Mile 887, in Denver to stay with my dear friend Brian in the bedroom of my dear friend Charles who is off on his own travels just now.
To get here: After Lusk, I was following the rain on my way south. Outside of Cheyenne there was a cloud of reddish smoke, a whole town on fire it looked like. The rain had just started a few miles ago and was still gentle, but that smoke had menace in it. Turns out it was a thick, choking dust swept up by strong wind. Inside the cloud the rain came harder. I tried to close the vents in my helmet but I was coughing anyway. Visibility shrank to maybe a couple hundred feet. On a road marked 65 mph, me and the other vehicles whose tail lights and headlights I lost almost immediately crept along at 20 to 15. The decision to make: do you wait it out or ride it out? If you can’t make up your mind, that means you’re going to ride it out. Less than half a mile more of driving dust and rain it was over, so that worked out for me. On the edge of it, it looked like we had passed a gravel pit with irresponsibly uncovered sand piles.
There was heavy rain getting into Denver, in traffic that I’d hate to do even in a car. At least it cleaned me and the bike up a bit. I unloaded my stuff and got into Brian’s building for a week of bumming around Denver. And finally some goddamn sunshine.
Go, Haley, Go! 