When I did my RTD infrastructure ride for the N-Line, I took a short diversion into Riverside Cemetery. As I rode into the cemetery from a road scarily close to traffic, it felt as, for a moment, the city disappeared. The graves started out small, increasing in size while I road into the cemetery.
The final resting place of territorial governors, mayors, and civic leaders, Riverside was built in conjunction with the celebrations of the Centennial by the new State of Colorado.
Flash forward 145 years, however, and Riverside feels a bit like an anachronism compared to the surrounding area. To get to the cemetery, I had to take a journey under a dangerous freeway underpass, go by the headquarters of the infamous Suncor Corporation, and ride right by a giant impoundment lot. On the horizon of the cemetery, the smoke stacks of a power plant billowed with the strangling smell of industry that defines much of North Denver.
But, at the cemetery, I felt peace and solitude, save a handful of cars that were around.
I thought about the cemetery a lot on my RTD ride. October is the month where the dead and the cemetery as an area of horror and unnatural monstrosities come to rise is glamorized.
Yet, out of any of the places I rode that day, riding through the cemetery was a welcome distraction from traffic and difficult navigation.
If I find more solace in the resting place of the dead than the surroundings creations of the living, is the setting of long dead monsters worse than the living monsters we have created around us?
*Featured image is a shot from Riverside Cemetery*