Take Me Home, Country Road

We are quickly approaching the end of our journey. Tom expects we will be home in two days if all goes well. Today we are driving as far as we can in Colorado, with one side trip to Mount Evans Scenic Byway near Denver. Case in point #2: Tom has dragged me to two (so far) nature areas to birdwatch. After driving nearly 30 miles up the mountain at 25 mph and very nearly running over a yellow-bellied marmot (I think I nipped his tail), I was perfectly content to sit in the car while Tom explored the great outdoors. Besides, it’s cold as a coal-miner’s arse outside. And so here I sit, with a singular view of Summit Lake at elevation 12, 800 feet, writing notes and munching Pirate’s Booty. I have no clue where Tom is right now. I haven’t seen him for at least 45 minutes. Hopefully he wasn’t attacked by a pack of angry marmots seeking vengeance for their injured comrade.

When Tom had seen all he wanted to see at Summit Lake, we decided to head on up to the top of Mt. Evans. After all, it is the highest paved road in North America, and Jack wouldn’t want to miss that opportunity. On our way we came across a herd of mountain goats grazing by the side of the road. They couldn’t have been more than eight feet away from the car. And I thought I wouldn’t see anything cool on this mountain! That was just a preview apparently, because when we reached the top of the mountain, the lookout structure was completely overtaken by mountain goats. You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen mountain goats going up- and downstairs at a visitors’ center. We drove down the mountain and picnicked at Echo Lake, where Tom and I rehashed the white bread incident of earlier this morning. I think it’s funny, but Tom is still a little bitter about knocking his white bread onto the ground. And since there was no sign of marmot in the road at the scene of the close call, my conscience is clear.

We said goodbye to Denver and pointed the car towards Utah. Entering Utah, Tom and I had fun reminiscing about the last time we were in Utah together, on the way to Denver for World Youth Day in 1993. We stopped for dinner in Green River, which looks much smaller in person than it does on the map. Then we picked our destination for the night: Beaver, Utah. The Utah landscape provided many beautiful scenes, though the highlight of the drive was when Tom, in response to road signs reading “Slower Traffic Use Flashers,” flashed a passing truck driver. Later, Tom sniffed his own crotch to determine the scent of a fart. I think it goes without saying that I miss MB. A lot.

We arrived at Beaver’s two exits and randomly selected the Comfort Inn. Five minutes later we were at the Quality Inn. Ten minutes after that, we pulled into the Rodeway Inn. Shout out to Kathy at the Quality Inn for calling another, cheaper hotel to find us a non-smoking room. You rock! Reverse shout out to the flipping marmot that ran out into the road as I approached at 15 mph and then parked it directly in front of my right front tire. Stupid creature.