We woke up, ready to start on the next leg of our journey. Except that I felt awful. Headache, nausea, vomiting and just general feeling of absolute blah. So this is altitude sickness I thought (strange that I didn't get it in Peru at 12,000 feet, but this is now).
The day ended up taking a different turn. We decided to stay put, watched movies, went to Rita's Place, where she fed us (I ate a bagel, ever ever so slowly and a gingeralesque soda) and told us some of her story after we had been back a few times. Her mother was sort of a gypsy and after a while they had travelled cross country from Jersey and landed in CO. She raised her two valedictorian kids, and when they were gone, swearing that she couldn't work another day at a computer, gave it up to open the restaurant in Guffey. She was very sweet to us, she called the nearby clinic so that I could get some advice on handling my "altitude sickness" as well as calling her volunteer firefighter friend Steve to bring me some asprin (to thin the blood). Steve also tried to get me some oxygen but the fire chief had already gone home. So the day was restful and full of naps and some exploring (on Andy's part). He went up to meet Bill (Coleen's hubby) who gave him the key to the old city hall, now called the "Chicken Fly" which is full of crazy sculptural found objects, put together in a way that is only not tacky in a 26 person town in the mountains of CO. I think he wandered around the town and went back to the Saloon for dinner, where he grabbed me a baked potatoe (apparently lots of carbs are good, but very low fat).
I was paranoid about the wood stove sucking more oxygen out of the cabin, so I wouldn't let Andy start a fire that night.
Went to bed hoping to feel better in the morning and set off.
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