Way West: Moffat County

The soreness and stiffness in my ankle woke me up as I rolled over. Yesterday really did a number on my right ankle. 10 miles on a beat up horse and cow trail had been rough. So worth every second. Incredible fall colors, hard relentless climbing, a steep descent, and Luna flushing some grouse made for trail magic. My ankle creaked and crunched like a rusted hinge that needed some WD-40. I stood up in my sleeping bag and it slid down my body. I balanced on one foot. My sore ankle wobbled with my body’s weight. I slipped on my chaco flip flops and then switched my balance to the other foot. This ankle was stronger. With both flip flops on I walked across the campsite, ducking under pinyon trees. A soft yellow light filtered between the branches illuminating the rich green of the pinyon needles. I ran my hand along the sides of the truck, tracing the outline of the dent in the back right side as I passed. A light layer of dust coated my hand. I lifted the handle of the tailgate and lowered it forming the counter of my camp kitchen. I’ve always done some of my best work here. 

I rummaged thru the camp cooking bin and pulled out the small silver alcohol stove, the kettle, the fuel, the Melita size 2 filters, and the drip cone. The urge for coffee is intense in the morning for me. I love waking up and making coffee. Boiling the water, pouring the water over the grounds and watching the cone filter drip and drizzle a liquid symbolic of morning's potential and possibility. I find good spirit and strength from within from many places and that first sip of freshly brewed coffee is one of those spots. I like mine with chocolate almond milk, so fancy. The almond milk swirled round like a spiral galaxy and effortlessly blended into the dark black coffee. The brew faded to a roasted brown as the almond milk softened the coffee’s rich bitterness.

The stiffness persisted through breakfast. Jersey was stiff as well. I looked at him laying in the dust. I smiled and said, “We’re getting old buddy. We just don’t bounce back like we used too huh?” Luna bounded across the camp in search of rabbits to chase. I was a bit jealous of her rubber band like springiness and her youthful athletic energy. Jersey slowly stood, shook the dust from his black and brown fur, and limped over to the water bowl. His legs shook as he lowered his head down to the water bowl. He slapped his tongue against the water and messily drank a few sips. He looked up. Water dripped from his mouth. He slowly strolled back to his spot. He spun a few times trying to find just the right fit for the spot he had cleared for himself. He lowered his hips achingly and plopped down with a thud.  I knew there would be no running for us today. I loaded the truck and headed down the ridge towards the Yampa River.  

There was no one at the hot springs. Crumbling concrete pools were all that remained after years of neglect. The place reminded me of Roman ruins I had seen in Morocco.  I grabbed my thermos of coffee and headed to the back bath house where the hottest water was. The pocked and cracked concrete pricked my feet as I walked past the larger cooler pools. A small bit of steam rose and dissipated in the open air. I stripped and slipped into the water. Soaking nude alone is peaceful. I floated, stretched, and sipped my coffee as clouds drifted by overhead. My body felt loose and carefree. Feeling healed and ready to tackle the day I air dried, put on some bike clothes and drove over to Duffy Mountain. 

I rode a scenic 12 mile loop up and across the mountain racing the storm clouds pouring over the Danforth Hills north of Meeker. The winds picked up as I turned on County Road 17. I got the bike on the rack and sat on the tailgate drinking a corona. The bottle’s cold feel radiated thru my body and chilled me as the powerful sun tanned my bare skin. The bottle dripped with condensation and melted ice from the cooler. Small broken bits of ice slowly slid down the clear glass. The golden liquid shone in the light. I smiled at Jersey and Luna vigorously digging in the sagebrush. They make such a good team. I thought to myself, “Drinking a corona is like drinking sunshine.”  

As the beer’s buzz set in, I enjoyed watching the Virga sweep across the Axial Basin. The rain evaporated in a dry layer of air before it could reach the ground, but I knew that as the storm soaked and saturated the air those sweeping tentacles below the clouds would be on top of me soon. I finished my beer and called to the dogs, “Let’s load up pups!” Jersey and Luna stopped their digging and trotted over to the truck. Luna sprang into the cab, walked across the driver’s seat into the passenger seat leaving dirty pawprints right in my spot. I shook my head and said sarcastically, “Thanks, Lu.” I hoisted Jersey in the back of the cab. The rain fell in heavy drops on the drive.

I stripped down in the truck cab and stashed my clothes on the floor of the passenger seat. Making a quick stop at the cooler for another beer, I raced to the pools. I skipped the stairs to avoid anymore exposure to the cold rain and jumped right in. I floated around giggling to myself about how I felt like I was making kombucha with all the algae. The rain soaked my hair  and ran down my face. The thunder was muffled by the water and the gently bubbling of the hot springs drifted me across memories and adventures and to a place that I've been searching for, a place that I know isn't out there, it's within myself. 

Back at camp I felt refreshed, but the water left a slippery feel and sulfur smell on my skin. I poured a cup of fresh water from my camp cistern over my head. I frothed the peppermint soap and soaped up. The sun broke through the clouds as I rinsed. The warm rays calmed some of my shivers. As the soaped drained away forming mud at my feet I felt alive. Naked, wet, cold from the crispness in the fall breeze and from the tingling of the peppermint soap yet warm at heart from the sun's rays and the incredible scenery, I felt content and thankful for every second of my fun day.