An epic fox-hunting tour of the US, interlude: California to Colorado

Nissan Sentra doesn’t have quite the same ring to it as Ford Thunderbird, but my trusty dark grey model proved to be just the ticket for driving thousands of miles across the United States. With Bluetooth enabled, water bottles filled and packets of my new guilty pleasure, bacon jerky, installed on the passenger seat, the world, or at least America, was my oyster.

Understated elegance: my Nissan Sentra

Unfortunately not sold in the UK!

I had considered flying between my various destinations and hiring new cars each time, but it would have been just as expensive and infinitely less convenient. Not to mention far less fun. A couple of things to check before you hire a car for this kind of trip: that it comes with unlimited mileage and that you’re allowed to cross state lines. I nearly booked one before noticing that it wouldn’t let me go beyond Nevada, which would have been a slight problem. And be aware that however much insurance you think you’ve got before you get to the desk, there will always be more to weigh down your credit card.

California poppies. Because I don't have a picture of the rental-car center

An early start is always preferable and, indeed, intended when one’s destination is 1,051 miles away. But that doesn’t account for the temptation of spending a morning running greyhounds with Tejon huntsman Tyce and assorted aficionados. We rose well before dawn to reach the flat wastes of ancient heathland, salty from their time under the sea and therefore unencumbered with crops. In the drought, the sandy earth was soft and crumbly, but capable of supporting a truck. After rain, it’s impassable. Jack rabbits are everywhere, and my goodness they’re fast! Much bigger and ganglier than English hares, they can outrun all but the fastest dogs. We ran two or three greyhounds or salukis at once, and watching them swooping and swerving into the distance left me in awe at the speed and power of both species.

Hidden in plain sight: the sight hounds prepare to run 

But the open road beckoned, so I tore myself away and set off over the Tehachapi Mountains and east along the southern edge of Tejon Ranch where, given enough rain, the slopes that lead to the Mojave desert are covered in swathes of blue and yellow flowers and nodding orange Californian poppies. In early February, after a bone-dry winter, the landscape was muted greys and sandy yellows, accented by white wind turbines and Joshua tree cacti. I pressed on unencumbered by the need to use brakes or steering wheel; straight, near-empty roads is the order of the day in the West. Until, that is, I reached the gaudy sprawl of Las Vegas. The I-15, all eight lanes of it, passes hard by the Strip with its laser beams, plastic Eiffel Tower and gold, yes, all-gold, glass of the infamous Trump Tower. I reached it after dark, when this glittering homage to the wonder of electricity is marginally more attractive than in daylight, but it was with a relief that I left the lights in my rear-view mirror and passed into the utter blackness of the Nevada desert.

   

First night on the road

Americans will no doubt sigh at this English girl’s romanticism, but it was rather fun to pull up at the door of my room at the Desert Palm motel in Mesquite. There seemed to be a layer of plastic under the sheet, and I wouldn’t have touched the bath, but the wifi worked and getting to within a few miles of the Arizona border meant that my morning began with a spectacular drive. Apparently leading straight into a wall of mountains, the I-15 nips across the corner of Arizona through the Virgin River gorge before sliding down into Utah. The cliff walls changed from grey to red as I crossed into the ‘Elevated State’ and snow began to appear on the mountains.

Crossing into Arizona from Nevada

Some states don't have welcome signs; Arizona has two.

This cheery affair commemorates 100 years of statehood, 1912-2012

Er, where does the road go?

Through the pass

Entering Utah after a mere 85 minutes in Arizona

The red earth of Utah, home of Zion, Bryce, Arches, Canyonlands

and Capitol Reef national parks

First dusting of snow

The interstate here is a dual carriageway split by a shallow 

grassy depression, which makes for extremely relaxing driving. 

Brakes are generally only needed when turning off

and you never need to wait to overtake

Millennia revealed

Utah is geology writ large. The effects of millions of years of erosion and tectonic movements and flash floods and glacial flows are exposed as if a colour plate from a textbook has become three-dimensional. There are five national parks in the state – Zion, Bryce, Arches, Capital Reef and Canyonlands – all of which are worth visiting, but if you don’t have time to deviate off the interstate, as I didn’t, it almost doesn’t matter. It’s a good thing the roads are wide and empty, as every bend revealed a view worth snapping through the windscreen.

It's hard to imagine what it must have been like for the first

people to cross this landscape, without knowing where 

they might find the next source of water

Pleasingly, America realises how beautiful it is and thoughtfully provides vista points where you can pull off and take a photograph without the risk of plunging the car further into the landscape than is congenial. The San Rafael Swell has several such pull offs, and even the dullness of the sky couldn’t detract from the sheer vastness of the landscape. Within the Swell, millions of years of the Earth’s history are revealed where layers of rock have been pushed up to the surface, exposing eras from Cretaceous to Permian. As one of the well-written information boards says, ‘imagine a rainbow with a rough and ragged flat top where every ribbon of colour is revealed’.

Looking across the San Rafael Swell

Rather pleased at how my Carhartt vest ($5 from a Californian

thrift store) blended with the landscape

Defining 'panorama'

The first parking lot opened onto a plateau of smooth flat Jurassic rock that dropped away to a desert of ochres and reds and creams, the Triassic horizon broken by chimneys and jutting peaks. Half an hour later, I was looking into the Devil’s Canyon, layers of sandstone and limestone laid down under a sea that vanished 180 million years ago, towards the San Rafael Knob, 7,921ft high. The Colorado Plateau across which I was driving stretches south over 150,580 square miles to include Arizona and New Mexico as well as Utah and Colorado, and encompasses vast mesas and plateaus split by valleys, the Grand Canyon being the most spectacular. Up here, it may not quite compare to the Big Ditch that I saw first with the Grand Canyon Hounds three years ago, but it is still pretty breathtaking.

A geology textbook brought to life: layers of rock in the Devil's Canyon

Even the trees seem to have been petrified

One human intervention was just as impressive: the road that winds down through Spotted Wolf Canyon. At this point, the San Rafael Reef forms a 30-mile barrier above the Green River crossing, through which only tiny slot canyons allowed passage until 1967. Explorers and railway engineers alike would detour north towards Salt Lake City to avoid the wall, many miles out of their way. So as the interstate system grew, Spotted Wolf Canyon was chosen for the passage of the new I-70, a tiny fissure in the rock where workers could touch both walls at once. Engineers sat in harnesses 400ft in the air and 3.5 million cubic yards were excavated to create the eight miles of road. Now, a heart-stopping swoop leads down to Green River through towering walls of rock in a testament to Nature’s majesty and Man’s determination.

The spectacular Spotted Wolf Canyon, loops of road swooping 

down to the Green River plain beyond

As I approached the turn to Arches National Park, the snow blanketing the bluffs to my left grew deeper and only glimpses of further mountains were afforded through the lowering clouds. As one of the most spectacular of America’s 50 national parks, Arches had been on my wish list, but as it was an hour or more out of my way and it seemed likely that the only indication that I was looking at the Delicate Arch or Courthouse Towers would be a signboard, I decided to press on to Grand Junction, Colorado. If there was a welcome sign to the new state, I missed it in the gloom, and as I arrived at my Quality Inn, heavy sleet began to fall, so I had no regrets.

Snowy bluffs with invisible mountains

Welcome to Colorado!

Weather guaranteed to make a motel room cosy

Over the Rocky Mountains

A comfortable bed and charming staff, especially Shane, who sent my sunglasses after me when I left them in my room, made for an excellent stop, and the sun began to emerge as I began to ascend the Rockies. The heat of California felt an awfully long way away as snow edged onto the freeway and the temperature gauge on the car dropped below freezing, but as the I-70 whizzes past swish ski resorts Aspen and Vail, it is kept clear, and even at the highest point, the Eisenhower Tunnel at 11,158ft, my trusty Nissan had no trouble.

Into the mountains

Literally into the mountain

Pretty snow!

Views of Vail

Descending towards the Colorado plain, I pulled off to explore Georgetown, which, with Silver Plume a little further uphill, was known as the Silver Queen due to the white metal that financed its elegant hotels, well-appointed homes and busy streets. Despite Leadville to the south-west taking its crown as the silver capital a year after the railroad reached Georgetown in 1877, it stayed prosperous for nearly 30 years. The silver crash of 1893 spelled the beginning of the end for Silver Plume and Georgetown, but in the mid 20th century, their historical value was recognised and preserved as an Historic District.

Now, bustling Georgetown with its 200 historic buildings retains a frontier feel, yet is clearly thriving, with visitors coming to ride the Georgetown Loop of the Colorado Central Railroad to Silver Plume. A hair-raising four-mile stretch of narrow-gauge railway, it drew 19th-century tourists from around the world to see an engineering marvel that rose through three hairpin turns, four bridges and a 30 horseshoe curve. Dismantled in 1939, it was re-opened in 1984, and now runs throughout the summer. This being winter, everything was closed, but for the railway ride alone, it would be worth returning in warmer months.

Georgetown: Silver Queen

From Georgetown, the journey became smoother and warmer until I arrived at the home of Mary Ewing MFH of the Arapahoe hunt. First leg complete!

Gateway to England

Travelling by car may have been the best option for this trip, but if it's all about the journey, nothing beats the train. Classic locomotives with such evocative names as the Hibernian Express or Northern Belle still ply the railways of England, Scotland and Ireland under the prestigious aegis of Belmond. White-jacketed staff will bring you a glass of Champagne and serve three-course dinners in the dining car, and the train will stop at beguiling places such the House of Waterford Crystal or Lough Leane. If you would like to tuck into afternoon tea as picturesque countryside rolls past your window, email info@gatewaytoengland.com for more information.

Next time: following the legendary Arapahoe Hounds