Byers is still a tiny little thing, but the great thing about it to me was the promise of things being there as a roadside stop next to an interstate and a major city. I was still 42 miles from Denver, but I knew that day I’d go through at least three or four towns, all guaranteed to have diners, gas stations, and other such things for me to casually decide when to eat. Because of this I left my water as it was, which was not bad off. I’d eaten all my snacks except for some oatmeal packets, and I had about two liters of water which was plenty to get me six miles to Strasborg and re-judge my water situation then. Point being that old Rommelton was lightening his load to ease up on the badly bruised hips holding him up.
I set off from Byers straight off and figured on getting breakfast in Strasborg just to feel like I did something in the morning. Along the way it was mostly still more fields, smaller ones, and then the now ever present I-70 zooming about to my right for three miles, then to my left for another three miles. Once I passed under it, on the other side was a little mini railroad that came down from a farm. It went about 1,000 yards from this farm ahead and went into a little twenty foot tunnel, then looped around to a little bridge that went over itself, along a little bridge then reconnected to go back up. Interesting Colorado toys, it seems they’re very proud of their railroads.
Just past this little railroad set I got my second glimpse of glory to my promised land. Coming over the hill that farm sat on at mile marker 97 the peaks poked up, then the full view spread across the entire horizon. The Rockies. It was my first sighting of the purple mountains majesty for the American Walk. I gazed all up and down looking from their snowcaps to their dips and crevasses that I could make out at that distance the whole while as I entered Strasborg.
In Strasborg, I asked about a library to discover the greatest one in the area was in Byers, but there was also one in Bennet, the next town over. So there was no library, but they did have quite a nice café for breakfast. I stopped in for eggs and pancakes at the Patio Café, which was excellent. Feeling a bit over zealous about having been given $20 since St. Francis and had spent only $14 for the 138 miles it was between St. Francis and Byers. My budget of $1/mile was doing a-okay so I got myself the big breakfast and enjoyed it thoroughly.
Afterward I brushed my teeth, and all of that, then called my dear old mother back home to let her know I was still alive. I got her voicemail but I’m sure she was pleased to hear it. Another six miles was to be had before Bennet so I set off down the road again ignoring the need for a break once more. Most of my attention focused itself on that jagged horizon that would disappear behind sloping hills then re-emerge a mile or so later with a hint more of detail that I could go over. About two miles from Bennet I got a picture of the view off the side of the road and threw myself in it as well for all to see.
In Bennet the library was easy enough to find. I plopped down there for a bit to send an email ahead alerting my new roommates that I’d be arriving even earlier than I’d estimated and that I’d stowed away the rent for the month in the package I’d sent ahead so they could feel free to open it. I was going to update the site, then figured it’d take too long and I’d have plenty of time to do it in Denver, which I’d be in by the next night. I stayed only an hour, refilled a little water, then left for Watkins nine miles off.
I had planned to take a break half way between Bennet and Watkins doing maybe five miles then four. All the excitement of hitting towns at every break, and Denver not far off, was affecting me though, so I completely ignored it and trudged my way the whole nine miles after already having done twelve in the day. This was not a good idea at all. Being bare footed in the sandals, a nice sunny day, and over extending myself did not make my feet happy one bit. The back strap started to dig into my Achilles tendon which was a mild aggravation. My left knee started to really ache for the last four miles, but by then I could see Watkins and that was too much for my little excited tummy to handle so I kept on. On top of it, what I noticed when I finally did settle in to the farthest truck stop into Watkins was that my feet were burning due to lack of lotion.
I don’t know why I chose the furthest option from me of the three I had. The librarian in Bennet had recommended a place and I couldn’t remember the name, so I decided it was this Camillo Café truck stop that I picked passing Lulu’s Bar and Grill and another little white thing that despite the Open sign wasn’t sure if it was open. I got a Denver Post out of their little basket and read that as I ate another hearty meal.
It was about 6:30 or so when I left and the sun was not going to give me a lot of time to get closer to Denver. I got about three or four miles out of town before I started realizing that finding a place to camp was not going to be happy. Old 36 was only fifteen feet from I-70, and you could tell she had designs for him. This made finding a private area an issue while those two flirted. I finally spotted a little railroad bridge that I’m not even sure what is was going over, but I went under it anyway through thistles and prickly things to the other side and used the track hump as cover to pitch up my tent. With all the thistles about I sort of felt like Briar Rabbit, but once inside my tent it was nice and comfy.
Going over and over my map insets of Denver I over excited myself and couldn’t get to sleep until well into the night. I couldn’t see the glow as clearly as I could two nights before since I was so close, ironically, but I did picture that previous image often in my head as well as my new pictures of the Rockies as I closed my eyes trying to bring the next day quicker with sleep. Eventually I slipped away, but I couldn’t say when.