Colorado Day Five

A brilliant blue sky and chilly air greeted us as we left the hotel and boarded the bus at 7:00 this morning.  It was our Pike’s Peak day. Since the Cog Train is out of commission we were shuttled up by bus. Much smaller buses than the one we are traveling on.  Our tour guide turned out to be from the same town as Floyd and has the same last name as well.  It’s amazing how often we run into people from our home turf when we are halfway across the country. 

Our first sighting of interest this morning was a septic truck that pulled up alongside the bus at a stop light.  “Yesterday’s Meals On Wheels” was emblazoned on the tank.

Tom turned out to be a great guide and talked all the way to the top of the mountain, except for a particularly precarious turn or two, when even he fell silent.  With nary a guard rail in sight, the sheer drop-offs would have been the death of us all had he not been paying attention.  And there are 155 turns, with a number of switchbacks where we almost met ourselves coming around. As our elevation increased he kept reminding us to drink water and let him know if we are needing help breathing since he carries O2 tanks at all times.

About half way to the top Tom pulled into a rest area for photo ops and other needs.  We found a wood carving caricature of Big Foot which led to a story from one of our group, a strong believer in the mythical creature's existence. And who am I to say different? Leroy told us about his own personal sighting many years ago.  A massive hairy shadow that left behind 18 inch foot prints, each step spanning six feet.  He said the creature left behind a strong noxious smell as it disappeared into think underbrush where even the local law enforcement, turning out in full force, was unable to find it anywhere. 

The top of Pike’s Peak is 14,114 feet above sea level and it definitely made me feel a little “off.”  To put it in perspective though, Mt Everest stands at 29,029 feet elevation. Tom encouraged us to try some of the donuts available for sale up top.  He said they aren’t all that good but that it had taken quite some efforts to figure out how to get the dough to rise at that elevation. He claimed that they would explode into crumbs if we brought them down the mountain.  I’m not entirely sure whether or not he was serious.

Several of the others fared worse than I did.  Paul’s face was beet red and he sat in the café the whole time looking anxious.  He was a little annoyed with me for, as he put it, “bee-bopping around outside like nothing was wrong!”  He was afraid he was approaching death’s door but I assured him he would have had to get quite a bit sicker to qualify for entry.  While I enjoyed walking around the outside, I didn’t push my luck by getting too close to the edge and I was glad for the cold air stimulating what little oxygen was available to move through my system.

I thought of my little grandsons and felt relieved they were not along.  With no guard rails or fences whatsoever, I would have needed to leash them all up in order to keep them safe.  Or maybe in order to keep myself from freaking out.  On our way back down we stopped at The Bottomless Pit, a three thousand foot sheer drop off.  Tom told us he never stops at that spot if there are any teenagers on the bus because, well, we all know how that could go.

The mountain was named after Zebulon Pike although the first person to reach its summit was Edwin James.  If you want to know all the drama behind those facts, there’s Google. We could still see the faint wagon ruts from pioneers who lugged their possessions over these rock-strewn and harrowing mountain ranges.  Tom said the women walked alongside while the men steered the wagons over, around, and through what looked to me virtually impassable places.  I would have walked too, I think. What courage!  Or was it insanity?!  Maybe a little of both.

Anna Mae had cautioned us to drink a lot of water prior to reaching the summit and we were all gamely trying to follow her advice.  However when one drinks a lot one must visit the outhouse a lot as well.  She told us that we will lose a pint of water on this tour.  She underestimated, I think.  I was dizzily walking around outside the mountaintop gift shop when I muttered to the person behind me that I am going to have to go to the bathroom again!  I assumed it was someone from our bus but woe is me, it was a total stranger.  He hustled around me and away, and we avoided eye contact.  I stifled the hysterical laughter that was trying to escape.

After returning to 7,000 feet, we transferred back to our bus and left for lunch in Old Colorado City, a quaint collection of shops, bistros, and such.  We ate with Dave and Irene at The Lazy Elephant, an especially charming coffee shop and café.  At first Paul, whose face had lost its unhealthy looking hue but was still not looking very well, said he didn’t want to eat there because nothing sounded good.  The proprietress heard him and we explained he had just come off the mountain and wasn’t feeling too chipper.  Well, that’s all she needed to hear.  She took him firmly in hand and told him what he needed to eat.  I think her mothering did more good than the food because in no time he was almost himself again.  I felt a tiny bit ashamed at how unsympathetic I had been.   A very tiny bit.  But I was glad to have him back to almost normal again.

We stopped at Focus on the Family for an hour and I took a lovely nap while the others watched a video about the organization.  At least I assume that’s what it was about.  I put my head on Paul’s shoulder and heard none of it until he woke me up to go. Focus on the Family does just that: they have created a fun place for kids and adults and our children would have loved it when they were younger.  A three-story slide and an elevator that looks like the time machine from Whit’s End would have fascinated them. 

For supper we went to Rudy’s BBQ. Fortunately one does not have to excel at spelling in order to be a great cook. Brisket, red-skinned potatoes, creamed corn, coleslaw, and peach cobbler, and another pound or two added to my increasingly rotund figure.  I’m trying to remember that a vacation resulting in weight loss is probably not a very good one.  The temptation to buy some “buffet pants” as Irene calls them, is lurking though.