Rocky Mountain High.........

The plan last fall was to drive on 70 into Colorado, but early snow in the passes made us change our plans, so I was anxious to do it this time.  Despite several people assuring  us that we would be ok, Clem was still nervous, and the situation was not aided by the "girl in the dash" constantly telling us to make a right turn on the next exit!  I told him to ignore her, and enjoy the scenery, that we knew where we wanted to go, and it was not on Rt. 80!  The scenery was spectacular, and it is obvious why they call the mountains the Rockies.  We had hoped to stop in Glenwood Springs to see the springs, take a gondola ride, and also to see the grave of Doc Holliday, but the surrounding campgrounds were not very desirable, and Clem simply could not understand why I might want to see the grave, so the decision was made to catch it  next time.  There are also a couple of old  mining towns much like Golden, and a scenic rail trip, so it gives us much to look forward to .  And I WILL fit in Doc's grave sight!

We did stop for lunch in Glenwood Canyon, where I posted a photo by cell phone, and found the lovely spot by the Colorado River and the story of how the canyon became a part of the Rt. 70 corridor. They have created  an amazing layered system of roadway that had us coming around a bend to see the greenery below as if we were flying in air, and the other lane well below and seemingly disappearing beneath us on the other side!  An amazing engineering feat that took two years to complete.

It was neat to pass by the ski areas that we hear so much about, but they took us to nearly 10,000 feet, and the diesel was challenged, as most of the trucks were.  A few managed to pass by, and I told Clem I wanted one of those engines! The landscape changed from beautiful mountains and trees to dessert, and occasional outcroppings of the beautiful red rock that is so stunning, until we approached Utah.  From there it became pretty flat and open, unlike the area of red rocks we had seen farther south in Arches in the fall.  The cool relief we finally experienced in  the morning air in Colorado turned to hot, dry and dusty in Utah where we are camped for the night, though as I write this it has cooled.

                                           

We are spending the night in the town of Green River,  and we went to a museum across the street after setting up, which tells the story of a man named Powell who was the first to map the Green  and Colorado Rivers by traveling down them by boat all the way through the Grand Canyon, shooting the rapids in a rowboat!  Interesting story of a very dedicated individual.  There are 4 hotels in this little town that apparently serve the folks visiting the parks to the south, and those seeking fun on the rivers.  
 The town is also known for its "world famous" melons!

The campground owner is from Vermont, and the man who led us to our sight is from Connecticut, and I have to wonder why they would leave those verdant places for this hot dusty brown land!   The other thing I started to ponder as we had dinner at the local restaurant, is living in a town this small, population 950.    I had asked a waitress in a small town in Missouri what she intended to do after college, and she said she would stay.  It brought to mind the song my sister Kathy had suggested I sing to Clem in Indiana as we drove through and I was at a loss.....Small Town, by John Mellencamp.  I now also remember the guy in the town of 24 who, when I asked why he had moved there said....listen.  do you hear that?  I don't hear anything, I replied.  Exactly, he said.  And that is the way I like it!