The brochures and info sheets say the Highway 550 will test my nerves with sharp turns and narrow roads. It is a beautiful stretch of road, with lovely views, but I can’t drive at the speed I want because, even though it is morning, I usually have someone in front of me setting the pace, and it is slower than I’d like.
Still, the drive down the Million Dollar Highway is full of pleasures. There are times during ascents where I keep my foot heavy on the accelerator and push forward, followed by stretches in 2nd gear, my foot floating over the break. It’s great fun, akin to the curvy turns and narrow roads of the Needles Highway in Custer State Park.
My Civic breezes through Molas Pass (elevation 3,340m), Coal Bear Pass(elevation 3,240m), and Red Mountain Pass (elevation 3,358m), before making a speedy descent to Silverton.
It’s early, so most of the shops are still closed, but the ATV rental is abuzz, several ATVs already buzzing along Main Street, drivers wearing helmets, goggles and sporting big beards, I suspect to keep their faces from getting too weathered by the wind as they drive in their open-top vehicles, ready for sand, speed, and a little bit of danger.
Colorado is a playground: it’s full of hikers, runners, bike riders, motorcycles, 4WD (preferably Jeep) and a variety of cool lookings ATVs. I am driving a 2WB thus many of the roads and mountain passes are off limits. I could go on a tour, but I see the cool, modified vehicles they take and I don’t just want to be a passenger: I want to be the driver. Renting a Jeep for a day would be great, but costly, and renting the ATV would be incredible, but I’d want someone else in it with me to share the laughs, and possibly the screams.
Silverton is cute; it’s probably not the word locals would like me to use, but it’s what it is: a rugged kind of cute. The railway imagined and built by Palmer ends here, so the town is geared for tourists that have a 2.5 hour layover when they ride the steam engine from Durango, but it retains its western, small town charm. Like in most towns, only Main Street is paved. Parallel to it is Empire Street, the one that saw all the action in the late 1880s when it was lined with brothels.
Durango is my next stop. Driving in and around I see signs, handwritten, drawn, painted and professionally made, saying “Thank you to our firefighters,” “We love our firefighters,” and so on. At the tourist office I ask if it is the month to commemorate firefighters. The woman laughs, tells me that on the 1st of June a fire broke out in the forest just north of town, and begins to paint a picture as her finger travels over a map of the area. 600 firefighters from around the country came to slow the fire down and stop it from spreading into the city. Evacuations took place. The city was covered in smoke. Barber shops had signs out saying, “Free cuts for firefighters.” Cafes had free meals for them. The town rallied their support. “This summer will be remembered as, “the summer of the fire,” I was told. The appreciation for the firefighters continues, late into the summer. The fire is still burning, up north, but 50% contained and not near any major settlements.
There are many fires burning in the States today.
In Durango I meet two people who I could easily have imagined as my life partners, had they not been either too young, or too old and happily married:
1: Durango has a free, and amazing, train museum. Here I meet Mr. Robins, a Texan, retired from the Post Office 19 years ago, in his 82nd year of life, hanging out in the museum while his wife shops and his grandchildren play somewhere. In his better days, pre-heart attack and bypass surgery, he camped, hiked, backpacked and travelled to all the National Parks in the States. He shares some stories of camping back in the 60s, before some of the parks were even ‘National,’ talking about the rugged campsites, sleeping in watch towers, and standing face to face with wildlife.
“I used to have my tent and sleeping bag in the back of my car, and drove off into the wild whenever I felt like it. Those were the days,” he laughs.
He assumes that I am younger than I am and expresses worry that I am travelling alone. I reveal my age, and he reprimands me for not having a husband, at which it is my time to laugh.
He is amazing.
Also, he teaches me the secret to lasting youth – travel and camp and walk. Thank you Mr. Robins.
2: For dinner I drive to James Ranch, just outside Durango. While I wait for my grilled summer squash, carmelized onions, lettuce, tomato, and homemade sauces in a brioche bun burger (I haven’t been this excited about a burger for a long time!) First I rummage in the Farm Shop where I am given a taste, as well as an explanation of, the cheeses, which, of course, I purchase, and then happily stand outside in the sun, waiting for my order. The young man who works the till and has a wealth of knowledge about cheese comes out for a chat. He is munching on a cucumber.
“The perfect snack,” he says.
He’s just finished his first year of university, studying environment management – enthusiastically, he describes the program and his learning. I am not versed in the vernacular and have forgotten the details, though his enthusiasm was enchanting.
He talks about hearing a charismatic Toronto mayor talk at his university about how Toronto is trying to do cool things to be a sustainable, clean city. He is a well spoken young man, passionate about biodiversity and sustainability and cheese and his parent’s farm. He talks to me about the English books he’s read in high school (‘The Sound and the Fury’ and ‘Crime and Punishment’ which is awesome!) and the English teachers that he remembers. He gives me tips about Utah and writes down a few place names. He gets passionate discussing the US school system, complaining about his classmates not being able to, in first year of university, write a proper sentence.
He was homeschooled until high school and is an excellent advertisement for the wonders of homeschooling in rearing well spoken, beautifully mannered, engaging and curious young people.
Two beautiful human beings made my day incredible. The beauty of travelling is that wonderful people colour my trip in rainbows, with pots of gold at the end of them, in form of stories, kinship and hope.
Back in Durango, full of the best burger I’ve ever had, I am in the middle of a pie auction, fundraising money for a youth rodeo. Homemade pies auction off for $250 to $750. I stand amongst the cowboys who are chatting, eating burgers, and making bids as each pie is paraded through the crowd. The atmosphere is jovial, I’m in a superb mood and catch myself wanting to raise my hand and bid, but I can’t afford a $500 pie!
Durango comes alive at night. Live music seeps out onto the streets from many of the bars that line the main drag.
On my drive to the campsite, I have the world’s best flashlight – a full moon, then a quiet night greets me at Junction Creek Campground.
