The trail through Colorado took us through the ski resort area around Breckenridge and Silverthorne, where we gatecrashed a fourth of July party at the Riverside Lodge Hostel. For the small price of watching the very cheesy July 4 celebrations on wide screen TV, we scored free beer and wine and a sensational barbecue dinner. That morning's patriotic breakfast at the "Historic Hand Hotel" in Fairplay was sumptuous too, which set us up for the climb over the Hoosier Pass.
You might remember my comments about the seamless integration of religion and patriotism in Virginia and Kentucky. Well, here in Colorado there seems to be a seamless integration of religion and fast food too.
At Hot Sulphur Springs we free - camped by the Colorado River, and took an invigorating (ie: freezing) dip before spending a pleasant evening by a campfire with a six- pack of Newcastle Brown. We declined the pleasure of bathing in the springs themselves because of the $18.00 charge for doing so. You can buy a lot of Newcastle Brown for $18:00. The next day was to be both difficult and eventful.
My criminal career continues.
Yes; it's true: I've had another run-in with the law. No doubt you'll remember, fondly, Officer Bumfluff of Eureka, Kansas. Well, I've discovered that he has a close cousin: Officer Smugsmirk of the Colorado State Police.
My version of events.
A couple of miles out of Hot Sulphur Springs, we were crossing a bridge over the railway (railroad), riding in the roadway rather than on the shoulder because of a scattering of debris, including broken glass, at the road's edge,when a large, fast- moving Dodge pickup roared past us, horn blaring. We didn't think much of this - it was the 147th such incident since Virginia. Just another impatient driver outraged that cyclists should presume to be on the road at all, much less require him to actually slow down.
A mile up the road, the pickup was stopped by the roadside. We rode by, half expecting a roadrage outburst from the driver, but he was sitting, immobile, in his cab - talking on his mobile phone. A mile further on, we were pulled over by a police patrol car, lights flashing and siren whooping. It was followed by the Dodge pickup. What followed is best conveyed via Officer Smugsmirk's official report, obtained surreptitiously through channels only known to members of the criminal class like myself.
Incident Report. July 6th. 900 hrs.
I received a telephone call from Citizen Blunderbuss concerning the criminal obstruction of his Dodge Ram 4500 Double Overhead Cam Fuel Injected Supercharged Diesel Pickup by a pair of bicycle-riding vagrant types on State Route (rowt) 126. I proceeded at speed to the scene and intercepted the suspects who were apparently attempting to flee the scene of the crime by proceeding at approximately 10 miles per hour in a westerly direction.
Alternately calming Citizen Blunderbuss in his righteous rage and interrogating the suspects, I informed the latter that I would issue a citation for dangerous and negligent riding which they could defend, if they wished, in court.
Both suspects were aliens. One, apparently an Australian, expressed disbelief that I would issue a citation based on the unsupported accusation of one person with no supporting evidence or witnesses. I assured the suspect that I would indeed do so - especially if he continued to ask impertinent questions. The second suspect, apparently of British nationality, offered to apologise to Citizen Blunderbuss if he would drop the complaint, and made attempts to calm down his partner in crime who was muttering about counter accusations and natural justice or some such foreign nonsense.
I adopted the standard police chastisement stance - hands on hips, head inclined slightly to one side and angled to ensure the opacity of police-issue mirror sunglasses, and delivered an extended lecture concerning the numerous dismembered cyclists I had retrieved from this very highway, and the likelihood that I would be retrieving their body parts from said highway if they persisted in riding irresponsibly. I then invited Citizen Blunderbuss to accept their humble apologies and deliver his own chastisement.
The suspects, suitably humble and apologetic, if not downright abject, were subsequently allowed to proceed.
Report ends: 1030 hours.
Me again.
Yes; the whole sorry episode took an hour and a half. In my view though, everyone was a winner: Citizen Blunderbuss satisfied his righteous indignation; Officer Smugsmirk got his boots thoroughly licked; and Ryan and I got priceless blog material.
The remainder of July 6th was equally trying. After detouring off-route (rowt) for supplies to Granby, we took a wrong turn and rode an unnecessary 8 miles, then battled headwinds for the rest of what became an 80 mile day. Slogging across the Arapaho National Wildlife Refuge, a vast, high-altitude wetland of lakes and moorland fenced in by snow-capped mountains, we started to succumb to exhaustion. The headwind was relentless. The emblem of the ANWR is a wild duck in flight, but a more appropriate one would be a swarm of mosquitoes devouring a helpless human. We couldn't even stop for a rest or a drink without being savaged. All we could do was press on.
As we breasted the final hill and saw the town of Walden spread out on the plain below, my companion, Ryan, uttered that quaint and lyrical Geordie expression: "Thank fuck for that!"
No comments:
Post a Comment