. . . but the goods are odd . . . or so the saying goes here in Telluride where there are about 9 men to every 1 woman in this town. But of those 9 men, most are odd. Telluride, whose motto is "You're Civil Liberties are Protected in Telluride" attracts a specific type of individual. Not just a ski bum, but one who wishes to live exactly as he wishes, unfettered by rules, regulations, and convention whether it be from society, the state, or a relationship.
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| Morning in Telluride |
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| Views from Telluride |
Rick and I sat outside the Coffee Beanery sipping our morning joe and eating a breakfast sandwiches observing this social phenomenon. It was around 9:00 am when most people were on their way to work, but sitting on benches were three pony-tailed, scruffy, bearded, Telluride local men shooting the breeze. During the course of the hour that we sat there, 4 -5 other men came and joined the conversation, none of them in an obvious hurry to get to work, if there was work to get to. Based on their conversation these are intelligent individuals (with the gov't shutdown, politics seemed to dominate their discussion) who, by all appearances live hand-to-mouth. Granted this is a seasonal town dependent on summer and winter recreation activities (and infusion of capital from the very rich - 2500 square foot house goes for 3.5 million in Telluride proper) to keep its economy rolling so it should not be surprising to see people at loose ends during the shoulder seasons. However, what intrigues me is that it is the men who are obviously at loose ends. Only one woman stopped by to join the gang, briefly, before she went about her business.
Once finished with our breakfast we leisurely strolled about the town as the business opened. It was a clear morning so we didn't bother to do sunrise and with the temperature climbing into the 70's, and the ever-developing harsh light it was hard to get into the mood for fall colors. Nonetheless, for old time sake we decided to drive Last Dollar road, a popular route for fall colors.
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| Fall Colors Along Last Dollar Road |
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| Views of the San Juans |
With 8 miles of the road consisting of a single lane with its roadbed down to native rock and soil (more rock than soil) and the necessity to fiord a number of small streams, driving the road is not a light undertaking, but when the colors are in full force it is worth the effort. I was not expecting great colors, but was glad to drive it for what is probably our last time to just say farewell to the road. The road bid us a kind goodbye by permitting us to traverse its rocky surface without blowing out a tire . . . as has been done in the past.
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| Colorful Aspen Along Last Dollar |
Afterwards, we took the gondola up to check out the mountain city as well as the views. The mountain city, built for the skiers, was a ghost town. A little eery to be frank and Rick and I agreed that during these in-between seasons, Telluride proper is the place to be. In speaking with some of the business proprietors, we learned that even Telluride proper shuts down around mid-October and doesn't get rolling again until after Thanksgiving for the ski season.
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| The Town of Telluride from the Gondola |
After the gondola ride, we roamed the streets again, now that the businesses were open, and picked up a souvenir of planters for the back patio and then headed back to the hotel to clean up for dinner.
We first stopped at the Hotel Sheridan, a Victorian styled hotel, for drinks at the bar, and then headed down to La Marmotte, a nouveau French cuisine restaurant. Small and intimate was its setting and the service excellent and the food delicious. The menu was prixe fixed, a pretty good deal for three course. Rick and I shared the braised short ribs and the coq au vin. For starters we shared the French onion soup and the seared scallops in a tomato truffle relish. Dessert was vanilla creme brulee and chocolate pudding. It was all delicious and got us talking about the much anticipated fall and winter weather and yummy comfort dishes that we love to prepare.
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| The Tiny Kitchen of La Marmotte |
The fine dining also got us thinking about an upcoming visit from Misty and Geert. They are in town for only a couple of days and Rick and I struggled to identify the one restaurant that provided the qintessential Portland experience a great food, unique flavor combinations, small and intimate atmosphere, and just a bit funky.
Not ready to end the meal, we retired to the cozy bar and each of us savored a finger of scotch. There we learned that La Marmotte means "marmot" or the alpine critter also known as a Whistle Pig. We asked the owner why the restaurant was named after a large rodent. Marmots are actually cute and endearing creatures that seem to spend much of their time sunning themselves on rocks in the chilly alpine air, but we couldn't figure out the connection to fine dining. The owner replied that the previous proprietor selected the name because the word for marmot presents is easily recognizable regardless of the language. I guess that is good for business in that it is relatively easy to remember.
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| La Marmotte's Cozy Bar |
Reluctantly we departed "The Marmot" and made our way back to the hotel, but not before stopping at a liquor store, just across the street, to check out the wine selection . . . just for future reference. They had an impressively diverse and fine collection of wines, inlcuding some not-so-easy-to-find ones that Rick was tempted to purchase. However, we escaped without lightening our bank accounts, but not before we saw the bartender and owner of La Marmotte stop in, independently, to purchase a needed bottle of liquor.
The meal was a great end to the trip. Rick and I decided to head back early given that there just wasn't the color to warrant staying the full amount of time we had planned. I wish that we had better luck but I came to realize that he and I enjoyed our time together more when we were eating well and enjoying the bed in a comfortable hotel than when we were out camping. Granted, when the conditions come together to make for a good fall colors outing (cool temperatures, good color, good lighting conditions), NOTHING is better than that. But nowadays, that happens so infrequently, (last successful trip was in 2009) that I really shouldn't bank on that experience as a means of connecting with Rick . . . and if I'm honest with myself, it isn't. Over the years of our time in Portland we have come to connect in other ways, whether it be through our long weekends to Wild Spring in Port Orford or other nearby retreats, yard projects, wine tasting, cooking, and dining. So I guess I'm OK with selling the truck. I'll still be sorry to see it go but I don't view it as an end to the only means of Rick and my relating to each other. Rather it is more of just a transition or evolution of the methods by which we relate.
