{"id":124,"date":"2009-06-30T20:22:00","date_gmt":"2009-07-01T00:22:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.Sarcastic-Travels.com\/?p=124"},"modified":"2009-06-30T20:22:00","modified_gmt":"2009-07-01T00:22:00","slug":"124-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sarcastic-travels.com\/124-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Bridging Colorado While Running the Continental Divide"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
Our most recent adventure took us into Denver, Colorado on a fine Thursday morning. The journey itself was completely uneventful aside from noting that the summer travel season has decidedly arrived, a fact readily obvious at the Atlanta airport with its corridors packed with obviously seasonal travelers who are more or less lost in an airport, carrying too many bags and too many children to reflect anything other than rank amateur status. Mr. H and I can pack for 5 days in only a carry on apiece and there is real joy in blowing past the huddled masses at baggage claim on our way to our car and freedom from the madness. Every plane we have been on has been packed to the gills, and this was no exception, to the point that while the wonks on TV, radio, and in print continue to claim that the sky is falling and travel is down, it seems to us that travel is anything but down, or at the least, that the airlines reduced capacity plans are working all too well.<\/p>\n
[set_id=72157620683690274]<\/p>\n
\nOf more than passing entertainment to T on landing was to watch the in-flight information system that lists such fascinating facts as one’s altitude, location, wind speed, etc during flight. Being flat-landers who live at 682 feet above sea level and took off from 1,026 feet, landing in Denver was a new experience with the altimeter still reading 5,281 feet once we were actually on the ground. Having been several hundred feet below sea level in Death Valley in April, this trip several months later would seek to place T at some of the highs of the North American continent to compensate for the lows of April. It strikes me as ironic that low elevations bring high temperatures and high elevations bring low temperatures, but of course this is what is called an inverse proportional relationship.<\/p>\n
\nAfter landing, we took out across the relatively new toll road that skirts the north of Denver through what are still agricultural prairies, although this is rapidly changing, and we were immediately struck by the physical beauty of the location of Denver Metro, with the snow capped background of the Front Range looming to the west with the unbroken expanses of grassland tumbling down to the Mississippi at least a thousand miles away to the east. Our primary destination was Broomfield, a town that must have been an agricultural blip on the map even 20 years ago, that today is a highly upscale suburban community on the northwest side of Denver. Denver struck me at least as a very new city, or at least one that is consistently re-inventing itself, investing in itself, rebuilding, renewing, and recreating, as well as expanding at practically breakneck speed. Denver is a young city apparently cashing in on the tendency of technologically minded persons to also be relatively outdoorsy and ecologically minded, and what better place than Denver for an outdoorsy and ecologically minded person to set down into a profession that keeps them well connected to the transport grid through a major hub airport, multiple interstate connections, blooming industry and business, all conducted in the shadows of the awe inspiring Rockies.<\/p>\n
\nWe were headed to Broomfield because our hotel was there, and our hotel was only there because I had some free nights at a W property to redeem and this location fit the criteria. Free nights will draw me to a place I might not otherwise stay, without doubt. This property was brand new, and I mean so new you could still smell the paint and adhesives used to put the final touches on. This was an Aloft property, Aloft being a new concept hotel owned by the W brand, itself part of the Westin and Starwood chain. There are a high concentration of tech firms in Broomfield, most notably IBM, and the hotel is clearly designed to appeal to a younger, hipper, more technologically advanced group than I, and even more so than T.<\/p>\n
\nAfter all, this is the year that even I turn 40 and T is a few years ahead of me, and at some point, our interest in the latest developments and crazes died. After all, it was only last week that my infusion nurse explained to me who the hell Kate and John were (I still don’t know why I should care about the lives of two people stupid enough to have 8 children nor about the boring and pathetic lives of those who dedicate time from their own lives to watch them or their messy divorce) that stares at me from the headlines in literally every supermarket check out aisle. I almost broke down and bought a copy of People just to put my mind to rest about who these fools were! Thankfully, my doctor’s office subscribes and saved me the $4 to gratify my only mildly stimulated curiosity.<\/p>\n
\nAloft models itself on a “loft living” concept, which to me translated into a less than ideal bed, very little space, and an inset portion of the half wall that divided the entry area from the bed area that had a curtain across it to masquerade as a closet. The shower was clever appearing in that they don’t go in for the wasteful little bottles of shampoo etc and mini soaps that you will use less than half of, leaving housekeeping to toss the bulk of it plus the packaging, instead opting for bulk dispensers on the shower wall, so totally reminiscent of high school gym glass or modern health clubs. Sadly, despite its visual appeal, the shower leaked.<\/p>\n
\nWhat the room did have, and this is apparently of top priority for the younger wonky set, was a HD flat panel TV with this box thingy attached. T tells me it is properly called an “automated signal switching device.” As the maintenance guy, who was in our room when we opened the door, talk about a shock, explained, it would allow us to pull out our Xbox and plug it right in and play. OK, stop, what the hell is an Xbox? A porn device? Nope, turns out it is a game thing of some sort. However, I never got beyond Pong and never sank a week’s worth of allowance quarters into a video game at the corner store, so these trends passed me by. But I confess, it fascinates me to think that highly educated professionals are tromping through airports with me carrying game devices in their baggage so that they can blast aliens, or whatever these games do today, in their hotel rooms during their off time. To think that I still carry a book with me.<\/p>\n
\nThe place was clean, new, and so were the staff, who were relentlessly cheerful. The bar, while unpopulated, promised Thursday as ladies night complete with X-rated martinis, and while I confess I was intrigued as to how a martini gets a X rating, I didn’t bother to go down and find out. We did like the mini food shopping area in the lobby that even stocked Ben and Jerry’s ice cream along with drinkable coffee, but T was less than thrilled to have to go down there to get ice for our in room evening drinks or to get coffee in the AM due to a lack of sufficient supplies in the room. Perhaps the younger set targeted by Aloft thinks that coffee time is a social time, whereas we tend to think of it a dangerous time in which only the foolish speak, waiting for the caffeine to percolate through our tired and 4 decades old bodies. I should imagine that some of the younger and hipper amongst my acquaintances and friends might greatly enjoy Aloft and its attractions, but I would say that the only reason T and I would stay at one again
\nwould be if we find ourselves with free room nights to expend. Again, there is nothing WRONG with the place, we just are not in its demographic. But hey, you have to love the “Hybrids Only” parking in the front of the hotel, especially if you are driving a hybrid instead of a Nissan Pathfinder, which is decidedly not a hybrid.<\/p>\n
\nSince it was maybe all of noon, we decided to drive up to Rocky Mountain National Park, accessible through the town of Estes Park, not terribly far to the northwest from where we were staying. I was in Estes Park somewhere probably closer to 10 years ago than I would like to admit, and time certainly does change things. The town I remember was a great deal smaller with far less blooming of vacation condo complexes than greets the eye today, or perhaps I just don’t remember that part of it. Today the town is overgrown and screams tourist trap from every t-shirt shop and ice cream parlor on its overcrowded main drag. Again, perhaps I don’t remember it correctly, but to me it will always be the little town in which I saw a classic car painted in a two tone color scheme that would prove the inspiration for how I would paint the den in my California house.<\/p>\n
\nRocky Mountain National Park is one of the most visited parks in the entire system, and perhaps this isn’t surprising given how easy it is to get to from a major urban area like Denver. And yet, there were a surprising rainbow of license plates from all over the country as well as a diverse selection of languages being spoken from across Europe and Asia. I have never been clear how a Korean tourist planning a trip to the US becomes aware of locations such as Rocky Mountain National Park, but since I can’t really read most tour books published in other countries, perhaps it is something that is highlighted as of particular interest. Maybe friends pass the word, who knows, but surprisingly to me, it was a highly popular destination for people from across the US and the world.<\/p>\n
\nIf you go to the park and drive Trail Ridge Road, the attraction will become pretty immediately obvious, in that the panoramic views are hard to beat as is the rather unique chance to visit an alpine tundra environment, above the tree line, without having to huff and puff through the thin air on a hiking adventure. One hits and passes tree line at somewhere about 11,000 feet above sea level, the point above which trees cannot grow, and that signals the beginning of the alpine, as opposed to arctic, tundra environment of short, tough, and tussock-like grasses, still covered in deep snow drifts in mid-June, with the attendant warnings to stay away from the snow since it is unstable and overhangs dramatic drop offs, creating an avalanche danger area. If one were unwisely and unadvisedly tramping across a snow drift that dropped off to start an avalanche, you would be in for one hell of a wild and quite possibly fatal ride. It is in situations like this, or around boiling hot water and mud in Yellowstone or Lassen National Parks, that I especially hate the apparent inability of parents and grandparents to control their heathen offspring, who wander oblivious and dangerously close to disaster for themselves, those below them, and for those who will inevitably have to risk life and limb to recover the remains. Personally, I would let the bears, eagles, and wolves take care of the latter part, but we all know that such will not become endorsed policy any time soon. Sadly, I didn’t get to witness the demise of any loud mouthed little brats, but still, they make me nervous as they tromp out over restricted snow banks, convinced that the world has no barriers or limits that apply to them, while the theoretically responsible adults are too enamored of the views and momentary silences after being locked in the RV with the brats to question why their ears are no longer ringing. Sensibly, we don’t even bring a small dog with us to disrupt our quiet explorations of the world. We hire a sitter and you would think that parents would have the sense and courtesy to do the same! To be clear, WE DON’T LIKE CHILDREN under the best of circumstances and I personally remain convinced that adults only airlines, stores, vacation spots, everything ultimately, would be a huge hit amongst the childless majority of those who can afford to travel since all of their time and resources are not poured into the insatiable maws of screaming brats. Granted, they are necessary once they grow up to provide goods and services to me, but I really think I should be able to avoid interactions with them until they are at least out of high school, and even then some of them are questionable!<\/p>\n
\nBut back to the point, Trail Ridge Road is a relatively easy to negotiate window on to a very high altitude world that many will never be able to experience or witness. Be warned though that as you climb, the amount of available oxygen will markedly decrease, so that short and easy hikes out to a viewing area may become far more of a challenge that you were initially prepared for. Over the course of our adventure, Tim would find himself gasping for breath in Breckenridge, at 10,000+ feet, and I would develop the expected nausea and fatigue, plus on return to Atlanta, abnormal blood test results suggestive of red blood cell cancer, but really only the result of the body trying to make more oxygen carrying cells to compensate for a reduced amount of oxygen to carry. Altitude has its costs, but in the end, I think most would agree with me that it is worth it to experience the otherworldly beauty of being two plus miles up. Tim found it entertaining to mimic the warning chimes of Delta jets as we too descended past 10,000 feet, but in our case, we were still in an earthbound vehicle. Honestly, there are not many occasions in which the 10,000 feet above sea level mark is reached, marking the point at which allowable portable electronic devices are either able to be used, or at which they must be put away, depending on whether arriving or departing, while still touching terra firma.<\/p>\n
\nI gloried in the scent of the pine trees which came flooding into the car, pine trees, the crisp clean scent of snow, the cool air, the birds chirping and wheeling, it was practically like a Pine-Sol commercial, but without the annoying jingle and chemical after scent. Sadly, this is all heavily threatened by the pine bark beetle, an insect the size of a grain of rice, that got started destroying pines by the millions in Canada that has found its way south. The beetle carries a type of fungus, assuming I got the story correct, that shuts off the flow of water and nutrients to the tree, killing it quite effectively and then transmitting itself by the airborne route. This explains the VAST swathes of dead trees in the Rockies, including in the national park, that are being replaced my deciduous trees, an obvious difference even when in full leaf and no doubt much more so in winter. Apparently, the beetle was formerly controlled by freezing out in the winter, limiting its spread, but now the winters are too mild to control it, and I leave my readers to draw their own conclusions as to the cause of this latest natural disaster to afflict the wild places of our world. \nWe crossed the Continental Divide on the way down the mountain, and for those who don’t know, this is a geographical line which extends from Alaska to the southern tip of South America, which divides the watersheds of the continents from east to west. When on the East of the Divide, all the water will eventually flow to the Atlantic, much of it in Colorado through the Mississippi River by way of the Gulf of Mexico, and this explains why we could cross the Arkansas River so far from the actual state of Arkansas, and most all of those streams, waterfalls, and rivulets will eventually feed the Mississippi through the Arkansas, or the Platte, or any number of other tributaries and feedings over time and miles. On the western side of the Divide, all water flows to the Pacific, mostly through the Colorado River to the Gulf of California, although as any westerner knows, most of that water will be diverted to grow food to feed the rest of the US appetite for fruits and vegetables, or its appetite for entertainment and residence in Las Vegas, Phoenix, or Tucson, to name only a few of the cities and industries draining the west of viable water supplies. Of course there are also water flows that are trapped by the Great Basin geography, doomed to never reach an ocean, because to do so would require water to do what it can’t unassisted, reverse gravity and climb a mountain to escape. But this is a remarkable geographical feature and the effect remains the same even if the route to the Atlantic changes from the Mississippi to the Amazon. We would dance across the Divide repeatedly over our time in Colorado, for it is anything but a straight line, moving and changing repeatedly with the changing topography of the mountains, adhering to a rhythm all its own.<\/p>\n \nWe stopped on our way down the mountain for a lunch that was mediocre at best, but not all was lost, because on our nightly beer and soda run to stock our in room refrigerator, we chanced upon Pho 120, a Vietnamese noodle restaurant for those not in the know, and as might be predicted, we would eat dinner there three more times during our stay, every night we were in Denver in fact, including on the way to the airport for our 1:15am flight out. After all, we have been known to find pho in Seattle as well as other places we travel. We have a serious romance with pho, although I am not entirely sure why. I know I love it for the fish sauce, made by pressing heavily salted and fermented sardines and collecting the liquid that comes out. The details of what is in it probably don’t bear close thought especially because I love the stuff and don’t want to think about it, whereas T is just a general fan of most all soupy things including Campbell’s Chicken Noodle, so this beef and rice noodle variety with lots of basil, bean sprouts, lime, and extremely hot peppers sort of fits that general mould but in a FAR more tasty and satisfying way for less than $7. I will never completely understand the naming convention peculiar to pho restaurants whereby a seemingly random number figures in. In Atlanta, for example, we eat at Pho #1 which could make sense as in “the best pho restaurant in Atlanta” if it were not for the presence, immediately across the street, of Pho #79, a number with no particular meaning to me, or now, Pho #120 in Denver. I mused that perhaps there was a national registry of pho restaurants, and this one was the 120th to sign up. T is pretty sure this is not the case, but it is the only even remotely plausible explanation I can think of, and believe me, I understand that I am using the term plausible loosely.<\/p>\n \nPho 120 provided one more source of mystification in the form of a van parked outside it on our second visit which sported a prominent “choose life” anti-abortion bumper sticker, which by itself annoys me because of the ridiculously sentimental idea of what life is and the need to preserve it regardless of all the reasons why doing so might not be in the ultimate best interest of humanity, to say nothing of my overwhelming desire to ask so called pro-life people just exactly how many otherwise unwanted children they have adopted and are providing loving and caring homes to, along with education and other advantages and opportunities. I could almost respect them if they ever once put their money where their loud mouths are instead of just ranting and trying to force their visions of morality and behavior down everyone else’s throats because they have some monopoly on moral correctness. I have never yet met an anti-abortion loud mouth who has adopted an otherwise unwanted child and I don’t expect to. My personal feeling on the point is that I would like to envision a world in which abortion isn’t necessary, but since it is these same loud mouths who so frequently oppose effective family planning options and education, they seem to be working for abortion instead of against it. Clearly, as indicated by both validated and controlled scientific studies and by the Bristol Palins of this world, “purity rings” just don’t work. Besides, if you are against abortion, fine, don’t have one, but you can’t seriously believe that it serves anyone’s best interest to have a 14 year old raising a child, or that forcing a woman to bear the child of her rapist attacker is even humane. If you don’t believe in abortion, fine, don’t have one and furthermore, go out and adopt and LONG TERM SUPPORT AND NUTURE a neighborhood crack baby. Trust me, it won’t happen, that would be too hard, but putting on a bumper sticker, that takes no effort whatsoever and geez, I feel so good about myself now! Of course I have to ignore the blatant exploitation, abuse, and early deaths of these children that I am also implicitly supporting by attempting to force them to be born in order to live with myself, but I am well practiced at self-delusion, so this won’t be a big stretch. After all, I can make myself believe that those massive mountains and the myriad fossils they contain were “placed” there just like they are slightly over 4,000 years ago by a perfect god, not the product of millennia upon millennia of geological processes as Satan-laden science would have me believe.<\/p>\n \nBut I promised myself to dilute the vitriol against stupidity in this narrative, so really I must try. But I have to point out that what really captured my incredulous attention about this particular “choose life” sticker was that is was immediately above a Marlboro sticker. Clearly, we must choose to have this baby born so that it can live in a tobacco smoke filled environment to develop the life affirming diseases of asthma, bronchitis, and pneumonia, while growing up in the social environment that supports the idea that smoking is somehow a good thing so that the child can grow up into a person that dies a slow and painful death from one of the myriad forms of cancer or other disease fostered by smoking tobacco. Now it all makes sense! Choose life so that it can be snuffed out later, or at least severely limited, by a lifetime addiction to tobacco. Surely you all have to see how much sense that really doesn’t make and why it would capture my jaded and sarcastic eye.<\/p>\n \nBut regardless, the pho was amazing, and I wish I had a huge steaming hot bowl of right now, pleasantly spiced with red chili paste and fresh green smoking hot chilies, as well as salted with dried pressed anchovies, if for no other reason than that it would clear out and clean my congested sinus cavities while tasting oh so delicious at the same time!<\/p>\n \nThe following day we headed south towards Colorado Springs, that great bastion of hatred and home to mega-churches and my all time ultimate enemy, Focus on the Family. I have to give credit to hate-based organizations that use clever vocabulary to disguise their ultimate and real purposes. Colorado Springs (CS) serves as the antithesis of Denver to me, in that CS is founded on and thrives in the soil of hate, bigotry, and ignorance, whereas Denver seems to thrive more on the youth, energy, openness, and acceptance of its residents. This dichotomy of experience and expression is particularly striking since the two cities, and two ideologies co-exist within a hour’s drive of each other.<\/p>\n \nOf course, CS is also home to the Air Force academy, and it is unclear to me whether it is the presence of the military that drives the bigotry or whether it is coincidence, although certainly the military is not an open accepting bastion of diversity. I am fairly certain that the Academy pre-dates the mega-church phenomenon or the Focus on the Family reign of Christian terror, so perhaps the militaristic basis of the place proved fertile ground or perhaps it was just coincidence. Regardless, it seems shameful that such a physically beautiful place should be so scarred by the vitriolic rampages of hate.<\/p>\n
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