By Friday morning, the weather forecast over Wheeler
Geological Area had improved enough that we decided to make a run for it. We
were both eager to see the place. Joe had heard of Wheeler a few years back and
had since then been dreaming of setting foot among the hoodoos and other rock
formations. The few pictures I had seen of the area had definitely picked my
interest. I couldn't wait to set my tripod and my 8x10 camera to see how the
landscape would translate into tintypes. I was especially curious about the
tonal relationships of red and white rocks in the final images.
The big unknown for us was the 14-mile ride up to wheeler.
Everything we had read about it made Joe excited and I a little nervous. Here
is a description by Donal Prothero I had found on the blog,
www.skepticblog.org, prior to leaving:"First you must drive almost 20 miles up a decent
gravel road from 8000 feet to 11,000 feet to the site of an old abandoned
sawmill near Pool Table Mountain. Then there is another 13 miles over one of
the worst “roads” I’d ever traveled on, followed by a hard hike at over 12,000
feet in elevation, to reach it." Donal goes on: "For the next 2 hours
over 13 excruciating miles, I was thrown back and forth like a rag doll, one of
the most joint-jolting, bone-jarring, groin-crushing, whiplashing experiences I
have ever endured."
Somewhere else I had read that the road is
impassable when wet. Unfortunately all the information I had found pertained to
4x4 cars or ATVs, no comments or feedbacks from motorcycle riders. I was
starting to have the sneaking suspicion that no adventure rider ever made it
back from Wheeler alive...
Anyhow our Friday was to be spent reaching the
Hanson's Mill, which is the starting point of the 14-mile ride. We crossed the
valley east to west on farm roads. On this soft and sandy terrain, my front
tire would "float" over the dirt and my motorcycle would swing side
to side in a manner that made me slightly uneasy. (I am sure you can tell by
now that my experience in off-road riding is not that extensive). We made it across
the San Luis Valley with no incidents and found ourselves in La Garita.
Time
for a well deserved break at the La Garita Cash Store. The place was amazing!
The outside of the building stated it all "Groceries Gas Oil, Cafe open
for breakfast and lunch, National Forest warden". It was bound to be the
center of life in this little community. When Joe and I entered, everybody
looked at us and fell silent. I had seen this scene in many movies but hadn't
experienced it myself, it threw me off a little bit. As most characters in that
situation, I pretended not to notice and walked straight to the counter where I
ordered a coffee. I knew it would be delicious when it came to me in a spotless
white Styrofoam cup. We sat outside for a while, just long enough to give the
locals time to forget about us. I would pick inside every once in a while, I
liked what I saw so much that I asked Joe if he wanted to have lunch there. We both
ordered Phylli cheese steak sandwiches and salad. We were given two styrofoam
bowls and directed to the salad bar. The entire offerings took about a fourth
of the salad bar: a bowl of salad that could have come directly from my kitchen
a few sides and bottles of dressings. Looking at my bemused face, Joe stated
that this was probably fresher that most salad bars' offerings. He was right,
everything tasted delicious.
We found a table in the main dinning room. I
really wanted to spend time looking at the decor and people and soaking it all
in. To me it was an incredible pleasure to be in an atmosphere that stood out
of time. It could have been the 30's, the 70's it was obviously the 10's... I
didn't think places like this still existed. Stereo - typical Americana.
Dozen of polaroids had been tacked to the ceiling
beams (which stood 6 ft high, no more). They were organized by year, from 2005
to 2009. They depicted hunters with their kills, usually still on the back of
their pick-up trucks. The caption would state the name of the hunter, the date,
the age of the dead elk. So much pride in the faces (of the hunters)... I
believe that after 2009, the elks rebelled against the slaughter and started
posting pictures of their own in their hangout. The population of hunters
quickly decreasing...
Beside this, the decor was quite charming. But
the best were the people, locals relaxing, shooting the breeze, taking notes of
each other's news. At some point, the cook left his grill sat at a table and
enjoyed a leisurely discussion with his customers. Until the woman in charge
asked: "Are we done cooking for the day, then ?" Obviously not, since
she was handing him a couple orders from the latest customers.
My favorite part of the entire experience came
when we left. Outside was parked a pimped-up ATV that wasn't there earlier.
Since the only people coming in after us were two middle-aged ladies
accompanied by a 12-year old girl, all dressed in quaker style outfits, they
must have ridden in the ATV. I just couldn't (and still can't) reconcile the
two pictures: the old fashions dresses, the very proper women and their mode of
transportation.
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| A place not to miss if you are in La Garita. |
We took some souvenir pictures and left for Del
Norte, onward to South Fork and to Hanson Mills crossroad. I believe we got to
the dispersed campsite around 5 pm. The place was gorgeous, very lush.
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| Campsite at Hanson Mills, saturday morning. |
Although the evening's sky had been overcast, we were treated to a beautiful sunset.
Next morning, we woke up above the clouds.
Wearing hearts on my boots.
Onward to Wheeler through 14 miles of mud, rocks, water crossings, pastures and pine forests...
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