Eat here, get gas.
Winnie and I have been coming here since 1969. We’ve owned a place here for some of those
years and have rented when we didn’t have a place of our own. It has been a second home and in most
respects we feel like locals when we’re in this beautiful valley that has Gore
Creek and the Eagle River defining the base line for the path through these
mountains. This is the Vail Valley.
For forty years on Route 6 just west of Dowd’s Junction sat
the Route 6 Diner and Gas Station. Housed
in an early vintage metal building, this was a place where the locals could fill
their tank and their bellies with fuel for the day. In the days before I-70 cut a wider notch
through the Junction, US 40 crossed Route 6 near the diner that served the
people who converted the valley ranch land into one of the largest and best
known ski resorts in the world. The
diner sat on the north side and sharply below the highway. If you didn’t stop, you’d mostly see its roof
and the winged logo with a large 6 at its center that was mounted at the peak
of the roof’s gable.
Until about ten years ago, the Route 6 Diner, with its huge
coffee cups and “seat yourself” ambience, had escaped notice of most travelers
to the Valley. There were restaurants
aplenty in Vail, Eagle-Vail, Beaver Creek, Avon and Edwards whose mission was
to attract the visitors, tourists and skiers from around the world. No, the Route 6 Diner with its concrete
floor, wooden tables and boisterous staff intended to treat whoever walked
through the door as a wayfaring friend.
Working people, skiers, bikers, golfers, locals and tourists were all given
good food, some laughs and the signature breakfast meals were served throughout
the day. The Full Monty Bene or the
Grand Slam, as the names imply, are more food than a single human should eat
unless they just finished a double marathon.
On this trip the Route 6 Diner and Gas Station building was
boarded up and a dumpster sat on its west side full of the detritus of
demolition. There was a sign that said
gas was available – pay at the pump. The
diner was gone.
Another tradition for us is to go to Garfinkle’s for their 7
pepper rub wings. Garfinkle’s is a pub
that sits at the foot of the mountain just across from the Vista Bahn and the
Gondola. It has a north side deck from
which you can watch skiers in the winter and bikers in the summer work their
way across and down the slopes to the bridge over Gore Creek and back into Lion’s
Head, the west commercial center of Vail.
On the deck, dogs are welcome. In
fact, they are treated to a bucket of water and an occasional French fry
dropped by a sly waiter. Just last fall,
we took Eva there for her first such outing while I ate the 7 pepper wings.
Last night was Garfinkle’s night for us. Eva was tired from a day at Donovan Park and
a stroll through Vail Village so she stayed at the condo. We were going to watch the young families on
bicycles as they rode along the Gore Creek path and the mountain bikers as they
risk life and limb coming down the mountain.
(An aside. I did this a couple of
years ago – rented a bike, took the Gondola to the top, and rode the bike down –
sticking to the green and blue slopes.
Shortly after I rented the bike, I noticed the gears didn’t shift very
well so I took it back for them to be adjusted.
The guy at the bike shop assured me that the gears weren’t important –
what I needed to check was the brakes!
Wow, was he ever right.)
Garfinkle’s menu was new.
The 7 pepper wings were nowhere to be seen. I asked the waiter who gave me a strange look
and tried to convince me that one of the other styles would be almost the
same. It would not. I had a burger.
 |
| New American Gothic |
We watched a yellow lab chase tennis balls until he decided
he needed to cool off by jumping in the pond on the miniature golf course. Then he'd shake to share the cool mist with all the passers by. We watched a couple who we dubbed the New
American Gothic. You can judge for
yourself. There were lots of cyclists –
including some who could not yet be the age when we first brought our young family
here. The petunias, marigolds and
lobelia flowers in all the flower boxes were as radiant as ever in this
hospitable climate.
But for the first time, Thomas Wolfe’s notion that you can’t
go home again seemed to hit us. There
just may never be another place where, “Eat Here, Get Gas” will be the words
that welcome you home.
--td