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WILD WEST SPOOK-OUT!
"If this is America, where's all the crap?"
That's what I kept asking myself on our weekend jaunt into UFO country. Where was the crap? Where were the fast food joints, gift shops, billboards, and all the rest? Well, there was at least one sign I'll wager most of you have never seen. Two, actually, but more on that later.
Southern Colorado is a special place, something I'd be afraid to publicize except that most of you would never show up anyway. This is the real deal, a region of big medicine where something odd is going on, a spot where representatives of all the world's major religions are supposedly tucked away, back in the hills. That's the lore at least, though what exactly would all these clerics be doing here, assuming this is true? Keeping an eye on things? Holding their places in the receiving line for when Something Big happens?? "Hi, glad to meet you, and yes, we do represent the one true faith on the planet!" This is amazing country, at any rate. Shrines, temples, retreats, and such are everywhere. The truth is out there, but when you find it, you might not believe your eyes. For example:
Look at the picture above, the eastern terminus of a humongous stretch of 700 foot high sand dunes right up against the Rocky Mountains. These are the Great Sand Dunes, soon to be a national park. It's easily the most bizarre natural feature I've ever laid eyes on and really looks otherworldly in the winter with snow on it. According to one of the signs, the Rio Grande used to wind through this corner of the San Luis Valley before an unknown cataclysm shifted it miles away to the west. The same source also said that the dunes may have been created through a confluence of prevailing wind currents that somehow caused airborne grains of sand to fall, one after another, in that exact spot. Well, maybe. You could just as easily blame it on unknown beings camoflaging a dimensional portal. Seems like a good place for one. There was definitely a presence of some sort, though the vibes were remarkably positive. Taking a turn at a snow-covered nature walk, we both felt positively giddy. It was just that much of an improbably empty but happy space. We were just about the only folks around, but I didn't feel particularly lonesome.
A little way down the road, we saw a roadsign like no other Then just around the bend, I saw them! When I took the picture below, there was nothing between me and them but air and a '91 Nissan. As we drove on, I marveled at our luck: for a few minutes there in 21st century America, we'd been alone in the West with a herd of buffalo! My head was spinning from the wonder of it all as I drove us out to the main highway and headed north past the, uh, alligator farm (!). . . yes, there is an alligator-raising operation out there in one of the coldest places in the 48 states. How can this be? Well, what would you do if you drilled a well in a frigid alpine valley and found yourself the proud owner of an 80+ degree artesian gusher? The man who did, decided to raise gators. I keep telling myself I've got to get myself out there to see the big reptiles steaming in their lava-heated pools. A limitless supply of hot water and gators at 8,000 feet, wow. Is this a great planet or what? Do you think anybody else knows? (Yow!)
Next stop, Crestone! ("AAAAGHHH!") There, I've named it, but so what? I don't live there and you don't either. This is where the Pope's representative hangs out with lamas and medicine men, remember. This is "the spot." In fact, there's so much weirdo energy boiling up out of the ground, it's inconceivable to me that wealthy weekenders would go ahead and move in. Some have, however, just down the road from sites of documented paranormal events and repeated UFO sightings neither they nor their mortgage brokers seem to know about. Then again, perhaps they do, and that's why they're there. The thing is, my wife has an immediate reaction to Crestone: she hates it! And I don't mean she thinks the houses are ugly. It's like all of a sudden she's channelling some weird kind of energy that's distinctly "not good." I sense something similar, but only a little bit. Look at those peaks rising up behind the little village: this is known as being between the proverbial rock and a hard place!. There seem to be a lot of alternative types drawn to this enclave, but while that would normally ring our chimes, this ain't our place. The woo-woo is just too strong and well, "alien," for lack of a better word. Raw spiritual energy isn't all flowers and incense, you know. It's more like an invisible hurricane, a giant underground river of doom, nothing comforting at all, stuff that'll strip you naked and send you straight to heaven or hell. Yes, there is something there, but it doesn't exactly agree with us. There's something about that place that reminds me of prey offering itself willingly to the hunter. Take care, I say.
And onward we rolled, all the way to snowy Poncha Pass. After we'd climbed into the clouds and descended into the valley beyond, it disappeared! Suddenly we had gained a month on the season, it seemed. The reason is that even bigger, scarier mountains to the west actually block the snow, and there's also a "hole" in the end of the valley where the cold air drains out. We spent the night in Salida, the lovely little burg that occupies this favored spot. It boasts a number of brick Victorian homes, at least one fabulous restaurant with a Web site, and a college where you can take courses in composting. Cool!
I had my iBook with me to download pictures, but I never tried to go online and loved the break! This unaccustomed bliss and our amazing pizza dinners made me think we had discovered another place where one might think of starting life anew. Unfortunately, the crap started up again there as well. A 20-mile sortie farther north in the morning proved the truth of this, so we made a U-turn and headed home. The best parts of Colorado are where the people aren't, but be prepared for big-time spooky. Oh, and bring your Harley if you have one.
See?
NOTICE:
Applelinks is changing, and I'm changing with it. Next week I'll have a completely new column in in this place: "GRACK!" will concentrates on the Internet, Macs, and the day-to-day trials of he who does all this. You should expect plenty of sharp commentary, some how-to items like "Stupid HTML Tricks," and even a photo or two. Find out what "grack" means, too.
Accordingly, with this edition I bring the "old" FARR SITE era to a close. I want to use the name for a new FARR SITE column that will expand into even more real life subjects as it moves temporarily to The ZOOZONE. If you're not already subscribed to my Farr Site News mailing list, just click here so you won't miss out on everything that's coming. You can also read the very latest column info at the Farr Site Info Area of FARRFEED (take a look!).
John H. Farr also edits the news for Applelinks.com and invites your comments (especially compliments). The Farr Site Archives will take you to the past three years of columns, so read 'em fast while they're still here and free (!). John also sometimes writes an op-ed page column called "El Emigrante" for Horse Fly in Taos, NM. His current project is building a completely new ZOOZONE and trying to syndicate the FotoFeed daily image page.
The FARR SITE is © copyright 2001, John H. Farr, all rights reserved.
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