Hutchinson KS to Colorado City CO

My father describes the monotony of the Kansas landscape: "A noticeable fact here is that the land is open and flat, with almost no forest land. The unending panorama stretched out before us on both sides for miles and miles, growing fainter and fainter in the distance...." Not much has changed in this regard. Kitty and I had prepared ourselves for the plains, and were pleased to find ourselves content enough, having to allow that we are "easily amused." We are following the Santa Fe trail (50 W), and although it is two lane most of the way, the speed limit is a peppy 65.

We were clipping along when a cop pulled us over, catching Kitty going 74 mph. Our first response was that it gave us something to write about in the blog (other than a string of pro-life posters, there is little to note on this road). We had of course thought of ourselves as Thelma and Louise much of the time, but found instead that we grew very docile at this point (and the cop turned out to be quite nice as well, not at all cocky and no reflector glasses). As it was, he let us off with a warning, and we were careful to stay well within bounds for the rest of the day.

We were excited by the prospect of Dodge City, which has managed to recreate a small taste of its imagined past with "Boot Hill," a recreated western street at the site of the former cemetery. The recreation obviously owes a lot to Gunsmoke. The town, like much of western Kansas, smelled of beef: a musty bovine smell of sweat and hide. Upon arriving at Kansas City, SKR notes "the suggestive odor of slaughtered swine floted up to us as we crossed the bridge." This was cow, not swine, but equally suggestive. We seem to be in the west at last.

The landscape was enhanced by the beautiful day, and when we pulled off to check out traces of wagon tracks from the Santa Fe trail (signs proudly advertise "ruts"), we were struck with the wildflowers and the birds and that constant wind. It's stark, but strikingly lovely and full of life.


The landscape grew more dramatic as we moved into Colorado. A small town my father had noted as famed for it's cantaloupe (Rocky Ford) still boasted melon on its town sign, although the fields were just recently prepared for planting and the fruit stands were empty. As we approached Pueblo, the earth took on a beautiful golden color, and the snow capped mountains were clearly visible in the west.

We are staying two nights at the Antlers, the same hotel (though rebuilt) that the Russell's stayed in. This will be the only time we have managed this level of replication, and we have a large corner room with a view of Pike's Peak. The town is wonderful and much like Asheville--lots of energy and incredible scenery. After 8 hours of driving, it feels great to be off the road and settled for a couple of days. We are thoroughly enjoying ourselves and are very happy to be in Colorado.