rolling [to hard]rock

The view from our aid station in the San Juans at mile 58 of Hardrock.

We're still figuring out this life on the road thing, it's true. We left Wenatchee on a Thursday, and both that night and the next it poured harder than it had in months, with the rain on Friday so intense it actually leaked through the truck's canopy and tried to water-board Kerri. Between rainstorms, Kaniksu, and the Fourth of July run, we were pretty tired by the time we started traveling south in earnest.

Seeing our awesome(ly adventurous) friend Brenna in Salt Lake City was a definite spirit-lifter [she's the sort of fantastic that brightens an entire trip], but given how we stayed up late chatting and then went directly from her place to nab the highest Wasatch peak (Nebo – always a great trail), even that stretch through Utah wasn't exactly restful. 

Finding Nebo.

Black Beauty started ceremoniously smoking on the way down from Nebo, which required a stop in Nephi (never did figure out the cause, though we did discover we were out of coolant – courtesy a Jiffy Lube in Missoula that didn't do what they said they did). Adventurous, yes (always), but not exactly stress-free. 

Arches National Park was exceptionally gorgeous, but travel logistics meant we didn't get there until mid-afternoon and by then it was a hilarious 105 degrees in the shade and incredibly crowded. Still, definitely worth the stop. The campground we were planning on staying at in Canyonlands was closed due to flash-flood warnings so we found a place to pull-off and sleep higher in the valley, but a formidable wind-storm meant we were faced with another not-exactly-sleep-laden night.

In Mesa Verde National Park [one of the most beloved and interesting stops of the entire trip; slide-show below], we saw a car that had just tumbled off a cliff moments before our arrival and was now resting at least a hundred feet below the road, and then from there still had to navigate several more passes before we reached Silverton. Adding all the passes, the two from Durango to Silverton put us at nearly twenty – and the trip was just getting started.

Silverton, like many places we'd travel before Endless July was over, is surrounded by beautiful peaks. The San Juans are majestic and wild and incredibly beautiful. But the "road" to Grouse Gulch was(n't so much a road, as the road to Mordor] hard on an already tired car, on already frayed nerves, on already worn passengers. We were tired, so very tired.

So, for next year: Fewer side trips before arriving in Colorado. Come into Hardrock rested. Get there sooner, so we have time to play and explore before it gets busy and turns into a junk show. Don't drive into the less accessible aid stations, or do so at a time that it won't be busy with four-wheelers. Know that most of the aid station volunteers will be extraneous, and will need to sleep most of the night. Know that we'll need to get some sleep early in the evening, so that we're ready to go all night. Give ourselves even more time to adjust to the altitude.

We will be back. And we'll be much, much smarter about it next time.