Travels

Colorado Dinosaur Bones

We got the heck outta town a few weeks ago and drove up to see the Dinosaur National Monument. We spent a few hours (and $25.00 entrance fee) cozying up to a collection of dinosaur bones embedded in the side of a rock face. The National Monument and the Dinosaur Quarry is located near Vernal, Utah at the border of Colorado and Utah.

Both me and my Mom have always been fascinated by geology and what can be found within the rocks that cover our earth. Mom jokes that she’s almost as old as the dinosaur bones. But far from it. She’s such a kidder!

It’s fascinating that creatures that large roamed the earth, but when you get close to the bones, you get a sense as to the size. It’s also very interesting to read the story of the paleontologist, Earl Douglas, who stumbled over bones projecting out of the rocks, which led him to start digging in 1909. President Woodrow Wilson made the area an official national monument in 1915. Read more about the Dinosaur Monument history.

The interesting thing is, all these bones were found piled up on top of one another and embedded in the rock. It makes you wonder how that happened. Well, they believe the dinosaurs died in a flooded riverbed which washed the bodies and bones to an area where their bodies stacked up in one spot. That’s why this was such a great discovery!

And they’re still finding more bones! In the summer of 2019, paleontologists found a Stegosaurus femur, three intact teeth and countless other fossils. Read all about these latest discoveries.

We were glad to find the Quarry Museum air-conditioned, but they do require you to be masked in order to enter. It can get pretty toasty in the summer, so bring a hat and water if you decide to hike the trails at the Monument.

It does leave you with a sense of awe that creatures like this lived in our neck of the woods, so to speak. And if you’re hankering to see more fossils and dinosaur bones, you can also visit Garden Park Fossil Area near Canyon City, Colorado.

Camping with Hubby at Flaming Gorge

We visited Flaming Gorge. There’s nothing like a camping trip to strengthen the bonds between husband and wife.

Thankfully Doug did all the preliminary research, made reservations, and got us safely to the campground after we visited Dinosaur National Monument. He’s great with logistics. All I had to do was sit in the truck and let him do all the driving. He also packed the truck, unloaded the truck, set up the tent and the canopy too. Then he carried both kayaks 98.367 yards down to the water’s edge. (I did carry my makeup bag to the tent.)

In case you think I must be a real prima donna, I did the shopping, meal planning, packed the coolers and did all the cooking. I’ll have you know that in 19th century Italy, a prima donna refers to the “first lady” in an opera who performs leading roles. Generally she sang more music than other women in the company. In other words, she did the most of the work.

So being a prima donna isn’t always a bad thing. I entertained my wonderful hubby by breaking into song the entire way there and back. Just sayin’, I do earn my keep!

Once we got to the campground, it was time to pick the best spot for the tent. You don’t want it too close to the fire and the opening should face the picnic table. There can’t be too many lumps on the ground and it’s got to be level. While our site was close to the potty, it couldn’t be downwind.

Every year we have to re-learn which tent poles go where and in what order. There’s nothing funnier than watching two fairly intelligent people trying to teach each other how to understand simple directions. And it’s amazing how instructions can be easily misunderstood:

Hubby: “Grab that pole and push it towards me.”

Me: “Which pole?”

Hubby: “The long one. Push it over this way.”

Me: “What way?”

Hubby: “Push it through the sleeve on the top.”

Me: “It’s stuck.”

Hubby: “Here let me come over and do it. You hold the corner down.”

Me: “Which corner?”

After the tent was finally set up, we took a quick drive over to the Visitor’s Center. We camped within a few miles of the Flaming Gorge Reservoir, a beautiful mini-Grand Canyon that borders Utah and northwest Colorado. When we got there, we approached a sign that said, “Danger Cliffs. Guard your children.” Nobody has to tell me twice. I’ve been afraid of heights my entire life. Just thinking of it as I write this article twists my stomach in knots.

We could have gone horseback riding while we there there, but the trail meandered along the rim. That was a deal breaker. Why would I want to climb up on something five feet higher to look down into the abyss? Even at the Visitor’s Center I wouldn’t go near the corner window, which was suspended over the gorge. I let Doug take the pictures.

The next day we took the kayaks out. Now, I’m fine with water. I grew up with lakes and pools and even competed in synchronized swimming events. I have no problem getting into the kayak; it’s the getting out that gives me the trouble. Thank goodness Doug was a submariner in the Navy. He knows all about how to lift heavy, awkward, talkative objects out of the water.

We had a great time once we got settled at camp. The weather was perfect and the bugs were few. Once it got dark, we started a campfire and sat with our heads tilted way back looking at the stars. There was no light pollution and we could even see the Milky Way and tons of shooting stars. It was a wonderful experience.

Doug leaned over to me and said, “Isn’t it great we get to sit here in the woods, smell the pines and look at the stars?” I replied, “You mean like we do when we’re home?” Ha! Somehow it’s different when you drive six hours, get woodsmoke in your clothes, sleep on the ground and put up with noisy neighbors!

But after two days of tenting, I was ready for a shower. So, we packed everything up (again) and moved over to the cabin he’d reserved. T’was a welcome change. If you ever decide to go, we stayed at the Red Canyon Lodge near Flaming Gorge. There is a small lake there in case you want to take your kayaks or canoe.

We had planned to move from the cabin back to the tent on our last day, but I hated the thought of setting everything back up again. Instead, we left a day early and stopped along the way for a visit at my brother’s house. He has a shower.

Now, just so you know, I don’t mind tenting. We’re fairly mobile and have a better selection of camping spots. I like it better than trying to navigate one of those huge campers. But after you get home and think of all the work you put into the trip, you might question whether it was worth it.

Yes, yes it was. The stars, campfire, kayaking, snuggling together in the tent and seeing Flaming Gorge definitely was worth it. And now that we’re home, we really appreciate our comfy bed and a full sized shower!

We still have noisy neighbors, however. There’s nothing like a few screech owls to remind you of the great outdoors!

How I Got My Horse Fix on Poncha Pass

I’ve been horse crazy since I was a kid. With long blonde hair, I pretended to be a Palomino. And my bedroom was full of plastic horse figurines. They were collectables, ya know.

When we went to our Camp as kids, my sisters and I would gallop stick horses through the pines, whinnying and tossing our manes. We’d even snort, paw the ground and rear up on our hind legs. I found my horse fix any way I could get it!

That’s why it was such a treat when my sister, during a recent family reunion, asked me to go horseback riding. We drove up to Poncha Pass near Salida, Colorado and pulled in at Granite Mountain Outfitters. A nice lady named Sue is the owner.

It’s been years since I’ve ridden. In fact, the last time it was mosquito season and we herded cows through the sage and all over the ranch. I couldn’t sit down for days.

Anyway, we told them about our riding experience and my sister was paired with a quarter horse named LeRoy. I ended up with Houdini…

…a mule.

Now, before you go and get all judgmental on me, you should know that Houdini was one talented critter, fully capable of opening any gate. In fact, we were told that Houdini recently opened seven gates and let out so many cattle it took hours to round them all up.

So I swung into the saddle and sat proudly upon my mule.

And off we went with our personable guide, Andrew.

Just us and the great outdoors! We rode through meadows with wildflowers, tall stands of aspen and an old logging camp. No stress and no noise.

Except for my mule. He liked to groan. He did it trudging up the hills and he did it when “nature called.” No braying. No snorting. Just groaning.

But he was sure-footed as a goat.

When we got to the mountain top, our guide took pictures of us from every angle.

Then my sister’s horse took a selfie.

On our way down, there was more groaning. This time it was from me.

“Um, Andrew? How much longer till we’re back at the ranch?”

Bones in my bottom were competing for attention with the spectacular scenery. The late afternoon sun lit up a few deer butts on a distant hill, like spotlights in the sage.

Everything glowed. I wanted to bottle it.

Then all at once, our two and a half hours were over. I dismounted my mighty steed and dropped to the ground with legs quivering like jello.

It was one of the most memorable rides of my life. The good folks at Granite Mountain Outfitters gave is a little piece of heaven that day.

I got my horse fix — on a mule.

And I tossed my mane a little as we drove away.

Wild and Crazy Road Trip

Family road trips bring back fond memories, don’t they? Everyone would pile in the car and snuggle up together for hours on end. It was a bonding experience with our sweaty little arms and legs stuck to each other on those vinyl seat covers. Why, when I was a kid, we couldn’t wait for the chance to leave our friends and favorite TV shows for hours of uninterrupted time with sisters and brothers. Yes, it’s true. I’m not kidding.

So, when we moved from northern California to upstate New York and I learned I’d have to drive it alone with the kids, I jumped for joy. Why, what better way to solidify that parent/child relationship than four days in a Sprint in July with no air-conditioning? Yep, keep ‘em cooped up in a car so they have no choice but to listen to you. Nothing but 2600 miles of open road and four days of togetherness!

Somewhere in Utah we ran into road work. Two lanes gradually merged into one, squeezing us into a narrow channel that was blocked on both sides by concrete barriers. It was unsettling. There was nowhere to go except forward. And it went on and on for miles. Thankfully the kids were quiet and calm, so I could focus on keeping us off the walls. Just like a bobsled team, we swiftly sped down and around, leaning into the curves.

All of a sudden, my eldest let out a blood curdling scream and I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Mom! Get it off me! Get it OFF me!

Panicked, I darted my eyes from the chute up ahead to the rear view mirror. What was terrorizing my child? What could I do to make it stop?

But in the reflection, all I could see was a ginormous 18-wheeler. He was right on our tail, bearing down on us. He was close. Scary close. He blasted his horn. I couldn’t see the driver’s face. For a moment, I felt like Dennis Weaver in Steven Spielberg’s movie Duel!

MOMMMMMMY! GETITOFFMEEEE!” My six year old’s lungs were piercing my eardrums. The baby was crying. My middle son was yelling, “Bug Mom. BUG!” (The last time he did that, he was inches from a tarantula.)

Pressure. What to do? What to do?

There was nothing I could do (They say the only time a woman feels totally helpless is when her fingernail polish is wet. I beg to differ!)

So there we were with 40 tons of metal cozying up to my back bumper and a car full of screaming kids, barreling down a concrete runway with no escape. The bug played a starring role, but like the driver of that truck, I still hadn’t seen its face.

With nerves of steel, I tightened my grip on the wheel and yelled for everyone to calm down. (Yes, you know that worked, right?)

Then the concrete barriers gave way and we made our escape down the exit ramp and onto a wide and welcoming shoulder. Not a moment to lose, I threw open the door, sprang from my seat and rushed to the aid of my eldest.

It was about the biggest bug I’d ever seen outside a movie theater! It had a huge body with long, waving antennae and at least 18 legs. It had crawled up his shirt and onto his neck. He was paralyzed in fear. Hesitating for only a moment, I did what any good mother would do.

I asked my four year old to shoo it away!