By Suzy Meredith-Orr
Twelve minutes of my drive to work takes me through the scenic north end of the Crystal Valley on Highway 133. It’s an opportune time to get centered; to plan the day; to observe nature’s beauty and the changing of the seasons; and, sometimes, to curse out the driver who just passed me going 70+ mph. I may have left the house intending to bask in awe at what God hath wrought, but I end up yelling at the empty road in front of me: “What the heck, dude? On a blind curve? Geez Louise!” Or, if I’m being honest, something more colorful.
My first curse word of the day usually erupts around mile marker 59. You know it — the straightaway where a car driving less than 60 mph is dismissed outright without even a “How do you do?” or “Thank you ma’am.” An exuberant driver, typically, tails me as close as possible before passing at an extreme speed. That it might make me hit my brakes to avoid a car coming towards us — and, worse, set me spinning on a patch of ice — matters not. Because that driver is only looking out for number one.
Do I want to retaliate? Yep, I do. Do I go through with it? Nope. My parents raised me well and the culprit is out of sight by the time I conjure the best method of exacting revenge. At least devising various scenarios makes the rest of the drive entertaining. The speed limit on Highway 133 between the BRB and Hayes Creek Falls is 50 mph. From there to Placita, it drops to 40 mph. I was told as a kid that those sections of road were built in such a way that they could be driven safely at those speeds without having to slow down for curves. Urban myth? Maybe, but 50 and 40 do seem to be the magic numbers for avoiding repeated slow downs and speed ups. If only more drivers were interested in testing that out.
These almost daily vehicular dustups certainly frustrate. So far, my experiences have been minor compared to those of some Crystal Valleyans. Folks have been driven off the road because of such circumstances. It’s extreme stuff to encounter on a curvy two-lane road bordered by the Valley wall and the river. Add nighttime driving, and those new low-beam headlights that sear your eyeballs, and safely reaching one’s destination can be a mini miracle.
The lack of law enforcement in the Valley perpetuates the problem.
Folks we see walking between Redstone and the Coke Ovens travel at about 2.5 to 3 mph. The kids getting off of the school bus probably move slightly faster. Impressive cyclists who frequent 133 in the summer might make 18 mph.
Then there are the quadrupeds that occupy the fringes of the highway and traverse it frequently. A leisurely walk for a mule deer is about the same as a human, but they can run 35 mph. A mature male elk can run as fast as 40 mph. But sometimes 40 isn’t fast enough. My husband and I hit an elk once. It was on Highway 82 by Aspen Glen at 5am. I’ll never forget the shock of a huge animal slamming into the front of our car. Or, more accurately, the shock of our car slamming into a huge animal. We pulled over, examined the crunched bumper and hood and looked for the elk. It wasn’t there. The police officer said the bull would likely have wandered off the highway where he would collapse and die. To say that we were devastated would be an understatement.
A few years later, while driving to Carbondale, we saw a deer writhing in the middle of Highway 133 near Thomas Road. We stopped and the driver behind us walked up to ask if we had a gun. It was the only time in my life I wished I had one.
The point is, it happens all too often.
If you value wildlife, you likely find it heart-wrenching to see a creature that is hurt and struggling in vain. To know our species is even tangentially responsible is a terrible feeling. Other than keeping my speed down, staying alert and saying a little prayer, I feel pretty helpless about bettering the odds. Fortunately, there’s an organization that’s working on behalf of everyone’s safety. Roaring Fork Safe Passages (roaringforksafepassages.org) was formed to study wildlife-vehicle collisions and propose solutions. According to their website, wildlife collisions account for 30% of all reported accidents in the Roaring Fork watershed. For the Crystal Valley, they’ve identified the stretch near Sustainable Settings as a high priority site for a wildlife crossing. Their data indicates that rising needs for housing, transportation and recreation has resulted in habitat fragmentation.
Migration corridors are ingrained in the DNA of ungulates. Herds of elk will settle in the front yards of suburban neighborhoods. We look for the bighorn in Filoha Meadows because we know they’ll be there at some point in the spring. We’ve all seen the deer that cross 133 near the Montessori school in Carbondale. Carbondale has been there a long time. Deer have been there longer.
I don’t retaliate when I encounter clueless speed demons, but a lack of action won’t improve the situation either. It’s time to figure out a way to educate and make a difference.
Thankfully, many drivers are not just looking out for number one. Making our highways safer for humans and wildlife will require the compassion and efforts of many. More people must understand that our relationship with the wild parts of our Valley should be centered in respect.
To learn more about the Crystal Valley Environmental Protection Association, visit www.cvepa.org