On the Peak to Peak Highway yesterday, I met two local cyclists riding recumbents. When I asked them about the best route to Boulder, they told me to take the Riverside Driv,and then get on highway 36. "Really, the big highway?" I asked.
"Yep," the man replied. "There's almost more cyclists than cars out there. Enjoy it: you're in bicycle country, now!"
It's a bit disorienting. Here in Boulder, as in Portland, bikes are not only a primary means of transport, but also of self-expression. All kinds of people, with or without helmets, and with or without concern for traffic, flit in and out of traffic and crowd the streets. This was the first time that I've arrived in a town (Pearl Street, where a friend works at the Boulder Cafe) and was unable to find parking: every bike rack, every sign post was already a tangled mess of tires and handle bars. I'd never seen anything like it.
It also meant that my rig attracted a lot of attention. Sometimes it was good. "Hey, sweet ride!" yelled a girl from the sidewalk as I rolled past. And the rest of the attention was.. not what I wished. It was hard to tell if the boys who were cat-calling after me were more interested in me or my bike.
So it's refreshing, I guess. But after so many days alone on the road, it feels like too many people sometimes. I think ill be looking forward to getting back on the road again in a week or so.
I always like to imagine cat calls as a bunch of cute kittens that meow at me from the sidewalk. :)
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