Getting up in Goodland gave us another seven hours to drive before we reached our destination, but another 90 minutes or so over I-70 in Kansas and Colorado. Although I complain about the boring drive, I must give some credit for at least a little nice scenery.
The wind farms that dot the landscape in western Kansas and eastern Colorado loom on the horizon like skinny, white trees. We can see them from a distance of several miles, standing there, silent, ethereal, arms waving gently through a breeze we cannot feel. As we approach, they grow larger and appear more like sentinels for travelers, watching over them and the highway. And then we pass them, and they are gigantic windmills, of a size that is hard to imagine, humongous blades turning sometimes swiftly, sometimes slowly, sometimes not at all. Somehow, though, they offer a sort of comfort, and they give us something to look at besides the flat Kansas countryside.
On this trip, too, we have noticed several fields of corn that seem to have withered and died for some reason. The stalks are green, and the sheathed corn is visible, but the scanty leaves are curled and shapeless; I imagine that some farmer has lost a great deal on those fields this year.
We finally reached Limon and turned south toward Colorado Springs. Instead of driving on an interstate highway, we then were on an old-fashioned two-way, two lane highway, driving by farms with piles of junk in the fields - rusting equipment and trucks, "stuff," falling down pens for unseen animals.
Eventually, we reached Colorado Springs and began the first final leg of our trip toward Crested Butte. We found that we would be arriving in Cañon City around lunchtime, and so I once again called up Trip Advisor to find a place to eat good food. The first place we looked was Burger World, but when we approached, the place was very crowded, which probably means it is very good, and it looked as if we would have to eat outside. We didn't want to do that, and so our second choice was Muggs, which was a combination sports bar and cafe. The food was all right, but I would choose another place should I ever again find myself in Cañon City.
What we did discover was that we were at the home of the Royal Gorge. I had no idea. This is why I should always ask Kevin Schroeder to plan our trips. He finds everything interesting on the way to a particular location and then plots the path toward them all. We had already missed Pike's Peak because we hadn't thought about it ahead of time, and by the time we decided, "Hey! It might be nice to go see Pike's Peak," we found it to be a hour and a half away. Neither of us wanted to add that much time to our trip, so we said, "Next time."
I wanted, however, to see the Royal Gorge, and because it was on the way to Crested Butte, we wouldn't really lose any time. As we made our way up the lane that led to the visitor center, I was preparing myself to walk across the bridge spanning the Gorge. An unfortunate acrophobic, I thought I could probably do it if I set my mind to it.
But when we got there, we found out that admission was $27 per person, and that was the only way to walk across the bridge, see the educational film, ride the gondola, and get a tour. We looked at each other and said, "Next time." I usually am a pretty good planner, but this time, I did not plan well at all. I must make a note to myself for our next trip.
We made our way back to the car and began the real final leg of our trip to Crested Butte. Our hosts would not be arriving until late that night, and so Max and I would have time to kill once we got to the house.
After unloading the car, we went to downtown Crested Butte and were charmed by the old-fashioned looking, artsy town. We strolled up and down the main drag, looking for a place to eat some dinner and have a cocktail and finally settled on Montanya (Trip Advisor's number 1 rated restaurant in town), which is a rum distillery and small plates restaurant. Because the weather was nothing short of perfect, we were able to eat outside and watch the parade of tourists and locals while paying attention to a beautiful border collie waiting patiently for his mom and dad to finish eating and take him on his way.
As for the food, I had never had an Old Fashioned made with anything but bourbon, but an Old Fashioned made with Montanya's rum was just as good. Max had a rum Manhattan, and pronounced it as delicious as the ones made with bourbon we usually have in Little Rock at the Capitol Bar and Grill. We ate some house-made potato chips and shared a ramen noodle bowl with miso broth, fresh enoki mushrooms, and baby bok choy. It was perfect on a perfect evening - not too heavy, but enough food to satisfy, and enough cocktail to bring a long travel day to a perfect, relaxing end.
The wind farms that dot the landscape in western Kansas and eastern Colorado loom on the horizon like skinny, white trees. We can see them from a distance of several miles, standing there, silent, ethereal, arms waving gently through a breeze we cannot feel. As we approach, they grow larger and appear more like sentinels for travelers, watching over them and the highway. And then we pass them, and they are gigantic windmills, of a size that is hard to imagine, humongous blades turning sometimes swiftly, sometimes slowly, sometimes not at all. Somehow, though, they offer a sort of comfort, and they give us something to look at besides the flat Kansas countryside.
On this trip, too, we have noticed several fields of corn that seem to have withered and died for some reason. The stalks are green, and the sheathed corn is visible, but the scanty leaves are curled and shapeless; I imagine that some farmer has lost a great deal on those fields this year.
We finally reached Limon and turned south toward Colorado Springs. Instead of driving on an interstate highway, we then were on an old-fashioned two-way, two lane highway, driving by farms with piles of junk in the fields - rusting equipment and trucks, "stuff," falling down pens for unseen animals.
Eventually, we reached Colorado Springs and began the first final leg of our trip toward Crested Butte. We found that we would be arriving in Cañon City around lunchtime, and so I once again called up Trip Advisor to find a place to eat good food. The first place we looked was Burger World, but when we approached, the place was very crowded, which probably means it is very good, and it looked as if we would have to eat outside. We didn't want to do that, and so our second choice was Muggs, which was a combination sports bar and cafe. The food was all right, but I would choose another place should I ever again find myself in Cañon City.
What we did discover was that we were at the home of the Royal Gorge. I had no idea. This is why I should always ask Kevin Schroeder to plan our trips. He finds everything interesting on the way to a particular location and then plots the path toward them all. We had already missed Pike's Peak because we hadn't thought about it ahead of time, and by the time we decided, "Hey! It might be nice to go see Pike's Peak," we found it to be a hour and a half away. Neither of us wanted to add that much time to our trip, so we said, "Next time."
I wanted, however, to see the Royal Gorge, and because it was on the way to Crested Butte, we wouldn't really lose any time. As we made our way up the lane that led to the visitor center, I was preparing myself to walk across the bridge spanning the Gorge. An unfortunate acrophobic, I thought I could probably do it if I set my mind to it.
But when we got there, we found out that admission was $27 per person, and that was the only way to walk across the bridge, see the educational film, ride the gondola, and get a tour. We looked at each other and said, "Next time." I usually am a pretty good planner, but this time, I did not plan well at all. I must make a note to myself for our next trip.
We made our way back to the car and began the real final leg of our trip to Crested Butte. Our hosts would not be arriving until late that night, and so Max and I would have time to kill once we got to the house.
After unloading the car, we went to downtown Crested Butte and were charmed by the old-fashioned looking, artsy town. We strolled up and down the main drag, looking for a place to eat some dinner and have a cocktail and finally settled on Montanya (Trip Advisor's number 1 rated restaurant in town), which is a rum distillery and small plates restaurant. Because the weather was nothing short of perfect, we were able to eat outside and watch the parade of tourists and locals while paying attention to a beautiful border collie waiting patiently for his mom and dad to finish eating and take him on his way.
As for the food, I had never had an Old Fashioned made with anything but bourbon, but an Old Fashioned made with Montanya's rum was just as good. Max had a rum Manhattan, and pronounced it as delicious as the ones made with bourbon we usually have in Little Rock at the Capitol Bar and Grill. We ate some house-made potato chips and shared a ramen noodle bowl with miso broth, fresh enoki mushrooms, and baby bok choy. It was perfect on a perfect evening - not too heavy, but enough food to satisfy, and enough cocktail to bring a long travel day to a perfect, relaxing end.
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