Part 3: Riding Through Autumn Splendor in the Rocky Mountains—Campfire by a River

By Frosty Wooldridge

Part 3: The magic of a campfire
 
With pictures and video rolling, we engaged “gravity-power” for the next seven miles down the west side of Loveland Pass.  What a wild ride through mountain tundra, brilliant colors, and extravagant canyons that sucked the breath out of us with their vacant expanses.  At the lower levels, pines and aspens once again gathered their numbers along the route.  Gold shined and green beckoned.
 

(Robert Montgomery, Robert Case astride their bikes admiring the endless arrangements of flowers in Frisco, Colorado, home of Buckhorn Cafe and Bakery.)  Photography by Frosty Wooldridge

After a long pedal up a pass, every cell in my body delights to the “soaring feeling” across the sky on my asphalt magic carpet.   I swear that every blood cell races around cheering that it’s given a break from transporting oxygen and food to every muscle cell during the climb. Every cell cheers, “Thanks for the break from the grind.”    But every cell in my eyes whether going up or down, says, “Wow, can’t beat the visuals!”  Of course, my hair and fingernail cells don’t care because they get a free ride no matter what.
 
At the bottom, we rolled through Keystone Ski Resort.  In the summer, it’s pretty much a ghost town.  Multiple millions of dollars in homes and condos stand vacant.
 
We rolled along Dillon Lake in Summit County until we arrived at the dam crossing.  We turned left toward Frisco.  We ate lunch at the Buckhorn Café and Bakery.
 
“Oh, good grief,” Robert Montgomery said.  “These pancakes are to die for and then, live again.  I want to dominate these pancakes!”
 
“Eat them all and slurp up the syrup,” I said.
 
“I’m lovin’ the omelet,” said Robert Case.  “These hash browns and toast aren’t bad, either.  I think I could live here to eat forever.”
 
After lunch, we lingered around Frisco taking pictures of flower displays, sculptures, museums and added some people watching.

(The bicycle view coasting down the endlessly curvy road coming off Loveland Pass.  It’s like you dig right into the very essence of the mountains’ grand parade.  The mountains become you and you become the mountains.  You’re so exposed to their dynamic energy while powering your bike through their kingdom.)  Photography by Frosty Wooldridge
Later in the day, we rolled up “10 Mile Creek” along a river toward Copper Mountain Ski Resort, which presented us with the gateway to Vail Pass.
 
“It’s getting late in the day,” Robert Case said. “Where are we going to camp?”
 
Robert Montgomery said, “The perfect answer will reveal itself as to the perfect campsite.”
 
“Gees, I’m traveling with Buddhist monks and wise yogi’s of the Sufi persuasion,” I said.  “Let the journey continue.”
 
We cranked our iron-steeds onto the bicycle path following a river toward Copper Mountain.  The path proved incredibly beautiful with underbrush coloring everything of the rainbow and more.  We rolled the bikes under massive peaks with vacant canyons still holding snow from the winter before.
 
As we headed into the later afternoon shadows, we stopped at a convenience store at the top of the canyon. The boy said to roll the bikes up the river on the bike path for another mile to find a fantastic campground.
 
“Let’s do it,” Robert Case said.
 
We pedaled over the river and along the route the kid told us about.  Very quickly, we dropped the bikes down a deep embankment to the river’s edge. Perfect campsite: revealed.
 

(Robert Montgomery standing by his tent near the river’s edge. Nothing like taking your shoes off to dip your toes into an icy stream.)  Photography by Frosty Wooldridge

We discovered  ample dry wood with a slow moving river playing its magical music beside us and three spots for tents.  I pulled off my shoes and dipped my feet into the icy stream.   
 
“Life doesn’t get any better than this,” I said.
 
“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.  I am haunted by waters.”  ― Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It
 
We pitched camp.  Set up the woodpile.  Broke out the campstools.  Opened the cooking pots.  Fired up the stoves.
 
As the sun blazed through the golden aspen trees surrounding us, we cooked up “Veggie Bowl Burritos”; “Pasta-primavera”  and “Himalayan Rice and Beans.”
 

(Imagine you just filled your stomach with hot chocolate, hot food and raspberry crunch dessert.  Imagine touching the kindling with a match to light the evening campfire.  Imagine sitting with your friends around the flickering flames licking the night air.  Imagine a billion stars twinkling in the ceiling above you.  Instead of imagining–simply take your own adventure and walk into your own dream.) Photography by Frosty Wooldridge

Later, as the darkness fell upon us, we started the fire. It blazed brightly into the evening air. Smoke curled toward a starlit sky. Above us, mountain summits profiled against the night sky. The Big Dipper brushed against the peaks.
 
Sitting there with my friends, I listened to the fire crackling, but later, it quieted. In the silence, the rushing white-water remade its presence on our ears.  We sat there staring into the fire.  Nothing much to say, but watch the embers glowing, ebbing and pulsing like they lived vibrant lives of their own if only for an instant. I couldn’t help noticing our special place among the forest creatures.
 
My friend John Muir said, “Man must be made conscious of his origin as a child of Nature. Brought into right relationship with the wilderness he would see that he was not a separate entity endowed with a divine right to subdue his fellow creatures and destroy the common heritage, but rather an integral part of a harmonious whole. He would see that his appropriation of earth’s resources beyond his personal needs would only bring imbalance and beget ultimate loss and poverty for all.”
 
I hope each one of us humans in the 21st century understands Muir’s wisdom as to water, energy, resources and the deadly plague of plastics. They accumulate everywhere in the world and destroy every eco system where they arrive.
 
Because, to me, to enjoy that pristine spot in the woods by that river should be the legacy all of us leave for future generations.  Too often, I find humans toss their trash everywhere and anywhere, and without any thought to the consequences Muir addresses.
 
As for me, I will continue to pick up trash, stand up for Nature and do my best to help my fellow man become enlightened as to his/her responsibilities to the natural world.

 (The river that ran through our campsite.)  Photography by Frosty Woodridge

“Well boys,” Robert Case said.  “I’m bushed.  Looks like the sleeping bag for me.”
 
“Right with you,” Robert Montgomery said.  “Good night gentlemen.”
 
John Muir said, “Everything is flowing — going somewhere, animals and so-called lifeless rocks as well as water. Thus the snow flows fast or slow in grand beauty-making glaciers and avalanches; the air in majestic floods carrying minerals, plant leaves, seeds, spores, with streams of music and fragrance; water streams carrying rocks…while the stars go streaming through space pulsed on and on forever like blood…in Nature’s warm heart.”
 

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Frosty Wooldridge
Golden, CO
Population-Immigration-Environmental specialist: speaker at colleges, civic clubs, high schools and conferences
Www.HowToLiveALifeOfAdventure.com
Www.frostywooldridge.com
Six continent world bicycle traveler
Speaker/writer/adventurer
Adventure book: How to Live a Life of Adventure: The Art of Exploring the World
Frosty Wooldridge, six continent world bicycle traveler, Canada to Mexico summer 2015, 2,000 miles, 100,000 vertical feet of climbing: