After a full day of driving in Big Sky country from Wichita Falls on Highway 287, amazed by the vistas of Texas looming large in front of us, a huge bank of clouds could be seen in the distance. I knew those clouds were building up against the front range of the Rocky Mountains. MY Rocky Mountains. Soon, vague mountainous outlines could be seen on the horizon. What a beautiful sight. We had driven in temperatures exceeding 103 degrees for almost two days. That temperature was starting to drop ever so slowly giving promise to the next day’s drive. Pulling into Raton, N.M., the scrub of Texas had given way to the scrub of New Mexico and higher elevations as we hit over 6,000 feet. A rest for the night was in store for us flatlanders who live at an elevation of approximately 23’. Unpacking necessities for the overnight stay was proof enough of the transition as small tasks became more Herculean and accompanied by some huffing and puffing. But we made it. As the locals complained about the 80+ degree weather, we smiled and enjoyed our own personal cold front.
We headed out the next day mostly already acclimated and headed north to nearly the Wyoming border. According to the car thermometer, the ambient temperature stayed in the 70s and 80s the entire way to the place we would call home for the next several months. Ahhh, Colorado, my home sweet home. They say you can’t go home again. For some, that might be true. It’s a situation in which expectations must be carefully managed. It won’t be the same, most likely, but depending on the things you loved most about home, perhaps you can go home again. If you loved being a high school senior and going to prom, you probably can’t go back there. But if it is truly the place that is loved, the mountains, the hikes, the quickly running rivers and trout therein, and the family that may still be there, going home again may be the best thing in the world to cure whatever ails.
Heading out right away for food and other requirements for the first night in our home away from home is not an “if” question, but when. I timed it perfectly to be caught in one of the biggest rainstorms I have ever seen! It was a downpour. At least it happened on the way out and not on the way in. Of course, a new store is always a bit daunting and this store was big and crowded to this weary traveler. It is what it is and it had to be done. But I was caught completely off guard checking out as my items went down the conveyor belt to the bagger who just stood there. Uh, you wanna start bagging my stuff, man? After I was in a position to talk to this idle youngster, he asked me if I wanted my groceries bagged. What? Is that not why you are standing there? Well, he bagged them alright…and I was charged ten cents for every plastic bag he used. He was shocked, shocked I tell you when I grabbed my bottle of wine, which he had left unbagged, shoved it into another plastic bag, then into my cart and walked away into the downpour. I think I just stole a dime bag from King Soopers! You must bring your own bags to the store in Colorado or pay the price! Who knew?
Likewise, a quick trip the next day to Wal-Mart left me in the same position. The checker tried to get me to buy some $4.00 re-usable boxes to put my “stuff” into. No. Don’t want that. So she used the $.75 bags and now I have a couple re-usable bags that I will take with me everywhere. This checker told me that by January 1, 2024, all of Colorado will be re-usable bags only and everywhere. Even King Soopers won’t be able to hand out plastic bags at $0.10 per! Wow. These are some serious progressives.
My sister lives up here and, after getting everything unpacked, etc., we took a run up to her place. We opted out of using the freeway which is just as much a basket case here as in Texas. So, driving along some back roads is relaxing for sure, but there are these teeny tiny towns you drive through, or, more appropriately, there are some instances where there are a few houses by the road, and every time the speed limit at these houses drops to 25 mph. It’s just crazy. So you’re driving 55 and buzzing along, here come three houses, the limit drops immediately to 25. I’m not sure which is worse, the freeway or the back road.
I am sure there will be more “surprises” along the way. I may or may not voice my opinion. But even despite the “no plastic bag” rule and the speed limit craziness, I still love it here. It is a beautiful place with crazy politicians. I may have left the sanity of Texas behind, but I’ve tapped my heels together and I realize there’s no place like home.