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Rumors that I pick my daily stops for their pun potential are completely unfounded. Maybe.

But let’s first go back to Alamosa, where a weather report indicated that the overnight temperature would be dropping well below 0°F, which the temperature should never do. Ever. There are warmer places on freaking Mars right now.

But this was my dashboard as I was about to drive out of town:

NOPE

Nope.

Yeah, I just have one thing to say to that:

Yeah, that’s a great big tub full of NOPE.

Once I got out of that accursed valley, though, temperatures rose to a balmy mid-20s.

I passed through Pagosa Springs, Colorado, too early to do anything but take pictures of this too-hipster-for-words brewpub:

I'm sure you liked this one before it was cool.

It’s too small to see here, but Kermit the Frog is desperately trying to escape from the upper window.

I did, however, manage to make it to this one in Cortez, Colorado by lunchtime (at which point, by the way, the temperature had climbed up into the mid-50s):

Oh look, a brewery in Colorado! How rare! Not.

Never did find out what those orange cones were for.

I hung around this also unbelievably hipster town (I’m sensing a theme here for Colorado) for an hour or so, because at that point I really needed to a) stretch my legs and b) apologize to the glowing yellow thing in the sky for calling it “the accursed daystar” and thank it for making the temperature a little bit less NOPE.

The rest of the trip today took me through Ute and Navajo country once more; you may recall I went through it last year. In fact, this route took me right past the Four Corners monument, though I didn’t feel the need to stop there again.

On the road to Page, I encountered some more awesome scenery.

Clearly, I wasn't the sole visitor.

I hereby name this place the Valley of Lost Soles.

Upon reaching Page, which is a small town just south of the Arizona-Utah border, I looked for a place that would sell me some Navajo frybread, which is as good a reason as any to be alive and have taste buds. But there wasn’t any. Instead, I found something far, far more dangerous – a sushi bar within walking distance. Okay, well, the sushi part wasn’t so dangerous, but it was also a bar bar. And they had sake. And absinthe.

I don’t remember much after that, but apparently I made it back to the hotel, and the reason this post is later than usual is I had to wait until I only had one screen to look at.

I’m pretty close to Vegas, now, less than a day away. Unfortunately, my reservation there doesn’t start until Sunday afternoon. I still haven’t decided whether to find another place in Vegas for one night, or maybe stay somewhere else. You’ll find out tomorrow. Later today, I mean.

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Remember the Alamosa!

A couple of days ago, my friend Elizabeth commented thus:

Probably, the best thing about crossing Kansas will be that, when you are done, you can say…. wait for it…. “I’m not in Kansas anymore.” Sorry if I stole that one from you but, hey, you’re better than that, right?

No, Elizabeth. No. I am NOT better than that. I was totally going to use that and now I can’t. Nor can I think of anything involving Toto, scarecrows, tin men, or yellow brick roads.

Still, this morning, I got the hell out of Dodge.

After a bit of the flat flatness that I was expecting out of Kansas and eastern Colorado, I started getting treated to views like this one:

The Rocky Road?

Plains, plains, plains, plains, MOUNTAINS.

Ended up in a town in Colorado called Alamosa.

I’d never even heard of Alamosa, so I had no real idea what to expect. Imagine, then, my joy when I discovered this, in downtown Alamosa:

Not that brewpubs are uncommon in Colorado

And the heavens opened and seven angels sang…

They know how to make beer in Colorado. I hear even Coors used to be good before it went national. Had lunch there, sampled a few of the brews, and found them pleasing.

Anyway, it turns out Alamosa’s a small college town along the Rio Grande (yes, the Rio Grande stretches up into Colorado), and it sits in a valley that’s about 7500 feet above sea level.

Water boils at about 198F at 7500 feet. I guess that doesn’t stop them from making beer.

No worries about water boiling tonight, though – the forecast calls for -10F overnight. So no, I won’t be leaving the heated hotel room. Not even for beer.