May 4, 2014.  We awoke to the sun coming up over the snowy peaks and lighting up the single white aspen in front of our trailer — yet another change in our magical dining room wallpaper.  I think that is my favorite part of camping.  That, and everything else.

We did a pretty nippish morning routine of (i) showering, (ii) making up the bed while stepping over and around Doris, (iii) fixing breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, (iv) cleaning up same, (v) transferring a million pictures from the cameras to the computer, (vi) writing yesterday’s blog post, (vii) securing all the interior systems for travel (bungee cord the TV, disassemble and store the two lamps, clean the shower and bathroom, make sure all the fans and pumps are turned off, shake the three rugs and sweep the floor), and (viii) whatever Brad does.

On the road by 10 am, we set out across the rest of highway 24 through the beautiful Saint Ishmael (or Mother Isabelle or something like that) National Forest, which kept our heads whipping around and camera clicking.  Brad suggested that I use his camera today, as it is a thousand times better in every way than the camera on my iPad and he figures there is little I could do to destroy it while he is sitting there in the driver’s seat listening to my comments such as “I wonder what this button does.”  It is a fabulous camera.  I want one now (except that it does not fit in my purse — or my car, for that matter).

We came across Wilkerson Pass in Pike National Forest and decided to stop.  Man!  I’m so glad we did.  The views from there made the entire State of Utah seem like a clownish Pixar cartoon.  I savored the more human-scale beauty of the miles-long vistas over wheat-colored fields of grass,  familiar aspens (now finally budding with tiny seed pod looking things), nice normal-colored boulders in the foreground, and the Colorado snow-covered mountains in the distance.  You may think this sounds very much the same as what I have been describing for two weeks but it was softer and more beautiful for its believability.  I ran around in it without fear of death.

Fun fact about aspens: while they do produce seeds, they mainly propagate by spreading their roots, so that great stands of aspens are likely to be genetically identical — essentially one tremendous tree!  I don’t know why, but that seems creepy to me.  It makes them seem like one big Siamese twin.  Brad says that’s ridiculous.  He’s usually right.

Click, click, click.  Brad’s camera is intoxicating.  As we left the mountainous area and approached I-70, we moved into the high plains part of Colorado.  We stopped for a late lunch in Simla (incorporated 1912, elevation 6500 ft, population 500), at the Country Corner Cafe, a tiny family-owned restaurant.  Our waitress, the daughter, reminded us both of you, Mardi!  She was impossibly skinny and effervescent, and sat with us to take our orders.  When we inquired about various menu options, she would say things like, “Wow, if you haven’t tasted my Dad’s green chile sauce you haven’t lived!”  I ordered an open-faced cheeseburger with her Dad’s green chili sauce.  Turns out, I hadn’t lived before that.  They also do take-out and delivery:  the phone rang while we were eating and the daughter/waitress listened for a while and said, “Got it.  I’ll go find my Mom and see if she can bring it over to you.”  (Note, no address inquiry necessary).  Her Mom is also a skillful potter; her wares were displayed all over the one-room restaurant.  I bought a small shallow dish that I have been looking for for years — exactly the same diameter as one of those hummus containers that you hate to put on the table for company but do anyway.  Problem solved!

Once we got on I-70, Colorado began to look a lot like Kansas.  Kansas looks like what you would expect — endless, flat, productive farm land.  We covered a lot of ground and still are in the western part of Kansas.  Our campsite here is a commercial one, but kind of funky in a nice way.  Right here at our disposal are an antiques store (specializing in rusty farm implements and banana-seat bicycles from what I can see from here), a steakhouse that was favorably-touted at the Kansas welcome center, a laun-dro-mat, a miniature golf course, and wild rabbits everywhere!  Doris is insane with desire to be unsupervised for a few minutes.

As I write this (Monday morning), Brad is fixing scrambled eggs, bacon and flaky biscuits.   Life is good as we set off for eastern Kansas.  This is one long state!