There was a lot to love about Telluride. I realized this when we made the decision to stay there three nights instead of two. Upon arrival, I was fully prepared to write the town off as a resort for rich Coloradans and Texans, but we learned that it was more than that. It WAS certainly a resort town, make no mistake, but one that we could exist in affordably and relaxedly without feeling too out of place. We rode the free gondola late at night and surreptitiously drank inexpensive stout from our water bottles while strolling through the deserted streets of Mountain Village, we day-hiked to the falls in Bear Creek Canyon, and we drank lots of coffee while sitting in the bakery or the coffee shop or the library (sans coffee for that last one); in short, it was like living in a miniature Portland, except it rained more in the summer and we lived in a tent on the edge of town.
Many people poured into town as we prepared to leave in anticipation of a large mountain bike race happening this weekend. We met Richie, who was looking for a place to set up his tent, and we explained that while we occupied the site, there were plenty of places to pitch camp in the wooded walk-in area of the park, and there was a free parking space where our car would be, if we had one. He happily obliged and we spoke together about living in Boulder and adventuring in this great state between shifts.
We broke fast at the coffee shop on the main street this morning and sat on the sidewalk with less expensive fare from the bakery down the street. I found half an earwig in my peach, and then I found the other half, but fortunately it was all inside the pit and the meat of the fruit was still good. Tiny birds fearlessly approached us as we sat cross-legged on the pavement and snatched up our crumbs from the baguette with honey. I happened across a full take-out box of chicken and potatoes with a few cookies wrapped in napkins, and tried to figure out the state of mind one would need to be in to discard a full meal's worth of leftovers into the waste bin as this person had apparently done. Then again, I'm the kind of guy who notices take-out containers in waste bins, so maybe I'm not speaking from a high moral authority either. I'll leave that up to the discernment of the reader; free food, however, is free food, kind of like the shot of Bailey's that someone ordered into their to-go coffee before realizing that the coffee shop couldn't make that kind of drink to-go, and when the disheartened patron asked the entirety of the shop if anyone wanted the spare shot, I volunteered. Free things need to be taken before the moment passes.
We cruised out of town on the highway to Placerville, riding through some mud-turned-dust that had sludged into the road in the past few days' rainfall. There was just enough there for me to feel nervous about my traction, and I pictured myself flying from the bicycle as tires lost their grip on the road, but nothing came of this and we proceeded on through the humorously named town of Sawpit, population 25.
We waited our turn to pass through a blasting and construction zone before turning onto the highway to Ridgway. A trucker noticed us on the shoulder preparing to climb over the divide and offered us two ice-cold bottles of name brand water, which we gladly accepted. Even in cool mountain air, our water bottles often gather the sun's heat early in the day, leaving them tepid and unsatisfying though no less good for our bodies. Cold water makes a difference to the brain, however, and we bolstered our morale with the kindness of a passing strnager on sixteen wheels.
The climb was gradual compared to other passes we have crossed, and we were happy to sail into Ridgway with minimal effort expended. The town park was busily blanketed with tents and people for some kind of festival while clouds threatened behind us, so we bought groceries and stopped only at the library for bathrooms and used books before beating the storms to the state park.
We are camped out on the hillside across the Uncomphagre River from most of the park, below the dam wall of piled stone that holds the reservoir at bay, so to speak. We pitched camp early after a 40-something mile ride and have been ducking out of thunderstorms all afternoon. It's nice to have a tent in situations like these. Adele resourcefully made a fire from downed wood and we heated our tins of ravioli and steamed some broccoli for a filling dinner. Crickets now chirp in the distance and we'll retire early to prepare for a longer day so we can reach National Forest land again for more free camping.
I am still thinking about a sandwich I saw in the waste bin earlier, though. I should have grabbed it.
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