September 30

Today we were out about 9, headed to Colorado.  We wanted to see Mount Rushmore, which we had just breezed past a few days ago, so that was our first stop.  $8 per vehicle to park, no discounts for bike, and National Park Passes not accepted!  I lost Eric for a few minutes in the maze of parking garages, but we hooked back up after a while.  The Monument is quite impressive.  You walk in through an area lined with flags of the states and territories, each showing when the state was admitted to the Union.  I had to find my home state of Georgia.

At the end of this passageway is a viewing platform for the monument.  It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny, just a hint of fall in the air.  The Monument was not crowded, so we took our time and soaked it in.  It is a mighty impressive sight.  But as we looked, I wondered aloud to Eric “What would Jefferson say about the Federal Government appropriating $100 million of the people’s money to build a monument to public servants?”  I think that he would have declared it unconstitutional, and would be ashamed to have his face carved on a mountain at the public’s expense. 

As we were walking out, we ran into the German couple that we had met yesterday at Devil’s Tower, and spoke to them briefly.

Just south of Mt. Rushmore on 16. 

We passed Jewel Cave National Monument, and turned south at Newcastle, Wyoming, on US 85.  We were back out on the Plains now, rolling hills, mainly grasslands, snow fences lining the road, and straight stretches of asphalt for miles on end.  It was time to wick it up and burn up some distance. 

From Lusk we continued south on US-85.  As we approached Lingle, we were cruising at about 90.  Hey, straight roads, great weather, no traffic, excellent visibility…why not?  These roads were MADE for high-speed travel.  Anyway, we rounded an uphill right-hander, and I saw two cars on the side of the road at the hill’s crest.  Suddenly the radar detector went crazy!  Instant on = instant death.  I pulled on the brakes and motioned for Eric to slow down, then looked in my mirrors for the flashing blue lights.  They never appeared.  The Troopers had given us a pass.

We fueled up in Torrington and discussed our good luck.  As we pulled out, I decided to keep the speed down a little bit, especially around towns.  Not 10 miles out of Torrington, the radar detector lit up again, and a Trooper moving northbound motioned for me to slow down as he passed.  I nodded and waved.  I had been doing about 80 in a 65.  Again, no ticket, but it did irritate me that the Wyoming Troopers were patrolling these open, desolate roads.  It seemed like they would have something better to do.

This experience also demonstrated a weakness of radar detectors.  Mine is one of the best on the market, but certain conditions render it almost useless.  In both of these situations, the Trooper has used Ka band, commonly known as “instant on”.  When there is a good bit of traffic on the road, the detector will pick up stray signals from Ka as the Trooper shoots cars ahead of you.  But where there is little or no traffic ahead of you for the Trooper to shoot, there is no stray signal for the detector to detect…until he shoots you, and then it is too late.  That said, the detector has saved me in the past, including one situation where I got a bogus ticket and fought it in court, using the fact that I had a detector to strengthen my case.  They are good tools, but not foolproof.

We kept it at about 5 over the rest of the day.

Shortly after the Busa passed us, the Rockies began to loom up on the horizon.  They are always a spectacular sight, and a sign of wonderful riding to come.

We headed south on I 25, paralleling the Rockies, headed for Loveland.  Eric and I were going to split up in the morning.  He had folks to visit in Colorado Springs, and I had folks to visit in Glenwood Springs.  It seemed like Loveland would make a good stopping place for the night, so I pulled off at an exit that had hotels.  It was rush hour and traffic was heavy, and at one traffic light, Eric yelled “Let’s go on to Estes Park!”  Seemed like a good idea, it would get us up into the mountains and start tomorrow morning off right.  We twisted up Big Thompson canyon in a string of traffic, occasionally getting opportunities to pass.  The guy holding up progress was in an old yellow jeep with a huge lift kit, and he must have been smoking a big fat doobie, because the smell was unmistakable. 

I began to grow concerned as we climbed up the canyon.  It was Friday afternoon, the peak of leaf season, and there was heavy traffic going into the mountains.  I was seeing a lot of NO VACANCY signs.  Would there be any rooms in Estes Park?  Well, there was, we got a room at an older Comfort Inn, $100, very limited breakfast, and no business center.  It was disappointing, considering the quality we had at the other Comforts we had stayed at, but it was a bed.  They sold out shortly after we arrived.

We always ask hotel desk clerks for restaurant recommendations, and this one suggested a steak place right down the hill.  It must have been good, because it was packed and had an hour wait.  No thanks.  We turned around and stopped at a Mexican place called the Grumpy Gringo.  When one place is packed, and another place 50 yards away is deserted, it makes you wonder.  But we were hungry, and there was no cause for concern.  The food was excellent, and they had a nice selection of tequilas.  We were walking back to the hotel, full and happy, before we would have been seated at the steak place.

389 miles today.

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