Driven Like A Salmon

 

Greetings from the Chatfield State Park in Littleton, Colorado—yes, I made it!  And although my plan of traversing the passes between storms still had me driving through some snow, I am thankful I made the trek yesterday:  After almost 24 hours of (the glorious Colorado) sunshine, we are now sitting here watching another, larger storm roll in from the north; I believe it is the one that caused so much trouble up in Wyoming.

For the drive from Palisade to Littleton, I had planned on lunching at Sylvan Lake State Park just outside of Eagle.  I had been there before, many years ago, and remembered how pretty it was but I had mixed feelings; drive days of more than 200 miles always make me antsy to just get it done, particularly with a snow storm ahead. 

Such was the debate in my head as I took the Noses on their morning constitutional.  On the way back to Beagle, Opus stopped and looked up at a tree.  Then he sat in front of me, looked me in the eye and then back up at the tree.  Twice.  I decided to look up at the tree.  There sat two of the largest Eagles I have ever seen, together, but one branch apart.  They were gorgeous.  Naturally, I did not have my phone with me but I did take it as a sign that I should go to Eagle.  (Only a little sarcasm there.)

Although I adore Colorado, there are only a few towns that I enjoy. Most of towns are too western for my taste, too ramshackle looking with their wooden structures, and Aspen, Vail, and, sadly, Telluride are like Orange County with an excuse to wear mink.  Not my kind of places.  But Eagle?  I love Eagle.  It is a town of understated elegance; I felt that way ten years ago and it is much the same today (much more expensive and many more houses but they are doing a nice job of community planning.)

And so we turned off the interstate at Eagle to make our way to Sylvan Lake.   The road quickly turned into a narrow, two-lane road with many miles still to go but I had been up there in Salt so I knew I could make it.  Then it started snowing.  After a few miles of that particular experience, Life offered me a paved turn-out with a matching one on the other side of the road; I could pull off and easily turn around. 

Which I did.

And then I did again.

I really wanted to see that lake.

Five more miles go by and Life presents me with the Visitor’s Center up on the left; nice big parking lot, lots of places to turn around.  I drove right by; six miles to the lake, the sign said.

What the sign didn’t say (and what I had clearly forgotten) was that it was a dirt road and, after the last storm, plenty muddy. 

After about a quarter mile, Life offered me a pull-off spot, large enough to turn around.

Which I did.

And then I did again.

Despite it now being 24 degrees with a light snow, I really wanted to see that lake.

About a mile up the muddy road, Life offered me a day-use area, a picnic site with a large, empty parking lot and a lovely meadow with a creek flowing through it.

At that point I remembered an old joke:  A preacher was stuck in the middle of some kind of natural disaster; his neighbor stopped by to help him, he declined saying, “God will save me.”  Time goes by and soon a fireman offers to rescue him, he declined, saying, “God will save me.”  More time goes by and the National Guard tries to rescue him, he declined again, saying, “God will save me.”

Then he dies.  When he gets to heaven he asks God, “Why didn’t you save me?”  And God replies, “I sent you a neighbor, a fireman and the National Guard.”

I turned into the day use area.

No one was around so I let the Noses leap out of the car untethered and we three ran through the meadow in the snow.  River was in rare form with circles and flopping paws and Opus was in heaven; his feet rarely touching the ground, making excuses to jump over small bushes looking like Mighty Dog.  We had a blast despite the snow and bitterly cold wind.  After about twenty minutes, we were all happy to hop back into the car (yes, Opus jumped right in.)

Back on Interstate 70, we hit a bunch more snow at Vail pass (elevation 10,600’) but there were plenty of cars on the road to keep the asphalt warm and, apparently, plenty of salt on the roads as well.  By the time we pulled into Chatfield, we looked like we had been sprayed all over with a white paste.  Nothing worse than winter road salt blanketing my beloved Beagle.

Although I am here for five nights, I have to move twice.  I was only in my pitch last night for the one night so I held off trying to get Beagle washed.  I did wash her windows but then I almost always do that when I arrive somewhere.  (I think there must be a chat room somewhere where non-Airstream RV owners laugh about how quickly Airstreamers wash their windows after parking.  What can we say?  We have awesome wrap-around windows and its not any fun to look through dirt and bugs.)

This morning I hitched up and took Beagle to a car wash where I found a bay large enough to fit both Wurzig and Beagle with hoses long enough to wash them both.  It was divine.  And yes, I know we are about to get inundated with rain (down here at 5,280’) but I had to get that salt off.  My fellow Airstreamers will understand.

This is a lovely park with well-spaced pitches and great walking trails along the lake.  Long walks helped me sort out why I was impelled to come here this year.  It was worth it.

Unless some dramatic, comedic or divine experience happens between now and Monday, this will likely be my last post for this trip.  I have a busy weekend filled with great friends and Monday will begin my drive back to Morro Bay.  I will not be camping along the way; it is a drive just to get home and for that, an easy in- easy out- hotel room is much my preference.

-K

PS:  Plenty of sunshine next week so passing back over the passes should not a problem.  That’s for you, Mobom.