Day 12 of 178 - Ouray, Colorado

HOO-RAY FOR OURAY!!  (YOU-ray or you-RAY ... it's a personal preference)  In September of 2008, Diedre and I spent her birthday weekend in this lovely little town.  During a walk, we happened by a wonderful RV park in town located right on the Uncompahgre River. I think that may have been the start of our RV desires.

      After arriving Sunday and setting-up (Diedre on the inside, me on the outside as the good lord intended), we decided to walk the 4-block long town and look for dinner.  In keeping with the John Wayne theme that dominated our time in Monument Valley, we had dinner with John Wayne's hat that night.  Don't worry, I'll explain.  About 45 years ago during the filming of the original "True Grit" movie, the Duke stopped in to the Outlaws Restaurant in Ouray.  When he left the restaurant, a waitress chased after him, exclaiming, "Mr. Wayne!  You forgot your hat!"  Big John replied, "That's DUKE, little lady.  Why don't you just keep it until I come back."  So they tacked it up above the bar and there it has resided lo these last 45 years.  I don't think he's coming back.

     On the drive that day, Diedre's head cold started.  If history teaches us anything, besides the fact that Germans are not that good in a World War, it's that my cold won't be far behind.  Sure enough, by Tuesday my full-blown cold came to stay for the rest of the week.

     The big excitement Monday morning when I made my way to the campground showers was that during the night, a wayward small black bear decided he needed to freshen up.  The door to the men's showers was knocked off its hinges.  Very impressive.  I'm just glad for the bear's safety that he didn't come anywhere near AB1; my 9-pound Birman attack cat, Casey, would probably have torn him to shreds.

   Monday's day trip was to the equally enthralling little town of Telluride.  Wife Diedre was taken with the burg enough that she enacted an old habit where she decided we needed to move there right away.  She's done that also with Scotland, Victoria, and, strangely enough, Tijuana.  In Telluride, we had a great happy hour at Smuggler's, one of the few places open that day.   

Diedre couldn't pass up this t-shirt from Smuggler's that combined cats, beer and sunglasses!

Our lesson learned: no day trips on Mondays if you want to actually go inside a shop or pub.

     Tuesday, with a pair of colds in full battle array, we decided to just replenish our massive RV pantry with a little grocery shopping.  Note that in the previous two weeks, I had not spied one newspaper (except the "The Navajo Times") and Diedre had not garnered a whiff of one Starbucks in either Monument Valley or Ouray (Is that even possible?).  Fortunately, we went 10 miles away to the teeming metropolis of Ridgway, twice as big as Ouray (Ridgway had 1 stoplight to Ouray's 0).  Sure enough, I found a "Denver Post" at the grocery store and Diedre had her first good cup of coffee in weeks at the world famous and only existing "Cimarron Bookstore Coffeehouse."  Her irritability and my general lack of knowledge quickly abated.

     Wednesday I made a return trip to Ridgway.  An old college chum and basketball star who goes by the sole name of "Strauss" had an article in the "Retirement section" of that day's "New York Times."  Just like Paris, Chicago, and Los Angeles, the NY Times is required reading in Ridgway.  Since all of you reading this are either at or near retirement age, I'm making this required reading.

Box Canon Falls

     While wandering aimlessly around Ridgway, I learned that the little town was the home of "Gunsmoke's" Dennis Weaver ("MARSHALL DILLON!  MARSHALL DILLON!")  And it was also the site of many outdoor scenes for the aforementioned movie "True Grit."  So like any good cinephile (I hope that's the right word), I made my way to The True Grit Cafe, where the John Wayne theme of our trip thundered on.  The really amazing thing about this area, which includes Ouray, Telluride, and now Ridgway, is that no matter where you walk in town, you're surrounded by sunny skies, temps in the 70s, yet all the while snow is still covering the mountains off in the distance.

     Back in Ouray, we gamely hiked up to the top of the incredible Box Canyon Falls.  We had done this climb in September of 2008.  Is there any way they could have made it higher in the intervening 4+ years?  The sad highlight of this trip for me was that I mainly remembered from the previous ascension a blue house at the base of the falls.  Check out the before and after photos. 

Sept. 23, 2008

May 15, 2013

     That night, we met up with Englishwoman Angela Goodacre; our meet-cute was set up by Angela's grade-school chum and our close Terravita friend and neighbor, Lesley King.  We learned that the recently retired Angela is a rock/mountain climber as is her husband, who amazingly enough, is slated to climb to the summit of the granite monolith and one of the world's favorite challenges, Yosemite's El Capitan, at the age of 70 (her husband is 70, not El Capitan; it's got to be at least a hundred).  I get tired just climbing the 3 steps into our RV.

Angela, Alexx, Diedre at O'Briens in Ouray

     Oh, but our big news that day was ... wait for it ... THE FIRST SALE OF MY BOOK!!  (Some guy in Arkansas ... go figure)

     Yes, the ever-clever Diedre had posted an opportunity for people to purchase the book as soon as it becomes available through a Paypal Button on the blog (www.FastestGunInHollywood.blogspot.com in case you're mildly interested in more of my drivel). We expect the shipment of books will arrive some mysterious time in late June.

     But the really good news  (Wait? There's more?) was regarding our favorite chocolate manufacturer in the world, Mouse's in Ouray, whose chocolates were a thing of ecstasy for me but a joy I thought I had lost since the big Diabetes scare of 2011.  Diedre, being the kind and caring woman she is, decided I could try a glucose (blood-sugar) reading after a sampling of Mouse's sublime chocolate toffee (dark chocolate and definitely not sugar-free).  She figured out some way in that food-voo-doo-she-do-so well, that I might be able to re-partake of this little bit of heaven.  The pre-toffee glucose reading (in which I have to savagely rip into my tender skin for a blood droplet) was 95; miraculously, the post-toffee reading an hour later was 106.  Anything less than a 20-point increase means it's OK for me to ingest reasonable amounts, "reasonable" being a term Diedre and I are having mediated.  So, as Bill Murray said in "Caddyshack," "At least I got that going for me."

      Thursday we celebrated our last day in Ouray ... by making the treacherous 24-mile trip to the old mining town of Silverton.  14 of the miles were on a razor thin strip of 2-lane road with no guard rails, virtually no shoulders, but with an ample supply of 1,000-foot drop offs.  I suggested Diedre close her eyes as I did during the really scary parts.  Of course, I was driving, so that effort had negligible results. 

Alexx is aware of the Avalanche warning

Diedre contemplates leaving on the next train.

So this is the Notorious Blair Street!

     In the 1800's, Silverton's rough and tough night life was divided in half.  Respectable folk resided on Greene Street while the notorious Blair Street was well known for being home to the degenerate side of life:  whores, gamblers, THEATRE folk ... wait, what?! ... and those broads who wore the red hats (OK, that was from my play "Murder at Savings & Loan Ballpark, aka SLoB"; I just couldn't resist.  It's a favorite gag of mine.) 

My thoughts of the soiled doves of a bygone era drove Diedre into the arms of another man.

     So it's Friday now and we're leaving for the Denver suburb of Larkspur, home of 8 of Diedre's relatives and nearby to a senior softball pal (You know, senior softball guys probably belong on the notorious Blair Street in Silverton.)  Larkspur really has to be on top of its game if it wants to compete with the incredible scenery we've experienced so far in Monument Valley and Ouray.  Let the games begin.

    Let me leave this part of the blog with these wise words for you from the bathroom walls at The True Grit Cafe: 

"Never squat with your spurs on."

OUCH!

     See you next week.
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