If you remember from this blog's beginning, we packed the trunk and set-off to visit friends and family and see some of the nation along the way, before we move into a backpack and wander to other countries.  Our idea of "untourism" is a way of travelling that doesn't include crossing off must see sites and hurrying on to the next.  It is more of a belief in "seeing what you see" and having local experiences.  Our Denver-or-bust night drive prevented us from having the time to hook-up with some family friends in the area but left us some time to explore.  After our driving day in the Rockies, and a call to our friend, Dan Alexander, we couldn't resist a bit of sightseeing before heading to Salt Lake City where our next set of friends awaited us.  Rock aficionado, Dan has for years been telling us about these amazing places in Utah country.  Then, we found out from some free rest stop literature that the area also included preserved ancestral pueblo sites.  Now these would be cool for anyone, but for Fred they were a must see. 

When I was in third grade, my teacher let the kids who could already read proficiently complete independent projects during phonics time.  I fell in love with Amelia Earhart and ended up studying her for an entire semester, presenting lessons to younger grades, making a bulletin board...I mean, going all out.  Well, the ancient pueblos were Fred's Amelia Earhart.  So we left Rifle, hit the "Million Dollar Highway" for a scenic drive through the heart of Colorado's Rockies with the aim of ending up at Mesa Verde. 

Route 550 is titled such because it was so expensive to cut the route:  up and over mountain peaks, alongside cliffs, burrowing straight through.  We left our soak in Orvis Hot Springs to travel route 550 for 73 miles to Durango.  It took us over 3 hours!  You know how HBO and Showtime promise to make your TV viewing experience something more?  Well if you think driving is boring, or not a good way to experience a new place, try route 550.  We stopped off to see an iron fen, the only wetland of its kind in North America.  We saw the entrance to an old mine shaft that runs over 5 full miles under/through a mountain.  We saw a ghost town where the mine workers used to live.  We had coffee in a town dubbed "little Switzerland" for its picturesque valley layout. We saw immense stretches of breathtaking views.  We climbed to over 11,000 feet while craning our necks to look straight up at 14,000 foot peaks.  And we prayed for our life as each hair pin, switch back curve of the road hung us perilously close to the cliff’s edge. 

We slept well in the sleepy town of Cortez, UT.  At Mesa Verde the next day, we wound a couple hundred feet down a cliff face, climbed a two-story, strung ladder to enter a reinforced ancient dwelling…and decided I'd missed my calling.  Tucked up under an overhang, you'd wake up each morning in your cave house, step out onto your balcony some 2,500 feet above the valley's floor and look out over what must have seemed like the rest of the world.  While Fred scooted along the inner wall, I scurried in and around the rock rooms and imagined myself a puebloan scout, one they'd send free-climbing to find a good spot before building a rough trail to provide access to the rest of the tribe.  Still, after just half a day in a National Park, we were feeling quite un-untouristy. 

There is no doubt the U.S. National Parks provide an amazing asset.  They preserve and make available to the public amazing natural features of this vast country's landscape and history.  Key word: public.  As in people.  As in established paths and chirping children and bus pull offs.  And this is mid-September, past summer rates, much too late for the masses, the real crowds.  In the upcoming days, we would discover how, even within the boundaries of a National Park, we could get off the pre-laid path, away from any other visitors, and enjoy the sites in peace.  But we'd had enough for that day and fled, set-off on an unplanned drive figuring we'd no doubt benefit from the plethora of scenic byways in the area.  And we were rewarded.

We weren't exactly lost.  We had an idea of how to make our way back out to actual highways with names designated on the map.  We had a full tank of gas and plenty of daylight left, so we weren't worried.  Our first discovery was what I guess you'd call a tractor pull.  Except it looked more like a bulldozer, which was pulling a semi-truck with a tanker attached.  It was $5 dollars a vehicle to get in, which consisted mostly of Harley’s and pick-ups.  Ours was the only convertible.  If we thought the array of local folks was interesting here, we needed only wait for our next find--the Navajo fair.  The set-up was basically the same as a small-time county fair, except for being in a desert-like plain, having no permanent facilities and piped in water.  What caught our eye from the road was the rodeo, but what held our attention was the traditional dancing complete with drummers and singers, which I'd describe as wailers.  And just outside the fence that confined the festivities, entrepreneurism was alive and well.  I'll skip writing one, since I can already imagine you, the reader, just skimming through the ridiculously long list of items for sale out of make-shift tents and lean-tos, obviously the kiosks of seller's who hadn't paid to be included as official fair businesses. 

Back on the road in our now thoroughly dusty Solara, we spot a little sign and arrow, "Valley of the Gods Road".  How could we resist?  I almost just have to let the pictures do the talking.  18 miles of red dirt road (I guess we'll call it a road) wound, twirled, stretched through a canyon valley, around giant rock formations, and between cliff walls and mountain sides.  In the hours we spent in the loop, maybe 10 other cars passed by.  When we parked and hiked to the top of one of the rock creatures, the uninterrupted view seemed as old as the rocks themselves.  No roads, no power lines, no subdivisions.  Just earth for as far as we could see.  And past that, because beyond what our eyes could report, there was a sense of endlessness to the terrain.          

I mentioned pictures, so I'll leave you with those.  I set up a flikr site (per Robert's great suggestion in the blog comments) to provide more illustrations of our travels for those interested.  Check it out at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/42679370@N06/sets/