Monday, June 4, 2018
There was no question Jana would be riding Therese this morning. I was feeling somewhat better, but all logical and emotional arguments pointed to letting Jana have another nice ride through what promised to be a fine early-summer Colorado day.
We went north to Montrose, got gas, and had breakfast at Starvin' Arvin's.
Nobody who eats there would be starvin' for weeks after.
We then headed east on US-50. Larry kept commenting that Jana was probably mad at him because the temperature was in the low 60s and at his advice she hadn't layered up for it.
The most notable event during the ride was when we encountered a torrent of water emerging, as best we could tell, from under the pavement in the middle of the road. It did not bode well for continued integrity of the highway, and worse still it slimed Gary's bike that he'd detailed (again).
Therese, on the other hand, had not been detailed anywhere but the mirrors (that's something I am fussy about) and gas tank (mainly to reduce scratches, not that the area where the rider's thighs rub against the plastic hasn't had a substantial patina since my first season with the bike). I actually find such evidence of long and pleasurable association with the machine attractive; years ago I bought some rubbery protectors to stick on over those places where scuffing will inevitably occur, but I thought they were ugly and decided I liked the scuff marks. Therese's next owner, if she ever has another, is welcome both to the pads and the option to use them to hide the scuffs.
We took a break at Dry Creek, where a black Dog was having the Best Day Ever chasing the Ball his Man repeatedly tossed out into the Blue Mesa Reservoir.
The picnic pavilion was a disgusting mess, encrusted with a layer of mud swallow guano despite the efforts of rangers to discourage the birds from nesting under the roof.
At this point I was ready to ride. I was feeling pretty good, and in fact I'd have had to have been damn near dead to give up a chance to ride the last leg of this trip, CO-149, the "Silver Thread", a now familiar and typically traffic-free route that leads to Dad's house via a delicious series of warps, convolutions, and undulations.
I was especially happy to find that the road over Slumgullion Pass and Spring Creek Pass has been resurfaced since last I was on it, when it was a twenty mile stretch of frost heaves.
The nice smooth pavement has already acquired a scar, however, from the floorboard of a Harley whose rider failed to negotiate a straightaway. The bike was down in a ditch halfway up the pass, standing straight upright. A trooper was on station as was a flatbed transporter; the rider and passenger, if any, were not in evidence although possibly in the back seat of the cruiser.
It could have been a lot worse...Slumgullion has no shortage of sheer cliffs to fall off of and aspen thickets to crash into. On the other hand there are now a lot fewer ponderosa pines to collide with, since millions have been killed by invasive bark beetles, and quite a few of their dried and desiccated carcasses have been felled and hauled away.
We arrived at Dad's and I wheeled Therese into the garage.
My companions lingered for a bit to chat, and then moved on to Pagosa Springs and the next set of hot springs. The next day they arrived safely back in Phoenix -- although Jana reports that she is now also coming down with the creeping crud.
I, on the other hand, was finally in a place with a strong fast and secure internet connection, and no need to do much of anything but edit and upload videos and write those nagging dispatches.
Unfortunately the last day's ride was a bust for video. I'd misaligned the camera from the start so most of the footage was of fluffy clouds in a bright blue sky; and even that was obscured by a bug splat incurred just a few miles south of Blue Mesa Reservoir.
Thursday I'll head back to Mom's, wash Therese (yes that does happen occasionally), and then Friday catch the red-eye back home.
There was no question Jana would be riding Therese this morning. I was feeling somewhat better, but all logical and emotional arguments pointed to letting Jana have another nice ride through what promised to be a fine early-summer Colorado day.
We went north to Montrose, got gas, and had breakfast at Starvin' Arvin's.
Nobody who eats there would be starvin' for weeks after.
We then headed east on US-50. Larry kept commenting that Jana was probably mad at him because the temperature was in the low 60s and at his advice she hadn't layered up for it.
The most notable event during the ride was when we encountered a torrent of water emerging, as best we could tell, from under the pavement in the middle of the road. It did not bode well for continued integrity of the highway, and worse still it slimed Gary's bike that he'd detailed (again).
Therese, on the other hand, had not been detailed anywhere but the mirrors (that's something I am fussy about) and gas tank (mainly to reduce scratches, not that the area where the rider's thighs rub against the plastic hasn't had a substantial patina since my first season with the bike). I actually find such evidence of long and pleasurable association with the machine attractive; years ago I bought some rubbery protectors to stick on over those places where scuffing will inevitably occur, but I thought they were ugly and decided I liked the scuff marks. Therese's next owner, if she ever has another, is welcome both to the pads and the option to use them to hide the scuffs.
We took a break at Dry Creek, where a black Dog was having the Best Day Ever chasing the Ball his Man repeatedly tossed out into the Blue Mesa Reservoir.
The picnic pavilion was a disgusting mess, encrusted with a layer of mud swallow guano despite the efforts of rangers to discourage the birds from nesting under the roof.
At this point I was ready to ride. I was feeling pretty good, and in fact I'd have had to have been damn near dead to give up a chance to ride the last leg of this trip, CO-149, the "Silver Thread", a now familiar and typically traffic-free route that leads to Dad's house via a delicious series of warps, convolutions, and undulations.
I was especially happy to find that the road over Slumgullion Pass and Spring Creek Pass has been resurfaced since last I was on it, when it was a twenty mile stretch of frost heaves.
The nice smooth pavement has already acquired a scar, however, from the floorboard of a Harley whose rider failed to negotiate a straightaway. The bike was down in a ditch halfway up the pass, standing straight upright. A trooper was on station as was a flatbed transporter; the rider and passenger, if any, were not in evidence although possibly in the back seat of the cruiser.
It could have been a lot worse...Slumgullion has no shortage of sheer cliffs to fall off of and aspen thickets to crash into. On the other hand there are now a lot fewer ponderosa pines to collide with, since millions have been killed by invasive bark beetles, and quite a few of their dried and desiccated carcasses have been felled and hauled away.
We arrived at Dad's and I wheeled Therese into the garage.
My companions lingered for a bit to chat, and then moved on to Pagosa Springs and the next set of hot springs. The next day they arrived safely back in Phoenix -- although Jana reports that she is now also coming down with the creeping crud.
I, on the other hand, was finally in a place with a strong fast and secure internet connection, and no need to do much of anything but edit and upload videos and write those nagging dispatches.
Unfortunately the last day's ride was a bust for video. I'd misaligned the camera from the start so most of the footage was of fluffy clouds in a bright blue sky; and even that was obscured by a bug splat incurred just a few miles south of Blue Mesa Reservoir.
Thursday I'll head back to Mom's, wash Therese (yes that does happen occasionally), and then Friday catch the red-eye back home.
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