Black Canyon of the Gunnison is not out of Gunnison

When we went to bed the night after our trip to Arches it was about 75 degrees.  When we got out to load the truck the next morning, it was about 40 degrees and it was snowing in Colorado Springs.  The weather had changed and we were like a couple of young colts excited by the change.

Naw, not really, more like a couple of war horses stiff from the cold.

This was a long drive, a seven-hour driving day and we planned on breaking this up by going through the Black Canyons of the Gunnison just outside of Montrose Colorado.  Skip had been there a couple of times and I had seen his pictures and they were amazing.  Sometimes even good photographs don’t do the real thing justice.  Just like pictures of me, I’m too large and spectacular to be captured by a picture. 

And, just like me,  Black Canyon cannot be captured, it must be experienced.

It had lightly snowed just outside of Montrose as we drove to the canyon.  The fields were white with little tufts of grass peeking out.  The snow wasn’t going to stay because of the bright sun, but right now the light flakes clung to the pines and junipers as we went up a winding road to the top of the canyon.

The Black Canyon was formed by the running Gunnison River.  It boasts the highest vertical cliff in Colorado, 2700 feet from tip to toe.  The sides of the cliffs are rough, rocky and have a dark tint.  You go to some of the outlooks and look over the rail and you see the river, you hear the river, you see what the river has made over eons.  

We went to several turn outs where you could walk 100 yards, 200 yards, 300 yard or longer to an overlook protected by a small fence.  It was cold, breezy, snow was on the ground around us and covered the small trees and brush that amazingly grew on the side of the rocky cliffs. 

 

It was a one of a kind moment and once again, we left just a small bit of Marty.

It was another four hours to Colorado Springs, so we had to cut our visit short.  We hit the highway knowing there was more snow and mountain passes to be passed.  We saw snow, antelope, wool heavy sheep and the huge Blue Mesa Lake; it was beautiful and went on for miles as we drove along its edge.

When we made it to Wilkerson Pass, the last mountain pass we drove through, there was snow covering the surrounding pasture.  It was overcast, snow barely falling and 18 degrees.   

I have to say I am not a good rider, I’m a bit of an anxious rider.  Marty taught the kids more driving than I ever did.  Stuff is too close on the right side when you’re not driving.  Skip was driving and I was biting my tongue and hanging on to the “Oh Shit” handle exercising my will power by not saying, slow down or watch that car.

We did get to Colorado Springs to the house of two of Skip’s longtime friends, Bobby and Becky and son Blake.  They live a warm, animal loving life in a place that is exceptionally beautiful.  You really can see Pike’s Peak from their backyard.  They swear it never gets old.  I believe them.

Marty and I honeymooned in Colorado Springs in January of 1976.