Breckenridge Road

I’ve always been drawn to difficult things. The road up Breckenridge Mountain was incredibly steep, full of switchbacks and worn pavement. Barely one lane wide in places, and far from civilization, when I was 14 I decided to ride to the top on my bicycle. I never made it. Each time I tried I made it a little further. The view up there was incredible; it’s as if you were climbing above the clouds.

When I was 16, my friend Dan got a Honda 90 trail bike. We made it nearer to the top, perhaps 5,000 feet in the air. But Dan was a fool, he steered towards a patch of ice on the road. I jumped off when I couldn’t talk him out of it, and tucked and rolled with my camera. I never asked him to take me to the top again.

Eventually, I got my own car and drove to the top. Past the TV towers, dodging logging trucks, and down the dirt road on the other side. Technology can be wonderful; but the view from the bike was more rewarding. The sweat and delirium is what I remember most about this place. It was a hard road to travel, but it’s a road I remember.

I remember standing there, as the clouds passed right through me.