Monsoon on the Conejos (1)

We brought a screen for drying mushrooms.

The campground host's name tag said "Noah." That should have been a hint.*



M. and I set out Thursday for a camping trip to the Conejos River. I had looked at the stream flow online, and it was up from July's average, but I still had this picture in my mind from other late-summer trips: clear waters, a slight crispness in the air.



Just getting there had its moments. When we stopped in Antonito to get some snacks from the trailer, people driving by kept looking at us. Sure, Antonito seems a little insular, but why the stares?



Maybe it was because the Jeep and the pop-up trailer were liberally coated with mud.



Conditions on the Secret Cut-off Road had been worse than I had expected. Seeing the trailer in the rear-view mirror going sideways is unsettling. All I could think was, "This would be worse if I were going downhill."



We kept going and later in the afternoon reached the Forest Service campground that was our destination. About 5:30 p.m. it started raining. That would be the pattern: two-hour downpours each afternoon or evening.



But with a hot meal, wine, a good book, and a Coleman lantern, all was good.



Friday morning I got up (mist-filtered sun), put on hip boots, and walked to one of my favorite fishing spots. The river looked like chocolate milk. A tributary stream was re-enacting the June run-off.



Walking back to the campground, I picked a few mushrooms. That would be the theme.



(to be continued)



* No, there was no name tag. I am joking.