(Above Photo: Telluride, Colorado from the gondola to Mountain Village)

I haven’t spent much time in Colorado, other than a business trip to Durango, and a week in the Denver area after I hit the road. This oversight is not intentional; I just always seem to be on my way somewhere else.

Sitting with the atlas, planning the trip to Southern Utah, and contemplating my exit strategy and the route back to Santa Barbara, Colorado became a good idea. It was right across the border from Moab, Utah, and I would visit another new-to-me national park: Black Canyon of the Gunnison.

Telluride is a short drive from Gunnison, and I have always wanted to see it. Other than the fact that there is a ski resort, and Tom Cruise and Oprah have homes there, I knew nothing about it. A Google search revealed a music festival occurring around the same time – The 49th Annual Telluride Bluegrass Festival.

It was already sold out.

But wait! They were still looking for volunteers. Sixteen hours – four four-hour shifts, in exchange for a festival pass.

I completed the paperwork online, and in matter of days I was selected as a camp host at Town Park, the campground closest to the festival!

But wait! Being a camp host did not include camping. (Huh?)

I gritted my teeth and said yes anyway, trusting that an opportunity would reveal itself in the intervening months. I posted on social media for acreage or a driveway in town for the van. Nothing. I joined the Telluride Bluegrass Facebook page, and while concert tickets and car parking passes were popping up for sale now and then, none were exactly what I needed – a camping pass, AND a car pass, at one of the four campgrounds in or close to town.

In my previous life I was such a Type A planner that learning to not only tolerate, but revel in, uncertainty has been quite a challenge. As the date grew closer I got more nervous, but I had the sights of Utah to preoccupy me.

Ouray, Colorado

On the day I left Moab I still had no idea where I would camp in Telluride, but I was definitely less stressed about it than I would’ve been at 52 feet long, driving Nellie and towing a car.

I crossed the border into Colorado intending to go straight to the national park, but construction on Highway 50 had other plans. They were blasting, so there were specific hours on when travel was allowed, and those hours didn’t fit into my schedule. I hung a right instead of a left at Ridgway, to Ouray.

Ouray (pronounced YOUR-Ray or Ooooh-Ray, depending on whom you ask) is a Victorian-era mining town turned tourist destination, complete with natural hot springs.

Scenes in John Wayne‘s 1969 Western “True Grit” were filmed here, including this courthouse, where Rooster Cogburn testifies in a trial at the beginning of the movie.

I had a Manhattan and a slab of prime rib in the bar Wayne frequented during filming.

A more recent claim to fame: A photo of Ouray is featured in the opening titles of the Netflix show “The Ranch,” an Ashton Kutcher vehicle that is set in a fictitious town in Colorado.

I spent the night at the Ouray KOA. I’m not a fan of KOAs, but they had a spot, and I was making it up as I went along.

That night I got to thinking about long days of volunteering at the festival and seeing shows too, and how it wouldn’t be fair to the pups to leave them alone for such long stretches, no matter where I was parked. I got online and contacted several Rover.com dog sitting candidates, all of whom were booked a full year in advance for the festival. A doggy lodge in Ridgeway was suggested, which was also full, but they put me on their waiting list.

The next morning I was awoken by the ringing telephone. It was the boarding place in Ridgeway, and they had a cancellation!  I dropped off the dogs and checked the Facebook festival message boards one last time, and Just What I Needed appeared on the screen – a camping pass for a campground seven miles from town, AND a parking pass, $130 for five nights. (It is the Festivarian Way never to scalp tickets or profit from resell.) Payment and tickets all handled electronically, I was off to Telluride.

TELLURIDE

Tuesday

I arrived in town on Tuesday afternoon. The festival was starting on Thursday, so most people hadn’t arrived yet. I picked up my volunteer credentials and wristbands at the box office and went exploring.

Telluride, population 2,426, sits in a box canyon in the San Juan mountains at an elevation of 8,750 feet. It began as a mining town in the 1870’s, and its downtown of Victorians and stately brick buildings is a National Historic District.

This is the place where Butch robbed his first bank.

The San Miguel River runs through town,

which is full of trendy shops and high-end restaurants.

One of my favorite places was the New Sheridan Hotel, opened in 1895, and the site of a presidential campaign speech by William Jennings Bryan.

Arriving at the campground that afternoon, I realized for the first time that dogs are not allowed at the festival, not even at the campsites! Despite all my research I was not aware of that, and it was fortuitous that I boarded the dogs immediately before I arrived.

I set up and started meeting people right away; everyone was friendly and laid back, and Vinny’s deck is a real magnet for socializing.

I really scored by snagging Mary E. campground. The alternative, Town Park, where I would be volunteering, is right next to the festival, which makes it quite noisy. (Although quiet hours in all the parks were a tad different than what I am used to!)

The other two campgrounds are open ballfields with no shade (tents only). They flooded during the rainstorms that are inevitable in Colorado in June.

Mary E. was dry camping but had portable toilets, free cistern (no running) water, ice for sale, and a shuttle bus that ran every half hour, but no showers. In a pinch I can shower outside, but I’m reluctant to do it because it uses so much of Vinny’s water, so high on the agenda was finding a place to freshen up.

Wednesday

Orientation for volunteers was Wednesday,

and afterward I went up to Mountain Village via gondola, to the ski resort at 9,545 feet.

I made an appointment for a pedicure and haircut for the following day at the village spa. The receptionist said, “You are welcome to use all of our facilities while you are here. Let me show you around.”

What luck! The spa was equipped with lockers, whirlpool, sauna, and of course, showers, with luxurious bath products and fluffy robes. Shower Problem: Solved!

Thursday

Thursday was my first volunteer shift.

Duties included directing traffic, counting RVs and checking window passes in the campground, selling ice and showers, handing out programs, and answering general questions. It was there I learned that volunteers were allowed in the VIP area during the last show of each night. How awesome is that?

After my haircut and pedicure and another luxurious shower in Mountain Village, I met a woman on the gondola ride back to Telluride and mentioned I hadn’t even been on the festival grounds yet, and I had heard that the lines could be long to get in. “Don’t worry. I’m with one of the vendors, and I’ll show you the back way in,” she replied. We bypassed the line, and she even gave me a discount on the merch.

Thursday night found me stageside at 10:30 for Jack Black and Tenacious D. What a rip-roaring, ridiculous and raucous good time.

I chatted with another volunteer while we waited for the show to start, who as it turned out was camping next to me at Mary E. I mentioned that I couldn’t get a Punch Brothers ticket for their sold-out show Sunday night, which was not included with our volunteer pass. The following morning, he came to my campsite and handed me the ticket, saying he had been too ambitious in his purchase of tickets for every 11:00 p.m “Nightgrass” show, and he would never have the stamina to go to all them. He refused to let me pay.

Friday

I was pulling a double, eight-hour volunteer shift on Saturday, and rain was forecast for Saturday anyway, so I decided Friday was my Big Day to See All the Shows and Do All The Things. On the bus to town I met a couple who invited me to sit with them on their friends’ tarp near the stage. (Festivarians line up for the daily 10:00 AM tarp run, a sprinting land grab set to the William Tell Overture.) 

I had planned to sit on the outskirts or at the way back, but instead I was in a great spot meeting people all day, thanks to their friend who got in line at 3 o’clock in the morning and graciously shared his tarp with a stranger.

Saturday

It did indeed rain for most of Saturday, and I spent a lot of time listening to the bands from under a pop-up canopy, waiving cars through a checkpoint. A local struck up a conversation as she shared my shelter during a brief downpour. She asked if I was enjoying my first visit, and I listed some of the serendipitous and fortuitous things that had happened to me since my arrival. She smiled, nodding knowingly, and replied, “Telluride has a way of either enveloping you in its loving arms or kicking you in the nuts. There is no in-between. I’m glad you got the positive experience. For people with an open heart and a positive frame of mind, Telluride provides.”

Sunday

Sunday was another great day of music,

and I met some more people at the Phil Lesh show,

who saved me a seat for the final show of the festival – the Punch Brothers at the Sheridan Opera House, thanks to that ticket from my fellow volunteer campground neighbor. What a way to end the festival. I got to see The Punch brothers at all three of their performances, and they played a different set at each gig. If you don’t know about them, do yourself a favor and pull them up on YouTube.

Monday

I was scheduled for one final shift for the Monday load-out from Town Park, but I didn’t make it. I woke up feeling crummy, and a home test confirmed it:

Covid.

Telluride Provides.

(I’m so over talking about fucking Covid. Bottom line: I went to the ER and got a Paxlovid prescription, and I’m fully recovered!)

Thanks for everything, Telluride, Planet Bluegrass, and fellow Festivarians!