Back to the ranch

At the end of the 1990 spring semester, my best friend, Trisha, her brother, Russ, and I piled into their Nissan and set out on a long road/camping trip.

Our first stop was Altadena, California, where we stayed a couple of nights,

Russ and Sally

which was longer than planned,

with my parents.

Venice Beach

From there, we headed up the coast...

in front of Mt Shasta

and into Canada.

Wild Rose Campground in Hope, British Columbia

We visited Lake Louise...

Lake Louise

and Calgary...

Spruce Meadows

before dropping back into the United States via the Waterton Glacier International Peace Park.

Our last major stop was Yellowstone.

Echinus Geyser

We returned to Russ and Trisha's house for a couple short days of rest, which was not nearly enough.

Trish and Amie Fille

Then we got back in the car again and drove to Mancos, where I planned to work that summer.

I'd had a similar job the previous year at a ranch outside of Pueblo. 

That was a remote, gorgeous property nestled deep in the Colorado mountains.

I was expecting something similar.

What I got was a collection of small, boxy, red buildings on the side of a county road.

Granted, I was still recovering from that road trip, but also, I'd never seen anything so underwhelming.

Part of me felt like going back to Wellington with Trish and Russ, but of course, I didn't do that.

Instead, I stuck it out and had one of the best summers of my entire life.

Don't judge a book by its cover, and all that.

In October 2017, I returned to the Mancos with my family.

Of course, I made everyone go look at the Ranch.

It was closed for the season, and the signs made it abundantly clear that we were not welcome to enter the property.

Still, I could see enough to know that despite the new name, it looked pretty much the same.

Not majestic, but awesome.

As we were leaving, Seth told me it wasn't what he'd expected. 

I laughed and said, "I bet you were expecting something a little more majestic."

Earlier this week, Karen and I made that same drive up County Rd N in Mancos.

Again, we were out of season. 

No one was answering the phone, so we obeyed the signs and didn't enter the property.

Well mostly.

It's possible I slipped through a little gap in the fence to take a picture of the one building that still bears the Ranch's true original name.

Happy sigh.

As we were leaving, Karen said, "That's not how I pictured it."

"I know," I said. "It never is."

But I also know that there's only so much you can see from the side of the road.

the Mavericks

You're just going to have to trust me when I say that place is magic.

I'm so glad I got to spend a summer there.

Whiskers and me

I will always want to go back.