Route 66 went from East to West and has been mostly demolished and replaced with a not very interesting Interstate highway. It wasn't our route anyway, having arrived in the West, and we wanted to see some more scenery.
As we are doing 'Not Route 66', heading East for that matter was OK.
So we started the morning in the desert at Bluff next to Mexican Hat; we then lunched in the green splendour of Telluride, an uber ski station in its summer guise. It was a magnificent high speed ride through the forests and mountain passes. Lizard Head Pass took us to 3,124m and all in the sunshine. Plenty of leaf-peeping opportunities and not too many leaf-peepers. All within the speed limits, Officer Dibble, and this is a Harley so it couldn't possibly be going that fast. All bikes in Western America are Harleys by the way, not the remotest sense of exotic here. The previous days the scenery had all been about the different shapes and shades of red rock. Now we had an abundance of colours. Stunning.
Leaving Telluride was made more difficult by a herd of elks wanting to be photographed and Francoise refusing to heed Deputy Sheriff Dibbles's polite request for us to move on and not remain stationary at the side of the road. She could not hear the Deputy because of her helmet, an impediment soon overcome when the Officer used his load-hailer to alert us to the imminent possibility of a road-side fine if we did not get a move on.
We continued to Gunnison with a slight detour to the quaint Alpinesque town of Ouray. Gunnison, usually a very sleepy little town, was full.ΓΏ No room at the Inns; Saturday Night must be all right for Leaf-peepers. Fourth time lucky though and we had somewhere to sleep.
Next day wasn't a big day so 'we' decided we could have a lie-in. The Innkeeper reiterated the mantra of heading East. Monarch Pass was a great run and took us to 3,445m of altitude and highlighted the need for warmer clothing. We had outrun the rain and the words of the Innkeeper faded away. So we stopped for a hot chocolate at the cafe at the top celebrating the Continental divide, this little raindrop will flow to the Pacific and that one to the Atlantic. "Snow on Wednesday", such were the words of the lady serving chocolate fudge to us.
Soon after we donned our waterproofs again as the rain had caught us up and then we gained a head.
Onwards into nowhere and lunch. The cafe door blew open and the rain came lashing down rather seriously. The rain had now outrun us. Other bikers passed as we watched out of the window. They could not sacrifice their cool with helmets and bright yellow waterproofs. So their cool became cold with lots of wet. We passed them later and although still with cigarettes in mouth, they looked a bit bedraggled. Eye contact was not made.
We have now reached Monument, South of Denver in Colorado, staying with our trans-China biking chum, Jim and his wife. It is a truly wonderful place with serious wildlife outside the window and views of the mountains from every corner of the house.
Half way across America in some way or another, at least a thousand miles to any coast and this our last leg. Where has it all gone?
Half way across America in some way or another, at least a thousand miles to any coast and this our last leg. Where has it all gone?
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