Friday, and time for one last hike around Eastridge Campground. I chose to head out on Canyon Rim, then cut over to Twisted Cistern, and finally head back on Dark Side of the Moon. A perfect day for hiking, sunny but with a cooling breeze. The boys trotted happily along.

Saw several birds along the way: hummingbirds—broad-tailed and black-chinned are both common in CO, but I could never get one to hold still long enough to identify. Spotted towhees are everywhere, and one of the few birds that seem comfortable sitting out in the open. They look just like our eastern towhees: black back and head, chestnut sides, white belly, but their backs are spotted with white. I saw my first sage thrasher! I’m no expert on flycatchers (notoriously hard to identify, especially the Empids), but given the habitat and the size of the bird, I’m pretty sure I saw an Ash-Throated Flycatcher. Sitting bolt upright, with a crown of brown feathers that look like they’ve been spiked with mousse, distinct wing bars—yep, I’ll say Ash-Throated. 

Prickly pear cactus flowers are really starting to come out. While not as striking as the deep red barrel cactus flowers, they range from a pure lemon yellow to a yellow touched with peach or red, to a pale peach.

And I spotted some new flowers!

Tomorrow (Saturday) I’m off to Elliot Creek Campground, on the Green Mountain Reservoir, just outside of Heeney, CO.

Goodbye, Cañon City and Royal Gorge. It’s been wonderful!

Russ hasn’t stopped saying “Wow!” since he got here on Sunday afternoon. The next day, he eagerly joined me for a hike. For some reason, the trail I’d walked just a day before had me confused, and we walked back for a way along the dirt road. Later, he was busy tuning up his bike, so I set off with Moe for a late afternoon hike out a new trail. This one, on a south-facing slope, gave me a chance to see some early cactus flowers and others:

We just can’t get enough of the scenery! Neither of us has been through this area before (I visited my sister in Boulder once, years ago, but did not go exploring), so we are like little kids, exclaiming over every peak and cliff.

My bird list is growing, with new sightings of spotted towhees and western scrub jays. 

Once Russ decided to hang around until Thursday, to avoid the rain expected on Wednesday, I started making plans to do something special once the holiday weekend crowds were gone. There are whitewater rafting and zip line tours galore—we decided on rafting, as we’ve been zip lining but never rafting. Tuesday morning, we headed out bright and early to take a half-day whitewater rafting tour. 

It was a blast! The Arkansas River runs through the Royal Gorge, spanned by a spectacular suspension bridge, just outside of Cañon City, and the rafting company was only a few miles from camp. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. Even Russ loved it, and he’s not much of a water person. Me, I love anything to do with water!

We could have been the grandparents of everyone else on this tour. Anyone even close to our age had gone off on the more ’family friendly’ trip. We were pretty proud of ourselves for tackling four Class IV rapids, along with a slew of Class IIIs. One of the three rafts (not ours) flipped, dumping everyone in the river. Everyone got rescued quickly, and all were OK. And everyone that had to swim got to write their names and thoughts on the bus!

After rafting, we had a huge, delicious lunch and headed over to the nearby KOA to take some much needed hot showers. By the time we made it back, the dogs had plenty to say about being left for so long, but they were quickly pacified with dinner. We both fell asleep, exhausted by all the adrenaline of the morning. When we woke, there was a large herd of mule deer (I counted at least 12, including three bucks with new antlers in velvet, and one fawn) calmly feeding around our campsite. We watched them for quite a while: there are very few campers here now, so there wasn’t any commotion to spook them. You’ll have to go to Russ’s site (www.russloomis.com) to see the pictures: I was too busy being fascinated to think of photos!

Oh, AND in the middle of all the rafting excitement, I managed to spot an American Dipper! These birds only live along swift-running streams and rivers (they actually go underwater and walk along the river bottom to find small aquatic insects), so I was delighted to see one!

Driving from western Kansas into Colorado, you become aware of how high you are in elevation, despite the fact that the landscape is so flat. Western Kansas is above 3,000 feet: by the time I had gotten well into Colorado, through miles of gently rising hills, like long, low ocean waves, the elevation was above 4,000 feet. And then there was my first glimpse of the Rockies, which seem to appear out of nowhere:

I drove the last 50 or so miles through Pueblo and Cañon City with a stupid grin on my face. 

I was lucky to find Eastridge Campground, and possibly the last campsite in this whole area for the Memorial Day weekend. Eastridge is a primitive campground set above the Royal Gorge just west of Cañon City. Some will gripe that $20 per night is a high price to pay for a campground with no electricity or water. I say this place would be cheap at twice the price—the scenery is that spectacular. The host and her two sons (and their basset hound Elvis) are very friendly and helpful. It even smells great, thanks to the piñon pines!

As the dogs and I were setting out for a Saturday morning hike, we met CJ, a retired Marine Major and Afghanistan vet, who was out for the weekend with his WIBTech camper:

Made in Colorado!

Had a great time talking to him. We found out we’d both lived in DC. We compared campers and ‘minimalist life’. He showed me his solar arrays, which I’m thinking of adding to my gear, and we swapped Cosmo Weems (the teardrop guru) tips. He also told me about the old Phantom Canyon road, which he recommended for Russ to ride back to Route 9 and our way north. Lots of historical markers and great scenery. 

On the other hand, you can look in any direction here and find great scenery. There is beauty here beyond imagining.

And, of course, there are small beauties everywhere:

I can’t wait to do more hiking, but in the meantime, I’m off to town to get water…

So I finally make it to Colorado, and what’s the first thing I do? Get my vehicles stuck up to the axles in mud. What looked like a perfectly reasonable dirt road turned out to be nothing but a mud pit (Note to self: do NOT trust Colorado dirt roads, especially after a rain.).

What I was TRYING TO DO was to kill some time by birdwatching before I showed up at the church which was kindly allowing both of us to stay overnight. What I DID was get hopelessly stuck trying to get to the lake south of town, which turned out NOT TO EXIST anymore (Google maps, take note!). Since the only contact information I had was for the church pastor, I called him, hoping he would tell me who to call for a tow. I was NOT expecting him to say ”Well, I guess that would be me. Wait a few minutes and I’ll be there.” Tiny towns in eastern Colorado do not have towing services—they have helpful neighbors with four-wheel pickups.

No, I did not take pictures. Imagine me covered in thick clay to the knees, and you get the idea. The pastor was unbelievably gracious about the whole thing, and, once we made it back to the church, proceeded to give me a tour and offer me whatever I needed. He even told me how he’d gotten stuck once. A Good Samaritan, indeed!

After Russ joined me on Sunday night, we decided to take Monday to go see two highly recommended natural sites. But first, we stopped off to see the partially reconstructed pueblo just south of the lake—the northern- and eastern-most pueblo dwelling yet found in the United States. I was privy to some insider information, having just encountered a team of archaeology students and their professor at the laundromat in Scott City the day before. They were working on a small dig just south of the state park, and were happy to answer my questions about their dig, the pueblo, and larger questions about the movement of Puebloan peoples across the southwest. (A side note: I majored in Anthropology, and sent a summer with a team excavating the Salmon River Ruins in Bloomfield, New Mexico while I was in college. And while, just as my dad feared, I never held a job in Anthropology, I’ve always been fascinated by the subject. But enough about me.)

We met a very interesting couple from New York state at the pueblo site, I was able to sound fairly well-informed there, and we talked for quite awhile. They were headed to the same places we were, so we saw them again throughout the day.

Monument Rocks. There is nothing I can say that would improve upon these pictures, so enjoy (and enlarge them if you want to get a better idea of the immensity of these formations)!

Then we headed to the nearby Little Jerusalem Badlands, Kansas’s most dramatic Niobrara chalk formation, formed from the prehistoric inland sea. An important habitat for many plants and wildlife, including wild buckwheat, Swift foxes, pronghorn antelope, ferruginous hawks and badgers, it also has many marine fossils. Apparently, it got the “Jerusalem” name because from a distance it looked like the ancient walled city of Jerusalem. It was for generations part of a private ranch. Now it is owned by The Nature Conservancy.

As Russ said to me later, it was a great day!

A gray, windy and cold day at Quivira, but still worth it. Deer. Raccoons. A weasel carrying her baby across a mud flat into the tall grass. Ruddy Turnstones. Wilson’s Phalaropes spinning like tops in the water. Semipalmated Sandpipers. And lots more.

Leaving Quivira, I was directed to turn right, turn left, and then “For 118 miles, go straight.” One road (96), straight across Kansas. Flat as a pancake, nothing but fields and the occasional tiny town.

In desperation, I searched for a radio station that was not trying to bring me to an ecstatic love-bond with Jesus, and found probably the only public radio station in the area—HPPR, the High Plains Public Radio. They were broadcasting Western swing, their usual Saturday programming, and today was a special dance edition.  Now, I am here to tell you, you have not lived until you have heard the Western swing version of “I Could Have Danced All Night.” Which led me to fantasize an entirely Western swing version of My Fair Lady, with an Midwestern rancher-type trying to ‘educate’ prim easterner Eliza. (Someone needs to work on that idea. Just sayin’.)  Kept me going right up to the shores of Historic Lake Scott State Park. 

They call it HISTORIC Lake Scott for a reason. Battle of Punished Woman’s Fork, site of the last Native American/Cavalry battle in Kansas. El Cuartelejo, the only known Pueblo ruins in Kansas. Early settlements. And that’s just the historic sites INSIDE the park.  The whole area is rich in history, with Indian forts, early stagecoach lines, museums, and more. 

And the scenery!! This is like nothing else in the state—they call it the badlands of Kansas. The dogs and I hiked the 6 mile trail around the lake.

After hiking the trail, I drove to the Punished Woman Fork battle site, where a band of northern Cheynne, fleeing from a reservation and trying to return to their home in the north, made a stand against U.S. Cavalry forces in 1878. They hid their women and children in the cave at the head of this canyon, while men took defensive positions along the canyon walls. They managed to fatally wound the Cavalry commander, but were forced to escape by night, leaving all of their horses and possessions behind. Some were captured quickly, while others managed to roam the Nebraska sandhills for a time.

You can walk down to the cave, and around the small canyon, where the barricades and rifle pits built by the Comanche can still be seen. I felt a great sadness, thinking of these people so desperate just to go home.

OK, so Russ and I have been doing plenty of crabbing about Kansas: it’s too hot, it’s too windy, the weather is freaking scary, etc., etc.

So I thought hard, and came up with some positive things about Kansas:

1. It’s not crowded

2) When Google Maps says ”For the next XX miles, go straight,” you can do exactly that!

3) Grass! If you like grass, you’ll LOVE Kansas!

4) Windmills

5) You’ll never feel claustrophobic

Oh, I could go on and on about how great Kansas is. But you’ll have to excuse me: I’m busy trying to get to Colorado right now.

Friday morning: AGAIN with the howling wind! Today dawned cloudy and much cooler, but it was so windy Russ doubted he’d be able to ride at all, much less get to his next intended stop. We dithered back and forth until close to lunchtime, when I declared I was going to tour Quivira, wind or no wind. That forced Russ to get off his butt, and I left him with everything he needed (hopefully) for the next couple of days, as I and the dogs drove off. (Note: he made it to his intended destination, despite his late start.)

The sky cleared and the wind let up a little as I drove to Quivira.
OH. MY. GOD.

This wasn’t even the best time of year to visit (spring migration—March and April—is prime bird-spotting season), but you could have fooled me! The bulk of Quivira is salt marshes and associated grasslands (the lakes lie atop salt pans), which produces a rich variety of plant and aquatic food sources, and all manner of waterfowl flock to this area.

Here’s a list of what I saw there: (Non-birders can skip this part)

• Franklin’s Gull
• White Pelican
• Blue-winged Teal
• Northern Shoveler
• Scaup (Lesser, I think)
• Bobwhite
• Great Egret
• Great Blue Heron
• Swainson’s Hawk
• Black-bellied Plover
• Snowy Plover
• American Avocet
• Black-necked Stilt
• Willet
• Spotted Sandpiper
• Cliff Swallow
• a host of little sandpipers, unindentifiable by me

And that doesn’t even include the boring stuff, like Canada Geese, Mallards, Red-winged Blackbirds, Baltimore Orioles, and Orchard Orioles!

I am going to try VERY HARD to leave early tomorrow, as I will pass right through Quivira on my way to Scott City and the next campground.

Arrived at Sterling Lake (Pond, if you ask me) about 1:30. Nice park, with meandering walkways around the lake, a swimming pool and water park, a basketball court, disc golf course, and picnic tables and pavilions. They even have free wifi! Something was clearly going on as I pulled in:

I set up the camper and wandered over (with the dogs, of course; they help to break the ice) to find out what was going on. The entire fifth grade class was having a field day, with picnicking and a scavenger hunt ON BICYCLES! Talked to a few of the kids and a couple of the moms (to let them know I wasn’t some pervert). Had to take pictures to share with Russ.

That was so much fun I didn’t even notice the railroad tracks right behind my camper, until this happened (imagine train whistles going off from ten feet away):

Fortunately, they only go by about three times a day.

Russ made it just in time for dinner and some ice cream shakes (not actually in that order). The wind was howling (again). I usually open the windows for fresh air at night, but it blew so hard I thought it was going to damage the hinges on my windows, so we had to shut them. Despite all that, and another train that came by in the night, we slept like logs.

THIS is Sand Hills State Park:

There are LOTS of trails around the Sand Hills. Moe and I made the mistake of trying one in the afternoon when I arrived, and we both nearly died of the heat. Moe got hosed off under the outside shower without even protesting, and we both drank about a gallon of water.

Hiking in the morning was much better. I had assumed that birding on the plains would be simple: birds would conveniently perch on fenceposts or the occasional (probably dead) tree, and I would add new species at every turn. Unfortunately, birds are smarter than that—most congregate where there is shade, and protection.

But a few did show themselves, and that morning, I added three new species to my life list: Lark Sparrow, Dickcissel, and Blue Grosbeak (if you’ve ever seen an Indigo Bunting, Blue Grosbeaks look just like them, except a bit larger, and with chestnut wingbars).

And the prairie wildflowers are lovely!

My first night at Sand Hills, we had another storm: the lightning flashed, the wind howled, the camper shook like a leaf, and clouds roiled above me. I sat up in terror until after midnight, expecting to make a mad dash for the shower house at any moment. The rain didn’t come until after the wind died down. I finally fell asleep, only to discover when I woke that I’d left all the car windows open. Nothing critical was damaged, but all our sweatshirts and jackets had to be hung out to dry, and the car seats took a full day to dry out. The cup holders were small ponds.

It’s Thursday, May 19, so I’m off to Sterling, KS, to meet Russ and to make plans for the remainder of our trip across Kansas.