This was another day when everything seemed to go wrong. After a hearty pancake breakfast we left the campground and went to the Arches National
Park. At the first scenic viewpoint called "Park Avenue" I tried to get a better shot with my friend's new digital camera when I tripped on the sidewalk and fell on my knee (the same one I had landed on when I stum
bled on the sidewalk in Helena, Montana - did I mention that?) and my elbow and the camera hit the ground. My main concern was for the camera. It came away with several scratches but no other damage. I came away with considerably more damage: There was the bleeding knee, the scraped up elbow and hand, but worst of all was my damaged ego. Several kind people helped me up and offered first aid which I naturally refused ("'t ain't nothin', ma'am!"). Do two such incidents constitute a streak?
We continued
on in near 90 degree heat to see most of th
e arches. Arches are different than the bridges which we saw earlier. Bridges are made by flowing water eroding the stone, whereas arches are high and dry and are formed when walls of rock called "fins" lose some of the lower stone, leaving the upper part as an arch. Did I explain that real good? If not, "Google" it.
We then went to have lunch in an "authentic" Mexican restaurant, only the waiter's accent struck me as being from Eastern Europe. He also was about twice as tall as the b
usboy who was a real Mexican. The reason I mention the lunch at all is that my streak of bad luck continued when I accidentally knocked over my tall glass of ice tea while passing my leather bound menu to the tall waiter. I claim that contributing factors were the tall glass and the stiff menu. My friend's lap was wet and the waiter and the busboy rushed over with napkins and rags. Oh yeah, the food lacked that real Mexican flavor - my friend thought that the cook forgot the chili powder and the cilantro. Maybe the cook was from Eastern Europe also.
We then pressed on to
ward Aspen, Colorado, expecting to make it only partway there. Frankly, I had had enough of canyons and rocks of any color and longed for some green meadows and pastures where one could see for miles. Canyons with mountains on both sides give me claustrophobia, after a while. Well, we made it to where we thought we would make it and the place was closed. Not really closed, but the campground we were shooting for was filled up and we couldn't locate any other. So we drove into the evening until we finally came to Aspen, Colorado.
Now, this is a ritzy place! They don't have any motels, let alone campgrounds, just lodges, hotels, and Inns. They don't have any prominent signs (a city ordinance) to catch your eye as you're driving by and they don't have any supermarkets with large parking lots where we could have parked our camper and spent the night. We drove up and down the street until we finally spotted a place called "The Tyrolean Lodge" that had a vacancy sign out front. We hesitated because there was no place to park our camper, but the route beyond Aspen, according to the map, was devoid of any civilization, so we had no choice but to take the very last vacant room at "The Tyrolean Lodge." We parked the camper on a side street, took all the valuables to our room and hoped for the best. In retrospect, we probably didn't have to worry about the camper or our meager belongings being stolen after we saw the stores and the jet setters in downtown Aspen. With all that apparent wealth being displayed, who needs to rob a couple of tourists?
The town of Aspen is really nice. Solid stone or brick buildings, some dating back to the 1800s. Fashionable stores that you would find on 5th Avenue in New York, Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, etc. In the evening when we went out for a bite, the town was full of young people with cell phones in their hands and on their ears, some dressed to the hilt (especially the women), getting in and out of limousines. One watering hole or restaurant borders on the the next - all were packed. These chic places didn't look exactly cheap. Where all these young people came from, if they live there year-round, and where they get the money for their lifestyle is a mystery to me. There also were some older people surrounded by what looked like extended family - maybe they had flown in for the weekend, I saw a number of airplanes that looked like private jets as we passed the airport. One explanation for the many people in the midst of a wilderness is that a wine and gourmet food festival was going to happen the following weekend with some kind of jazz performance. Probably a "must" for the jet set.
Day 17 ended with us watching reruns of "Seinfeld" and the "Golden Girls" in our room in "The Tyrolean Lodge."
Park. At the first scenic viewpoint called "Park Avenue" I tried to get a better shot with my friend's new digital camera when I tripped on the sidewalk and fell on my knee (the same one I had landed on when I stum
bled on the sidewalk in Helena, Montana - did I mention that?) and my elbow and the camera hit the ground. My main concern was for the camera. It came away with several scratches but no other damage. I came away with considerably more damage: There was the bleeding knee, the scraped up elbow and hand, but worst of all was my damaged ego. Several kind people helped me up and offered first aid which I naturally refused ("'t ain't nothin', ma'am!"). Do two such incidents constitute a streak?We continued
on in near 90 degree heat to see most of th
e arches. Arches are different than the bridges which we saw earlier. Bridges are made by flowing water eroding the stone, whereas arches are high and dry and are formed when walls of rock called "fins" lose some of the lower stone, leaving the upper part as an arch. Did I explain that real good? If not, "Google" it.We then went to have lunch in an "authentic" Mexican restaurant, only the waiter's accent struck me as being from Eastern Europe. He also was about twice as tall as the b
usboy who was a real Mexican. The reason I mention the lunch at all is that my streak of bad luck continued when I accidentally knocked over my tall glass of ice tea while passing my leather bound menu to the tall waiter. I claim that contributing factors were the tall glass and the stiff menu. My friend's lap was wet and the waiter and the busboy rushed over with napkins and rags. Oh yeah, the food lacked that real Mexican flavor - my friend thought that the cook forgot the chili powder and the cilantro. Maybe the cook was from Eastern Europe also.We then pressed on to
ward Aspen, Colorado, expecting to make it only partway there. Frankly, I had had enough of canyons and rocks of any color and longed for some green meadows and pastures where one could see for miles. Canyons with mountains on both sides give me claustrophobia, after a while. Well, we made it to where we thought we would make it and the place was closed. Not really closed, but the campground we were shooting for was filled up and we couldn't locate any other. So we drove into the evening until we finally came to Aspen, Colorado.Now, this is a ritzy place! They don't have any motels, let alone campgrounds, just lodges, hotels, and Inns. They don't have any prominent signs (a city ordinance) to catch your eye as you're driving by and they don't have any supermarkets with large parking lots where we could have parked our camper and spent the night. We drove up and down the street until we finally spotted a place called "The Tyrolean Lodge" that had a vacancy sign out front. We hesitated because there was no place to park our camper, but the route beyond Aspen, according to the map, was devoid of any civilization, so we had no choice but to take the very last vacant room at "The Tyrolean Lodge." We parked the camper on a side street, took all the valuables to our room and hoped for the best. In retrospect, we probably didn't have to worry about the camper or our meager belongings being stolen after we saw the stores and the jet setters in downtown Aspen. With all that apparent wealth being displayed, who needs to rob a couple of tourists?
The town of Aspen is really nice. Solid stone or brick buildings, some dating back to the 1800s. Fashionable stores that you would find on 5th Avenue in New York, Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, etc. In the evening when we went out for a bite, the town was full of young people with cell phones in their hands and on their ears, some dressed to the hilt (especially the women), getting in and out of limousines. One watering hole or restaurant borders on the the next - all were packed. These chic places didn't look exactly cheap. Where all these young people came from, if they live there year-round, and where they get the money for their lifestyle is a mystery to me. There also were some older people surrounded by what looked like extended family - maybe they had flown in for the weekend, I saw a number of airplanes that looked like private jets as we passed the airport. One explanation for the many people in the midst of a wilderness is that a wine and gourmet food festival was going to happen the following weekend with some kind of jazz performance. Probably a "must" for the jet set.
Day 17 ended with us watching reruns of "Seinfeld" and the "Golden Girls" in our room in "The Tyrolean Lodge."
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