At 7 am, I wandered a few blocks to a sweet little coffee house in an old Airstream.
Apologies, especially to Dennis Galloway, for the crappy panorama I took with my cellphone.
I chatted with the young barista who convinced me I could never live in Cortez: It snowed there on her final day of school last May!
On to Dolores where I had my first of several stops to see the Dolores River.
Dolores is a small town, under 1000, a little larger than the one I live in. But it’s a tourist area, so it’s far busier. It has several parks along the river with benches so folks can enjoy the view.
And from Dolores north, only two words for the scenery—beautiful and dramatic. Leaves were starting to turn, so there was color everywhere. Reds, golds, greens. Brilliant blue sky with puffy, white cumulus clouds.
The road wove near, beside, and over the Dolores and each curve brought more beauty.
I passed through Rico, a town of about 400 people.
The road had started out with slow hills and gentle curves, but somewhere beyond Dolores it turned steeper with tighter curves.
And the clouds became more gray. Was there snow in my future? I’d seen a number of chain-up signs. What chains!! I’m from southern Arizona!!
I stopped to see Sheep Mountain, elevation 13,188. My altimeter said I was at nearly 1,000 feet.
The hour-and-a-half drive to Telluride took me closer to four because of the many stops I made.
I detoured a few miles into Telluride. A disappointment. It was too polished for me, seemed almost a fabrication. I’d hoped to have lunch there but found only one open parking spot with a twenty-minute limit. As I headed back out of town, I noticed all downtown spots had the same time limit. I’ll not be back.
I figured I’d better concentrate more on driving and less on the scenery if I wanted to make it to Gunnison, another several hours up the road. At my rate, it would take five or six hours!
But beyond Telluride, the scenery changed. Different side of the mountain. It was a gentle downhill most of the way, so I breezed along at 55-65 to Montrose where I finally got a meal. Then on to Gunnison for the night.
My route.
The place I stayed had a hot tub. M-m-m-m.
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Coffee-ied up and out of my motel before seven. Got a mile up the road and saw my tire light. I limped back to town and pulled up in front of a tire repair place. There was a note on the door saying he was open by appointment and there was a phone number. I called and he said he’d probably be in around nine.
I checked a few other places, but no one repaired tires, so I headed back to the motel to wait until 9 o’clock. The owner saw me, wondered why I hadn’t left, and I explained. She had her son come and put air in my tire! Hooray! Back on the road!
Half a mile up the road, my tire light came on.
I rolled slowly forward, getting in and out of the car to check my tire, and there it was. A nail.
By this time it was 8:45, so I got some gas and headed back to the tire place. At 9:10 I called the tire guy again and he said he be in in about half an hour. He made it in twenty minutes.
In the meantime, I looked at maps to change my route yet again. The plan had been to stay on back roads and stop at Canyon de Chelly, then go through Teec Nos Pos to the Four Corners and head into Cortez, Colorado, where my next motel awaited. 6 1/2 hours of driving time. Plus, of course, I wanted to spend time at the Canyon and get the obligatory photo at Four Corners.
I wouldn’t have time to do all that without having to drive into Cortez in the dark. Out of the question. I rerouted.
Up 191 to Sanders. A beautiful high desert route with nearly a dozen windmills, most happily pumping water. There was little traffic.
I didn’t make my goal of not being on interstates, but since technically I’d had to use I-10 for seven miles the day before, I’d already blown the goal. I missed the canyon but saved an hour and a half of driving.
I
At least it was a scenic drive.
At Gallop I exited the interstate into a traffic jam. Roadwork heading north made for a mess, and drivers were not courteous.
The highway north was dotted with hitchhikers, the most I’ve ever seen. One or two or three were on every block, all of them Native American.
More beautiful high desert driving. I finally saw the Shiprock.
Then to the town of Shiprock where there was a large area of government-issued housing. None of it was in the traditional hogan shape and all houses were identical. It was pretty awful. How depressing it must be for the people who live there.
From there I drove to Teec Nos Pos and headed north toward Colorado. In a very short time I’d reached The state line and the famous Four Corners.
The marker says FOUR CORNERS…HERE MEET…IN FREEDOM…UNDER GOD.
Center seal
More great scenery, and I rolled into Cortez, Colorado, about 40 minutes later. 
I settled in and strolled a few blocks to have a salad and a cup of soup for supper.
I left home before seven and headed north.
Past one of my favorite windmills,
Passing Whitewater Draw, I just blew a kiss, and zipped on through Elfrida. Past farms and farms and more farms. Then I had to stop at the border patrol checkpoint, a whole thirty miles north of the border.
Fams, farms, farms. This is the area where foreign corporate agra has sunk innumerable wells for crops to ship to their home countries. And in the process, they’re draining the aquifer, causing small farmers’ wells to go dry, destroying the central and northern parts of Cochise County. The area will eventually run out of water and the corporate farms will move on to kill another beautiful spot.
Then through Kansas Settlement.
I passed miles of corn being raised for the poor cattle at a monstrous feedlot. The pesticides on crops and the manure runoff are destroying area creeks that not long ago were still pristine.
I made a stop at Bonita Bean Company for a bag of locally raised pinto beans (much smaller farm than the agra farms).
And Dos Cabezas (Two Heads) towering over all.
On through Willcox and then, sadly, I had to drive on I-10 for about six or seven miles to the next off-interstate stretch of 191.
Through Safford and north on Highway 78 which cut east, eventually taking me into New Mexico for a time. New Mexico welcomed me.
Note all the bullet holes. What a welcome!
Up and up I went on a twisty road with fast-moving semis and few pullovers. It reminded me of the stretch of Mexico Highway 2 between Cananea and Imuris, and if you’ve driven that, you know. White-knuckle driving. Well, 78 wasn’t that bad.
But one empty livestock semi seemed to be chasing me. Truly.
Past a sign that warned of falling rocks, and the warning was backed up with a heavy metal mesh fence that held back tumbling boulders. At least I hoped it did.
I finally was able to pull over at the top of the pass to let the empty truck roar by. I got out to stretch and found the air to be deliciously fresh. I’d been driving through desert scrub, but when I got back into my car and rounded the curve at the end of the pass, I was in a pine forest! No wonder the air had smelled so fresh.
Even some wildlife, and some not-so-wild life.
Two small fauns, little ones that looked too young to have left their mother, hovered at the side of the road. I stopped and turned on my flashers, giving them safe passage.
They stared at me, hesitated, stepped onto the highway, and stopped. They stared some more and then dashed off across the road. The cow stared at me but never moved.
Lots more scenery.
Then I turned north toward Reserve and Luna. Luna Lake just outside Alpine, had a very low water level.
I saw any areas that had been burned.
And signs I never see back home.
And pine trees that turn yellow in fall and shed them their needles.
I stopped for the night in Springerville. Next door was a wonderful little coffee shop called Junk and Java. I saw some “junk” I absolutely loved and if they’d fit I’d have bought them.
Then dinner. Fish fry. Part cod and part catfish. The catfish had been dunked in egg and rolled in corn meal. It was delicious. Perfect end to a wonderful day.
Emilie Vardaman 