Colorado part 1

It’s Monday night in Salida, Colorado. I’m sitting in a lawn chair by a stand-alone fireplace made of brick probably some thirty years ago. Troy has started a fire and the temperature is steadily dropping. I can hear the flow of the river just a few yards away and the cool breeze is starting to make the hair on my arms stand up.

We’re staying at a place called the Chateau Chapparal. It appears to be somewhat like a trailer park, but instead of sad desolate trailers, it is filled with all varieties of campers and RVs. Some people clearly have put a lot of money into their lot. Several places look like they started as simple campers and have since been renovated into full-fledged houses outfitted with large wood decks and porch swings. A lot of the residents are elderly and come during the summer, but I’ve also heard stories of people who live here all the time and just drive into Salida or Buena Vista for work everyday. One guy next door is the janitor at the local high school.

The lot that the Crain’s own is around thirty years old. Their little trailer is called the Lil’ Burrito and is perhaps one of the smallest campers on site. Troy’s grandpa bought it a while back and in the past few years, his dad has come to own the lot. His brother and sister have also bought their own lots here and are a bit nicer, but I’m loving the quaintness of theirs; having breakfast on the picnic table and sitting by a fire. It just feels more like camping when you actually spend your time outside. We are staying in Troy’s aunt’s camper. We’re on the floor while Matt and Roxie get the bedroom. There’s a bath house just a driveway away to take showers and do other bathroom things. I feel like I’m at summer camp and I love it. I only wish my family would have done things like this when I was younger. I guess there’s still time.

Oh yeah…how’d we get here? Troy had to work his usual 12-hour shift on Saturday, but threw caution to the wind and decided that we could drive all through the night to get here. I’m not really sure how we did it, but both of us stayed up all night and made it here in 12 hours. Our drive was not without incidents. We stopped in the middle of the road several times to look at stars, sit and gawk at the openness of the land, and of course stare at a random buffalo who was standing right at the edge of a fence. Oh and I can’t forget being stared down by a bull who had gotten loose in the street somehow.

When we got here, Troy’s family had pancakes waiting for us. We scarfed them down and immediately made plans for the day. We had no dinner and no sleep for the past 24 hours and decided…let’s go on a hike. We wandered just across the river on the trails back through the San Isabel National Forest searching for an Indian Campground. Troy’s parents had been hyping it up since we saw them in Texas. I’m still not sure what actual landmarks we were looking for to find said Indian Campground, but after 5 hours and a lot of off trail hiking, we decided to quit the search. It was sad not to find our destination, but the hiking was eventful enough. Most of the time we were climbing rocks and wandering aimlessly. Eventually we followed a creek bed into what looked like a bear’s den in hopes of meeting up with the river. On the way, we also saw mutilated animals, lots of bear poop, and then crept up on some rafters as they were relieving themselves, thinking they were off the trails (they were). The hiking was quite possibly some of the most strenuous I’ve done, but of course, that’s bound to happen when you’re not actually on a trail.


Well, there’s more to write, but the wind has gotten downright cold and a night walk to the river is in order.