Ahhhh….. Spring Break. The time that most students take off for

South Padre Island or Miami or the Bahamas…..to rest and relax and frolic on the sun-drenched pristine sandy beaches. A time to leave the burdens of school behind….to free the mind….to drink round the clock…..to go without bathing or changing clothing for a week…..

Yeah….. Fayez and I also went on Spring Break. But, we didn’t head for the beach. We headed for the Four-Corners….the point where Arizona, New Mexico, Utah and Colorado all meet. It is only place in the USA where this phenomenon occurs. No….It probably isn’t as exciting or glamorous as spending a week on a semi-tropical beach. But, on the other hand, it is not as expensive, either. And, it didn’t wreck our health or our wallets. And…. Yes, we did take a bath each morning….we did change our clothes every day…..we did get a reasonable amount of sleep. And…NO, we did not drink around the clock. In fact, now that I think about it, not a drop of alcohol was consumed.

So….. Maybe you are asking: Why choose the Four Corners? It is part of our continuing quest to visit all fifty states. And, what better way to kill a bunch of birds with one stone than to go to a place where four of them meet. A place where a person can actually BE in four states at one time….albeit with one hand and one foot in each state. But…. Still!

I had already been to the Four Corners four or five times, so it was nothing new to me. However, it afforded Fayez an opportunity to add to the number of states he has visited. Truthfully…. He added only two new states…..New Mexico and Arizona. He had already been in Utah and Colorado….and Kansas and Oklahoma and Texas. But, this was new territory, so it was all a new experience for him.

As is normal for me, I started planning the trip about six weeks before we actually started on the trip. Either fortunately….or unfortunately….all the campgrounds were still closed for the winter. And, there were no campgrounds to be found on the desert near the Four Corners. Fayez decided later that this was probably a fortunate thing… Me, too, as far as that is concerned. Booking motels during the middle of March is not much of a challenge. This is not part of the peak tourist season. I booked what I hoped would be comfortable hotels…..not the cheapest, but also, not the most expensive.

The unexpected surprise arose when I attempted to reserve rental car. OK…. Let me ask you a question. When would you expect the peak rental car seasons to be? Thanksgiving? Probably…. Christmas? Well…. Maybe. Summer vacation? For sure…. Graduation? Well…. Believe me, it is. I found that the hard way. But, what about Spring Break? It you said “Yes”, then you are more perceptive than I was. Spring Break never entered my mind as a possibility. But, when I tried to rent a car for our trip about a month before we left….back in February….I was surprised when there was was not a single rental car to be found in either Topeka or Lawrence. In fact, when I checked the Topeka rental agencies, I thought the web sites were not working properly…..maybe they were offline…. Yeah! All of them! So, I started checking the rental agencies in Lawrence. Then it began to dawn on me…. There were simply no cars for rent that week. Ah, ha! Spring Break….. I was sort of in a mild panic. What if there were NO cars at any rental agency?

I certainly was not about to start out in my Suzuki. I am

adventurous….but I am not stupid! (Yes…. Everybody has their own opinion!) Fayez had wanted me to drive to Wichita the day before we left, so he would not have to drive to Valley Falls. So, I checked on the rental car companies in Wichita. Good Luck…. There were cars available. Maybe none of the WSU students go home during Spring Break….or maybe they all live in Wichita…..or maybe they all own cars…..or maybe they never learned to drive. But, I didn’t waste any time. I reserved a car. OK…. The arrangements for the trip were complete. Thanks to me…..

Early Monday morning, March 20, we drove out of the parking lot of Fayez’s apartment and headed west in our 2017 bright blue Hyundai Elantra. The weather was beautiful….sunny and warm….temperatures destined to read the middle 80’s by mid afternoon. Our goal for the day was to drive to Clayton, New Mexico. I knew….but I am not sure Fayez knew….that the elevation for the next eight hours probably would not vary more than one foot. We people who live here know it is a complete myth concocted by “foreigners”…. But the trip from Wichita to Clayton would surely have convinced anybody that Kansas is for sure “as flat as a pancake”.

The first stop of the day was in Greensburg, Kansas. Greensburg, as many of you Kansas residents will recall, was virtually wiped off the map in a devastating tornado the night of May 4, 2007. The tornado, which swept through the town in just a matter of minutes, was possibly the most devastating physical event in recent Kansas history. The tornado destroyed…..literally leveled…..95% of the town and killed eleven people…..all in the matter of just a few short minutes.

My interest in Greensburg lies in the fact that my brother was principal of the grade school and junior high school back in the late 1950’s and the 1960’s……a position he held until he moved to Junction

City in 1969. I remember making at least at couple trips to Greensburg on the train to spend a couple days with him. I also recall taking Mother to Greensburg to visit. So, the town has a place in my memory.

Shortly after the rebuilding process began, one of the satellite television channels began airing a multi-part series on the rebuilding planning and progress. I thought it was a fascinating series, and I never missed a program as the show chronicled the slow rebirth of the town.

The town was rebuilt as a “Green” town….meeting certain standards set by some organization. In order to receive a building permit, builders…..both private and business….had to meet certain “Green” building codes. There seemed to be a great deal of controversy surrounding this decision…..and as I recall, there was some local political turmoil.

After the series finished, I never followed up on subsequent ordinances and building codes. I am not going to make any sort of judgment on the correctness or the wisdom of this decision. I am rather certain that because of these restrictions and additional requirements, building costs were considerably higher than normal. The population of Greensburg in 2000 was 1574 people. Of course, for a time, the population was technically next to Zero. According to the estimated 2015 census, the population was 798…..or just about

half the population when the tornado hit.

Anyway, be that as it is…..I wanted to take some pictures to show to my brother….especially of the school. So, we took a brief tour of the town, paused to take some pictures…..and then moved on. One things for sure…..Greensburg once again looks like a “town”…..with no visible signs of the terrible destruction caused by the storm ten years ago.

 

 

 

 

 

Our ultimate destination for the day, as I said earlier, was Clayton, New Mexico. Why Clayton? That is the question my sister-in-law asked when I told her where we would be staying that first night. “There is nothing in Clayton. It is just a dirty little town out in the desert.”

Yes…. There is not much tourist allure to draw a person to Clayton. But, the town is where a couple of my friends live….a former colleague of mine. And, it is also almost exactly one day’s drive from

where I live in Ozawkie Township.

Probably about a day’s drive from my house…..but a couple hours closer from Wichita. And….I hadn’t taken into account the time change…..a time change to our advantage. Instead of driving into Clayton at around 5:00, as I had originally envisioned, we drifted into into town around 2:30 local time….easily found our motel….and were looking forward to a little rest from the day’s trip. Check-in time was 3:00….and apparently when they say 3:00, that is precisely what they mean. Anyway, our room was not ready. “Come back at 3:00,” the receptionist told us.

So…. We had thirty minutes to kill…or fill. As luck….and the

distrustful GPS….would have it., we did not take the normal route….the route that most sane people would have chosen. I am telling you, people: Take charge of your trip. Do not trust the GPS! More times that not, it will steer you wrong. To put it simply, it did not route us through Texas, as I had expected. Thus, we were left without  pictures in front of the Texas state sign. Fortunately, the Texas border is only 10 miles east of Clayton. With nothing better to do, we climbed back into the car and headed east to Texas. After taking photos of each of us posing in front of the Texas sign, we walked around the sign a couple times….just to honestly say we had been in Texas. I am particular about these things….even though Fayez could have cared less. I did not want to go back home and show pictures of us standing in front of the Texas sign, when we had not actually been in Texas. Both of have been in Texas previously. I have been there many times, but there is nothing like being honest….at least, technically

honest….when bragging…I mean talking…. about the trip.

We met Tom and Sherry Lambert at the Eklund Hotel for dinner. Sherry is a former colleague of mine. She taught the business classes and the computer classes in the same school district where I worked. Among some other titles I possessed, one of them was Technology Coordinator. How I got that job has always mystified me. Me? Beryl Darrah? Technology Coordinator? Maybe it was because I was one of the few people in the school district who owned a computer….or maybe I was the only one. But, believe me….the bar was set at its lowest point…whatever the criteria were.

 

 

 

 

 

Anyway, Sherry bailed me out of so many situations. She should have been receiving my salary. No doubt about it. At any rate, she and Tom and I became friends….and the friendship endured. The last time I saw her and Tom was in 2006. I stopped to see them in Clayton….first on my way to my job in Big Bend National Park….and again on the way back home three months later. Prior to that I stopped at their house when I took my foreign exchange students to the Four Corners.

It was Sherry and Tom who introduced me to a rather remarkable place that I had previously never heard of….Palo Duro Canyon. This spectacular canyon….located south of Amarillo, Texas, is the second largest canyon in the USA…..and obviously does not get the fame or attention that the larger Grand Canyon receives. However, Sebastian and I were on our way to the Four Corners….must have been back in 2000. As usual, we stopped at the Lamberts on our way. They informed us that blizzard warnings had been posted for that area….and driving through the mountains probably was not the best idea. We began searching for other alternatives….and this was long before I had worked in Big Bend National Park. They suggested Palo Duro Canyon. I was dubious at first. I had ever heard of the place. But faced with the other alternatives….like driving back home!…..we set out to explore something new.

Let me say…. The trip was well worth the time. The roads leading down into the canyon are beautiful and dramatic; the scenery is awesome and often breathtaking. But….that is another story.

We met at the Eklund Hotel for supper. The Eklund Hotel is one of Clayton’s historical landmarks….much of it has been preserved in its original architecture. We enjoyed a pleasant and leisurely meal among what I am going to assume were some Clayton’s elite citizens. While Tom took Fayez on a tour of the hotel, Sherry and I sat and caught up on the past few years.

After the meal was finished, we followed them to their home where we spent the evening in pleasant conversation. Although I have been to their house at least three or four times, almost nothing was familiar. None of it seemed to ring a bell. Actually the last time I was there with one of my exchange students….in 2000 with Sebastian….they were both still working and were not at home when we arrived. But they had left the house unlocked for us and had told us to go in and make ourselves at home. Almost immediately after arrived, there was a severe thunderstorm…..and we sat in the dark waiting for them to return.

Over the past years, they have made many modifications and improvements. We lingered longer than we had planned, and as we returned to our motel room, it was almost time to call it a day…..and look forward to the adventures of Tuesday.

For some weeks, I had been telling Fayez about “Indian Bread”…..or, at least, that is what I call it….extolling its virtues, not to mention its good taste. I assured him that this would indeed be one of the highlights of our trip. Authentic bread made by authentic Indians….or, we should correctly refer to them as Native Americans. Fayez was looking forward to it….at lot, I think. We mentioned this to Tom while were were visiting with them, and he told us of a little town where there would be several

roadside stands or kiosks where this would be available.

As we woke up on Tuesday morning and continued our journey toward Taos, New Mexico, this was destined to be a major event of the day. As is his usual habit, Fayez typed Taos into the GPS….and off we went. We made it out of Clayton successfully, but that proved to be only thing that went right. We drove and drove. Fayez kept asking, “How far is it until we find the Indian bread?”

“It shouldn’t be very far,” I kept telling him. But…I kept thinking, “Where are all the mountains and the winding roads?” After an hour or so of not-so-familiar territory, I began to suspect what I should have known all the while: The GPS had taken us the wrong way. In fact, we were actually heading AWAY from the little town. And, of course, we had driven much too far to even consider turning around and retracing our route. The GPS had done it….again. Fayez tends to put more faith in the GPS than I do. I have had too many experiences of bad advice from that little brainless object. Reading and following a map takes more effort, but it is far more accurate. When using a map, we are seizing control of our destiny…..instead surrendering it to device that couldn’t care less.

“Well,” I told Fayez, “All is not lost. We will still be able to get some Indian bread at the Four Corners.” Actually, this is where I had eaten it in previous years, anyway. So, with a degree of hope restored, we continued on to Taos.

Taos is a quaint, picturesque little town….cleverly disguised as a little Native American enclave, with faux Spanish architecture, with a touch of the old Southwest and Native American culture mixed in for good measure. I think that back in the “old days”, Taos was actually an authentic, poor little community with actual roadside stands where Native Americans sold the good they had actually produced with their own hands….pottery, blankets, art objects….as well as authentic food. I can still recall my fifth grade teacher telling us about bargaining with the Native Americans before she bought anything….trying to whittle the price down….and how clever and slick the Indians could be in holding out for the top price they could coax out of the tourists. I wish we had checked….and I will on my next trip…..but I can well imagine that a vast majority of the

“genuine” merchandise was produced in Taiwan or Sri Lanka or China. Maybe I am wrong….and if I am I will certainly report it in the blog of any subsequent trips.

 

 

 

 

 

Taos is a pleasant and interesting diversion from desert driving…with lots of shops to check out, a few art galleries, a tiny museum, bustling cafes and coffee shops….and, most important of all….restrooms. The only purchase we made in Taos was at a chocolate shop. The chocolate…or toffee, in our case….was delicious, without a doubt. But, who knows where it was really made! And…..really. Who cares?

We spent Tuesday night in Farmington, New Mexico, in the northwest corner of the state. This city seems to be one of the gateway cities to the Four Corners area. I found this out the hard way….and these are usually lasting lessons. The first time I made the trip to the Four Corners….with Frank Schreiber, I think….I did not bother to make any advance plans. Don’t ask me why? I knew better. We went in May of 2003. I was probably thinking, “Most schools aren’t even out for the summer. How busy can it be down in the desert?” And, that no doubt was true. The flaw in my reasoning was not in the number of people seeking motel rooms. The error was not even checking to see if a motel even existed!” My plan was to stay in Shiprock, New Mexico, our second night. I mean….on the map, Shiprock is written in bold print. Any town with bold print should have a motel…..Right? Wrong! We ended up driving back to Farmington. The distance between Shiprock and Farmington is not an insurmountable distance….but it certainly was not convenient, either. Especially

since we were driving after dark.

Bright and early on Wednesday morning, we were in the car and headed toward our grand destination: The Four Corners. The single attraction along the way was….Yep…Shiprock! Shiprock is a large….and very large…more than 7000 feet tall….bolder jutting up into the sky literally in the middle of nowhere. It is difficult to miss. In fact, unless a person is legally blind, there is no way to miss it. It dominates the landscape for miles around….just sitting there looking a little bit like a ship sailing across the desert….if you use your imagination.

We arrived at the Four Corners Monument with a minimum of trouble. Our trouble began after we had arrived. The Four Corners Monument is located literally out in the middle of nowhere…..just sitting there in the desert. It is only place in the USA where four states all join together and touch each other. Believe me…..that is only thing that makes it unique. No motels, no restaurants, no cute little boutiques, no amusement parks…..really, no parks at all. There are no trees, no flowers, no lush lawns….and probably no running water. No…. It is just a spot in the middle of the desert where four states….Arizona New Mexico, Utah and Colorado….happen to touch each other.

Normally, it is a place where people come….take a couple pictures….maybe look at the merchandise that several Native American vendors are selling….and then leave. It is not a place for picnicking, for fine dining…..or for anything really. Except for the day we were there. There were perhaps a dozen young people…..teenagers…. That’s OK…. Maybe these were smart teenagers who decided that it would be interesting to take a look at this unusual phenomenon of four states joining together…..probably studying it in their geography class….. maybe honor students? Right? Wrong!! Very wrong.

I strongly suspect these kids were escapees from some juvenile detention facility….or more than likely from a juvenile psychiatric ward. No….. Now that I think about it, they had probably escaped from a drug treatment center….and were hiding out in the desert……and in the process, making life miserable for the other visitors.

It was fairly obvious that these idiots were either drunk or high. My vote is with High. Their behavior was out of control….and they were apparently completely oblivious to the fact they were making fools of themselves. They were completely un-selfconcious. They were lying down on the monuments, doing handstands, holding each other, giving each other piggy-back rides over the monument (I suppose into and out of each state.), sitting down on the monument…..

Not only were they oblivious to the fact they were acting like morons…..they also seemed oblivious to the fact the were preventing other tourists from taking their share of pictures. There was a sign posted….probably more than one….that clearly stated there was a limit of 3 pictures by each person. Really, the only way to get them to move aside for even a minute was to simply walk out in the middle of them….and disperse them, temporarily. Fayez and I managed to grab our few pictures by almost running onto the monument as soon as one of the other “legitimate” tourists had finished.

The visit was not a leisurely fun time, like it should have been. I think it safe to say that all the tourists were tense and unhappy…..having to take their few hurried photos before being displaced by the unruly group of delinquents again. While Fayez and I were there, nobody…..including us….had the nerve…..or perhaps the courage….to tell them to Buzz Off. But, I strongly suspect that sometime….and hopefully not very long after we left….a couple of strong red-neck Trump supporters came along and did the job for us. At least, I hope so….. That is one service to the country that I can truly commend and support. The Four Corners Monument seems to be privately operated by Native Americans in the area. Had this been a national park or a national monument, there would have been park rangers or park police who would have dealt quickly and decisively with the situation. But there wasn’t…..so Come on Trump Supporters….. Do Your Thing.

Behavior such as this is unacceptable and inexcusable. Monuments such as this one were constructed as a public service…..for the public to appreciate and enjoy. Our citizens….as well as travelers from around the world….go there with the expectation that they are going to not only perhaps learn something from their visit….but also enjoy and remember the experience. It is with their support monuments like this continue to exist.

Being deprived of an interesting, leisurely and memorable visit to the Monument….well, I guess it was memorable in its own bizarre way….we turned our attention to finding some Indian bread to eat. I asked a woman who was operating a jewelry stand where we could buy some of the bread. She glanced around and said normally there were vendors who had sold it….but apparently they had not arrived

to set up their little kiosks. I turned my attention to finding Fayez. He was engaged talking to another vendor….asking him the same question. His reaction and response was similar. He looked around, rather puzzled, and said, “They are usually here by now. I don’t know what happened to them.” And, he was unwilling….or unable….to give us any estimate of when they might be expected. Instead he asked us which direction were were headed, and then briefly disappeared into his little booth and emerged with a map. He proceeded to to give us direction to a place where we could find the bread….in a little town up the highway.

 

 

 

 

 

All of the Native Americans with whom we came into contact were very helpful and polite to us….always with a smile on their face….and always willing to offer assistance when they could. Even though we were not able to sample any of this coveted Indian bread, we left feeling very impressed with the helpfulness and thoughtfulness of the Native American who worked there….and the manner in which they made us feel welcome. Maybe this….in a small part, at least….compensated for the idiocy displayed by the juvenile delinquent teenagers.

We on toward Mesa Verde National Park….the Cliff Dwellings. As we drove through the little town where we supposed to find the Indian bread, we…or at least, I….made a cursory inspection of the little town to recognize the landmarks the Native American guy had described to us. And, I suppose it did not come as much of a surprise that I did not see any of them….. I think that by this time Fayez had already forgotten how terribly important the Indian bread once was.

There should be lot to say about Mesa Verde National Park. It is a hugely interesting place to visit. And, I suppose that somebody with a greater interest and a greater knowledge of Native American culture would and could go into lengthy and probably even interesting discussion of all the sites that can be seen there. But,

unfortunately, I am not one of those people..

My interest in this sort of stuff is minimal…..whether it is Indian ruins….or any sort of ruins. Many people are amazed by this fact, since my undergraduate major was in history. My interest, however, lies more in the history of the development of our government and our political systems. I will leave the “ruins” to somebody who has a greater interest in it.

Nevertheless, a few hours spent in Mesa Verde National Park is an experience that will fascinate almost everybody…..no matter their interests. I had visited the Park long ago….back in the 1980’s, and I remember it as being much more hands-on and interactive. Then again….I am starting to get rather old and senile (!) (in some people’s opinion, at least), and maybe I have forgotten how it was….or that I am remembering it the way I want to remember it….and the way I wish it was.

To get on with the story, however….. Mesa Verde National Park is the long-abandoned remains of an ancient Indian civilization. Dwellings….entire villages….have been built into the sides of cliffs….and fairly sheer cliffs, at that. These seem to be fairly self-contained units. The villages were reachable only by ladders which the people who lived there had constructed. As they stand today, they would be almost impossible to access had not been that more modern….and more durable….ladders had been constructed. Until I read the educational material explaining the villages, I marveled how the workers were able to come and go. Of course, there was always the possibility these were the people who invented rappelling….but that likelihood of that was rather slim. I was going to say it was rather

“remote”….but actually, these villages are “remote”.

The people who lived here lived primarily, if not solely, by agriculture and hunting. All the WalMart stores were apparently too far away. This being the case, it is obvious they had to leave the villages and return on a frequent basis. It was interesting to observe that these ancient people had a rather highly sophisticated system of storing and preserving their food…..by digging holes into the ground. They also devised rather ingenious systems of ventilation, especially clever in the underground houses.

Fayez remarked that he would have liked to have lived back in those days. My reaction was: “WHY?” Yeah….a person can stand there and look at all that stuff and imagine: It’s fascinating; it’s intriguing; maybe even glamorous in an imaginary, dream world sort of way. But live there….and then? Not on your life! Those people, no matter how intelligent and inventive they were, had a hard life. There was nothing glamorous or even attractive or alluring about it.

Yes, of course, you argue: If you didn’t know anything else, you would probably be living in an “advanced” society. But, it would have been a one-dimensional life: Get up in the morning and go to work! Hard work. Planting, harvesting, hunting, building, gathering….. Not to mention probably having to defend their territory from other tribes.

 

 

 

 

 

When they got home at night….assuming they got home….what was there to look forward to? Nothing! Eat and go to sleep. No… they didn’t kick back in their favorite recliner, pop open a beer and turn on the TV and watch their favorite team play. They did not take their sons to their Little League games or take their little girls to ballet lessons. They did not go to a neighborhood bar to hang out and discuss what an idiot Trump is. There were no books or newspapers to read….

No running water, no electricity, no means of communication…. No….None of these things we take for granted existed. Of course, I didn’t live back them, but I can imagine that life was pretty boring….and maybe even somewhat hopeless….. I can imagine their diet did not have a lot of variety….just whatever they could catch…or whatever they could manage to grow in the arid soil. No…..I can imagine they came home home exhausted after a long day’s work, almost totally exhausted…. Came home to darkness….except for a fire built in the middle of the room….

But, Who knows? Maybe we simply haven’t uncovered all their luxuries. But, I doubt it. And…. Also consider that entire families….probably extended families….all lived in the same small house….slept in the same room….. Think of those implications for a minute.

No…. As for me. There was not one minute that I felt urge or desire to transport myself back to those days. In fact, I think it would have been a perfectly miserable life.

But….I digress.  As I mentioned earlier, I remember being Mesa Verde being much more accessible than we found it this time. When Dusty Davis and I were there back in the early 1980’s, I seem to remember being able to park our car….and climb among the ruins. This may simply be an illusion that has formed because of the passage of time. However, there was one loop of the park that was still closed for the winter months. I suppose it is possible that this could have been the place where Dusty and I went. Probably not…. But, who knows? Today, all the view points are quite far from the actual ruins. The old villages….old “cliff dwellings”…. can only be viewed from parking lots on the far side of the canyon…..looking across and down up on them. As a matter of fact, without a zoom lens on my camera, it would not have been possible to take very good pictures. But, the distant view does afford a better perspective, I suppose.

Only the houses which were built down into the earth were available for closeup inspection. These excavated ruins are sheltered in large building….covered to protect the excavations from exposure to the elements of nature….and to protect them from the eventual fate of being swallowed up by the earth again.

These villages are separated from each other, and seeing them all requires from driving. We easily were able to see two of the three loops in a matter of a couple hours or so. We stopped to look at most of the exhibits and gave each of them a fairly thorough inspection, although we did not linger unnecessarily.

As we drove along from exhibit to exhibit….from village to village….I wondered if the people of each of the villages socialized with each other….if, indeed, they ever knew each other. Maybe they climbed the ladders every Saturday night and met at their local buffalo barbeque pit….drank beer…gossiped….and danced the night away to the sound of drums beating and women dancing. But….. No. I can imagine their lives were difficult, boring…..perhaps somewhat hopeless….and without much intellectual stimulation.

But, as the old saying goes: If you do not know something…. You cannot miss it.

After spending a pleasant evening in Durango, Colorado, in yet another disappointing motel, we left Mesa Verde National Park behind, left the semi-arid land of Indian Territory and headed up into the Rocky Mountains. We drove north toward Montrose, passing through some spectacular snow covered mountains. We stopped occasionally to take in the breathtaking vistas….and to take pictures. It was only the first days of spring, little of the snow had melted, and the mountains were white, gleaming with deep layers of snow.

Traffic was light, the day was sunny and calm…. There were plenty of well-placed pull-overs, making it easy and convenient to stop the car, get out and enjoy the awesome surroundings. The air was clean and crisp. Our senses were invigorated and alive. “You fill up my senses…..like the mountains in springtime….” (John Denver) Around every curve were more snow covered mountain vistas….almost begging to be photographed….to be enjoyed….to be savored. But…. Like I have always said: “If you have seen one mountain…. You have seen them all…” Yeah….I know. Not a very sympathetic or sentimental attitude….but, certainly a realistic one.

In contrast with some previous trips we have taken, this time we actually did stop a few times…several times, in fact….to take pictures….and not just keep driving. What point is there in taking a trip….especially a trip with such dramatic and dazzling scenery….if you come home with nothing to remember it by? Of course, a person cannot take a pictures of every mountain….no should he. In that case, he will find himself looking back on the pictures at a later time asking, “I wonder why I took so many pictures of the mountains?” Or “I wonder why I took that picture?” But, I always want to take enough pictures…representative pictures….of all that I have seen and experienced. Pictures help bring back memories and remind us of adventures and the joy we experienced during the trip.

We made brief stops in Silverton and in Ouray….both historic old mining towns….both of which have morphed into tourist towns over the years. Both of these town, especially Ouray, has become home to many of the rich and famous of the music and film world. Needless to say, neither of these two town is inexpensive. So, if you go there, expect to spend some money. You are probably paying not so much for the merchandise or service that you buy….but you are paying for the name. You know….Location…location…location. Ouray is home to several destination ski resorts in the winter time, and like many other little mountain towns, it works hard to maintain its quaint appearance and old mining town ambiance. Fortunately for Fayez and me….but not so fortunately for them….we managed to hold on to most of our money during our brief stay in both of those little towns.

After turning east on US 50 in Montrose, we made steady progress toward Colorado Springs, where, just as suddenly as we entered the mountain near Durango….we left them again….and headed toward Limon, Colorado, where we spent the final night of our trip. There really is not much to say about the territory between Colorado Spring and Limon, except that it is best to cover it as quickly as possible. It is, in fact….and if it is possible….more boring than Western Kansas. And, slower, since the entire seventy or so miles is all two-lane highway dotted only with sparsely small, forgettable little towns.

From the time we arrived in Clayton, New Mexico four days earlier, we had heard rumors and predictions of a major winter storm which was bearing down on central Colorado….if not the entire state. Out of caution, I had watched the weather forecasts rather closely. I wanted to be ready to change our route, if that became necessary….and take a

highway that would avoid any risk of danger….or possible delay.

When we checked into our motel room in Limon, I asked the desk clerk about the latest weather predictions. He did not seem at all worried. “Yes… They have been talking about it, but I think the storm is only going to affect mountain driving.” OK… That sounded good.

That night we watched the local weather forecast. They, too, more or less echoed what the desk clerk had told us: The storm was going to primarily be confined to the mountains. So, we drifted off to slumber land without any premonition that a blizzard might be imminent.

Sometime in the middle of the night….the very early hours of Friday morning…..I was awakened by noise originating from somewhere. I lay in my bed for a couple minutes and listened. Finally I got out of bed, went to the window and looked out. The wind was blowing with great fury…..and rain was pouring down in torrents….being blasted against the cars in the parking lot with all the force of a power washer….and was rebounding off the pavement like small marbles.

My immediate thought was, “Wow! I am getting a much needed free car wash.” I stood at the window and peered out for a couple minutes. Traffic was sparse…. I-70 was just beyond our motel. Other than the pounding rain and the driving wind, there was not much to

look at. So, I went back to bed….and slept rather peacefully.

When I rolled over and looked at the clock beside my bed, it read 6:30. Time to get up, take a shower, wake up Fayez, eat breakfast….and head the rental car in the direction of home. The sound of the wind was still clearly audible. Again, I pulled back the drapes and looked out into the parking lot. The scene outside our motel window sent ripples of apprehension down my spine. It was not what I had expected….certainly not what I had wanted to see. It was a scene that would strike fear into the heart of any traveler.

The cars in the parking lot were covered with a layer of ice. Not only the world outside the window coated with ice…. But, it was still falling from the sky….and falling at a steady pace. It was not a scene that inspired confidence or emboldened the spirit. I have lived through a great many ice storms. There is nothing about an ice storm that I find to be admirable. Ice storms are synonymous with danger and destruction….with inconvenience and disruption.

But, I knew nothing about the road conditions….or the current weather forecast…. I only knew what I saw. I chose not to disturb Fayez, who still snoozing away, unaware of anything beyond his own dreamworld. I proceeded to take a shower and get dressed. By this time, Fayez had awakened into a mild form of consciousness….enough so that I was able to give him a description of the weather taking place outside our window. Fayez, who in reality has had very few real-life experiences, tended to dismiss the situation.

While Fayez was taking a shower, I walked to the front desk of the motel to see if I could get more information on the weather conditions….and what to expect. The woman behind the counter…. She was the owner of the motel, I think…..said that I-70 was closed….both the west lanes as well as the east-bound lanes….the lanes we needed to travel on our trip back home.

No sooner had she told me this….and the power went off, leaving us….figuratively speaking….in the dark. No electricity meant no TV….which meant no access to weather information….which meant we were suspended in a state of uncertainty. The woman…the owner of the motel…was trying valiantly to contact a friend or relative of hers in another town. Her cell phone was losing battery power….and communication was becoming difficult.

For the time being, there was little we could do….except sit and wait. The absence of electric power meant no coffee maker, no waffle iron, no refrigeration….no microwave oven…. So, we sat in the relative gloom of the morning, the lobby lighted only by the cloudy skies outside, and drank rapidly cooling coffee….and ate food that did not require any preparation…. Thankfully, we were the first of the motel guests to reach the lobby, so at least we got what coffee had already been brewed. So…. We sat and talked nervously and looked out the window of the lobby and observed the almost complete absence of traffic on the street outside the motel.

 

 

 

 

 

It was well after 7:00 by now…. Fayez was about to go insane. He wanted to leave….he wanted to get back to his college work, to his research….but was tempered by the reality that the highway was closed to all traffic….and this was not one of our options. As for me: I really didn’t care all that much. Being trapped in Limon, Colorado, for a day and another night, was not going to permanently ruin my life. All I really had to do was call the rental car agency and explain the situation….and tell them I would be returning the car one day late. But, this was not an encouraging or even a humane thing to bring up at the time.

The woman assured us that we would be able to stay in the room for as long as the highway was closed. I appreciated that gesture made out of kindness. It was meant to be….and it actually was….reassuring and somewhat comforting. But, I also considered the gloomy facts: We would be assured of a place to sleep. But, with no electricity, there would be no TV…no Internet….no computer….no light in the room…no heat….and, probably, no hot water. So….the score at that point was Positive: 1 Negative: 7. Oh, oh…. I just thought of another negative: There was not even one comfortable chair in the entire motel room….unless you want to call a straight back desk chair as being comfortable. You can…..but not me!

So…. There we sat….trying to manufacture some sort of semi-optimistic conversation.   For the most part, Fayez’s brand of optimistic conversation was mainly, “We have to get out of here.” and “I have to get back to Wichita.” or “I have to work on my project.” Sitting there staring mournfully out the window, there did seem to be one bright spot…a small cause for hope. The freezing rain had stopped….at least, temporarily. We spotted a few snow plows driving past. But, were they clearing the highway…or were they clearing the city streets? The owner of the motel continued to gain more information on the

weather….and more importantly, on the road conditions.

As we sat, descending further into hopelessness, the electricity flickered back on. This brightened the mood of the room immediately….for by this time, other motel guests had entered the lobby/breakfast area. At least, there would be hot coffee….and waffles…. This also meant that they owner could begin to recharge her cell phone….which meant she could make more telephone calls….which she did. But, mostly, she was calling her employees to ask if they would be able to make to work that day.

It was around 9:00 when she cheerfully announced that the east-bound lanes of I-70 had been re-opened, at least temporarily. The west-bound lanes were still barricaded. But, that wasn’t our problem! Poor people stranded heading toward Denver or the mountains. We mentally wished them luck….and our sympathy.

That was all we needed to hear. We raced back to our room hurriedly packed our belongings and prepared to leave. Leaving was not quite so easy, however. The car was completely covered with ice. Luckily, it was not a solid ice….and by opening and closing the windows, using the defroster, and our bare hands….we removed enough of the ice and slush to take off.

Sure enough, the barricades to the east-bound lanes had been removed. The highway was not in good shape. Even though they had been treated….and even though snow plows had been over them recently….they were still in a dangerous state. I cautioned Fayez to drive carefully….and slowly. He was in a hurry to get back to Wichita….and for the first couple minutes largely ignored my warning. But….after a couple times of the rear end of the car fish-tailing, he was subdued enough to drive with more caution.

For about 50 miles, we were the only car on the highway. It was almost surreal. We had I-70 completely and entirely to ourselves. We began to question if we were even supposed to be driving on the highway. Maybe the highway had not opened yet. Maybe the woman at the motel has not understood. Maybe she had misinformed us. But…. We kept driving…. Actually, we didn’t have any choice at this point. Still….no cars. We looked into the rear-view mirror…. Nothing. We passed on-coming ramps. No cars…. Not even

a snow plow…. Not ever a highway patrol man…..

We knew that the west-bound lanes were closed… We could see the barricades that were blocking the entry ramps. Intellectually we understood why there were no cars in the opposite late….although that did little to alleviate the spookiness of the situation. We were alone on one of the busiest highways in Colorado.

The further east we drove, the condition of the highway began to improve. We were driving away from the storm….and apparently keeping well ahead of its progress. I kept checking my cell phone. We were still deep inside the area of the winter storm warning. We were not out of the wood yet, as the old saying goes….although in eastern Colorado, there are certainly no woods!

Finally, about 50 miles east of Limon, we saw an 18-wheeler driving down the on-ramp. As for me…. I had never been or relieved to see an 18-wheeler in my entire life. Life did exist! We were not alone! As we got closer to Burlington, Colorado, a few more vehicles began to appear. Traffic….east-bound traffic….was starting to return to normal. And, we felt, we were starting to return to the real world.

We were indeed fortunate. I kept checking the weather conditions in Limon. The blizzard did indeed hit Limon. The highway into and out of Limon closed again…. But, we really didn’t care. We were safely on our way back to Kansas

Yes…. It was “springtime in the Rockies” ….well, almost. But…. Give me springtime in good old Kansas. And…. Yes. We made it back to Wichita. Fayez went back to college. I came home. And, that, my friends….is how Fayez and I spent his spring break.