Durango to Ouray

Million Dollar Highway

What's the big deal, it's a paved federal highway, lots of nice tourismo views of the mountains, blah, blah.  Lies, all lies.  It's scary.  My leg was cramping from pushing on the imaginary brake the whole time to prevent a Thelma and Louise style plunge over the side of the mountain.  The worst part is the pass over the Uncompahgre Gorge with 8% grades, no guard rails and lots of primal scream inducing emptiness over the side.  Honestly, there were times I didn't think all four wheels of the Bambi were on the road.  I thought at one point I could smell the burning brakes of either our vehicle or the ones ahead of us.  The road here is not one inch wider than it needs to be and trust me it needs to be wider.  I wish I had taken a picture of this highway but my focus was directly on the center lane and abyss on right hand side.  I had to cover my eyes through some sections until Fred gave me the all clear that Ouray was in sight.  Like I said, no pictures but it looked pretty much like this:



After we found our little RV campground, Fred decided to reward himself with a nerve-settling beer or two.  Can't say I blame him, he's the man!  Not once did he consider pulling over and weeping which I can't say for myself.

Our campground is a sad, soulless place filled with big rigs with names like Predator, Prowler and Wildcat Master Elite.  I worry for the little Bambi's safety but we had no other option since everything was full for the 4th of July.  It's cramped here to say the least.  Alot of the other campers are here for the whole summer which means they brought along all their essentials for a fun summer vacation, ATVs, outdoor speakers, and small hooligan-like offspring.  The problem with this is that they are stuck with their spouse and no one else to talk to about politics or the price of diesel for months on end.  The result is that they really, really want to talk to Fred.  Endlessly.  We have to time our exits from the Bambi so we can make a run for the truck, otherwise he will immediately be hit up with a friendly "Hey, neighbor where ya headed today".

This is how close we are to our neighbors.  The guy in the Winnebago is Fred's new best friend.

Since this is not the kind of place you want to hang out during the day, we have been taking drives, hiking and bird watching so we are only here pretty much to eat and sleep for four nights.

The highlight in Ouray on the 4th is the big parade downtown featuring all the local fire engines, ambulances, decorated jeeps and the high school marching band.  What can I say, it's a small town.  But, the really big deal is the water hose competition between fire departments.

Basically, they get closer and closer till one team cries uncle from the water pressure being forced up their noses and down their throats.  The crowd also gets completely soaked and yeah, that water is cold.

Walked the Uncompahgre River trail the first morning.  Unfortunately, there is no life in this river due to 100 years of mining activity.  The water is milky from mill tailings but the city is trying to restore the area.  Maybe the next time we visit we can see some trout or a maybe a nice blue-green algae.  Gotta start somewhere on the food chain.

Took a drive up to Owl Creek Pass to do some birdwatching, didn't see alot but the flowers were great and the views were to die for.  If you like this picture, I would direct you to Fred's photobucket page where we have posted many, many pics of what I like to call "Fred Standing in Front of Signs".

That's Winters Fell in the distance and if you don't get that reference then you are not watching nearly enough Game of Thrones.  Can't really tell from this photo but that field is full of wildflowers.

Yeah, it's some boring columbine pictures. So sue me, I like 'em.

Oh hello Mr. Red Squirrel.  Although, you and I know both know you are just a rat in a cuter outfit.

The two big tourist attractions in Ouray are Box Canyon and the hot springs.  We did both but if you think I'm gonna upload photos of me in a bathing suit you are wrong.  So here's a nice shot of water falling through some rocks.

See those rare black swifts nesting, look really hard.  Yeah, me neither.  They are so rare, they aren't here.

Ouray is called the Switzerland of America, you can see why.  Which makes me wonder, is there a city in Europe filled with Walmarts and McDonalds called the America of Switzerland?

Better shot of the canyon but it needs some perspective.  I should have tossed down a large Prowler RV so you could see how deep this is.

We took a drive to an old mining camp, around one of the narrow, hairpin curves that drops off into lots and lots of fresh air someone had placed this nice little vase of flowers.  Gee, I wonder why.

Camp Bird mine, complete with toxic mine tailings.  Supposedly, it's being reclaimed but we didn't much progress.

Note sign in foreground and flagrant violator in background.

Fred, get off that thing ore else.

Nice end to a long day at the Grumpy Old Man tavern.  Gotta finish this beer, go grill dinner, scowl at the noisy kids in the campground and pack up for our next stop......Aspen.

Austin to Durango, CO

First things first, and I'm only telling you this because I want you to feel sorry for me.  I woke up sick the day we left.  Sick, like Keith Richards after a 3 day acid trip sick.  I rolled over to look at the clock at 1:47 a.m. and I was hit with a wave of nausea and some crazy, stuck on a carousel, can't get off vertigo.  I figured I would just power through it with a couple of cups of joe and after promptly vomiting those up I opted for a new strategy.  Just lie down and let Fred load the truck and camper till the last possible moment and then take a deep breath and hurry to the truck and recline the seat really far back and keep my eyes closed for the next several hundred miles.  And you know what, it kinda worked.  I got alot better until we arrived at our first stop in Albuquerque. NM and I started realizing all the little things I forgot to bring because I was focused on barfing and not on oh, I don't know, my camera for instance.

DURANGO - JUNCTION CREEK CAMPGROUND

We should have known better.  Both of us.  Usually, I can blame these things on Fred but this time I was just as guilty.  I could have nagged him to slow down like I am wont to do on occasion, or not started humming a little song that sounded like I was singing into fan blades which made me laugh, or not kept saying Whoa, Whoa this is crazy.  But I did none of those things, I just bounced along that terrible, washboard road like it was a cheap carnival ride.

We camped for 3 nights at Junction Creek, it felt heavenly when we finally pulled into our camp spot in that way that only Colorado can feel to a overheated, parched, thoroughly sick of the heat Texan can feel when they are given a cool, evergreen scented reprieve from the death star.

My first thought after unhooking was a beer, flipflops and changing into shorts.  And this is where the previous paragraph begins to make sense.  I couldn't slide open the doors to the compartment over our bed that holds our clothes.  At first we thought it was off its slidey track, then we thought it was just stuck so we sprayed the hell out of it with silicone spray.  All to no avail.  That night as I was staring up into the gap between the compartment and the window I saw the problem.  Four dangling screws.  Apparently, during our Mr. Toads Wild Ride up the mountain road to our camp spot the screws holding this compartment decided to completely shear off.  Great, and on a holiday weekend with only one RV repair place in Durango.

We did ask the RV place what our chances for a repair were while we were in town.  He was sympathetic but said no hope of looking at it for 2 weeks.  Oh God, this could only mean one thing.  Fred would try to repair it himself.  Usually when he reaches this conclusion I run for the hills because he can get just a tad frustrated with these little projects.  This is a man who has been known to consider a butter knife a perfectly acceptable substitute for most tools.

Once he mulled it over though, and we both managed to distract ourselves by watching some extreme chipmunk fighting, brought on by me "accidentally" leaving some sunflower seeds in the arena, um I mean fire pit, we decided to roll the dice and see if it would hold till we could get some old guy with a drill to fix it.

This photo captures Fred's eagerness to hit the Colorado Trail for an early morning hike.  What it does not capture is the photographers eagerness to smother him in his sleep because the man has been coughing for two. whole. weeks. all day and all night.  Did I mention that I brought along Nyquil, Dayquil, Mucinex, cough drops and assorted herbal teas.  He won't take them.  I don't think I would be convicted by a jury of my true peers, that would be other women who are trapped in a very, small enclosed space with a non-stop cougher he refuses to take anything for it.

The Colorado Trail goes 487 miles all the way from Durango to Denver if you are so inclined.  We were not.

Instead of walking to Denver, we walked a mile to the bridge over Junction Creek, then turned around and came back to camper to much on Cheezits and potato chips.

Also, had a nice visit with our friends, Danny and Kathleen, and their family who recently purchased a house near downtown Durango which we hope to be using as a permanent summer vacation spot in the years to come.  Just kidding Kathleen!

Had a nice little walk along the Animas River Trail that runs through town while Fred did some jogging.

We did not ride the Durango-Silverton train because we have done it twice before and even got off in the middle once and backpacked to the Chicago Basin.  We were younger then.  It's an all day kinda thing and we were more interested in visiting with friends and enjoying our quiet, cool little camping spot.