In a manic effort to see as many state parks as possible this summer, I decided to hit three this past weekend.
I don’t recommend it. It’s a lot of driving. One inch on my AAA map is actually a pretty long distance.
I had a lot of time to think in the car. I kept wondering if people call Southern Colorado, “SoCo.”
A lot of people shorten the names of places in Colorado. Everyone knows that “The Springs” is short for Colorado Springs. If you’re from Grand Junction, you might refer to your hometown as “Junction.” Likewise, I’ve heard people call Fort Morgan, “Morgan.” But I’ve never heard Fort Collins referred to as “Collins.” I have heard it called “Fort Fun.” There’s also the popular “LoDo” for Lower Downtown Denver. Some people call Aurora, “Saudi Aurora,” but that’s a different topic, a comment on the number of trees or lack thereof in the sprawling suburbaplex (I just now made up that word).
If you’re expecting a travelogue about my visits to the state parks, you may be disappointed.
To tell you the truth I tried to cram too much in. I was too busy worrying about the drive to enjoy the parks adequately. Sure, they’re all real pretty and interesting in their individual ways. Basically I followed the Arkansas River from its spectacular headwaters high in the mountains (Arkansas Headwaters Recreation Area) down to the city of Pueblo (Lake Pueblo State Park) and out to the lowland plains (John Martin State Park).
Presumably, if I’d kept on going I’d have followed the river through Kansas, Oklahoma, and I suppose into the state of Arkansas, right to the Mississippi River.
In case I didn’t get it before, I’m positive now that the Arkansas is a major river. It cuts through SoCo’s near desert landscape like a wide ribbon of green. Following along on Highway 50, windows down so I could smell the sweet spring air, I had the opportunity to see some towns I’d only heard of such as Rocky Ford (home of those incredibly sweet, juicy cantaloupes) and La Junta (where some of the natives say they live in “Lunta”).
The big city on the Arkansas, however, is Pueblo.
I’ve always liked Pueblo. It has real character. From rusting factories to modest southwest-style homes, it’s kind of a cross between Youngstown, Ohio, and Tucson, Arizona. There’s no phoniness in Pueblo. No districts of fake lofts, no faux gingerbread (come on Vail, it’s cute, but maybe you’ve overdone it). Just regular people, in a normal, unpretentious town.
The point of my State Parks venture isn’t just to visit the state parks but to explore the rest of my home state. I saw a big chunk of it over the weekend.
So with something like 38 state parks left, I’ll keep going, but I’ll try to plan the driving a little better.
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