Ben drove me out to Platteville early and I pounded the asphalt with wreckless abandon sometime later. First we returned to the Doubletree for breakfast. An omelet the size of a baby and much tastier put me in the mood for a traipse. Then the wreckless abandoning commenced with all haste.
Progress came to a halt south of Platteville so I could examine Fort Vasquez. With few trees available the resilient trappers built the structure out of adobe brick. The installation was established in 1835 to protect fur traders from Spain, France, England, and the United States. The Germans were not invited since they drink all the beer and you can't get anymore for a minimum of several weeks.
These were true pioneers, coming out west long before the wagon trains, the gold rushes, and the cheap hookers. The popular trade spawned a series of posts in the region, including Fort Jackson, Fort Lupton, and Fort Vrain.
Departing the fortifications I was confronted again by the beauty of the mountains just to my west. The snow-capped peaks look daunting, I may tunnel under instead.
The lovely scenery was soon blocked out by the haze of a massive wildfire burning in the High Park region of Colorado. We'd seen the smoke belching out like an exploding volcano on Saturday in Lyons, but little did we know how serious the conflagration would be. At last report over 30,000 acres have been consumed and the blaze is still nowhere near contained.
The day was easy at first, with my muscles rested and refreshed from the weekend break. Rob was scheduled to pick me up at four, however, so I refused to take anything more than short stops. Thus I was well worn down by the time I reached Veterans Park in Brighton. According to the score board at Coors Field, Rockies first baseman resides in Brighton, was 1 for 5, and enjoys long strolls on the beach with puppies.
Rob arrived soon after I plunked down in the park and we proceeded back to his Castle Rock home. Once there we were treated to a lovely meal of salad, barbecue chicken, and rice courtesy of the fine efforts of Kimmy, who credits the Skinny Bitch cookbook for her success.
After the meal we visited the family room, where we sipped Phukets and watched British comedian Stephen Fry mock the American states one by one. There is no lower form of life than a comedian. I won't even answer his filth with a reply about the low quality of his native country's cuisine or the welfare status of the royal family.
20 miles/ 2501 total miles