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We opt to drive the 19 miles to the 14,110 foot summit. Why?
Because we are very brave. Ummhmm. As we buy our pass to ride the Pikes Peak toll road, I
feel a twitch of anxiety. 'Drive slowly, drive in second gear going
up and first coming down' are the instructions from the toll taker.
He hands us a Pikes Peak informational brochure with more warnings:
You will probably get hypoxia. What this means is that oxygen gets short
at high altitudes, so you may get shortness of breath, headaches, nausea,
or you may vomit, get disoriented, fatigued and have disturbed sleep.
Sounds like a blast. When do we start?
As we ride up the hill, I immediately forget the warnings. The road
is surrounded by exquisite forests of evergreens, ground bushes and mountain
grass.
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We stop for a stretch at Crystal Reservoir,
which is encircled by 13.5 miles of
red dirt shoreline. A short hike from the Visitors Center, and
we're right next to the water; it's completely 'see-through'.
I
touch it, thinking it will be icy cold, but it's surprisingly cool.
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A few fishermen are resting picturesquely with their straw hats tilted
over their faces. Except for the sound of the water slapping gently
against the shore, the only sound is silence - an oxymoron, I
know.
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Another respite on the way is
Catamount Reservoir.
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Continuing on, the highway winds up the mountain through five life cycles,
which means that as we ascend in elevation, the environment, the habitat and
the scenery change - five times!
As we near the top, Dub is beginning to get the forewarned headache and I
am feeling a little light-headed. I'm glad the traffic moves slowly
because the road is narrow and winding, and there are no guard rails. If I look
over - which I do occasionally and quickly look back - I see only the drop
off thousands of feet below - frightening to say the least. (You notice
there are no pictures - sorry, no stops scheduled; we plan
to get off this ledge as soon as possible!)
At the top it is very foggy
and we experience a strange sensation. Our scalps feel
as though hundreds of worms are wriggling around trying to get
comfy. We slap our heads, but there are no worms, just heavy
moisture settling into our locks like a heavy cap.
We wait around for
awhile hoping it will clear and visit a plaque honoring Kathleen Bates
who was so inspired on her first visit to Pikes' Peak
that she wrote and gave us the beautiful song,
America The Beautiful. |
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| On a really clear day
you can see Kansas, New Mexico, the Continental Divide
and the Rockies.
The fog has lifted
slightly. At least the 'worms' are calm.
Now our only thought is that we have to
drive back down. And then...we'll be thinking
about the next time. Really. It's that
beautiful. |
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