JFK to Denver, ColoradoOct 13, 2004
|
|
| DAY 8 (Wed 13th Oct) Up at 4 am to catch the 7am flight to Denver. I used to be good at early mornings, but not so much now. En route, I looked back at my time in New York. It's a fascinating place, with a tremendously vital pulse, but as with most cities, the inhabitants are focussed on their own lives, and don't have so much time for visitors. I was fascinated by the place, but my heart lies in open spaces and a slower pace of life. Getting out of the airport at Denver I certainly got my open spaces. We were to the east of the city, which itself is to the east of the Rockies, in the foothills. The Great Plains stretch hundreds of miles to the East virtually flat and featureless, and then suddenly the Rockies rear up to over 14,000 feet. Look one way and there is nothing to catch the eye, look the other way and there is this massive snow-covered barrier. It must have been heart-breaking to the first settlers trying to make their way west to realise that they had to go over the top. Made my way slowly to Laramie in Wyoming, using back roads along the edge of the mountains. I realised the extent of the change of place I had experienced in the last few hours when I was talking to the deli-man making my sandwich, and we discussed quite calmly the precautions that need to be taken with the bears and the mountain lions that are prone to visit back yards after dark. Normal to him, extraodinary to me. Another indication of the wildness of the area, signs by the side of the road saying "In case of flood, climb to safety"! Along the sides of the roads are signs saying "Adopt a Highway" and local groups, organisations or businesses adopt a mile or two of road and make regular visits to keep it clear of litter. Bob in Rochester told me a story about an area where the Ku Klux Klan were trying to be a little more than their normal selves, and asked the local council if they could adopt a stretch, and have their names up as model citizens. The council was horrified when their legal advisors told them that they were powerless to stop this happening, and would in fact be illegal to try to stop it. Faced with the ineveitable, they had to think of something different. Instead, they re-named the stretch of highway with the name of a prominent early anti-segregation leader. I think that ended up about deuce, don't you? Checking into my motel, the car behind me had a large trailer with the sign "John's Poisonous Snake Shows". I'm glad to say that there was no gap at the bottom of my bedroom door that night! |
Advertisement 
|
