Back roads

The dilemma while on a road trip: Do you take the back roads and see something new, or do you jump on the freeway and get there fast?

The way of all flesh is to take the interstate. The freeway is safe. You know you can find gas. You know you can find food. You know you can find over-priced (but delicious) coffee. Rest stops are frequent.

But the back roads are where adventure happens. Local cafes. Stunning scenery. Friendly people. Coffee so horrible it is an adventure in itself. Odd road signs.

My favorite sign this trip was a big one outside a city park in a small South Dakota town: "Please do not leave animal remains in park."

Goodness. What caused the abandonment of animal remains to become a high-priority civic issue? Was there some sort of cult in town holding sacrifices? I almost stopped to ask.

Yes, the back roads are where you find adventure. If you can survive the coffee, back roads are where life is lived.

Favorite back road alternatives: Highway 200 across North Dakota is more interesting than either Interstate 94 or US Highway 2. The highlight? Seeing a big crane in an open pit coalmine out by Beulah.

This trip, Highway 83 north of Rapid City beckoned. If you take I-90 across South Dakota, you see nothing but Wall Drug signs. And then, Wall Drug. So, it was time for Highway 83.

What an utterly desolate and beautiful stretch of road. There was simply nothing for miles on end but buttes and cows. "Next services 81 miles" was my favorite sign. There were no billboards, no wires, nothing but round bales.

One of the great back roads in the world runs north of the Grand Canyon through Monument Valley. Although the big rock formations found there grace the cover of most road atlases, the road to get there is a back road of back roads.

There are no rest areas, so you have to improvise. There is one restaurant in 110 miles. You take what you get off the menu. But the scenery is some of the best in the world.

Some people take back roads to meet people in cafes. I do not. When I am on vacation, part of that vacation is taking a vacation from people.

But this trip while on a back road near Estes Park, Colorado, traffic stopped still. After ten minutes of standstill, people started getting out of their cars to discuss the situation.

Apparently, a big rock had fallen down a cliff and was blocking the road 1/2 mile ahead. The gentleman two cars up was not optimistic.

"They'll shut this thing down all day for nothing," he grumbled.

I asked him about possible alternative routes. He drew a map of one for me. I couldn't understand the map, so he said, "Forget it, follow me."

We pulled a U-turn and took an obscure road that weaved and bobbed. Eventually, we entered a beautiful canyon with a rugged white water river and quaint cabins.

The road was steep and crooked, too arduous for anybody in a hurry. The good Samaritan disappeared ahead once he knew I was on track.

Thank goodness for the rock that fell on the first back road. It forced me onto a beautiful road I would never otherwise have traveled.

I didn't care if I got where I was going. I was to busy negotiating hairpin curves, looking up at the distant top of the canyon, admiring the rustic cabins clinging to the cliffs and hugging the road.

But like all scenic mountain roads, driving it was work. When the back road intersected the better highway, I was relieved. When, only a few miles later, a blue freeway sign appeared, I was content to jump on the wide road and be bored for a while.

As I get older, I am sure I will take more back roads. The older you get, the more you realize that the journey is as important as the destination -- and much more interesting. After all, what's the big hurry?

For now, though, I'll alternate between the broad path offered by the freeway and the roads less traveled.

After all, one can only stand so much bad coffee.