It is spring break and surprisingly divergent from most spring breaks, it is actually incredibly and mind-bogglingly warm! This morning around 1 found Angelia rolling in to the spot in front of our house after an IncRedIBle few days exploring the near entirety of Southwestern Colorado. We found this adorable little place in Ouray, where we stayed in the Imogene Cabin, which was complete with tiny bathroom, kitchenette, screened porch, and loft with some matching tiny windows. It was so refreshing to wake up to the rush of a little creek right outside our windows. After an amazing drive through Gunnison and the like, we hung out at the Ouray Hot Springs before crashing into bed.
Tuesday morning brought the realization that the stove in our kitchenette lacked the ability to light and therefore no boiled eggs to fuel our day, but that did little to quell our excitement as we embarked on another (smaller) journey down south to take in the splendor of Mesa Verde National Park (nearly loosing our breath at the fabulous San Juans and mesas we drove through along the way). Although I've seen a thousand pictures of this incredible ancient city, I am proud to have a vast collection of my own images-- we even got to climb down into an underground kiva and it was a wonderous experience to put our hands in the same places that Anasazi put their hands to pat down mortor and decorative plaster. Whenever I visit a new area of creation, I can't help but wonder how these people survived the land before we tamed it with our asphalt and speed limit signs. I wonder what it must have been like to be the first one to ever see it, the first ones to learn the footsteps of the land and make it thier own through the toil and sweat poured into the sheer effort it takes just to walk through it.
After exlporing the ruins, we headed east to Durango, where a friend has recently moved. We ate some gigantic slices of Pizza, dodged St. Patrick's drunked revelers (although I was tempted to take one girl up on the face painting, but resisted when I realized paying a drunk person $5 to draw on my face might be less fun that it sounds) and bought a thouristy T-shirt because I think it is important to have at least one article of clothing proving that you have visited some areas of your own state. As nightfall set in, we ventured north on the Million Dollor Highway, which I think must be called this as a result of a recent shooting of Fear Factor on the trecherous highway characterized by sheer cliffs outlined by the white line on the road and a complete lack of guardrails. Lets just say I was actually happy that it was too dark to see how far we might fall to our eminent deaths. We did however, find a few minutes to get out of the car and marvel at the abundance of stars erased by our addiction to light here in the city. We made it back to the cabin all in one peice and quite proud of our bravery.
Wednesday, as Angelina slept off the terror of the night before, I got up and took a short walk down the river and then returned to create the most beautiful stack of waffles that have ever come from my hands (photos coming soon). We spent some time exploring the quaintness of Ouray and also developed a bit of a treasure-hunt, searching for the shops that were actually open after runnning into more than one shop-window bearing signs scrawled with "out to Lunch" or "back in May." Amoung the shops that were open, however, was perhaps my new favorite bok sotre in the state of Colorado, which houses a vast array of books on the history of Colorado, the west, and women in the west, as well as an eclectic collection of anitque glass objects, shards of indian-painted pottery, and other rusty objects seemingly dug from the mountainside out the back door.
The day's outside-the-car adventures concluded with a ride on the Gondola at Telluride, where we scored some cool drinks (Carmel Frappe-- me, Mango/Rasp Smoothie-- Anglina) from "The Coffee Cowboy," a little drink bar housed in a horse trailer parked beside a collection of picnic tables covered in colorfully-printed vinyl. We then headed back up towards I-70 for a long and arduous ride home, which was complete with a pow-wow with a prisoner transport at the Conoco in Georgetown sometime around 11 p.m.
The last couple of days were a nice opportunity to get away from the phone and computer and regularly-paved streets. It has been a long time since I've really had the chance (and the money) to get away to a new place. When I started college, I remember hearing someone talk about how travleing just opens you up to all sorts of new ways of thinking. At that moment, I decided to make it my goal to experience as many new places as possible while in college, including deciding to move 800 miles away for a few months. But since getting back from Idaho, I haven't had the money or time to get real far away until now and it felt so good.
The thing I've been thikning alot about the last couple days is the importance of risk-taking. Putting your toe out there, into the cold water. For me, just staying up past 11 is risky. Being outside after 11 is even more outof the ordinary for me. So it was good for me this week to get out into a new place for me. I did a lot of visual research for my next bout of paintings, which was nice, but now I'm going to have to figure out how to sort it all out in my head to decide where to start.
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