Day 69: Telluride to Dolores
Distance: 65 mi.
Elevation gain: 2,448 ft
10AM: Leave Telluride via gondola, ride thru Mountain Village on hale and able legs; descend into San Juan forests and snow-topped San Miguel mountain passes. Our faces gleam as we swoop over another 10,000 foot pass, bellies still plump from Telluride sumptuousness.
Poked around Rico, desolation of fifty years miner town decline waylaid by Telluride sprawl, a few artists and pop-up shops draw passers-by off the road. We each eat three tacos, then shuttle between a coffee shop and an ice cream stand to construct an affogato, blowing the $25 food budget for the day.
Circle back to town entry point to hunt for the hot springs Max had described as “left on a dirt road once you cross the river.” There are several dirt roads and we roam around until we find some No Trespassing signs, which point us in the right direction; the spring is meticulously crafted, apparently by a free range of locals, but the main pipe delivering the gassy, sulfuric spring water is too corroded and the hot water isn’t making it to the tub. Bummer, but we’ve got miles to slap down and there’s no time for dilly-dallying in a cold tub.
30 miles later I pull off into Dolores River Campground, it’s a private RV park at the northern entrance to town. A night’s stay costs $18; woman running the inn is hospitable but I raise concerns about spending so much money our first day after so much coddling. A rather ugly scene emerges as I try to convince Lizzie we’ll find somewhere to stealth camp if we go just a few more miles. Lizzie raises her standard list of objections: bears, mountain lions, angry people with guns, etc. It rubs me the wrong way that the de facto nightly plan must be either a zoned campground or somewhere indoors. There are hundreds of acres for each inhabitant of these small, run-down towns; and even if somebody did notice us camping quietly in the woods, would they really give us a hard time?
It’s not worth creating misery over — Lizzie is quickly becoming miserable as people in the campground gawk at what is mostly my indecisiveness — so we pay the fee and settle into what by all standards is a very pleasant campground.
How much adventure is the right amount for a single day? A more constructive path would be to add a little more uncertainty every day until it starts feeling right. I make a pact to myself to look for opportunities to veer the course that’s emerging ahead of me. Not too much, but enough to make the line dotted rather than solid.
