Excerpt from; "San Juan Huts with the Crack of Noon Club"

The rolling hills of Last Dollar Road were straight from a classic Larry McMurtry novel. At any moment I expected a horse riding cowboy to come over a gentle hill, gun holstered as he surveyed the land looking over his cattle while a dog ran barking the large animals into order. Massive snow capped peaks surrounded us with fields of wildflowers flowing down from the mountains with an occasional herd of cattle. Aside from a massive plow grading our road to a perfect buttery smoothness, we did not see a single other person out there.