Day 15, Boulder

Dawn arrived in Canon City, on first look the sky was clear.  How easy to mistake that uniform-ness of an overcast rain sky for a nice day.  Little Joe asked to sleep out under the stars.  He gets what he wants.  It rained all night.  Ever smell a wet monkey?  I toweled him down as I  pondered the current situation.  It's raining.  That kind of Oregon not pouring, not drizzle, but - - - rain.  Shouldn't deter an Oregon boy.  But after a week of desert driving, it was, well, a change.  For two days they were saying, all over Colorado, it's a drought year.  Yeah, thanks, have some rain.

On the list today was a trip to Bishop's Castle.  It was eighty miles out of the way, just fine on a normal day, not so fine in an open air rain catcher chariot.  So we forgo it.  I've been there twice before, a stunning tribute to what one man and a couple of sons, and forty years of determination can do.  The structure towers 160 feet above the terrain, and is a masterpiece work of stone and iron, not quite at the level of Neuschwanstein, which I have had the privilege to visit, but a darn good runner up.  Jim Bishop is a crusty and very direct guy, I've talked with him while he was mixing mortar in a wheelbarrow.  But he had this vision decades ago and has never let go of it.  He's building a castle, despite government agencies attempts over the past decades to put him out of business.  I do admire spirit, imagination and determination.  This castle of stone and iron sports an enormous ballroom, stained glass befitting a castle, parapets, winding stone staircases, you name it.  The dragon, when Jim puts on a show, blows flame from a hot air balloon burner, to light the night sky.  The massive fireplace in the ballroom is vented through the dragon's nostrils, so smoke coming from a dragon ready to make a statement, is quite often evident.

Want to hear about the freeway ride to Boulder?  Well, this is a document to help me remember this trip, so you can skip over it, but....

the trip from Canon City was two and a half hours of white knuckle (my violin teacher's words came to mind every five minutes - relax, relax, relax - you have no arms.  Sixty miles an hour in three lanes of high speed interstate traffic, with rain in your face, glasses wanting to steam up (excitement, not fear) is not for the faint of heart.  There should be a merit badge for old guys with a suicidal impulse.  Add to the rain on glasses visibility restriction, mist swirled up by all the cars, exaggerated very four minutes by a passing semi and you have - tension.  But, as the violin teacher admonishes, relax, you must do that, and I did, every five minutes,  and one basically lives for the next moment.  The sign says 48 miles to Denver.  48 minutes.  Relax, concentrate on the white lines and the specter of a car in front of you.  Another five minutes have passed.  It is possible we might survive this part of the journey.  And every couple of minutes I glance in the mirrors, and Dick is rock solid, three lights, never wavering in position fifty feet behind me.  Way to go, Dick.

Fortunately the rain cleared just as we entered the Denver freeway system.  Having memorized the route, not wanting to trust the GPS, being able to read it, or the occasional poor electrical connection, the exits fell into place like dominoes.  We did arrive as planned at a pre-programmed motel.  Wet, very wet, cold, very cold,  happy, very happy.  High speed freeway driving in busy traffic in the rain has finally been checked off my bucket list.

Tomorrow we'll skip the near freezing forecast over Rocky Mountain National Park at Trail Ridge and take a sunny ride up through Cheyenne and Laramie on the way to Ogden.  There will be more blog posts, although not as exciting and colorful as what has transpired so far.  On the other hand, who knows.

Thanks to you who have followed along to date, and commented.  There's a warm feeling about getting a 'letter from home' and I'll be more diligent now about commenting on other friends travels.  I've reached the Northeast corner of the box of this trip.  From here on every mile is closer to home.  It's been a wonderful trip, not finished yet.