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Sunday, June 21, 2009

Just visiting friends.

OKay--so the conversation went like this:

Me: "Do you know how to get from Granby to Fort Collins?" We were going to visit friends.

Mate: "Yeah-- Google maps says just to get on 34, and it'll take us there."

Me: "Okay--I'll drive--I mean, the road couldn't possibly be any worse than the one from Denver to Granby, right?"

Okay. Someone out there KNOWS what Highway 34 is. Someone out there is LAUGHING HER ASS OFF at this conversation. For the uninitiated, may I present Highway 34 from Granby to Estes Park, Colorado.

You may notice, that this road climbs over TWELVE THOUSAND FEET and has NO GUARD RAILS. Yup, folks--click some of those pictures, and rest assured I was not a happy camper behind the wheel of a car that was just a freaky-assed twitch of the wheel between Mate and I and 12,000 feet of screaming death. Since we didn't bring our Star Trek re-entry suits with us, my only hope was that the air was so thin, we'd pass out before we hit bottom. Seriously--there was one rise, from the visitor's center to the absolute peak of the mountain, where I almost broke into tears--because the curve just seemed to hover out in mid-air, and hello, did I mention the lack of anything resembling a guard rail? Did I mention the snow banked up on the sides of the road? Did I mention we were LOOKING DOWN AT THE GODDAMNED BIRDS? I told Mate to take lots of pictures for later, but I refused to look around. At one point, there was a little hike (in the non-existent oxygen, no less) to a better view.

"Do you want to go?" Mate asked.

"No." Just no. I knew if I actually LOOKED AROUND, they'd have to airlift me back to civilization, and that's the Goddess' honest truth. As it was, you'd have to pump me full of valium and strap me to the back seat with a drool bag and color crayons before you got me in the car and up that trail again.

Parting shot?

"Hey," said Mate, "I wonder if this is called 'Rainbow Curve' because when you look out over the canyon, you can see a Rainbow."

"No," I said grimly, my knuckles white on the steering wheel, "I think it's called 'Rainbow Curve' because it's in the SHAPE OF A FUCKING RAINBOW AS IT HUGS THE MOUNTAIN."

Mate checked the map. "You know, I think you're right."

Oi. Needless to say, we took the long route around Boulder coming home in the dark.

7 comments:

Galad said...

Thanks for the showing why I clearly do not want to drive that road! I get white knuckles going up much smaller elevations than that.

Glad to hear you arrived safely :-)

Roxie said...

Oh darling girl! That's the sort of driving that can age you quickly. And just think - there are truckdrivers who make that run several times a week.

Did you feel your anal sphincter clutching at the seatcovers on some of those turns? Were there local yahoos riding your bumper because you just weren't going that extra five miles an hour they knew the curve would bear before your wheels lost traction? And how long did it take to uncurl your fingers from the wheel? You poor dear!

Is it worse to drive or be a passenger on a fright trip like this?

Galad's gallant daughter said...

Oh my god I totally forgot to tell you to go to My Sister Knits in Fort Collins. It is the most amazing little yarn shop. I absolutely love it. The one in Boulder is awesome too. Its huge. I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner. Sorry.

Louiz said...

Yikes! Glad you survived in one piece

TinkingBell said...

Sounds like a fun drive! Take care on the driving - stay off the wine!

KnitTech said...

You have to take drives like that every once in a while. It keeps you young!

Donna Lee said...

You are making my heart beat quicker in fear just reading this. I am not a person who does heights well. I think I would have cried.