My friend Chris and I took an opportunity to visit our old friend Steve up at his family’s cabin in Westcliffe, Colorado, this last weekend.

The opportunity bubbled up quickly, albeit a month ago, when an idea became three yes’s, and a near future date was set.

Chris and Steve and I have all known each other since high school, and thankfully, our friendships have deepened over time.

Steve is my main conspirator in an ongoing texting dialogue about all things major league baseball, but our roots have long lied in a shared faith- an aspect of life that all three of us connect strongly through.

When my life fell apart in Chicago after the turn of the millennium, I spent a lot of time at Steve and his wife’s home after returning to Albuquerque. Among our bonds, Steve and I played catch with a baseball a lot at that time as a way to relax, talk about life things, and stretch out a bit.

After a few years, Steve accepted a job in Colorado that took he and his family there, and outside of a periodic meet for coffee when he was visiting town, we hadn’t seen each other extensively for a long while.

It was a good weekend for Chris and I to drive up north and meet up with him.

And with any good trip, it was also a good time for Chris and I to enjoy some scenic by-ways and some attractions coming and going.

And so we left Friday morning and took I-25 north and then east and then north again, headed for Raton, but with a little flex in our arrival schedule, we made a stop at a National Monument neither of us had been to.

We detoured east of Raton for nearly 25 miles to roll up on Capulin Volcano National Monument, and after a stop at the visitor center to check in and watch a short film on the volcano, we drove the road around and up the low peak to reach the visitor’s parking at the low place on the mound’s summit.

Capulin is a cinder cone, and as such, is pretty symmetric as a pointed hill. At its top, a small cauldron dips where a peak would be, the result of gases and materials blasting out of the earth straight into the sky for a long period. The monument features a rim trail around the high bowl which offers remarkable views in all directions of the surrounding terrain- into 3 other states outside of New Mexico as well (Colorado, Texas, and Oklahoma).

Chris and I walked the rim trail and appreciated the views and the meaning of the park, stopped at a nearby store for some refreshments, and then we were back on the road.

We were soon in Trinidad, Colorado, and then in Walsenburg, where we got off of I-25 and onto State Highway 69 which took us into the wilderness and towards the Sangre de Cristo mountains. We passed through Farisita and Gardner before driving north next to the mountain range for a short while, which was a sight we enjoyed. And then we arrived in little Whitecliffe, a contained sprawl in the valley, where we hopped onto a rural road and headed west a bit to get to the development that hosted Steve’s cabin.

After happy greetings and meeting Steve’s awesome rescue brown lab, Jake- or “Jake from Allstate”, as I called him all weekend- we spent some time in a meadow near the cabin, just enjoying the developing evening and talking before we went inside for a later dinner.

With sunrise at 5:40 on Saturday morning, I was up- if anything because I sleep so poorly of late- and seeing red light over the area, I dressed quickly and headed outside to see what I could see at sunrise- which involved deer in a nearby depression eating, awaking mountains warming in the background.

Once the sun was over the horizon, I jumped in my truck and wandered back down the country road, quickly finding more deer near it, and then crossing it, as well as solitary trees in ranch land fields, a stream, horses in a pasture, and views of fields beneath the mountain range.

When I returned to the cabin, we three piled into Steve’s old 4Runner and headed into town for a destination breakfast at the heralded Main Street Amish establishment, Sugar and Spice Mountain Bakery, where we purchased what people visit them for: frosted cinnamon rolls of significant flavor and size, and fritters. We didn’t skimp, and I picked up a lemon dessert bar along with my breakfast for later enjoyment.

After breakfast, we walked up and down the short Main Street for a bit of exercise, and then we went back to the cabin, where Steve drove us around the development’s loop of lots tucked into trees on the skirt of the mountain. Once back at the cabin, conversations and naps ensued as clouds settled over the valley and provided us with late afternoon rumbles and the patter of rain on the building.

After a rest and the rain stalled, Chris and I took a walk as a local came to visit Steve, and after the walk, we enjoyed the vistas and cool air of the ending day in the nearby meadow. We made and enjoyed a late and savory steak, tater wedges, and broccoli dinner, followed by some warm mini fruit pies for dessert. With clouds over the valley yet, a potential plan to spend time looking at bright stars outside settled into additional talk time before we turned in.

And Sunday morning, again, red light crept into my room again at sunrise as I awoke, and I was gain quickly dressed and outside to see what the morning was offering. Less active with animals and dramatic than the day before, I opted to simply sit on a bench in the meadow, enjoying the quiet and watching light fill the valley for twenty minutes before going back in the cabin to sleep in a little more.

Mid-morning, I arose to catch Steve feeding a gang of wild turkeys that live around his property and had gathered near his front porch. I enjoyed the zoo moment, and then Chris returned from a morning walk, and we then made and enjoyed breakfast- waffles and scrambled eggs with steak- and packed up camp and pulled sheets for laundry before engaging in the one activity we had scheduled for the weekend.

Some time to play catch with the baseball.

We enjoyed it, throwing the ball in a triangle in the back meadow, and we kept Jake participating and engaged as well.

After catch, we took a few group pictures together on the porch of Camp Spriggs, and then prepped to depart. As a few neighbors visited Steve at the cabin, Chris and I got our stuff in the truck, and Chris made two sandwiches for the road, so that as the neighbors left, we too were ready to hit the road.

We said our goodbyes and then around 1 PM we left, armed with knowledge of an alternative scenic route to lead us out of Colorado.

The first leg of that route took us under graying skies east out of Westcliffe via State Route 165 towards Hardscrabble Pass, the line of peaks of the Sangres filling my rear-view mirror. Summiting the hill, we then came upon Bishop Castle- and had to stop. An unregulated building thrown up seemingly randomly off the road, the curious monstrosity was clearly well-visited as we approached it, conveyed by two aisles of cars lining the road shoulders by the entrance. Constructed by maverick builder Jim Bishop, this structure, his life work, is a interesting attraction that young and old can climb upon and through.

Chris and I were glad we stopped, checked out the castle, and then lived to tell about it.

Our drive continued, taking us down the mountain, past picturesque San Isabel Lake and its surrounding national forest, on down through Roy, and into Colorado City, where we connected with I-25 and took it into Walsenburg. There, we departed onto our second Colorado scenic drive, heading west on U.S. 160 to La Veta, where we hopped on Colorado 12 and drove south, to Cuchara and on into the Cuchara Valley, west of the Spanish Peaks.

Cuchara is Spanish for “spoon”, so the Cuchara area got its name for its resemblance to a spoon, and of
geological note, driving by the base of the West Spanish Peak, I was surprised to see some vertical rock fins near the road that I learned were igneous dikes- upshoots of magma that cooled into tilted rock walls- just like the dikes extending away from Shiprock in NM. Evidently, the Spanish Peaks host a number of them in the area.

Colorado 12 in Cuchara Valley features a mixture of aspen and fir reaching up over a creek valley, and has to be incredibly lovely in the fall.

Passing two small and pretty lakes in our wooded ascent toward Cucharas Pass, the sky darkened over the peaks to our west, and light rain greeted us as we began our descent down the mountain. In time we were skirting dark clouds near Weston, and then entering them, and finally a heavy rain/light hail deluge that blurred visibility and made us pull over for a few under a tree near Ringo’s Super Trading Post in Segundo, Colorado. When we could see, we left the assembly of parked travelers around us and moved on, away from the layer of white on the road and the store and station lots by it, into the tempered drizzle. And I was thankful for a truck with high ground clearance and four wheel drive to make plowing on pretty easy.

And then we were in Trinidad, Colorado- out in front of the cloud front a bit- where we grabbed a bite to eat and used the facilities, and leaned into our final push home. For a short time, mammatus clouds swelled behind us as we came over Raton Pass, but soon we were in evening light, and the rest of the ride home was less riveting. We enjoyed a pretty sunset around Las Vegas, NM, as we shifted from Garrison Keillor yarns to 80’s music on the CD player, and we slipped into memory bliss as the sun fell behind the Sangre de Cristos by Santa Fe.

It had been a great weekend with some old friends, and in a short time, Chris and I were back in Albuquerque, grateful to spend time with Steve in his newly adopted town, grateful to get away for a few days, and grateful to also be back home.