Chapter 7 – Of Summits and Stones
Alamosa, CO, to Montrose, CO.
I awoke first, as usual, and headed to the van to inspect our situation. What I found was spellbinding. Alone, I stood, bearing witness to the birth of a new day as the sunrise erupted over the Sangre de Cristo mountains. Igniting the sky in an awe-inspiring display. Colors, deep and fiery, flowed from the horizon, painting a canvas so spectacular I was awestruck. Despite the intensity of the spectacle, it led my thoughts astray, not to the plans of the day but to its conclusion.
Colorado’s vast landscapes awaited, from the Rio Grande to the San Juan National Forests. One of those top ten scenic drives west of the Mississippi River in our Rand McNally Road Atlas. But its looming end filled me with dread. Camping had become a trial, a battle against time and exhaustion. The memory of hours spent setting up and breaking down camp at Mt. Rushmore haunted me—a repetitive, tedious, and frustrating task. The long march through the spine of Colorado’s Rockies seemed a challenge too overwhelming to face with such a task at its end. We were on the move too much to set up and break camp daily. Not with the way we were set. An outdoor kitchen had to be set up to prepare each meal, and the entire camp proved too time-consuming to be practical.
In the cool embrace of the morning, beneath a sky newly aglow, Hunter S. Thompson rang in my ear. “It was time, I felt, for an agonizing reappraisal of the whole scene. You’re Fired!” The idea of abandoning our camping gear stung, a painful farewell to dollars spent. But the liberation it offered, the space it cleared for a proper, mobile kitchen, was precisely what we needed. It was a sacrifice for the greater good. A tent, a 2-hour set up awning, and a cornucopia of various, now useless camping gear, were neatly placed near the fence where the bins were kept. Hopefully, someone would get better use out of it than us.
A call to cancel our campground reservation and a new booking in Montrose, some 250 miles away, further streamlined our day. I probably could have found a better solution, but the morning was filled with new tasks like rearranging our van. I had time to figure out the next camping days. Something that would become a background priority. Our path would lead us through Durango before turning north towards the heart of the Rio Grande, San Juan, and Uncompahgre National Forests—a route rich with breathtaking views, winding roads along mighty vistas, and maybe a surprise or two.
The rest of the family, still wrapped in sleep, as I reorganized our belongings. Repacking what was left to maximize storage in the rack, making most things we would need near the front of the frame. The table becoming more of a prep station. Now, meals could be prepared more efficiently with room to keep burners ready and most utensils within arms reach. Without the camping gear taking so much space, it’s an arrangement that would serve us well over the next three weeks. Breakfast was ready as the first sleepy-eyed adventurer emerged, lured by the scent of bacon and the promise of a new day.
Though our journey across the San Juan Mountains would consume many hours, the day’s agenda was mercifully light. The scenery would be our muse, and the majestic mountains, and lush valleys, our destination. With no rush or pressing schedule, we savored a slow start, making our way toward Alamosa by mid-morning.
With the warm morning sun climbing higher, we crossed the Rio Grande and cruised through Alamosa. Alamosa, CO, derived from the Spanish word for “cottonwood,” speaks to the indigenous trees lining the Rio Grande near the town’s center. Founded in 1878 as a rail hub, she is a cliche of a town founded in the great western expansion that spreads across the continent. In modern times, Alamosa is a vital hub for agricultural trade, allowing the valley’s bountiful harvests to reach distant markets in the east and west. Its cultural heritage is apparent with Precolumbian-inspired Adobe construction next to buildings with a Victorian-era charm.
However, as morning climbed ever higher, we dared not linger. We continued on our path west out of the San Luis Valley. The day was crisp and clear, filling us with anticipation as we continued toward South Fork, CO. The air had a unique freshness, tinged with cedar and dry earth, hinting at the road ahead.
Across the Valley, we encountered vast grain fields and endless rows of citrus. In the distance, the mountains stood tall and rugged, capped with remnants of winter. As we neared the western edges of the Basin, the road began to climb, heralding a change in our journey. The chill of the Rio Grande National Forest teased, and the distant snow-covered mountains slowly became roadside scenes.
Wolf Creek Pass
The road twisted and turned, leading us higher until we reached Wolf Creek Pass, where winter still gripped the land. An icy blanket covered the earth. But the sun was shining, and the air was oddly warm. The temperature was in the 50’s. It was a teasing contrast as we crossed the Continental Divide again in our Rocky Mountain adventure. At the divide, a few signs marked a little history and significance of the pass.
The pass had come a long way since those early days when a journey across was a formidable task. The markers and signs on the road speak of when it took a Model T two days to cross the pass. Now, smooth pavement and modern conveniences have tamed the once-wild trail. One can cross completely from Valley to Valley in an hour. Yet, Wolf Creek Pass retains a mythical allure.
The road from Wolf Creek began a thrilling descent. In just 6.1 miles, we transitioned from snow-capped alpine vistas to a lush valley awash in every shade of green. The steep grades and hairpin turns added to the excitement as we pulled off at the Wolf Creek Valley Overlook, where a sign proclaimed that we had entered into “Pagosa Country.”
Pagosa Country surrounds the town of Pagosa Springs in southwestern Colorado, a place renowned for its geothermal hot springs. These are among the hottest in the world, and their mysterious allure has attracted people for centuries. We were heading down into Pagosa to cross the distance of the Valley.
The word “Pagosa” comes from the Southwestern Ute term “Pagosah,” thought to mean “healing waters” or “boiling waters.” It is a fitting name for a land rich in hot springs. Looking down into the Valley was like peering into a fairy tale. Rolling hills, a few evergreen rugged peaks, mirror lakes, sweeping meadows awash in yellow wildflowers, and verdant woodlands. All framed by lush, endless mountains. Diem and I stood for some time, enjoying the view.
We continued to the valley and Pagosa Springs, captivated by the lush scenery. A Chimney Rock National Monument sign caught my eye just beyond the town. So much of our trip was planned, but typically, we have a lot of spontaneity. I felt it was time for something unexpected. With the rest of the crew sound asleep, I decided to take the suggested left turn on a whim. A small, spontaneous adventure. It was a place of which I had never heard. This alone had my curiosity at full attention. I was eager to see where it would lead.
Chimney Rock National Monument
Chimney Rock National Monument lies between Pagosa Springs and Durango. Just south of US 160, on Colorado 151, on the edge of the San Juan National Forest. Just inside the Southern Ute Reservation. Spanning 4,726 acres, it’s an impressive archaeological site. It offers visitors a rare glimpse into the Precolumbian civilizations of the Southwest.
The iconic Chimney Rock rises an impressive 315 feet from the valley floor. Along with its ancient companion, the aptly named Companion Rock. Known to be a rare and vital Peregrine Falcon nesting site. Together, these natural towers overlook the valley floor below. Several active digs are scattered along the ridge trail leading to the monument.
This was a flourishing hub of the Ancient Puebloan community a thousand years ago. A town bustling with around 200 homes, where around 2,000 lived, worked, and held ceremonies for 200 years. The site was alive with kivas, ground-floor dwellings, and evidence of the inhabitant’s reverence for the mighty grizzly bear.
I found a parking space and walked to a kiosk with several rangers talking to other visitors. I was pleased to learn that our America the Beautiful membership covers parking at this monument. It didn’t at Mt. Rushmore. She explained that there was about a 3-mile drive to the top of the mountain. The road was not paved but in good condition, and it should take us around 15 minutes to reach the parking lot near the summit. From there, it was a 30-minute walk to the main Kiva, which you accessed by walking a ridge about a mile to the top.
Internally, I was calculating time. Could I spend an hour or two here and not jeopardize anything? It was Noon almost to the minute, and the navigator said 3.5 hours to Montrose. An hour wouldn’t hurt, right? I took an information map, thanked the ranger, and entered the visitor’s center. The visitor’s center had a new, well-curated museum and an active laboratory that housed and studied the trove of artifacts that have been and will be collected from the monument site. I grabbed some stickers from the gift shop before heading to the museum.
The shiny new museum housed an observation area to watch archeologists toil over artifacts. However, today, the lab was silent. The museum was filled with a lot of conjecture. The work was currently underway to learn more. But, the information they had learned was interesting enough. Much of the exhibits focused more on the history of the archeological dig itself. It has been ongoing since the late 1800s. The tour’s highlight was a sitting room containing two-story windows with a panoramic view of Chimney Rock and Companion Rock. With the museum fully explored, I headed to the van.
With the crew still uninterested in stirring, I made the slightly rough, mildly jolty drive up the “good-conditioned” dirt road. I found a parking spot at the top and left the entire party to sleep in the air-conditioned van. Here, I found another Kiosk with information. A ranger was kind enough to guide me to the ridge trail, and I made my way. The dusty trail winds up into a path of sparse scrub, a cactus or two, and dense conifer shrubs. We had traversed several different environments today, and the jeans, heavy boots, and long sleeves were becoming burdensome. I peeled my sweater off, wrapped it around my waist, and continued.
Within a few yards down the ridge trail, the valley opened below into a magnificent view. The tree-covered mountains flowed into the emerald-green plain. As I continued, the path rose higher and became more defined. Eventually, it encompasses most of the ridge top. Several times along the walk, I encountered archeological dig sites proclaiming to stay out and offering signs explaining the site. You can see the Great House foundation from the ridge as it sits high on the rock top.
The Great House ruins crowning the ridge played a significant role in the Chacoan hierarchy. This architecturally unique structure was crafted by hand with a mysterious alignment to the moon’s lunar standstill. All the materials painstakingly carried up the steep incline piece by piece. Every 18.6 years, the moon reaches a predictable lunar standstill between Chimney Rock and Companion Rock for 16 months. The Pueblans believed these months were auspicious, and did most of their construction project during these periods.
Some archeological evidence shows the Great House getting upgrades and Major improvements during these lunar standstills. Fascinating stuff. The strangest part is that after 200 years of the settlement, the inhabitants abandoned Chimney Rock in 1125. In their departure, they torched the town, leaving only the silent echoes of their lives in the ruins of Chimney Rock. In 2012, then-President Barack Obama, recognized the mystique and value of the land, proclaiming it a national monument. The work continues as archeologists diligently probe its secrets. Yet much of the park lies undisturbed, murmuring the enigmas of ages gone by.
After about halfway to the Great House, the sun had warmed the semidesert ridge into a baking sheet. With no water and a sense that I had been gone long enough, I retreated to the van to check on the others. When I returned, everyone was still nice and cozy, and we headed back to US Highway 160 to cross the edge of Pargin Mountain and into the Pine River Valley. It was so exciting, just rising and falling from mountain to valley and on again. As we neared the valley’s far side, the road rose again. Headed for a low river-cut canyon pass that crosses into the Animas River Valley, the home of Durango. We slid into Durango, picked up US Highway 550, and turned true north to run the length of the narrow valley.
Molas Overlook
The mighty peaks walled the valley into a ribbon about 26 miles long. Following the Animas River to where the river enters the valley from Animas Canyon. Here, we began our winding ride out of the valley toward soaring heights deep within the San Juan Mountains. Again, the lush spring valley gave way to rugged snow-capped peaks. By Molas overlook, we were riding high, a sense of being on the top of the world.
At a respectable 10,910 feet, the views at the overlook were beautiful. The San Juan mountains, frosted with the remnants of winter’s snow, stretched forever into the distance. Being so high and up close to the tree line was interesting. The treeless rocky tops, a demarkation line below which alpine forests, spring meadows, and evergreens, flow into the valley below. Here, Diem and I rested for a while. Soaking in the view and observing the moment. After a time, we wound our way slowly and methodically across the expanse of the San Juan Mountains. Onward past the random ghost mine on the mountainside, and glances at mountains unfolding endlessly in the distance. One by one, the beautiful mountain towns came and went.
We cut through the edge of Silverton and entered the Million Dollar Highway. A stretch of tight hairpin turns, and sweeping curves section of US Hwy 550. An adrenaline-filled stretch, I assure you. The views and sights were incredible as we wound our way past Red Mountain, and through to the heart of Ouray.
In this archetypal recreational mountain town, we were to camp the night. But this morning’s gut check cancelation had us driving another 45 minutes north to Montrose. Beyond Ouray, we snaked our way down the range’s north side and dropped into the Uncompahgre Valley. The night began to descend upon us as we rolled into town.
I had booked a room at the Red Arrow Inn and Suites. A choice Diem and the girls were none too happy with. The motel was a little seedy, the pool was green with vines, and it looked like someone may at one time have bled out on the cushioned chair. But there wasn’t anything else available for 100 miles. It would have to do.
The girls covered the beds with extra blankets we had brought, and we set up as best we could. Already being late, and too tired to start dinner, we took a rare night to eat out. A Mexican restaurant called Mi Mexico shared the parking lot, and it seemed like an excellent opportunity for a few adult beverages. We walked to the restaurant and tucked in for an easy and tasty meal.
It was a classic southwest Mexican Restaurant. Yellow queso, and Colorado salsa. They did, however, have an interesting fresh mushroom salsa that was both unique and tasty. The cocktails weren’t too bad, either. It had been a long, but not too difficult day driving, and the girls seemed to take this as a resting day.
Diem joined me for a few overlooks, but other than that, it had been a quiet one. I think we were all due for a slower, relaxed day. Occasionally, I would see the girls snapping pictures out the window, but mostly, they appeared for meals, napped, and played Minecraft together. Tomorrow, we continue our tour of the San Juan Mountains, taking in the ski town of Telluride, before plunging south into the arid and dusty southwest corner of Colorado and Cortez. The unforgiving desert was calling. What an incredible journey it has been, and will continue to be as we discover more of this beautiful country, beneath an endless sky.
To explore some of the Parks and Monuments we’ve explored and more, click here for the National Park Services.
