Sunday, July 24, 2011

The actions necessary in that country to conserve biological diversity (22USC2151q)

Variation from Idaho Springs, CO, to Moab, UT

After being kept up half the night by an anxious dog who was even more worried than I about thunderstorms, we woke up ungodly early – but miraculously dry. This turned out to be a blessing, as we were able to hike the Chicago Lakes Trail in peace, with only the Rockies watching over us.

Piqued by these peaks, we headed for another solitary hike at St. Mary’s Glacier, where we tiptoed carefully beside a rushing snowmelt waterfall and over precarious avalanche scree in order to stop and smell the alpine wildflowers.

After all this outdoor seclusion, I felt entitled to a return to civilization, even if it was just the former gold-rush community of Georgetown. At one end of the small town was a mountain sheep viewing area (I saw only more wildflowers), and on the other, a cute main street that included The Happy Cooker, where I had a leisurely brunch.

Although Georgetown retains its charm, another mining settlement nearby, Frisco, has been transformed into a yuppified gateway to Breckenridge, Vail, and Keystone, among other ski resorts. I had thought to imbibe at a microbrewery there, but it and a reputable bakery were packed with REI types, so I settled on envying its many bike paths, including one that traced the Colorado River all the way to Glenwood Springs.

We descended out of the Rockies alongside the river, only to climb back up into the cliffs of the Colorado National Monument, much to Sage’s chagrin, whose ears did not appreciate the constant changes in altitude. Consequently, he didn’t really esteem the expanse of Monument Canyon.

We maintained our altitude as we arrived in Utah, but now the climate was transformed. No more snow could be spied as we sped through dusty gullies toward the one campground in my TripTik where my mom had once stayed, which I discovered by magical coincidence only when I checked in with my dad later that night.

By the end of the day, we had reached the “Grand Canyon of Utah” near Moab, where you could see the striations of centuries past. Our shift in time seemed more palpable than simply crossing into the Mountain zone. Indeed, the area seemed a bit enchanted, when I discovered that petting Sage in the tent sparked static electricity like biting Pep-O-Mint Lifesavers.

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