Starting mileage: 7,966
Ending mileage: 8,342
Gas purchased in Price, CO: $4.90 per gallon
Gas purchased in Delta, CO: $4.27 per gallon
When I started this adventure, I decided to limit my travels to @ 300 miles a day and no more than 5-hours driving. Steadfast in this mission, I’ve overestimated the time needed to get from one place to the other. Since most rentals have after-3:00 check-ins, I can easily travel 4 hours on the same day as check-in. I only need 1 night’s stay between Park City and Denver, but I have 2. I contact Tonia, the owner of the VRBO in Denver to see if I can add another night at the beginning of my trip, but the place is not available.
I take to my trusty AAA map and Airbnb website to find an interesting place to spend 2 nights, when I come upon a loft apartment in the barn at Tongue Creek Ranch, a 70-acre working ranch in Delta, CO. At $100 a night, it’s cheaper than any of the nondescript motels I’m finding midway between Park City and Denver. Arden, grab your cowboy hat, we’re going to the ranch!
We have a lot of space at the ranch, both inside and out. The loft has a large great room, with a kitchen on one end and living room on the other. The spacious bedroom has a queen-sized bed, a nook with a twin bed and desk, and a sitting area with a recliner. The long narrow bathroom, with a dresser at one end, makes for a great dressing area. There are 4 rustic hooks to hang your towels or clothes on, which actually work better than towel racks.
We arrive around 4:30, so we have time to drive into town for dinner and get back in time to see the sunset beyond the Adobe Buttes with the backdrop of the Grand Mesa, as stated in the Airbnb listing. The house rules book recommends places to eat in Delta, about a 10-minute drive. “Comfort food” sounds good so we drive to The Stockyards on the outside of town. There’s no outdoor seating and the parking lot is 80% pickup trucks. While not unusual for a rural town, it looks a bit honky-tonky-ish for Arden and me. We head back into the main part of town and opt for takeout from Daveto’s Italian Restaurant where there is a waiting list for tables and a line at the takeout counter. The spaghetti and meatballs do not disappoint.
As advertised, the sunset is gorgeous. There’s a large balcony facing west with Adirondack chairs where I eat dinner and watch the sun go down, and when it does, it is pitch dark. I’ve not been in this situation in a long time, and never since getting Arden. Even with an iPhone flashlight, taking him out for his last potty run for the night is treacherous. Tomorrow night, we’ll go out before dark.
The ranch has probably 40 horses spread out in multiple pens. They are beautiful, and the flies think so too. There are 100’s of flies on their faces when I pet them which is why the majority of them wear fly masks. I don’t think Arden has ever been around horses. He walks toward them with his sniffing nose held high until they neigh, and then he runs as far as his leash will allow him. Since Arden rarely leaves my side, I decide to let him off the leash. Within 10 minutes, he runs thorough mud and rolls in horse shit. Lovely.
I haven’t met Barb who I’ve been communicating with about the rental, but frequently see her husband David who works non-stop on the ranch mowing, feeding horses, moving hay bales, hauling water tanks, and such. He directs me to a chained off area with a little shed for a water hose to bathe Arden and clean the crap off his collar and harness. I hook up the loose hose to an old-fashioned red water pump where you lift up the handle to turn the water on, or at least I thought that’s what you did. I lift the handle and nothing happens. Feeling like a city slicker, I’m determined not to bother David again as he is training a new intern. After several tries, I call Barb for instructions but she doesn’t answer. Exasperated, I try again, pulling up the handle harder this time, and the water begins to flow. Ahh, country girl will survive!
My mantra for this trip is “Don’t Worry. Be Curious.” It’s a cross between the Bobby McFerrin song, “Don’t Worry Be Happy,” and the Walt Whitman quote “Be Curious Not Judgmental” reenergized by Ted Lasso’s kickass dart game. One day I will devote a whole post to this, but for now, just know that I repeat this phrase when I start worrying about where I’ll live or what I’ll do when my travels end.
Seeing David work hard 7 days a week reminds me of my father who was a farmer. When I was a little girl, I wanted to marry my Dad. I think that’s pretty common. At least I hope so. As I grew older, I said, “I’ll never marry a farmer.” They work all the time in the heat and in the cold, and they never get a day off. Dad died when I was 15, so my thoughts of him froze in time.
As I travel, I am taking note of what I like (or don’t like) to consider when I settle down. From my ranch weekend, two observations. I really like having a row of hooks in the bathroom. And as much as I enjoyed the wide open spaces, I like living close enough to a community where I can walk Arden and get coffee each morning. Delta has an awesome coffee shop, Moca Joes, but it requires a 10-minute drive. My Apple watch reports more steps when I’m in a walking town like West Hollywood or Park City, and it’s dangerous to walk on country roads where there are no sidewalks and bends in the road that make it hard for drivers to see you. On the ranch, there are acres to walk but not really a destination. I guess I like knowing where I’m going to end up which is why I repeat my mantra multiple times a day.
