Leaving Andrew at Red Rocks, I drove north towards Denver. That's when the clouds which had threatened all day decided to muscle up. First they showed a little drizzle which quickly turned to a drenching downpour followed by a thumping hail storm. Within minutes it left about three inches of ice on the road. The power of the Rockies be furious.
I made it into town and headed southwest on Hwy 285 toward a campsite that was printed on the map. This was to be the first in a string of bad decisions. Battling the rain, I reached the camping area only to find out that it was closed due to road construction. Returning to town I went to another listed campsite which turned out to be for RV rigs only. So.......it was getting dark and I had nowhere to sleep. Thinking I'd be a sly dawg and bed down in a dark corner of a local park, I wrestled the tent up and quickly entered into an exhaustion-induced sleep that would have made Rip Van Winkle proud.
It must have taken that cop about ten minutes to roust me out of my coma two hours later. Good thing the local police units are busy trolling the parks looking for desperate tourists to harass because I was surely a danger to the local citizens. Johnny Lawbook had little sympathy for my plight and forced me to move on. I gave up looking for another campsite and pulled into a nondescript-looking parking lot to finish out the night in the front seat. I endured a miserable few hours searching for that elusive comfortable spot.
At about 6:30 a.m., I was awakened from a fitful sleep by a knocking at the window. Officer O'Shea was less happy to see me than Officer O'Malley. It was just my luck that I'd chosen an elementary school parking lot to rest my eyes. I'm sure my greasy, dirt-covered mug did little to convince him that I was not a wandering pedophile and with a stern lecture he promptly removed me from the premises. Always there when you don't need 'em.
Quite tired but much wiser in my ways, I finally found a safe haven at the Chatfield State Recreation Area. The rain
hardly let up for the next three days and I spent virtually the entire stay whiling away the minutes inside the tent. As all great adventurers do on an expedition, I took a picture of myself holed up in the crib, stoic and contemplative.
I had planned to ride several of the excellent local open space areas in the mountains west of Denver but the weather just didn't cooperate. This was a definite disappointment because Jefferson County has been very diligent in its efforts to preserve undeveloped land and I wanted to see first-hand what has been accomplished. In 1972, the voters in Jeffco approved a half cent sales tax increase for public land acquisition. The results have been impressive. Cheers for the people of Denver, nuts for the weather.
Chatfield State Recreation Area is an excellent place to escape the city and the opportunities here to fish, hike, bike, go boating and observe wildlife are really outstanding. The South Platte River, swollen from rain and the winter melt, roils into the Chatfield Reservoir and feeds the murky "lake". The park is tightly managed (some might say overmanaged) to maintain an excellent natural habitat for the community of life here. The amount of money spent by the state keeping-up the extensive public facilities must be staggering. During brief lulls in the rain, I watched with glee the revelry of numerous bird species carousing in the damp skies and the quiet to-and-fro pitter-patter of a large colony of rabbits. Oh, if I were a duck, quacking out my joy. Shut up, this is pure excitement.
Finally, on the last evening, the clouds broke a bit to present to me the splendor of a bold Rocky Mountain sunset. Would it be a beacon of hope for more pleasant days? We shall see.
I made it into town and headed southwest on Hwy 285 toward a campsite that was printed on the map. This was to be the first in a string of bad decisions. Battling the rain, I reached the camping area only to find out that it was closed due to road construction. Returning to town I went to another listed campsite which turned out to be for RV rigs only. So.......it was getting dark and I had nowhere to sleep. Thinking I'd be a sly dawg and bed down in a dark corner of a local park, I wrestled the tent up and quickly entered into an exhaustion-induced sleep that would have made Rip Van Winkle proud.
It must have taken that cop about ten minutes to roust me out of my coma two hours later. Good thing the local police units are busy trolling the parks looking for desperate tourists to harass because I was surely a danger to the local citizens. Johnny Lawbook had little sympathy for my plight and forced me to move on. I gave up looking for another campsite and pulled into a nondescript-looking parking lot to finish out the night in the front seat. I endured a miserable few hours searching for that elusive comfortable spot.
At about 6:30 a.m., I was awakened from a fitful sleep by a knocking at the window. Officer O'Shea was less happy to see me than Officer O'Malley. It was just my luck that I'd chosen an elementary school parking lot to rest my eyes. I'm sure my greasy, dirt-covered mug did little to convince him that I was not a wandering pedophile and with a stern lecture he promptly removed me from the premises. Always there when you don't need 'em.
Quite tired but much wiser in my ways, I finally found a safe haven at the Chatfield State Recreation Area. The rain
hardly let up for the next three days and I spent virtually the entire stay whiling away the minutes inside the tent. As all great adventurers do on an expedition, I took a picture of myself holed up in the crib, stoic and contemplative.I had planned to ride several of the excellent local open space areas in the mountains west of Denver but the weather just didn't cooperate. This was a definite disappointment because Jefferson County has been very diligent in its efforts to preserve undeveloped land and I wanted to see first-hand what has been accomplished. In 1972, the voters in Jeffco approved a half cent sales tax increase for public land acquisition. The results have been impressive. Cheers for the people of Denver, nuts for the weather.
Chatfield State Recreation Area is an excellent place to escape the city and the opportunities here to fish, hike, bike, go boating and observe wildlife are really outstanding. The South Platte River, swollen from rain and the winter melt, roils into the Chatfield Reservoir and feeds the murky "lake". The park is tightly managed (some might say overmanaged) to maintain an excellent natural habitat for the community of life here. The amount of money spent by the state keeping-up the extensive public facilities must be staggering. During brief lulls in the rain, I watched with glee the revelry of numerous bird species carousing in the damp skies and the quiet to-and-fro pitter-patter of a large colony of rabbits. Oh, if I were a duck, quacking out my joy. Shut up, this is pure excitement.
Finally, on the last evening, the clouds broke a bit to present to me the splendor of a bold Rocky Mountain sunset. Would it be a beacon of hope for more pleasant days? We shall see.
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