Colorado 2024 Day Three

 

Colorado 2025 Day Three

Today we visited the salt mines in Hutchinson, Kansas, the ones we drove past yesterday with our Amish tour guide.  He told us the elevator will take us down over 600 feet below the surface.  In the pitch dark.  I decided I have tempted fate enough already during this trip with my pod ride up the arch and I opted to wait above ground while everyone else in the group, except one, went down under for the tour. 

I would have liked to see the salt mines, but the trip down and the knowledge that I would be so deep underground. . .well, I’m good with just hearing about it from the others.  Should a nuclear attack have happened during their tour, it would have been the two of us up top who would have been goners since, supposedly, the mines are deep enough and secure enough that even a nuke can’t do any damage. 

A developer drilling for oil in 1887 found salt instead.  Official mining began in 1888 and the Carey Salt Mine opened.  It now runs 2 and ½ miles north and south by 1 and ½ miles east and west.  As of 2015 over 980 acres of usable space and over 150 miles of tunnels are the length of two football fields below the surface.  27,000 square miles rock layer lies under central and south-central Kansas with the purest salt vein 650 feet down.  Those who went below today had 300 feet of salt above them and 80 feet below, enough to “never run out” according to Myron yesterday.

Gift shops serve the tourists below and there is ample space to be used for weddings and social functions as well.  The film industry owns a large amount of square footage used to preserve films and movie memorabilia from across the years.  Legal and statistical records are also kept in the environment the mines provide with the humidity level, or lack thereof, ideal to keep things in mint condition for hundreds of years.  And in the event of a nuclear blast or a natural disaster, things so far below the surfaced should remain unaffected. The guide claimed if you’ve ever had a speeding ticket, a record of it is probably here in one of the mine storage areas.  What a relief.  Thousands of years from now I want people to know I got stopped for speeding in 1989.

We ate lunch at a nearby buffet with pizza, home cooking, and salad bar available for whatever our appetite dictated.

Still no hills anywhere, but large fields of wind turbines turning determinedly in the constant wind lined both sides of the road.  The white spinning monstrosities did nothing for the scenery other than break up its monotony.  We were doing some calculating here on the bus and with the cost of construction for each turbine and the monthly amount paid to the farmers for the use of their land it is unlikely they will ever break even. 

Mid afternoon found us in Dodge City, the faint smell of manure permeating everything. Dodge City has advanced from way back in its lawless days when one saloon was available for every twenty citizens. Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, and Bat Masterson were the only forces, back then, able to restore some sort of order to this wild west town, known for its “wickedness” and disdain for law and order.  Today it seems no more threatening than any other town its size. 

Surrounding the town were miles of stockyards from wence the aroma, much stronger now, came wafting on the breeze.  The acres of fenced in pens with cattle waiting to supply protein for the nation, huge slaughter houses nearby, double-decker cattle trucks coming and going; everything moves in sync like a well-oiled machine.  I’m rather glad a medium rare steak, swimming in its juices, does not have the same smell as beef on the hoof.

We passed through Lamar, Colorado, an unremarkable town, with mostly single story buildings, boxy and plain.  Here and there a three-story structure poked up, some with brightly painted graffiti splashing color into an otherwise gray and unattractive collection of shelters. 

The bus pushed on, the road straight as an arrow, stretching out ahead as far as the eye could see.  Occasional dwellings, faded and worn were scattered here and there on the brown, unending fields.  Occasionally some green growth with irrigation equipment in evidence broke up the landscape.  A few scrubby trees provided scant shade for the houses and small fenced-in corrals kept horses contained.

With the wide open spaces we could see a storm coming from miles away.  A brief rain wet us down along with some of the fields but much of what we passed remained dusty and untouched.  The storm moved on and skirting the horizon it did not approach us again. We’ve been gradually gaining altitude, so slowly it has been completely unnoticeable.

We stopped for the night in LaJunta, Colorado.  A nice enough town and a very nice hotel with several places to eat within walking distance.  Paul and I heard there was a Mexican restaurant up the way so off we went.  Happily we discovered Barb and Verna were already there and they graciously invited us to join them which we did.  The food was great, the proprietor friendly and the company interesting and invigorating.  It brought back memories of another meal we shared years ago in Colorado with Verna and Mary, out behind a hole-in-the-wall bar.  Those back water places are often real gems in the food department. We talked about the loved ones who have gone ahead to the great adventures still waiting for us.  Mary has left us and so have both Barb and Verna’s husbands.  It’s been long enough that talking about them brings joy and laughter, but they are and always will be missed. We look forward to seeing them again! 

When we stepped outside the restaurant well-filled and satisfied with an evening spent well we discovered it had rained.  Everything looked refreshed although it brought with it the faint smell of cow manure.