Ruby Hill Park

9/15-About 10 AM

About a three-mile bike ride from campus, the route to Ruby Hill Park is busy, and packed with cars and bustling people, all in a rush for some reason I cannot comprehend. On this first ride I managed to look past the borderline chaos that I was riding by, instead focusing on what one would not usually notice.  I passed Platt Park first, a small grass rectangle with a playground in the back corner. While not the most exciting of parks, I watched as mothers helped their children down the slides, hoisted them up to the monkey bars, or simply just watched as their child enjoyed this public commodity. Platt Park seemed to be doing exactly what it was supposed to be doing; it fit. After crossing 85, I rode alongside the Overland Golf Course, one I have been wanting to play. A fence separated the well-kept fairways from the sidewalk I was riding on, that was alright though, I could still see all I wanted. Rounding the final corner that would set me on a straight shot for the bike park, I crossed a bridge, with a beautifully flowing river under it. It was unexpected, the rare beauty snuck into this neighborhood. Arriving at Ruby Hill I realized that there was much more to the park than I had come for. I was drawn to Ruby Hill because of its public bike park, featuring everything from beginner pump tracks to pro slopestyle lines that I could only gaze at. The mounds of dirt I had come to ride caught my eye at first, but not long after I stopped my bike, and looked all around me. I noticed the playground on top of a long, beautiful grass field, a grass field which had a pair of gorgeous Pinyon Pines in the middle. The leaves rustled in the wind, branches from each tree reaching out to one another, as if a warm embrace between two great friends. I noticed the softball fields are below the hill, I imagine it's a hot spot for young recreational league games all the way up to 65+ leagues, playing the same role nonetheless. During my time at Ruby Hill I watched, I listened, I explored, and I did my best to disconnect from whatever was going on outside of the perimeter of this park. I listened to the birds chirping, whizzing from tree to tree, seemingly never satisfied with what they found. I heard the wind blowing down the hill, towards the river, leaving each blade of grass with a little more bend than it previously had. Loudest of all, I heard the community garden. I saw the fenced in area as I was making my way out of the park, thinking I had observed everything I was ready to be on my way. Missing the garden would have been a huge misstep though, I could hear the community, through the endless buzzing sound, and the bugs I saw whip from plant to plant, it is no doubt the most alive part of the park. Seeing the garden left me with mixed emotions, all of the life was amazing to observe, and it gave me great joy to see such a diverse ecosystem in a public park. In the back of my mind though, I imagined what the garden may look like come my final visit to Ruby Hill, bleak, dead, no more flourishing colors, or buzzing insects with the intent to survive. I will have to wait and see. 

Although my site is Ruby Hill Park, I wanted to take this entry to reflect on another place I explored in nature. On Sunday, we departed at 4 AM with Mount Elbert in sight, all of our first 14ers, and the tallest one at that. Despite having to roll out of bed before the sun came up, it was still an incomparable feeling. Knowing that we were going to do something we had never done before, Elbert was also by far the longest hike any of us had gone on. On our way there, the sun slowly but surely came up, unveiling the mountain landscape as the morning progressed. 

As we entered Leadville, the valley opened up, and across the way we could see Elbert, the sun barely touching the peak of the mountain, almost as if to highlight the goal for the day. From there, it continued to improve. As we gained elevation, things continued to get more beautiful; everywhere you looked, there was something notable.  The Aspen trees are a mix of fiery orange and yellows this time of year, appearing on fire during their transformation.