The Black
I have Lists and Rules. The lists include a list of rules. One of the rules is to consult the lists. None of this helps.
I missed my binoculars, my radio, and my gloves on the two chilly mornings at the edge of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. These were on the list that I didn’t bother to look at before I left.
This National Park is near Montrose, Colorado. I took a counter-clockwise loop from Durango, up US 550 north through Silverton, Ouray, Ridgeway, to Montrose and the canyon. Then back to Ridgeway and around past Telluride, Stoner, Dolores, and Mancos. The fall colors were glorious and the traffic wasn’t bad. The US 550 portion of the route is scarier owing to the radical drop-offs around Red Mountain Pass.
Fire swept across the Black Canyon and mesas in 2025 and all of the charred black Gambel oaks are regrowing bright green at their base.
The unburned portion of the campground was full and sites are cozy-close and reserved well in advance. Friendliness and camaraderie oozes from campers I’ve met this year. Enjoying a great sunset with a stranger can make me feel a little better about humanity – banks the hot coals of my general misanthropy. Also, it’s strange not to say hello to someone you may hear snoring later.
The multiple overlooks along the south rim provide overwhelming views. It’s probably very healthy for humans to be staggered by natural beauty once in awhile. To stare, slack-jawed, at this deep dark canyon and the tiny river of green at its bottom is to be awed. This is the definition of awesome. There were a lot people, but I noticed many fell silent when they approached the edge. Some places can enchant you simply by looking at them.
The canyon is a staggering 2700 feet deep. The walls are crazy. There’s no better description without getting into the geology.
There’s a very steep road to the bottom. “Portal” is the starting point of the historic tunnel system that still moves water from the Gunnison to the Uncompahgre. It was one of the oldest and first Bureau of Reclamation projects, begun in 1907.
The water is mysteriously deep, fast, and green here before it’s sucked into the six mile long tunnel to hundreds of drains, ditches and canals for farms, homes, mines(?) in the Uncompahgre valley.
When I told Jerry that I was coming here, he told me he recalled that the view made him a little frightened, even as an adult. I get that now.
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