The Miracle Mile + Gold Coast

After the lecture, I met my friend Peter in Millennium Park next to the affectionately named "bean." We were planning to get a snack and walk north up Michigan Avenue towards the Gold Coast, but an intense afternoon thunderstorm forced us into the Art Institute.

As we were walking up the stairs for the main entrance, a lightning bolt flashed, immediately followed by the crash of an entire drum ensemble. There was no time between the two, indicating a very close strike. Even though I didn’t see the bolt, the loud sound and impending storm made me go up the stairs all the faster. The Art Institute has a great collection, but the Contemporary section was down, to my chagrin, for reworking. The Jeff Wall exhibit I saw at MoMA was being installed to open on Friday. I would have enjoyed another pass by his giant back-lit photographs.

After we left the Art Institute we took a stroll up the famous Michigan Avenue taking a moment to see the giant iPhone in the window of the Apple store.

The next stop was Rosebud’s Carmine on Rush for the best bolognese sauce I’ve ever had. The last two times I visited Chicago I made my pilgrimage complete by stopping and enjoying. Although I have tried many times to imitate it and developed a tasty sauce of my own, their’s is top notch. The bottle of Chianti we split definitely heightened the party for my taste buds.

We finished the walk with a stroll up to Division, passing the Canterbury Court where I stayed while taking the class with Marcia and John in 2005. Just around the corner from the all-night strip of bars and the too-good, greasy-spoon Five Faces, we picked up the El for the return to Wilmette.

Chicago Institute for Psychoanalysis

In another stroke of luck, I was able to join a lecture by a preëminent psychoanalyst at the Chicago Institute for Psychoanalysis.

When I was in Colorado Springs, I stopped by John and Marcia’s offices hoping to catch up a bit. On John’s door I found a flyer for a class in Chicago. I sent them an email asking if we could have lunch or dinner. I heard back a couple of days later and in the interim remembered how much I enjoyed their classes, so I asked if I could sit in.

It turns out the day I was there was the second day of the summer block (a one month college course). I joined the hour or so introduction, went to lunch with John, Marcia, and a few students, and then enjoyed the lecture on "self" creation and the relevence of Freud today.

The best news was the guest lecture by noted object relations psychoanalyst Dr Frank Summers, not because class with John and Marcia isn’t excellent, but because it was unexpected. The hour for the lecture was only enough time to scratch the surface and the few sentences here can at best mention some of the vocabulary. I vigorously took notes, which even after a week I’ve yet to digest, but regardless the discussion came at a very good time. I liked his comments on a healthy self being able to regulate and assimilate its experience. I found the clinical distinction between trauma and difficult experience enlightening, that is to say, trauma is caused when the psyche is unable to manage and process difficult experiences often leading to symptoms later on. All psyches go through difficult experiences; the important part is how the experiences are dealt with. The third detail I found particularly interesting came in the following the question, "Does the way you live express who you are?" He asked whether the motivation to do something came from anxiety (from without, from defenses) or from authenticity (from within, from the self), postulating that the motivation is what’s important (for the therapist) over the content. Understanding what drives one to do a thing or act a certain way can be very enlightening. For me it helped formulate answers to a few questions I’ve been pondering; why did I shake up my world, take a giant motorcycle trip, and decide to go to graduate school?

Another 1,000 miles down

Near the Minnesota-Wisconsin border I passed 17,000 miles. The last thousand covered the flat middle of the country from the Colorado mountains to Mississippi River. Eastern Colorado, Kansas, Nebraska, the western side of Iowa were all flat or slightly rolling and devoid of trees. It wasn’t until I stopped in Estherville, Iowa that I noticed trees and lakes, two things that often go together. I guess the Plains have enough water for farming, either natural from the sky or from underground, but not enough to support a forest. That is to say I can only speak for the part I drove through, I imagine there’s a forest hiding out there somewhere. Riding across the arid middle of the country I found it very interesting to see that both trees and people appeared more frequently as I headed East.

Another 1,000 miles down

After I left Aspen I passed the 16,000 mile mark. The last thousand miles took me all over the middle of Colorado, one of my favorite states. Even after driving a thousand miles there, all I did was uncover more roads I want to drive, more passes I want to cross, and more vistas I want to see.

Thank You Ben

While I was riding from San Francisco to Portland with my new friend Jeremiah I had a little run in with the police. Shortly after crossing the Oregon border and happy to have ridden some of the best roads of the trip, I was really having a good time.

Steinbeck mentions in "Travels with Charlie" how every state seems to know what the best speed is for a certain road and they rarely agree. This was a case of a drop in the limit with no perceptible difference in the quality of the road.

Jeremiah flew by an off-duty cop going the other way faster than he could turn on his radar. I didn’t have that luxury, by the time I passed the cop it was too late. He only caught me going 81 mph, which wouldn’t have been a big deal on a 75 mph Interstate. However, here the speed limit was 55 mph. The ticket was for a whopping $242. After 6 years without a ticket (I did get pulled over in Holland for looking Dutch, but that’s another story), my streak came to an end, or so I thought.

In Portland I stayed one night with my friend Mari’s sister, Sara. It turns out Sara, her husband David, and Ben (David’s twin) are all lawyers, so I took out my ticket and asked if they had any ideas. Ben spotted a technicality that was worth investigating. He wrote a letter to the county judge to contest the validity of the ticket. He had the thought that if it works, the ticket will go away and if it doesn’t, I would be in exactly the same position. I liked his thought process.

After a couple of weeks I heard from Ben that the judge had accepted his demurrer, making the ticket go away. So I want to say "Thank you Ben" a bunch more times.

More GS adventures

Yesterday as I drove through Buena Vista, Colorado I couldn’t decide whether or not to stop for lunch or continue, but when I saw another red GS, I pulled a U-turn and parked next my bike’s twin. It just happened that my neighbor also had a Florida license plate. Inside the burger and burrito joint I met the owners of my bike’s twin, Prior and Mary. Prior rode the bike out and picked up his daughter in Denver. Now the two of them are taking a tour of Colorado. We had the usual gear and "what have you done to your bike?" conversation which seems to happen any time two bikers get interested in a bike. In the interim, Mary mentioned that she’d spent a year at the business college at UNF before going to a school closer to home. Prior switched from an BMW RT because he wanted a bike that was better for nonpaved roads. While I was in Santa Fe, Ira told me a statistic that I forgot but I think he said that there are as many unpaved roads as paved ones in the US. So a dual purpose bike can really open new horizons.

Summit County

Summit County, one of my favorite places in the world, sits high on the Colorado Plateau. Water, mountains, trees, vistas, trails give visitors a great deal to take in. In the winter, there’s world class skiing, and in the summer, there’s hiking, biking, and outdoor sports galore.

The county is bisected by I-70 leading from Denver to Grand Junction crossing several high passes including the 10,000 ft Vail Pass.

The long Eisenhower Tunnel bypasses the 12,000 ft Loveland Pass, an avoidance I happily took. While I-70 tunnels through the mountain, Loveland Pass is a twisty, turny, two-lane, roller-coaster ride up and over the mountain. From the top you can see down over two valleys with steep snow-capped peaks and green valleys. This is where Matt and I took our avalanche course, in the winter of course. We spent the day digging a snow profile, testing the slopes, using beacons, and digging out buried gear.

Another neat feature that separates this area is the pristine Lake Dillon. Denver owns the manmade lake and the surrounding land. Because this lake supplies 7% of Denver’s water, there is almost no development along the banks. They do allow a variety of boating including a rowing club with weekend clinics in the summer.

Going down past the ski areas Arapahoe Basin and Keystone I turned before entering Dillon on Swan Mountain Road which goes around the back side of the lake. Even though I was on two wheels, I wished I had my road bike for this stretch. The grade wasn’t too steep and the view of the lake was spectacular. For a place with little water or at least hard to get water, this massive lake stands in contrast to the environment. There are a number of much smaller mountain lakes, but those don’t compare to this giant.

I spent the night at my mom’s cabin which is nestled in the White River National Forest. I always enjoy going, even for a night, especially alone. I’ve had tons of great ski days, many tasty meals, and lots of restful nights in this quiet retreat where cell phones resist the urge to connect to the outside world.

Unfortunately at least half of the tall pines both along the meadow and in the forest have been infested with tiny black beetles who dig in and kill their hosts. From a distance normally evergreen swaths are filled with rust colored ghosts of former grandeur. There are a number of guesses to why this is nearing epidemic proportions like the lack of very very cold days, the mitigation of natural forest fires, or the clearcutting of 100 years ago without diversity in reforestation.

Downtown Denver on bikes

If you are ever in downtown Denver, you should check out the park system. Cherry Creek and the Platte Rivers meet near Commons Park and have places to play both in the water and out. Along the banks an extensive network of paths cuts through the center of town allowing walkers, bikers, and other adventurers to bypass the rush and enjoy an uninterupted path with frequent entrances and exits. REI (Recreational Equipment Incorporated) has its flagship store where these creeks meet. In a rebuilt 1900s power station they have transformed an old extremely well built structure that was in disrepair into a model for redevelopment. Built into the Platte is a small kayak and canoe course where city dwellers can test their skills without having to go into the mountains.

Matt and I took a bicycle tour along the waterway and up the 16th Street Mall. The Mall is a pedestrian area with a free bus that stops every few blocks. Bikes are allowed in the bus path only on Sundays, so we were lucky to be able to cruise in the middle of the street. Riding from one end to the other we saw a variety of stores from big box retailers to small boutiques. Unlike the area surrounding Commons Park which has seen a major urban renewal with large-scale residential construction and giant leaps in property values, this adjacent area still has the feel of a place that was spruced up a decade ago, but didn’t quite catch on.

Rocky Mountain National Park

Looking for a fun ride from Denver, Matt and I decided to ride to Rocky Mountain National Park. His ZX-12 was still waiting on some parts, so he rode a Ducati 749. We started in Denver in the morning and headed for the mountains north and west of town.

We spent a few hours riding up and down twisty roads, stopping for lunch and gas in Nederland. From there we went to Rocky Mountain NP where we sat in tons of traffic because of the road construction. At the top visitors center we paused for a drink and cookie.

During our break, I looked over at the next bench and was certain I saw a guy I know from home named Gordon. I wasn’t quite sure since this venue was not a place where I’d expect to see other Floridians. So at Matt’s suggestion, I said Gordon, hoping he’d hear it and turn. That way if he wasn’t Gordon, we’d avoid the awkward "you look like someone I know moment." When he got up I was more convinced, so I tried again. This time he looked back, squinted, and said, "Ryan?" Like I’ve said before, even though I’ve had a number of occurences like this one, I’m always surprised when it happens. It turns out Gordon was taking a road trip with a few friends (Berry, Josh, plus a guy I don’t think I’ve met before) from Savannah up to Alaska. So I mentioned that I’d just come down from there and that there really wasn’t much going on in Hyder, so the ferry would probably be a more scenic way to see Alaska.

We continued on passing Grand Lake and Winter Park. The fresh pavement on Berthod Pass was definitely great. Just before the pass, I got a rush of excitement when I felt a big bug hit my face only to see a few minutes later a wasp or bee crawling up the inside of my helmet. I made a quick stop to let the stunned bug out. We rode I-70 out of the mountains and took US 6 from Golden back to Denver, finishing a good day’s ride.

Bacon fried biscuits and country folk

I decided to skip visiting Yellowstone and Teton NPs when I hit I-25. After both of my headlights burnt out in one day, the bike needed some professional attention. Plus Matt was in Denver, so we could hang out for a few days before he jets to London for two years.

Being too far to make it in one evening, I stopped well after dark to stay the night in Casper, WY only to find out that a rodeo championship had taken all the rooms for a hundred miles in either direction. Even though the night air carried a chill and the moon was hidden in our planet’s shadow, I decided to push on to the next town.

After an extra hour of pitch black Interstate night driving a family of deer paused in my lane and nearly forced me off the road. The advice "they don’t walk backwards" echoed at the right time telling me to aim for the hind end of the middle one. I narrowly avoided a highspeed collision with a deer in the middle of Wyoming where I hadn’t seen a car in ages.

On the edge of Douglas, the next town. I saw a blue sign that simply stated "Camping" which lead me to a KOA. I found the night registration box and thought I understood the directions, deposited my money, and proceeded to park for the night. I ended up parking in a spot for an RV and sleeping in the grass under a small tree between my spot and the 5th wheel trailer behind a long 4 door pickup. My little tent barely managed to trap enough heat to keep my feet from going numb.

I awoke the next morning to what sounded like a bubbling spring. When I got out of my tent I met a nice man from Mississippi who was cooking breakfast for his family. He offered me a cup of coffee right after saying good morning. The sound I heard was an family sized portion of bacon in a frying pan. After the bacon he started something I’ve never seen. Using the hot bacon grease he took ready to cook oven biscuits, cut them in half, and dropped them in. The closest relative I can think of is the hush-puppy, but it’s a distant one. These fried biscuits tasted like nothing I’ve ever eaten. Plus they cooked to a golden brown in about 30 seconds. By the time the biscuits were done most of the family had gotten up. I enjoyed the chance to visit with 3 generations from near where I passed through Mississippi. The most important thought of the morning came from the grandmother who said, "Nice doesn’t cost a thing." It was great to wake up and share stories with this family. This was yet another case of meeting incredibly nice people, either locals or other travelers