Kenosha Pass

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You can tell it’s an aspen by the way it is.

Sundays are for football and tailgating and getting sloppy drunk with the rest of your football bros, right? Usually, yes. But homie don’t play that shit. I started Sunday off right, by lighting a damn fire in my fireplace and sipping some awesome coffee and by awesome coffee I mean really shitty coffee because I’m just here for caffeine.

If you know me, you know I can’t sit around very long, ESPECIALLY if I have dark roasted crack getting pumped through my body. I’ve got this awesome little list of places I want to go in Colorado so I took that out and glared at it for a few minutes. I’d punch the addresses into google and see how far of a drive I was looking at, I’d scold, and then I’d move down the list, looking for something relatively close. Kenosha Pass was only an hour and a half from Casa de Gage so I loaded up the Tacoma and headed west.

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Old cabin near Tarryall reservoir.

I drove slow. Really slow. I just got the Tacoma and the lack of 2 more cylinders like my old Titan had makes it painfully….slow, which is probably good for me since I drove like a mad man before. I drove through little towns like Divide, Florissant, and Lake George before turning onto a quiet back road that led me west towards Tarryall Reservoir and Kenosha Pass beyond that.

Disclaimer: I’m going to be pretty up front on here. It’s my damn blog and if I want to type out everything that happened in my day, I’ll do as I please. So with that being said, as a 27 year old man I feel comfortable telling you briefly about how I kind of pissed my pants on the way to Kenosha Pass. But first, a picture:

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Fall and winter collide.

I drink lots of coffee. Like I said, Sunday morning was filled with coffee and self loathing. By the time I decided to leave the cabin, I had a full pot of coffee sloshing around my bladder. “I can hold it”, I told myself as I left the driveway. Drive, drive, drive and then forty-five minutes into my little adventure, it hits me…hard. I’m on a back road and I can pull over anywhere I want, but I push it. I’m looking for the perfect pull-off. I carefully scrutinize every little gravel shoulder. I blame it on the new truck. I don’t want to be too rough on it yet. That will come later. Every pull-off I pass I immediately regret doing so and drive faster towards the next one. My feet are tapping now and I’m bouncing up and down in my seat trying with the utmost self-control, not to piss myself. I see a pull-off ahead. It’s the worst one I’ve seen so far but I don’t care. I scream into this gnarly little gravel pull-off, my ABS on my truck hating me, pushing my brake pedal against my foot. I jump out of the still running truck, hobble to the other side, and start to unzip my pants. In the excitement of finally being able to relieve myself, I start to piss before…you know…I’m out. Warm fluid down my leg, my ankle, now its in my boot. Awesome. I managed to finish the task like a normal person but the initial, we’ll say, crucial first second of pee, down my leg. LUCKILY I had on my sweet North Face water…wait, MOISTURE resistant pants so you would have NO idea the travesty I’d just committed. I hopped back in my truck and pushed on, acting like I hadn’t just committed travel treason.

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Can I get this intraveinously?

That was the climax of this story. I pushed on to Kenosha after that, passing Tarryall and driving through Jefferson. As I approached highway 285, you could see the newly snow-capped mountains in the distance, the changing of the seasons blatantly evident. The base of the mountains green and yellow, and as your eyes moved up the slopes the color faded into the grays and whites that accompany a mountain in the cold months of Colorado. Cars lined the road as you approached the pass. Everyone was out looking for color, wanting to enjoy the last few weeks of cool, crisp air before snow started to fly in the lower elevations. People posed for selfies in the aspens and dogs shit in the middle of the trail, it was beautiful.

Usually I hate being around people. It’s the reason I moved forty-five minutes away from work, so I wouldn’t have to be around all of the people, but Sunday was different. I loved seeing everyone outside. They had chosen to leave the comforts of their couches and embark on a quick day venture. Families were bundled up in their PataGucci gear and little kids played in the leaves and dirt. People were smiling and being active and it honestly made my soul happy. I’d driven to get away but I’d practically found a festival out here on the Colorado trail in the middle of an aspen grove and I was okay with that.

 

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