Good luck in Hartsel, on to Silverthorne and I-70

7/5

I must have slept a little bit funny, because when I awoke my right hip was hurting and it was difficult to walk (it felt fine the night before). This is not good, but isn’t related to riding, or so I think.

Lee joined us for a big breakfast at the Country Cafe down the road, then was off to Leadville to resume work on his adventure for the summer: a new house. It was really great to see him and to have someone join us for a day on the GDMBR. We hope to meet up with him later in Colorado or even in Montana. We were also able to ditch some stuff with him–our camp chair, a sheet for warmer camping, our dead MP3 player and our completed maps #1 and #2. We were also able to trade cateye LED lights (one of ours is having serious problems). So thanks to Lee we’re all tuned up and ready to go.

We rested in the motel until checkout (why is it 10am so often?), then headed over to walmart. We got a tiny $50 mp3 player that is essentially a USB hard drive, a bit of food, new sunglasses for Paula (old ones scratched beyond belief) and some bungee cords (we somehow lost two that night). It was pretty strange to see all those people and all those choices for food and other junk. I felt like we should keep walking around to find something we might need, but I was also happy to get out of there.

We rode into town to find Absolute Bikes. Things were really hopping in there since everyone has the day off. They seemed to have anything a GDMBR rider could need, though most of the conversation was focused on the ‘crest’ (shuttle) trail. Lee knows the owner who supposedly knew we were coming (and we wanted to ask about the racers coming through), but it was too busy. As we were leaving one of the employees asked if we were riding today. “Yes, that’s pretty much all we do these days.” He had seen all the racers and was pretty excited about it. Then he mentioned that he did a “12 hour singletrack ride with a group of only local, hardcore riders on rigid singlespeeds.” Hardcore local riders on rigid singlespeeds… is that supposed to impress? It was more an indication that they are nothing close to hardcore and were afraid to climb anything steep or difficult. Does the 12 hours include 6 at the bar getting drunk? He was a nice guy, but he exemplified the hardcore attitude of many of the Salida folk.

We ate next door at the even busier Salida Cafe. My Boca burger was quite tasty, but the posers abounded. Much talk of cycling and singletrack could be heard. But was anyone actually out riding? I’m not so sure. Surely there were some real people in the midst, but it is difficult to tell. They had free wireless internet, but I couldn’t get it to roll, so we packed up and left for the mountains.

Up the Ute trail we rode, where no one else was out riding. It was a nice steep grade and at first my right leg ached and begged me to stop. After a mile or so it felt better and riding was mostly pain-free. We climbed 3000 feet in 10 miles, then descended into a high valley with very few trees. The hills rolled on covered in green grass. It was pleasant riding….. until the winds picked up. We had storms to our right and storms to our left. Any time we turned slightly westward it was a struggle with the wind.

We passed hopeful subdivision road after hopeful subdivision road, all leading to nowhere (it seems only the lots with trees on them have sold). Then things got ugly. We got a little drizzle, so we stopped to let the clouds float away from us. This worked, but it was getting late and we could not afford to wait forever. The storms parked on the distant mountains, so it looked good for the next 10 miles or so.

It may have looked good, but it didn’t feel good. We found nothing but ridiculous winds. After fighting to keep about 7 mph on a steep downhill for miles, we stopped to take shelter in a ditch/drainage. My Bob-parked bike soon toppled over. I checked the storms every few minutes by emerging from our shelter. A few times I could barely stand while up there. It was too strong to even attempt to ride.

I still couldn’t really tell if we would get the big rains evident all around us. A few cars came flying by, including a firetruck with lights flashing. Eventually it was just getting to late, and it was now only blowing very strongly instead of ridiculously strong, so we put on all our clothes and resumed combat. Amazingly we were able to keep 8mph or so (still downhill), but we were getting hammered.

We saw the flashing lights of the firetruck in the distance, then watched a helicopter take off from there (in these winds?!?). When we got there we saw the SUV that had rolled right off a turn, and many police/fire vehicles parked there. We took shelter on one side of the warm vehicles for a minute, then, out of nowhere the sun peaked out. Things grew calm. We were OK and could hear ourselves think.

Our reward was beautiful golden hillsides, with deep evening shadows framed by dark swirling clouds and visible 14,000 peaks in the distance. It was surreal. A couple easy miles followed, then the wind returned to harass us again. It was not easy to get to Hartsel, where we hoped to find some kind of shelter or a kind soul to help us out. The storms were getting closer (or, we had ridden closer to them).

Hartsel didn’t even have a kind word for us. The only thing open was the bar, where the woman was less than helpful. She was too busy playing her video poker and chain smoking. She said there was nowhere to stay and nowhere to camp. The gas station was closed, the supposedly friendly Doc Holladay Cafe was closed (apparently moving somewhere else).

A motorcycle rider who was on the GDMBR (we saw the maps) came and asked us if WE knew anywhere to stay, then said he was riding south to find something. It was looking pretty grim.

We tried calling the ‘Hartsel Springs Ranch’ which was supposedly a lodge, but no-one answered. We decided to just head out there and see what we could find, in a last ditch we’d through our stuff over the ranching fence and camp where hopefully no one would yell at us. We had the tailwind (finally) down RD 59 to the Ranch, but as we rode we got drenched with rain and blown all around. As we approached we saw some cabins, but no cars. Then, we saw one car by a house.

I rang the door bell and a half naked man answered and looked at me confused. I asked if this was a lodge and there was anything available. He asked how long we were going to stay, then told us we could have cabin 2 without mentioning a price. I was just happy someone was there. We checked it out and it was super nice. I walked back over to ask how much and how I could pay him, but he responded by saying that he couldn’t charge us for it, to just stay for free. Wow. Then he showed us the other building, the lodge, and offered us food and buffalo burgers. They have 2000 head of Buffalo (on the land we rode through, I saw one). He even gave us fresh towels and a bottle of shampoo. This was too good to be true.

The cabin was very nice (better than any hotels we’ve had thus far), though we did have a few other inhabitants including a bat, a mouse and a big beetle. But we were just happy to be warm and out of the wind. Chris was the managers name. He had just moved here 3 weeks ago to take over management. He said they were going to build new cabins then start charging, but he had some other cyclists and a big group of anglers stay for free in the last week or so.

7/6

One thing I forgot to mention about last night’s desperation was that Paula only had a single gear on her rear derailluer, making us even slower. There was no time (and it was impossible to diagnose in that wind), so we just kept going.

This morning at the cabin I took apart the shifter to find the cable completely frayed and broken. A new cable did the trick and we were on the road fairly early. We wrote a note and thanked Chris and his family for his hospitatlity. The cabin was super–the largest and nicest place we have stayed at yet. But we did have some visitors–a bat flew around the kitchen a few times and a mouse scurried around the floor.

The miles to Como were easy and fast. We were out of water (ride light, eh?) but found both the restaurant and store closed, so we ate Tuna waiting for the store owner to return (a half hour or so). As we ate a cyclist pulled up, also looking for food/water. Mark had ridden from ‘breck’ over the big pass. He’s an airline pilot who gets week days off to go play. After eating huge cinnamon rolls at the store the three of us headed off to climb the pass.

Another railroad grade, Boreas Pass seemed almost too easy. Talking to Mark made it go quickly too. It’s always nice to ride with someone else for a short stretch.

The views all around were incredible and some of the best of the trip. We cruised down to Breck, which, unfortunately, the less I say about the better. It was odd to see so many cyclists around and not have a single one ask us anything about our trip. The words trendy and yuppie come to mind. One in every 4 cars had bikes on the roof, which seemed friendly to us, but we barely got a hello on the bike path from anyone. The path was a bit long, but mostly downhill and pretty nice–trees, lakes and cool air. We got confused all over the place through the towns, but eventually landed at the 1st Inn on highway 9 (in Silverthorne), which we will head out onto tomorrow.

70 miles, 5100 feet of climbing.

7/7

We’ve decided to hole up in Silverthorne for a rest day. It just seems like the right thing to do. We’ve been riding for 17 days and making good progress. Part of me wants to continue riding, but at the same time, we’re not racing and this is our vacation. It would be nice to do something a little different for a change.

Another big issue is that I haven’t at all looked at the route from here northwards. I spent hours studying maps and journals for the route to Del Norte. From there things were pretty hazy and we wasted some time trying to follow the maps, or unsure of how the day would unfold. Coming in to Breckenridge was really confusing, and all we wanted to do was get to Silverthorne to stop and rest. It doesn’t help that the directions and narratives are backwards (for riding N to S). This works out just fine on forest roads and trails, but in urban areas (and this is about our first real one) it’s a nightmare. I think I need a day for study.

It may also turn out that we ride faster, in the end, with a rest day. Paula is feeling like she can put some large miles in, and the upcoming terrain looks easier than what we’ve done before. Water is also not as much of a problem, so we’re traveling lighter. If we can recharge a bit today, who knows, maybe we’ll be able to push harder tomorrow.

Let’s see, what other weenie excuses can I come up with for taking a day off? My hip still hurts, but it getting better, uhh, we’re just wimps–that’s a good one.

There’s a free bus system, bike trails, and plenty of places to eat, so I think we’re pretty much set. I’d rather be out camping somewhere in some ways, but the promise of tons prepared food we’re not carrying is just too tempting.

1 comment to Good luck in Hartsel, on to Silverthorne and I-70

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