Saturday on the Front Range

It’s a beautiful day in Boulder. There’s an art show of some sort downtown and it made for heavy traffic as I went west to find Hwy. 93. But the people all looked happy; kids in strollers, food booths, and people enjoying the sun. But I wasn’t stopping; I was on my way to the mountains, to Blackhawk, in fact.

This is the first time I’ve taken Hwy 93, which connects Boulder to the western edges of Arvada. It finally stops in Golden, right at the junction of Hwy. 6, about 18 miles south of UC Boulder. It doesn’t take long outside Boulder before you realize how close you are to the wide-open spaces, ranches and parking lots for trailheads.

I saw a small corral, populated by a lot of kids in cowboy hats; I think they were having a kiddie rodeo. Cows were grazing off to my right, in the green fields that form a sort of pretty foreground for the rocks that, at one time, heaved violently upward and became the flatirons. To my left, I could see the hazy outline of downtown Denver -- and even beyond that, eastward.

I saw a photographer setting-up a tripod next to an abandoned rock shanty of sorts – it was obvious she was going to use the shanty as foreground for the magnificent mountains jutting up about a half-mile west. I envied her; so far, I feel too insignificant and unable to adequately capture the mountains photographically. I think I have to understand them first.

That’s why I pay attention to the weather they make, how they look in the morning vs. how they look on the way home from work. I have to get to “know” these mountains because, since I’ve already declared that they are alive, I now have to know their “personalities.” It may take me a whole four seasons in their presence to understand them. And even then, I bet they will surprise me every now and then.

On south, a couple of miles north of Golden's city limits, developers are building. The houses seem so out of place in the midst of the rocks, the grazing pastures, the trees, few though they may be, budding. I can’t get over the style of homes that builders are building in the Denver-Boulder MSA, and these are no exception. All of the houses are at least two, and more often than not, three stories (and I’m not counting basements). The only rationale I can come up with is, aside from sheer habit, that it likely takes a two- or three-story home to offer potential buyers a mountain view.

My boss, who lives in Lafayette, just east of Boulder, says he has a lovely view of the mountains. But since I didn’t see them on the first floor of his home, it must be only upstairs that you can see the bare flatirons and the snowy peaks behind them…where Eldora, Winter Park and other ski areas are.

I turned right on Hwy. 6 and began the drive upward. The difference in elevation is about 3,000 feet from Boulder to Blackhawk and today, which is nearly 80 degrees on the flatlands, is 10 degrees colder at Blackhawk.

You go through three tunnels, punched through the mountains in the Clear Creek Canyon area, and the road basically follows the creek. In a number of places, you can see snowmelt, feeding the creek, and the creek is substantially fuller and wilder than when ER and I were in the same area about a month ago. Because of that, SUV's were all over the place, with people either loading or unloading their kayaks. Loads of people were just hiking, and there's one flat place where you can pull off that's right next to the creek. There, I saw families more so than the mountain athletes, and a boy was throwing rocks into the water.

I love the signs in Clear Creek Canyon along the road. Along with the expected “Watch for Falling Rocks” signs, are signs that say “Climb to Safety in Event of Flood.” First, the road that follows the creek is so windy that there’s no way you can watch for rocks; you just drive and hope that a rock won’t fall on you. Second, broken hip and knee surgeries aside, I bet I could climb like a crazy woman if caught in a flood there.

After the third tunnel (which have the appearance of being created during the WPA era – you know, there’s a certain look to WPA projects – drlobojo, you probably know if that’s the case), you come to a divide where you take Hwy. 119 to Blackhawk.

Blackhawk is just as it sounds, an Indian area, and also designated as a national Historic town, so a sign said. And of course, the center of interest in Blackhawk is Casino Heaven. Not just one, but many, many casinos and hotels. You’d think such a thing wouldn’t fit in with the mountains around them, but they seem to belong there. I went to Isle of Capri casino, spent a couple of hours there, and made the return trip, taking-in the opposite view of the one I had on the way up.

At Isle of Capri, I found a slot machine that was generous to me, over and over again. Bird can’t believe that I won’t just stick money I’ve won in my pocket and go home. My rule of thumb is a payout of $500 is the minimum for me to stick the money in my pocket and hightail out of there. You don’t want to make more than $600 on any one game, as you’ll have to fill our IRS forms.

But I enjoy the lights, the people, the sounds of the casino. Bird and ER don’t get the same kind of kick out of the casino environment that I do. And I don’t even know why I enjoy it. I just like going and winning enough to spend a good couple of hours hoping for a big one. No big one today, but I won enough money to play out for nearly two hours. Not bad.

I need to be getting a haircut or doing laundry and I’m doing neither. I so enjoy this little temporary spot where I’m living. I’m reading books that I’ve been intending to read, watching movies I love and making myself simple meals for one. I will be very glad, of course, when ER makes the decision to come, but in the meantime, I will continue enjoying living by myself for the first time in my life. Truly, it’s the first time.

There are so many things to take in here, it’s almost intimidating. How does one decide, among all the beautiful places, what one will do on a weekend? The good thing is, it’s not vacation, and I don’t have to hurry and take it all in as quickly as possible; I have the luxury of getting to know my mountains slowly…and that makes for a better relationship.

For years, the mountains here have talked to me. And I’m so happy to have the chance to answer them -- wherever they lead me.