Into Utah
21 March 2024
It’s another cold, clear morning in Colorado and there’s one last place to visit before crossing over into Utah.
The Mesa Verde National Park features an elaborate series of 12th-century caves, carved out of the rock on both sides of a steep gorge that were the basis of a community. The most elaborate of these is the ‘Cliff Palace’ which looks more like a small village than a single dwelling. It’s a wonder, all right, but unless this is your Mastermind specialist subject, you will have had your fill after a quarter of an hour of squinting at it from the viewing platform.
To get there requires tackling an entertaining road, south of 160, that is a 23-mile carnival of twists and turns and worth the $26 you have to stump up to enter the National Park. But as I’ve bought an ‘America the Beautiful’ card for $79, it’s free, just as the Great Dunes were a couple of days ago. It’s well worth getting one of these cards, for even the shortest road trips. I reckon I’ll be beyond break-even within a couple of days, given what lies ahead.
I journey through the impressively-titled ‘Canyons of the Ancients’ without seeing anything ancient other than the odd rusted truck on cinder blocks. The visitors centre implies any sights worth seeing are a good hour’s hike from the main route, so not for me.
As Colorado peters out into endless, straight roads, just ahead lies Utah. After a few miles, weird red rock formations - honed by millions of years of wind and rain - start to appear. As you go on, there’s more, each vista being more impressive than the last until it becomes the norm.
Moab is a curiosity. At first glance, it looks much like every other US small town. Straight main drag with all the familiar leitmotifs of modern America on display: Pizza Hut, Days Inn, Taco Bell, Quality Suites, Starbucks - the full deck. But as I wandered out for dinner, it became apparent Moab enjoys the most extraordinary location, sat in a gentle bowl of giant, red cliffs and then it didn’t seem so humdrum at all.
Moab is a thriving tourist town which means venues like ‘Desert Bistro’ have a ready market. Bison Au Poivre is one of the specials and even at $68 (plus tax plus service so that’s $90 in practice), it’s a must. Oh yes, and some gooey, bacon-wrapped dates to start with. Leaving aside the considerable skills of the kitchen bison is a revelation. Dense but buttery smooth and the flavour…
Well, as Dailey who served me said: “You can’t go back to steak after this”. I explain I have no choice, as we have no herds of bison, sweeping majestically across the Essex Plains to hunt but, I do get her drift.
Dailey also suggested a tweak to my planned route tomorrow. This was to be Dead Horse Point, now renamed the ‘Thelma & Louise Viewpoint’ to commemorate the film’s final, unforgettable scene. Dailey’s lived here her whole life and is adamant that although it’s a good choice, it’s the wrong choice. Instead, she suggests the ‘Las Sales Loop’, followed by ‘The Needles’ before getting on for Blanding.
There is an entertaining set of framed, alternative dictionary definitions adorning the walls of the Derailed Pour House in Durango. One suggests a ‘Vegetarian’ is an ancient Latin word meaning “Really bad hunter” and the phrase ‘Oh Cool’ actually means “I really couldn’t care less about what you just said and wish you would just shut the fuck up”. There’s another, that of an ‘Askhole’ who constantly asks for advice and then does the opposite. Keen to avoid being one of these, I’ve just plotted a complex route that doggedly follows Dailey’s advice.
