The next morning, my son, Nick, and I bicycled the MKT and the Hinkson Creek trail in Columbia, Missouri. It was hot. We stopped to eat wild mulberries picked fresh from the trees that line the route. For the 4th of July, we jogged our usual threeish miles. Again, pretty hot but a great workout. That night we braved threatening skies for fireworks and live music at Peace Park, listening to Man in the Ring while munching on Kentucky Fried Chicken. The rain held off. When we returned to the house, our neighbors put on a show that rivaled the city's.
July 6, 2013, Nick and I loaded the car and drove off at 10 a.m Missouri time. Kansas sped by. Nick slept most of the way and we only stopped for gas, putting us well into Colorado before a frantic motorist started gesturing toward the top of my car. DAMN! I pulled over just as the bike rack was preparing to rip away from my car. We unloaded the racks, forced it back in place and with less weight, the bikes made it to Summit County, Colorado, by 10 p.m. Missouri time. I had considered a hotel as I knew we would arrive late, but the thought of standing at a reception desk for half an hour plus the added cost turned me off. Nick and I used my "smart" phone to find some camping. Unfortunately, all the campsites were full and the google mapquest was WRONG, so we tried one more turn and found a place to stay. Putting up a tent at the end of a long day of driving is challenging enough, then the blowers for my air mattress crapped out after three puffs. It was a long, uncomfortable night. The altitude always makes it harder for me to sleep and our noisy neighbors babbled well past midnight until someone, not me, yelled at them to shut up.
The next morning our camp host took us to a very private site. He called it "the presidential suite" and the people packing up said it was the best place they had stayed in all their years of visiting Summit County. Except for the "tremendous amount of dog vomit behind that tree" the previous campers warned us about, it was perfect.