October 10, 2016
When I was younger, I loved to travel. Seeing different parts of the country and world was interesting and exciting, and I was always ready to go at the drop of a hat. Now, I would be content to stay within 25 miles of home for the remainder of my days on earth. But my wife still likes to leave the home farm once every couple of years, and she usually wants to take me with her. So …
We just returned from eight days traveling through the desert southwest, and I suppose it was good for me. Along our way, we got to experience the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest of Arizona before witnessing the majesty of the Grand Canyon. We explored an ancient Chacoan village in New Mexico, had our picture taken while standing in four states at one time, and were overwhelmed by the size and vastness of the Great Sand Dunes of Colorado. After enjoying a train ride through the Rocky Mountains, we decided to find a nice, quiet, little town and spend a couple of days there before making the arduous trip home. Enter: La Junta, Colo.
Located in the southeastern part of that state, and surrounded by the high desert plains, it seemed like an ideal spot to rest and relax, until Judy (aided by the chamber of commerce brochures) decided that she would like to visit the largest collection of fossilized dinosaur tracks in the world. The directions were a little vague, but it looked like one would have to drive 26 miles on dirt roads to get there, and I warned Judy that her fancy little sports car might not be acclimated to the terrain.
“Oh, I’m not worried,” she said. “You know how to change a tire.”
Granted, I haven’t driven on many dirt roads for any length since I was a teenager, but I don’t remember them being that rough and rutty. At an average speed of 15 miles per hour, we were able to take in the scenery offered by cactus, sagebrush and tumbleweeds. Occasionally, we’d spy a small group of antelope as they took advantage of the watering tanks beside windmills that were scattered every 5 miles or so, to provide water for the cattle that roamed the hundreds of thousands of acres of free range. Just seeing a cow pie in the road, every so often, made me homesick.
When we finally arrived at the entrance to the dinosaur tracks, there was only a nice restroom and a chart that showed how to get to the tracks by horseback, mountain bike or hiking. No motorized vehicles allowed, and the trip from that point, to the tracks, was only 11.2 miles, round trip. Since I don’t own a horse or a mountain bike, and I haven’t hiked 11.2 miles in, well, forever, we decided to head back to La Junta.
As we headed back to civilization, I noticed three bulls and a small group of cows that had congregated around a water tank. I clicked Judy’s car into all-wheel drive and carefully pulled off the dirt road out into the desert.
“What are you doing?” she snipped.
“Well, the sign said it’s free range out here, and I want to see what kind of cattle can survive in these conditions. Besides, you can see 10 miles in any direction, and I don’t see a soul that would mind me looking.”
I exited the car and carefully evaluated the cows, calves and bulls that surrounded the water. I decided that the cows and calves looked pretty decent, considering their forage options, but also surmised that the cattleman could benefit from a trip to the Midwest for his next bull-buying adventure.
Best day of the entire vacation.
Crownover writes from Missouri.
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