Day 3: Fort Collins, CO - Kremmling, CO

Q: Where d'you think you've been, coming in at this time of night?
A: I've been out Kremmling, Mum!

Not history's most restful night, with the jet-lag catching up and next-door's air-con playing a one-note bass solo that even the most lo-fi of punks would have sneered at.  And thus unrested it's back to the hills.  South down I-25 and turn off at Loveland (confusingly, Loveland is nowhere near Loveland Pass) and pick up US-34 to take me and the Mudstang into Rocky Mountain National Park (hereinafter abbreviated to "RoMo¹").  This passes through the Big Thompson Canyon, presumably named after some outsize explorer of the nineteenth century, and past the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, which served as a model for the Overlook in "The Shining".  It's haunted, y'know.  Here is the Big Thompson Canyon:

Big Thompson was out when we called...

Paid my twenty dollars for the privet hedge of being held up through RoMo by selfish gits riding tractors Harleys.  I know they're not renowned for their handling but any bike that needs three steering corrections in the course of one twenty mile per hour corner needs to be sent to the camps for re-education.  I bailed at the Alpine Visitor Center (sic) for an urgent transfusion of coffee and CAIK.

Down a couple of thousand feet and a couple more tractors to where the Mighty Colorado becomes accessible to the public without waterproof clothing, map and compass, first-aid kit, high-energy food, water and something to frighten off the BEARS.  Auntie Charlotte is busy at the moment.

Paris, 2007: Auntie Charlotte keeping our campsite free from BEARS

Anyway, the possibly-furthest-upstream bridge across the Mighty Colorado looks very much like this:

And the Mighty Colorado with my feet in it looks very much like this:

in the mitey colorado which is joly freezing

Close to one of the Several of bridges surveyed today was this pair of right chancers:

Majestic Møøse, yesterday

Look at 'em, just snacking away on the flora like that, eh?

While attempting to photograph the next bridge downstream from the Majestic Møøse I began to feel distinctly wobbly.  Whether this had anything to do with the altitude I know not - I'd been OK yesterday and earlier today rather higher up - but I decided that further bridge-related capers should be shelved in favour of finding somewhere quiet to lie down.  This explains why I am in a slightly down-at-heel Super 8 in Kremmling nursing a cup of Tea.  But at least I have Proper Milk to put in my brew, so it no longer tastes foul due to the presence of "non-dairy whitener".  I am hoping that the diminution of altitude, an early night and Tea will sort things out.

Bah!

On televisions:  Televisions of USAnia, let us get one thing straight.  I am in charge.  Not you.  So if it turns out that the only way to put you to sleep is to pull the plug out of the wall, consider yourself lucky that the motel in question did not have a swimming pool.  Also, changing channels when I press the button on the remote would be a plus.

1 - They came for the RoMos, I laughed