Cactused: Grand Junction, CO

I hadn’t considered the desert aspect of Colorado until I was in the thick of it. Before Grand Junction, Colorado meant Denver, Colorado Springs and huge mountains. Tim Tebow knelt to the earth here. Men and women who’s governors will vouch for their character can go to the Air Force Academy out this way.

Until I moved to Chicago, I also thought Wisconsin was an exotic wilderness. Like Montana. But I was tricked (ignorant)! It’s more like Ohio.

We picked Marissa up that morning on campus and she gave us a quick tour around. Apparently Colorado Mesa University is the fastest growing school in Colorado. Being that it was a Sunday, we didn’t witness this population influx. Just a steady flow of hung-over dorm kids, heads hung low, marching toward the place where breakfast food is kept.

All the buildings are just about brand new. We had the dog so we didn’t go inside, but it looked impressive nonetheless. 

There was a life-size metal statue of a bull out front that got its metal butt sniffed by Dodger. I didn’t act fast enough to get a picture and I regret that everyday. 

Next, off to the Grand Mesa. 

Not quite up the Mesa, you get a good view of Powderhorn (a local ski spot). There is also (what
I imagine to be) an awesome overlook on the very farthest tip of the mountain,
but the road remains impassable until June. 

This is the world’s tallest flat-top mountain. As you drive to the top, the temperature drops about 20 degrees and the shrubs, heat and sand morph into 6 feet of snow, giant evergreens, and frozen lakes. 

The flat-top aspect of the mountain makes it prime territory for cross country skiers and snow mobiles. Marissa didn’t bring a car to college and had never been up this way before. Forty-something miles and 7,000 feet of elevation change makes for a sad day on a bike. 

Grand Junction is yonder.

Hello fuzz ball. 

He was only smiling because I had a rock in my shoe and put a big scratch in his car when I stood on the hood.
I claimed innocence but he he had watched me do it. I still claimed innocence. 

A flat top for XC skiers. 

Down there, you'll find the blazing desert.

We headed down and stopped randomly on the side of the highway to hike a nearby canyon. This is why Rob and I had to leave Chicago for a while. If you stop on the side of the road in Chicago, you’ll get to explore the ditch trash. 

Or maybe a strip mall. 

The mud river, and Marissa's mark. 

Cactused.

Ignore the dog.

Dodger and Rob have become one with the desert. 

Water beast. 

Dodger sat like this for a long time and licked beer cooler ice.

Finally rolled back into town, inhaled some Chipotle, and prepared to head to the other side of town for a trip up the Colorado National Monument. 

It was getting too late to hike, but we thought we would park the car in a good spot on the plateau and watch all the lights come on down in the Grand Junction valley. A dust storm had kicked up a haze of red sand, but it was still an awesome view. Good end to a good visit. 

View admiring. 

Right at about dusk, as we were parked and settled in to watch lights, Rob ducked over the side rail on the cliff to take a leak. 

Suddenly, Marissa and I watch a cloud of dust filter up from Rob’s chosen location. We jump out of the car because CLEARLY HE HAS FALLEN TO HIS DEATH.

That was not the case, but it was pretty wild. He accidentally dirt-surfed a good 15 feet.

I have two more things to say about southwestern Colorado.

• They have roads here with numbers. I get that. “Highway 50." Ok. They have roads here with letters. “Road G." Different, but ok. They also have roads here like “C and 2/3^rd." What does that even mean?

• In the Colorado Desert, precipitation is rare. It rarely rains. It rarely snows. When Rob and I woke up on Monday, it was raining and snowing. What does that even mean?

...and so we packed up, drenched and numb, to head to Glendale, Arizona (where the temperature was 80-something). 

...snow.