And I finally made it to Golden, one of those towns you hear and it’s nice to say you saw it. Once anyway. This morning I drove uptown [Denver], still searching for a favorite way to get there, since like all cities that overgrow another, it is hard to find good thoroughfares anywhere. I found 6th street and drove west for ten minutes. There I was in Golden, just in time to see them blocking off all the roads for a bicycle race. Even though it was hours before anything happened, they would not let me park under this sign and snap a classic photo.
The Coors brewery is tucked in a valley east of town, I didn’t remember that [it was in Golden] until I saw a free tour bus. Maybe another time, although several people were kind enough to repeatedly remind me they gave free beer samples. Hmm, free beer. What a concept. Golden is much smaller than I thought for something so close to Denver. It is right at the beginning of the foothills, set in betweenst some buttes, an entirely different geographical formation than the Rockies. Interesting contrast, since the mesas are worn down and the mountains are thrust up. Next, I took the long drive in low gear up Lookout Mountain, acontinuation of 19th street, Golden. That is the highest I’ve been since 1999 when I came over the continental divide on my way to rendezvous with a heart attack in Florida. Today was cloudy, great for travel, not so great for viewing, but I finally saw the foothills as more than distant blue horizon. I truly miss this kind of scenery. Many local signs say Buffalo Bill is buried at the top of Lookout Mountain, which I correctly identified, assisted by a large letter “M” visible from 30 miles away.
This twisty road took a half-hour but the views are so fantastic I stayed under the 15mph speed limit. At least part of said bicycle race must be up and down that mountain, something I could not even consider. Hundreds of others were on the pavement, to the top, and then passing me in droves on the way down. The sidecar is a pleaser. I stopped at one curb just before the tree line, where the pines close the road in. That's this next picture.
In fact, that large building just left of center is the brewery. If you can, blow the picture up because I know my eye could see the sign where the camera doesn’t. Behind the hills is the northern outskirts of Denver in this scene looking directly east.Now if you are like me, you mix up Buffalo Bill with Wild Bill Hickok. Maybe after today I’ll know better. At the top of the trail is the gravesite of Col. William Cody. And his wife. Apparently he changed his mind about being buried in Cody at the last moment, and asked for Lookout Mountain, where four states are visible. He must have died on a much clearer day.
The drive is a must if you are anywhere near. There is a small museum that focuses on his wild west show, where I see he was quite the innovator. Mind you, toward the end, around hundred years ago now, he was including everything from elephants to Japanese cavalry. I saw his rifles, saddle, lariat, gloves, knife, gun, and all of it in tip-top condition, so the guy had friends. Spend the five bucks and see it, along with a few displays of Indian artifacts.
What I learned today was about those artifacts, but not from the museum. I was reading a book on the influence of English mills on America once they discovered that cotton could be worked just as well as wool on the same machinery. English trade goods have been found west of the Mississippi as early as 1570, what’s that, 78 years after Columbus. It shows the Indians traded heavily between themselves, or at least that is my conclusion.
The scenery from the road is wonderful. Unlike jack pine and tundra pine, these long needle trees space themselves so you can walk through the forest. I heard that the needles that shed around the base of the trees are acidic, a natural defense against other plants competing for the available soil. I saw that in the Georgia pines as well, it is far better scenery than bush.I used the long hours in the quiet to think about Colorado and the fun of the music last night. It would be so tempting to just walk into a playing situation instead of the uphill fight it became in Florida. I am a classically trained musician with experience arranging music, and arranging is a step far too many leave out. House prices here are still far too high, though I’ll take a peek. I can’t just pack up and leave Florida. But once I’m back there for a month or two to settle a few things, then I could—and I have no doubt I’ll be buying a trailer for the sidecar soon as I can afford it.
Speaking of cash, a lady I casually knew a few years ago got mugged in Spain. Lost everything and got clubbed on the head. Sadly, she is writing everyone, including me, for a loan to get back and I cannot help. Like everyone on a budget, cash gets tight at the end of the month, and travel cost me nearly 20% more than I projected. If she is still stranded after first of the month, I could likely spare some. I should not feel bad, I mean, I can’t afford European holidays.
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