Colorado 2024 Day Thirteen

Today is a travel day.  We’ve crossed another time zone and are passing through Indiana as I write this.  On our last day of this trip it’s like it always is on the last day.  We’re all looking forward to being home but sad that our adventure is over once again.  This morning on the bus has been filled with storytelling, jokes, reminiscing and surreptitiously passing thank-you cards and collecting tips for our driver and our tour guide.   

One of the stories (actually quite a few) was from Dave. On one of their trips to Europe they were passing through the Frankfort airport.  Since Irene had an injured leg, Dave was taking all the luggage himself.  He had figured out a way to form a train by connecting the suitcases together and he headed up an escalator like a one-man Union Pacific, one arm loaded and the other dragging a trail of luggage behind him.  Following him was Ruthie, a fellow traveler, also loaded down with luggage.  One of Dave’s bags caught on something and catapulted him backward down the escalator.  When he hit Ruthie a chain-reaction started and both of them went head over heels down the still-moving stairs, their bags and suitcases raining down around them.

Dave says “an angel” in the shape of a man came from somewhere and shut off the escalator.  After the dust settled Dave and Ruthie got themselves untangled and, with the rest of their group gathered around, did an assessment to determine the damage.  Other than a rip in Dave’s pants, all seemed ok.  Since they still had quite a day of travel ahead, the correct suitcase was found and Dave hurriedly opened it and retrieved another pair of pants, which Irene had carefully rolled up when she was packing.  When he whipped out the trousers and unfurled them, his extra underwear went flying.  Ignoring them he gathered up the pants and headed for the nearest bathroom to change.  One of his highly-amused and unsympathetic friends called out, “Hey, whose are these?” pointing to the underwear that had sailed out of the bag and across the busy airport waiting area.  Dave ignored the comment and subsequent laughter, left the underwear, gathered his remaining shreds of dignity and disappeared to change his pants.  According to him, he never did pick up the underwear and they may be in a corner of the Frankfort Airport to this day.

While the rest of us have relaxed and enjoyed ourselves Laverne and Martha have been working hard. Driving through places that were not built with buses in mind revealed Lavern’s skills for sure.  Cave of the Winds was especially hair-raising but he did it well. And each evening as we all retired to our hotel rooms or scattered to restaurants for supper, he and Martha stayed behind to clean the bus, restock the water in the coolers, and prepare for the next day.

I listened to the murmur of voices as everyone visited with their neighbors on the bus or moved seats to talk to someone from up the row. Looking out the window, I could see a slight change in the leaves from when we left two weeks ago.  Greens are giving way to golds, oranges, reds, and yellows. Autumn is my favorite time of year in Ohio.   The only complaint most people have about fall is that it’s too short.

Paul has been talking about Wendy’s frostys for the past week and he promised repeatedly that if the bus stops at a Wendy’s he will buy everyone on board a frosty.  This morning he mentioned it yet again saying that the offer expires tonight.  We all laughed. With a big bus to maneuver one cannot just wheel in anywhere for a quick snack.  Martha was passing around the mic and having everyone tell what their highlight of the trip was.  Most of us were done with our turn when suddenly, just forty-five minutes from home, the bus turned right.  Into a Wendy’s.  Everyone burst out laughing.

Paul went in to order and Pearl videoed the poor guy at the counter when he heard that 26 frostys were needed.  The look on his face was priceless and he had to call up the manager from the back but they assured us they could handle it.  The last few were a bit thin but it didn’t dim our merriment any.  It was a great finish to an altogether great time.

After Wendy’s one more thing happened that tied up another loose end that had been plaguing us.  There is always a scavenger hunt paper passed out on these bus trips.  This time though, no one was able to finish although Barb and Pearl had everything checked off but one:  a black and white cat.  In fact in over 4,350 miles, NO ONE on the bus had seen a black and white cat.  Just a few miles from home Martha yelled, “A black and white cat!” and everyone looked to where she was pointing.  Lo and behold, a black and white cat was running through the field to our left, alongside the bus, taunting us all.  More laughing all around and the feeling that there really was nothing more to be seen to make this trip complete.

I have a lot coming up in the next few weeks and I’m ready to get back and get at it.  We have several major transitions taking place in our personal lives and at work we’re entering our busiest time of year.  Our annual Christmas Open House at the store is only a few short weeks away.  And as anyone who has visited Amish country in Ohio knows, October is crazy.  Some lodging places have bookings a year in advance.  Festivals and homecomings are everywhere.  And the scenery explodes with color, showing off its finery for all the tourists and locals alike.

Yes, I’m ready to be home.

Colorado 2024 Day Twelve

Our last full day on this trip!

A beautiful sunrise greeted us as we drove toward home. Our phones moved forward one hour as we traveled east, leaving Nevada and entering Iowa.  The landscape didn’t change, still flat with farmland full of corn and wheat.  If I were a farmer I am sure I would appreciate the miles and miles of prairies because it would be much less hassle than the farmers back home face with the rolling hills and steep inclines.  But the sameness gets to me.  I like the forests, the lush green grass, the streams, mountains, hills, and complications of Appalachia.

We drove to Kalona Iowa, taking only two quick restroom breaks, before stopping for lunch. At one of those breaks we met someone Paul had visited with at our hotel this morning.  He had just bought a classic Trans Am and was driving it to his home in NY. I heard someone say, “Are you following me?” and I recognized the heavily tattooed, pony-tailed man immediately.  Laughing and a few words were exchanged between him and some of those who had spoken with him this morning.

We stopped for lunch in Kalona whereaA local Amish family served us the best meal we’ve had since we left home.  Meatloaf, ham, mashed potatoes, real ones.  Thick slices of fresh baked bread with strawberry jam. Peas that I think might have come from their garden. Salad with vine-ripened tomatoes. Tapioca pudding.  And home-made pie for dessert.  It was a challenge to control my intake but I was moderately successful.

After lunch we had a tour through the local Amish community with our host acting as our step-on guide.  It looked much like all the other Amish settlements we’ve been through, the only difference being that they have a lot of goat farms rather than cows.  Neat-as-a-pin farms dotted the flat landscape and our guide explained how goat farming works.  Since milkers have four suction cups and goats have two teats they can be milked two at a time on one milker.  He explained a few other things but I was so full of lunch and drowsy that I didn’t hear it all. I admit, somewhat ashamed, that I fell asleep.

For our first rest stop after leaving the Kalona area we spent an hour or so at the “World’s Largest Truck Stop.”  It was unlike any I’d ever seen with a food court and multiple chain options along with a full sit-down restaurant.  Their food court had a Wendy’s which thrilled Paul since he’s been craving a frosty for days.  A sign at the bottom of a large stairway told the truckers there were showers, a theater, a barber, a dentist, a public laundry and a chiropractor.

The Iowa 80 Truck Stop claims to serve 5000 customers each day and that it has never been closed since it opened its doors in the 1960s.  I don’t believe they were exaggerating with these claims.  The place was crazy busy.  Paul got his frosty and bought me one as well.

We got to our hotel around 6:30 and after supper on our own, seven of us actually played cards.  And laughed til we cried.  I won by the way.

Colorado 2024 Day Eleven

We left Loveland, Colorado this morning around 7AM.  As we drove east Tour Guide Martha told us to take our last look at the mountains because they will soon be out of our view.  It seemed a very short time until they were gone and in their place were the prairies. 

Cattle feedlots were plentiful on both sides of the road, some of them with 100,000 cows being fed and fattened in preparation for slaughter.  Large grain silos were nearby and double-decker cattle trucks passed us as we sped down the expressway.

Acres and acres of corn stretched out as far as the eyes could see, not so much as a hill in sight.  The weather was quite warm, a big change from the past week we spent in the mountains.   We packed away our coats and pulled out short-sleeves again.

Our first stop was at The Great Platte River Road Monument.  A catered lunch was waiting for us inside with delicious food, but not a drop too much.  We were each allowed ONE piece of chicken and our hostess had to tell us, when she saw the farm boy size scoops of mashed potatoes being taken, that this is all there is.  Paul said later it might have been a good idea not to let us help ourselves since it’s rationed but rather they should have ladled it onto our plates themselves.  At any rate we all had enough to eat in the end.  One thing that Holmes County cannot be accused of is stinginess when it comes to food service.  But then, looking at most of us, cutting back might not be a bad idea.

A large structure crossed high above Interstate 80 near Kearney, Nebraska.  Housed inside were  displays depicting the explorers and settlers who came to the area via wagon train, horseback and on foot.  We were all given a small hand-held speaker for a self-guided tour throughout where we heard about the dangers and hardships in the wilderness days. From wartime hazards to conflicts with Native Americans to countless other challenges the hardy and adventurous settlers faced, the museum did a great job of showing the progression of development in the west all the way to the present day.

After spending a couple of hours exploring the museum we drove a short distance to the very first Cabella’s.  It was small, with low ceilings and a few deer heads on the walls and bore little resemblance to the large, trophy filled complexes in Wheeling, WV, Spokane, WA and Dundee, MI.

I’m not a shopper so I took my copy of Hillbilly Elegy and found a shady spot outside and read.  It’s a page-turner so I didn’t mind.  A train rumbled by and when I saw it was pulled by three engines I counted the cars.  One hundred and fifty-six! 

We stopped in York, NE for the night.  We walked to Runza, a nearby sandwich place for supper. Back at the hotel a few of us ladies played the first card game of the season!  I’ve never been on one of these trips where we didn’t play any cards, or gather for music in the evenings.  It feels like we are extra busy this time.  Most nights it’s 7 or 8 before we’re back to our rooms after supper and everyone is just too tired.  Or maybe we are all just getting old.

Colorado 2024 Day Ten

 

It looks like the rain is over.  A beautiful day but quite cold since our elevation is still up there.  Our first adventure today was the gondolas at Winter Park. 

We were there at 8:00 when they opened and it was pretty much deserted.  Our tickets allowed riding the gondolas to the top as often as we wanted, which Paul and I did a couple of times.  I was overcome by the scenery and Paul spent his time trying to figure out the mechanics of the gondolas.  Both of us enjoyed ourselves so whatever works.

At the summit we found a beautiful timber frame restaurant with decks and priceless views. Planters and hanging pots filled with brilliant, beautiful flowers were everywhere. We feasted our eyes and exclaimed over and over. It seemed a good time to take our group photo since we were actually all at the same place at the same time.  Well except for Verna and Barb who had gone back down but a quick phone call fixed that.  We arranged ourselves as best we could.  I told everyone to hold their position and I ran inside the restaurant and enlisted the bartender to take our picture.  He was happy to comply and that’s done for this trip.

We all ate lunch up there with the meal vouchers Tour Guide Martha gave us.  $25.00 seems plenty for lunch but high on the mountain it bought me two chicken fingers, some fries, and a coke.  I had 16 cents left over and, feeling magnanimous, I told the cashier to keep it.  The food was delicious and, like I said, the views were just WOW.

Bike trails run from the top down and we watched as groups of cyclists pulled their bikes off the gondolas and took off down the side.  Not for the faint of heart or unskilled, for sure.  We talked to one official-looking guy on a bike and he said he’s part of the emergency services crew.  He rides around and up and down looking for anyone in distress. Paul was chatting with the girl sitting on a stool at the gondola boarding dock and she told him she just sits there, listening to her music, and watching for trouble.  All day.  That sounds awful to me but she said she likes it.

After soaking in all the beautiful vistas we could handle we left for Rocky Mountain National Park.  Most of the afternoon was spent gawking out the bus windows at more mountains, valleys, sheer cliffs, golden aspens, lakes, streams, and, much to our delight, an elk or two.

We stopped at the Alpine Visitors Center and there was yet another trail with lots and lots of steps and a summit to be reached.  And a few restrooms with a very long line waiting out in the cold.  I thought surely the gift shop and restaurant would have more toilets.  No such luck.  Everything was in full swing except the public restrooms which were closed for the season.  So I stood in line with all the other poor tourists who were desperate to go and I waited.  A sign over the toilet, which was a hole in the floor with a seat on top, read, “Do not go on floor” with a picture of a man squatting.  I was in such a hurry to  get in and out I never saw it but  Merv told us about it. These crazy bathroom signs fascinate me.  In another bathroom there was one saying “Dryer is for hands and face only.” What????  As a person in retail I can assure you the sign came about because of what someone did. And we probably are better off not know what that was.

The gift shop and outhouse were over 11,000 feet elevation, the air was cold, and the breeze stiff.  The summit was much higher, with a path and steps for the motivated climbers. My first thought was, “no way,” but then a couple of others did the trek and I couldn’t resist.  It was the hardest thing I’ve done on this trip.  The elevation really doesn’t affect me until I hike uphill or go up steps.  I knew we were only there for one hour so I was trying to hurry but I had to stop occasionally to give my aching lungs and pounding heart a rest.  I decided I would make sure I saved fifteen minutes to get back down and I would keep climbing until out of time or until I passed out.  I made it to the top but with only seventeen minutes left until departure time I did a quick turnaround and down I went.  My lungs were much happier and my pulse slowed considerably but my knees let me know they were displeased.  I made it with five minutes to spare and in spite of the cold I was sweating hot.

Back on the bus we drove roads with hairpin turns, switchbacks, steep elevations, and no guard rails.  Laverne is a smooth driver and keeps our anxiety at low levels, except for those who don’t appreciate heights.  We eventually neared our hotel and stopped for supper.  We scattered in different directions and I ended up alone at a noodle restaurant.  It was the ultimate comfort food!  I ate outside, which I love to do, and enjoyed every bit of the yummy Wisconsin mac and cheese with BBQ chicken.

Back at the hotel Tour Guide Martha went to get our room keys while we waited on the bus, as we do every evening.  When she got back she had a big wad of tissue sticking out of one nostril. It looked amusing but I felt bad for her recurring nosebleeds.  Some of the others have had the same issues with the dry air out here. 

We scattered to our rooms, everyone tired.  We have not congregated to play cards even once so far on this trip.  I don’t know if we’ve been running more or if we’re all getting old and tired. Or maybe this elevation is messing with all of us. We did decide that it has to happen tomorrow night.  We really have to play cards at least once.

Colorado 2024 Day Nine

Our hotel in Ouray is nestled at the base of the mountains with an elevation of 7,687 feet.  Many of the peaks around us are over 14,000.  Paul has been struggling ever since we got to Colorado, much like he did six years ago when we were here.  Fortunately I am not so afflicted and only notice the elevation when I’m going uphill or climbing stairs.

We were at Box Canyon by 8AM this morning and I remembered from last time that the hike, both up and down, was well worth it. Paul is still feeling shady and decided to wait on the bus with some of the others.  At the base, deep in the canyon, the falls were thundering through from high above then through a break in the rock face below, finally rushing through the riverbed strewn with large boulders.

From the parking lot level there were more steps up to the top, almost 100 of them, followed by about a quarter mile of narrow dirt trails, rocky paths requiring some boulder climbing, and steep inclines.  But once at the top the views of Ouray and the canyon walls are spectacular.  I feel like that’s a word I’m overusing  but I can’t think of any words to sufficiently describe what we’re seeing.  Even though I’ve seen this before it still amazes me.

At the top of the canyon a bridge crosses over the river rushing far below.  Beyond the bridge a tunnel is hewn out of the rock.  Although I had to stoop to make it through the I managed it because I could see the light at the end.  Once through the tunnel I found a rickety set of stairs that ran (or hobbled) along the rock face.  I decide to forego that adventure and head back through the tunnel and down the way I had come.  I discovered climbing down over those rocks was more of a challenge than coming up, except my lungs were quite a bit happier.  The burn on the way up felt like running on a zero degree winter day.  Ernie, Martha (tour guide), Barb, Pearl, Merv, and I made it to the top.  I am fully aware this could be the last time I’ll be here and able to do the climb.  As it is my knees are chastising me more than a bit.

The skies are overcast today with blue skies peeking through on one side of the bus and rain falling on the other. The big sky landscapes allow visuals of multiple weather conditions at the same time.  A beautiful rainbow peeked out in several places as we drove along.  Our next stop was Black Canyon and The Painted Wall.  I can’t even describe it.  I recommend you take the time to plan a trip to Colorado and see all of these things.  It’s worth it!

We stopped in Montrose for lunch, each going our own way.  Dave, Irene, Jim, Ruby, Paul and I walked a short distance to a local diner and as is often the case of local dives, the food and service were excellent. I was back on the bus when someone called my name and said there is someone outside who wants to see me.  It was someone I knew since childhood!  Someone else on the bus knew they lived in the area and had met them for lunch and somehow our names came up and a connection was made.  We from the Anabaptist upbringing call it the Mennonite game.  No matter where you are in the world, if you play the game long enough you are bound to figure out someone who knows someone who knows the person you are talking to.

During a longer stretch of driving time this afternoon Dave was prevailed upon to tell The Hunting Trip Story.  He finally gave in and told it.

Many years ago, Dave and three of his friends went on a hunting trip to Colorado.  They rented a tent, bought state of the art camping supplies, stocked up on ammo, and armed with an impressive variety of weaponry, they set off for Rifle, Colorado and into the woods.

They set up camp and with all their supplies stowed in the tent they had a day of hunting but without any game shot so far.  Three of them returned to camp and since it was cold one of them started up the little wood stove they had along. Dave slipped into the slippers he had brought from home and they prepared for a cozy evening enjoying some of the plentiful canned goods and fresh food they had brought along to eat. With the amount of meat they brought with them, everything from steaks to chicken, one wonders if they actually planned to shoot anything.

A  propane light attached to a 20 gallon fuel tank changed everything in the blink of an eye.  The hose connecting the light to its fuel source had no regulator which caused it to pop off when the pressure rose too much. It was flying around the tent like a fire hose gone berserk.  A ball of fire on the end of the hose was causing a high level of concern among the big game hunters.  The decision was quickly made to abandon ship, or tent in this case, and run for their lives.

Fortunately, the truck parked outside had the keys in the ignition and quick-thinking led Dave to leap in and move it to a safe distance.  The large stash of ammo inside the tent started to do what ammo does when lit and canned goods were exploding and things were flying in every direction.  It looked like the grand finale at the annual Fourth of July celebration. The three brave men dove behind trees and whatever else they could find for cover and waited until the fireworks finished.

What was left after the explosions stopped was. . .well. . .nothing.  Their buddy who had not been back to camp yet for the day returned upon hearing all the “shooting” and wondered what in the world had taken place to leave the campsite looking like it had been hit by rockets.

After taking inventory and finding all of themselves uninjured, except for their pride, they called another friend back home to wire them some money, extracting his promise not to tell the wives they had basically blown up all the gear they had so proudly collected for this expedition.  They finished out their week with less “glamping” and more bare necessities.  And Dave did buy himself some shoes.

I’ll save The Bear Story for another time.

We had one more canyon to visit today but our plans changed when Lavern (our driver) and Martha (our tour guide) got word that a major accident along our route had shut down the expressway.  A tractor trailor traveling westbound had somehow flipped into the eastbound lane and everything came to a standstill. This occured close to our next stop so the decision was made to skip that attraction for the day and go to our hotel instead.  The necessary detour involved a three hour delay but the last we heard the road was still closed at the site of the accident. The driver of the truck was the only injury and our thoughts and prayers are with him.

We stopped at a fuel/convenience store along the new route, bought things for supper to eat on the bus and proceeded forthwith toward our night's lodging. With several hours still to go, Paul got out his guitar and we all sang our way merrily along.  We were pleasantly surprised when Martha announced the hotel was only fifteen minutes away.

Colorado 2024 Day Eight

 

This morning was our first rainy day since we left Ohio.  We boarded the Narrow-Gauge Train in Durango and enjoyed the next three hours riding the rails through incredible vistas that defy description.  I couldn’t help myself, snapping picture after picture, knowing as I did so that none of them would capture the beauty outside the train’s windows.  Sheer rock faces above deep green pines and brilliant yellow aspens brought exclamations from our group time and again. Mist covered the peaks and snowmelt waterfalls cascaded downward ending in the river far below, flowing swiftly over the rocky riverbed.

One of our tour guides today told us that the largest living organism on the planet is the Aspen.  He claimed that they are all connected to each other. I researched a bit and he may have overstated.  It is true, though, that all aspens in a stand are interconnected below the surface.  And the sound made by their leaves when rustling in the breeze is known as psithurism, the Greek word for whispering. It is magical, much like they are whispering secrets to each other.

We had lunch in Silverton and walked through town, shopping and enjoying the beautiful scenery.  Over half of us left for Ouray in Jeeps, taking roads only passable on 4WDs and the others traveled with the bus up the Million Dollar Highway, known for its dangerous curves, high elevation, sheer drop-offs and lack of guard rails. Steve, our tour guide, said theories on the highway’s name come from several possibilities.  One is that it refers to the cost of the highway.  Some say it comes from the legend that there is gold dust in the gravel base.  And some say it’s because “even if you paid me a million dollars I wouldn’t drive it again.” So take your pick or make up your own theory.

Our tour over the mountains in Jeeps was filled with information and sights of old mines. The day was cool and rainy so we took the lower route since the plus 14,000 foot (altitude) trail was shrouded in mist that hid the views. While much of our riding was off the main road we could see the Million Dollar Highway in the distance and occasionally we returned to drive on it for a mile or two before turning off again onto side roads that were little more than deeply rutted trails. Once, on the highway, Steve pointed far up the sheer mountainside to a building barely visible from where we were. A sign saying “Antiques” hung on the front although I took Steve’s word for that because it was much too far away to see with the naked eye. Clothes hung on a line and Steve explained.  It seems one of the nearby towns (nearby by Colorado standards that is) being filled with “snooty” millionaires, decreed that no one is allowed to have clothes hanging on a wash line on their property.  I guess it was too common or something.  Anyway, someone built this little store and hung up a clothesline with laundry and all to thumb their nose at the snobby rich folks. And there it stands, permanently, for all to see.

 We saw mine after mine, all abandoned now, with only skeletons of buildings remaining. Most of the mining around here was for silver and Steve told us how much pollution results from the processing of the ore removed.  Most of the processing is now done in Canada since regulations in the states make it prohibitive. 

We saw stream beds with dark rust colored rocks and water that comes from water contacting rocks and minerals containing sulfur and oxygen which creates sulfuric acid and iron. Steve told us that mines were a thousand feet deep back in the early days and so filled with sulfuric acid that if a miner left his shovel stuck in the dirt at the bottom overnight, the metal would be gone in the morning.  He also told us that most miners did not die in this area from cave-ins or explosions but from pneumonia.  No surprise there.

At three dollars a day miners made triple the normal wage for their time. It was brutal work in terrible conditions but tempting for young men who wanted to make a lot of money.  Steve also told us that having a woman in the mine was considered bad luck, therefore there were no women miners.  And then there were the Tommyknockers.

Mines make a lot of sounds.  Creaks, groans, and sighs.  Or so Steve said.  I have no firsthand knowledge nor will I ever.  I was rather relieved to find out that females are not welcome below the surface.  The Tommyknockers, according to myth, inhabit all kinds of mines and the sounds commonly heard in the deep recesses of the earth come from them.  They are thought to warn of imminent cave-ins, or to express their displeasure with human intrusion.  Miners sometimes left apples or other treats to appease these creatures of the deep.

According to Steve, there is still one mine in the Silverton/Ouray area that has a tunnel running for seven miles straight through a mountain.  Imagine, if you will, a dark narrow passage that runs for SEVEN MILES without lights, ventilation, or any other perks of open air space.  Sorry, I’ve watched Lord of the Rings and I will not be tempted to travel that trail. Nothing good happens down there.  Although supposedly there are still crews that do move through those tunnels.

In several places there was still some evidence of the mining towns that were booming a hundred years ago, high up on the cliffs, in what is the most dangerous avalanche area of the USA.  Once abandoned many of the buildings were destroyed by the avalanches, ending up in heaps at the bottom. With over 5,000 avalanches each year, Colorado is the deadliest state in the nation and Ouray is in its epicenter.  Even with snow tunnels created to protect those caught off guard, they are not always successful.  Snow has been known to fill them to the top, trapping those in its path. 

Our Jeep drivers delivered us to the door of our hotel in Ouray.  We were tired and hungry and thankful for indoor plumbing (although a few of us made use of the woods along the trail).  A short walk to one of the several excellent local restaurants fulfilled our eating requirements nicely.  The town is charming and quaint, situated at the foot of the surrounding mountains which rise so high on all sides that I doubt whether sunrise nor sunset can ever be seen here.  I would miss that but these peaks are so majestic I think seeing them every day on waking would make up for it.

Colorado 2024 Day Seven

 

Blue skies and sunshine greeted us as we left the hotel at 9:30, a late start for this trip.  Our agenda is a light one today, it being Sunday and all.

We drove through a local Amish community on our way out of town.  The road gradually narrowed and eventually turned into gravel.  You’ve heard of washboard roads?  There’s no better description to give the one we were on for five miles or so, until it changed back to paved.  Beautiful scenery with farms scattered here and there, along with some beautiful homes, and some not so beautiful, were visible out both sides of the bus.  One house in particular I wished I would have captured with my camera.  It seemed that the home owners could not decide which architectural style they preferred.  Red tile roof screamed Italy.  River rock walls that rose from the foundation to within five feet, more or less, of the roof line, hinted at rustic cabin.  Nondescript siding filled in the gap.  Chimneys that looked like plain cement rose from the four corners of the roof.  A purple barn (or at least one side of it was purple) set out back.  And the whole place looked tired and sad.  I wonder what the story is on that place.  Someone speculated maybe the man and wife couldn’t agree on things.  Whatever the reason, it was rather unsettling to see the chaos.

We stopped for a picnic lunch at the Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado.  Adin spoke briefly for our Sunday meditation, followed by lunch prepared by Martha, our tour guide.  Several of our group that had not climbed the dunes on prior visits headed out to try a hike to the top.  I had done so last time and it was spectacular viewing from up there but I decided to forego such exertions this time.   I walked toward the foothills at the base but cut that short when the sunny day turned into gray skies and possible rain.  The prospect of finishing the day soaking wet on a bus did not hold much appeal to me.

Ernie and Lester had aimed for the summit but the wind was pelting them with sand and they decided after the half-way point to turn back.  They still saw some great views from there.  The size of these dunes reminded me of those we’ve climbed many times in Kitty Hawk, NC.  Orville and Wilbur Wright launched their flying careers from those peaks and today it’s a favorite spot for hang-gliders.

Paul got out his guitar and those of our group who weren’t into hiking stayed at the picnic shelter, singing songs and letting their lunch settle.  Barb suddenly stood up and was looking intently into the bushes.  So of course did everyone else, to see what it was she was seeing.  A mule deer had wandered to within a few feet of us and was motionless, listening to the music, not even moving when everyone pulled out cameras and began snapping away.  We told Paul not to stop playing and it wasn’t until he paused that the deer continued on its way.

We re-boarded just before the rain started to fall and the afternoon was spent driving through more beautiful landscapes, moving up and down mountainous terrain.  At one point I could see the road ahead and below moving in several different directions at several different altitudes.  When we reached Wolf Creek Pass the bus pulled over for photo ops and Paul broke into song with “Wolf Creek Pass, way up on the great divide. . .” and a discussion ensued about whether or not there actually is a feed store in Pagosa Springs.  It was decided that there is not.  So did Earl actually run into it with his load of chickens, destroying it, or was the feed store only a figment of his imagination?  No conclusion was reached but the discussion was entertaining anyway.

Whenever we have a long drive, the storytelling starts.  Today the subject was pantyhose.  It seems that Ernie was on the phone and was overheard talking about pantyhose and what size they were.  Well, Verna overheard him and the look on her face demanded an explanation when he was off the phone.  This led to much laughter from the back of the bus but only those in the surrounding seats could hear what was going on.  So, since we had a long drive ahead of us someone suggested he tell the rest of the bus what was going on with the panty hose.

It seems that years ago someone he knew, a relative I think, had purchased a house and was renovating it.  During the renovation plaster was removed and the innards of the old house was exposed.  One day a pantyhose leg fell from the ceiling, dangling there but clearly not empty.  Thankfully it wasn’t a human limb filling it up.  Upon investigation the builders saw it was filled with money!  Excavating further into the bowels of the house revealed the other leg, also filled with money.  The obvious question: did the finders keepers rule apply?  Well, no, unfortunately not.  When the home was sold it was stipulated that the previous owner had hidden money somewhere in the house but he could not remember where so if it was ever found it had to go to his descendants.

 The next obvious question: how much money was it?  Ernie didn’t know but said it probably depended on the size of the pantyhose.  Hence all the ensuing jokes about pantyhose, their size and the fact that the only good use for them, ever, is to store money in the walls of houses.  All the women on board agreed that there is absolutely no redeeming feature to them and true progress in civilization was the demise of those stifling, useless garments.  Kind of like Paul feels about neckties.  He insists they were invented by women to strangle good men.

We reached our hotel in Durango around dusk.  It was lovely as they have all been so far. Since our room on the fourth floor was just a few doors down from the laundry I thought it a perfect opportunity to wash some clothes.  We have another week to go so seizing the opportunity seemed advisable.  Well, not so much. 

I told Paul to go eat and just bring me something.  I was very hungry but I neglected to inform him of that.  I got my first load of clothes in and running and went back to our room to do some writing.  By the time Paul got back with food, what seemed a long time later, I had the clothes in the dryer and I was ravenously hungry.  He handed me a cup of soup and when I say cup I am not exaggerating.  If it was eight ounces I am surprised. He said he ordered the same for me as he had, a generous bowl of soup for which he paid $9.00. “You paid NINE DOLLARS for this?” I asked, looking into the half empty container.  He nodded and expressed great regret that we hadn’t taken up Martha’s offer of leftovers from the picnic lunch.  The soup was delicious but mighty small.

I headed back to the laundry to get the now-dry clothes, only they weren’t.  So I popped in eight more quarters, pushed the ON button and . . .nothing.  I pushed it again.  Nothing.  Ten more times yielded no action from the dryer.  I unplugged it from the wall (ok, probably pointless but, hey, worth a try.)  Pointless. I checked the clothes. Still wet. (OK so my food-deprived brain was not in top form).  I slammed the door really hard. No reaction from the dryer.  Yes, I then gave the dryer door a good knee kick. Still nothing.

I saw a phone on the wall so I picked it up and without even dialing got the front desk where the very sweet, fourteen-year-old receptionist expressed her sympathy and suggested I haul my wet clothes to the second floor and try that dryer.  “I have no more quarters!” I said and I’m ashamed to say I did not sound like Jesus when I said it.  She promised to reimburse me so I spread out one of Paul’s wet T-shirts, piled everything on top, pulled up the four corners and headed for the second floor.

Yep, you guessed it.  The second floor dryer was in use.  So I left my pile on the counter, went down to get my quarters from the front desk and returned with book in hand to wait until the person returned for their clothes.  My imagination saw me sitting there for hours trying to decide if I dare remove their clothes if they don’t return.  I didn’t have the nerve so when the dryer stopped I waited and prayed for deliverance.

Within minutes a young fellow came in and jammed all his clothes into his bag and left.  I wondered if he was going to fold them later or just use them that way, then I realized I have bigger fish to fry and I didn’t really care if someone else’s child wore wrinkled clothes or not.  With the dryer humming along doing its thing on my clothes, I returned to the lobby to buy a microwave Campbell’s soup for five plus dollars, returned to our room to heat it and was all ready to indulge when I realized I had thrown away the spoon Paul had brought from the restaurant.  So. . . it was back to the laundry, where I had pitched my empty soup cup with spoon and yes, I dug through that trash, found my spoon, returned to our room once again, and washed it thoroughly before using it to eat my now luke-warm soup.

Eventually the clothes did dry and after repacking my neatly folded laundry, I fell into bed and passed out.  Paul’s words of comfort in the morning were to remind me that at least I didn’t have to hike a mile to the river to wash like some people on the planet.  I acknowledged the truth of this but couldn’t resist pointing out that they didn’t have to deal with our first world problems either.  Then I felt ashamed.  For a few minutes anyway.