Sorry for the late post. I was busy soaking in the Glenwood Hot Springs. Ahhhhh….
After all the glory of the Utah National Parks, we thought today was going to… well… suck, for lack of a better word--back on Interstate 70, through the no-mans-land part of Utah into Colorado. Man! Were we pleasantly surprised! The Utah stretch was desolate, but very textural and interesting. I even saw a roadside sign that said, “Eagles on Road.” How interesting is that?! I never saw an Eagle on the road, though, only in the sky. Maybe the road Eagles were hanging out with Kerouac. Thanks to a roadside readjustment, I got to take this purty picture of my Sportster. She's wearing a lot of road dirt right now.
I’ve traveled the country a lot. Growing up, my parents would pack my brother and I in the camper and head cross-country. For a month. In a camper. With my brother. Ugh. That’s how I thought of it as a kid. I didn’t appreciate it the way I do as an adult.
My point, though…
In all of my cross-state travels, I’ve never seen so dramatic of a state line as I did today, crossing into Colorado. We passed a wooden plank sign that read, “Welcome to Colorado, the colorful state,” where two hard-core bicyclists were stopped to get their picture. The MOMENT… I mean, the very SECOND we crossed that state line, the terrain changed. It went from a virtual moonscape, to hills and greenery. I thought it was perhaps my overly vivid imagination, but my feller mentioned it on our next stop, and was equally stupefied. I’m sure he’ll write about it in his blog as well (www.socal67.com).
From there, the ride just got better and better as we snaked along with the Colorado River through the mountains--wide sweepers on smooth roads with a gorgeous river running alongside and black-eyed Susans waving from the shoulder. Pretty nifty.
We got to our destination by one thirty, an historic hotel built in 1893. Hotel Colorado, in Glenwood Springs. (Check out the website. It has an interesting history.) One of my feller’s coworker’s husband suggested we stop in Glenwood Springs, so I searched the internet and found this place, a four story sandstone building right across from the hot springs. It was built in 1893 as a luxury getaway for the rich. The staff was very accomodating, even giving us special motorcycle parking. I think my feller enjoyed driving on the sidewalks a little too much.
According to the hotel, the Teddy Bear was named here during a visit from Theodore Roosevelt, who was in the area bear hunting, and when he became ill, the staff made a stuffed bear and gave it to him. My feller and Teddy had a very meaningful conversation. You can tell by the looks on their faces. My feller also found himself a nice ghostly girlfriend. And we didn't believe them when they said the place was haunted...
The town is classic American charm, with the Colorado River running through the middle, and a downtown district made up of turn-of-the century (20th) buildings. I reckon it mostly caters to tourists—lots of good restaurants and shops.
The great thing about getting here so early was having time to go to the hot springs. This thing is HUGE, packed with people, two pools (one 104 degrees, the other cooler). We swam for a couple of hours. Cleaned up for dinner. Ate a great meal at Juicy Lucy’s. And went back to the Hot Springs. I’m so relaxed right now, I have to prop up my hand to type.
Tomorrow we hit our final destination. Denver. I’m not going to say it will be a boring ride, ‘cause we said that about today, and boy were we wrong. Surprise! Surprise!