A Grand day (Of peaches and plateaus)

View nearing the top of Grand Mesa

All these years of Grand Junction as a spot on the highway – a place to eat or spend the night – demanded further exploration. Colorado National Monument glowed in the morning sun.

I hit the road quickly, looping through Grand Junction to find the downtown I didn’t have the energy to explore the previous night. The Main Street Mall had a handful of breakfast spots, a few homeless sleeping in alleys and otherwise quiet plazas.

One homeless man quickened when he saw my camera, urging me to photograph a large nearby homeless camp. I couldn't do that - Colorado Springs' homeless population is staggering, and we face it every day with no easy answers in sight.

Instead I stuck with street art and the sculptures that adorned Main Street, from a giant metal bison to steel gorillas to an ant eyeing an apple core (see photos). Many of the places that would have attracted me didn’t open till later in the day, and would have to wait for the next Grand Junction visit (hint – it won’t take 16 years).

Main Street bison

Wells Fargo bison

Main Street Mall gorillas

My personal favorite

 As morning warmed up, I had reorient for my purpose in coming out there - peaches, mainly the Palisade Peach Festival. A few summer days dedicated to western Colorado’s signature stone fruit seemed an easy reason for a Grand Valley jaunt. Nevermind that errant fireworks started a fire the night before – and the smoke still lingered over the eastern part of the valley – I was headed for Palisade, a few miles to the east.

Mt. Garfield, high point of the Book Cliffs

Down U.S. 6 on the way into Palisade, a roadside orchard triggered my need for peaches. Suddenly orchards were everywhere, and the trees were flush with peaches. I swung around in a meadery parking lot decided that Brown’s Orchard would be my picking spot. I had my choice of small basket, large basket or box, and small basket seemed like enough.

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The instructions were simple – go to the first row and work your way down. The work only required picking ripe peaches from a half-dozen plants. Barely five minutes elapsed before my filled my basket with more peaches than I would eat in a month. For good measure I picked up a one-pound bag of roasted hatch chiles destined for the freezer.

Having a boxful of peaches in the car changed everything. Skipping the peach festival was the easiest decision I made all day. The lines of traffic extended off every street accessing the interstate. Instead I opted to roam about Palisade’s downtown. The tree-lined streets offered ample shade so my cargo of peaches did see their ripening accelerated.

Downtown was extra lively on the festival Saturday, with bicycle tours and full patios. A sprinkler misted the brick park at the center of town. Festivals usually draw out ancillary special events, and Palisades was no exception. Their library branches hosted a book sale, and I loaded up on hardcover National Geographic books about Alaska, the Pacific Northwest and the U.S.-Canadian border. I could have filled two more but thought of my shelves already bulging with books.

With most businesses touting festival tie-ins, I had a suspicion what kind the Palisade Brewing Company would pour. Their peach IPA was a hazy IPA dry-hopped with Citra hops and several hundred pounds of local peaches. Of course it was exquisite, highly drinkable and only available at the tasting room.

The hotel continental breakfast had worn off, and 357 Bar and Grill seemed the place. The plates were large and I still felt like breakfast. The bartender ran through bottle after bottle of peach-flavored vodka for mixed drinks. It was a problem unique to peach festival weekend. I knew enough to stay in my lane and avoid the peach vodka.

As I ordered the chicken-fried steak and eggs, my neighbor at the bar warned me the owners were from Texas and they served large plates, especially that chicken-fried steak. He wasn’t kidding, but I was hungry enough to leave the plate cleaned of every scrap of steak, gravy, egg, toast and hash brown. There were accompanied by a Dirty Hippie dark wheat from the Palisade Brewing. I felt more comfortable having a beer with a giant meal before driving.

In between bites, Mike from Florida’s Space Coast and I talked about Colorado heat and the respite from humidity of the Southeast. He only missed one store – Publix. We spent the next hour talking about the employee-owned grocery chain. As I excused myself to begin the journey home, Mike walked out with me, his home blocks away.

As noon passed, the festival began to spill into downtown Palisade, traffic lined up back to the interstate. The need for some elevation grew as the desert air crept in. The interstate left Grand Valley and slipped through towering desert canyons and sandstone mesas.

In just a few miles, I left the interstate again, this time at Plateau Creek’s confluence with the Colorado. for many miles of elevation the road snaked along the rushing creek, the waters seeming too healthy for desert terrain in August. In 20 miles the road would cross four ecosystems, from desert to evergreen forest. Along the way, it was worth stopping to reveal how they shifted from one to the other. In the summer, Powderhorn ski resort was a gash of bare green slope among the forested heights.

When the road topped out around Grand Mesa, it hard to pick one place to explore. But the gravel road to the Lands End Observatory was a good place to jump off. A groundhog darted across the road and vanished into some low weeds. I wasn’t sure whether to follow it all the way to the Lands End Observatory, a forest ranger post on the edge of the Grand Mesa.

I was distracted before I traveled a few miles down the observatory road. A slash of blue glittered in the forest below, and a road sign beckoned. A steep, bumpy road led to the Carson Lake Recreation Area, a water source for Grand Junction and a haven for fisherman and campers. Fields of purple wildflowers and wooded climes surround the alpine lake.

The elevation caught up with me here, as a short lakeshore hike among the wildflowers forced my lungs to work overtime. People were friendly and talkative, especially a man named Kyle who raised St. Bernards. Until his giant dog passed me, I had never one in the fur before. Amazingly, Kyle told me this dog was still growing to rival the biggest.

Grand Mesa has a high concentration of moose –who I am kidding, if you’ve read this blog before, you know how this story goes. This time I didn’t even see prints. In fairness, I crossed Grand Mesa in the early afternoon, which is hardly peak time for moose viewing.

Carson Lake, Grand Mesa National Forest

Carson Lake wildflower shores

Island Lake, Grand Mesa

The change in temperatures was welcome. At Palisade, the mercury crawled toward triple digits, and 5,000 feet higher, Grand Mesa boasted a comfortable 64 degrees in mid-August. The altitude almost called for long sleeves. The mesa top is loaded with dense forests and blue-green lakes. Thousands of campsites lie in their reaches. The area around the rustic visitor center boasts an especially high concentration of lakes and excellent views for those passing through. Still, I would have liked to spent a night so far from city lights atop the flat mountain.

The road descended quickly on this side of Grand Mesa, flattening out slightly in Cedaredge, before more drops in elevation. Suddenly I found myself back in Delta, just 40-plus miles from Grand Junction. Next time out this way, I’ll go up Grand Mesa on the path into Grand Junction or take the backroad that leads to the Black Canyon’s north rim and back to Blue Mesa Reservoir.

Although I hope the car could be contain a little of the chilled Grand Mesa air, it was gone by Montrose. From the road I could look at the broad plateau, to let its contours stay with me until I can set up camp in its placid heights.

Looking west from Monarch Pass

Gold hour at the top of the pass