Greenwood Village, Colorado to Williston, Vermont. Sunday- Friday, July 21-26, 2024
It was a quick ride to the third couple to host me in the Denver area, who would prefer I didn’t use their names. He is a retired neurologist and Colorado native, also an avid fly fisherman and llama wrangler, who has a herd of about 60 of these beautiful animals, he took me to his ranch in Larkspur.
I’ve known his wife for 57 years, we went to high school together and both were in college in Cambridge, both pursued careers in medicine. Although we live far apart, we have shared so many of life’s experiences and had so much to talk about. Visiting with them was the pièce de résistance of my journey, the cherry on top of the dessert that was Denver.
It was over all too soon. I got to finish with a flourish: the Cherry Creek Trail, which sets the standard for bike paths. Beautifully paved, it follows the creek on a gentle downhill from the leafy suburbs to the heart of downtown Denver with nary a street crossing, completely protected from all that traffic. I was at Union Station in a flash.
I chose the train rather than flying, much easier to take an unboxed bike, far less carbon impact, and the romance of riding the rails has always appealed to me, especially in a sleeper car. It takes longer, but I’ve got the time. A six hour layover in Chicago gave me another look at the Windy City, such a contrast to the months of the Wild West.
My God, am I really that old? I first became aware of Grant Wood’s American Gothic in a 1963 ad for New Country Corn Flakes. https://youtu.be/OKSmj2g8shs
So that was the trifecta of classics I came to see at the Art Institute, but you always find hidden nuggets. I knew this disturbing work, The Rock, was by Peter Blume,
Since it resembled his creepy Tasso’s Oak
which affected me so deeply I sought out the Oak itself, on the Janiculum Hill in Rome on our trip to Italy in 2022.
under which the Renaissance poet Torquato Tasso spent the last year of his life waiting in vain for the pope to recognize him as poet laureate, and slowly going mad.
Other nuggets were evocative of BFF Brian’s local mountain, Mount Equinox
and one of his wife Mary’s favorite paintings by Mary Cassatt.
Back at the station, I saw that Steve Goodman/Arlo Guthrie weren’t just blowing smoke, there really is a train they call the City of New Orleans.
So much more to see, so little time. What a sublime, refined coda to my three months of the rugged outdoors, a closure of sorts. I feel I am really done. I have, in three stages, cycled across the country, from the Atlantic to the Pacific. I didn’t reach any new highpoints this time, but I’ve sea-to-summited 26* of them, out of 37 total. I’ll get the last 13, but no longer feel the need to do these solely under human power, from the sea. I hope to post an epilogue soon, reflecting on the full experience.
I’ve visited family and many friends, old and new. I’ve been blessed by trail angels and Easter eggs, almost beyond counting. I’ve watched the tapestry of our nation roll by in slow motion, gaining new perspectives on scenes of exquisite beauty. I’ve seen, almost without exception, that folks are basically decent and caring. So reassuring, in these times of strife and polarization. I’ve lost 35 pounds, and never felt healthier. To use Simon and Garfunkel’s overworked lyric, I’ve come to look for America. It’s there, and it’s doing OK.
And that will be enough.
Distance 50 miles, 3,156 total. Time 10 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,503 feet
©️ 2024 Scott Luria
*I know, at Mt. Elbert I said the total was 24. But I realized I could cobble together a series of rides and hikes that put Mount Mitchell and Clingmans Dome, the highpoints of North Carolina and Tennessee, also in that category. So I’ve done half of the state highpoints from sea-to-summit.
The Ends of the Earth 