After concluding my rafting trip in Oregon, I met up with my roommate Sean and labmate Eric in Salt Lake City. They had been on a roadtrip of their own through Montana, and now we were linking up to begin the phase of our respective roadtrips together. Sean and I, having read "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac probably about six or seven times in college (I had it on book tape and would listen to it when I would drive back and forth from El Paso to Austin), both wanted to see Denver for a weekend night and walk down the famous Market and Larimer streets of Kerouac's and Ginsberg's haunt. So, we decided to drive southeast to see Arches National Park, camp a night, then swing east to Denver. After some minor car troubles in Provo, Utah, we motored as fast as we could to reach Moab (the site of the Arches National Park), in time for sunset. And....we ....just...made...it...in...time!
I have seen enough pictures of this park in enough National Geographic magazines to give me a "this Earth is beautiful" overload, but, oh how quickly urban cynicism melts away in the face of ancient grandeur! Over hundreds of millions of years the wind has eroded the red rock into spectacular shapes. You need to go. Kill that silly Europe trip (it's too expensive anyway).
You can see Sean looking into the canyon below, and me almost camouflaged in the center of the picture. We raced up the trail to see the famous delicate arch before night fell.
And there it is. The famous "delicate arch" that is on the Utah license plate and on the cover of almost every road atlas ever printed. The sun set just as we reached it.
All the campsites were full, so we stayed that night at a very cool hostel in Moab. It was only eight dollars for a dorm style bed, and we stayed up drinking beers with the other guests. Some of the guests were aimless young wanderers that were hard to talk to. One young man had actually just quit his summer job and was hitchhiking across the country, trying to make it up to Alaska so he could visit the famous bus Christopher McCandless lived and died in. Wow...talk about morbid. Now, I loved the movie and book "Into the Wild", and I did relate to Christopher, but the whole "society is bullshit" mentality is incredibly sophomoric. Anybody who thinks that way and is older than 17 has become mentally stale. Come to think of it though, the dude at the hostel hitchhiking was about 17/18...
But I digress. I enjoyed talking to some professors and undergraduates at the hostel who were doing field research on local beetles, and some of the international people on vacation were interesting (and pretty) as well.
I wish there was more of a hostel culture in the U.S, as staying at motels and hotels is incredibly bland. You check it, go to your room, and that's it. When I've been in a car for 12 hours, it's great to simply have some beers and chat with people. At a motel though, there's rarely anyone in the lounge. But at a hostel, it's almost expected that you hang out in the common area and talk to the other travellers.
Early the next morning, we decided to take a local state road for part of the way to Denver. The road follows the Colorado River for a few hundred miles. I can't look at the picture below without wanting to simply get in my car and do it all over again...
And, as I've written about before, the car was a little cramped, especially for the person in the back seat..
And after we reached the end of the road and started getting close to Colorado, we had to do a map check in the middle of nowhere. Thank god Bopper only broke down on me in Ohio...
Once we reached Colorado, we decided to make a pit stop in Vail just to see this famous city that always seemed to be printed on the sweatshirts of students in my high school and college after a winter vacation. What is this magical place where rich people go?
Oh my God...It's like a Mountain Dew commercial. Don't...ever....go. I didn't take many pictures, but imagine anybody you know who is really into outdoor adventures, but in an annoying way. Now imagine a whole city full of people like that! Folks covered in Spandex, drinking Sobe, riding overly expensive bikes, wearing overly expensive workout apparel. Couples in their 30's with no kids but with their expensive pedigree dog as a fashion accessory and child replacement. Sorority Girls and Boys that look they came out of a machine. Expensive boutique stores. Overpriced food and drink. Needless to say, we only stayed about an hour for a some people-watching, and then we ran away to Denver.
Bopper had to really struggle to make it through the the Vail Pass and the Eisenhower tunnel to cross through the continental divide and head into Denver. The Eisenhower Tunnel is the highest tunnel in the world at ~11,000 feet. You actually drive above the treeline, it gets rather cold, and you find yourself a little lightheaded. The experience is second only to driving up Mona Kea (13,500 ft) in Hawaii to see the telescopes.
We finally made it into Denver and checked into the local hostel. The Denver hostel was weird. The guy at the desk went on for five minutes about where all the local churches were if we wanted to go to service in the morning, followed by a story about how just the day before a local 8 year old had shot and killed two burglars robbing her house when her parents were gone. But...with some hand wringing, he finally told us where the local watering hole was, and after checking into the storage room where we would stay for the night, we headed into town.
Downtown Denver is a pretty happening place. There are lots of clubs, lots of restaurants, and lots of people just milling about. We went a few bars on the Market Street, I annoyed Sean by constantly reciting poetry by Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac, and then I split from the group to go to the punk bar "Benders" which a cute hipster waitress had recommended to me.
I had quite an experience at the bar. I wrote a poem about it even. Once I put it to music I'll post it here. Let's just say it involves an Indian goddess tattoo and crossed paths.
Coming up: On to New Mexico....
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