Church, hiking and more
August 2, 2009

It being Sunday morning and all, we began the day by listening to a talk by Rev. Tom at Unity of Prescott via internet. What a great feature to make the Sunday talks available that way. I only wish it were the whole service; then I’d really feel as if I were back home. The availability is not quite up to date. The only one we hadn’t heard was the one from June 28, the day Dad died, so we listened to that one and enjoyed it very much. Here’s the link to the website: http://www.unityprescott.com/index.html.

Treasure Falls . . .
Chris remembered that there was a waterfall on the way up Wolf Creek Pass that he wanted to see, so we headed up that way. We are camped about 15 miles from the pass. We went through there in a bit of a hurry a few years ago on the way to Vail with Bud & Barbara, so missed it then. Last year, we had a gloriously beautiful drive over Wolf Creek, but were pulling the trailer and it was pouring rain, not a good time for a hike. Today, then, was the perfect time, so Treasure Falls was our destination.

As we gazed up at the cascade far above us, I declared that I wouldn’t be hiking up there. Next thing I knew, I was on my way. The hike was nowhere near as difficult as it appeared it would be and was a delightful walk with several routes out to vantage points. That walk netted (so to speak) us a brown creeper (a life bird for us). I also spotted a small secretive bird flitting through the masses of ground cover. At the exact moment when he showed himself by hopping onto a downed log, a deer fly took a chunk out of my hide. While slapping at my leg to relieve the pain, I missed my bird. Imagine - it might have been a gray-green-with-a-hint-of-yellow-eye-striped fir climber, but then again, maybe not.

I was very surprised to see a large catnip shrub by the trail, just one, something I have never seen out in the boonies before. Chris picked a sprig for Rowdy; I’m sure he misses the fresh catnip we grow at home.

Wolf Creek Pass, Continental Divide . . .
It had rained at the falls before we got there, and as we pulled away to traverse the pass, it rained some more. I was ready to turn around and skip more driving in the rain, but it seemed that Chris was seeking a visitation to his past, so on we went, over the pass and off onto a dirt road. Oh boy, I thought: dirt road plus rain equals something we’ve already done on this trip which I choose not to do again. The rain let up, though, and Mr. Determination continued driving back through the years until he came to the place of a long-ago two-week solo backpack on the Continental Divide Trail from Wolf Creek Pass to Silverton. Raining all around and a bit of lightning, but neither of us can resist a trail stretched out before us. We didn’t hike a great distance because the weather truly was becoming dangerous, but enough to be completely enchanted and for Chris to regale me with memories of that distant adventure.

Across the way, we spied three marmots (one of my totem animals) with one baby and watched them frolicking. And despite my vow not to collect cones and seeds this trip, I was so taken with the lovely delicate cones of the Englemann spruce that I succumbed to the compulsion of collecting souvenirs. We definitely noticed the over-11,000 foot elevation while hiking, not being Nepalese Sherpas. The trail is through the Weminuche Wilderness Area.

In the truck, we drove a ways out to Lobo Overlook, from which one can view the entire world, it seems. These mountains, the San Juans, are magnificent and majestic (it’s okay to reuse adjectives from Utah now that I’m in Colorado; I shall recycle them for each state when needed). These wide grassy valleys are rimmed by peaks of coniferous forest topped by rocky spars, some with snow clinging to the precipitous slopes. One attempts to display the immensity in a photograph, but all sense of proportion is lost.

While up in the high(er) country, we added more birds to the trip list, including a gray jay (Rocky Mountain variant) - another life bird, black-capped chickadee, white-crowned sparrow and black-eyed junco.

Hot springs, night visitor, mail, southern food . . .
We polished off the day with afternoon dips in the hot springs pools and supper out at the Dogwood Cafe. Its southern name and menu were irresistible. I even got sweet tea to go with my four-veggie plate. Chris opted for crawfish cakes. We dined outside on the deck with a view of the mountains and reveled in our fried okra, excellent cornbread and an entire meal to get us in the mood for warmer climes.

We had another wildlife visitor last night, 4 a.m. to be exact. Rowdy woke me up by frantically bouncing off the walls until I dutifully arose, groped for my flashlight in the dark and peered out the windows with him. About all I could see was the reflection of the light in the window, but he seemed placated enough by my actions and reassurance that we were able to retire once again.

A couple of days ago, we got our first mail since the trip’s commencement. We have our mail forwarded to the Good Sam Club forwarding service in Pensacola, Florida. At such time as we know where we will be long enough for it to reach us, we call and ask them to send it along, thus we end up with well-traveled mail. This particular batch was very fun because I got lots of birthday cards, reminders that I have not been forgotten. I have decided that this birthday shall continue for months and months; it will be my excuse for every indulgence I have a hankering for.

I just remembered something that we saw in the museum the other day - black angora goat chaps. It made me think about all the times I tried to come up with items of interest to tell Dad about from our travels. He and his family raised Angora goats in Texas and Arizona. He would have gotten a big kick out of hearing about these chaps. I can hear him again, “No kidding?” he would say.