Wed 15 Apr 2009
Cece’s post on her adventure with Flat Stanley kind of stole the thunder from this post, but our drive to Cañon City was so interesting I’m going to write about it anyway.
Before we left Colorado Springs, Sandi picked up a tourist guide about Cañon City from the lobby of our hotel. As I looked through it, I noticed the guide had three suggestions for scenic drives. I also noticed that all three of the routes terminated in Florissant, which I knew from the map was not too far around Pikes Peak from Colorado Springs. So I looked through the list of interesting sites along the route and picked the middle route as the way would would take to Cañon City that afternoon without much more thought about it than that.
After we finished up at Pikes Peak, Old Colorado City and Manitou Springs, we headed out for Florissant. The drive into Florissant was beautiful; The road follows the valley visible in the panorama from the top of Pikes Peak that I posted earlier.
Once we arrived in Florissant, we turned south towards the fossil beds. While it was unfortunate that we didn’t get to see the national monument due to our late arrival, the drive through the area was still gorgeous. At one point, we noticed that from one spot, we could see three distinct types of terrain divided up into neat thirds in our view: grasslands at the bottom, a forest in the middle and Pikes Peak in the distance against a clear blue sky.
We missed the turn onto the scenic route out of the town of Cripple Creek, but we didn’t realize it at the time, so we ended up driving out of town up towards an old gold mine. At the top of the hill, we realized our mistake, but stopped for a few minutes anyway to get some pictures of the area.
By the time we got back down into Cripple Creek, we were starting to understand why we had missed the turn. Sandi had gotten the GPS out by then and punched in a route for Cañon CIty. The GPS asked her if it was OK to route us on unpaved roads. We cautiously said yes, then began following the road out of town towards a mining area. We briefly entered an unpaved road as we got onto the main route, and thought maybe that was it — until the GPS told us to take a turn off that road onto another dirt road that quickly descended into the valley.
The route we had chosen is called Teller County Road 88, or Shelf Road. It gets this name because a fair amount of the road hangs on a narrow shelf on the side of a steep hill with a valley that varies from a few feet below to a few hundred feet below.
As we turned onto the road, Sandi noticed a sign that said “4 Wheel Drive or High Clearance Vehicle Recommended” and she pointed out that the map I had glossed over that morning said much the same thing. Since I am always up for an adventure, though, and because I was driving, I stepped on the gas and we were off on our trip down Shelf Road in our, umm… rental Toyota Camry…
Shelf Road apparently began life as a stage coach route, and therefore has some historical significance. Today people drive to see its natural beauty or to reach one of several impressive rock faces for climbing.
At first the drive wasn’t that bad. We were down in the bottom of the valley, following along Cripple Creek and the road was fairly wide. After a while we began noticing that the valley floor was further and further below us. At one point, we came around a corner to find deer grazing on an outcropping.
Shortly afterwards, we were back at the bottom of the valley again. Not so bad, but Sandi and the girls were on high alert by then. Carissa kept alternating between carefully watching everything that was going on and burying her head in a book so that she didn’t have to watch anything going on.
We crossed over the creek bed on something that was almost a bridge. About this time Sandi noticed an even narrower, less stable road that split off from the main road and shot up a nearby hill. At the top of the hill was a house under construction, miles from anywhere. Sandi was quite impressed by the idea that people would live in this area deliberately.
Then we passed by Window Rock and suddenly we were out in the open in a field.
And that’s when things started to get interesting. The road that ran through the field, our GPS decided, was not actually a road. The road we should have been on was about 300 feet east and about 50 feet up.
It’s true that there did seem to be a road there, but it was on gated private property marked as a mining zone. So we pushed ahead and came to this:
There is at least one too many warning signs here for comfort (especially the small white one). Fortunately, it turns out that the primary concern was that the creek could have flooded out the bridge, and there was no sign of that. At the time, though, it had been more than 30 minutes since we had seen anyone else on the road and we were really beginning to feel like we were lost in the wilderness. As best we could tell, we were about halfway through the route, so turning back would be as painful as moving on.
So we decided to press onward. We started a steep ascent up the side of the valley wall on a tiny sliver of a road that seemed to get narrower and more precarious in proportion to its height above the floor. We were clearly on a one-lane road now, and often that description seemed generous. At some points, the road seemed more like three-quarters or even five-eighths of a lane. This was especially disconcerting to Carissa and I, who were on the driver’s side of the car hanging off the edge over Oblivion (which I think is the name of the cattle ranch for sale that we could see at the bottom).
As we came up the side though, the view improved, and we could look out into the distance to check to see if anyone was coming the other way on the road, which made us feel at least a little better because we could plan ahead. At one point, we saw a truck coming our way and stopped at one of the few wide spots in the road to allow it to pass.
While waiting, I took this picture:

This is why it was worth the trip.
Then, one or two turns through the canyon later, we were suddenly back on a paved road, on flat land, driving in a straight line. Despite the white knuckles, the nail-biting and the worried squeaks from the back seat, we’d made it through and were on our way to the hotel for the night.
It had been a long two hours.
The next day, I tried to talk Sandi into taking a scenic tour out of the Royal Gorge area that would have taken us up to I-70 through Leadville (early home of Molly Brown), but she summarily vetoed even the thought… I think I had used up all of my adventuring good will for this trip.
























