Day 3 - Record Intact...Another Failure

Lamar, CO to Cheyenne, WY - 299 Miles
September 8, 2013

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Woke to bright sunshine and a watch that said 7:01am.  Thought something was wrong until I realized that it was only 6:01am and that sun out there was up only because I was in the eastern end of this time zone.  But I was up so I read a little and killed some time.  My intention was to visit the  Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site and I figured they wouldn't be open until 09:00 so there was no hurry. 

After a nice breakfast, I gassed up and headed out following my trusty Garmin GPS.  I have a new one, that old lying s.o.b. I had before gave up the ghost before I made him one myself.  (Must be the unit, couldn't possibly be me.)

This area is high plains.  Miles and miles of miles and miles; mostly in the process of producing something from the land.  Boring, until you consider their shear vastness.  In their own way they are as majestic as the Grand Canyon.

One of my favorite things is lots of road with no one on it but me.  I love to hog the miles and miles and Colorado is one of the best places in the country to find such opportunities.

                         Looking south 

Looking north

 Beautiful day, huh?

I'm always amazed at the things you run into on these rides.  Riding merrily along, contemplating the middle east and North Korean problems, and wondering about the next Oracle EBS Release...YEAH RIGHT!  Enjoying the cool morning and Betsy's throaty rhythmic metronome I looked up and saw a car on top of a silo.  Yes, I did.

A rather meager attempt if the goal was to emulate "Carhenge" in Alliance, Neb.
(From White States Ride 2007: Carhenge)

Okay, now for the disappointment.  As noted, my intent was to visit the Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site.  For the non-history buffs among us, this was the site of the massacre of between 70 and 163 Cheyenne and Arapaho, most of them women and children, along Sand Creek in southeastern Colorado on 29 Nov. 1864.  The raid was led by Col. John Chivington a Methodist minister cum Colorado Volunteer Army Colonel.  His relish for the latter led to his "location" (read: firing) from the former.  Among his most confusing contradictions was his zeal as an abolitionist and his hatred of the native Americans.  (My opinion: he was overly proud, arrogant, and ambitious...traits shared by many today.  Like Pat Robertson, evidently Chivington's Bible had only nine commandments too.)  But, as so many, he was politically astute and knew how to rabble-rouse.  At least until he couldn't fool anyone any more.  His political life essentially died after he seduced, then married his dead son's wife.  Who latter divorced him for non-support.  Nice guy, what?

All of the above is to provide background for my inability to get to the Sand Creek Massacre National Site.  The below map will illustrate my problem.

This section is from my GPS trip planner for the visit to Sand Creek.  What this, nor mapquest, nor Google earth will tell you is that little blip up from Hwy96 to the site is eight (8) miles of unpaved, sand and gravel road with the consistency of a No. 4 washboard.  I rode about a mile of it and recognized that Betsy would have zero tightened screws and bolts, and I would have zero fully attached teeth in my head if I continued.  I didn't.  It's pretty obvious that the State of Colorado is justly embarrassed by this particular moment in their history and isn't about to provide decent egress into the facility that exists primarily to point out one of the darkest moments of their history.  Just as an aside, there is a town named after Chivington just past that first "96" marker on the map and it is dead as he is.

Disappointed, I soldier on heading north into Wyoming.  Weather reports indicate some Canadian air coming over the next couple of days, something to be embraced.  However, that also means rain and let me tell you, when it rains out here around the mountains, it rains.  I turn westward toward Greely then north to Cheyenne on Hwy85 avoiding all but a short span of slab (Interstate).  It turned into a race.

 

Off to my left as I head up Hwy85, apparently almost directly over I-25 running parallel to me I see this.  You can't tell from this distance, but I can just about guarantee you it's strangling frogs over there.  Not interested in such things, I pull into Cheyenne and park it for the day.

Day 2 - Blanco Canyon

Abilene, TX to Lamar, CO - 511 miles
September, 7 2013

 

As usual on my rides I wake up the rooster and lay in bed waiting for the sun to make its appearance.  On the road with a light motel breakfast by 7:15am motoring almost due north.  Couple of hours later I'm approaching Crosbyton, TX just east of Lubbock.  When you say Lubbock to me I think of cotton fields...immediately after flashing on Buddy Holly, Waylon Jennings, and Lloyd Maines...and flat land.  But it's not.  Like the grand canyon it gets "hilly" downward.

 

About twenty miles from Crosbyton I see my first "down."  It's called "Putoff Canyon" after an early settler.  It was known for its abundant fresh water "strong enough to swim a horse."

Further on you start to see where the water runoff that created Putoff Canyon has joined with a larger stream to form yet a larger canyon.  This is Blanco Canyon.

Dry now due to pumping, the fame of the canyon comes from the White River water and considerable timber, scarce in the area, which grew here into the 20th century.




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In the 1990s it was confirmed that Spanish Conquistador Francisco Coronado camped here twice in the spring of 1541.  He was, I supposed, busy losing horses,  It's amazing to me how quickly the horses multiplied after the early Spanish reintroduced them to this continent.  It certainly changed the lives of the Plains Indians tribes.

It's the Plains Indians we're interested in...specifically at this stop, the Comanches.  It was here in 1871 that Col. Ranald Mackenzie led his San Angelo-based troops.  The battle fought here barely deserves the name "battle."  Mackenzie lost one trooper and reports indicate a couple of Comanches were killed.  But the significance of the encounter is it was the first real move against the Comanches after the Civil War.  Setting up a supply camp at the mouth of the canyon Mackenzie essentially served notice that the war was on.  Three years later he caught the Comanche, Kiowa, and some Cheyenne north of here in Palo Duro Canyon.  He captured their entire herd of horses (some 1100) and destroyed their tents and supplies...in September, just before winter set it.  It forced them into reservations to survive.

An interesting note, at least to me, is Mackenzie seems to be able to get a lot accomplished with  few casualties.  He lost one man at Blanco Canyon and one at Palo Duro.

It's just open farm country now, only pretty when you are in it and can see the fertility and richness of the land, and the wide open spaces.  But, at one time, it was where cultures clashed.  For any looking for some great sympathetic treatment of the "noble" Redman you'll have to look somewhere else.  The white man came here and took the land from the Comanche and Kiowa.  They'd taken it from the Apache.  I can determine no fine distinction in the result.

But, time's a-wasting so I head north with the intention of revisiting Palo Duro Canyon.  I made a trip there back in 2009 because it always intrigued me.  But it got so hot by the time I was fairly near I decided to move on north looking for relief.  Didn't get it, though.  But I ate miles of road until  reaching Lamar, Colorado about 5:30pm (our time...they're "behind" us you know).

Took one of those "road showers" I harp about so much.  Seriously, one day I will write the definitive "Ode to the Road Shower."  It will be in iambic pentameter and explain, as only poetry can, how absolutely wonderful a long, drenching shower can feel after 8-10 on the road on the back of a motorcycle.

Day 1 - Good Friends, Great Meal

Spring, TX to Abilene, TX  - 336 Miles
September 6, 2013

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Best laid plans and all that, I was going to leave early to avoid as much of the afternoon heat as I could...didn't work out that way.  I was late picking up drugs (that's prescriptions in geriatric terms) and then I discovered the batteries for my signal booster for my Sirius radio audio were toast.  Ever tried to find AAAA batteries early in the morning?  Going without was an unacceptable option.   Without that booster one can't hear Outlaw Country and the Blue channels at 80 m.p.h.  Thank God for Ace Hardware...they had 'em though it took twenty minutes to find them.  They are itsy-witsy little rascals, you know.

But I got out finally heading up Hwy290 to Hwy36 and then on into Abilene to visit my good friends the Criders.  I never miss an opportunity to stop by and visit with them.

How hot was it?  Near the Crider's home is a large dip down to a small dry creek crossing.  As I crossed the bridge I noticed a very large rattlesnake skin that had, obviously, been shed very recently.  As I wondered how big the thing was now, and where it was, I saw movement on the side of the road.  There, just off the side was the largest rattlesnake I've ever seen; totally nude and sitting in a chaise lounge with an ice-cold coke.  That's how hot it was.  I had little Emma's rapt attention as I related this story to the wonderful little 7-year-old. 

We went to this great little restaurant called the Copper Creek for dinner.  The food was quite good and WT's came with a Poblano Pepper Mac and Cheese that is absolutely to die for.  I'm going to figure out that recipe when I get home...cardiologist be damned.

Heading Out Again

Betsy and I are pulling out in the morning for points west.  Current plans are to bear northwestward ultimately to Montana, visiting scenic and historic sites en route.  I hopefully plan to have a lot of pictures and commentary, assuming, of course, I can stay awake long enough to provide updates.