Monday, September 1, 2014 (Labor Day holiday)
The Loneliest Road

First thing this morning, Robin called the office of the cog train to Pike’s Peak and, unfortunately, learned that they were totally booked for this holiday; however, we were able to make a reservation for tomorrow. Hmm. We really wanted to head north tomorrow and get into the wilderness away from traffic and red lights. On the other hand, we didn’t want to miss the cog rail train experience, so we rearranged our itinerary, such as it was. That left us with the question of what to do for the day.
I had seen some literature about Seven Falls, which looked beautiful and interesting. We followed signs to Seven Falls and, when we arrived, discovered that the site was closed for renovations. I wonder how one closes and renovates seven waterfalls and why.

Next, we took off down I-25 South to Pueblo ("Pittsburgh of the West" — they made iron and steel(?) there) and then west to Ca̴̴̴ῇon City—just wandering around on US 50, the loneliest road. Robin knew that the Arkansas River was down that way, and he wanted to see it. According to him, that river, at one time, was the border between the U.S. and Mexico.
We drove for miles through prairie land bordered by mountains. We saw barbed wire fences and an occasional barn, but no animals. No people. Few other cars.

Eventually we discovered a clear, whitewater stream flowing through the plains, and there she was—the Arkansas River! A very pretty little river and hard to believe that it had ever been this country’s border. I expected something more difficult to cross; however, Robin was pleased to visit pre-1845 Mexico, so cross we did!

We had also read about a place called Royal Gorge that had a suspension bridge, said to be the highest in the world; its picture looked pretty impressive. We found the sign for the turnoff. We were absolutely the only car heading toward this gorge up a long, windy road with nothing but scrub pine and more yellow flowers growing along the side.  These flowers look like a cross between sunflowers and black-eyed Susans--they're spindly and about 3-4 feet tall; the flowers are smaller and more delicate than sunflowers, but bigger than black-eyed Susans, and they are everywhere, especially, lining the roadways.

 

When we arrived at the Royal Gorge, we learned that the bridge was closed. Just as well—it looked precarious

and, if it had been open, the opportunity to cross it would have cost $20! We saw about four rangers with guns guarding the place.  On our way back on that desolate road, I spotted this lone tree that had burned, standing amidst the sunflowers.

I was looking forward to having a pleasant dinner and an early evening. Robin was looking forward to more exploring. He already had the route plotted out in his head – a short ride up the back road to Cripple Creek. (“Gone up Cripple Creek, gone on a run, gone up Cripple Creek, have a little fun”—a tune I learned to play on the kazoo years ago). We started up this road at dusk; it was a lot longer than Robin said he thought it was. Soon it was dark and very scary traveling over about 60(!) curvy miles of mountainous road with an occasional cow crossing the road and mule deer grazing along the shoulders, such as they were.

By the time we arrived in Cripple Creek, which is an old gold mining town, and now turned to gaming and casinos, I was fading fast. I soon understood why I felt so exhausted. Robin said I was just grumpy; however, we saw a sign that read, “Cripple Creek, Elevation 9,424 ft.” That was the highest altitude we had ever experienced and probably why I was feeling so crummy and, yes, grumpy—along with white-knuckled curves, no dinner, and nine hours in the car. What I learned later is that our nocturnal travels had taken us over and around parts of Pike’s Peak. I didn’t intend to get there that way!