Rocky Mtns. 2016

Our flight was scheduled to depart Philadelphia Int’l Airport at 7:23 AM, meaning we had to be up very early and off to the airport by 5:30 or so.  Travis and Daytona drove us there (in exchange for $100, which included picking us up at the end).  We made good time to the airport and got through security without too much of a hitch.  The TSA inspectors find it necessary to pat me down in places I would have preferred they didn’t, but then that is air travel in this day and age.

We got some crappy egg sandwiches at an airport stand and then boarded our flight.  And then after being told that the plane had been “damaged,” we unboarded our flight.  That sucked.  We were told to proceed to another place at another gate, which of course was on the other side of the airport.  That plane wasn’t supposed to take off until 8:15 AM, which meant there was a good chance we’d miss our 9:50 AM connecting flight in Dallas.  So I inquired if there was any other flight or connection we could take.  The best they could come up with was midnight flight out of Seattle.  We took our chances with the 8:15 AM flight, which didn’t take off until well after that.  Once in the air, the plane made good time.  But even so, we were going to miss our connecting flight by a couple of minutes.  That is until we saw it was “Delayed.”  Never before had we been so happy to see a flight delayed.  The 15-minute delay turned into about 2 hours, which also sucked, although not nearly as much as having to spend the night in Dallas.

I figured once we landed in Bozeman, our travel snafus would all be behind us.  But they weren’t.  We proceeded to the Budget Car Rental kiosk to pick up our mid-sized SUV rental.  In passing I mentioned that we’d be returning the car to the Durango airport.  The Budget employee said that was not possible because they didn’t have an office at the Durango airport.  So I looked at the reservation confirmation, and sure enough it said the drop-off was Bozeman.  How could that be I wondered?  (Later when trying to make another reservation one, I realized what had happened.  The Budget’s website allows the user to enter Durango and proceed as if it had been selected, but in fact the reservation reverts back to Bozeman as the drop-off site.  I do not know what we would have done if this hadn’t been caught beforehand.)

Since we had reservations to fly out of Durango, we had to return the car there.  So I tried National Car Rental.  I had a reservation with them as well and had just cancelled it the night before.  I tried to reactivate it.  But that wasn’t possible, so they gave me a quote for an SUV.  It came to over $2000.  The quote for a standard car was over $1000, which was still way more that the $444 charge for reservation I’d cancelled.  Things were not starting off well.  I was bummed.  Sharon asked if we could rent the car from Budget and return it early, and in the meantime we could hopefully find a better deal from National or whoever.  Budget agreed, so we took that car, which was very nice Nissan Rogue.

Finally, we started our vacation and headed to the Ramada Bozeman a few miles from downtown Bozeman.  The room was nice and the location easy to access, although a downtown hotel would have been preferable.  After settling into the Ramada, I called John and he invited us to come on out, which we did after I at last was able to get my bearings straight.  We got there about 4 PM, and while Donna finished her workout on the Nordic track, John gave us tour of their house and grounds, which Sharon and Eric had never seen.  Afterward, Donna joined us and we had some chicken salad sandwiches that John had prepared and cold beer out in their garden/patio area.  The chicken salad was excellent.  The weather was perfect.  Finally, we were relaxing and enjoying ourselves after a hectic day of travel.

Soon after that repast, the five of us headed out on foot to an ice cream truck about a mile or two away.  When I was last in Bozeman in 2007, the Main Street area was under construction, so I didn’t get a real good feel for the town.  Now it was all put back together, and what a lovely town it is—teeming with quaint and inviting restaurants on every block.  We thought about stopping in one for a beer, but that didn’t come to pass.  We reached our destination where we got some very rich ice cream from the Genuine Ice Cream Co. truck at 122 W. Main (http://www.genuineicecream.com/) and sat there and enjoyed it.  Then we started back toward John and Donna’s house, stopping along the way to check out a remodeled motel and then talk to an old friend of John’s, who was out walking her little dog.

We watched a little TV back at John and Donna’s, perhaps some of the Democratic National Convention, and engaged in a little political discussion with John, notably about the “Citizens United” Supreme Court Case.  As we prepared to leave, Donna gave us directions to a nearby convenience store, where we could get some beer, which we did.  Back at the Ramada, we watched TV and imbibed some of that beer.

Our first order of business on the first full day of the trip was to partake of the complimentary breakfast at the Ramada.  It was a congested affair due to the high volume of guests and small dining area, situated by the front desk.  We were lucky enough, however, to find a table.  I fixed myself an egg and sausage sandwich.  Sharon & Eric had waffles.

After showers, we headed to John and Donna’s house and soon after took off with John to go hiking.  John drove to a place he’d hand-picked for the hike.  We had no idea what was in store but trusted his judgment on what would be suitable for our gang.  And he didn’t let us down.  The drive to the Fairy Lake Campground via Montana 86 took about an hour.  The last several miles of which, along Fairy Lake Road, were over some rough terrain, so we were happy than John had volunteered to take his minivan. 

After parking at the campground, John outfitted each of us with hats and walking poles.  Then we started hiking the trail leading up Sacagawea Peak.  The trail started through shady woods, offering a glimpse of the idyllic Fairy Lake, and soon traversed around some ravines along a more challenging stretch, or if not actually challenging then potentially dangerous.  Then it ran quite a ways up the gentle incline of the bowl over a rock-strewn path before reaching a steep incline.  At first, John hung back as is his apparent practice, while the rest of us strode on ahead.  By the time we were half way through the bowl, he and Eric had taken the lead, not that I was trying to race any one.  When we reached the steep rise, Eric decided to go straight up; whereas, the rest of us followed the goat-path switchbacks up to the crest.  About half way up, two interesting things happened—I began having traction problems and Eric got lost in a no-man’s land.  In fact, for several minutes we lost all contact with Eric and started to get a little concerned.  When finally spotting him, we shouted to him that he should probably head back down.  He said he couldn’t, but that he was only 10 feet from the top.  It may have looked to him like he was only 10 feet from the top, but we could see that he still had quite a way to go.  However long it was and however little traction my old and worn Merrell Mocs provided, we all made it to the top (or at least what was the “top” for us—the actual peak of Sacagawea was still some ways off and above).  We stayed there for a few minutes taking in the spectacular nearly 360-degree view.  Then we started down.

The hike down was much tougher on my legs, mostly the quads, than going up.  And in parts a bit hairier as well.  Eric and John raced ahead; Sharon and I took it more leisurely.  Had it been a race, I’m sure we could have given them a run for the money, but it wasn’t a race.  The excursion set a Fitbit record for Sharon and me for “most floors climbed,” earning us the Fitbit “Waterfalls” badge for having climbed the equivalent of 300 or more floors.  For more about Mt. Sacagawea and the trail up it, see these links (and of course there are many others):

http://www.summitpost.org/sacagawea-peak/152809

http://serc.carleton.edu/research_education/trail_guides/sacagawea.html

http://www.fs.usda.gov/recarea/custergallatin/recarea/?recid=81170

On the ride back to John and Donna’s house, Sharon and I both nodded off for a spell.  Once back, we were met by John’s daughter Jocelyn and her two young, energetic, children.  We all sat in the kitchen and talked about sundry things, such as whether Yellowstone NP was better than Glacier NP (John favored the former because of its wildlife; whereas, Jocelyn the latter because of its natural splendor) and why Donald Trump has to most everyone’s utter amazement been able to garner the Republican presidential nomination (that’s one historians will be analyzing for decades, maybe centuries, to come).

The plan was for my cousin Sherry Sovilla and her husband Todd (not sure if they’re actually married) to stop over about 6 PM on their swing through town and all of us, except Jocelyn and her kids, go out for dinner.  I suggested that we dine at the Montana Ale House, http://montanaaleworks.com/, a block away, and John was receptive of the idea, so after Sherry and Todd arrived that’s where we went.  On the inside, the restaurant is sprawling and rustic yet cozy and comforting with a rectangular bar set in the middle of the room.  I ordered a Sawtooth Mountain Ale, and loved it (so much so that I sought it out after we got back home and found it in stock at Wegman’s for a brief spell).  I also got their fish sandwich, which was as tasty as all get up, and Sharon got the Wagyu beef burger.  And the rest all ordered what looked like delicious stuff.  The conversation was lively.  Sitting next to Todd, I learned that he and Sherry were Deadheads (hard to believe they’re still playing gigs after all these years).  He told me that John Meyer, best known for his song “Daughters,” is now in the band.  That too was hard to believe.

After we got back to John and Donna’s we saw a beer bus go by.  This was one of the things John proposed doing.  It involves traveling to several of Bozeman’s many brew pubs in an open-air trolley-like bus and stopping at each to sample their malted beverage.  After saying their good-byes on the street in the fresh evening air, Sherry and Todd took off to catch a flight at the Bozeman airport.  The rest of us went inside, where we retired for a spell to the handsome living room.  We watched some of the DNC convention, most notably Bill Clinton’s speech about the history of his early relationship with Hillary.  It was a great speech, and Sharon and I were captivated by it.  John and Donna, perhaps because they’re not Democrats or more likely because they had flights to catch tomorrow, relocated to the kitchen before Bill was done talking.  It was starting to get a bit late, and what with John and Donna’s travel plans, we felt it best to take off after the speech, so we made our farewells and departed.

Before returning to the Ramada, we stopped briefly at the Rocking R Bar, http://rockingrbar.com/, where Eric was carded, and although he was still a couple of hours short of being 21, they served him, maybe figuring he was 21 by Eastern Daylight Savings Time.  I wasn’t much impressed with the Rocking R Bar, so after a drink or two, we took off.  Back at the Ramada, I suppose we watched some TV and plotted out the next day’s course.

Note:  Oddly, after having not seen her since 1998, I saw Sherry about a month before in Cincinnati and then again this day. 

Note: The following day, John would fly to Dallas for a family gathering and Donna to Philly to be at the bedside of her Aunt-cum-Mom, Pat, who would die before the week was out.

We ate breakfast again at the Ramada, then loaded the car and checked out.  On the way to the Bozeman Airport, I filled the gas tank and bought a Styrofoam cooler and ice.  Our business at the airport involved dropping off the Budget rental and picking up one from National.

Things went pretty smoothly with returning the Nissan Rouge to Budget, but that was not the case with National.  The National rep offered us a Cadillac for an additional $9 a day.  I said I was more interested in a mid-sized SUV, so he offered us a Honda CR-V.  We took it and moved our stuff from the Nissan Rouge into the Honda and then returned to National’s kiosk to complete the paperwork.  Afterward, we were all set to go, except upon returning to the Honda, I noticed that the left rear tire was completely flat.  So it back to the National kiosk, where they put us in a Jeep Compass.  It was not as nice as the Honda, and had some seemingly impossible to remove white chalky stuff smeared on the passenger door and elsewhere.  Oh well, it would be our ride for the next seven days.

We hopped on Interstate 90 West and then on Interstate 15 North.  I hate to travel by Interstate, but we had a lot of ground to cover and wanted to get to Glacier National Park with ample daylight left.  The ride north was most remarkable for its “Big Sky” landscape.  What with the lack of trees and the flat terrain, you can see a long way in all directions.

A little past Great Falls, Montana, we took Montana Rt. 44 West and then U.S. 89 North toward Glacier National Park.  As we moved into the mountains, the sky grew dark and menacing and promised a deluge.  And we were heading right into it.  We met up with the storm in the little town of Browning, which lies within the confines of the Blackfeet Indian Reservation.  The rain fell so hard and so fast, we had to stop because we couldn’t see.  We ducked into a native-run store called Blackfeet Trading Post, getting drenched on the 25-foot run to the front door.  Inside we looked around for about 20 minutes, and ended up buying a bag of huckleberry gummy beers and sunglasses for Eric.  By then the rain had subsided, so we continued on our way through the mountains to the St. Mary entrance to the park.

We missed the cutoff for the entrance, but soon righted our ways (we also bought the most expense gas of the trip and took a pit stop).  At the park entrance we had to decide whether to get a $30 one park/one day pass or an $80 all parks/one year pass.  We chose the cheaper option. 

Then began our drive though what is without doubt one of the most amazing of all the national parks.  Our route from the east side to the west side was along Going-to-the-Sun Road https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Going-to-the-Sun_Road.  Cool name.  Out-of-this-world views.  We made several stops along the road to check out the stunning landscape and take a slew of pics.  What we didn’t do, owing to a lack of time, was go hiking on any of the many trails.  Nor did we see any glaciers.

The character of the Going-to-the-Sun Road starts out flat and meandering.  There are no berms or guardrails, but there are stones along the edge that probably wouldn’t stop a car from going over the edge but provide a psychological buffer.  After traversing along Lake Mary, however, the road climbs into the mountains and become very winding.  It was at this point, right before what’s called the East Side Tunnel, that Sharon relinquished driving duties to me.  Despite the narrow lanes, steep drop-offs, and hairpin turns, I didn’t find the road as dicey as some others, notably the Moki Dugway in Utah or the Italian side of Splugen Pass.  And my sense of safety was further enhanced by how slow the cars ahead were moving.  (On the Moki Dugway and Splugen Pass, we were the only car around.)  After the hairiest stretch in the vicinity of Logan Pass, the road descends again and runs through the woods along Lake McDonald to Apgar on the western side of the park.

Apgar is part attraction and part village two miles from the western entrance to Glacier National Park.  We had reservations to stay at the rustic Village Inn at Apgar.  We arrived about a half hour before sunset and checked into our room.  As we knew beforehand, the room was small, had no TV, and only one bed.  What did have was one helluva view.  Everyone at the inn, it seemed, was sitting outside gazing across Lake McDonald toward the mountains at the other end.  After taking a slew of photos, we walked to Eddies, http://www.eddiescafegifts.com/, which was the only restaurant in town, which would explain why “Everybody eats at Eddies” as the establishment proclaims.  We got there about 9:25 PM, which was five minutes before the kitchen closed.  Our food and beers were good, and from our table, we had a splendid view of the lake as daylight faded from view.  The beer was Eric’s first legal alcoholic drink in the country, this being his 21st birthday.  (He did have a legal drink in Hamilton, Bermuda, where the drinking age is 18, during the 2013 cruise.)

After dinner we wandered around the mostly deserted village a bit.  The most notable stop was at a gift shop next to our inn called, I believe, The Cedar Tree http://www.visitmt.com/listings/general/gift-shop/cedar-tree-gift-shop.html.  Eric bought an Indian-style peace pipe and Sharon considered but didn’t buy some earrings, which was too bad because they were beautiful and we never saw any like them again.  Back at the inn, we watched a few episodes of “The Wonder Years” that I had brought along on the laptop.  I fell asleep after the first, but Sharon and Eric made it through three or four more.

We arose early and caught the early morning view from the deck outside our room and then went to the office to check out the continental breakfast being offered.  The view was much the better of the two.  Afterward, we walked around the village a bit, stopping for coffee along the way, and checked out of the inn, after first loading the ice chest.  We drove all of a quarter mile or less and parked near the boat rental office on the lake, where we rented a row boat for one hour. 

It had been a long time since I rowed a boat, but it came right back to me.  After I got us out on the lake, Eric and Sharon took turns at the oars, both managing quite well, although they were happy to let me resume the duties for the remainder of our tour of the lake.  And as the photos attest, what a pristine and beautiful tour it was.   

From Apgar we drove to White Fish.  White Fish had not been on our original itinerary, but we decided to check it out based on favorable reports.  It did not disappoint.  We parked in the heart of town, then walked around window shopping and looking for a place to eat.  We eventually settled on The Craggy Range Bar & Grill, http://www.thecraggyrange.com/, where we dined outside.  The food was good, but the ambiance outside left a bit to be desired being rather hot and noisy (see photos and menu).  Next we walked around town a bit more, checking out a few shops, in one of which Sharon bought some quilt fabric.  Then we headed to a nearby lake.  The hike there took longer than we’d figured, and the heat wearied Sharon and Eric.  Fortunately, there was a shady deck overlooking the lake, where we sat for spell and where Sharon and Eric were able to quench their thirsts with a bottles of water from the concession stand.  Then we hiked back to town.

Back in White Fish, we got back on the road, and after initially heading the wrong way, north, on U.S. 93, we got our bearings corrected and headed south.  Our route was uncertain, but it any event it took us through the town of Kalispell.  And the only thing that will be remembered about this town is getting rear-ended by a 2012 Honda Civic driven by local resident Kailey Hofstee.  Ms. Hofstee was very distraught and apologetic, so I tried to calm her down.  I also got her insurance information, and Eric took some photos.  Since the damage to the Jeep was relatively minor (a dent in right rear corner), we just drove off afterward.

The route we settled upon took us around Flathead Lake.  It was a meandering but scenic course.  We stopped once to see if a roadside seller of cherries was also selling cherry cider (he wasn’t but said it sounded like a good idea) and once to take a gander at the lake.  The town of Polson at the southern end of this huge lake looked interesting, and perhaps we should have stopped there, but we didn’t.  Instead, we continued on U.S. 93 until it hit Interstate 90 a few miles west of Missoula.  Missoula is a university town, and in fact Eric has a friend who went there.  And again perhaps we should have stopped, but again we kept on going.

Interstate 90 from Missoula to Butte is 118 miles, and it is a barren stretch of the road.  Normally that might have been nice, but not when the gas tank is getting low and the next exit is 40 miles away, and for all we knew, it may not have had a gas station.  With the needle on “E” we reached the next exit, a small town called Drummond about halfway between Missoula and Butte.  They had gas.  And as was typical, while I filled up the tank, Sharon and Eric went inside to buy things, mostly food and beverages.

Our next stop was Butte, where we had reservations at the Quality Inn.  I had neglected to find out where this hotel was located or record its address (2100 Cornell Ave.), and since we didn’t get cell reception in the area, we were flying blind.  None the less we found the place with no trouble.  It was one of our nicer hotels on the trip, and at $86.05 the second cheapest.  That I suppose is one of the advantages of living in Butte.  We didn’t, however, run across many others.  After checking into our room, we headed right back out to look for a place to have dinner.  It was a little before dusk at the time.  We drove to the other end of town, but couldn’t find an appealing place to eat.  So we bought beer and headed back toward the hotel.  A little ways past our hotel, in a somewhat seedy part of town, we found a Domino’s Pizza and stopped to get pizza and wings to go.

While we wandered around outside Domino’s waiting for our pizza, we were struck by something glowing in the night sky above the mountains east of us.  But we couldn’t make out what it was.  I thought that perhaps it was a crescent-shaped moon that was partially obstructed.  After some research, however, I now believe it was the 90-foot statue called “Our Lady of the Rockies,” which sits on the Continental Divide overlooking Butte.

Back in the hotel we ate, drank, and watched TV.

We enjoyed an excellent breakfast at the Butte Quality Inn.  And I would have liked to have gotten on the road soon thereafter since we had a busy day planned; however, I had to report the auto accident to both Progressive Insurance Co. and then National Car Rental.  That took about an hour.

Before leaving town, we stopped at a nearby Walgrens drug store for supplies.  While in the parking lot, I received a call from the claims adjuster at Progressive.  That was quick.  He wanted to take my recorded statement.  I told him it was not a good time, and he shouldn’t need one any way since the facts were clear cut.  Then we finally got on the road, taking Interstate 15 to U.S. 287.  The route was mostly desolate, but we did pass through the inviting town of Ennis, Montana, and decided to check it out.  We walked down Main Street, visiting a couple of shops along the way.  The only thing we ended up buying was a baseball cap for Sharon on which the number “406” was stitched.  We asked the clerk what “406” stood for.  She said it was the area code of Ennis.

Back on U.S. 287, we soon came to a fork in road at the juncture with Montana 87.  It appeared that either way was about the same distance to West Yellowstone, and I debated which way to go.  First telling Sharon to turn around and take Montana 87 since it seemed more remote, but then we spotted a “Construction Ahead” sign, and given our small gas tank and the scarcity of gas stations in the area, I changed my mind.  We continued on U.S. 287.

The route taken proved to be a memorable one as we soon came upon a lake with a bunch of dead trees sticking out of it.  We stopped to have a look and found out that the area and been the site of the Hebgen Lake earthquake aka the 1959 Yellowstone earthquake.  Where now stood a lake, had once been the Rock Creek Campground, which about midnight on August 17, 1959, got buried in an avalanche, resulting in the death of about 25 people at the campground.  Eerie stuff. You can read all about it at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1959_Hebgen_Lake_earthquake

Soon after filling the gas tank at a tiny out-of-the-way gas station along the banks of Lake Hebgen, we turned on to U.S. 191 South en route to the West Yellowstone entrance to the famed park.  At the entrance, we asked the attendant if we could buy an $80 yearly pass and receive a $30 credit for the daily pass we bought in Glacier National Park.  To our surprise, the park attendant agreed.  We bought our pass and entered Yellowstone National Park, which at this point is in Montana, but only for about two miles until you’re in Wyoming.

Once in Yellowstone, we stopped here and there, along with a multitude of other visitors, to gaze at wildlife and some of the park’s many geothermal marvels.  We eventually reached the Old Faithful Historic District, which as the name suggests is where you’ll find the legendary geyser.  We parked and headed toward the geyser, where along with a couple of thousand other folks, we waited for Old Faithful to blow.  Although it took a while, the geyser delivered.  I’d been to the site twice before, in 1979 with Jeff and 2007 with my folks and John and Donna.  In 1979 we didn’t wait around for Old Faithful to blow, and in 2007 we viewed it at nighttime from the Old Faithful Inn, so it wasn’t nearly as impressive as it was this time.

Afterward, we hiked to the Old Faithful Inn and checked out their gift shop and then returned to the Jeep and motored away.  Traffic to this point had been quite heavy, but for whatever reason, from here south, there were few other vehicles on the road.  And that was nice. 

We made two more stops before leaving Yellowstone, the first at West Thumb Geyser Basin.  I’d visited the spot on my 2007 journey through the park and found it impressive, so I figured Sharon and Eric would like it too.  The area is alongside Yellowstone Lake and filled with phosphorescent pools of hypnotic blue and green water.  The last stop, a brief one, was at Lewis Falls, where Eric climbed out to a boulder in front of the falls.  He no doubt had a good view.

Continuing south on U.S. 191, we came to the check point to the Grand Teton National Park, where traffic for some reason was at a standstill.  By the time we got to the front of the line, they just waived us through.  My plan was try to find the lodge where John Baker had taken us during my 2007 visit.  The problem was I couldn’t remember the name of the place, although as we drove by the Jackson Lake Lodge, I was pretty sure that wasn’t it.  Then I thought maybe I should check it out just in case.  And sure enough, it was the place.  We had an enjoyable time there, dining al fresco at the Blue Heron Lounge with a view that would be hard to beat.  The food was darn good too.  Then we checked out the gift shop, buying a couple of souvenirs, and walked around taking a raft of pictures of the Tetons and wildlife.  As it neared dusk, we got back on the road in route to our lodging at the Anvil Inn in Jackson, Wyoming.

I had made this run numerous times before, once in 2007, and many more in 1979, so it brought back lots of memories.  It was also longer than I recalled.  We rolled into Jackson a little after dusk, found the Anvil, and checked in.  Then we headed out to explore Jackson.  This of course was Sharon’s and Eric’s first time there, so it was neat to see it through their eyes.  The town square in the heart of Jackson looked much as it did in 1979, although it was more high-end and busier.  We were all quite hungry, so our first order of business was to find a restaurant.  Much to our surprise, none of the many wonderful looking restaurants we stumbled upon were open after 10 PM.  And it was after 10 PM.  That is none but the Snake River Brewing Brewpub, http://www.snakeriverbrewing.com, a few blocks from the heart of town.  So that’s where we ate.  Our dining experience suffered because it was such a rushed affair.  Their kitchen was about to close a few minutes after our arrival, so we had to order fast.

Then we returned to town and walked around some more looking for a place to have a drink.  Our heart had been set on the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar, but they had a $5 cover charge, which seemed high since we planned on having only one beer.  So we ended up going to the joint next door called the Local Bar and Restaurant.  The joint was jam-packed with young folk, but we managed to get a seat at the bar and ordered a round of drafts.  Eric then went off to circulate.  Oddly, within minutes of sitting at the bar, the place began to empty, until we were the only ones left.  We joked with the bartender about us old farts chasing everyone off.  He played along, saying that normally the crowd stayed much later, but because of us, everyone went elsewhere.  Soon so too did we, namely, back to the Anvil Inn to watch TV and drink some beers.

The continental breakfast at the Anvil was even more unappealing than the one at the Apgar Inn.  So we didn’t partake of it.  Instead we each grabbed a shower, and I loaded up the cooler with ice and knocked out 200 pushups in 3 sets.  Then we asked the woman at the front desk if we could leave our car in their lot while we hiked around town.  She said it would be no problem.

The Jackson Hole Farmers Market was in full gear upon our arrival.  Stalls selling local produce, cheese, pies, and such stuff, encircled the town square, with hordes of people shopping and milling about.  We checked out a few stalls and then searched in earnest for the shop we’d spotted the night before that had a very becoming woman’s shirt in the display window.  I was pretty sure it was on East Broadway along the Square.  But we couldn’t find the shop, not there, not anywhere.  So we visited several others, as well as the local Starbucks for some lattes.  I ended buying a shirt at the Wyoming Outfitters, and would later wish I’d bought a “Jackson Hole” baseball cap at the store attached to the Starbucks.  (I found one like it online, which I may get yet.)

We were all pretty hungry by this point, so it was time to pay a visit to that most famous of Jackson Hole establishments—the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar http://www.milliondollarcowboybar.com/.  So we moseyed on in and took a seat, er a saddle that is, at the famous bar with the same lacquered paintings that have been hanging there since the 1930s.  I ordered some burgers from the kitchen, and Sharon ordered bottles of Million Dollar Cowboy Bar Beer from the bartender.  It was all good, although after a while I think Sharon switched to sitting side-saddle (there’s a tongue twister for you).

After lunch we walked around town a bit more but soon headed back to the Anvil Inn, got in the car, and road out of town.  We had a lot of ground to cover this day, 350 miles; consequently, we pretty much drove continuously until we reached our destination of Craig, Colorado, about 7 or 8 PM.  Sharon started out at the wheel, taking U.S. 191 South.  We stopped in Pinedale, Wyoming, for gas, and soon afterward she got sleepy and I took over for the rest of the way to Craig.

U.S. 191 runs across the desolate high plains of Wyoming with nary a car in sight for long, forlorn stretches.  And what with Sharon and Eric asleep for much of the way, it made for a lonesome passage.  The town of Rock Springs, Wyoming, is at the crossroads of U.S. 191 and Interstate 80, and we detoured through town looking for the “Historic Area” should it be worth checking out.   It wasn’t, so we hopped on Interstate 80 West and continued driving.  The scenery remained much the same, although this being an Interstate there were of course many more vehicles.  We stopped in the incredibly windy and deserted town of Wamsutter, Wyoming.  The gas station was unattended, but the pumps worked, which was reassuring because we were running low.  As it turned out, it didn’t matter because there was a another station nearby called Love’s Travel Stops, where we bought some drinks.  Had we wanted a large screen TV or fashion accessories or any number of other things, we could have purchased them too at this crazy station in Wamsutter.

I existed Interstate 80 soon after and headed south on WY Route 789.  Near the Colorado border is a tiny hamlet called Baggs, population 440, elevation 6,245.  I suppose Baggs is much like lots of other little backwater towns in the west, but I liked this one and wished I stopped if for no other reason than to take a photo to post on Wikipedia.  I don’t recall if we saw any redneck billboards in Baggs, but they could be found throughout these parts.  Shocking stuff to our sophisticated eastern sensibilities.  Stuff purporting that President Obama was subhuman and similar sentiments.

A little further on we crossed into Colorado.  The route name changed to CO Route 13, but initially at least, the landscape remained the same.  A few miles north of Craig at Milemarkers 104-98, we encountered road construction, with only one lane for a six-mile stretch http://www.cotrip.org/map.htm#/default?RoadWorkAlertId=236908.  Traffic in alternating directions was taken through the span by a pilot car.  So we waited about 15 minutes for our turn, which would have been longer had we gotten there sooner and shorter had we gotten there later.  Shortly after we rolled into town, figured out where the Traveler Inn was, and checked in.  Our lodging here was cheapest place we stayed the whole trip, and given that it was in Craig and not that nice, that was no surprise.  Even so, $65.45 was pretty reasonable.  The motel was run by an Asian family, who contacted us hours before to see if we were going to keep our reservation.  Sharon had a very hard time understanding the lady but assured her we were.  When I checked in, it became clear why Sharon couldn’t understand the lady because neither could I.

After settling into our room, and saying adieu to our cooler, which had developed a leak, we drove into town for supplies and dinner.  Our first stop was at a Walmart, then a liquor store called Loadout Liquors, which had the ambiance and clientele you’d expect at a place called Loadout Liquors.  The toothless clerk at the liquor store didn’t card Eric, saying “I guess he’s legal if he’s with you.”  He did, however, rip him off by about $5 for his wine and champagne.  Sharon asked about local restaurants.  Villartas was recommended.  So we drove all over town looking for Villartas, finally found it, and ate there.  As the name would suggest, it was a Mexican restaurant, which was fine, but it was in a deserted mall, which was less than fine.  The food was good, but we got way too much of it with no way to preserve any, which was wasteful.  Perhaps we should have looked for other dining options, but Craig, Colorado, hardly seemed like a cuisine Mecca.

Back at the Traveler Inn we drank the beverages we scored from Loadout Liquors, which included a six-pack of Carta Blanca.  

Once again the motel offerings for breakfast were unappealing.  So we passed on it.  After our morning showers, etc., we loaded up the car, sans Styrofoam cooler, and got on the road, taking Colorado Rt. 13 South.  Our first stop was in the town of Rifle, where we gassed up and got on Interstate 70 West.  From there we drove to Grand Junction, a much bigger town than most in this region (metro pop. about 150,000), and hopped on U.S. 50. 

Driving through the quaint town of Montrose, we decided to stop to look around and find a place to eat.  Likely because it was Sunday, the town was nearly deserted and the most of the shops along Main Street were closed.  One that wasn’t, however, was the Great Outdoor Company, so we paid it a visit.  They had nice and mostly expensive camping equipment and outdoor clothes.  Eric bought a camper’s wine glass that was pretty cool, and seeing how he preferred wine to beer, it was likely to come in handy.  Down the road from the Great Outdoor Company, I spotted what looked like a neat restaurant, or maybe it was an abandoned warehouse.  It was hard to tell, so we investigated.  It was, in fact, a brew pub called Two Rascals Brewing Co., that sometimes served food.  Today, as we learned from the obliging locals inside, was not one of those days.  So we said adieu and around the corner found the Backstreet Bagel Company, where Eric got a sweet roll and Sharon and I split a chicken salad sandwich.

Near Montrose is Black Canyon National Park.  We considered visiting, but it was in the wrong direction and too far off, we figured, given all we had planned for the day.  So instead, we left Montrose via U.S. 550, aka The Million Dollar Highway (which more accurately is the stretch of U.S. 550 from Ouray to Silverton).  The character of the countryside for most of the day had been vastly more varied, mountainous, and interesting that what we encountered the day before.  But we knew we were just getting started—the best was yet to come.  As we approached the town of Ouray, nestled in the Rocky Mountains, a light rain began to fall.  This was not welcome given that the road south from Ouray is not for the feint-hearted even it good weather.  It climbs steeply by way of switchbacks that hug the side of the mountains with foreboding cliff and no guard rail and no shoulder to speak of.  We didn’t need to add slick roads to the mix, but nature did anyway.  After a particularly thrilling stretch we pulled over and took some photos, and then continued on the Million Dollar Highway through some of the most awesome, in the true sense of the word, landscape there is.

We made several stops along the Million Dollar Highway as it wound through San Juan Mountains between Ouray and Silverton, one more spectacular than the next.  Two of note were the abandoned Idarado mine trestle near Red Mountain Pass, elevation 11,018 ft., and Molas Pass, elevation 10,970 ft., which features a panorama with lakes, passes, mountains, and in our case a group of bikers having their own look-see.  After going up for mile after mile, we eventually started back down.  During the long descent we drove right past the exit for Silverton.  I knew nothing about the place but decided we should turn around and check out the town.  It was a good move for Silverton, Colorado, along with Bozeman, White Fish, and Jackson, was one of the great towns we would visit (and soon Durango would join the list).  The town looked like the stage set to a western movie and probably had been on many occasions.  And unlike in Montrose, most all the shops and restaurants were open. One of those shops was the Ye Olde Livery Coach (see what I mean about the Old West connection).  It was quite a store, stuffed full of unusual jewelry, statuary, and knick-knacks.  Eric bought a carved wooden sculpture of a wolf inside another wolf; I got a sculpture of a colorful beetle encased in clear acrylic; and Sharon purchased some stunning earrings.  Quite a haul.  Then we moseyed through town trying to decide where to have a beer among the many alluring establishments.  We ended up selecting the Pickle Barrel, http://www.thepicklebarrel.com/, where in the back was a cozy and empty bar where we greatly enjoyed a cold mug of an excellent local ale and played darts.  For the record, it was a close match, but I bested Eric.  Our last stop in Silverton was at Eric’s behest to visit one of those shops with the green cross hanging over the door.  If you’ve been to Colorado recently, you may know what they sell, and what Eric purchased as I looked on and Sharon waited outside.  Afterward, we headed back to car and got on the road en route to Durango.  The soft rain that fell at the beginning of our trek along the Million Dollar Highway and stopped soon after had now returned.  This led to two memorable events.  One was the erratic handling of the Jeep on the wet roadway, which obviously was a cause of concern.  The other was a brilliant double rainbow.

There are of course many websites with more information about and photos of the Million Dollar Highway, here’s one http://www.roadtripamerica.com/forum/showthread.php?22123-Denver-through-Four-corners-loop/page5

We pulled into Durango early in the evening and found the Comfort Inn without much trouble.  It was about a mile outside town, and was the nicest place we stayed the entire trip.  Checking in was a bit of a hassle because they said my credit card wouldn’t accept the charge, so I had to put it on another card.  Soon after checking in, we headed back out to explore Durango.  We filled the gas tank and then parked in town.  Eric wanted to sample his purchase from Silverton, so Sharon and I walked ahead looking for a an appealing place to dine, of which there were many.  Once reunited with Eric, we settled on El Moro Spirits and Tavern, http://elmorotavern.com/.  It was a lovely restaurant with excellent service and delicious food, adding up to our best dining experience of the trip.  That steak was so good.  After El More, we continued with our night on the town, stopping first at the Office Spiratorium, http://strater.com/dining/office-spiritorium/, which is part of the famed Strater Hotel and where Eric ordered his first, and my first, absinthe.  It tasted like licorice.  Then we stopped at an underground lounge called Lady Falconburgh’s, https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lady-Falconburghs-Barley-Exchange/48769082452, which featured a slew of draft beers and a giant-sized Jenga game, which we played until it all came crashing down.  Then we called it a night in Durango and returned to the Comfort Inn, where I partook of some of Eric’s purchase.  That was some good stuff.  And legal.  After our return to the room, Sharon found me to be quite amusing in my addled state.

All in all, I would have to say that this day was the most memorable of the trip.

The complimentary breakfast offered at the Comfort Inn was as good as any on the trip, so we helped ourselves to it.  Then after our showers, we debated what to do on this day, our last of the trip before heading home.  I don’t recall all the choices but believe we considered horseback riding and whitewater rafting, but because of either the distance or the cost involved, they were rejected.  Ultimately, we decided to visit Mesa Verde National Park and then Four Corners, where Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona, and Utah all meet.

The drive to Mesa Verde, meaning “green table,” took only about 40 minutes, but once we got to the park we really had no idea what to do there.  We went into the visitor center, https://www.nps.gov/meve/index.htm, to see what the deal was.  There was a long line for tours, so we stood in it.  What we found out was that they offered many tour packages that visited one or more of the park’s numerous archeological sites, most notably Ancestral Pueblo cliff dwellings.  We had no idea which one or ones to visit, but it didn’t much matter as far as selecting a tour because the next available one wasn’t until 4 PM (or was it 5 PM?).  Anyway, we weren’t going to wait around four hour to take a pricey bus ride to see what we could see now, on our own, and for free.  So after Sharon bought a beautiful blue & green “2016 National Park Service Centennial” tee shirt in the gift shop, we got in the car and headed off to explore Mesa Verde.

The drive through the park took us up and up, and yes, it was a little bit hairy.  Our first stop was Park Point Overlook, where we parked, walked a few hundred feet, and were greeted by a vast panorama of the surrounding countryside featuring mountain ranges way out yonder in all directions.  Then we walked to the other side of the Overlook, which beheld more of the same.  Truly a magnificent view.  Back on the road, we took the Chapin Mesa spur, which leads to Cliff Palace among other Pueblo cliff dwellings.  We stopped first at Spruce Tree House and started walking down the trail toward the ruins, but the trail was closed after a few hundred yards, which was just as good since we had no water and it mighty hot.  Then we took the Cliff Palace Loop to Cliff Palace and again parked to have a look around.  The cliff dwellings here are not visible from the trail; only after reaching a platform, do you get a clear view of them.  The dwellings are in amazingly good condition given their age.  Looking at them, I tried to imagine what life must have been like for those who lived in there.  I senses that it would have been a very public, dusty, and hard life. 

That was pretty much the end of our visit to Mesa Verde except for driving down the loops and switchbacks we’d ascended on our way in.  The next stop was Four Corners, about an hour’s drive from park with little other than the town of Cortez in between.  We planned to have lunch in Cortez but never found an inviting restaurant in that not-so-appealing town.  So we drove straight through. 

I had no great illusion about Four Corners, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four_Corners_Monument.  I figured it would be some dusty site in the middle of nowhere with a few Native American kiosks selling baubles.  And it turned out to be pretty much just that.  We paid $20 to enter to find a few hundred tourists milling about, almost as many Navajos selling stuff in kiosks that surround the perimeter, and in front of that famed point, a line of people waiting to get their picture taken in four states at once.  Of course Sharon and I got in the line and waited our turn while Eric wandered about.  The line wasn’t all that long, 30 to 40 people, but it moved slowly.  During our wait, however, we did witness one of the strangest sights either of us had ever beheld.  A man and women who’d reached the spot got in this absolutely bizarre position, where the frump- 50ish-looking woman bent over putting her head squarely into the similarly frump- 50ish-looking man’s gut, while he bent over her back.  It looked to all the world like she was simulating a blow job, while he was simulating an ass lick.  And they held this pose forever, or so it seemed. 

Finally, we reached the front of the line, at which time Eric joined us, and we took pics of each of us standing in four states at once.  Lawdy, was that cool!!!

After Sharon bought a Christmas ornament and she and Eric got drinks, we started back to Durango.  It rained off and on during the ride, hard at times.  What made that memorable was how the Jeep handled in the rain.  As it did coming down U.S. 550, the car would momentarily lose control, which was unnerving to say the least.  For days a warning light, showing an icon of a car skidding, had been on.  We finally decided to check the Jeep’s manual to see what it meant.  Turns out it was the “ESC (electronic stability control) Activation/Malfunction Indicator Light,” which according to the manual, “[if it] comes on continuously with the engine running, a malfunction has been detected in the ESC system.  If this light remains on after several ignition cycles, and the vehicle has been driven several miles at speeds greater than 30 mph, see your authorized dealer as soon as possible.”  It had been on for days, maybe since the accident or possibly since we rented the car.  Hum?  Who knows what danger we escaped.

Back in Durango, we stopped at the San Juan Coffee Company (aka Durango Coffee Company) http://www.cooksandcoffee.com/ for a great cup of coffee.  Eric vanished for a bit afterward, no doubt to find one of those places with the green crosses to transact some legal business.  Meanwhile, Sharon and I hiked around town shopping and looking for a place to eat.  During our perambulations, we stepped into a sports goods store, where a pair of Avolo Agent hiking shoes caught my eye.  I tried them on, and they looked and felt great.  But at $175, I couldn’t pull the trigger.  Maybe another time.  We resumed our search for an eatery in which have our last dinner of the trip and settled on the Carver Brewing Company, http://carverbrewing.com/.  I was mostly sold on the fact that they made their own brews, but neither my draft nor my dinner was anything to rave about. 

After dinner, we walked through Durango one last time, stopping at Maria’s bookshop, http://www.mariasbookshop.com/, where Eric bought a diary, and Sharon bought him a copy of Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse.  Then we headed back to the Comfort Inn.  Sadly, all but for the long flights back home, our trip had come to an end.

The final day of this trip, as with many others, is about going through the motions of getting home, about rental returns and airports and delays and stuff of that nature.  And that’s pretty much how it went.  We ate a nice breakfast at the Comfort Inn, then packed and headed to the quaint Durango Airport, where we returned the car, cleared security, and waited for our flight to Phoenix.  We had a schedule two-hour layover in Phoenix, to which was added about a one-hour unscheduled delay.  During our wait we ate lunch at Four Peaks Brewery, http://www.fourpeaks.com/our-pubs/, in the airport.  The place had exceptional burgers, and the beer was pretty darn good too. 

Finally we caught our 4.5-hour flight home, and what with the 3 hour time difference, we didn’t get into Philly until about 10:30 PM, which was about the exact same time Becky got in from New Orleans with Casey and her mom, Karen.  We met up with Becky in the baggage area and waited about a half-hour outside the terminal for Travis and Daytona to arrive in the Honda Pilot to take us all home.  While waiting, I tried get in as many steps as I could, but it wasn’t enough—my extended streak of over 10,000 (actually 11,000) steps a day came to an end.  And so too did our trip.

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