DAY 2-3 REPORT
We took a jeep tour yesterday. We went up to Red Mountain and took the Corkscrew Gulch leg into the depths of Red Mountain #1. There are three Red Mountains in a string and I'm sure they each have names but our guide apparently named them 1, 2, and 3. When you're a jeep tour guide, you can say stuff that can be pure sci-fi and no one would know or care about. This picture doesn't do it any justice, but does justify the name. We went into the mountain and somewhere near the top of one of the endless peaks, snaking along a ridge line to a point of just under 13,000 feet where only lichen and the marmot live. There, off to one side, was the remnants of another mine. Hundreds of scratches in the sides of these mountains where you can't even stand straight without falling over. You have to ask that miner, if you could, "Okay Giles, what made you pick that site to start digging for gold, hmm? Were you drunk?"
When we came back, we went down to the town's deli and ate lunch. This place was bought by a young couple with young kids a couple of years ago, wanting to escape the big city life of Montrose. I remember the glazed-over look in their eyes when they were first starting out wondering what foolish move they made. Apparently, they worked it out because the kids are now working the front counter and pouring each sandwich plate with a bountiful load of Lays potato chips. They make their Caesar Salad with chunks of chicken from a real chicken.
O'Brien's Pub has as part of their drink menu called-'flights'. Well, we had to try them, purely for the reporting need. Each flight contains four special whiskeys. We ordered Leprechaun balls, fried pickles, and scotch eggs to 'marry' the flavors according the literature that comes with each flight. Of course, after the second drink, no one really cared about the fight, who was married, or anything other than how the good whiskey in a Irish pub in the middle of a small Rocky Mountain town made you feel. We laughed at nothing. We, as a group, decided we should make this a formal meeting place to discuss the needs of the community, economic well-being, sports, the color of that mole one of us has, and of course, the whiskey. It seems to be a need of the group to do this.
This morning, starting on the early walk, Jake the Ouray City maintenance guy, was filling his water truck via the fire hydrant at the corner of Main and Seventh Avenue before dawn this morning. You can recognize Jake from his soft demeanor, the walrus mustache and the steel blue eyes. He was part of a morning crew that was busy washing the street for the 4th of July parade tomorrow. Every morning, they move up and down the street, towing a water trailer and water the hanging baskets of flowers from each street light at each intersection. Another worker is running a CAT with a scrubber attached to its front, the kind that you have in a car wash that scrubs your tires only this one looks like it s on steroids.
The Artisan Bakery wasn't open yet at 7 when I walked by, so I just came on back to the apartment for my refresher cup of joe. The big debate is about breakfast, then maybe a nap. When was the last time I have ever had a nap, besides the fact its in the morning. I know the Artisan will be closed tomorrow. The whole family is in the parade. They are driving a truck pulling a flatbed with a montage of people spanning the centuries dressed in period garb. The float will be labeled Baking Across Time. I heard they are dressing their baby up as a bag of yeast. Hmm.
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