Apparently people in this country like baseball, which I don't get, but that's ok. Except for the fact there was some minor league tournament in Grand Junction, CO, so we could not for the life of us find a hotel for the night. Which meant we ended up at the Riverwood RV park and motel in Delta, CO, about 20 miles south of Grand Junction. It was amazing.
After rain all night, we set out in the grey morning and started back east.
It rained steadily, but as soon as it broke, we decided to stop and see Doc Holliday's final resting place in Greenwood Springs, CO.
We hiked up the half mile above the picturesque mountain town and in to a wooded forest. Why there is a cemetery up here I couldn't tell you, but it just felt great to walk.
We made it up to the headstone...
Only to learn that it was really anyone's guess where he was buried. Another marker said they weren't even sure if he was buried in this town, let alone the cemetery, but someplace is as good as any I suppose, and they were fairly certain he died in Greenwood Springs, so, fair enough.
Walking back down and around Greenwood Springs, Tom made friends with this guy, who was en route running across the United States. It was his 4th trip across, and as such he was in the Guinness Book of World Records. Known to us as "the Swede", he was 31 short running days from Los Angeles heading to the east coast. What a stud. You can check out his (more technically advanced) blog here
Back on the road, we soon again diverted to appreciate the raging Colorado River we'd been driving along for some time. We didn't pick the best place to do so, getting stuck both under the freeway and in a major traffic jam entering a national park. But the water, and the canyons, were impressive.
Without further ado, we decided to gun it to Denver. "Gunning it" may be quite a hyperbole, as we had to make it through the Rockies, first in rain, then hail, then snow, coming to peaks of 10,000 and 11,000 feet. Clarisse was pretty slow going, but steady as she went. This is the Vail pass.
Making it to the other side, we stopped in a weird little mining town, Idaho Springs, where I made friends with this guy, who owned the Idaho Springs pawn shop, where things were surprisingly overpriced.
He was eating his lunch, which he said was from next door and was the best food around, but I wondered whether he and I had similar tastes and standards. Deciding the likelihood was low, we set out again for Denver.
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