Water Music

We left Moab a day earlier than planned; realistically we are not biking, hiking, rough water rafting types and if the truth be known we never were. So after checking out of our hotel which has to be one of the most chaotically run Holiday Inns anyone could ever stay at we moved south and east towards Colorado and an overnight stop in a small town called Ouray (pronounced Yu-ray I have no idea why). More of this place later. Driving south through a large sandstone walled canyon and then moving upwards we passed more stone arches until we saw a signpost to Needles Overview which we knew from our map would give us a view over part of the Canyonlands NP. So some 20 or so miles along a deserted road through what looked like every Western film film set we came to the viewpoint. Yet again another breathtaking view or series of views with the Canyonlands set out in front of us, a part of the Colorado River way across the depression and huge cliffs and buttes laid out beneath us and all around us. Words cannot describe the grandeur of the sight and it must have been just the same for the first explorers who came into the area in the mid 19th Century. The edges of the cliffs were well guarded with strong railings but nevertheless Vertigo Man kept well away from the drops when the pathway was exposed and there was no horizon apparent. We stood speechless with the wonder of nature spread out all around us and after about 30 minutes drove back to the highway and on into Colorado. The landscape changed from mountains and desert scrub and range to more open range and fields of grass as we drove through southern Colorado and close to the town of Cortez we went north following 145, one of Colorado's scenic routes. As we drove northwards the road left open farmland behind and became more mountainous as we followed the valley of the Dolores River and came to the town of Dolores where we stopped at a roadside picnic area to eat a late lunch. Like all good American campsites and picnic areas there is nearly always an isolated 'facility' for the comfort of the public so not knowing where the next comfort stop might be, I decided to avail myself of the services provided by Dolores township. As I got near to the door I heard music. From a public toilet? I opened the door and sitting there in the room was a man with violin and music stand with his violin case on top of the wash basin.
"Sorry, am I disturbing you?" I asked.
"Hi" he said "No go ahead. I'm practising some chords on this fiddle and 'cos we don't have an outhouse my wife told me to get down here to play them. I'm really a trumpet player but I'm trying to get the hang of this fiddle. Hey, have you heard of Jack Benny? He had to practise his fiddle playing outside his home you know."
I foolishly asked my urinal fiddling friend whether he had had heard the old Jack Benny line of Benny being held up and when asked for his money or his life asking if he could have time to think about it. Amazingly the violinist hadn't and he nearly fell off his chair laughing. Obviously not a lot goes on to entertain people in Dolores. I made my escape from the services when he started to tell me stories of Maynard Ferguson, went back to our lunch site and to Mrs Superpharm who wanted to know why I had been so long. She had to go to the 'Ladies' so that she too could hear the water music of Dolores. For us urination will now never be the same again with out the accompaniment of off-key violin chords.


Postscript: my new fiddling friend was quite happy to pose for a picture in his private rehearsal room. He even insisted in taking his glasses off for the shot!