I pictured a dry, rather barren and desolate corner of colorado. cactus. big trees along the river, dust everywhere. cowboys. you know.
and then I went there, and fell in love.
I'm heading to durango this weekend for the ironhorse classic, a bike "race" (I don't race) from durango to silverton. silverton is a tiny mining town a little less than 50 miles from durango, up two mountain passes and down into a little valley.
I first visited durango 3 years ago when a friend convinced me to ride the ironhorse classic, this ride that begins the same time as a train sets off for the same destination, the goal being to beat the train.
I haven't managed to beat the train, but the two times I've ridden this I've managed to enjoy the beauty more than enough to combat the pain. and my visions of a desert land were completely, totally wrong ~ where did that vision come from?
durango is nestled in a groove in the land, thick with trees and rounded hillsides, a bustling little town full of personality and, well, trees.
I can picture myself living there in a small, gabled cabin in the trees, writing, gazing out on the misty valley as the steam rises from the river.
so I'm off to race (I don't race) the train again, in a beautiful plot of country in southwestern colorado. but shush, don't tell anyone how pretty it is there, because I don't want them to get to my little cabin in the trees before me.
just tell them it's dry and barren, desolate, full of prickly cacti.