More Touristing

With the last few days of our holiday suddenly upon us it’s time to do all the things we like to do when we’re here, which includes a visit to the local raptor rehabilitation centre.

We were there for the advertised 1pm talk but when the director (and sole employee) bounced in and suggested it was too cold for sitting and would we like a behind the scenes tour instead (carefully designed so that we could stand in the sun as much as possible) we jumped at the chance.*

Flight cage where the birds learn to fly again. And another chance to post a picture of that Colorado sky

Like all these places it’s a labour of love as much as anything else. Even the rats get a good life, up to the point where they become raptor food – at one point they were discussing the possibility of putting up cold frames to grow lettuce organically year round to feed to the rats to feed to the birds. I suppose, when you’re looking after something at the top of the food chain, every link is important. Birds that had been run over by trucks, birds that had been trampled by their nest mates, even one bird that had flown into an electricity substation (they may be magnificent but they’re not generally all that bright) – all being nursed back to health to mainly be set free if there’s any chance of their survival. For us it was the chance to get up close and personal with birds that are generally no more than a passing blur – like the most gorgeous albeit elderly peregrine falcon, who’d lost none of her splendid presence despite a touch of arthritis. Or a tiny little owl – barely sparrow sized – sitting basking under a heat lamp. Or a turkey vulture who just wanted to come out and play.

Rare two-headed bald eagle. Oh all right, two bald eagles, both about 40 years old, which is about 90 in eagle years.

I was too fascinated to take many pictures and my phone wasn’t really up to the challenge anyway but here’s the best I could do. And if you’re down Pueblo way I recommend a visit – it’s free, but they’ve a lot of rats to support so I’m sure a donation would be very welcome.

Juvenile Peregrine falcon, who may be able to be released into the wild once it’s regained its strength

*For the last few mornings we’ve been waking up and it’s been 5 degrees. And if you’re thinking, well that’s a bit nippy but not bad for December then you’re thinking in celsius. 5 degrees Farenheit is -15 in real money. It does warm up during the day, but you definitely want to be in the sunshine if you can

Monumental

So we’ve been touristing today, with a trip to the historic downtown area to see the Union Depot, which used to be the railway station, back when the city was served by no fewer than five rival train companies (and we can see how well *that* sort of competition worked out, given that there’s now no passenger trains at all).

They certainly knew how to build a railway station, back then, and it’s been beautifully restored, complete with some charming period detail – and some slightly less charming ones, albeit perhaps not so very distant from the current mood…

In fact the whole historic area has been nicely spruced up and is well worth a wander, especially as it’s one of the few parts of Pueblo where walking feels like a sensible mode of transport, as opposed to something you do when your car has broken down.

But then we needed to actually buy something so we went to another jaw-dropping monument to late American capitalism, Sam’s Club.

I can’t see one of these being lovingly restored in 100 years time, but you never know…

The Trail Runs Ever On and On

I was on my own today (the other half and his folks having to drive up to Denver to take his grandma to catch her flight) and, left with the choice between sitting at home with my father-in-law’s chocolate chip cookies and going out on the bike, it was no contest: I would take the chocolate chip cookies with me on the bike. Just down the road from where we’re staying there’s a river trail that runs right around into town, and then on and out to the reservoir beyond. I wasn’t quite up for the 36-mile round trip the reservoir would entail, but, it being another beautiful day, I was up for a bit of exploration.

The weather was perfect: crisp and cool and very clear, with no wind and a light scattering of cloud. The ride down to the trail was worryingly downhill all the way but once on the trail it was gently undulating, following the course of the creek. Mindful of the altitude and the need to get back up the hill at the end, I took it at a steady pace. In fact, that was pretty much all my borrowed bike – having spent the last decade or so in the garage – was going to do. We must have looked quite a sight as we travelled down the path together, me in my flat cap and waxed coat, sitting bolt upright, it enjoying its first proper outing in years. The bike had been a little neglected and I could only really get three useful gears out of it and the back brake was purely advisory. But at the stately pace that we were going, it didn’t really matter. And besides, on the trail the only real hazard I was likely to encounter was apparently a rabid skunk.

Oh, and my fellow cyclists. For having stopped on the bridge to take a couple of photos, I heard the familiar whizzing of wheels and clicking of gears. ‘On your left’ they cried and zipped past me as I flattened myself against the parapet of the bridge, fwooom, fwoom, fwoom, all lycra and shades and helmet-mounted cameras. I said good morning but they were going too fast to hear, and besides, I don’t think they recognised me as a fellow cyclist. Clearly, I was but a person on a bike. Or maybe they thought I was about to talk to them about God?

But never mind all that. I could have ridden on forever, lured by the endless trail, but caution prevailed and I stopped at some curiously elaborate picnic tables and had my cookies in the sun and then I mounted my steed and made my way home again with my shadow running before me. By the time I got home I wasn’t even out of breath, and I’m hatching plans now for exploring further afield, and dragging the other half out with me too.

But if it wasn’t for the trail, I don’t know how much cycling I’d want to do around here. The streets around my in-law’s house are fine, enormously wide (I think the road that leads up to theirs is as wide as Big A-road at home) and very lightly used and everything so far has given me a lot of room, even when I was on the right side of the street.* There’s even the odd bike lane painted on some of the roads. But all the other roads are multi-lane monsters and the entry level car around here appears to be a pickup truck the size of our house. Even if I could stick to the proper side of the street, I wouldn’t want to be in amongst more than the lightest traffic and the quietest roads. The rest just looks too scary to be fun. I’ll stick to the trail for now, and take my chances with the rabid skunk.

*There might *ahem* have been one occasion when I found myself cycling happily along on the left. But it was a very empty road, and honestly, anyone could have made the same mistake…