Hooray for Ouray!

The slight metallic vibration of the bubbling coffee percolator against the stove top's iron grate and the smell of coffee beginning to brew pulls me out of my half-slumber state into the reality of morning. I fight to extricate my feet from the clump of sheet, blanket, and quilt that formed an impenetrable mass at the base of our "short queen" camper bed (made for hobbits, not humans). I stand up, stretch, and prepare to navigate the narrow alley between the bed and the side of the trailer.

Ready? Breathe in, exhale, suck in the belly, and shuffle sideways around the bed. I finally pop out into the dining area of the Carly Too, expanding both gut and butt in a whoosh. I breathe in again, happily check my surroundings, peek out to see the hypnotic rushing of the Uncompahgre River just outside our door, and thank my husband for starting the coffee that only I drink, apologizing again for bedcovers that always seem to clump up on my side of the bed. He looks up from his current Sudoku puzzle and rolls his eyes. Without words, we both look out the window and know we are exactly where we want to be at that moment.

The Uncompahgre River right outside our trailer door

We're at the 4J+1+1 Campground in Ouray ("you-ray"), Colorado. I really should've asked about the origin of that name when we checked in yesterday, but we were too excited to get the trailer set up at our riverside spot so we could relax -- finally, after the white-knuckle drive over three mountain passes and hairpin curves along the Million-Dollar Highway between Durango and Ouray. A fun introduction to hauling a trailer.

About an hour after pulling in, we were leveled, balanced, jacked, refrigerated, watered, and electrified. Gosh, it's time for a cocktail! I can drink and knit at the same time, so my vacation knitting project came out, packed in a cute camper-themed bag I just had to buy on Etsy. Bruce completed his ensemble with his own drink, puzzle, and spotting scope for seeking bighorn sheep, tiny buff-colored dots feeding amidst the green tundra at the tops of the surrounding mountainsides.

Cute trailer-themed project bag by PoppyCod

He actually found a bighorn sheep so far up the mountainside
even my binoculars couldn't catch!

This was our first long-distance trip with the Carly Too. With a little sadness, but knowing it was easier on her and easier on us, we left Carly under the safekeeping of friends Cathy and Jim, their payment for watering our immense yard/garden in our absence.

What a deal! Water our yard AND get Carly in return!!!

Rather than chronicle our day-by-day litany of activities, I'll focus on my Top 3 Favorite Things, a habit we've developed as we share travel-related stories with our neighbors Julie and Glen, fellow avid travelers. It's a way to mindfully drill down what was most important and significant, and usually it's the most interesting to share. So in no particular order, here we go!

1.  The Landscape

Our route took us north through the Navajo Reservation to Farmington, New Mexico (our second time there in less than a year), up to Durango, and then north to Ouray.

Enormous cottonwood trees line the Animas River in between Farmington and Durango

 Farmington is a sprawling city based upon both agriculture and industry. It has both the Animas and San Juan rivers either running through it or in its proximity, and that means huge riparian corridors of towering cottonwoods and rushing water. While we have no plans to leave our Lakeside home, it was fun perusing Zillow for river-front homes in the Farmington-Aztec area. I think both of us felt that this area is a perfect location for exploration of the greater Four Corners region with prices that would be more affordable than those across the border in Colorado.

Serious mountains here!

The mountains surrounding Durango popped into view shortly after leaving Farmington. The San Juan range, one of the southernmost cluster of peaks in the greater Rocky Mountain complex, was a surprise. I had anticipated a more mellow range, as this is where the Rockies sort of petered out. Nope; the Rockies went out with a bang in the San Juans.

Remnants of old mining days are scattered around these mountains,
making us ponder the lives of those who toiled in this rugged country.

After experiencing two enormous wildfires in the past 20 years in our Arizona forests that burned nearly a million acres combined, the sight of expansive stands of healthy trees was a nice change, although I couldn't help but feel that these steep slopes where virtually nothing could be done to reduce fire risk are just waiting for the unfortunate combination of drought, heat, and wind to light up and burn.

Named for its cost ("a million dollars a mile"), the Million Dollar Highway has a fascinating history
of serving those who lived here.

The Million-Dollar Highway was breathtaking, the towns of Silverton and Ouray nestled in valleys, truly like their claims of "Switzerland of the U.S."

Silverton, Colorado main street. The day was a typical high-mountain day.
Sunny at this point, but we also had snow, sleet, and rain.

Ouray, Colorado

That IS why people travel, right? To see something different? This truly was a beautiful area, and the sights filled us with awe.

2.  The Unscheduled Day

On our first full day in Ouray, we explored some of the scenic roads between both Ouray and Silverton. By the next day, we felt we had covered quite a bit of turf, and were a little undecided what to do after visiting Box Canyon (a must-see).

We ended up driving north to Montrose, and stopped to visit any place that looked interesting. A produce stand, a quilt/yarn shop, and then...Mountain View Orchard and Winery, and after that, a park that pretty much blew us away, the Dennis Weaver Memorial Park outside of Ridgeway. What made this day onto my Top 3 list was the unstructured nature of taking a drive and seeing what there was to see...and being that we didn't have to be anywhere at any certain time, we took the time to enjoy whatever it was we were doing. Living in the moment so to speak.

Why not have a bit o'wine tasting and perhaps buy a bottle or two!
Too bad the famed Colorado peaches weren't ripe yet.

Dennis Weaver, actor and environmentalist, promoted a philosophy of living lightly on the land, including building his home he named Earthship out of recycled materials, long before it became mainstream. He walked the walk of his belief. A beloved resident of Ridgeway, he donated land in the area to create a park where one can take the time to reflect with nature, calm down, and meditate. It is linked to the town of Ridgeway by a trail that follows the Uncompahgre River. If you want to have a little meditative time to balance a rock on top of another rock in the practice of creating a cairn, well, this is the perfect place to do that. 

This bronze of a flying eagle had a 21-foot wingspan and weighs 2,800 pounds.

Chipmunk Zen

 3.  A Really Cool Campground

Since we're newbies at the RV-camping thing, we are also newbies to RV campgrounds. From now on, the campground for any comparison into the future will be the Dolores River RV Campground just outside of Dolores, Colorado. We had a one-night reservation while being homeward bound, and I could see why most of the other RVers there stay for weeks on end. It's that nice. Adjacent to the Dolores River, the campground is loaded with trees, a pond, a few short trails, and several "islands" of different size/type of camping spots. We enjoyed talking to our neighbors on either side of us, and had a very enjoyable conversation with another couple who were doing what we wanted to do: lounge along the Dolores River on a provided bench. A peaceful, relaxing stay that represented everything I thought RV camping could be.

I know I could easily do a Top 10 or Top 20 on this trip. So if you're interested, here are a few more highlights:

The geology shifts suddenly as you approach Ouray from Silverton.
Layers of volcanic rock tilt to a near-vertical angle almost
made Bruce drive off the road in amazement.

Go park yourself at the end of this walkway and I dare you to not shudder.

A curious marmot.

The Rio Grande Railroad, a vital conduit for the miners, residents, and visitors to southwestern Colorado
during the silver boom days, basically dried up and almost went bankrupt when silver prices sank.
The continuing need for mail delivery and citizen transportation created a series of "Galloping Goose"
rail-fitted and re-modeled diesel vehicle engines that worked these rail lines for a
number of decades. Fascinating history found here.  

Dolores, Colorado is one of the main gateways to Canyon of the Ancients, a labyrinth
of prehistoric relic sites of the pueblo peoples inhabiting the Four Corners area.
A short trail from the visitor center leads to the Escalante Pueblo, a striking
example of the ruins in this region. 

The visitor center. closed due to Covid-19, was still interesting in its landscaped flower gardens.

A Bigfoot silhouette surprises campers in a small copse of trees in the Dolores RV Campground.

Shiprock through the truck window.

Ahhhh, Colorado. We'll be back!!!

Ruminations on Routines

There's something to be said about having a routine. It's a type of security blanket that provides structure to a daily lifestyle and allows one to safely let the mind wander because whatever you're physically doing is rote. How many dreams have been dreamt while brushing your teeth, pumping those legs on the elliptical, or jogging across the country?

Well, maybe not for Forrest!

Our COVID-19 global pandemic has tossed some major wrenches in people's routines. For many, this has been the last thing to worry about as the stress of lost jobs and income, separation from family, exhausting essential work, illness, and even death of loved ones entered our lives. I've heard somewhere that "we're all in the same hurricane, just in different boats," and that rings true to both Bruce and me. We're blessed to be able to play the role asked of us by others suffering much more deeply us: stay home, stay safe, don't add to the overall social burden. We've never felt so lucky to be living on a fixed income, and have vowed to be as low-key and unobtrusive as possible, offering and giving support as much as we can.

Now throw in having a 13-year-old moderately-arthritic dog, Carly, who needs a daily walk (albeit short; one mile tops). Normally, I walk the neighborhood with friends Julie and Glen. As Carly's arthritis has worsened, I would take Carly on a short walk first, and then meet up with Julie and Glen to take a longer walk. I quickly realized it was too easy to blow off Real Walk #2 after the Carly Meander #1 ("think I'm done, have fun on your walk!" texts to Julie were common).

Much easier to jump into the hot tub

One day in Julie and Glen's absence, I decided to try walking Woodland Lake Park, an oasis in the heart of Pinetop-Lakeside. A one-mile paved trail circles Woodland Lake, where families picnic, kids fish, joggers jog, walkers walk, and the mix of wildlife changes daily. Ospreys soar overhead, competing for the same fish swimming cormorants and shoreline anglers seek. Geese and ducks keep their guard up as they shuttle babies from shore to water, and birds like purple martins, Lewis's woodpeckers, western bluebirds, white-breasted nuthatches, and so many more fly within the trees and over the water, snapping up insects and seemingly flying for the sheer joy of it. I tend to avoid the park during the summer as it gets heavy on people, but it is a unique, delightful place. By going there this one time, I shook things up.

I found it enjoyable, peaceful, and relaxing. Two needs were met as well: 1) Carly gets a decent one-miler in with lots of sniffing and exploring; and 2) a longer walk for me is a given, since I'm there and can't rationalize leaving until I circle around a couple extra times (while Carly lounges in the shaded car). It was bit of a shake-up at first for all involved when I started going back a few times each week. My daily connection with Julie changed to every other day, an adjustment for both of us. Bruce, in charge of breakfast in our household, had to shift its timing to allow for my early departure to the park and also for my near two-hour absence from the house and our morning chores. So this change not only affected me -- and Carly -- but others as well. I guess it's a certainty that uncertain times force change in some form. This tiny example showed me that embracing change, which all of us involved did, is much easier than fighting it. It's good practice for whatever more serious changes might be in store for us in the future, right?

A typical sight! 

In the beginning, it was a bit tough to take the extra time to pack up the dog, her walking gear, little bottle of water, and other paraphernalia into the car, and drive 12 minutes (yes, I timed it) to the park, rather than simply walk out the front door and venture down our road. But I persevered, and now I find that I look forward to our morning park walks.

It's nice enough to see the "early" crowd of walkers on a regular basis, as we nod "hello" as we pass each other. However, the biggest reward is observing the near-daily changes in wildlife activity as late winter turned to spring, and spring to summer. One day there were 8 ospreys flying overhead, fishing. The next day, none. But then a few came back, and usually there are at least one or two every morning. One day there are 20 cormorants, the next day only a couple. Where'd the others go, I wonder? Migrating through? I located two Lewis's woodpecker nest cavities after seeing adults swoop in to feed their young. One time, a Lewis's was foraging along the muddy shoreline picking out bugs like a sandpiper; I had never seen that behavior before. And look at those goslings! They've grown so much in the last few days! A few weeks into this new routine, I brought my camera, took some photos, and I was hooked! Looking for that great picture forced me to sharpen my observation skills, and that's only enhanced my experiences at this wondrous piece of the world.

A Double-crested Cormorant, one of many, perch on a branch to dry off feathers.
Look at that blue eye!

Lewis's Woodpecker acting as expected

Lewis's Woodpecker acting unexpectedly like a sandpiper, picking out bugs in the water.

One of many ospreys waiting for the right moment to nab a fish.

I always enjoy watching both purple martins and violet-green swallows zoom into multiple holes in a standing dead tree out on the shoreline. I thought I got a decent photo of the most common, a violet-green swallow, only to find out when I worked on my photos at home, it was the less common tree swallow, cool! Killdeer skitter along the shoreline and great blue herons solemnly stare into the water no doubt mentally visualizing fish to appear. I happened to catch one heron that had caught an enormous bullhead; I have no idea how it would ever consume it. I now look forward to whatever each visit may bring. I've amassed a very nice portfolio of halfway-decent photos of Woodland Lake Park's wild creatures, and more can be found here.

Surprise, it's a tree swallow!

Hen mallard with ducklings.

Awwww, geez.

At least three Canada goose families have made Woodland part of their feeding grounds.
I'm very curious as to where they're nesting!

Great Blue Heron conjuring up a fish.

And one with an actual fish. How does that thing get down that skinny neck???

Killdeer, a plover that is named from its sharp "kill-DEER!" whistle.

Ah, got that purple iridescence on this Purple Martin.
So often these beauties just look black in photographs.

So is this new reality changing your routines? For the most part, I have opened my eyes and heart to absorb a different world. It's not scary, it's not stressful. It's just change. Sometimes, while there are benefits of sticking to a routine, there are also benefits to shaking things up. New sights and sounds expand the brain, and I for one am okay with that. I now wonder: what's next???

An American Coot feeds its fledgling

A backlit cormorant on a stump.

The balancing act of one of many drake Mallards.

One Eared Grebe has been hanging around at the lake for several days.
Its red eye and sideburns are challenging to capture in sunlight.

A Turkey Vulture taking a break from seeking dead things to eat.

A Lewis's Woodpecker takes off just as I clicked the shutter.

Not all beauty at the park lies in birds.
The red of these cactus blooms in this dry, high-elevation forest just pop!