Rocky Mountain High

Route 70 entering the foothills of the mountains is a continual climb as you would imagine the fence wire zig-zagged across the high meadows I stopped for gas in Limon had a bite to eat at a non descriptive fast food place. The Song Rocky Mountain High has been in my head for most of the morning now and I have been stuck on the lyrics about being "born in the summer of his 27 year" which this is and I am heading for the Rockys but just maybe 2 months late. Dad called and told me that his cousin David Linke was expecting me in Denver, now my plans had been to drive straight on to Aspen but this should be interesting. So I called David up an got directions and a tangent that I will not soon forget had begun.
In a suburb west of downtown up the hill a bit I found the humble abode of a second cousin that I had never had the pleasure of meeting, so many stories were told of him that I wasn't quite sure what to expect. A big man in body and spirit he and his wife Linn took me in like a son we toured the city ate wonderful food had conversations about most anything and everything from the economy to solo bass guitarists. Thursday night they hosted a dinner party that they insisted I stick around for well it was quite the do. Cocktail hour of Colorado peach margaritas, corn shucking and the insistence that I serenade for my supper. I left Friday about noon to head over the pass to Aspen with a full belly a refreshed mind and some new books not sure if the vans transmission would like the climbing....
The Eastern slope was nifty but the drive down the other side through a magnificent valley with a river and train and the highway with old telephone cables running 30 thick and the water alternating rapids and calm till the whole thing spits out into Glennwood Springs where I turned off to get down to my Aunt Suzanne's house in Paonia where the cell reception is just awful. I pulled into town about 5 and we had a tough time playing cut in and out phone tag till it finally stuck and then there I was the famed cottage on the edge of town. As I write this Suzanne is on a kayak trip in the Baja down Mexico way eating great food paddling between the main peninsula and the different islands along its coast. Anyway we had a great ole time packed so much into 2 days my head nearly poppped off. Saturday morning we shot up to Aspen and poked around went to a thrift shop, ate lunch in a park by the river, went up to Independence Pass (which was kinda like the moon), drank a beer or two at the Woody Creek Tavern (Hunter S. Thompson's Fav. bar), stopped in to her pottery studio, went dumpster diving, bought and ate tortillas from a tortillaria, installed a new window in her shed, ate dinner and went to a Bluegrass concert that night.... man was I tired.
I'll flesh this out tonight for the next installment