The evening time of September the 8th in the year of our Lord 2011 found me grateful to be alive. We drove from Bernilillo, New Mexico to Ouray, Colorado on highway 550. The later half of this trip, the stretch from Durango to Ouray is the scariest road I’ve ever driven in my entire life. If you are ever in the mood to jolt the living peewaddin out of yourself, this is the way to go. It’s a thrill a minute and terrors galore. Miles and miles and miles of narrow winding 2 lane road with no guard rails and hairpin turns. My knuckles are still white.
I wonder how many people have died of a heart attack on that road. I’m a changed woman. When we finally arrived at the Ouray campground I gave serious thought to going home and never leaving my house again. But then I’d miss out on all that fun/heart stopping adventure.
In the future I will pay much more attention to the difference between “peak” and “pass” on the map. I thought we were going to have a lovely view driving by the mountains safely in the lowlands. Instead we drove over not one but 3 mountain passes. Coal Bank pass, 10,640 Ft., Molas 10,910 Ft. and Red Mountain Pass at a whopping 11,008 Ft. I didn’t even know one could breathe at that altitude.
After creeping around one particularly hairy turn which looked like I was driving right out into the sky, I contemplated pulling over and calling for a helicopter rescue. The only thing that gave me the courage to continue was the that I would never hear the end of it from Mr. Husband. He would tease me about it to my dying day.
The next morning we went to the visitors center and asked them which way was the flattest way out of town.