Sometimes the road kicks my ass and I wonder if having a staycation wouldn’t be better. Things can get a little hectic, especially if it’s a sunny Saturday, fairs are going on, and I haven’t got a clue where I’m really going because I’m mostly making up the trip as I’m driving along, perching at picnic benches at rest stops and deciding where I’ll drive for the next couple hundred kilometers. I have an idea of the main parks I may want to visit, but there is a lot of in between that gets filled in as I scour the atlas at rest stops.
I wake up early, elk already grazing at the campground at Rocky Mountain National Park, pack and am on the road by 7. Eventually the stomach demands to be fed, so I stop to have breakfast by the lake, assembling yogurt and granola and some fresh fruit on the boot of the car.
I have a plan: the plan is to drive down and get a campground near Carbondale so that tomorrow I can drive down to Marble, park my car and do a 6 mile hike to Crystal City, a well preserved mining, now ghost, town. The 6 mile hike is actually a 4WD road, but there are enough signs along the way to discourage me from trying to drive it – it’s too early in the trip to be adventurous with the Civic.
The I-70 west of Empire is a downhill slide. There are massive signs warning drivers about the steep decline, urging drivers to get into a lower gear, and alerting trucks of their special lanes. One official sign about halfway through the 7 mile descent comically mentions that it’s not over yet. And it’s not. Though the speed limit is 65 mph, noone does it. Cars speed at 75 to 80 mph if they don’t press on their breaks, and very few do. When the highway curves, the break lights make short appearances, but mostly we are cruising and picking up speed. Few dare to change lanes, and I am not one of them. I’m in fifth gear, both hands on the wheel (though I do have to urge to put my hands in the air because this feels like a rollercoaster ride), right foot hovering over the brake, eyes on the road (ok, and all around since the scenery is awesome). My tab for fuel efficiency shows great results. There are some trucks stopped along the way, their hoods open, their breaks needing a rest before driving any more, their drivers pacing.
Driving down this stretch of I-70 feels like being in a game, and even once the crazy decline ends, it’s still like playing, rather than driving. I don’t have to press on the accelerator much, and the views are stunning.
In the early afternoon I start looking for campgrounds. Each one I pass is full.
My plans are foiled. I can’t get anywhere close to Crystal Lake, and I don’t want to have to drive far to get back there tomorrow. Aspen is busy and past Aspen, all campgrounds are also full. There’s also a fire near Aspen, the smoke rising into a cloud above the forest.
I’m forced to revise my plan. I ditch the Crystal Lake hike, and drive on. There’s road ahead, and I have to find a place to sleep – I don’t want to sleep in the car, so the plan is to head in the direction of Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park.
On Hwy 82, past Aspen, I’m back in a game, climbing the roads for Independence Pass, then cruising downhill, maneuvering the car round sharp turns.
And on. And on. And on. I’m far from where I wanted to be and the radio broadcasts warn of severe thunderstorms, dime sized hail and flash floods in the area. So, all of a sudden, it is a good thing I can’t find campgrounds in the area.
I do find the thunderstorm, and the rain makes it difficult for the windshield wipers to clear the water from my windshield. All cars slow down.
By the time I arrive in Gunnison, I’m tired, achy and a little frustrated – I had not wanted to be in the car for so long, even if I did drive on some fabulous stretches of road, in and out of mountains, up and down them.
In Gunnison, the campgrounds are full, so I buckle and set to finding a motel or inn. Each time I’m greeted with a No vacancy. Sorry, we’re full. We have a room, but it has three beds and you’ll have to pay full price for it. When I don’t see a red light with a no vacancy sign I feel relief coming, but then find a handwritten note stuck to the office front door: no vacancy. There is no available space in Gunnison, or the road that leads out of it.
It is already gone 7pm, and again, all I have is the road. I drive through Curecanti National Recreation Area and find a campground. There is water nearby, with mountains in the background. The air is fresh. For dinner I have a cup of milo I make with half a mug of water and half a mug of evaporated milk. It’s all I have a craving for.
Lesson: do not come to Colorado on a Saturday if you don’t have a reservation and aren’t prepared to do wild camping (though I’m not sure about Colorado and its wild camping laws.)
