October 1, 2023
Just Saying…
I Survived the Great Rocky Mountain Road Trip
By Q.C. Jones
For the past several years, your cordial correspondent QC Jones has marked the end of the summer with a road trip to visit the majestic mountains of New Mexico and Colorado. The stated official destination is Taos, New Mexico to participate in a music festival called The Big Barn Dance, but these trips are an excursion through the wild west. The “wild west” is still a land where cowboy hats rule, pearl snap western shirts are seen as a unisex apparel, and, to rob a quote from a late ’60s Merle Haggard hit, “boot are still in style for manly footwear.”
Considering the many western movies and cowboy shows of my youth, time spent in this environment stirs my imagination with visions of bat-wing doors, rawhide leather, lonesome cowboys, and mountain vistas. During these moments of imagination runaway, breathing in a healthy dose of mountain air drives the music of old western movies. Clint Eastwood, as the mysterious High Planes Drifter, materializes galloping on a horse off in the distance.
Some of the more remote towns visited are leftovers from the “Silver Boom” of the 1880s. Towns like Durango, Silverton, and Ouray were on our route. Each of these places was born out of the discovery of precious minerals. The logistics of moving miners and miner’s equipment into these remote areas justified the creation of roads and rail passages through some seemingly impassible areas.
In these high mountain passes, road maintenance takes on a new dimension. The equipment used is far different from the construction seen along a typical Iowa or Illinois highway. At several points along our way, we saw the remnants of large rock outcroppings that had been “dynamited” earlier to remove dangerous overhanging rocks or spring rain created avalanches. There is an aura of danger lurking at every hairpin turn.
Speaking of danger, in many instances today’s highways follow the old routes. One side of the road is sheer granite, the other side is a thousand-foot drop-off. Seated on the passenger side seat, I could glance to my right and visualize my fiery death as our car tumbled into the depths of some unnamed chasm below. Quite frankly, I wondered how or if anyone would be able to even recover the barbequed roasted remains of that which was once QC Jones. I contemplated on if they would put up a small roadside plaque mentioning the sudden demise of the Quad Cities’ favorite journalist.
My mind toyed with the proper epitaph for such a plaque. Realizing the rising costs of bronze and engraving, I kept it short, well, at least shortish.
In the wild, wild west, where legends unfold,
Lived a cowboy named QC, brave and bold.
He rode the range with a heart full of grit,
But one fateful day, he met a wild cliff’s hit.
He tumbled and tumbled, in harrowing flight,
Through dust and despair, in fading light.
His name’s etched in lore, a tale to be told,
QC Jones, the cowboy writer, and the cliff so bold.
I am happy to report, my strong minded, and steady handed friend, Mark “the bus driver” Martens delivered us safely over Coal Bank Pass (elevation 10,640 ft), Red Mountain Pass (elevation 11,075 ft), and Monarch Pass (elevation 11,312 ft) with zero fatalities. With my very existence placed in his hands, I fully encouraged his undistracted driving. This meant no grooving to his favorite songs, no stimulating conversation, and closely monitored speed. I didn’t even want him chewing on gum for fear he would savor the flavor of an overripe chicklet and forget to pay attention. All I can say is that if I were some 1880s miner, I would make sure my mule was sure of foot and as concerned about sliding off a cliff as I was.
“There’s no place like home. No place like home.” Or at least according to Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Dear Dorothy was referring to her home state of Kansas. The state motto of Kansas is the Latin phrase; Ad Astra Per Aspera. For the unwashed masses who failed to study Latin in High School and College like your genial journalist QC, this translates as, To the Stars Through Difficulty. For the highway traveler, I assume the star means Colorado and difficulty represents the boring drive through the barren wasteland of western Kansas. Perhaps if Dorothy lived somewhere in the last hundred miles of Kansas on Interstate 70, she might have carefully applied tape to the heels of her famous ruby slippers to avoid any accidental clicking.
But there is no place like home. I can still recall the wonderful feeling of driving by the World’s Largest Truck Stop and exiting into the warmth and comfort of our Quad City home. As I made the last few blocks into our neighborhood, a thought crossed my mind.
If I could have just clicked my heels together somewhere west of Colorado Springs and ended up back home, I would have saved 15 hours in the car… Just saying.
