Third Leg: Florence to Westcliffe.
Our arrival in Florence meant another pit stop. (Some of the older members of our entourage had relatively weak bladders, it seems.) Florence is an old farm town, rejuvenated somewhat in the 80's by the arrival of the prison industry. Between Canon City and Florence, there are something like five prisons (state and federal penitentiaries.) Timothy McVeigh, the convicted Oklahoma City Bomber, was housed at one of them for a while, while his trial in Federal Court was being conducted in Denver.
The most interesting thing about Florence is the contrast it gives you. Driving down the main street of this farm town, you had a tattoo and body-piercing parlor sitting next to an antique/collectibles store. The "Green Lizard Lounge," a place that looked pretty seedy, judging by the lack of windows in the place, sat next to a coffee shop. Florence: a nice place to visit, but I'm not sure I would want to live there.
Getting back in our vehicles after a timely stretch of the legs, we headed back on the path we came into town on, in order to take the Highway 67 cutoff. Now, some fun could be had. Our route took us through the San Isabel National Forest, and into the Hardscrabble Pass through the Wet Mountains.
I don't know why they're called the "Wet" Mountains, things looked pretty dry to me. But Hardscrabble Pass is a place you have to see to believe. Before entering the pass, we lined up and allowed a gap between each car of about a minute. This is where we were going to put up a bit of speed, and those gaps were important.
Hardscrabble appears to have gotten its name by the short radius left and right curves one has through narrow gaps of rock outcroppings. It appears when you drive it at speed, your words get a little jumbled the same way the bag of tiles in Scrabble do. My turn for launch finally arrived, and I rifled through the gears rapidly. At one point, I found my speed at better than 110, and the Corvette in front of me was nowhere to be seen. A curve to the left here, followed by a quick curve to the right, and the whole time, the canyon appeared to almost be closing in on you- doing its best to trap you. What I remember experiencing was a rapidly beating heart, mouth beginning to dry as I attempted to lick my lips, perspiration forming on my palms as I gripped the steering wheel, and riveted attention on what this rocky canyon was going to throw at me next: speed and concentration under these conditions can be stressful! Not to worry, there is only one place this road leads, and I knew I'd catch everyone on the far side.
We did have one interesting encounter on this road. While getting lined up, a sand colored mini-van angrily blew by our line of Corvettes. We, in turn, each blew by the octogenarian driving it at high rates of speed. I guess the old lady driving the car thought she was being attacked, as Corvette after Corvette blew by her at speeds in the 90's. One of our entourage mentioned that as he passed her, he noticed her in panic mode, frantically calling someone on her cell phone. Who was she calling? Apparently Johnny Law. You see, as we came out the far side and arrived in Westcliffe, with our accelerated heart rates still experiencing an adrenaline upsurge from the speeds and curves we had just navigated, we came across a sudden, unexpected slow down.
Breaks got hit hard, gears got downshifted, and exhausts roared their disapproval of this trip in their stride. We nonchalantly strolled into Westcliffe at a paltry 35 MPH, and as we entered town, we all noticed it: a white Dodge Durango with green stripes painted on the side accompanying the words "Custer County Sheriff." (Only in Colorado will you have a "Custer County.") We again stopped at local convenience store/gas station to allow the end of line to make it through Hardscrabble Pass and join us. As we did, the Sheriff's deputy in the Durango approached the last car in the line and told us to keep the speeds down: they had gotten a panicked phone call from someone further up the road about a line of crazy Corvette drivers flying around like the world was coming to an end.
Yes, officer. Of course, officer. We meant no offense, officer. He let the lot of us off with a warning. To add insult to injury, we all politely waived at the lady in the mini-van as she puttered by. (My guess is she's the local County Clerk and Recorder, and will be letting the Sheriff know how upset she is that we beat that rap.)
Fourth Leg: Westcliffe to Canon City.
By now, it was coming up on 1:00 PM, and some of us were getting hungry. The "Dine" part of the "Drive and Dine" happened at the end, and a few of us were eager to get there. So we saddled up and hit Highway 69, which took us the rest of the way to complete the loop back to Highway 50 on the west side of Canon City.
Ah, but 69 was a peaceful, rollicking jaunt. It paralleled the Sangre De Christos- the mountain range that marks the boundary between Custer County and Sagauche County. Its another reminder of what makes Colorado such a scenic state- poetry has been written about such amazing vistas. After the tense ride through Hardscrabble Pass, no one was particularly inclined to really push things on this stretch of road- we all settled into a nice clip, and allowed the road to roll itself out in front of us, beckoning us onward through its dramatic landscape. (How's that for poetic? Granted, it's not "purple mountains majesty," but it does give the road a nice character.)
Sadly, all good things must end, and as we hit Hillside, the road moved in a more directly northern route up to Texas Creek. This is where we rejoined Highway 50 at another distinctly scenic point- west of Canon City, the road runs parallel to the Arkansas River. Sadly, the distinct lack of snowfall over the last few years has left the Arkansas quite low. That didn't stop a few white water rafters from going out there. It's just a shame they didn't have more challenging rapids to navigate. I tried to get some pictures of the white water rafters as we passed them, but every time I spotted some, and then reached for my camera, I had come upon them too quickly and the view was eclipsed by the road, itself. And my fellow caravaners were not to stop for something as mundane to Coloradoans as pictures of white water rafters.
We did pull off the road for a bit, while our fearless leader attempted to see if he could pull some strings and get us a pass to cross the Royal Gorge Bridge. He actually had to climb back into his car and head up to a road stop to us the phone- in the narrow Arkansas River valley, there was no cell phone service to be had. I snapped a picture of the line of us pulled over on the side of Highway 50 just as he flew by making his way to a phone- that's a picture I couldn't duplicate again if I tried.
Sadly, no free pass over the Royal Gorge was to be had. We could cross the old wood plank bridge, but only if we wanted to pay $7 per person. That's not per car, that's per person to cross the bridge. $14 for Vettes with two passengers! We decided we'd see the bridge another day when we could arrange a better group deal. So we pressed on, and our fearless leader had another trick up his sleeve: Skyline Drive.
This is a specifically scenic route that comes with a warning: no vehicles over 20-feet in length are permitted on this road, by order of the Canon City PD. And with good reason! The road is a one-lane path that follows the crest of a series of continuous mesas. In some places, the road has absolutely no shoulder- you go off the road, and fall a long, long way. In other places, it widens out a little. The official posted speed limit on this road is 15 MPH. The Canon City PD claims the road is self-enforcing. The only people who challenge that speed limit generally end up regretting it (that's if they survive the fall.)
Now, this was some white knuckle driving at low speeds!
The road leads you out to a local street in a residential neighborhood, and all of the sudden, you're in Canon City. That means one thing- it's barbecue time! Food!
A line of hungry Corvette folks navigated the streets of Canon City to find "Big Burger World," a local mom-and-pop outdoor restaurant that features deep pit barbecue on Saturdays. What a treat! Devouring our meals, we compared notes about the trip, the brush with the long arm of Custer County's law, and the beautiful weather we had.
Handshakes and goodbyes followed, as one by one, our entourage split up and went their separate ways back home. Our Vettes may be more bug-splattered for the trip, but the comradeship and stories of the trip more than made up for it. A very enjoyable day!
