Rocky Mountain High

Gunnison County is an amazing place. It is also a place where even the most thought out plans change in the blink of an eye, so hold onto your hat when you get here. My plan was to roll through Gunnison, see part of my family, then head up to Crested Butte to see the rest of it. I was planning on blowing in on a breeze, giving the few that mean the most to me a good hug, then riding the wind back down to Gunni for the evening. The next morning I was going to head out of town toward Grand Junction where I was going to hop on a freight train through the Rocky Mountains and the desert out to the coast, where my thumb would get me the rest of the way to Portland. Now, when I say hold on to your hat coming to Gunnison, you had better hold on to your face when you roll into Crested Butte, especially if you have any gypsy in you. I should have known what was coming when it took me longer to find a ride out of Gunnison than it had to find a ride all the way there from Denver. Much love to Carol for the smooth sailing all the way to Monarch pass. But like I said, I got to Gunni, and life just moves slower. So slow in fact, that I had to end up taking the free bus up to the Butte because my thumb just wasn't cutting it anymore. A few hours later, the tribe had been assembled, and we headed to the bar for "just one drink." Famous last words, I know. So after a beautiful CB sunrise, I headed back down to Gunnison to see the people I had missed by not making it back the night before. My ride was in the "Pimpin Purple Pirate Party Palace with advanced Powers of Police Protection." The lovely captain Jessica, and her badass dog Jackson had just gotten back into town in their sweet new gypsy van, and were heading out to the lake before finding somewhere "permanent" to park their new home. I was going to spend one more night in Gunnison, and then continue on to Grand Junction on Sunday instead. It is now Tuesday, and I am still here. Maybe I just got "Gunnied" or something, but I woke up Sunday morning having had strange dreams, decided not to listen to them, and hit the road. I didn't even make it to the hitching post before I started getting bad vibes, and after a half an hour with my thumb out, I decided to listen to my gut. I had found a ride the night before in the Butte that was leaving for Portland on Wednesday, and had decided not to take it because i didn't want to spend that long in town. As it turned out, my "little sister" had thrown her back out that day at work, and needed a nurse to take care of her for the next couple, so it's a good thing I stayed. I am getting in a car headed for the Summit tomorrow, so that is great, and then I think I'll head north into British Colombia, maybe Alaska, maybe somewhere else, I'm kind of over trying to make predictions, so we'll all just kind of find out together...