We continue north to Pueblo. We wonder if there is a pueblo in Pueblo. The desert was given a very good drink the night before
so it is very green. Crickets sing to us as we ride along. Cows and horses are very curious about us and walk towards us to try to
figure out what kind of animal we are. Well, we do have four legs. But what about those two heads? The highway traffic is light most
of the morning. Folks must be out recreating for the holiday still.
Colorado City is smaller than we imagined. It must be that more of it is hidden from our view. The miles go quicker in the afternoon
since we have more of a downhill run. We watch a coal fired electrical plant get closer in the distance. When we finally link up with
the electrical plant we pass what we think is an open pit coalmine right next to it.
All along we see those big signs professing that bikes are on the road. With no warning we come across one that loudly proclaims,
"NO BIKES". Okay, what are we supposed to do? There is no other road. No place to get off the road. We wonder where the bikes
are supposed to go all at once. We continue because we have no choice. Finally we come to the very road we wanted to use to
exit the interstate anyway and get off.
Pueblo has very interesting architecture. It is the county seat. It has a neoclassical
style courthouse with small rectangular boxes
at each door. The boxes invite us to place our hand inside for recognition in order to open the door. We do so but the door does not
open. I guess we need get a hand to get in and it must not be ours. The jail was ½ block away complete with a couple of inmates in
black and white striped shorts painting white lines on the pavement. There were cameras all about which is probably why they did
not run off.
We meet a cyclist who tells us the way to the Reservoir using the greenbelt that runs 15 miles along the Arkansas River.
The town folk had decorated the concrete bank on one side with huge murals, advertisements, and messages. They are very nice.
Taggers must have thought so, too, because there is no graffiti. 
We meet a trail ranger along the way. He is about 15 years old and has a couple of 10 year olds tagging along with him that he
is impressing with tales of all his trail ranger adventures. Bec wants to stop and ask him what a trail ranger is but he is too busy
keeping his chargees in line to take time to talk to her. We met a nice couple on bikes who tried to give us directions to a mystical
bike trail that goes all the way from Colorado Springs to Denver without so much as one car. They try to show us on the map, but it
is futile because we are sure we will get very lost if we stray too far from the plan.
Many people are fishing. There must be something in the river. After arriving at the reservoir we need to forage for food.
All we can find is a Marina that carries hot dogs and things like that. Looks like we get dogs for dinner and breakfast.
On our way to camp we pass prairie dog town. The little critters are so cute. They pop their heads up and chatter at us as
we go by. Our campsite looks out over the lake with a cool breeze blowing. We can see lightening again in the distance. Looks
like another light show tonight. Winds come up and worry the tent. Bec holds on. Louie sleeps. During the evening a tornado skirts
the area. No wonder the wind wanted to take the tent!