Saturday and Sunday

Buena Vista, 4.45 am outside the Topaz Motel. ( I lasted about 5 minutes; it was 40 degrees.
I did not do a blog entry last night for various reasons and I woke up early wanting to write. Several years ago, I started writing almost every day and then I got lazy and basically stopped. One of the realizations that I have during these trips is how important it is to write and I am going to makes renewed commitment. And to make some other changes in areas that I know I am capable of.
I am not sure why these trips provide an opportunity for reflection, but they do. Perhaps it is because of my time with George. We are both "candid" with each other about each other. Perhaps it is because of the Intense focus necessary to ride a motorcycle safely. There is a decided meditative quality when you ride. That may sound bizarre given the loudness of the machines and the speeds they travel; this would appear to be the antithesis of spending a week at a retreat at a spiritual center, but in many ways it is not. In both settings it is possible (and necessary) to rid your mind of the the thoughts that are so often destructive. Your mind becomes more quiet during theses rides and that brings about a healthy dose of awareness.
George will think this is all a bunch of hogwash.
We started yesterday in Crested Butte, a mining town turned ski resort and watering hole for the one percent. We had a great time and healthy discussions about Lance Armstrong who was there for a bike race. But it is not the type of town we wanted to spend a lot of time in, so we got on the machines and took off. There had been a disagreement about the route (not uncommon). The previous day I had wanted to take a longer and more ambitious adventure; the next day I felt that I had taken too strident a position ("George, I am NOT going on route 50"), and apologized. George then said that he wanted to go the longer way.
We headed off over a 30 mile dirt road to take the shortest route to Aspen. Unlike the other "dirt" we have enjoyed, we did not have the place to ourselves and it was filled with dust and other cars. We had another brief encounter with cattle blocking the road ( the larger ones stare menacingly at you when you are near the calves).
We then headed east on a two lane road along the Gunnison canyon and eventually over to Aspen. We stayed about half an hour after briefly taking in the usual wine festival and international rugby tournament. As noted, these towns are not for me unless they have a foot of powder.
We went over Independence pass at 12 thousand feet, going up and down the most narrow twisting roads of the trip. Great fun. I usually go first, updating George on hairpin turns and oncoming traffic, but I must say that he is now so Incredibly competent on his bike that he does not need much help. He is irrationally still scared of interstate highways, but on challenging back roads his improvement has been amazing. And by amazing, I don't mean excessively fast; he really knows how to handle the bike now. In the past, it seemed at times he was fighting it and sometimes struggling with the machine. He was safe because he went so slow and would stop constantly to let other cars past; no longer. There is no doubt that this "sport" is dangerous, but George is now incredibly competent and shows good judgment. I am proud of him.
We stopped in Twin Lakes, a very small town dominated by two 14 thousand twin peaks (yes there are also two lakes of very different sizes so I am not sure why they call it Twin Lakes). This is one of my favorite places in Colorado. I realized that this is now my fifth trip to Colorado in the past year and I love it more each time.
I am sure that George has already described our great night in Buena Vista and the Kelsey Hunt concert which I had earlier made emphatically clear I would not attend. She brought the house ( maybe 50 people) down; the next day she was off to play in front of ten thousand in a sold out concert (with other artists) in Telluride. I bought an autographed CD (for Celia),
I realize that we had too many long days on the bikes, not enough rest, and did no hiking. That should change in the future. Going off road was fantastic but I am returning home with many aching bones and feeling pretty tired. A fantastic trip, an ever evolving relationship with George, but we should change some things in the future.
It's been almost two weeks since I have seen Celia because she went away with some friends to one of the "Thousand Islands" on the St. Lawrence. I have really missed her.
-Eric
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On Saturday we got a late start so that we could watch the Alpine Odyssey 100 K in Crested Butte. The town was buzzing Friday night that Lance Armstrong would be racing. I knew from reading his biography that he would show up one minute before race time and go right to the front of the pack. So, I positioned myself accordingly. Not to disappoint, he arrived exactly as the PA announcer declared "60 seconds to start time".




Fame has its privileges.
Around 11 a.m. we departed Crested Butte and headed to Kebler Pass Road.




This is a beautiful forest road that connects highway 135 with Paonia Reservoir and highway 133. It was an easy drive, suitable for any vehicles. If you have your own car and like aspens, mountains, and lots of photos ops, take this road. The next time you are in town. You won't be disappointed.
We stopped for lunch at a Subway in Carbondale. I had a vegetarian sub, six inches. Tastes just like back home. Yum!
From Carbondale we headed east for about 45 miles and stopped in Aspen.
It was cool to arrive in the middle of a huge rugby torunament. Lots of beer tents, music, and big hulking guys who were ready to do battle.




Unfortunately, aI could not convince Eric to stick around and watch. I couldn't help but recall my short career playing in college. I broke my nose in the fourth game. I went to the hospital where they reset it by wrapping gauze around some forceps, sticking it my nose and jerking it back into place. As unpleasant an experience as I can ever remember.
Aspen itself was disappointing. Lots of upscale restaurants and shops. Like Crested Butte, it didn't have any of the authenticity of the mining towns like Silverton and Ouray.
East of Aspen, we steadily climbed Highway 82 next to the Roaring Fork River towards the Sawatch Range and reached a high point of 12K plus feet at Independence Pass,




then descended into the even more beautiful valley of Lake Creek, eventually joining US 24 approx. fifteen miles south of Leadville. The scenery at the pass and all along the 44 mile route was some of the most spectacular we've seen. The road ran right beneath many great mountains including the highest in the state (14K plus foot Mount Elbert), and rose well above the treeline into the stark Alpine tundra zone, while also passing lakes, rivers, steep-sided valleys, thick forests of fir and extensive aspen groves. This time of year the yellowing leaves made the landscape incredibly colorful and photogenic.
From Lake Creek




we booked it to Buena Vista. We were pretty wiped out but needed to get within striking distance of Denver so that we could finish the trip by 11 a.m. this morning. We had a decent meal at a local Asian restaurant. It seems you can now call a Chinese restaurant an Asian restaurant and charge twice as much. Afterwards, we went into the local "theatre" to watch/listen to some blues music. We were told that the lead act, Kelley Hunt,

was a national star. We hadn't heard of her but she sure played like she was. The concert was a fundraiser for the local library. We felt good about paying the $25. The good music was a bonus.
We are now in the airport waiting for our flight. Goskowski just missed a 40 yd. kick at the end of the game. Pats lose. Ouch.
A wonderful trip. A big thank you to Bill Smith, the bike store (Colorado Tourbike Rentals) owner who rented us the BMW's. A great guy and great bikes. And of course, thank you Eric for the exhausting, but exhilarating ride.
That's it for now. Thanks for following.
Until next year....
- George
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Location:Oak Hill St,Denver,United States

Owl Creek Pass

Saturday morning
We're having breakfast at the Grand Lodge Buffett in Crested Butte, the first upscale hotel we've stayed at. The bill reflects it. Check it out.




There are two sales taxes, a lodging tax, a town center tax and a resort fee. Give me a break.
I'm not wild about this kind of town. It's far from the genuine mining towns we've been at the past few nights. It caters to the wealthy skiing crowd. Downtown, an artificial strip where we ate last night, looks much Breckenridge, or Telluride. Not my cup of tea. The pizza; sausage and jalopena was good as was the Czar Imperial Stout. I nursed the stout slowly as Eric and I argued about which route to take today. It's our last full day or riding and we are trying to balance beauty vs arrival time near Denver. Beauty won out. It will be a long, but surely panoramic trip today.
Yesterday started auspiciously but ended up being what I thought was the best ride yet. Shortly after leaving Silverton, about five miles down the steep windy switchback towards Ohrey, we encountered a group of bikers on the side of the road tending to one of its own. The large man was on the ground next to his Harley Fat Boy. He seem to shaken, but ok. At lest we hope so. We think the tight turns had someone traveling in the opposite direction come into his lane and cut him off. Thankfully he went down on the mountain side. Going off the road on the open side would have been a whole different story. The biker down was a another reminder for us to remain diligent. We have been very cautious, continually minding ourselves through the intercoms to remain focused.
Outside of Ridgeway we turned off on Owl Creek Pass Road, a 40 mile beautiful pass through forest and pastoral landscapes.


What made it so compelling was the fact that the is particularly aspens are turning. Brilliant yellows everywhere. Great views of high and jagged Cimarron Ridge, the 12,152-foot monolith of Courthouse Mountain and 11,781-foot Chimney Rock. Owl Creek Pass is 10,114 feet.




We encountered a few hunting vehicles along the way but otherwise had the road to ourselves. One of Eric's suitcases fell off along the way. That took about a hour to repair and reattach. Other than that little mishap, the trip was a dream cruise that I hope to repeat some day in the future.




After a late lunch in Gunnison we leisurely headed up the final 30 miles to Crested Butte.
The BMW's have treated us well. If you are interested in seeing and hearing more about them, below is a little tutorial from Eric....

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Location:Emmons Rd,Crested Butte,United States

Friday a.m., a bit frosty

A brisk beautiful morning in Silverton. 33 degrees. Frost on the bikes.


Had a great breakfast at the Avalanche chatting with some locals


and now watching the mountains light up with the rising sun.










Waiting for Eric to wake up so that we can start a new day of adventure.



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Location:Mineral St,Silverton,United States

Silverton for a day, and a night

We are in Silverton, a classic old western town, widely known as one of the coldest places in the country. Elevation 9500 feet.

For reasons that are difficult, in retrospect, to understand we decided to tackle the Alpine Loop, a sixty mile rock and dirt horror story, but stupefying beautiful. After visiting a ghost town.


, we headed up the trail to Engineer Pass at 12k feet. Only I headed on the impassable road to Ouray and was almost immediately in serious trouble. Thanks to George, we were able to turn the bike around but my zeal to conquer 15 percent rock scree was over. We headed back to Silverton, happy to be intact and absolutely awed by the views and surroundings.


I am going to rely on the pictures that


George is going to put on the blog because I am sick of using the word spectacular.


Beside, we had to be back by 4, so George could have access to a wifi signal to watch the rampaging Huskies. I hope that you will have time to watch the video of George sitting on his motorcycle. A pillow at his back, iPad plugged into the accessory socket, watching a tough loss (1-0 on a penalty kick).

So I will let Silverton speak through the videos and pictures that will appear with this blog. Dedicated readers will discern a different editorial direction as I am now taking a more active role in controlling content. So you should also check out the video that describes more about our misadventures

George tried Rocky Mountain Oysters tonight. Look it up if you don't know what it is.

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Location:Mineral St,Silverton,United States

Thursday a.m. In Durango

I woke up at 5. Breakfast didn't start til 6:30. I didn't want to wake Eric so I head to the Econolodge lobby to read.



Morning moon over Econolode


Spent an hour talking to the desk clerk. His name is "Bear", appropriately so.
Bear is not the most sensitive soul. Here are a few of his pearls of wisdom.
- You're going to Silverton on bikes from here??? Much of the way there is no road shoulder and the drop is 2,000 feet. Whatever you do, don't look down.
- with all the rain we had yesterday there is sure to be ice and snow up there.
- look out for bear and moose. A few bikers were hit by them this summer.
- part of my job at night is to chase the bears out if the parking lot. They tend to smell the food in people's vehicles and rooms and sometimes brake the windows to get in.

Bear is a piece of work.

I just saw on CNN that in response to the anti U.S. activities in Yemen and Libya, we are putting some marines on the ground to protect our embassies. My nephew is a marine on the USS Iwo Jima in the area. My prayers to he and his men. Be safe Doug!



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Location:Main Ave,Durango,United States

Safe and sound in Durango

Wednesday night

I missed a day. I'm sorry. We rode over 270 miles, over fifty On dirt. We were out of bed at 5 and off at seven thirty. We rode over Ute pass and down to Dillion where we briefly stopped to see two of my good friends, Anita and Helmut Singer. Then it was down to Breckenridge and over boraas pass.

These bikes do really well on the dirt trails. Granted they are not particularly challenging, but we are loaded down with side and top cases. Going off road just adds a whole new dimension for me; it's all I really want to do now. Lots of focus and lots of dust, but more for George as he refuses to depart from the ritual of me leading the way.

There have been so many spectacular experiences over the last two days that I cannot include them all in one entry and I am sure George has mentioned most of them. Two stand out. Maybe three.

Last winter, Celia and I bought inexpensive ski season passes. One of us flies for free and we have our friends in summit county where we could stay free. We were so bummed when there appeared to be no snow in December in Colorado. But we were wrong. While vail and keystone had no snow, there was this small ski area in southwest Colorado, wolf creek, that had tons. But to get there you had to drive five or six hours from Denver. We did it three times, once with my daughter Alex.

We did not mind the drive because most of it is between two mountain ranges, one of which is called the San Juan's and I forget the other. The ranges are separated at times by about 75 miles, and the valley floor is almost totally flat. It is beyond spectacular. In fact the dust from one end of the valley floor blows from one range to the next creating sand dunes so hight, the government created a National Park.

So that is the stage. And we are riding through it yesterday. The weather is beautiful but thirty or so miles away, there are black (not dark, black) stretching in a straight line (perpindicular to us) between the two mountain ranges. And underneath the black clouds are what appears to me to be a waterfall, seventy or so miles wide and about thirty miles ahead of us. Not a cloud between us and what we are headed into.

Now it is twenty miles away. We pull our bikes over to the side and talk. We could turn around and head back. It's not chasing us. Heading into it really terrifies me. We ride in the rain, but this gives meaning to the term sheets of rain. Then there is the wind. We can stay on with 30 mph wind; after that it gets tricky.

George wants to continue, with me in the lead. I am surprised. He is -- how can I put this politely -- conservative. So we decide to go on, but it feels very much like as if we are charging into something that could be bad.

But it isn't. It is a wall of water that drenches us for about ten minutes until we go out the other side and into the sun again. Exhilirating and exciting but probably never dangerous.

We left South Fork late today headed for Durango. Over Wolf Creek Pass. Forty degrees and raining hard. Dry on the other side of the pass. We stop at a waterfall. Margot has called George's cell phone five times. The top case of his bike had fallen off twenty seven miles back from where we are. He tells me that I should go back and get it because he had "bare knuckled" fear heading down the pass. He later admits (two hours after I return soaking wet), that this is a total lie. He wanted to hear about the new iPhone 5 on his iPad. Another day on the trail.
- Eric

----------------------

Holy Toledo, or should I say Holy Dorango. Today's riding ended much the same way that yesterday's did. We left Pegosa Springs around 2:30 hoping to make it to Silverton before dark. We never made it. About 30 minutes west of Pegosa the sky started to turn. It's amazing how fast the clouds changed from wispy white to thick black. And I mean black. At the same time the lighting started. We quickly found a small side road, turned in and found a closed snack shack where we took shader on the porch for an hour. Not sooner had we sat down than the winds started whipping, the thunder boomed, echoing through the canyon and the rain changed to hail.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PV95szrGtII
One lighting strike came very close and a thunder clap nearly knocked us out of our bench.

We got back on the road around 4 p.m., a little too soon. Just after restarting, another lighting strike lit up the sky. We both yelled into the intercom that we needed to get off again. Unfortunately there was no cutoff to be found. Luckily, although the hard rain continued, the lighting didn't. When 30 minutes later we cut off for fuel, the locals at the gas station were staring at us. These hardened Coloradans thought we were nuts. One older gent offered; "What are you guys, organ donors or something?"

We decided not to try to get to Silverton today, opting for the Econolodge on Main Ave. in Durango instead.

There were lots of spectacular views along the way. The day and the evening were otherwise uneventful.

Good night all.
G.


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Location:Main Ave,Durango,United States

What an afternoon

Wednesday morning
Eric says it was courage. I say it was bad judgement. We'll let the readers decide (feel free to comment below).
Late yesterday afternoon, coming south on 285 from Como we encountered some stiff wind gusts, maybe 20 mph. The sky was darkening and the iPhone showed scattered thunderstorms, some severe, throughout the area. We stopped at a gas station/Thai restaurant (I guess you can combine anything) in Poncha Springs to assess the situation. We could either stay at the motel next door or continue on to Del Norte which was 75 miles ahead. There is no town in between, just miles of prairie touching up against the mountains off in the distance. We really didn't want to stay there. The sky seemed to be clearing so, some would say mistakenly, we decided to hoof it.
For 30 miles our decision seemed like a good one; a straight shot on 285 going 70 mph plus. Very quickly however, things started to change. We could see in the distance bands of clouds starting to form. It got darker by the second. Within 10 minutes a black curtain of swirling torrent covered the horizon in front of us, maybe 10 miles away. We were riding in bright sunshine but heading towards a curtain of death. There were miles of flat prairie on both sides, no where to stop or to find shelter from possible lightning. Yikes.
It felt like a movie. "The wind began to switch, our bikes to pitch and suddenly our plan started to unhitch" or something like that. The only things missing were Dorothy and the Wicked Witch.
As we approached the curtain, before the rain started, the winds fired up; 30 mph, maybe stronger. The gusts we encountered earlier came from one direction making it easier to deal with. All you had to do was lean your bike into them and you remained stable. Not these winds. They were hitting us from both sides. I swear they were trying to form a funnel. We slowed from 70 mph to 40. That helped a little but not a lot.
We had made our bed. Now we were sleeping in it. Oddly, for me, a zen sense of calm set in. If you're going to meet your maker, you might as well enjoy it. I took a deep breath, wiggled my shoulders, relaxed my grip and just went with it. The winds continued to bounce us around a then a few raindrops hit my visor. I realized that unlike Eric, my bike had no windshield. This really was going to be fun. A few miles from the curtain the torrent let loose. Oh dear lord. The only part of my body exposed was my neck. It felt like needles were being fired into my jugular.
As we reached the curtain the only thing I could think about was how deep it was. Thankfully, not very deep. The worst part lasted only 20 minutes. We soon emerged into another sunny range and one of the most brilliant rainbows I've ever seen. Phew, what an experience.
The rest of the trip to Del Norte was easy. In fact, so easy that we decided to keep going to South Fork 20 miles further ahead. That is where we pulled into the Chinook Lodge, rented a small cabin (mice and no hot water) and then walk a mile each way to a rodeside diner, The Rainbow, for spaghetti (me) and trout (Eric).
By the time we got back we were wiped. We read for a few minutes and then hit the hay.
Earlier in the day we crossed Ute Pass from near Grand Lodge to Dillon where we visited with Helmut and Anita for an hour. A great visit.
We then caught Boreas pass from Breckenridge




to Como. Both passes, all dirt and gravel roads, were spectacular.
It's raining outside right now. Forecast shows rain all day.




Eric thinks it's an opportunity for us to cover lots of miles on the paved roads so that we can get to Silverton for more off-rode biking. I'm thinking it's an opportunity to meander to Pegosa Springs or Durango and to relax a bit. Maybe we learned a lesson yesterday. Maybe not. We'll figure it out.
That's it for now.
Later.
George
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Location:Bryn Mawr,Pagosa Springs,United States

Too tired to blog today

Back from dinner, spaghetti for me and trout for Eric. Had a great day but too tired to write. Will do so in the morning. Here is where we are staying...



No hot water and a friendly mouse in the room. I'm too tired to care about either.
Good night to all.



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Location:Chinook Dr,South Fork,United States

Monday night in Grand Lake

Monday night
We are in Grand Lake for the night (see photo).




A very nice vacation town just outside of Rocky Mountain National Park.
This morning, at the bike shop, I opted for the smaller motorcycle, the BMW 650GS.




I'm so glad I did. It's very maneuverable, rides well on the highway, handles the Rocky Mountain curves really well and is perfect for the dirt and gravel back roads. Good stuff.
We began the trip with 30 miles of highway riding from Denver to Boulder on rte 70 and 36. A funny thing that rte 36. Your going 70 miles per hour most of the time and then you hit the U. of Colorado area of Boulder and it immediately changes to a series of stop signs and red lights.
From Boulder we went northwest taking Lee Hill Rd up into the mountains and then trekking over some great dirt roads up to the town Ward. It was an incredible ride with many run down towns overlooking miles and miles of incredible expanse. We experienced temperature swings of 30 plus degrees as we climbed and descended. The aspens are turning yellow and are shining brilliantly, especially as the sun emerges from intermittent clouds. Breathtaking.
For awhile I was wondering who those occasional back country folks we encountered are supporting in the upcoming presidential election. Then it dawned on me that these people are living off the grid. I'm sure they aren't paying incomes taxes much less voting for Obama or Romney. There are no utility poles, no cell towers, no paved roads, no piped in water. These people are on their own. No government assistance needed or wanted.
Not far outside of Boulder we pulled over to adjust the gps. A few minutes later a woman, Lisa, came walking up asking us to help her change her car tire. As I said "sure", Eric whispered into the intercom "We are behind schedule. No f...... way.". Or course we did help her. A mere 20 minutes delay for us and a huge favor for her. Eric will tell you that he did all of the work raising the car, loosening the lug nuts and replacing the tire. Of course I have photographic evidence




to the contrary (see photo).
From Ward we entered the Peak to Peak highway for the final 30 miles north to Estes Park. This ride took us through lots of old mining towns as we had ongoing views of Long Peak.




I could just imagine the wagon trains going through the valley below 200 years ago.
In Estes Park, we paid $10 each and entered Rocky Mountain National Park where we caught Trail Ridge road to Grand Lake. Oh my God. For 48 miles, we had the whole sweep of the Rockies before us in all directions. Matt Kennedy told us this would be spectacular and it didn't disappoint. Absolutely amazing.
I'm not sure I've ever been to 12,000 feet before. The altitude was kicking my butt. I was trying hard to focus but it was affecting my breathing, making me fatigued and affecting my judgement. Multiple times I entered the steep switchbacks going too fast. Once I took a turn too wide and there was a camper coming the other way. The driver jerked his vehicle to the right to avoid me. He screamed out his window. I was profusely apologetic and swore to myself that I would not let it happen again.
We stopped for lunch at Cafe in the Clouds (I think that was the name of it). It was a very touristy stop but at 11,500 feet,the panoramic views we're like no other you'd ever dine to.
Three quarters of the way down we reached the Continental Divide.




The Divide is pretty cool as this is where the watersheds separate, draining into the Pacific on one side and into river systems flowing to the Atlantic on the other.
We reached Grand Lake at 4 pm. We were wiped. I took a nap. Eric watched the U.S. Open. He screamed every time Murray scored a point. It was a fitfilled nap to say the least.

(paragraph deleted).

A long day tomorrow with an uncertain weather forecast. We hope to stop in Breckenridge for lunch with Helmut and Anita, Eric's friends who relocated here a few years ago.

Goodnight to all.

-George

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From Eric...
Today was pretty terrific. Up at 4am and on the road by ten. Had a great time changing the tire (without help) from a stranded motorist (female) that George decided to "help." But for those readers who have never been to rocky mountain national park, please go. There is no excuse. An hour from Denver. Spectacular and breathtaking. Before I die, but probably after a right knee replacement, I swear that Celia and I, with friends or possibly kids, will climb Long Peak.
The usual ups and downs with George, mostly ups, punctuated by one truly mortifying dinner when yet another server (attractive female) was hounded for a video blog. I initially left for the rest room but then returned to advise our twentysomething server, now under covert surveillance by George's omnipresent iPad of her right to say no. She was a good sport and did it anyway, but this could be a short trip if Colorado has a meaningful stalking law.
I would invite reader comment on whether these intrusions into the private lives of wait staff are ethical since some fear there tip money will be jeopardized if they decline. George would not do that but they do not know him.
Go to the Park. You will love it!

Monday breakfast at Denny's

Monday morning.
Eric arose early. Miraculous. We headed over for our free sausage, scrambled eggs, bagels, powdered OJ and oatmeal in a bag. We step into the dining area and Eric says "I'm not eating this crap." I'm still not in the mood to argue. There is a Denny's right next door. We head there instead. Ellie, the server, greets us with a big smile. The place is empty. I attempt a little humor. I ask "How long is the wait?". I'm not sure if here glance was one of being puzzled or annoyed. There certainly was no trace of a smile.
I should have let things be. Rather, I explained that we were doing a blog of our trip and wondered whether she would say a few words on video. Ellie politely declined but recruited Dwight, the host, to say a few words

Unfortunately I shut off the camera early. His best words were after the lights went down. Dwight is the man. Ellie is great too.
I had the Senior French Toast Slam for breakfast. My first discounted meal as a senior citizen (see photo) . I almost refused it but my frugality got the better of me.
We are off to pick up the bikes in a few minutes. Yes. The moment has arrived.
G

Our destination tomorrow; who knows?

10:30 p.m. local time, Sunday, Sept. 9th
We are at the Quality Inn in Aurora, CO for the night, having arrived just a few minutes ago. The familiar smell of Lysol permiates the air. I can't get the sink to stop dripping. The trucker next door has his TV blaring. Luxurious accommodations! I had thought $55 was a good deal until i saw the $43 neon Motel Six sign flashing next door. I'm talking to the manager in the morning. A continental breakfast awaits me at 6 a.m. I'm wondering whether Eric will join me before they close it down at 10.
I like to get to airports early but today was ridiculous. It was halftime of our soccer game, around 1:55 p.m. and Eric refused to wait til the end of the game to join me for a ride to the airport. Our flight was scheduled for 6:13 (it ended up leaving at 7:15) and the drive was 15 minutes. Eric says he had a mild case of traveling anxiety. My diagnosis was a little more severe, closer to full blown psychosis. Four hours early for a flight? What else is in store for this week?? Lord please look over me.
Our four and a half hour flight left an hour late. They said it was because of mechanical problems. I have my doubts. I looked out the terminal window and saw a large United Airlines Air Bus land and then get immediately surrounded by fleet of yellow fie engines. Smoke was coming from the left engine. I think they had cleared the runways of all take-offs and landings. They just didn't want to tell us so.
Back in the terminal Eric was making a scene. Our flight was full and he didn't want his assigned middle seat. Whaa whaa whaa. Cry me a river. Rather than hear about it all trip I decided to swap seats with him. He gave zero recognition to the fact that I recently had a full hip replacement.
As for our itinerary, here we go again. For months we've been talking about taking our large touring bikes from Denver to Rocky Mountain National Park, then heading southwest through Vail, Silverton, Durango and beyond. Yesterday I received a text message from Eric saying "Let's get smaller dual-sport bikes instead. We can spend the week in the mountains on dirt and rocky back roads? This could be the best trip ever or we could die." Hmm, way to sell it Eric. You may recall this is the same guy who led me on to Interstate 15 in Utah (Google it) for my first motorcycle ride. He also took me down black diamond slopes my first time skiing. There is a pattern here.
Privately, I must say, the back roads are tempting. I just flipped through Eric's paperback "The Complete Guide to Motorcycling in Colorado." There are many rarely traveled trails through old ghost towns and rocky canyons, and over mountain passes with sweeping views. I'm not sure we can pass them up. We'll decide for sure in the morning.
My eyelids are heavy. Time to call it a night.
I can't wait for our adventure to start. No matter the weather and destination, it's sure to be a blast.
Goodnight.
-George
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These trips start with great expectations and excitement. I have the feeling that this will be the best one yet, as all the others were (as they were at the time, until, of course, the next trip).
There are always glitches and we have had a few here already. Northeastern women's soccer is, of course, the reason why we can't take a full week or ten days. George is now the "voice" on radio for those rampaging Huskies so he could not leave until the very end of the game, which caused me to have significant anxiety about getting to the airport at least three hours before the flight is scheduled to take off.
So I took a cab at halftime. It was a US Airways flight with a US Airways flight number so I thought I foolishly thought I should go to the US Airways terminal. After standing in line for a while, a helpful attendant told me that notwithstanding the above, I should go to the United Airlines terminal. After waiting half an hour for a terminal shuttle bus, I walked the short half mile to Terminal C carrying 100 pounds of luggage. (George packs lightly as it is understood that I will carry (and buy) all communal equipment. In the past, "communal" has been defined quite broadly and includes many items, (gloves, rain jackets, etc.) that a careful reader might justly conclude were "personal" to the individual rider. But let's not be negative). Thoughtfully, I texted George to tell him to go to the United gate as he was still busy doing the play by play.
I arrived at the United Terminal but could find no trace of United. It appeared to be just a Jet Blue terminal. But there was in fact a small United ticket counter. I then proceeded to security. Our little conveyor belt line came to a complete halt for 30 minutes because of an absence of plastic luggage bins, causing a meeting of high level TSA employees about what to do about the problem. After much deliberation and apparent debate, it became apparent that the problem could be fixed if the luggage bins are actually taken from the "after screening area" and brought back to the start of the conveyor belt.
After clearing security, I went to my gate and waited for about an hour. I then noticed it was a Jet Blue gate. Was the original US Airways flight, which had become a United flight, now a Jet Blue flight? It seemed possible. But no, my final destination was not Ft. Lauderdale and I should have been at gate 20, not 26. While the numbers were close, the gates were not. One half mile later, I arrived at the right gate and George was right behind me, wondering why I was still so anxious.
So there has already been adventure and unexpected events and we are off to a good start. There is confusion and some disagreement on the route we should take, but I own the GPS and the map.
- Eric
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Location:Quality Inn, Aurora, CO