Colorado Day Three

We left the hotel around 8:15 this morning and Cal read the devotional.  There were lots of reminders hurled his way to “make sure you have your phone!”  I must say I enjoyed that more than I should have, maybe.  And things continued to get better.  Pearl confessed she had accidently used fabric softener on her hair instead of the conditioner she was thinking she was using. (She smells fresh as a spring day, her hair has no wrinkles, and it’s static free).  I tell you, anyone who doesn’t think seniors and those fast approaching that status don’t have joy and laughter in their lives has never met a bunch like this busload. I’m finding new advantages, the older I get.  I realize many, probably most, young people think I’m irrelevant and with this realization comes the freedom to be who I am and do what I want. I laughed until I had tears before I even finished breakfast this morning.  And no, I wasn’t sitting alone, talking to myself, or cackling insanely.

Our first stop was exactly 1,561 miles between both San Francisco and New York City.  A small store/museum sat next to an old country church with spire, pews, and pulpit all in pristine condition.  I could almost see a beribboned Nellie Olson misbehaving while her mother sat self-righteously and oblivious beside her in the congregation.  Traveling with a group of people who love to sing means never passing up an opportunity for some spontaneous harmony.  I think that little church enjoyed the hymns rising to its rafters as much as we enjoyed singing them.

We ate lunch at the Central Station Bar and Grill in Dodge City.  The BBQ was great and the atmosphere even better.  Train dining cars from long ago let us step back in history, providing a glimpse of what travel may have been like in the old west.  That is, after the railway made its way across the continent.  Before those tracks were laid, it was much more harrowing and tedious.  We stopped to take a look at original markings, still faintly visible, of the Santa Fe Trail.  Beginning in Santa Fe, it stretched for 900 miles through five states: Missouri, Colorado, Kansas, Oklahoma, and New Mexico. The hardy souls who ventured forth with their families and meager possessions, knowing full well they would likely never see the loved ones they left behind, these people were made of some stern stuff.  Standing where they stood, one can’t help but imagine what it might have been like.

We stopped at the edge of Dodge City to see a feed lot, off in the distance.  In my mind the words “feed lot” brings forth a mental picture of an acre of land with a few cows feeding from a trough.  Forget that!  We stood maybe half a mile away on a rise looking down on acres of fenced off lots filled with thousands of cattle.  The strong aroma of manure permeated everything, including the bus.  Off in the distance we could see a cluster of large buildings where the processing takes place, after the cows have eaten their way to sufficient plumpness.  Over 2,000 employees work round the clock, six days a week slaughtering, processing and packaging 6,000 head of beef a day, cows that walk in one door and leave in neat, ready-to-sell containers by another.  I was impressed and creeped out all at the same time. They claim to use every part of the cow except the udders.  I’m not sure why that is.  And were it not in poor taste I could think of so many puns to insert here.

We passed many wind turbines along the way, hundreds, maybe thousands.  The huge blades start at around 116 feet long and are fastened atop a 212 foot tower, reaching a total height of over 300 feet.  They didn’t look that big, driving by.  I convinced Anna Mae to climb up in the end of one on display to give some perspective on size. But knowing the cost for each one ranges from 1.3 to 2.2 million made the scope of investment we witnessed mind-boggling. I can’t help but wonder if the electricity produced justifies the expense. But that’s research for another day.

After crossing into Colorado we stopped at a welcome center in LaMar where a statue known as the Madonna of the West stands tall and proud, one child clasped against her breast, another clutching at her skirt, as she honors the many women who courageously followed their husbands to lands unknown.  These amazing pioneers faced everything from hostile Indians (not that one can blame the natives, but that’s a story for a different blog), to volatile weather, to hazardous trails, and even starvation, often losing their children to disease, and giving birth along the way.  Impossible for me to wrap my head around.  I suspect I would have opted to stay safely in the east until the West was won.

We stopped at a museum so filled with the past, even the smell reeked of history.  A real sod house, furnished in the way of the pioneers, was open for touring.  The small home was quite snug and showed the ingenuity of the men and women who reached the plains and found nary a tree with which to build dwellings of any sort.  With its foot-thick walls made of sod, straw, and mud, it looked able to withstand some brutal conditions, withstanding frigid winter blizzards and sweltering summer heat.  There were many pianos in the adjoining museum providing evidence that harsh realities were made more bearable by retaining the finer things in life, even when lugging them across mountains, over rivers, and through endless prairies must have been incredibly challenging.

I was surprised to see the plains continue well into Colorado but they gradually gave way to gentle rises and even a small hill now and then.  I’ve never been to Colorado except one brief stay in Denver and not being a city-dweller by nature, I found today’s journey more to my liking.  We drove many miles through desolation before finally seeing Pike’s Peak, over seventy-five miles ahead, nearly invisible in the haze.

We passed through a tiny town of Wild Horse where an Amish settlement started in 1909.  Land was offered at about 12.00 an acre.  The Amish only stayed five years.  Crop failures, among other misfortunes may have played into their swift departure.  Mile after mile of prairie without any trees in sight give the place a desolate, forlorn atmosphere.  A small block building with US Post Office on the front looks fairly new and is presumable still in use.  The railroad runs like an iron ribbon cutting through the grass that blankets everything in shades of gold and brown.  Small groups of antelope feed in the distance and are the only signs of life we can see.  Occasional washes prove there are times when water is flowing across the arid wilderness.

As we neared Colorado Springs we crested a hill and saw the flashing lights and backed up cars that never indicate anything good.  Our amazing bus driving turned us around with no more difficulty than some of the small cars doing the same in front of us. We later learned someone had made an illegal u-turn on the two-lane highway, ending up directly in the path of an on-coming big rig.  Had we been only a few minutes earlier, it could have been us.  Our prayers for protection are a daily thing and we thank God for protection and mercy.

 

 After supper on our own (we ended up at an Out Back within walking distance of our hotel, as did a few other others), we strolled back to the hotel and played cards until we were too tired to focus.  Well, some of the ladies did.  It seems all the men needed their sleep. Or maybe the lack of oxygen at this altitude is affecting them.  For myself, I can tell I’m short of breath too, even though our uphill climb was so gradual I never even noticed.