| The beauty of this part of the Rockies is breathtaking. I had never been to Colorado, and I was awestruck by the scenery during my 40-minute drive along winding roads between Telluride and Rico. The view was more and more spectacular at every turn. I live in the congestion of the Washington, D.C., area; this serene setting truly calmed my soul.
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Getting to Rico and back was an unbelievable travel ordeal. You would have thought I was going to the other side of the Earth instead of the other side of the Rockies. It was July, so there were a lot of travelers. And the airline was having labor problems. My flight out was scheduled to leave in the middle of the day, but it got postponed over and over until the airline cancelled it at 4 p.m. Then I had to endure an hour-long ride by taxi from one airport to another during rush hour. I managed to get to Denver, but ended up being put in a hotel for three or four hours of sleep before flying to Telluride the next morning. I finally got to Rico about 19 hours later than I intended.
The return trip was just as bad. The East Coast was having weather trouble, so I ended up in an airport motel in Atlanta.
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When I checked into the Rico Hotel, originally built to house silver miners in the 1920s, the manager informed me that he had left my room key at his house. I was wondering what I was supposed to do when he said, “Oh, just put your stuff in there, and leave the door unlocked. That’s just Rico.”
I heard that phrase several times during my weeklong visit. It was rather endearing. I was in a first-floor room with no screens, and I kept the windows open at night for fresh air. I would never have stayed in that situation on the East Coast. But people in Rico aren’t concerned about anything happening. I was surprised to find that such a place still exists in this country.
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