Kansas and Colorado

Oh, dear. Worse than dropping Rosie in the mud, my computer crashed. I tried to restore it and lost all my previous Outlook files. Plus, all Microsoft Office products, Word, etc. Had to purchase all again because I didn’t have the key code from former purchase. If some of you responded to an Outlook message from jimstarknavy@hotmail.com , and I didn’t reply, I’m afraid it’s gone now. I still have access to my blog files, so will continue to add updates, but will notify you about those updates using my new version of Word and sending via AOL.

On day-two, I was almost across the state of Kansas. To paraphrase Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. “Oh, Toto, can you believe we’re STILL in Kansas.” Leaving Missouri, I set St Frances, on the western border of Kansas in my GPS and then spent the entire day watching 350 miles slowly, oh so slowly pass. I kept thinking about my youngest son, Brian, who ran across the United States. I can often see ten miles down the road but would get impatient when it took so long to cover that distance at 70 mph. Just imagine if it took more than an hour and that was just one hour in nine long months of hours. Brian, how did you do it?

The first half of yesterday’s crossing of Missouri and half of today’s travel across Kansas was stressful. Fog. Thick, pea soup, 100-yard visibility fog. You didn’t dare pass another car because you couldn’t see the headlights of on-coming traffic until they were just seconds from you. My concern was some other idiot coming at me trying to pass. I slowed to under 40 mph and kept my eyes peeled for four headlights, side-by-side, heading my way. Under 40 mph, I figured I had enough time to head for the ditch.

About 12:30 each day, the temps finally got a few degrees above the dew point and the fog began to lift. The good news was it was 30 degrees cooler than the first day with its 95-degree temps. The comfort range on a motorcycle is narrow. Below 70 you really need a jacket and even start to think about gloves. Above 85 the sun does a roasting number on bare skin. Long sleeves are a must. My hands, nose and cheeks have now turned a lovely shade of cordovan leather reddish-brown.

I enjoy the tenting experience, but for one night on the road, the setting up and breaking down of the tent in the morning takes a lot of time. After that first night in the thunder storm in Hannibal, MO, I had to pack up the wet tent the next morning. That meant the next night I needed to find a motel so I could dry out the ground pad, tent and fly.

Here in Goodland, Kansas, I found a KOA campground that had cabins to rent. They’re primitive, no toilet, or running water. You sleep on beds in your sleeping bag, but they have electricity and they are airconditioned. Each have lovely little porches with a swing. Not having to set up the tent is nice. I cooked my freeze-dried dinner on the porch and quietly crashed my computer. So who needs perfect.
Tomorrow, it’s across Colorado. I love Colorado.

Next day:
Before heading off, I put Fruita, CO, a town just ten miles shy of the Utah state line and was shocked to see it was 455 miles away. That makes Colorado even wider than Kansas. I got an early start. The east half of Colorado is not so varied, just an extension of Missiouri and Kansas crop fields. Skies were overcast, temps were cool, so wearing my motorcycle jacket made for a comfortable ride. About 30-miles east of Denver the Rockies came into view. From Denver on, it’s one visual, mind blowing, spectacular experience. I’ve witnessed it before but I’m always stunned by the incredible beauty.

Contrary to my pledge to avoid interstates, I-70 across Colorado is a scenic ride and gives you 75-mph speed limits with no cross roads to slow your progress. I had been alarmed at my slow progress to date. As a younger fellow, I could ride 500 or 600 miles in a day without a problem. Now 300 miles seemed to be my limit. I wasn’t going to have much time in Utah at that rate. So, I’m taking I-70 to see how it goes.

Traffic in Denver and a few other busy spots slows you down, but the views are breathtaking. From Denver on west the highway follows a canyon with towering walls on either side and a white-water river paralleling its roadway course. Most of the speed limits are 75, except in tight, twisty regions. After Denver, I passed by the famous ski areas of Dillion, Silverhome, Copper Mountain and Vail. Parking lots around their hotels and resorts were full, suggesting I would not get a room there without an advance reservation. Just past Vail I enter a section of I-70 called Glenn Canyon. The twists and turns dropped the speed limit to 50. What a sight it was. I-70 was constructed on elevated roadways hanging from the narrow canyon walls. I-70 west overhung I-70 east just below it. The opposite canyon wall had railroad tracks. From the highway, 200 feet of shear canyon walls loomed above me. What an awesome sight.

Loveland pass, just west of Denver is above 10,000 feet. Temps were in the lower 60s and I bundled up good. Back toward sea level, the temperature worked their way back toward the 90s and clothing was shed.

By 5:30 that afternoon I had cover 478 miles. Not bad for an old guy. Using my GPS to search campgrounds, I found another KOA with cabins just a few miles shy of the Utah state line in Grand Junction, CO. Good day of travel, now to kick off these boots, have a toddy for the body, and get ready for Utah tomorrow.