Get On, Clip In, Fall Off

1400m ASL

Grand Junction, CO - 30 September

Denver International Airport has to be the only airport I've ever been to where I had to take a train to get to my bags. The airport is ostentatious in size and layout, with a rapid transit thingy connecting the various bits of it. I was pleased to note that notwithstanding the ridiculous amount of time it takes for passengers to get from gate to carousel, the bags still hadn't started appearing by the time we got there. I found my rucksack lurking in the 'oversize baggage' section of the hall and found to my relief that my camera (which I'd accidentally left in there when checking my bag in) was still present, but the top pocket had been opened and presumably rifled for the small change I'd thrown in there (are you supposed to tip baggage handlers too in the States as well as everyone else?). They must have been disappointed as it was pounds sterling rather than quarters and nickels. Then again, the only thing which would have disappointed them more than foreign money would probably be Sacagawea dollar coins, which people here seem to harbour strange and inexplicable loathings for.

It transpired that Hertz didn't have the car I'd reserved - a convertible with their funky Neverlost satellite navigation - but the immensely helpful and friendly Kermit at the desk tried very hard to find one anyway. This pleased me for two reasons - firstly, I'd never met anyone called Kermit before and I think it's an excellent name, and secondly, it was quite superb customer service of the sort which makes me happy on the regrettably rare occasions that it happens to me. But there was still no satellite-guided convertible to be found, so to make up for it Kermit offered me a car that didn't have satnav but was a convertible and was rather nicer than the Mustangs which are Hertz's default convertible. It was mean, it was black, and it was a Toyota Solara. I liked it immensely (not least because it's one of those cars which is quiet enough that even with the roof down you have to rev the engine to see if it's running or not, and even then you have to watch the rev counter rather than listening), threw my bags in the back, bade Kermit a hearty farewell and headed out to the Interstate feeling rather pleased with myself.

It's only (that's the US "only") 240 or so miles from Denver to Grand Junction, where I'd booked myself into the Holiday Inn. I stopped and fortified myself with coffee and junk food at a gas station, and was annoyed to find that the largest size coffee came in was 20 ounces (just short of 600ml in real money) before realising that if I thought that was too small for a cup of coffee, I was in danger of turning into an American. I-70 is dark and winding as it crosses the Rockies, and it didn't help matters that it took me some time to work out that part of the reason it was so dark was that I'd only turned the side lights (and mercifully, tail lights) on. Turning the headlights on instead made things a little easier, but as I was pretty tired after a day's travelling the journey to Grand Junction was still wigglier than I needed it to be. I got to Grand Junction at about 2300 and slept for a long time.

Friday was fairly uneventful - I had some work I needed to get done so stayed in the hotel for most of the day staring at computers. There were small parcels of excitement, though, such as finding out that the hotel had its own miniature launderette and that I wouldn't have to schlep my dirty undies into town to find somewhere to wash them. More importantly than that, I took a couple of hours off in the afternoon to head down to the railway lines near the Amtrak station to take pictures of the westbound California Zephyr as it passed through Grand Junction station. This is a daily service from Chicago to Emeryville (near San Francisco), and takes a jolly long time (about 55 hours in total). However, it's a damn sight more civilised than flying.

I found a spot just up the line from the station and settled down to wait. The train was - as always - running late, and eventually showed up at about 1650, over half an hour after its scheduled departure time. The bustle around the station platform as the train (one of only two services a day, remember) approached and departed with blaring horns and ding-ding-dingy bells was heavily reminiscent of old Westerns, where the sleepy little town only comes to life for 15 minutes a day around the arrival of the train. Once the train had gone and I'd shot about 500000 photos, everything was quiet. I returned to the hotel, did some more work, then casually decided to go for a run.

This place is about 1400 metres (okay, okay, 4600ft) above sea level, so the comparatively short 7km run proved to be quite exciting as my wussy sea-level-trained cardiovascular system struggled in the thin air. After having a shower, I repaired to one of the billion chain restaurants near the hotel and ate a larger portion of ribs than I'd actually imagined could exist (and I can imagine a lot of ribs) before collapsing into bed after doing a bit more work.

Posted by mpk at October 2, 2005 7:35 AM