The Super 8 in Alamosa turned out to be a gem. Not only did they have TCM--the first time I'd seen it since Flagstaff, but in the morning breakfast buffet included scrambled eggs and sausages, a rarity for the budget Wyndham flags like Super 8.
After a small tour of the Adams State campus, I drove north, not on the main U.S. highway that goes up the west side of the San Luis Valley, but on State Highway 17, which skirts along the Sangre de Cristos in all their snowy glory.
After an hour of excellent road, I cut eastward on a side road, up to the base of the range itself, to the little town of Crestone. Suddenly it was eight years before, and I was in Aspen, exploring the old mining towns as I liked to do on my day off. I love the history of mining, and the towns themselves, like Crestone, have evolved into their own personalities.
I took a foot tour of the town. At the teahosue I bought a jar of raw honey, since the one I'd bought in Flagstaff had nearly run out. I inspected the "world famous" free second-hand store. I coined the phrase "more hippies than Crestone" for future use.
On the wau out town I paid closer attention to the signs related to the Property Owners Association of the Baca Ranch, the old Mexican landgrant that later became an informal utopian compound. Where you find hippies, you generally find the archeology of attempts at great planed societies.
No comments:
Post a Comment