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CLICK ON PICS TO ENLARGE ] Bye to the misty heights and depths of BCOTG
, and off to Mesa Verde, or so we thought. As we came down from the campground, we descend a long way along a road with absolutely glorious views of the great valley below and the snow-DRENCHED San Juan Mountains to the south. It looks like every tourist-promotion photo you've ever seen of Colorado. Some lucky devil has a cabin on the downslope from our road, with this incredible vista every day (when it's clear, of course). Once down, we make our way through Montrose and head south. There are two parallel routes that will get us to our destination of Mesa Verde: a more straight shot down 560, ending in Durango, or a slightly longer route using 62 and 145 to Cortez. MV lies between the two cities. Paul's Colorado guidebook noted that Telluride featured Bridal Veil Falls, the tallest in the state, so we decided to go that route. It turned out to be a good choice. As we climbed (once again) up towards Telluride the scenery became more lush and alpiney. Colorado really is beautiful in a totally different sense from Utah. The access spur road to Telluride (which is a dead-end box canyon) is two lanes, with construction, so the speed limit was 25. As we entered the city limits (which are pretty far out) the limit dropped to 15 (!) and it appeared they mean it. As we idled our way into the town proper, the scent of money came
wafting through the pines. Supposedly, AH-nold and Oprah both have homes here. It takes that kind of money to buy in, these days, according to the realty windows we looked at. That carping aside, this town is a real jewel. There's one main street, that lines up arrow-straight with a view of the waterfall and mountains straight ahead. We kept on motoring through the town and came out on the other side where the road keeps going to the old mineworks at the base of the mountains. We positioned Albatross so we had a great view out the rear windows and had lunch. We were so taken by the
beauty of the place, that we decided to see if we could crash the tiny city campground that was on this end of the main drag. It's over a small bridge and in amongst the aspens. The sign said they were full, but as it was 11:00 we figured we'd see if anyone had left. Sure enough, one guy was packing up and said he'd be out shortly, so we hightailed it back to the office and snagged his space for the night (the only one available, as it turned out) at the princely rate of $8.00(!), thanks to our having passed the local "senior" cutoff of 59. It's good to be old. Our site was level, and
had a small brook bubbling away beside us and again had a great snow-capped peak view out the windows. The Falls called, so we broke out the bikes and took off along a very nifty bike/walking path that bordered the river as it came through the town. At least the real-estate tax dollars are being put to good public use. The trail was a parade of photo-ops, and we took our share. We biked to the end of the road (unless you have 4-wheel drive) where the switchbacks started to climb up to the falls. We chained the bikes and took off on foot. After an hour-and-a-half of switchbacks, we
had gained about 1200 feet. Along the way we posed at the bottom of the falls, threw snowballs from an enduring bank beside the road, and gazed down on the town and everything else from the top of the falls. We continued back into the mountains a ways, following the stream that fed the falls, through a series of small falls and watercourses. Really nice, and we had the place to ourselves. Unbelievably perched on the precipice at the top of the falls is a former resort, now a private retreat. It's off-limits to the public, so we couldn't get right to the edge. We headed back down
and enjoyed a cool soaking from the blowing mist at the base of the 350-foot falls, much like Bridalveil Falls in Yosemite Valley. Telluride sits at 8,745 feet, so we were dog-tired after our trek up and down the mountain. No cooking tonight! We found a barbecue place that came recommended in the guide, and it didn't disappoint. Huge honking portions that would have done a trencherman justice. We each ordered the combo plate and beer. Our eyes bugged when the mountain of food arrived, but we are diligent, industrious, pigs! We ate it all. The chef came out to help clear plates and he remarked that when we ordered he was chuckling as he didn't think we knew what we were ordering. He was impressed that we took no prisoners. I was impressed that we could stand up, much less walk
out of the place. We staggered around town to walk it off, peering in realty windows and gasping at the prices, and eyeing the swells who were dining in rooms with white tablecloths. They . . . urp . . . don't know what they missed. We ended up in front of the local picture show which was just about to screen Julie Christie in "Away From Her." In we went, and stepped back in time, both with the decor but also with the fact that the manager comes down in front and reads coming attractions and smooshes with the audience. The movie was well done, but a downer, with terrific acting by Christie. We walked back to the park along the dead-silent street, which lasted until we got to our site. Two guys at a nearby site were blasting 60's & 70's music from giant speakers set up in the back of their station wagon. I assumed my most obsequious demeanor and reminded them of the post-10:00 quiet rules. Amazingly, they slurred vague apologies and actually turned everything off. Guess they were chemically more mellow than I thought. Very nice zzzzz the rest of the night in the cool mountain air despite the cat, who apparently is reinvigorated by the same.
, and off to Mesa Verde, or so we thought. As we came down from the campground, we descend a long way along a road with absolutely glorious views of the great valley below and the snow-DRENCHED San Juan Mountains to the south. It looks like every tourist-promotion photo you've ever seen of Colorado. Some lucky devil has a cabin on the downslope from our road, with this incredible vista every day (when it's clear, of course). Once down, we make our way through Montrose and head south. There are two parallel routes that will get us to our destination of Mesa Verde: a more straight shot down 560, ending in Durango, or a slightly longer route using 62 and 145 to Cortez. MV lies between the two cities. Paul's Colorado guidebook noted that Telluride featured Bridal Veil Falls, the tallest in the state, so we decided to go that route. It turned out to be a good choice. As we climbed (once again) up towards Telluride the scenery became more lush and alpiney. Colorado really is beautiful in a totally different sense from Utah. The access spur road to Telluride (which is a dead-end box canyon) is two lanes, with construction, so the speed limit was 25. As we entered the city limits (which are pretty far out) the limit dropped to 15 (!) and it appeared they mean it. As we idled our way into the town proper, the scent of money came
wafting through the pines. Supposedly, AH-nold and Oprah both have homes here. It takes that kind of money to buy in, these days, according to the realty windows we looked at. That carping aside, this town is a real jewel. There's one main street, that lines up arrow-straight with a view of the waterfall and mountains straight ahead. We kept on motoring through the town and came out on the other side where the road keeps going to the old mineworks at the base of the mountains. We positioned Albatross so we had a great view out the rear windows and had lunch. We were so taken by the
beauty of the place, that we decided to see if we could crash the tiny city campground that was on this end of the main drag. It's over a small bridge and in amongst the aspens. The sign said they were full, but as it was 11:00 we figured we'd see if anyone had left. Sure enough, one guy was packing up and said he'd be out shortly, so we hightailed it back to the office and snagged his space for the night (the only one available, as it turned out) at the princely rate of $8.00(!), thanks to our having passed the local "senior" cutoff of 59. It's good to be old. Our site was level, and
had a small brook bubbling away beside us and again had a great snow-capped peak view out the windows. The Falls called, so we broke out the bikes and took off along a very nifty bike/walking path that bordered the river as it came through the town. At least the real-estate tax dollars are being put to good public use. The trail was a parade of photo-ops, and we took our share. We biked to the end of the road (unless you have 4-wheel drive) where the switchbacks started to climb up to the falls. We chained the bikes and took off on foot. After an hour-and-a-half of switchbacks, we
had gained about 1200 feet. Along the way we posed at the bottom of the falls, threw snowballs from an enduring bank beside the road, and gazed down on the town and everything else from the top of the falls. We continued back into the mountains a ways, following the stream that fed the falls, through a series of small falls and watercourses. Really nice, and we had the place to ourselves. Unbelievably perched on the precipice at the top of the falls is a former resort, now a private retreat. It's off-limits to the public, so we couldn't get right to the edge. We headed back down
and enjoyed a cool soaking from the blowing mist at the base of the 350-foot falls, much like Bridalveil Falls in Yosemite Valley. Telluride sits at 8,745 feet, so we were dog-tired after our trek up and down the mountain. No cooking tonight! We found a barbecue place that came recommended in the guide, and it didn't disappoint. Huge honking portions that would have done a trencherman justice. We each ordered the combo plate and beer. Our eyes bugged when the mountain of food arrived, but we are diligent, industrious, pigs! We ate it all. The chef came out to help clear plates and he remarked that when we ordered he was chuckling as he didn't think we knew what we were ordering. He was impressed that we took no prisoners. I was impressed that we could stand up, much less walk
out of the place. We staggered around town to walk it off, peering in realty windows and gasping at the prices, and eyeing the swells who were dining in rooms with white tablecloths. They . . . urp . . . don't know what they missed. We ended up in front of the local picture show which was just about to screen Julie Christie in "Away From Her." In we went, and stepped back in time, both with the decor but also with the fact that the manager comes down in front and reads coming attractions and smooshes with the audience. The movie was well done, but a downer, with terrific acting by Christie. We walked back to the park along the dead-silent street, which lasted until we got to our site. Two guys at a nearby site were blasting 60's & 70's music from giant speakers set up in the back of their station wagon. I assumed my most obsequious demeanor and reminded them of the post-10:00 quiet rules. Amazingly, they slurred vague apologies and actually turned everything off. Guess they were chemically more mellow than I thought. Very nice zzzzz the rest of the night in the cool mountain air despite the cat, who apparently is reinvigorated by the same.
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