A twenty mile loop

Four and a half miles from my house, at the end of a faux plat that begins when I turn left at my mail box, the road turns south and begins snaking up.  It begins as innocuous 26th Street.  Bott Park, sometimes Butt Park if someone has dark green paint for the sign, passes on the left amid the fringe of century old ranch homes, last vestige of Old Colorado City.  A white horse fence on the right and, behind it, the looming red rock formations of Section 16. 

The rider’s eyes are pulled  towards the hairpin ahead.  The grade of the road stiffened to 10 percent past Bott Park, but has eased to 6% here.  After the hairpin is a false flat and then a ramp to the crest of 10 percent. 

Cheyenne Mountain takes over the view at the crest of the hill.  Dull green with juniper and pinon, it sets a clean, falling line to the horizon.  The road ahead dives into Bear Creek Park, but the rider turns right onto Upper Gold Camp Road.  He doesn’t want to pay for descending right now; the road continues up past Bear Creek and he clings to the side of the rock and continues the climb. 

Some wealthy people have built too-large homes overlooking Colorado Springs, driveways poke into both sides of the road before it breaks free and squeezes between two rocks.  Now there is just the occasional run-away descending cyclist or distracted motorist looking down at the Broadmoor.  Twice I’ve seen the small black ribbon tied to a juniper, marking the spot where Ed Burke, a published author on cycling health and local rider in the Springs, died of heart attack while riding his bike back in 2002. 

The paved road ends and usually the rider turns here and speeds back down.  Today he decides to continue on the dirt and descend past Helen Hunt Falls.  He hasn’t done this before, there was always a good reason not to ride on the dirt and he doesn’t know how far the road continues.  Riding an unpaved road isn’t so difficult, unless the road climbs past ten percent; he doesn’t know if it does or not.

A mile into the dirt section, the first of two tunnels.  The other end is visible and there’s just a car going by raising the dust a bit.  The road becomes soft inside, sheltered from rain, almost powder.  The second tunnel is much the same, rough and old like the first, and the cool air inside contrasts with the hot Colorado air outside.

At three miles past the pavement there is a parking lot, a sign telling visitors to respect the p lace and each other and the top of the paved road coming up from Cheyenne Canyon.  Tall ponderosa pines, rough red rock, the pleasant tinge of sun-warmed juniper and, soon, the rush of water from Helen Hunt Falls.  Just a few miles from the city, but I roll down the hill in an elemental wonder land.