Thursday, July 23, 2009
38: Finally
| Stoker's Log |
| Day Thirty Eight |
 |
| 7/23/09 |
| From Colorado Springs, CO |
| To Aurora, CO |
| 93.8 miles |
| 10.4 avg mph |
We were apprehensive to do any more riding on dirt, but the bike trail we took promised to turn into pavement after a few miles, and thankfully it did.
It became a nice, shaded ride that led us to the America the Beautiful Park, featuring a giant, rotating sculpture and fountain.
After using the park bathroom, which had no stall doors, freezing metal seats, and a spastic autoflush (I've had worse) we got going again. A detour around some construction allowed us to see more of Colorado Springs, including a railroad depot and the university; gotta love a city that not only has bike paths, but has well-planned bike detours too. Back on the Pikes Peak Greenway, we passed a BMX park, a random suit of armor, and a solar-powered bird house, or so I insisted to Kyle at the time.
The best stop along the way was a bike shop that was more than ready for the Tour de France.
Of course they had a television showing coverage of the Tour, so I camped out in front of it quite happily while Kyle wandered the store fruitlessly looking for tubes in the right size. I was watching a replay of earlier events, but I hadn't checked the results the night before so it didn't make a difference to me... Until a woman came up and told me how it ended. Barely a hello before informing me "he finishes fourth in this stage." Is this woman an idiot in general or just about sports? I really wish I had told her off instead of just nodding my head in disbelief until she went away. Luckily, the other woman I met there, a seasoned recumbent rider, was really nice and normal and wanted to talk about touring cycling, not the race I was watching. I also learned more about the major races for female cyclists thanks to old posters for Tour Feminin. I really need to get up to speed on these things.
Fueled by delicious Cliff Mojo bars, we headed back to the trail, which became increasingly difficult to navigate. We had to ride, or occasionally carry the bike, up steep hills with logs across them to stop erosion. It got a little crazy. Eventually we pulled off the trail at the only nearby lunch option: a McDonalds that was having a lot of problems. The AC was broken, the floor under the soda machine was flooded, and the bathroom was apparently subpar; I actually thought it was super nice, but everyone else in there was whining about it. I did, however, have a problem with the bathrooms at our next stop: a park where the flush toilets were dangerously clogged up and the porta-potty was literally filled to the brim. It was indescribably disgusting. The park views almost made up for it (but not quite).
Mountains and trees! I finally feel like we're in Colorado and not Coloransus.
It was clear that we were riding through desirable land, the realm of the extremely affluent who can afford to build mansions on acres of undeveloped land and who golf together at a driving range with stunning views and a downhill advantage.
When we got to Lakespur we stopped at a country store with astonishly overpriced can goods, a charming outdoor dining area, and absolutely scrumptious rootbeer freezes.
We then had to decide whether to take the interstate or hilly backroads. As much as I love a flat shortcut, the interstate just looked too busy to be safe, so we took the long way. The hills were tiring but surmountable, and it all evened out when we got to coast down a long and luxurious downhill, topping out at 44 miles per hour without trying. We also got to pass a Renaissance Faire (which we initially thought and hoped was another mansion under construction) and a white horse that ran eagerly towards us like something out of a fairy tale.
We also passed a railroad yard, where Kyle decided to stop and count the train cars. I wish I was kidding.
The railroad yard was just outside of the small town of Castle Rock, a name that makes perfect sense as soon as you see the massive natural structure overlooking it.
They also have a roller derby team nearby, as well as a rival team in Denver; I don't think I can sufficiently express my disappointment that we won't be in the area for any of their matches. We got a little lost in downtown Castle Rock, and as always seems to happen getting lost meant climbing extra hills. Eventually we got out and on the open road again, which turned out to be an awful time. With evening came the gnats; insufferable clouds of them came and went in front of our faces, flowing into every orifice. I held my handkerchief over my nose and mouth, which only helped a little since my ears and eyes were fair game, and Kyle was completely at their mercy and couldn't even swat them away. I already had a healthy hatred of insects before this trip, but each day seems to increase it.
We realized that we would never be done before dark, and our main headlight had decided to run out of batteries. Luckily we were back in the bustle of civilization, so we easily found somewhere to buy them. In the Best Buy parking lot we discovered...can you guess?...a flat tire! Add an extra trip into Best Buy when Kyle realized that he'd bought the wrong batteries, and you can imagine that not even a stunning sunset over the mountains could raise our mood much.
We had two routes that would take us into Aurora, the suburb of Denver where our friends Pickle and Dave live. We could take a bike trail or a highway. Usually the choice would be easy, but with memories of the horrible dirt trail out of Pueblo still fresh in our minds, we decided to stick to the highway. Later we discovered that the trail was actually quite nice and paved the whole way, but I don't even want to talk about that frustration right now.
Even if the trail had been dirt, the other route was still a terrible decision. It was a true highway, six lanes wide and very busy, and to make it worse, we got lost a few times along the way. We clung to the shoulder, fearing for our lives as cars whizzed by, and trying to make our way to the sidewalk whenever possible, legal or not. I'm not comfortable riding at night to begin with, even with periodic streetlights and gaudy neon advertisements lighting the way, and here we were in the midst of fast, heavy traffic, blindly trusting the Garmin's confusing directions. We finally made it onto calmer roads, but whenever we stopped panicking we just realized how exhausted and irritable we were. If we had been in any state to appreciate anything, the nightlife and cleverly illuminated street signs of Parker would have impressed us, but we just desperately wanted to find the right section of Aurora. I was riding with the Garmin on my lap and started a delirious countdown when their house finally, finally showed up on the map.
Pickle was outside to welcome us in even though were were hours later than expected; she said she had been peeking her head out periodically, hoping we would be coming at that moment... or the next...or the next...and happened to catch us. Dave (aka Batman) had cooked up a heap of delicious pasta and meatballs that we cheerfully devoured. It was amazing, almost as amazing as sinking into the guest bed and knowing that for the next few days we would be off the bike and in good hands. A true break, at last.
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| posted at: 02:10 |
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