We left early 6/12 by car. It started out hot and sunny; but the weather soon changed. We went through some storms and several areas that had been badly flooded, with lots of topsoil washing away from farmland in great, rushing, runoff streams, and, in many places, with debris up into the roadway.

We passed a swollen river that probably normally is barely a trickle or even a dry bed. It was noteworthy because there was a man in it, half-swimming, half-wading, and holding onto his pickup truck, which was half-floating in the stream. In and around the storms, the skies were very neat, with magnificent cloud formations.

We got into Amarillo about 6 PM, expecting to enjoy a motel room there for the night. However, the Jehovah's Witnesses were having a big convention in town; and we found no rooms at the inn, nor even any in a manger, for us and our doggy.

We drove on to Dumas (which we believe is pronounced "DUMB-ASS"), where they had heard about the Amarillo motel situation and had doubled their room rates, since lots of other folks like us were scrambling for anything available. We considered ourselves lucky to get a somewhat adequate space by 9:30 PM, for only about $50.

Along the way to Dumas, we saw several pronghorns.

On 6/13, we got underway before 8 AM. Temperatures were cool, in the 50's; and the sky was sunny. Things warmed up some later, but, like the day before, the weather was moderated by rain at intervals. We saw more pronghorns plus some elk! At the entrance to a mountain pass tunnel, a motorcycle lay on its side in the road, pieces of it in several adjacent places, apparently its driver having just lost control on the wet pavement. He did not seem badly hurt. Others had already stopped to help out. We drove on.

We passed a deer road kill, with several large vultures on or near the carcass, competing for the choicest bits.

By 12:30 PM, heading west in CO, we passed a 14,500' peak. It had surprisingly little snow. Later we learned the whole area had had only a little more that half its normal precipitation this past winter. We arrived at the Continental Divide. Here were freshly uncovered mats of vegetation which had been packed down for months. The heavy snow was now just barely melted enough to uncover them, but not so long ago that new growth had begun.

At about 5:30, we reached Durango and registered at a motel with a nice room and a charming, mountain-fed stream at a secluded little park in back. We all enjoyed this, but Pepper especially. (We would later be back at this motel, with our same room, toward the end of our vacation.)

On 6/14, we headed north to reestablish a personal relationship with the mountains. Our first stop was at a gorgeous overlook, about half-way to Silverton and 11,000 feet in elevation. We decided to walk around there awhile. Fran was doing OK, but Pepper had, immediately on being released from her leash, turned into a climbing-sniffing-running fool, oblivious to the altitude or her nearly ten years of doggy life. Clearly there's nothing wrong with her heart, lungs, or joints! (Meanwhile, I was getting sunburned, had sharp, low back pain, and, with just a few minutes' gradual-slope hiking, was out of breath and felt my heart pounding madly. Oh well.)

After the tent (a large, hand-me-down gift from Fran's folks) was put up in our favorite camping area (at 10,000') and our campsite was in some order, we set off on a couple hikes. The first was a shorty, to a phenomenally beautiful gorge, with fantastic waterfalls.

But that one did not take long. So, we set off on another, more strenuous climb. We soon were struggling up steep grades in the midst of a thunderstorm and getting drenched, despite our poncho and rain jacket. We kept going and going and going, but, unlike the Energizer Bunny, finally had to stop when snow got too thick on the trail for us to complete the way to the summit.

On the trip back down, we got so cold that I developed mild hypothermia. My joints would not work right anymore and I could not stop shaking enough to even stand up to pee! The camp stove would not work right either. We later learned it had bad fuel. All three of our little party were trembling with the cold and did not warm up till we'd been snuggling under warm covers or sleeping bags for awhile. Meanwhile, the rains continued. The tent leaked badly.

The next day, 6/15, we were all feeling a lot better. We enjoyed hot, restaurant breakfasts in Silverton and got some new fuel for the burner (which then worked fine the rest of our camping stay). We also did more hiking near the first dramatic overlook. There were some great views; and the climbing was not terribly challenging.

As soon as we got back to our site, however, the rainstorms began again. Despite this, we made a campfire. Then Fran fixed a nice meal over it for supper.

The wildlife had been neat thus far, but as yet was not spectacular.

In the AM, on 6/16, my back and right knee were giving me fits again. I took my poor ol' bod into Silverton once more and had a nice visit over breakfast with an "old-timer" who told of "the good ol' days" in the area. He said they normally get about 220 inches (18+ feet!) of snow a year; and that's just in Silverton, which sits in a little valley. On the peaks the snowfall must be much greater. I enjoyed another good meal and did more of our shopping. On my way back to our site, I stopped at several beautiful views of a mountain stream that also, earlier in its course, flows right by our tent (only about four feet away). I hiked around a little in the valley that includes our camping area, enjoying sightings of marmots, ground-squirrels, plus many interesting birds, and gathered an interesting rock or two for Mom.

That evening we again got a great fire going. We now had campsite neighbors; but they were generally quiet and unobtrusive.

The night of 6/16-6/17 was the worst so far for my slumbers and sore bod. I had by now decided that sleeping on the ground in a wet, cold tent was not as much fun as when I was fifteen or even fifty. During the few days of our camping experience, I got up (won't say "awoke," as that would imply a real snooze) each day with a very painful lower back and sometimes sore knees as well. Sleep usually eluded me in the long stretches till daybreak. This morning I was rather distressed, so discouraged I almost vowed never to go camping again. The site by now was also saturated from the many, relentless, day and night storms. The tent seemed to have not just puddles but vast ponds that lapped up against the sides and soaked the bottoms of much of the bedding. If I had to get up in the middle of the night, it was generally into a driving rain.

Despite this inauspicious beginning, Thursday, 6/17, would turn out to be a great time for us. The morning was so wet, with storms continuing, that even Fran became discouraged and, as with me the first night at the site, her joints were not functioning well.

I suggested a trip to Ouray, a nearby scenic community in the mountains, but far enough away for us to warm up in the car. We agreed and set off. Once on the road and a few miles from our camp, the weather cleared up. The views were stupendous. We also had a nice lunch in the picturesque town.

One especially neat thing from that hike, besides Pepper going absolutely berserk chasing marmots everywhere, was being high enough to see ravens flying by in great majestic arcs below us. This seemed really a cool sight as the birds swept past the high peaks and greeted one another with their primeval calls.

Friday, 6/18, saw us heading back from the campsite toward our motel room in Durango, stopping off along the way for a little more hiking, this time around a mountain lake, where, also really neat, three ducks flew past, so close we could hear the unique whistle of the wind through their powerfully beating wings. Again, some of the sights were amazingly beautiful.

On our way back too, we stopped at a ski resort area where previously, in the wild, in some then isolated valleys, we had seen herds of elk and even a black bear. To our dismay, we found the valleys were now developed for fishermen and campers and far less attractive as large animal habitat. We were successful, nonetheless, in finding several elk, not at all tame, a thrilling sight!

That evening we tried again for sightings at the "elk valleys," to no avail. There were, instead, four-wheel-drive, off-the-road vehicles, dirt-bikers, utility trucks, and horse-trailers, in a mad, frenzied cacophony going on all 'round, plus campers and fishermen, their dogs, and their families all scattered through the valleys, but no big game.

We then simply drove around some of the less used roadways in the ski resort area. Now we began to have some real joy for the day! With a combination of occasional stops in pretty places and sightings either from the road or right in front of us (as graceful, great beasts leaped out from among the trees and hurled themselves across our route), we saw fresh bear tracks, marmots, ground-squirrels, male mule deer, female and baby mule deer, huge, male elk within fifty feet, other elk further away, etc. These were often thrillingly close and beautiful sightings.

The next day, 6/20, our last before the return journey, we tried one road into a low mountain; but it became too bad a route. We had to turn 'round. We did stop at a high overlook above the lovely Animas River, that flows through Durango. Later, after a picnic next to that same river, now a torrential mountain stream flowing past a city park, we headed up north about 25-30 miles and went to Scout Lake, a large beaver pond. There we saw, close up, a baby beaver, a snake, coots, ducks, and red-winged blackbirds, all in a natural, charming setting surrounded by mountains. An approaching storm added to the dramatic effect and made for some good photography.

That evening saw us back at one of the "elk valleys," for one last try! We decided to wait out some hikers and a fisherman, with their respective dogs, already in there when we arrived. At last they left. After about two and a half hours, we finally saw, relatively close to our car, a lone elk cow grazing in the valley.

On 6/21-6/22, we returned to Austin. Our trio was by now really tired; but we still watched from the vehicle windows for neat animals, catching glimpses of more elk, marmots, pronghorns, and then, shortly before we pulled into our town once again, a single white-tailed deer. Along the way, we had also seen a variety of "exotics," from ranches that specialized in such neat animals, including: ostriches, emus, an axis deer, gazelles, and llamas.

In early evening, on 6/22, we got back to our house and gardens, discovering that, in the interim, our yard, with recent rains there as well, had become a jungle, the grass six to eight inches high, the mosquitoes seemingly large and numerous enough to carry Pepper off if they'd wanted to, and the vines having grown easily six or more feet in all directions while we were away.

Overall the trip had been fun; but it was also good to get back and relax awhile, before regular work would resume the following week.

We have some wonderful territory in this country. We hope some of it remains relatively untouched.

On our trip, Pepper wore her paws down to bloody, raw pads and often slept like the dead, but still eagerly set off on each of our hikes and would not, ever, be held back from giving the experience her absolute all. Surprisingly, though, she was also the first to fully recover once we'd gotten back, seemingly oblivious to the "lowlander," sauna-like climate we faced back home, while Fran and I continued to slowly, sleepily adjust to hot, humid air again and to the gradual improvement of sore muscles, sliced fingers, and sunburns.

We think, though, we can handle a trip like that again, perhaps even sooner than the five years it had taken since the last one.