Did I mention yet that I am afraid of heights, and that mountains are high? Let’s just say that this trip is turning into a “facing your fears,” experience for me, whether I planned it that way or not.
Today we head southwest for an hour to Royal Gorge and Bridge, one of the world’s highest suspension bridges – hanging 956 feet high and spanning a quarter mile across the canyon below. The bridge is sturdy, not like a suspension bridge you see breaking under the heroes in a movie just as the bad guys are about to get them. Cars can drive across it. The view is spectacular, and I am doing OK as long as Adam keeps the kids toward the middle. If they linger too long at the railing, I freak out a little.
“Mommy is going crazy,” Miranda says.
“Yes, I am a little,” I admit. “Stay away from the edge!”
Once on the other side, the kids get an eyeful of the bighorn sheep, elk and buffalo in the wildlife preserve. We decide to ride back to the other side on the tram, a tiny red car, hanging from a few wires over the canyon. Oh lord. We hike, and hike, and hike up to the top of the cliff. Then we wait, and wait, and wait some more. Mitch can’t take it anymore, so he and Adam head on back down the hill and across the bridge. Just then, the tram comes and Miranda and I get on.
“Will you hold my hand,” I ask Miranda.
“Oh, you scaredy cat,” Miranda replies.
The elderly conductor locks the door of the tram behind us, and the car of chattering tourists is silent in nervous anticipation. It lurches forward and I grab onto the side and look down, down, down. It is so FAR down. I try to listen as the conductor tells us the facts and figures about the Gorge, but I all I can hear is the voice inside my brain saying, “Now we are a quarter of the way there. Now we’re halfway there. Now we are there!”
We made it! It takes another 20 minutes of so for my heart rate to get back to normal. We spend another hour or so at the park and then have a picnic lunch outside the park grounds—until the biting flies chase us off. OK, now I can see why Adam hates picnics (and he HATES picnics).
Next, we head to Cripple Creek—subject of the Band song “Up on Cripple Creek” and a once-bustling gold boom town. Now, it is a kind-of -depressing Indian casino town, but we had fun riding the Cripple Creek railroad and learning about the gold boom times. We capped off our trip with some ice cream while watching oldsters play the slots.
We drive some more, up and down stunning green mountains and valleys, and take our tired, bedraggled selves out to dinner in Manitou Springs. Then it is time to get back to the hotel for some much needed rest. What’s on deck for tomorrow? We still gotta tackle Pikes Peak, but I think we’ll save the best for last.
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