Wednesday, June 9, 2021
I awoke early, peeled back the tent flap, and saw the mountains framed there, still gray in pre-dawn light.
I went back to sleep.
I really wanted to see them with only the summits reddened by the rising sun.
This required a few more sleep/wake cycles.
Not a bad way to pass the early morning.
When the moment arrived I tried to get a picture, but my phone claimed only 10% power available and refused to operate. I suspected it was overly pessimistic because it was cold, so I put it in my sleeping bag to warm up. Eventually it recovered to about 35% power, but by then I'd missed the photo op.
About that time a camper two sites over started a generator.
I'll spare you (most) of my rant about how one of the reasons I go camping is to avoid such noise.
What would be next, a leaf blower?
I grumbled and cursed under my breath, and got out my noise-cancelling earbuds to block the incessant drone.
Of course this also blocked the sounds I wanted to hear, like birds chirping. The breeze in the pines. The quiet roar of distant waterfalls.
I used the last of my water to make oatmeal, then prepared for a day ride.
Maybe by the time I got back my neighbors would have had their fill of TV, or whatever damn thing it was they couldn't live without, and therefore should have just stayed home to enjoy instead of disturbing the peace of a primitive campground.
Therese and I headed west over Independence Pass, luxuriously unencumbered by camping gear and soft luggage.
I awoke early, peeled back the tent flap, and saw the mountains framed there, still gray in pre-dawn light.
I went back to sleep.
I really wanted to see them with only the summits reddened by the rising sun.
This required a few more sleep/wake cycles.
Not a bad way to pass the early morning.
When the moment arrived I tried to get a picture, but my phone claimed only 10% power available and refused to operate. I suspected it was overly pessimistic because it was cold, so I put it in my sleeping bag to warm up. Eventually it recovered to about 35% power, but by then I'd missed the photo op.
About that time a camper two sites over started a generator.
I'll spare you (most) of my rant about how one of the reasons I go camping is to avoid such noise.
What would be next, a leaf blower?
I grumbled and cursed under my breath, and got out my noise-cancelling earbuds to block the incessant drone.
Of course this also blocked the sounds I wanted to hear, like birds chirping. The breeze in the pines. The quiet roar of distant waterfalls.
I used the last of my water to make oatmeal, then prepared for a day ride.
Maybe by the time I got back my neighbors would have had their fill of TV, or whatever damn thing it was they couldn't live without, and therefore should have just stayed home to enjoy instead of disturbing the peace of a primitive campground.
Therese and I headed west over Independence Pass, luxuriously unencumbered by camping gear and soft luggage.
I was pleased to find the two things I wanted from Aspen, a Thai restaurant and the public library, conveniently located on the east side of town and nearly on the same block.
At the Bangkok Happy Bowl I enjoyed a lunch of gang garee (yellow curry and potatoes).
In Aspen they don’t even ask if you want brown rice, it’s just automatic.
At the Bangkok Happy Bowl I enjoyed a lunch of gang garee (yellow curry and potatoes).
In Aspen they don’t even ask if you want brown rice, it’s just automatic.
After lunch I moved Therese into a cool dark parking garage adjacent the Pitkin County library, where up on mezzanine level I found a bright and airy workspace conveniently supplied by a multi-outlet power strip. I plugged in all my devices and wrote dispatches.
Before departing I pirated the Aspen public water system to fill all my canteens, including the collapsible.
It was another fun, spectacular ride back over Independence Pass.
Before departing I pirated the Aspen public water system to fill all my canteens, including the collapsible.
It was another fun, spectacular ride back over Independence Pass.
Unlike on my westward ride I stopped at scenic overlooks.
Returning to Twin Lakes I stopped at the gas pumps which I’d passed that morning, noting a sign that boasted, “Price about $1.00 less than Aspen”. I was pleased to find ethanol-free premium at one pump, which was truly vintage with mechanical dials and obviously no credit card slot.
I went in to pay for gas and loaded up on snacks.
The young lady with curly blonde hair who cashed me out was named Megan, which I know because the shopkeeper (quite possibly her father) called her that. She enquired where I was staying and I told her I was camped at Lakeview, that I’d ridden to Aspen for lunch, and was on my way back to my tent. She seemed genuinely interested so I kept talking.
“Tomorrow I’ll ride to Aspen again. Then”, with an airy wave of my hand, “Somewhere beyond.”
“If you’re going beyond Aspen you should go to Paonia.”
“In fact, that’s not unlikely!”
I had conceived of something resembling a destination for Thursday’s ride, and Paonia was a serious contender for the final cut. While scanning Googlemaps in Leadville I’d spotted CO-141, a snakelike wiggle at the extreme western edge of Colorado. It was a road “from nowhere to nowhere”, so probably very lightly travelled, and appeared to have potential for epic desert vistas. I’d decided it was a great candidate for a new line on the big map of places I've ridden. One way to get to it was by reaching Paonia, or somewhere in that vicinity, before heading out into the unknown and uninhabited wasteland through which CO-141 meanders.
"Or there's Marble", Megan further suggested.
"I know Marble. Stayed there a few years ago. Might make sense for tomorrow."
"There's a great BBQ place in Marble", she continued. "Better than any place I know in Austin."
I didn’t have the heart to tell her my mid-day meal plan was a return to the Bangkok Happy Bowl.
It was only while sitting outside eating a Dove bar that I really noticed the sign above the pumps.
I nearly blew ice cream out my nose.
I went in to pay for gas and loaded up on snacks.
The young lady with curly blonde hair who cashed me out was named Megan, which I know because the shopkeeper (quite possibly her father) called her that. She enquired where I was staying and I told her I was camped at Lakeview, that I’d ridden to Aspen for lunch, and was on my way back to my tent. She seemed genuinely interested so I kept talking.
“Tomorrow I’ll ride to Aspen again. Then”, with an airy wave of my hand, “Somewhere beyond.”
“If you’re going beyond Aspen you should go to Paonia.”
“In fact, that’s not unlikely!”
I had conceived of something resembling a destination for Thursday’s ride, and Paonia was a serious contender for the final cut. While scanning Googlemaps in Leadville I’d spotted CO-141, a snakelike wiggle at the extreme western edge of Colorado. It was a road “from nowhere to nowhere”, so probably very lightly travelled, and appeared to have potential for epic desert vistas. I’d decided it was a great candidate for a new line on the big map of places I've ridden. One way to get to it was by reaching Paonia, or somewhere in that vicinity, before heading out into the unknown and uninhabited wasteland through which CO-141 meanders.
"Or there's Marble", Megan further suggested.
"I know Marble. Stayed there a few years ago. Might make sense for tomorrow."
"There's a great BBQ place in Marble", she continued. "Better than any place I know in Austin."
I didn’t have the heart to tell her my mid-day meal plan was a return to the Bangkok Happy Bowl.
It was only while sitting outside eating a Dove bar that I really noticed the sign above the pumps.
I nearly blew ice cream out my nose.
Back in camp I spent the afternoon dozing in my hammock and finishing off the little bottle of Jameson I’d bought in Leadville.
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