denver and too many other places

It’s funny now, the way we deliberated on whether to take 70 West, then head south, or Route 225 to 25, at 6 hours and 44 minutes or 6 hours and 46 minutes respectively. 70 South to 285 was out of the question at 8 hours and 8 minutes! We chose the shorter, not because we wanted to save two minutes, but because we would likely take the other on our return trip. 

Prior to leaving the Mile High City, we did what we do before traveling where there's little fresh food, and supplied up. Mi Pueblo fit the bill and then some, offering a bountiful variety of fresh fruits and vegetables, prepared foods for takeaway and hot meals to eat there. We said yes to all three, hungry and thinking about our future. As Nat enjoyed a breakfast papusa and I appalled fellow diners by eating guacamole with a fork, we watched the Central American families and work teams gathering there to share a meal before their day started, not a word of English spoken. In the parking lot, we noticed the Aurora Public Library in the sort of building usually designated for a car rental company, a flashing open sign and bars on the windows, making us grateful for the edifice and interior we’re lucky enough to have access to.

Having recently had the opportunity to understand how Nat's and my travel style is perceived by others, I've taken to calling us feral. Too much planning brings about a caged feeling, rather we treat visiting a new place as permission to welcome whatever decides to appear in our path. This occasionally leads to "unpredictable events" but for us it's part of the journey. We treat a route to a destination as more of a sketch than a finished drawing. 

Our first stop was Bailey, a tiny community you'd be generous to call a town, at the base of mountains on both sides. I can’t tell you why we pulled over, but once we saw the Sasquatch Outpost, which serves as a museum and Sasquatch themed giftshop, we faced the stress of being the only customers head on. No purchases were made, but we learned that town members believe.

Within a few hours, we'd driven through 5 or 6 landscapes, mostly different kinds of mountains ranging from rocky to scraggy to conifer laden to red rock without trees to red rock with trees, a beautiful, rolling valley and a pristine lake. It's really at this lake that the story starts and in order to tell it, I've spent 15 minutes on google maps trying to reconstruct our route and still don't understand how we ended up going the way we did. Be that as it may, we were rolling along when we got to Blue Mesa lake and suddenly, the road was closed. Having no cellular and only one option, we took it, making a left and continuing to head south on the opposite side of the lake with pretty, winding roads, occasional trucks, a few minutes of sleet and very little else. We passed only one turnoff, to the right, but there was a police saw horse across it and worker people, so we continued on, after an hour or so arriving in the charming hamlet of  Lake City, which it turns out is something of a dead end when it comes to driving to Telluride. Having already divined that Coloradans were friendly folk, we went old school and asked for directions from a veteran, who kindly explained what we had no way of knowing, that both closed off roads were the result of a crew working on a bridge, allowing passing only from 8:30 to 9:30 in the morning and 4:30 to 5:30 in the afternoon. 

As it was almost 4, we retraced our route, heading to the dirt road we'd seen closed off. and got in line with at least 30 tractor trailers, opting to stretch our legs in a nearby piñon forest while we waited. At 4:15, a pilot vehicle with a flashing light led a long stream of mostly trucks coming from the other direction to ours, lasting about 20 minutes. Once they were through, the pilot turned around and led us along straw colored rolling hills, beautiful afternoon sunshine sneaking through angry clouds here and there. 

After that, we were on our way, arriving in Telluride more than 10 hours after we began, and shortly after the kitchens were closed. Not being able to face more corn tortillas, refried beans, salsa and guac, we headed to Steamies, the only place open, and marveled at the variety of flavored mayonnaises they offered. Bed and sleep were most welcome.