High above the town of Crested Butte, CO is the old homesite of Elkton. Established in the late 1800's for the purpose of mining gold, it has long since been abandoned and only a few remnants such as wood pilings and rusted machinery remain. The allure of exploring the high country here is the anticipation of discovering something unique just around the corner. Taking a day off from running (actually hiking) in preparation for Hardrock next week, I scoot up a Forest Service road on my motorcycle for it is quicker to get to 11,000 feet that way than walk and to be honest my glute needs a break. I can't place the year or even the make of the rusted out jalopy riddled with bullet holes that sits, where at one time the key was turned off and its life of motoring up and down this pass ceased. Someone walked away and probably intended to return for old Bessy but never did. I hear around town from locals that aside from the mountains, this old truck is the most popular photo. Yep. It is today. Looking at it, I crawl inside and take a seat and try to look over a steering wheel that is as smooth as my forehead. The life of this truck ended years ago. Parked and left for dead. Nothing is infinite I tell myself and the only thing constant is change. It is evident in this old beaten frame of steel rusted beyond recognition. True that. My ass is sore, my leg aches and I have 100 miles to cover next week in the San Juans. Ahhhh, but it can change in a second I tell myself, "If this old truck can weather the storms so can I".
I press in the clutch and disappear down the valley... Silverton here I come... .
