Blanding to Dolores
Relatively easy and rolling terrain to Dolores today. No majors climbs, which is a great relief. Found a dollar taco joint in the middle of nowhere. (What up, Columbus.) Stopped in for Chris to get a Coke and some ice cream. Believe me when I say that these are the two things we fantasize most about while riding in the heat everyday. Giant mirages appear on the horizon: a banana split, a gin and tonic, a pina colada. They taunt you in the distance next to a herd of cows.
We landed at the Cozy Comfort RV park, which turned out to be both. The owner, Tony, is an Englishman and a motorcycle enthusiast. He is also the "Senior Amateur Motocross Champion" from 2006-present, which i suppose makes him the oldest and newest in the sport. He is a delightful man and looks not unlike my Uncle Rummy. He is shirtless and smoking with a potbelly and a touch of sunburn. He instructs us to have dinner at the Dolores River Brewery. We shower and prepare to head over. But not before a half hour conversation with my entire Kraft Fam, who is all together and having a blast on the fourth of july weekend. Sniff sniff. It's hard when your family is the best.
The brewery is funky and fun. Filled with young folks who have just gotten back from a climbing, hiking or fishing. Now that we are in Colorado, it seems that everyone is an adventure junky with a beard and a tan. The beer is great. There is a cat that belongs to the bar wandering around. Children are playing in the grass. Rich kids in their twenties are dressed like Ralph Lauren designed a line just for organic farming.
Johnny and Matty arrive not long after and join us for beer. We have not yet really had a night on the town together. Most nights, our idea of a party is sharing an avocado at a picnic table while smacking horse flies off our heads. Johnny buys us all more beer than we know what to do with. We play trivial pursuit and meet some people that are in town to climb. Matty, after two beers, delights us with an impersonation of one of his female inner city students, complete with sassy hand waving. Things devolve quickly when Johnny tries to prove his man strength and lifts Chris and I at the same time. Matty, in his great wisdom, retired to his tent and we moved on to the other bar. (The only other bar.)
Let's just say that the "Hollywood Bar" is sadly lacking in glamour. Much like bars in the ski towns in New York, the crowd is divided into toothless locals on Harley's and rich kids on vacation. Johnny orders shots and dances with both groups. I chat up some local dudes who refer to the next pass we must cycle as "totally gnarly". Great.
After I see the situation going to pot, I turn my bike lights on and cruised to my little slice of RV park. This was the best part of my day. Big fat street with two bikes lanes. No traffic, street lights. Just stars and the sound of a river. I could never live here, unless I wanted to work at the whole foods grocery store. But for one night, pretending I do is a real treat.