With no wind no one slept much the last night in Nevada but despite that, the extra trip in from the gate for the camera and some fumbling around getting the chain right we were

down the road June 26 at 8:25, 78 degrees and rising.

Fifty minutes later we pulled up to twenty-five minutes of construction delay but after the

pilot car left us on the road again…Fernley, Fallon, the flats, all in all beautiful for a drive. Beyond Dixie Valley it began dropping from Fallon’s mid-morning nineties to the low eighties

for most of the rest of the day. Onwards to Austin, unfriendliest town on the loneliest road,

which was fortuitously negotiated with neither stop nor speed trap. That behind us and

Bob Scott too populous, Robert’s Creek Road, although close to five hours out, is now our

New Default for Dogs and lunch…or, heading west, just dogs after breakfast in Eureka.

Dogs ‘n’ lunch done, eastwards to Ely, an hour after Ely the Border and then

that long zoned-out haul into another Time [Mountain Daylight], 88 to Delta [“Delta 88”],

gas at seven in Salina and I-70

over the Swell where dogs ran briefly free at Temple Mount Road

before the descent to Green River, 8:25, 90 degrees, eleven hours door to door but the hour’s wait for a burger at the Tamarisk was way beyond our depleted capabilities.  We took leftover chicken, apples and wine in an icechest to our room but despite the local TV news didn’t sleep well that night either so were away a little late, eight maybe, with a cup of First Choice Inn’s coffee but no, no thank you [learned our lesson last time], breakfast “burritos”.

Twenty miles east we turned south, taking evasive action to bypass not only the tedious slog down the west slope through the Gunnison, Monarch Pass and the Arkansas of a summer Sunday but even more urgently to avoid the crowd departing CountryJam in Bobertland*. Traffic on 191 was not as bad as expected nor was finding food in Moab. Despite the hordes

thronging the sidewalks outside the hippier joints The Moab Garage Co. was sweet and swell for huevos rancheros which we took to the shade across the street beside a shuttered food truck,

Inkies leashed to chairs and not too much trouble.  We spent an hour, all in all, then continued,

letting the dogs out somewhere partway- beautiful edge of the slickrock country, traffic despite lots of semis easy enough. Left off 191 at Monticello on what once was 666 until the Christians got ahold of it, 60 miles of amazing architecture [and one hotrod Ford] to Cortez where 160

came trickling in from points west. Beyond Mesa Verde things got ever more densely recreationally suburban; the drive from Durango to Pagosa Springs was particularly ridiculous, culminating in the utter absurdity of gridlocked downtown Pagosa.  How is it Utah handles the tourism crunch in Moab so well while Colorado fails so miserably here? Maybe it was the time of day but…arrr. It took a while but once out of THAT town things opened up over Wolf Creek

nicely…Down the other side, with an extended stop at the Alamosa Safeway for ten days’ food,

I drove as far as Fort Garland, last gas.  L. then navigated La Veta Pass,Yellowstone Road and,

after seven months, home to the greenest meadows and cleanest house ever.

*Mesa County, Lauren’s home turf.  They advertised it was in Grand Junction, bad enough, but really it was west of there, Loma or Mack or some such, poised to pour 35 or 50,000 hungover celebrants onto the interstate early Sunday morning several miles west of town.  Uh-oh, but no…we hung the left on 191 and felt pretty good about it until Durango. Felt pretty good about it after Pagosa Springs, too. Weren’t feeling too good otherwise; wrung out and dizzy from our Ailments both days’ driving.