Saskia and Richard's RVing Adventures

We have spent most of August in the lee of the Grand Mesa, in Colorado.  Our RV park was located in Cedaredge, which hails itself as the gateway to the Mesa, where the cedars thin out and the pine forest and the aspens begin.  At over 10,000 feet above sea level, the Grand Mesa is the highest plateau in the USA, a basalt outcrop that retains water in over 300 trout filled lakes. It is a fishing canoeing and kayaking haven for some, for others somewhere to run wild with ATVs in summer, snowmobiles in winter.  For Richard and I, it was a place to hike, admire the views, the wildflowers, and the wildlife, and cool off from the near 100 degree summer heat of the cities of Delta and Grand Junction located some 6000 feet in the valley below,  which we only visited when stocking up on food and other essentials (you know, things like wine, and beer, and more wine). Temperatures at The Shady Creek RV camp we were in, situated 4000 feet below the Mesa rim, were normally around the m

Now I know I am prone to exaggeration, but I truly am beginning to see a pattern. When we arrived in Texas in early 2014, Austin’s eight year drought ended and in the course of the year Texas suffered the worst floods in over a decade.  Add to that the flooding we encountered in Wichita in July … Well, I can tell you, within a day of arriving in Colorado on Sunday, 10th July, to take part in the preamble to the bi-annual Gully family reunion which was to take place two weeks later, I was beginning to feel a bit like Forest Gump – you know, accidentally being in THE place of historic significance. A fire had just flared up 20 minutes before we drove into the Bighorn RV Park in Coaldale.  High temperatures and a lack of rainfall during spring meant the wilderness area that lay to the south was a tinderbox waiting for a lightning strike. At the time we arrived, we did not know that the clouds of smoke that billowed over the mountains would become termed The Hayden Pass Fire and

Coming from Scotland, I have seen my fair share of rain.  I have even endured Arkansas rain, but I have never experienced rain such as the deluge I encountered in Wichita. The raindrops were so fat they glinted like diamonds on the Queen’s tiara as they thumped down onto the pavement.  They also obviously contained some kind of rubber, for on hitting the ground they bounced back up at least two feet.  This meant you got hit on the head on their way down and your legs were pummeled on the way back up.  They fell in such multitudes from the sky that I was drenched top down and bottom up within the two seconds it took for me to get out of the car and put up my umbrella. Eight inches (20 cm) fell within eight hours on the Saturday of our week in Wichita, which was to be an opportunity for us to catch up and stay with a former US Navy buddy of Richard’s over the July 4th celebrations. A sudden furious thunderstorm lashed Benny, our intrepid truck, and the Jet, our 38ft 5th wheel trail