Bitten by the Nordic Bug

Part Two

Woody Creek, North

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The spiffy bridge now spanning the Woody Creek serves to provide the Nordic Skier with two divergent experiences. Head south across this bridge and the photos from my previous blog should serve as an indication as to what you will discover. Today however we head north, in the opposite direction, for a 100 percent downhill glide through some rugged Colorado Rocky Mountain scenery.

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~ ~ ~ Canyonland ~ here we come ~ ~ ~

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Across the old highway and on through the old stockyards we glide.

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Up and over a handful of driveways.

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When all of a sudden, we’re here !

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Immediately upon entering Snowmas Canyon the trail swaps its erstwhile suburban vibe for an impressively arid wild western railroad authenticity.

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Clearly visible is the evidence of the explosive techniques applied in building the Rio Grande Railroad. The unmistakable arrow straight mark of a drill in the photograph above leads the eye to the exact point of detonation. The ensuing explosion thus ripped the entire bolder apart, as illustrated by the V-shape emanating outwards from the blast.

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If, by the way, you can see a lion in the above picture… with a little tear in his eye terminating at the blast-point then I can assure you, you’re not alone in your observation.

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In fact, the lion is not alone; two more almost identically sized rocks received the same treatment, as evidenced by their tear tattoo.

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Onwards, and downwards.

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Suddenly the Roaring Fork River looms into view.

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For a while river and trail slide side by side, cheek by jowl.

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Until, low and behold, a time capsule !

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I swear I caught a whiff of steam.

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~ now ~

the slideshow

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martincooney.com

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The old railroad cars mark roughly the 2 mile point from Woody Creek’s spiffy new bridge. From here the former Rio Grand Railroad picks its way down valley all the way to Glenwood Springs some 30 miles distant. These magnificent wheels however quite often served as my turn around point when running the trail and so it seemed appropriate at this point to turn my skis around and head homeward. Although I know perfectly well what lies beyond the next bend I am chomping at the bit to see it brand new again through my new-found Nordic veil.

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