Into a cold and foggy morning, I huddled behind Jules and watched Route 149, the Silver Thread, unravel. Following the Rio Grande, it matched the dwindling river curve for curve. The mighty river became a narrow stream, essing through the valley. Rising up into the San Juan mountains, we passed through the small town of Creede, Bat Masterson's hometown.
Into the sun, the Rockies did not disappoint us today. Gearing up onto cliffs and forest switchbacks, Magic took us to the sky. We stopped at the source of the Rio Grande, to gaze miles in the distance at the magnificent Rio Grande Pyramid, the source of it all.
After stopping for breakfast in Lake City, we crossed the Continental Divide at Spring Creek Pass and 10,000 feet. Thinking we were headed downward another climb thrilled us as we entered the Gunnison Mountains and began our shadowing of the second river of the day. Magic loved Slumgullion Pass, at 11,500 feet, the most climbing she's done on this trip. To think that we were all impressed with Logan Pass at 6000....
The Blue Mesa Reservoir was our turning point to route 50 which followed the ever changing Gunnison. A swift running stream morphed into a torrent that carved mini canyons. Then it was a calm carved lake. We turned onto 92 for a backward ride on the edge of the Black Canyon. Even better than the first run, this leg of today's journey was the icing on a delicious cake of a day.
The last leg of our journey was over McClure Pass. At a gas stop, a crone of an attendant forewarned us of the dangers on the "deadliest pass in America." Heavy black clouds hung over the road, but all the warnings and omens couldn't make this road a tough one. Too much hype, too few curves.
We are in for the night at Red Stone, a town built on coal, but so small it has only one street. A wedding at the Inn was a big event. An antique carriage carried guests to the park located by our motel. The park was also the setting for a jazz concert that ended at eight, as they rolled up the sidewalks. The Crystal River borders the town and we ate dinner by the water, watching the sun set over the delicious ruby cliffs.
Throughout this trip, after an A+ day, I have often thought that we had topped out on experience. Yet again and again the road, the bike, and the landscape ups the ante. Is there a limit to joy?
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