When people see somebody head off to go full time RVing they probably think that the traveler will settle down in a couple years. (They can only be going through a phase, you know.) In my case this phase has lasted ten years. But in a metaphorical sense, they were right. There is a place I feel at home at--not a zip code, but a topographic form, a physiographic region.
We're roaming free-range again in plateau/mesa/canyon country. Specifically we're in the unpronounceable uncomparable Uncompahgre, west of Montrose, CO.
Why should mesas and canyons be one's favorite topography? Perhaps it's the balance and contrast between flatness and sharp declivities, between grassy foregrounds and distant mountains, or the ease of accessibility to an RV and a mountain bike.
From our current RV boondocking campsite on a small mesa we can see the San Juan mountains, the Uncompahgre Plateau, and the unmatchable Grand Mesa.
We're roaming free-range again in plateau/mesa/canyon country. Specifically we're in the unpronounceable uncomparable Uncompahgre, west of Montrose, CO.
Why should mesas and canyons be one's favorite topography? Perhaps it's the balance and contrast between flatness and sharp declivities, between grassy foregrounds and distant mountains, or the ease of accessibility to an RV and a mountain bike.
From our current RV boondocking campsite on a small mesa we can see the San Juan mountains, the Uncompahgre Plateau, and the unmatchable Grand Mesa.
After having forests block my foreground since June, I love seeing distant horizons again. The Uncompahgre started off as an uplift coeval with the Rocky Mountains, but then its orogenic career plateau'd early (ahem), while the Rockies when on to bigger and better things.
The very term, mountain bike, is a misnomer. Hiking boots are the right technology for mountains, whereas the misnamed mountain bike is ideal for hill country, plateaus, and mesas.
We headed off on a mountain bike right from the trailer door. There is nothing more perfect than a gradual, relentless climb, in which no altitude is wasted. Riding up the Uncompahgre was like that. I enjoyed watching the forest and geological layers transform, as we climbed. Although the dirt road was monotonically uphill, there were inflection points that fooled me into expecting summits. We weren't even close to the top when we turned around. I didn't care.
There was little eye candy here, in the usual postcard sense. The great attraction was the sense of luxurious spaciousness and freedom--away from tourists, Jeep Wrangler traffic jams, and guys with uniforms and badges.
Being close to the San Juan Mountains (Tourist Central), but a bit away, is working well for me. It is one more example of the Shadow Principle.
On the long downhill coast back towards Montrose, CO, I had to put gloves on, while the little poodle wore his handsome fall jacket!
On the long downhill coast back towards Montrose, CO, I had to put gloves on, while the little poodle wore his handsome fall jacket!
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