Of course, no holiday is perfect. And so ladies and gentlemen, I give you… the not-so highlights:
Rocky Mountain National Park
Only included here due to my near death experience of having to cross a snow-field. Said snow-field was a real wow to look at from afar. Picture perfect with hikers photogenically dotted against the snow white backdrop.
Um, not so scenic when we actually got there.
The thin sliver of packed down snow that was supposedly the path across was way narrower than it should be (in my opinion). My fear of falling turned me into a hunchback as I painfully inched myself across, trying to keep my center of gravity low.
With the occasional mistaken glance down at the immense steep snow bank below and my heart in my mouth, I spent the endless time crossing wondering how they could potentially get a helicopter in to rescue me if I fell or if they would just leave my dead body down there, like they do on Everest. Luckily I didn’t have to find out.
Those four beers on the right… mine, all mine!
Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park
Bit harsh to put this in the not so highlights section. But just to set expectations, this is no Grand Canyon. The thing with canyons is that it’s a damn long way from one rim to the other. Which means a minimum 6 hour drive to the other side if you picked the wrong side. On a driving day-off day, no thanks. Instead, we made the best of it with a couple of short walks and a bit of fishing. At which point Darren was reminded why it’s called fishing, not catching (i.e. no fish).
The Laundromat
You don’t spend three weeks on the road without going through virtually every item of clothing you brought with you. I was hoping for one of those service washes but sh!t out of luck. Nope: one of those coin operated places where you have to attend to all your own washing and drying needs. So I whiled away a few hours of the holiday watching our clothes spin round in a circle. Hey, at least they had wifi!
no lost socks for me!
Boondocking
Finding the best boondocking spot isn’t always easy. It generally involves me being kicked out of the truck to go walk ahead and check, amongst other things, the state of the road and the options for turning around. Fine when all is well and good. Not so fine when the weather turns into a storm of biblical proportions and I still get chucked out to the elements.
When we’d set off earlier in the day, the sky was blue with a balmy temperature in the 80s. Not any more. I gave Darren a ‘you cannot be serious’ look and played for time, pointing out that my jacket was in the Basecamp and I couldn’t possibly go outside in a t-shirt. Darren produced my insubstantial cheap hoody from the back seat, raised his eyebrow and unsympathetically growled “Off you go”. Bottom lip out, I shrugged on my hoody, held onto the door tightly so it didn’t blow off in the wind and forged ahead to do my duty.
Note to self: hail the size of rabbit droppings hurts.
I was actually relieved when the hail turned to rain. But rain the size of rabbit droppings gets you very wet very quickly.
When we woke up the next day, there was frost on the ground!
(and back to blue sky)
Mountain biking
I struggled around my first ‘beginner’s loop’ in Fruita. Not fast or clever – I could have trail run it faster. But I made it round in one piece. And was quite proud of myself to boot. The same could not be said for my next attempt. The ‘Trust Loop’ near Darongo. Sigh.
After a mile of negotiating my way around a rather nice suitable course (minimal obstacles, tricks and ups & downs), I clocked a steep incline up ahead and rapidly changed down gears to give it a bit of oomph. Unfortunately not enough oomph to get me up. Realizing I wasn’t going to make it, I started to put my foot down, at the same time realizing I was on an adverse camber, for which there was no way my little short legs could possibly over-compensate. Game over.
It’s a long way to fall from a bike. I saw the world whizz past me at odd angles and then “dufffff”. Upside down in a bush. Me, the bike and the bush became one. (I was still finding bits of sagebrush in nooks and crannies days later). Darren came rushing back to extricate me when he heard my yelp. Sorry no photos of me in my predicament (even though Darren DID ask if he could get a quick snap. Quite frankly, I wasn’t in the mood).
You remember that Fear of Falling thing I have? Well it’s not one of those things that gets better by facing your fear. However… this was a one way loop, and there was little option other than to carry on.
Confidence wrecked and one gear out of action from the first knock, I got little more than half a mile further before repeating another spectacular launch from the bike. Another shriek, another fall, another bush. I’m sorry but I’m just not cut out for this. A mountain biker I am not. A week later my bruises still make me look like a domestic abuse victim. Bikes are for bike paths and that’s the way it’ll be for now, thank you very much.
