5/21/14

Wilkerson Pass

At the end of the day, a storm moves in suddenly, we’re in the middle of a terrific hailstorm.

Ken opens the hall door and hail comes pouring into the building and rolling down the hall. It strips the fresh green leaves from the trees. Several people gather at the door to watch the carnage unfold.

“My motorcycle’s out there,” I whined. “This sucks.”

It’s pouring and hailing at the same time now. The hailstones form ice dams in the gutters and, choked with water and dammed with ice, the gutters fail and start pouring water down the sides of the buildings at odd intervals.

“Y’all have the most fucked up weather of any place I’ve ever seen. And I’ve lived in Colorado for 20 years….this is completely whacked.”

When the storm passes, we go outside in the parking lot to inspect the vehicles. There’s no damage somehow – I have no clue how. It’s a miracle.

“My bike is clean now!” I beamed.

Ken leaves and I go back inside to wind things down for the day. Like…believe you fucking me I’m not working late any more. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fuck you, I’m out of here.

The sad truth is that people will treat you as bad as you allow them to.

At the end of the day, Jill comes into my office and makes an unexpected apology of sorts. I don’t think she ever said she was sorry, per se, but she allowed as how no person should be treated as poorly as she had been treating me – regardless of how inept and/or incompetent I might be. That was my take on it, anyhow. At the end of it, she extended me her hand, and we shook awkwardly. Imagine a peace treaty signed between the Indians and the early Americans. It felt something like that. Awkward. Surreal. Uncertain.

11 Mile Reservoir

At 5:00, I’m out the door. Like…fuck staying late to help you cocksuckers out. We’re done with that bullshit. It’s 5:00? Then I’m going for a LONG fucking ride.

I leave work and I’m fit to be tied. My mind is an endless loop, replaying the events that unfolded at work today. I finally had enough and I told them so.

Headed west on 24, all of the cars are covered in shredded leaves from the sudden hailstorm down the hill.

I need the mountains. They’re like my solace. My salvation. Every time I get up past Woodland Park and see Pike’s Peak, all of the troubles from work just melt away.

Now, I keep going west this time on Highway 24…past Divide…past Florrisant…now, a sign for 11 Mile Reservoir.

Bud always talked about 11 Mile and Spinney, and that’s my destination, really, if I have one. I want to see 11 Mile Reservoir. It’s hard to imagine why he used to come down here. Like, it’s a long drive for a fishing trip.

There’s all sorts of signs that say you have to pay at the honor box to get your day pass for tha park, but I’m not feeling overly generous today, so I don’t pay, of course.

Now, I’m driving through the park, heading roughly west. into the sun, which is pinned neatly behind a massive thunderhead.

I just keep driving. Not really sure where I am. Some roads branch off, to the right, roughly headed north. But I sort of just stay the course, following the lake roughly to the west.

Now, the road turns to dirt, and I’m not crazy about riding on dirt roads, but I’m not turning back, so now I’m driving down a dirt road.

Crossing cattle gaps is a sign that the ride is about to get more interesting, and now I’m dodging cows. Lots of cows, calfs, and bulls. Also, antelope, if you can believe it. And elk. And of course, deer. So, yeah…

I have no clue where I am. I check my iPhone, but there’s only “extended” coverage, and my maps aren’t loading for shit, so I just keep driving. And, understand – getting lost is part of the adventure. I’m OK with being a little lost.

FInally, after about 10 miles or so, signs of civilization. And, this is good. This is fun. Being way out in the middle of nowhere makes you happy to see buildings again.

Everything can only truly be appreciated when compared to its polar opposite.

As it turns out, I’m in Hartsel. I pull into a little cafe for a bite to eat.

It occurs to me that the world is not real.

But I really don’t think that the world exists. I think that we create the world as much as we witness it.

I’m sitting in a little cafe in Hartsel, Colorado not because I planned on coming here, but more because I planned on avoiding doing nothing.

Limited light. Limited warm weather. Limited days to ride. This all encourages me to ride every day. Because I’m only on this project for a little bit longer, I push myself to ride every day, instead of just going home and watching Netflix.

So, now, it seems like I’m sort of pushing the world past my eyes for me to see and enjoy. Taking a much more active role in my life. So now, it seems to me that I’m creating my own reality. Which is fun, if things work out. If I hit a deer, maybe not so much fun.

“Where you heading from here?” the waitress wants to know.

“Back to Colorado Springs,” I reply. “I’ve got to get across Ute Pass before I freeze to death. It’s getting cold.”

“Ute Pass? Where’s that?” she asks. There’s a sign that I’ve driven too far today. I’m about 100 miles into the trip at this point.

“You’ve got to cross Wilkerson Pass first…” she explains.

“I’ve never even heard of it,” I explain.

Finally, I hit the road back. It’s freezing cold, but the ride back is spectacular. Wilkerson Pass is a dream. Such a beautifl drive. How have I lived in this state for 20 years and never driven this road?

Eventually, I roll back down into the Springs and it’s warm enough in Manitou Springs that I don’t feel like I’ll die. Now, to crash, and get up and do it again tomorrow.