Random Vistas, Tempus Fugit

With enough experience, equipping and launching a bike expedition before dawn may become routine. However, it is still an adventure! I may be telling tales out of turn, but my neighbor also likes to go on bike rides. A water bottle and helmet is all that bike rider needs to go—during the daylight hours.

In the hour before sunrise on the Fourth of July, I was alone and even the mornings trains were empty as they sped along next to sparsely populated streets. I had a water bottle for the trip like my neighbor, but I also carried my drones, extra clothes, tools, and a first-aid kit. Instead of sunglasses, I wear goggles with a clear lens when I ride in the dark. So I carried an extra pair, along with my reading glasses, having remembered them (this time).

I had ridden east next to Bear Creek before making my way south along the South Platte River on a solo journey to the Creekside Experience Park in Littleton, a path I had followed many times previously during the light of the day. This morning, I encountered only one other bicyclist, riding in the opposite direction in the dark. Taking my time, I was able to ride past the industrial part of west Littleton and setup the drones for flight.

The glow of the sunrise burned on the horizon, and the view from my drones made Santa Fe Drive look like defensive bulwarks against an encroaching darkness spreading from the burning light. It was a different scene than most, and I’ve visited this park many times before, and have years worth of photos of the area.

On this morning, two fully loaded pickup trucks were stopped in the entrance to the parking lot. The group, likely resting or waiting for access to a storage unit to pick up or drop off items, soon continued on their way. I was on the other side of the tiny park, which is also neighbor to a dog shelter and firefighting training structures, including burnt-out shells of multi-story buildings.

On this day, the clouds blocked the sun from shining directly during the sunrise, but the sky was just beginning to clear over Denver. I packed up for the ride back home, and riding homeward was just as quiet as the journey outward.

I stopped at the confluence of Bear Creek and the South Platte River on my way back home and took some photos to add to my collection of Loretto Heights.

The clouds continued to clear while the daylight grew, and the rest of the ride home was almost as quiet as the journey in the dark. I had one visitor while I was stopped: a general aviation, single-engine airplane flew overhead and around the area, making circular passes above me as I kept my drone well below his flight path during its short flight.

When I returned home, the sun was shining in oblivious unrecognition of the darkness just left behind. I hope we all can leave the gloom behind us, although I personally feel it must be faced and documented, best I can.

Thanks for reading all the way to the end!