Four Years Ago...

today, I came so close to becoming a "Ghost Bike" ( ghostbikes.org ) on Highway 2 in Montana. 

You can read the traumatic details from last year's anniversary blog.

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2014/07/three-years-ago.html

This year I'll write about the quiet carnage taking place on America's highways and byways. 

In 2013, there were 743 bicycle fatalities in the U.S. In the same year there were 224 airline crash fatalities. When an aircraft loses its war on gravity, it's a media event.  It's big, it's dramatic and there's photos and video to draw in viewers. 

Not so with bicycle fatalities. Like a sniper going about his business over a large battlefield, the deaths are random and detached. Plink! Plink! Plink! For example: 141 victims in California, yet only one in Alaska spread out over a calendar year of time. 

Outside of a small circle of friends and family, the general population is unaffected by the sudden tragedy. Yet, the death toll continues to mount. Why is that? 

The sad truth (I believe) is the prevailing attitude amongst Americans. 

Here's the bumper sticker sized thought, "The cyclist had it coming. They were asking for it by riding on the road."

Trust me, NO cyclist ever asks to get struck by a speeding chunk of big medal. It hurts! 

Malcolm Stephenson's sedan rear-ended me at 50 MPH. A Montanan State Policeman issued him four felony charges. (Serious stuff). Mr. Stephenson spoke to a lawyer, copped a plea and paid the state of Montana $250 in court fees. That's it. There was  no restitution from the perpetrator to me. He never even apologized. 

When judges and juries start to levy real penalties and fines against the accused, maybe then the word will trickle down to all motorists. Hit a human on a bicycle = pay the price. Until then, the slaughter will continue.

BTW: I won't say bicyclists are angels who are always guilt free. Oftentimes, riders are their worst enemy. In 2013, 63% of the deceased failed to don a helmet. 21% were riding under the influence of alcohol. Bad bicyclists! 

So when you are driving, please pay attention to those folks on two wheels. When you are cycling, please stick a helmet on your noggin. 

I'm so happy there wasn't a ghost bike set out on MT Highway 2 because of me. 

Be safe out there,

Jeff

A Visit to a Southwest Troublemaker...

I wasn't looking for any hassles when I hiked upstream from the Colorado River Trailhead to see the birth canal of the most litigated waterway in the world. 

The Colorado River (formerly known as the Grand River until 1921), begins its long journey to the courthouses (mostly the Supreme Court) near La Poudre Pass in RMNP. The river rarely ever makes it to the delta it once formed in Baja California. Every drop is appropriated between the Upper Basin States (Colorado, Wyoming, New Mexico and Utah) and the Lower Basin states (Arizona, Nevada and California). What little remains, sometimes goes to Mexico. 

The river has hardly had its umbilical cord severed before half of its cargo gets diverted east along the Grand Ditch. I guess I can't complain seeing the ditch provides some of the water I drank in Fort Collins, Colorado. It's also a major component of IPA microbrewery beer! There's rumors out there, some people use it for showering, agriculture and even laundry. But that's just a rumor. 

The problem is (despite a big water year like 2015 in Colorado) there's still not enough to quench the thirst of the 40 million people who live both in and outside of its watershed. Who knows where this will end? Probably in the Supreme Court again. 

Use water wisely please.

Cheers

Jeff

On a day that felt...

more like early-May than post-summer solstice, I headed uphill toward Timber Lake in RMNP.

When I closed in on tree line, there was hail, a few rogue lightning bolts and moose.

I love moose. They are an animal designed by a painfully hungover committee. While elk have the grace, style and class of Michael Jordan in his prime. Moose are content to have evolved from Homer Simpson. Doh! 

The committee members added aquatic talents to their long list of descriptors. Decades ago, I saw a bull wade out into a lake on Isle Royale National Park. He went Tarzan for 45 seconds below the surface. Who the heck knows what he was doing under the water. Eating? Looking at the fish? Checking out the view? 

I didn't ask and he didn't tell.

Warming trend on the horizon in Grand Lake, Colorado.

Yay!

Cheers!

Jeff