Slower Traffic Keep Right

When we got to Boulder, CO, I went to bed on the futon floor mattress and Rob rode Dodger downtown to visit with Chris (the owner of the fine futon floor mattress) at the bar he works at. On the bike ride home at 2am, Rob was chased by a hippy with dreads that thought he might challenge a sled dog to a foot race. Dodger triumphed.

We didn’t stay in Boulder long, but we did have some time to catch up with Chris, shower, and eat bagels and coffee with the crowd not hardest-hit by Saturday boozing (like red-headed, long-braid sporting man wearing skullcap over bald spot, staring into great beyond and grinning like a fiend). 

The place had character for sure. What little I saw, I liked. 

The drive through the mountains sounded so cool. I-70 (which is the Vail Pass through the Rockies) takes you past all the big ski areas (Loveland, Breckenridge, Vail of course, and byways to Steamboat and Aspen). Being from the flattest lands, I’m always up for some topography. 

Vail Pass

Unfortunately, being from flat Florida should have disqualified me from legal use of these roads. I wish I had photos of the mind-blowing portions, but I was too busy maintaining existence. 

We pretty much kept to the right, unless we had to pass a semi with smoking brakes going 20mph. 

I found myself flying up and down 150 miles of the scariest roadway I’ve ever been on. Ever. 

An 8% grade doesn’t sound terrible, but it is. It is so terrible. It’s like being on a roller coaster ride, but the consequence of shutting your eyes is death and one’s natural inclination to hit the brakes might just cause a massive pile-up. 

The uphill in small, loaded cars was also fun. And by fun, I mean we were maxing at 40mph (warning lights flashing) and trying not to blow our engines up. 

Or get steamrolled by a semi.

But oh, It was beautiful! I just dared not admire it for long, lest a 90-degree turn pop up out of nowhere while I’m going 60 and downhill. 

Before we consider whether it was worth it,
I will say that the scenery was fantastic.

If you happen to be in a semi with failed brakes, you are instructed to remain on I-70 (with me). You will fly free, like a majestic steel death eagle, until you hit a Runaway Truck Ramp. The idea is that the gravel off-ramps will slow a truck to a speed where it is “ideal” to crash. However, when these ramps are covered in snow they look like giant ski jumps which I can't imagine being conducive to slowing a vehicle down.

God bless these trucking madmen. 

There was snow on the ramps, but none on the road. In fact, it was downright warm. The road was built with turnoffs every 5 miles or so for motorists to put on tire chains, a required fact of life through the pass in inclement weather (if it even remains open at all).

We lucked out. If there had been even one measly snowflake, one speck of rainwater, I would have been somewhere other than the Vail Pass (probably until June). Sorry Rob.

Amtrak is the only way I will enter this pass again. I hear it's a beautiful trip through the canyons.  

Tunnel travel

Warp speed! Which is how I felt 90% of the time. 

We survived our 5-hour trip and landed safely in Grand Junction, CO (which is essentially in the desert- a flat and glorious place to drive through after Vail Pass white-knuckle sadness). Marissa, Rob’s sister, lives in town and is about to finish her freshman year at Colorado Mesa University. We met up with her at Starbucks, bought some obligatory coffee to go with our free internet usage, and tracked down a local KOA campground to post up at.

Oh, and how was Rob through all this? Fine. Just another day in the Vail Pass. He's done it before (in snow, no less) and definitely made me more at ease (despite the tone of the above entry). 

Tonight, we would sleep on the ground. Rob forgot his sleeping pad and had to make a nest out of hairy Dodger blankets, but we both slept like rocks. 

It had been a long day. 

Rob wearing Dodger out before bed. Dodger slept
peacefully through the Vail Pass. Damn him.