So there is a Colorado Patriot Guard Riders mission going on today. The good news that it is not for a hero returning to the States after being killed or wounded. The bad news is that it is for a hero on his
way over to Afghanistan. Army Chief Warrant Officer James Henry recently found himself in receipt of orders sending him and his family to another installation away from Fort Carson where he has been stationed for the past several years. The timing was typical of the US Army. Mr. Henry's daughter was about to turn 16, and his son was six months away from graduating from high school. Mr. Henry approached the Army about what he could do to prevent moving his family. He had one other option, and that was to volunteer for another tour in Afghanistan. Thus his family could stay in their home. Mr. Henry is a hero.The PGR volunteered to escort Mr. Henry from his home to the Colorado Springs Airport. Considering his sacrifice for his family and his country, it is the least we could do.
Our mission was short, but well worth it. There were about 30 riders, and CW3 Henry in the middle, driving with his family. We had a number of people stop and wave to the impromptu parade ushering the soldier to his deployment. We took the liberty to park in the loading zone at the airport, and cheer Mr. Henry on his way. From there, we left him with his family, and went our own seperate ways.
I went to have a late breakfast/early lunch at my daughter's restaurant. It was pretty crowded, but I managed to get a seat in Natalie's section. We talked a little about stuff, and I left my customary $5.00 tip, which was about 35% of my bill. My daughters are the only ones who get that gratuity rate.
From there, I was on my way out on the road. I decided to head out west, because the roads are much more interesting that way. I hadn't decided on a ending point, but I wanted to get back soon enough to take my dog to the dog park. I was in Manitou Springs, when I looked up at Pikes Peak. I realized that I had not taken Steve McQueen to the summit, and it was probably my last opportunity until next Spring to do so.
I was about to take the turn to the Pikes Peak Highway, but had a couple of obstacles to overcome. First was that I had just below a half a tank of gas. At higher altitudes, Steve tends to cough a little, so I should really go with a full tank, and even though the temperatures were in the 70s in Manitou Springs, at a loss of ten degrees for every 5000 feet, I was looking at a cool summit. I figured that I would get gasoline in Woodland Park, and if the temperature didn't bother me there, I'd give the summit a shot.
I dropped the idea in Woodland Park, when the temperature was cool; not enough to stop my ride, but enough to tell me that it would be cooler at 14000 feet at the top of Pikes Peak. I tabled the idea until next year.
So I decided to go to Deckers. That ride is always beautiful. The road is in
good condition, the curves and hills always keep the thrill of motorcycling alive, and the views of the mountains are beautiful. This time of year allows for a view that's much different than the rest of the year, but now for over five years, the scars of the Hayman Fire of 2003 are still there. I never thought this devastation would last this long.
I made it to Deckers, and stopped for a Coke. I spoke with another rider about the bike he did not take on the ride that day. He had a 1965 Moto Guzzi. I don't know a lot about that make of bike, but vintage stuff is so cool visualize. I'd like to think that my Harley would some day be vintage.
I checked my map and figured that I could take a back road from Deckers back to Lake George. I was not in the mood to take any unpaved roads. I decided to give it a shot, but the minute I saw any gravel, I would turn around.
The highway from Deckers headed to the northwest. It was a well paved road, and was just as interesting as the rest of highway 67. It went up a pretty nice hill, and right over the top was a scenic overlook. It was worth stopping for, but not right then. I kept going, passing a few trucks stopped so that hunters could get out and bag a deer.
I made it to a small town called Buffalo Creek. I saw a number of cabins and homes that were settled into the woods looking absolutely natural. I wasn't going the right way to get to Lake George; I had missed the turn-off. I'm glad I missed it, because finding this town was worth the ride. It was hidden in the woods like a secret place, a hideout from the rest of the world. I liked that route.
I used Buffalo Creek as a turn around point, and stopped at the scenic overlook on the way back. I did not have any problems or stops on the way back, and made my way back home. There, my dog, Andy stood anxiously awaiting to see his friends at the dog park.
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