September 26, 2014: BLM Camping Near Salida, CO
Thankfully leafless Aspen trees are
few and far between today.
Road
trip! Some folks we met a couple of days
ago told us the fall colors are beautiful on Poncha Loop Road, so we decide to
take a look for ourselves. Into the Jeep
and onto SH50, we head west to Poncha Springs and hang a left on SH285 climbing
up and over Poncha Pass at an elevation 9,010 feet.
Just over
the pass, I miss the turn for Poncha Loop Road.
Several miles south we see a tiny green road sign that says WW50. That’s it!
I think it’s the south end of the loop, but it doesn’t make much
difference which side we enter on – it’s a loop, right?
Not a quarter of a mile up Poncha Loop Road these lovely orange and gold Aspens
greet us.
We wind our way down and around the rutted
single lane dirt road.
After a
few miles of not seeing many Aspens we finally emerge to higher ground with a
spectacular view of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains to the east. This is the northernmost reaches of the
mountain range. From here, the Sangre de
Cristos extend down through Colorado and into northern New Mexico.
You can see the patches of Aspens on the mountainsides.
After I
trudge through the sagebrush for a while seeking pictures of a few meager Aspen
trees, Jack suggests getting off the loop road and wandering down a spur road. Good idea.
Off we go – westward bound with mountainside Aspens in the distance.
Maybe
a mile down the road we pop over a ridge to view this hidden valley filled with
a grove of Aspens in their prime glistening in the sunshine.
The
road looks pretty good so we make our way slowly down the fairly steep grade.
Whoa! About three-quarters of the way
down a 2’ deep washed out gully presents a bit of an obstacle. There’s no going around it on either
side. Jack says we can straddle it.
Always the
way-too-cautious one I say, “What if our tire slides down into that deep,
narrow hole? You know we don’t have aggressive
tires on this Jeep. They’re highway
tires.”
Jack
replies, “That’s not going to happen. We’ll
be fine.”
Me again, “What
if we’re not fine? No one knows we’re
back in here. It’s at least a mile to
the loop road, and a few more miles back to 285. We didn’t meet a single vehicle since we
turned off 285. We’ll have to walk
several miles out of here. Then someone
will have to come back in here to pull us out of this blasted hole.”
Women's words. Men's words.
As we are all well aware, women have a daily vocalization of around 20,000 words. Men – around 7,000 words. Many far less than that. Anyway, Jack knows it’s a lost cause. I won’t stop talking until he shuts off the Jeep and we walk the rest of the way down the hill. In hindsight, he was probably right. But, it would have been a real drag if he wasn’t. At this point, it’ll have to remain one of those unanswered mysteries – forever unknown.
A
breeze comes up. Leaves drift from their
branches and flutter down around us like enormous golden snowflakes.
Retracing
our steps down the narrow lane, we make our way back uphill to the Jeep.
Jack puts the Jeep into 4WD. And up the hill he goes - BACKWARDS. Up, up, up to the top.
Back
on the main loop road we head north. Another
mile or more up the road we come to an intersection with a road heading west –
Road 878. In the distance a large Class
A motorhome is nestled in the trees. We
know for certain he did not get here via the south entrance to this loop. It was far too narrow, rough, and rutted. The upper entrance must be much better
maintained.
We
take a quick jaunt in the direction of the RV tucked in the Aspen grove. They are situated just beyond the fence in
the Rio Grande National Forest. What a
beautiful spot to camp for a few days.
Heading back east, it’s not long before we see SH285 below with the Sangre de
Cristos in the distance. This section of
the road is wider and very well maintained.
No problem getting even the longest motorhome up in here. And if you can snag that awesome camp spot
just inside the Rio Grande NF – all the better.
Back in Salida we pull in at a shop we’ve
noticed along SH50. Colorado Junque.
We’re
into junk or junque, so it looks like a fun place to check out.
Shoes
anyone? Snake skin, red, hot pink. Somehow I just can’t see myself wandering around
the campground in any of these. Guess I’ll
pass this time around. No junk/junque we
can’t live without so we’re out the door.
YARD SALE INSIDE. Inside?
The
sign next door catches my eye. What? Isn’t a yard sale outside – in the yard? Some items are outside, the good stuff is
kept inside a storage shed that’s also for sale.
These two
dudes have more useless crap than I’ve seen in one place in quite some time. You know the old saying, “One man’s junk is
another man’s treasure”. This place
could be called Treasure Island or something equally catchy.
I spend
some time chatting with the gent in charge of sales for the day. He’s reclining in his Lazyboy (probably also
for sale) with his dog, Sandy (definitely not for sale). My guess is he’s not working on commission as he
never budges from his comfy “office chair” to try to make a sale.
“Do you mind if I take a picture of you and
Sandy for my travel blog,” I ask.
“Blog? Heck, I
don’t mind,” he replies. “Long as I got
my clothes on. Not like those movie
stars with the naked pictures up in the “Cloud” somewhere.”
Ah. A man and his dog. Life is good and not too stressful here in
this lovely town of Salida, CO. I thank him for his time and the picture, and we're on the road again.
Hi-Altitude Cattle. Our final diversion before we reach our
campsite.
There’s
a cattle barn on the outskirts of town and an auction is in progress. We hang a quick left and come to a stop in the
parking lot – right in the mix with all the rancher trucks and trailers.
Inside, we
take our seats – careful not to pull our earlobe, scratch our neck, tilt our cap
“just so”, or anything else that may be interpreted as a full-fledged bid on a
bull. All we need is for the auctioneer
to say, “SOLD! To the man in the “Longhorn”
cap sitting next to the lady in the “Give Blood” cap."
Heck, we’d need a trailer on the back of the
Jeep to pull the bull around in all winter.
The
auctioneer jabbers on for a few minutes.
Suddenly his voice rises, “SOLD!
For $103.”
To no one
in particular I comment, “$103? Hmmm.”
The lady
in front of me turns around and says, “Per 100 pounds.”
“Oh,
thanks,” I say. “I knew it had to be per
something. I just wasn’t certain per what
since I don’t have a clue about the price of a bull.”
She points
above the door from whence the bull entered the arena. “See that number up there? 1865? That’s his weight.”
“Oh, I
see. Very interesting.” Okay, I’m thinking to myself. That’s 18.65 (# of 100 lbs) x $103 (per 100 lbs) =
$1,920.95 equals one big bull.
There sure are a lot of cowboy hats and whiskers
in these here parts.
But, before we leave we stop by to say "hey" to the cattle.
Hey dude. Here's hoping you're heading for a pasture full of new girlfriends and not the
slaughter house. Good luck with that.
Hey there girl. I see you're a boney, scrawny ol' longhorn and probably have tough-as-jerky meat. Thankfully, no one will ever want to butcher you or your youngin'. Best wishes on your new home on the range here in Colorful Colorado. Have a great life.
By the way, did I ever mention that we had a longhorn cow on our place down in Texas by the name of Belle Starr? Wow! Now there’s a rather lengthy story of a cow we managed to come away with our lives with after only a couple of weeks longhorn ownership. Until next time – be safe.
“The
single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken
place.” ~~ George Bernard Shaw
Don’t
leave me dangling in blogland with only the illusion that I have communicated
with you. Respond! Tell me what’s on your mind.
