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There were two class-5 rapids, and several class 3 and 4. The water was reportedly running much higher than last summer, but down from its peak of two weeks ago. Still, it was quite the adventure, and a first time for most of us. The rest of the day was pretty dull - laundry, cleaning the bike, wandering around on foot, looking for a bank (found one) and a bookstore (didn't). This part of Pueblo is an endless succession of strip-malls, chain stores, and chain restaurants, isolated from each other by parking lots. There are wide sidewalks, but no one walks in this area, because no one lives here - they all drive here from somewhere else. The weather system that's been dogging the east coast has finally moved west, and we got a drenching thunderstorm about the time I was looking for dinner. My usual dinner companions had already (finally?) left the bar, and I ended up eating alone in the deserted hotel restaurant. I'm normally something of a loner, but I've gotten really used to having people around, so it was kind of a downer. Even more of a downer was finding out that my old college friend and housemate Strider died last night. We hadn't been in close touch for many years, but we hadn't been really out of touch either. Strider was a relentless traveller, and probably knew more about Pueblo than I ever will. He made friends easily, and had a really lively spunk. That's the Strider I remember. Damn. |
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In the morning, a bunch of us went white-water rafting. We drove back
to Cañon City, and rafted a 10-mile section of the Arkansas River,
through the Royal Gorge, under the tallest suspension bridge in the
world. (We could have biked across it yesterday, but Andy has this
thing about heights.)