We then drove into town and spent the afternoon watching the USA getting knocked out of the world cup in a local brewpub. We missed all of England’s games as we were in remote parts of Utah without access to a television, and so it was a pleasure to finally watch some football. Relaxing in the truck after the game (read: stealing a Wi-Fi signal), we had a knock on the door and were told politely by the local sheriff that overnight parking in Ouray was only allowed at the local RV park.
After waiting for the effects of the beer to wear off, we drove north out of town until we had passed the ‘city limits’ sign. We took the first forest road we found, and drove up County Road 14, into the Uncompahgre National Forest. The dirt road passed a few private communities and large gated homes, before entering the mountainous forest beyond. After a few miles, we reached a rough river crossing which would have made for an uncomfortable experience. Fortunately we had driven past a few campsites in which we could spend the night, and so we drove back to a flat riverside spot, started a campfire, and spent the evening drinking bourbon, roasting marshmallows, and listening to the roar of the river.
In the morning we walked some of the Dexter Creek trail, before heading back into Ouray for a day of luxury. We started with a soak in the public hot springs, before indulging in beer, ice cream, and finally more hot springs. After a day of relaxation and indulgence, we drove back up County Road 14, and spent another night in the forest. In the morning we crossed the river on foot, and walked up the rest of the road. There are small number of campsites beyond the river, but fairly quickly the road gets extremely steep and poorly maintained; at the end of the road is parking area for a trailhead. After our walk we descended to the highway, and headed north towards Ridgway.
Beyond Ouray, it had been our intention to continue north to the Grand Mesa National Forest. However it was now July 3rd, and not wishing to waste our first experience of Independence Day in the wilderness, we diverted at Ridgway and headed back into the mountains to Telluride. Staying with our generous host in Flagstaff many weeks earlier, Mark had recommended Telluride as a cool place to be on July 4th. At the time we though it extremely unlikely that fortune would have us near telluride on the correct date, but luck was on our side and so we took the opportunity.
We found a place to park at the far end of town, and headed onto Main Street to explore. Telluride has a lot going on for such a small town, and we had no trouble entertaining ourselves for the day. We spent the afternoon at a free rock concert in Mountain Village, a ski resort connected to telluride by a free-to-ride telecabine.
Not wishing to offend any of our neighbours by starting July the 4th with the wafting odours of an English breakfast, we made a huge stack of pancakes, and gorged ourselves until late morning with a mixture of pancakes, maple syrup and blueberries. At 11am we wandered into town to watch the annual parade. I had expected a traditional American display of patriotism, and to some extent I got it, but the affair was much more laid back and humorous than I’d expected. Instead of flag waving marching bands, I got a stream of exotic cars and bikes, and even a green dog on a skateboard. After the procession most of the crowd ambled down to the town park to eat the BBQ put on by the Telluride Fire Department. By the time we got to the park, the queue was several miles long. Fearing that I may have perished from malnutrition by the time we reached the front of the queue, we returned to town, found a bar-side seat at the Smuggler’s Brewpub, and settled in for the afternoon.
Later in the day, we wandered around town looking for a different establishment at which to buy dinner. We had been recommended the Brown Dog Pizza restaurant, and the menu certainly was enticing, but the July 4th crowd had finished off the restaurants stock of pizza dough, and so we left empty handed. As we meandered through back streets looking for a place to eat, we stumbled across the tail-end of a local block party, and were insistently given a burger each and some lemon tart by the local residents.
In the evening we sat on the roof of the truck and watched as a three year stash of fireworks was released in the local park. The previous two years’ displays had been cancelled due to the fire risk, and so the display was quite a spectacle. Boris’s previous nonchalant response to fireworks had been ruined by the relentless barrage of explosives set off by church’s in Mexico, and he stood quivering in fear throughout the display.
On our second morning in Telluride, disaster struck. On turning the tap on for my morning shower, instead of the usual steamy mixture, all I got was tepid water. The soundproofing in the compartment for the Webasto water heater means that it is fairly quiet in operation and as usual I had slept through the hour it runs early in the morning to heat the water in the calorifier; I therefore had no idea whether the heater had fired up and operated correctly. Manually turning the heater on at the controller, it was clear that something was wrong. The exhaust is usually clear and largely odourless, but this time I got a thick stream of white exhaust smoke, smelling strongly of unburnt diesel. After less than five minutes, the exhaust smoke had not cleared, and the unit shut down prematurely, without having heated the water. Repeating the attempt to start the heater, the same thing happened, and I had to abandon my hope of a hot shower until I had fixed whatever the problem was.
Suspecting that I would have to take the burner apart to assess the problem, and not having a set of gaskets with which to reassemble it with, I bought a tube of high temperature copper silicon goo at the local ACE hardware store. I did not fancy draining the coolant circuit, and taking the heater apart whilst on the side of a busy road through town and so we got back on the road and left Telluride behind us. We returned the way we had come to Ridgway, and once back on highway 550, we headed north towards the Grand Mesa National Forest.
No comments:
Post a Comment