As much as we enjoy the journey so far, we are aware that cruising the highways means we might skip by the real life America and some of the more interesting sights. Obviously the pay off is getting from a to b in a much more efficient manner. The goal is to mix it up where we can and today we started to find some balance.

Taking the windy road into the Colorado Rockies through the Gunnison national forest is like a mine of colour for the Autumnal painter’s palette. Ruby red, deep rust, bright gold, double-yellows yellow, with greens from faded lime to emerald and that deep dark evergreen pine.

The towns we pass have names like Hotchkiss, Paonia, Somerset and Bowie, really just ramshackle collections of shacks and stores at the roadside. Every few metres is a different fruit and veg grower plugging their wares. A far cry from the arid desolation of the desert mere moments away. One thing I do notice is I let things pass by, I need to stop the car and get out to take a moment to marvel Like the old classic car lot in Delta, I gazed in awe at the rusty old beauties from the thirties through to the probably seventies or eighties, but I failed to stop and capture it. All rusted and ruined but probably still fully functional, lined up like the dad’s army of American motors on parade. It was a sight to behold for sure, hopefully we shall pass more obscura and take the time to document it accordingly.

For your info, this post is being written somewhat more in real time than previously. Somewhat in the vein of the post, we stop at the roadside to photograph what look to be giant beehives in a line. It transpires that these are not beehives but ovens for making the coke that powered US industry for so long. We notice a discreet sign saying turn left for one of America’s best kept secret small towns, but keep it quiet. How could we refuse. From the Redstone Inn at the start to the little lodges at the end and all in between it is exactly what it says on the tin. The first building is a shop of wonderful decorative things, closing down after thirty-three years as the owner fancies retirement. The items are delightful as is the owner and Conny cannot help but buy the only thing we can fit in our (probably my) bag. More people enquire about the wonder of Black Beauty, so I give them the tour and the full story, they wish us well on our journey. Even the lamp posts in Redstone are fantastic.

Next up is Carbondale, a little larger but still with a quaint historic high-street and more importantly Beat Cafe, and entirely vegetarian salad, toast and shakes cafe from where I am sat writing with my Avocado, sesame and seawead toast. A veritable delight!

Onwards towards Aspen. A little known fact, as a little David, I always wanted to live in Aspen. I wasn’t aware that it was a wealthy town. I wasn’t really aware of much other than that it was in the mountains, had snow in the winter and I thought I could live out my lumberjack dream.

Turns out Aspen is a great place, lovely folk, nice houses, some odd architecture and design (I saw a full medieval suit of armour in someone’s window, but most importantly a pub.

Pubs, as we know are places of wonder, where even a non-drinking odd ball like me can feel at home at the same time as enjoying a night out. They are where people go to be alone, they are where people go to meet friends, they are where people go to eat, drink and be merry they are a place for all occasions.

We happened upon Hops. You can probably guess it focuses on beer (hundred and something varieties) we sat outside. Hogging the long bench to ourselves, in fact myself, as conny had been sent back to the car for ID…at 29 years old this astounds me. It was at this point a giant black dog chose to sit himself in the mini river next to my bench. The couple attached to this beast studied our table and the cluster of stuff I had spread all over it. Of course, I bundled it together and gestured to them to take a pew, which they did to my left, thanking me for sharing, which I thought was nice!

To my right a couple got up and another couple who had witnessed the dog’s selection of the bar decided to follow suit. And there we were. Our new table of fast friends.

The dog was, and is, called Cain. The man and woman who claim him as theirs are called Chuck and Alison, two young and lovely early twentysomethings I guess. We tentatively throw single lines across the table about the menu items, not wanting to interrupt each others quiet time we keep the talk small.

Until it turns to what we are doing here. Turns out Chuck and Alison dream of doing what we are doing, they offer us a tip on a camp ground an hour or so from here…at this point from my right I hear “Hey, I think we need in on this. Not eavesdropping, but we are also in a van and need this information”

Meet Johnny, he is one of the couple that sat down after witnessing Cain in the drink, and finding it “too cute”.

Johnny is with Katee. Katee is awesome.

We six plus dog spend the afternoon and evening discussing the world at large, the small stuff and much in between, and as we decide to call it a night, we all decide to head to the campground.

We head off in convoy, Chuck leads the way, with Johnny and Katy in the middle and as ever, David and Conny take up the rear. The Aspen leaves that have made it to the ground dance in the headlights as our motorcade trickles through the mountains. I am somewhat glad the night is upon us as the roads are windy and one laned with no barriers, the only time I saw over the edge my bum went all a quiver at the sheer drop to my right.

Continental divide crossed, campground reached, we men headed into the woods headlamps on, with axe and my swiss army knife to gather wood. The ladies drove to the entrance and picked up a couple of the prepared bundles they spotted on the way in. Either way, between us we had wood and fire. When there is fire and campers, inevitably next up comes food. An all-pitched-in effort of starter of fried-ricey-thingy, followed by sausages and bread for the omniverous, and potatoes accompanied by merlot-cheese to finish…’twas a delight!

Chuck and Alison were, I am guessing the youngest of the New Bunch. A lovely pair of young folk too! Not long married I think the two of them would love to just jump in a van with their trusty hound and tear up the open road. Who knows, maybe our little band of gypsies has encouraged them, I do hope so!

Katee and Johnny are equally as lovely…but they became our companions for a few days following and get their own post!

Colorado, it transpires, is a weed legal state. Our cohorts knew plenty of this, and Conny and myself had said we should sample the delights once and once only in our trip. Our friends, the experts offered us a little toot on their pipe. How could we refuse?

About three minutes later, after the coughing subsided, I was at the point of only hearing incomprehensible snippets of conversation. I was fully aware that I could offer nothing in the way of intelligent speech and could hear the call of my bed loud and clear. Now I remember why I don’t smoke weed.

I gave up and headed off as the paranoia set in and I could half hear discussions of suitably random stuff that I can no longer even remember. I did however drift off nicely.

As Conny crawled into the bed what seemed like three hours later (apparently it was 10 minutes) and then the car pulled off (which seemed like ten minutes later but was hours later, it’s all very confusing!) I needed a pee, was wide awake and feeling the appropriate highness from my little toot. Sadly David missed the party. Fire out and all in bed. I think I’ll leave the sticky icky from here on out to the professionals!