Jacob caught an incredible sunset on the road leaving Ouray:

Below the line, @Davesakiller has provided us a tip that requires a bit of explication:

If you are heading east on 160 for your way back be sure to stop by the sand dunes. They make no sense whatsoever.

What is @Davesakiller talking about? What are these sand dunes? Are they too far away for Marcel to make? Why don't they make any sense?

1. Great Sand Dunes National Park.

2. The NPS animated it, so we'll let them answer.

3. Yes, it is now on the list of Amazing things We Don't Have Time to See.

4. Sand-sledding and -singing, krummholz, etc. (We're inferring.)

This park looks spectacular. It has marmots, badgers and tiger salamanders. It has tundra, krummholz, lakes and wetlands. There are webcams. You can sandboard.

The sand sings.

It makes no sense.

A particularly rocky mountain outside Ouray.

Something of a theme here … tell us a tune and we'll throw it on a list with a call out to your name!

As I steep in the 100 degree water, I can feel all my remaining energy slipping away. How much further is it to Denver? Oh, Lordy. Sleep, sleep...

The right thing to do now would be to sit in an armchair in a cosy Ouray hotel and read Wallace Stegner until bedtime while glancing up occasionally at the mountains. But it's back in the car, and off we go again...

There was a certain small film made a few years ago about a writer struggling in a hotel somewhere in Colorado … based on a Stephen King book, directed by some guy named Kubrick.

The Shining was filmed at the Stanley Hotel in northern Colorado, much too far away for readers to Marcel, Jacob and Andy stay overnight there, assuredly making them very happy. 

So beloved and feared, a 'subjective' documentary was recently made solely to talk about what is going on in Kubrick's Colorado classic. Like any classic, of course, it's also been parodied brilliantly:

The million dollar highway is lined by a number of ghost towns, most abandoned after mining booms died down and harsh winters forced drove the rest away. The towns abound throughout the state, and the most exciting- and/or haunted-looking ones can only be reached by 4x4 vehicles; quite a few, however, are accessible by passenger car. 

Ouray's city site provides a handy guide to those along Rt 550, and National Geographic did a whole road trip dedicated to Colorado's ghost towns. This remarkably thorough (if chaotic) site on ghost towns, meanwhile, has collected submissions for the entire state. 

Animas Forks is one of many near Silverton and Ouray on the Alpine Loop. The mining town boomed in the 1880s and busted by 1910 and its 'downtown' of tilting shacks, cabins and spooky halls look spooky mostly for their juxtaposition against the stunning mountains around them.

St Elmo, meanwhile, is generally regarded as one of the best preserved ghost towns in the country. The catalogue calls it a ghost town "in miniature" and "an antique doll house". The once thriving gold town had hotels, saloons, dancing halls and a newspaper office in its heyday, much of which is still preserved. A few people still live in the town, though even the postal service stopped coming round in 1952. 

If you look at the word corniche in a dictionary there is a picture of this road. In places the speed limit is 15 miles an hour

The road's winding down the mountainside, past the old mine workings. There are deer grazing right beside the highway. The mountain peaks are bare red and yellow rock. "Like a chemical spill," says Andy.

More switchback roads with no guard rail and alpine vistas.

I've searched high and low but none of the Silverton bookshops stock The Female Eunuch. Fudge, yes, cowboy hats, yes, but not a single copy of Greer's seminal text. We bought harmonicas instead and are now back on the road to Ouray.

Remember that curious sculpture back at Mesa Verde? It's of a Native American bouldering down an overhang with a big bag of wood on his back.

Archaeologists have found hand and toe holds in the rock above the dwellings.

But our in-car consensus – thoroughly bantered and interrogated on this drive past slippery cliffs and mountains – is that there's no way pregnant women, children and elderly people went rock-climbing every day. The Maclure Hypothesis is that ladders were fixed into the holes.

I should say there is absolutely no evidence for this, but then again when I quizzed one of the guides in the park I had the feeling she was also just making stuff up. "They had very naturalist beliefs, you know, like Mother Earth, Father Sky."

I say they had ladders. Other theories?

We'll get back to our other challenges, now …

This bit is even better. It used to be the red light district. There were 32 saloons on the three block stretch. Wyatt Earp played cards here! And no wonder it looks familiar – it was used as the set for Westerns in the 1950s.

This may be the prettiest town we've seen. It's a pocket sized old mining town laid out on a grid with a main street of colourful 19th century storefronts. Mountains rise straight up on either side.

I think only Main Street is tarmacked, the rest is gravel. Walking around I seem to hear the sound of spurs jingling. I'm looking for a saloon with swing doors.

The town is spread out in the valley beneath us like an architectural model. We can see the train tracks from Durango. How on earth did they bring it through the mountains?

We can't resist a diversion to this beautiful lake just beside the highway. The water's a great temperature.

We swim out over the weeds and the lake bottom drops out of sight. Floating on my back I can see the peaks ringing us.

People are fishing nearby, and successfully.

Andy emerges from the lake …

Okay, back in the car.

For those of you who love trains – *cough* Andy Maclure *cough* – and for those who love breathtaking mountain landscapes: a video of the Durango-Silverton train in action, cutting some very sharp turns along a very narrow looking ledge.

We've stopped 10,000 feet above sea level. All of us are a bit giddy from the thin air. Jeff wasn't exaggerating about the scenery – huge mountains around us.

Below the line bettycracker has thrown the gauntlet:

I'm now expecting to see pics of the team relaxing in Ouray hot springs, reading Germaine Greer whilst simultaneously texting their wives. 

Meanwhile in the car, Marcel says: Intense in-car discussion going on about the works of Betty Friedan, Germaine Greer and Andrea Dworkin.

Marcel, Jacob and Andy are headed to Ouray, dubbed the Switzerland of America.

But the Orson of America doesn't think much of Switzerland.

Silver birches, horses, pine trees: we're in the mountains.

(Editor's addendum: A bit of YouTube-sourced scenery to tide us over until Jacob returns to Wi-Fi range.)

Beautiful scenery all around us. It's the same red as Utah but covered with trees. Andy says the landscape is Utah's hirsute cousin. He's a poet, that man.

Climbing 4,069 feet to our first pass and our ears are popping...

The sun is back out. The sky is a beautiful shade of blue. And we are heading towards "frickin amazing" Highway 550, also known as the Million Dollar Highway.

We're ready to leave Durango. I'd like to get to Ouray in time to jump in the hot springs.

I'll be doing my best to keep you posted from the road. The next big town is Silverton.

My wife says I've been blogging too much about food. I think that's to do with the Wi-Fi coverage, which tends to be great in restaurants. When we are out of Wi-Fi range we often talk about things like feminism, and what great wives we have, but it's just not reflected in the blog.

By the way Jacob forgot to call his wife last night. That's because he was so tired he fell asleep as soon as he got in the hotel. Sorry, Stacey.

It's raining. Big fat bullets of it. We're ducking into Nini's taqueria for blue corn tacos. 

You don't see much naturally blue food. Why is that?

(Editor's note: George Carlin wondered the same thing.)

We've got eight or nine hours driving before Denver. So sadly Telluride is off. And given what Jeff just us about the roads, I think the microbrewery would be a bad idea.

Jeff's enthusiastic about our route from here. "There are 14 thousand foot peaks. It's gonna get frickin amazing! And that's an understatement."

Andy's arrived here. His eyes light up at the sight of the old locos. "What a fantastic place!"

The Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad Train is quite a cool museum. It's got a couple of full-size locomotives. Before the Second World War, everything came by rail to Durango.

Jeff Elllingson is the curator of the museum. He tells me that as recently as the 1960s the roads in any direction from here were terrible.

"Even today the roads here are poor by US standards. You'll have to pay attention. Don't go too close to the edge!"

I get the feeling he's seen me drive.

Rolling in to Durango, where bikes are allowed (unlike Black Hawk, to the north).

From the coffee of Cortez to the green tables of Mesa Verde and hitting the road again.

Just descending on 60 through pine forests down in to Durango. Mountains in every direction. Should be there in five minutes.

We've been getting a lot of suggestions for Telluride, though it might be too much of a detour for Marcel to make. That hasn't stopped the high praise, however. @Circle_West says it's "Heaven on earth". @bix783 gives us a contrarian moniker and the literary lowdown:

(Editor's note: We are – Bleeding Edge is almost here!)

And @hartlroberts lets a picture do his talking:

As explained by Marcel:

If Marcel is to stick to Theroux's First Iron Law of Happiness, which states that lunch must always happen at 1pm, he's going to have drag the crew off the mesa, and drill the car to Durango pronto Tonto.

Yesterday @ukboy challenged the team to hit all four of Durango's microbreweries in one night. FAIL. And I suspect that won't be happening today - driving, heat and full bladders don't mix. But they might just make one for a pint and a bite. Here's a reminder of the microbrewery menu:r

Steamworks Brewing Company: Between the drinks menu (Lizard Head Red, Tax Alement, One Wit Wünder) and the food menu (chimicurri steak tacos with a side of calabacitas), Steamworks looks like a sure bet for quality "gastropub" fare.

Carver Brewing & Co: For a more casual taste of American beer, you can hit Carver for growlers and kegs. Their site quotes Ben Franklin (a sure sign of good character): "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."

Durango Brewery: This brewery's motto is apparently "Real Town! Real Beer!", and the company traces its heritage back to 1886, when it was also an ice cream company, which also sounds delicious.

Ska Brewing Company: Complete with comic book mythology relating the story of "two guys named Dave and Bill [who] learned that while they loved gulping down good beer, they weren't old enough to buy it." Inspired by "thinking music, also known as Ska," they decided to brew their own beer. And so the Legion of Ska was born.

We posed the question on @GuardianTravel #TwiTrips as to where Marcel, Andy and Jacob should head after Mesa Verde, and this invite immediately popped up from @Telluride.com, which looks stunning (even out of ski season) and is around 75 miles from Cortez...It just goes to show how warm, friendly and generous everyone is being on this road trip.

It's a shame that we don't have time to go on one of the tours, but we're going to do a quick loop to get a sense of the scale here.

Many competing theories about why the inhabitants left. 

Andy's is this: "They got driven out by the effing tourists."

The Cliff Palace Loop Road takes you past Cliff Palace, Balcony House, and overlooks other cliff dwellings - but you can only get into these with a park ranger. So it's going to be a driveby/walkby experience for Marcel and co.

The dwellings are engineering wonders - made out of sandstone, mortar and wooden beams. (Thanks for the info NPS.)

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Armed with a gallon jug of water, we're walking to Spruce Tree House.

Just passed a sign saying we're at 7,000 feet! 

We're driving along the top of Chapin Mesa.

We're following reader @braciole's advice, heading towards the Cliff Palace Loop, but I also want to visit Spruce Tree House on the way.

braciole

25 July 2013 4:32pm

Even if you can't get tickets, a drive around the Cliff Palace Loop/Mesa Top Ruins Road is worth it as you can look down on some of the ruins and also you should be able to get some Frybread. Just at the southern tip of the park, the road juts into the neighbouring Ute Mountain Ute Indian Reservation and there you should find a stall/stand selling it. It isn't very healthy but it was good.

Here's what we've managed to find out about Spruce Tree House - filched from the National Parks Services website:

Spruce Tree House is the third largest cliff dwelling in Mesa Verde and was built between 1211 and 1278 by the ancestors of the Puebloan peoples of the South West (Taos, Acuna, Hopi, Zuni). It was first discovered in 1888 by two local ranchers out searching for stray cattle. The dwelling has about 130 rooms and 8 kivas (ceremonial chambers), built into a natural alcove in the cliffs. It is thought to have been home for about 60 to 80 people.

We're climbing a switchback road up the side of the mesa, on our way to Spruce Tree House, one of the ancient dwellings.

Okay. The morning tours are fully booked. They look AMAZING. You get to climb up ladders into these ancient dwellings. We've armed ourselves with guidebooks and are setting off on a DIY tour of the bits we're allowed to visit on our own.

I'm in the line to buy tickets. Looks like there aren't many morning tours left! How long can we afford to wait around?

We celebrate the reunion of Andy and his wallet over breakfast at the Silver Bean on Main Street in Cortez. This is an eyecatching little diner housed in an old Airstream caravan. It's run by Pamela Lutz and Hayley Randall. Pamela's had the business for 14 years and one end of the caravan serves as a drive-thru window.

We're perched on seats outside eating the breakfast burritos and drinking iced coffee. Big thumbs up from the team. Thanks to @Button_CO for the tip!

One blip yesterday was that Andy lost his wallet and was facing a classic travel nightmare. We spent last night trying to figure out where it might have gone (Moab? Dove Creek? Hanksville?) and today he was going to have to cancel all his credit cards on a crackly international call.

He was being very stoic and grown-up about it. I usually descend into a pit of self-hatred and recrimination when I lose stuff, which is about every other day.

But look: Jacob's only gone and found the wallet this morning in a tiny crevice in the foot-well of the car!

Huzzah!