Colorado Day Eight

Last night when I went to join the ladies playing cards I discovered I had missed all kinds of excitement.  Anna Mae, our fearless leader, had her prayer to see a bear up close answered a little more literally than she had bargained for.

Our leftovers from the picnic were stowed in an ice-chest in the luggage bays under the bus.  Most of us had eaten supper in the hotel restaurant while Noah, our driver, had left to fuel up for the next day.  When he returned, Anna Mae opened the bays and started making sandwiches for herself, Noah, and his wife Anne.  She noticed a dark shape sticking from under the bus and thinking it was a dog she tried to shoo it away, waving her foot at it and telling it to “gay vek!”  When it army-crawled out from under the bus she thought maybe it was Dave or Paul playing a joke on her.  It wasn’t until the dark shape stood on all fours she realized it was a bear and instinctively she ran, still holding the mayo in one hand and a bun in the other.

Noah, hearing the ruckus came hurrying over, waving his arms and yelling at the bear, which by now had its two front paws in the bay, intent on getting the food.  Noah’s wild shouting succeeded and when the bear backed away, Noah slammed all the bay doors shut. The bear walked around the bus, standing on its rear legs and sniffing at the driver side window, maybe trying to get a better read on the wildly gesturing driver, determined to chase him away.  With several of the guys strongly encouraging the bear to be gone it finally retreated to a nearby bank of scrubby bushes and trees, where it hovered, hoping for food, no doubt. 

When the hotel staff heard about the excitement, one of them chastised Anna Mae for shooing him with her foot and then running away when she realized it was a bear.  I wish she would have asked him what he did the last time a bear chased him.  He didn’t look like he had nerves of steel.  I have a feeling if I were unexpectedly accosted by a bear my feet would have a mind of their own regardless of what my head would be telling them to do.  We were all very thankful that Anna Mae was unharmed though!

This morning we drove more scenic highways, stopping frequently for photographs, and once at a rest stop we found high up on a lonely stretch.  There was one toilet to be shared by everyone, men and women.  The line formed and I saw a number of the men disappearing into the trees. I didn’t ask but I am pretty sure they were returning to nature to answer the call.  We women lined up, patiently waiting our turn and other travelers stopped and joined the line.  Bodily functions are the great equalizer; we made friends while we waited and Anna Mae told them about her close encounter of the bear kind. They were duly entertained and time passed easily enough as we tried not to shiver in the cold mist that reminded us how far up we had come. 

We arrived in the historic mining town of Silverton around lunchtime.  The Wild West flavor of the place came through in the weather-beaten buildings lining the dirt streets, like The Shady Lady Saloon still standing and open for business.  Well, not as a saloon or bordello but still doing business of some sort.  What looked like the original jail stood abandoned next to a ramshackle two-story with a For Sale sign in the front.

A steam engine train runs regularly, hauling in tourists, chugging straight up the main street where the track abruptly ends in the middle of town.  There are a number of restaurants, antique stores, souvenir shops, and I even passed a pot shop.  Marijuana merchants haven’t been nearly as much in evidence as I thought they might be when I heard it had been legalized in Colorado.  Much of the town shuts down in the winter.  As one storekeeper told me, the tourists don’t want to walk up muddy dirt streets when the weather is miserable and the skiers that come in don’t buy anything.

After eating lunch at various places in Silverton, our group re-boarded the bus and continued on to the Million Dollar Highway.  I asked Anna Mae why it was called that.  She said there are four reasons and I can take my pick.  Some say it cost a million dollars per mile to build.  Some say it has a million dollar view.  Others say the high mineral content in the materials used in the paving is worth a million dollars and still others say they wouldn’t drive it again if someone gave them a million dollars.

It was an unforgettable experience for sure.  No guard rails.  Pavement reaching to the very edge of the cliffs in some places with areas that looked like erosion could eat its way under the roadway.  Semi trucks, campers, cars, even a snowplow were out there on this two lane highway that wound its way around these mountains, numerous switchbacks and sharp S-curves providing an amazing view of certain death should our fearless bus driver not pay attention.  No room for error. None.  I’d rather ride that swing over the Royal Gorge than drive this road.  But it was breathtakingly beautiful! And an exhilarating feeling to realize I was still alive after we reached Ouray.

Around 3:00 pm we pulled into Box Canyon on the edge of Ouray.  A beautiful waterfall cascaded between giant rock formations.  Anna Mae and I climbed the trail to the walkway up top for a beautiful view of the town, completely walled in by mountains.  It is beautiful, yet I can’t help but feel slightly trapped.  It seems flash floods could be a threat, here at the bottom of all these sheer rock walls. Yet it’s obvious these buildings have been here for decades.

We ate supper at Red Mountain Brewing.  Mouthwatering, it was.  Ribs with homemade three-cheese macaroni that left all macaroni previously tasted seem as nothing.  Beer batter fish and chips that were unrivaled in our experience, and we’ve eaten a lot of fish and chips.  A waiter that liked his job and knew how to do it.  And good company while we ate.  After supper some of us walked around town, stopping for coffee and ice-cream at Mouse’s Chocolate and Coffee. How could we resist such a name? Paul bought some of their candy as well.  All home-made and delectable in the extreme.

I spent some time this evening face-timing with the grandkids.  A plaque I saw in one of the local stores here says it all: My Greatest Blessings Call Me Nana.

It was a good day.