The plains stretched westward. On and on, for a thousand miles or more. They cleared any obstacles and filled the land with light. They filled it with a sense of space. They filled it with corn. Onward they pushed until they could push no further. Their load had become too great. And so they stacked before them, as a great line of demarcation, the Rocky mountains. Tall, magnificent with snow covered peaks and green valleys.

In front of the mountains, to mark the end of their domain, they placed Denver. They filled it with friendly people. People who will take the time to stop and talk. Most cities have a central area of interest and so does Denver. Its centre is a mile and a half long and is serviced, continuously, back and forth, by a free bus. There is one passing, at least every five minutes. The state capital building sits at one end. We had a guided tour around it, with a volunteer guide, who was welcoming, knowledgeable and passionate about his subject. Thank you sir. That was as enjoyable as it was interesting. The steps in front mark the mile-high level of the city.

The Colorado history museum was fascinating but, as with many of these places, one day is not enough to see it all.  The railway station has been beautifully restored. It is still a functioning station, but the old ticket office, while maintaining it’s look and charm, is now a bar. You can sit and have a beer and pretend you are selling train tickets, through the hatches onto the main concourse. We did!

Back on the road today to tackle the mountains. These mountain passes must have been daunting to the early pioneers, who trekked and wagoned across them, on rough, broken, narrow trails, with steep ascents and descents and river crossings, cliffs and marshes. I have to confess that it is a little easier on Interstate 70, but that doesn’t mean that we did not need to be tough and fearless adventurers. Indeed we did. At times, there wasn’t a coffee stop for almost an hour.

What a gorgeous route. Red rock cliffed passes. Meandering river corses. Snow on the peaks and sunshine on the valleys. Holiday towns. Residential towns. Ski resorts. Camping grounds. And all the time watching out for the deer, the eagles and the articulated lorries that swing a little too close. Especially them!

We approached Moab by the stunningly beautiful Route 128. A red cliffed valley along the Colorado river. As the sun went down, the silhouetted mountains struck wonderful shapes across the skyline. They guide us to a nights refuge. Good times!