Very nice. After dark, the valley was a maze of tiny lights, absolutely silent from
this distance. Jupiter and Venus are super-strong tonight as there is no moon. Back for a little local tv, and crash.MONDAY There's a 20 mile drive around the rim of the monument, with views at every curve. We wanted an early start so we would get good morning light and color on the cliffs, but we settled for a more leisurely breakfast and so-so light. Once underway, we're enjoying the scenery when we encounter the early-bird road crews already hard at work re-surfacing and re-underpinning (yes, please!) the roadway. The trip down the mesa is a real corkscrew ride with a handful of gulp-factor curves. I'm again glad that Albatross is only 23.5' long, but it's still a w-i-d-e sucker. We're overtaken and passed by two women --- who just have ridden their bikes UP well before dawn --- are enjoying gravity as they scream down the hill through the curves. At the bottom, we wandered through town and gassed up at a place that was "only" $3.15 a gallon. After filling, I noticed that it was part ethanol. Hope that's not a problem. Found another place to top off the propane, re-groceried in the town of Delta, then off to Montrose and the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. This was recommended by Paul as he had toured it on his way out of Colorado. We'd never heard of it before, but it would turn out to be one of the highlights of the trip. This is a "look-down" park as opposed to a place like Zion, which is a look-up at the cliffs place. But to look down, you first must climb, and we did. Up to 8,340 feet for the campground. That'll help the gas mileage. I can't wait until we tour Kansas. The campground was again only sparsely populated, so we found a very easy pull-over spot which didn't even require leveling. Yes! Guess this is a pull-through for bigger rigs, but as most
of the others are small and not-so-level, and there's no one here, why not? Dirty looks, that's why not. We had no more than gotten settled in (meaning we took the bikes off the rack for a spin around camp) than several long rigs and trailers drove by, giving us the evil eye for occupying such a primo spot. Tough. Get here earlier. We have electricity, but no water, and with this altitude we have a selection of tv channels. After cruising around the rather homely camp, we took off on foot for the visitor center on a rim trail. Yee gods! This is one steep and dramatic canyon. No sandstone, this is all dark metamorphic rock that was sliced down over the last 2 million years or so by the Gunnison River. VERY impressive sheer walls, tight canyon, with the river about 1800 feet down there. The sky is getting dark and it looks like a good chance of
thunderstorms either tonight or tomorrow. Fine by us! It was freezing rain on our tent in Yosemite that convinced us that RVing was our future. Bring it on. Back to the rig. Hmmm, I might have been a bit hasty with the tv opportunities: Oprah is on three of the five stations. Off, and out with the books. A little early Arthur C. Clarke, "The City and The Stars." I must have read it as a teenager, but I've totally forgotten it. Loni's making catfish and brown rice for dinner. This is a beer night, no wine. All is well. We read until the nodding becomes regular, and off to bed. Hark? That sound?
It's rain falling on the roof. Sounds like it's settling in for the night. It's a little louder on the escape hatch cover over my bed, but all is good. Maybe it'll wash some of the Kodachrome dust off of things. Wishful thinking.TUESDAY We sleep in as it is alternately rainy and misty and foggy. We peer out our one-way windows at some tent-campers across the way and silently gloat. Yes, we're bad. Cereal, eggs-on-bagels, and fresh coffee. We bagged the idea of doing the rim road on our bikes. We had encountered a ranger yesterday at the visitor center and she warned that there were virtually no flat spots on the entire road and that even she found it difficult to bike. No martyrs, we, so we'll tour in the rig. We unplug the electric, put out our "site occupied" sign to deter the trailer folks from hijacking the spot, and motor off. There are about 9 or 10 overlook
stopping points along the rim road, with short trails from the road out to a point for viewing down into the canyon. Each has a different perspective, and all of them are spectacular. We didn't miss a single one, and glad of it. As we look down at the tortuous river twisting way far below, I have fleeting thoughts of hiking along the river with the boyos and looking UP at all this scenery. A more sober perusal through the binocs convinces me that it would be a tough 5-day slog and scramble along the riverbank, cliffsides, boulders, etc., with water running at Class V+ right next to you,
with the need to cross over frequently. Nah, not going to happen. We got to the end of the road, and at 8,340 feet again, we were still in the mist clouds. But we do get a hint of cell service, so we at least check messages, roll over a CD, and get a couple of calls made. Every once in a while the clouds lift and I can see the town of Olathe way down the gorge at the end of the canyon. That must be the source of our signal. Sprint sucks just a little less. Back to our camp spot, free of hijackers, and we read up a bit on our next destination (so we thought) of Mesa Verde. For a while we're entertained by a small yellow finch-type bird (no Auduboner me) which is fiercely, and repeatedly, attacking its image in our dark mirror-like side window. This also drives the cat wild and she tries to catch it by smashing against the glass from the inside. The bird can't see us (or the
cat) so it keeps this up . . . for . . . hours. Even the cat falls over and goes to sleep. Fade to dinner, some non-Oprah tv, and zzzzz.
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