Days 12 and 13 – Across the Great Divide

Displaying my finds after our first ride out from Elk Trace

When I envisioned this trip, I imagined harrowing moments on horseback – narrow mountain trails with crumbling edges, face offs with bison, rattle snakes in our path.  We’ve had a little of that – some hard scrambles in Ohio, Lea’s fall in Illinois, picking cactus spines out of Juneau’s fetlocks after a ride at Lathrop State Park in Colorado.  But, so far, the most nerve-wracking moments – at least for me – have been trailering.  There was the ‘chicken fight’ with the logging truck on a highway ramp outside Charleston, WV.  There are the horrible roads that have me sure we’ll find bloody legs on our horses when we stop.  And, there was crossing Wolf Creek Pass or the ‘great divide’– a point where you shift between the eastern and western sides of the Rockies.  At over 10,000 feet, this is a formidable climb and descent for any vehicle.  But, when you are hauling a 3,000-pound trailer and another 3,000 pounds of horse flesh and gear, it’s a real ass-kicker.

I’m happy to say that Dennis did great.  (I’ve named my truck after my favorite Peloton yoga instructor; Kurt is not pleased).  He did, however, sound like he might blow a gasket when the ‘active engine braking’ engaged.  I guess the Chevy thinks drivers aren’t smart enough to know to down shift to slow a descent without overheating the brakes.  Nice feature, I guess, but it frazzles a lifelong manual-transmission-driver like me to hear that engine roar and let it go.

Whenever I cross a major pass like this, the moments after are like entering Shangri La or Brigadoon.  Maybe it’s just the relief of making it out of the pass that makes whatever lies on the other side look more verdant, more idyllic, more peaceful than any place I’ve ever seen.  The valley that unfolds on the west side of Wolf Creek Pass was no exception. And, Pagosa Springs, at its heart, is a fun little town with an eclectic mix of seniors road tripping in RVs and craft beer-fueled climbers, kayakers and mountain bikers.  Our destination in Pagosa was Elk Trace B&B, a facility that serves largely as human lodgings but offers facilities for folks bringing their own horses. 

Unfortunately, the Elk Trace folks were surprised to see our dusty truck and trailer pulling up their drive.  Our reservations, made back in April, had been lost and there was some mad scrambling to find accommodations for us and the boys.  Recognizing that as horse-people, we’d first want to know our horses were comfortable, Evelyn (our gracious hostess) ran out to the barn in her sandals and nice blouse to shift horses and make space.  Once they were settled, she showed us her only available room in the bunkhouse.

‘Bunkhouse’ means different things to different people.  In this case, when this bunkhouse is completed, it will mean some pretty swank accommodations that just happen to have single beds and a shared bath facility.  But, for now it is still a work in progress with the bathroom walls being sanded and painted and the path to get to the toilet a bit of a precarious walk through a garage filled with equipment.  Still, we were exhausted and took her kind offer to let us stay there free if we paid for horse boarding and our breakfasts.

In the morning, she served us a stellar breakfast on a very nice veranda that was abuzz with humming birds coming to a half dozen feeders .  After breakfast, we took a ride from her property to BLM land and found a logging road that made for impeccable riding with spectacular views.  (None of which convey in photos because of the high level smoke) And, I found some really cool elk antlers.

All in all, Pagosa Springs and Elk Trace B&B are big hits.  Still, I booked us into a motel in town for the remaining two nights in Pagosa.  Midnight, flashlight-lit, garage-crossings to pee aren’t my brand of roughing it.