Scott's GDMBR 2004 Journal, Page 2/4
6/29
We awoke to raindrops on our tent at about 5am. Perfect timing, since the sun was just up. It continued for the next 45 minutes then cleared up. We got up slowly, cleaned the bikes extensively and ate some breakfast.
We decided that we would take a “rest” day today–only ride the ~20 miles into Abiquiui where we could find one of the last hotels for a number of days. Yesterday’s terrain and brutal thunderstorm has definitely taken its toll on us. But it’s funny, we’re actually feeling pretty good and want to keep going. But sometimes the best time to take a break is exactly when you are feeling good. We could easily pound out another 60-70 miles, but we’ll elect not to.
The downhill into Abuiquiu was mostly a blast – the final 2000 feet in a 2400 foot descent. There were a few short climbs and some horrendous washboards on the final county road (189) into town. We found Bodie’s general store full of good groceries, then headed on to the Abuiqui Inn. Wow, $100 for their cheapest room, which made us glad we stayed the night up on Polvadera ridge instead of pushing on through the dark to get to a $100 Inn. Instead we were checking in at 11am to a very nice (but still too expensive) room where we could relax and regroup for the next push on the GDMBR.
The trip thus far has been quite the adventure. Wow, is all I can say. I love so many aspects of it. We just keep riding north every day–each day we get closer to Canada. I am so used to doing big loops for rides where you start and end at the same place. Now each day is new, unknown and calling of adventure. We’re exploring new areas and riding into virtually unknown situations. I love it that we’re doing all this without motor vehicles and on infrequently traveled roads. The route has been very well planned out thus far–traversing huge mountains, quiet forest roads and even (yesterday) technical terrain. We just keep riding because that’s what we do. It feels great. Through we have been through quite a few tough situations and often wish certain portions would just end, overall the whole experience is invigorating. I can’t wait each day to see new mountains and to see how far we can make it that day. By all accounts we should be tired to death right now, but we are not. Why is this? Averaging over 60 miles a day for 10 days straight over challenging and steep mountain roads should have burned us by now. We even had a deathmarch of a first day. But still we keep going and feeling it. It’s awesome.
We head into more high country tomorrow including several sections above 10,000 feet. We’re excited, however our desire to encounter any mountain storms like we did yesterday is fairly low. Yet another reason to chill here in Abuiquiu: it’s supposed to be clearing out as the week rolls on.
6/30
An incredible day today. We started somewhat late out of Abiquiu (elev. 5900) to begin one of today’s many climbs. The first was on pavement for 12 or so miles to the town of El Rito (elev. 7000). It was easy enough, but last night’s downpour left the air quite humid, so we really sweat this climb out.
In El Rito we turned onto FR 44 to climb into the mountains. FR 44 was a nice quiet dirt road through stands of Ponderosa pines. It was, however, extremely rutted, which was ok for us (we always had the choice of a good line), but would make for some difficult driving. Thus, we did not see a single vehicle on FR 44. Up to 8200 we climbed, only to drop down to 7500 in the town of Vallecitos. Then, more pavement to the town of Canon Plaza.
As we rolled past barking dogs and a group of friendly people walking (gasp) down the highway, we saw the tiny “Snack Shack” on the side of the road. It was filled to the brim with chips, candies and drinks. “Honk Please” the sign said. Paula laid on her Monkey horn and soon Silvia came riding a mountain bike down to meet us. She opened up the shop and let us choose whatever suited our fancy. I drank a Hawaiian Punch and ate a Rice Krispie treat, a Twix and a bag of chips. All the while we talked to Silvia about her little (for fun) business and all the other riders she had seen over the years. Only one other group had signed the guestbook this year and it didn’t have a date!
We thanked her for the tasty snacks and as we were leaving her dogs kept stealing Paula’s handkerchief (that she was using for her hair). Datson the dog kept taking it and trying to tear it. He even grabbed it out of her pannier bag. Eventually he took off into the woods with it, playing tug of war with “Jaws"–the other dog.
While we snacked the winds picked up and things were threatening rain. I was getting worried about the upcoming climb to Burned Mountain (10,192 feet). But as we left things started to lift and clear up. The climb out of Canon Plaza was quite nice. I was feeling top so the climbing melted away. I felt like I could climb to 14,000, let alone 10.
We rode through areas that were straight out of the Wasatch–even moreso than the Jemez mountains. We were treated to some excellent mountain vistas where the trees cleared, and, tons and tons of Aspens.
We crested the ridge of Burned Mountain fairly easily, then dipped down to 9700 only to climb back to 10,000 and Hopewell Lake. About 0.2 miles from the top a mountain biker approached. I thought this was odd–he was obviously a serious rider and had very little gear so at first I thought he was just out riding. Then he seemed familiar somehow–hey, it’s Mike Curiak and our first Great Divide Race (GDR) racer.
He was a super nice guy, stopping to chat with us (and eat some of our food). I’ve never seen anyone so happy to have a Cliff Bar (which was pretty much all he wanted). He was completely out of food and bonking when he met us, so it was good timing. Mike started 2 days before we did (from Canada!). He’s got almost 2000 miles while we’ve gone 600 or 700. He is absolutely flying. We told him a bit about the upcoming conditions and then wished him well. I couldn’t believe how light he was traveling. But, that’s the way to do it!
We rolled on past the lake and saw more cyclists–this time on road bikes. 3 guys, one from Sweden, one from Mexico City and one from Vancouver were cycling from New Jersey to LA. We chatted a bit and told them about the GDMBR then were off down US 64 for some of the easiest miles of the trip.
30 mph downhill for 5 miles. As we descended it got nicely warmer, then we turned to climb up to the Tusas Ridge. We were still feeling great so the climbing was easy. Here the views were astounding and the best yet. Cisneros Park was incredible. You could see faraway ridges that extended above the tree line. Big booming meadows with groves of aspens next to stands of Pines. The evening sun lit up the green hills so nicely. I felt like I could ride up there forever.
But the sun was dropping, so around 8pm we found a place to camp near the Rio San Antonio. As we set up camp another cyclist–Pete in 2nd place and maybe 6 hours behind Mike rolled. It is still anyone’s race. He looked quite tired and only gave a “Hey” and a wave to us as he passed. He was losing daylight, so I didn’t blame him for not stopping.
Tomorrow, we face Brazos ridge and supposedly some difficult riding. We climbed an almost ridiculous amount today, but the riding was still pretty easy.
75 miles, 8700 feet of climbing.
7/1
We had super weather today for climbing, and we had plenty to do. We awoke to frost and ice on the tent poles, so it was a bit of a slow morning. But eventually we rolled out at 8800 feet. From there we climbed to 9700 then dropped. Here we saw our first view of the challenge: Brazos Ridge. It looked mellow enough, but it towered high above us.
The adventure cycling profiles are once again way off for this section. They claim the high point is a tad above 10,500 when actually (on GPS and the USGS map) it nearly reaches 11,000. 10,967 was the highest I saw on my 60CS.
True to form the hardest part was at or near the very top. It was some very nice granny gear, hold onto your bars for dear life style of riding. I was hoping for just that. I managed to clean it all, and was feeling great. Paula, on the other hand, was feeling like pooh. The climbs (and especially) the rocks were just a bit too much, and even though I felt great the climbs and descents did never seem to end. It was slow progress. By early afternoon we were only 30 miles into it, when usually we have racked up much more. I think the lack of progress was shambilizing Paula too.
We saw Mike Curiak’s wheel cutting deep into now solid ground–he said he walked/rode through 5 miles of mud up here. It’s amazing how fast it dried–we had very little problems getting through without mud on our bikes and it was only 24 hours or so later!
Mid descent we crossed into Colorado! One state down, 4 more to go.
We met a couple of jack-ass high school students on one of the descents. They came ripping by on an ATV, yelling and harassing us. Just down the hill they were loading the ATV into their truck and as we passed they yelled “Don’t get run over!". Puerile behavior just never gets old, does it?
We rolled down the descent a bit then went off into the trees, allowing them to pass without seeing us. Too bad, I’m sure it would have made their day to run us off the road, their lives are so boring that they need to harass others to make things interesting.
The pavement climb to La Mangas pass was excruciating because we were riding so slow and had so many cars passing us. The descent into the Conejos valley that followed was huge–I was thankful to not be riding up it.
At the restaurant in Horca (the town at the bottom, by the river) we saw a guy look hard at us from the deck. I looked around and noticed Bob’s and bikes in the parking lot. We had caught the riders of the wheels we have been following for days.
Kurt, Steve and Karen are from Pennsylvania and were a riot to talk to. They had many a hilarious story to tell (mostly about their mishaps, technicals and crashes) about the trail so far. We hope to meet up with them tomorrow to do a little riding.
We ate some tasty grub at the restaurant, then enquired at the Mountain Home Lodge to find that they no longer rent but are selling Condo’s–a correction to the map is needed here. So we took off up the Conejos valley to find some other cabins, but instead ended up at Conejos CG, just off the river. Currently the residents are mostly quiet, except our neighbors who are singing and harmonica-ing as I type. It’s 10:02pm, time for bed guys.
Unfortunately it’s a holiday weekend which could mean more traffic and full campgrounds/motels. Don’t you just love the Holidays?
7/2
Excellent climbing weather once again today. The sky was deep blue with the sun shining bright.
The warmup was to climb the town of Platoro (roughly 10,000 feet). It was easy enough, and the miles simply flew by compared to yesterday. We were there in no time.
The road here paralleled the Conejos River (which we camped within 10 feet of last night) up a huge canyon. The first 10 miles are strangely deceptive: it seemed to both Paula and I that we were riding downhill, though we were clearing gaining elevation and riding upstream of the rushing river. I guess yesterday was so steep that slight uphill now seems like down.
We ate PB&J sandwiches on the side of the road at Platoro. To our surprise vehicle after vehicle of tourists came rolling down the road to Platoro. We worried that it was going to be a busy day on these narrow mountain roads, but it turned out everyone was driving down from the reservoir to eat lunch.
Climb #1 was to Stunner Pass (10,541). It couldn’t stun or phase us. I rolled over the top hungry for more and without hardly breathing hard.
We coasted downhill from here back to below 10,000. On the descent huge views presented themselves including the spectacular little and big red mountains. These huge peaks tower above the valley and are naturally colored red, yellow and white by mineral deposits. They are quite unlike any mountain I’ve ever seen.
The next climb was a big one: to 11,600. It was steeper than Stunner but still had a great surface (compared to Brazos, Jemez or other New Mexican roads), so it did not seem difficult.
Steve, Kurt and Karen were resting in the middle of the climb. They were lying next to a bubbling creek with tasty cold water (we had pumped out of a previous stream but the water was too acidic to drink). We chatted some more and tried to convince them to continue climbing with us. They saddled up but let us go a bit early.
Switchbacks continued, higher and higher above 11,000 feet. We found ourselves in one of the most beautiful areas of the entire trip thus far. When we topped out into a basin we were really treated by huge alpine meadows framed by treeless peaks. Creeks and brooks crisscrossed across the valleys, dumping into snowmelt ponds. Everything was SO GREEN! It was almost surreal–an otherworldly place. Steve caught up to us where we stopped to take some photos. Photos, unfortunately, are powerless to convey anything about this area. Everywhere we turned we saw what would be an incredible photo.
This continued for 5-6 miles of high country riding. It was almost too good to be true. Eventually we said goodbye to Steve and Karen (who had also caught up to us) and rolled on for some more climbing. It was too bad they aren’t a bit faster because it would have been great to camp and ride with them. They were going to camp somewhere near the top of the big climb (brr… cold), while we were going to push on the Del Norte and a hotel room.
We passed summitville, site of a SuperFund cleanup project. All of the water has been severely contaminated by heavy metals, and there was definitely a metallic smell in the air. After watching man’s foolish stewardship of the land in New Mexico, namely cattle ranching, it was at least a change to see different foolishness. But it was still somewhat sad.
My thoughts turned to Indiana Pass, the high point of the entire GDMBR at 11,910 feet. I knew that it would not be technically challenging, but I was still quite charged during the initial ups and downs before it.
Finally my altimeter read 11,700 (the highest so far) and I knew the big climb had begun. Paula was ahead of me, hammering to beat me to the top. I struggled into higher gear but had difficulty catching her. She slowed down (she thought the top was closer than it was), and once I passed her I only dug deeper. It was just something about this being the highest climb we’ll do, and also a willingness to test myself at a somewhat high elevation. This was the highest I’ve ever ridden a bike (though I’ve hiked much higher), so I really let loose all the way to the top.
I nearly collapsed at the top, but rode it out in middle ring and with a world full of momentum. I circled and inspected the view I had just earned. Wow. I pulled out the camera to snap one of Paula cresting, then took a panorama.
A tiny hill after the pass took us a big higher–my altimeter read 11,960. Then we hankered down for a huge descent: 25 miles and a 4000 foot drop. We had to stop to rest our hands and upper body, but it was very pleasant. Endless groves of aspens and firs lined the road.
We hit pavement and soon saw 3rd place in the big race: Jan. He looked strong but frustrated by losing his way and equipment failures. He’s still setting an incredible pace. He’s got a big climb ahead of himself into some cold and high country. We wished him luck and cheered as he climbed away.
Del Norte seems a suitable place to eat huge amounts of food and get some well needed rest. We climbed much today, but compared to yesterday it was a piece of cake–all because the road was never too rough. Colorado might not be so hard.
66 miles, 6500 feet of climbing.
7/3
Let it be known that Lee Blackwell is always one for devious plans. And today was no exception. He noticed a large bend in the GDMBR route that could be short-cut to make a loop. This would enable him to drive out, cut the loop, then ride with us for a few days back towards Salida. And it’s in an area where he’s always wanted to ride: the Colorado trail along the divide south of Marshall Pass.
So the plan was to meet around 5-6pm on State Highway 114. We had about 50 miles to ride and one pass to conquer and Lee had about the same distance and some unknown trail conditions.
It was a bit of a dubious plan, for sure, but if it would work it would be golden. A nice side effect of this plan was that we got a lazy morning to relax and recover a bit. So we checked out late, washed some clothes and did some internet stuff. We ate a big breakfast and a gas station lunch.
We rolled out around 12:30 from Del Norte. It looked like it was going to be warm, but the breeze kept us cool. We quickly left town and found ourselves in the middle of nowhere. It was a very interesting road through some high desert country. It was actually nice to be out of the trees and into the desert, though not the hot desert. The rocks soon began to remind me of Tucson Mountain Park. There were some sections (ledges even) that were straight from the park. Even the cliff faces around were reminders of TMP.
The road wound out of the way, paralleling our next road, so it was a bit frustrating and also a bit sandy, but I like these sections of little used and fun roads, rather than all forest and wide graded roads.
As we cycled up through the sandy road I had a swarm of butterflies continually following me. They were all around on the surrounding rocks and grass, and as I rode they kept flying around randomly.
We turned right on “old woman’s creek” road and flew down the valley with an incredible tailwind. This continued for 10 miles, all above 20 mph. Wow.
Of course it was short lived and we soon were climbing with that wind in our faces. Ouch. Gradual slow climbing up Carnero Creek. But the climb was easy enough as soon we were back in the trees with rock faces galore. Nice stuff, really. We topped out at Carnero Pass (10,161 feet) then rolled down to find Lee.
We didn’t see him by the Forest Boundary and momentarily I was worried that we wouldn’t meet up. The trail could have been bad, non-existent or anything could have gone wrong. But then I remembered who I was dealing with. I knew Lee would make it to us, by hook or by crook; it was only a matter of when. We hopped back on to spin down towards 114 and sure enough Lee was waiting by the side of the road.
It was great to see a friend from Arizona. We rode the highway to Rabbit Canyon (about 5 miles) then rolled up the dirt to find a place to camp.
Then, boom, our first bike problem: Paula’s rear went flat! We pumped the slime tube up but it kept deflating. Currently it is holding air, we’ll check it in the morning. But, so much for our perfect record of no flats.
56 miles, 4800 feet of climbing
7/4
Big day today: 95 miles from our camp in Rabbit Canyon all the way to Salida. It wasn’t exactly an easy day since we climbed two passes – Cochetopa at 10,100 and Marshall at 10,870.
The heavy slime we’ve hauled around in our tubes has decided to earn its pay: Paula’s flat rear tire held all night and throughout the 95 miles of the day. Amazing.
We got a good start (no frost on the tent and a nice warm morning), and soon wound our way up to Cochetopa pass and another continental divide crossing. The Cochetop hills were a nice, pleasant surrounding. Nothing spectacular compared to what we have seen, but sometimes comparing areas is fruitless. The road throughout was a very nice surface–almost like pavement.
We popped back onto State Road 114 for a mile or so then realized we were fairly low on water. 14PP, the road over to Doyleville, didn’t seem like it had any creeks, so we were a bit desperate. Normally I would have filled up higher up, near Dome Lake, but for some reason we just forgot. At any rate, we inquired at a Colorado road maintenance yard (the only thing that was there), but the guy there was not being helpful. He said he didn’t have any he could give us and that the water that comes out of his hose is not good for drinking. Uh, huh. Lee chatted with him for a while and it turns out he’s tired of cyclists and hikers coming in and asking for stuff. It’s an almost understandable position except when you realize that the number of people asking is still minute, and that you don’t have to be even a remotely kind person to grant someone’s request of water. How you can refuse such a request (as this guy did) is almost unfathomable.
As we sat there a cyclist rolled down 14PP without carrying a load. She and her husband are riding the Colorado section of the GDMBR in pieces–whenever they can get the time. This was there last section of dirt to ride. She said her husband would be down with the truck and plenty of water, then she turned to hammer back up to meet him. A microburst storm kicked up a drizzle and a powerful wind, but she was unphased, riding strong through it.
Her husband treated us to fresh cherries and plenty of water, then we crested and cruised downhill to Doyleville. 12 miles of pavement followed with a good shoulder but tons of Holiday traffic. This area is THICK with motorized recreation. It seemed one in 3 cars was pulling an ATV or 3. What a shock from the empty roads of New Mexico.
We reached Sargents and gas’ed up on snacks at the store (cafe not open). Tire Tuffy’s (as we call dirt bikers) kept rolling in and asking about our trip. One group said they had been “all over–just about everywhere around here.” When we told them where we had been just today they backed down, of course (we had done more miles). Another guy pulled up and would not let go of his “I’m better than everyone else, have ridden these trails before anyone else and I know everything” attitude. He kept telling us about all the trails we’d missed by taking the roads and was unable to grasp the concept that we can’t really ride up technical and steep singletrack trails while pulling 50 pounds. “It’s all easy for me… nothing technical or anything.”
As we climbed the railroad grade to Marshall Pass he rode by and said he caught us in 5 minutes. “That looks pretty grim,” he said. Well, riding a motorcycle and missing everything looks pretty grim to me, buddy, so it’s just a difference of opinion.
I got into a nice rhythm on the climb–for about 1000 feet of vertical, then my knees got a little stiff from the cold air, so I slowed down. The top was just incredible, and I was very tempted to stay and ride the Monarch Crest / Colorado trail / Silver Creek. It was just too nice of an area and one I’ll have to come back and visit. But we’re keeping our bikes pointed toward Canada, so we rolled on. Lee’s truck was at Marshall Pass (he had closed a 130 mile loop), but he followed us into Salida to get some grub and a motel.
The downhill was again a railroad grade and was yet another 25 mile blast into civilization. From 10,800 to 7500… easy miles. But still, a fairly long day.
95 miles. 5800 feet of climbing.
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 in Colorado?), 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 GDR 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 me? 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 and in reality probably a better rider than me. I just don't respond well when the second sentence out of a rider's mouth includes words like "hardcore" and rigid singlespeed. How about just telling me you did a good, long ride yesterday instead of what kind of riders you ride with and what voluntarily disabled bikes they were riding. And it didn't help to be surrounded by a city full of supposed-posers.
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 too 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 once again.
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 throw 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 with missing teeth answered and looked at me confused. I asked if this was a lodge and if 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 manager’s 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 derailleur, 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 hospitality. 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?) when we got there and we 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 now open 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).
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.
7/7 P.M.
Resting in Silverthorne (our first rest day). Food, food and more food. We ate ourselves so silly that we had to stay up late digesting all our food. We also saw Farheineit 9/11. It was very, very strange to not ride for a day. My legs were ready for it and kept asking when we were going to ride. Easy there tiger.
Contine to Page Three
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6/29
We awoke to raindrops on our tent at about 5am. Perfect timing, since the sun was just up. It continued for the next 45 minutes then cleared up. We got up slowly, cleaned the bikes extensively and ate some breakfast.
We decided that we would take a “rest” day today–only ride the ~20 miles into Abiquiui where we could find one of the last hotels for a number of days. Yesterday’s terrain and brutal thunderstorm has definitely taken its toll on us. But it’s funny, we’re actually feeling pretty good and want to keep going. But sometimes the best time to take a break is exactly when you are feeling good. We could easily pound out another 60-70 miles, but we’ll elect not to.
The downhill into Abuiquiu was mostly a blast – the final 2000 feet in a 2400 foot descent. There were a few short climbs and some horrendous washboards on the final county road (189) into town. We found Bodie’s general store full of good groceries, then headed on to the Abuiqui Inn. Wow, $100 for their cheapest room, which made us glad we stayed the night up on Polvadera ridge instead of pushing on through the dark to get to a $100 Inn. Instead we were checking in at 11am to a very nice (but still too expensive) room where we could relax and regroup for the next push on the GDMBR.
The trip thus far has been quite the adventure. Wow, is all I can say. I love so many aspects of it. We just keep riding north every day–each day we get closer to Canada. I am so used to doing big loops for rides where you start and end at the same place. Now each day is new, unknown and calling of adventure. We’re exploring new areas and riding into virtually unknown situations. I love it that we’re doing all this without motor vehicles and on infrequently traveled roads. The route has been very well planned out thus far–traversing huge mountains, quiet forest roads and even (yesterday) technical terrain. We just keep riding because that’s what we do. It feels great. Through we have been through quite a few tough situations and often wish certain portions would just end, overall the whole experience is invigorating. I can’t wait each day to see new mountains and to see how far we can make it that day. By all accounts we should be tired to death right now, but we are not. Why is this? Averaging over 60 miles a day for 10 days straight over challenging and steep mountain roads should have burned us by now. We even had a deathmarch of a first day. But still we keep going and feeling it. It’s awesome.
We head into more high country tomorrow including several sections above 10,000 feet. We’re excited, however our desire to encounter any mountain storms like we did yesterday is fairly low. Yet another reason to chill here in Abuiquiu: it’s supposed to be clearing out as the week rolls on.
6/30
An incredible day today. We started somewhat late out of Abiquiu (elev. 5900) to begin one of today’s many climbs. The first was on pavement for 12 or so miles to the town of El Rito (elev. 7000). It was easy enough, but last night’s downpour left the air quite humid, so we really sweat this climb out.
In El Rito we turned onto FR 44 to climb into the mountains. FR 44 was a nice quiet dirt road through stands of Ponderosa pines. It was, however, extremely rutted, which was ok for us (we always had the choice of a good line), but would make for some difficult driving. Thus, we did not see a single vehicle on FR 44. Up to 8200 we climbed, only to drop down to 7500 in the town of Vallecitos. Then, more pavement to the town of Canon Plaza.
As we rolled past barking dogs and a group of friendly people walking (gasp) down the highway, we saw the tiny “Snack Shack” on the side of the road. It was filled to the brim with chips, candies and drinks. “Honk Please” the sign said. Paula laid on her Monkey horn and soon Silvia came riding a mountain bike down to meet us. She opened up the shop and let us choose whatever suited our fancy. I drank a Hawaiian Punch and ate a Rice Krispie treat, a Twix and a bag of chips. All the while we talked to Silvia about her little (for fun) business and all the other riders she had seen over the years. Only one other group had signed the guestbook this year and it didn’t have a date!
We thanked her for the tasty snacks and as we were leaving her dogs kept stealing Paula’s handkerchief (that she was using for her hair). Datson the dog kept taking it and trying to tear it. He even grabbed it out of her pannier bag. Eventually he took off into the woods with it, playing tug of war with “Jaws"–the other dog.
While we snacked the winds picked up and things were threatening rain. I was getting worried about the upcoming climb to Burned Mountain (10,192 feet). But as we left things started to lift and clear up. The climb out of Canon Plaza was quite nice. I was feeling top so the climbing melted away. I felt like I could climb to 14,000, let alone 10.
We rode through areas that were straight out of the Wasatch–even moreso than the Jemez mountains. We were treated to some excellent mountain vistas where the trees cleared, and, tons and tons of Aspens.
We crested the ridge of Burned Mountain fairly easily, then dipped down to 9700 only to climb back to 10,000 and Hopewell Lake. About 0.2 miles from the top a mountain biker approached. I thought this was odd–he was obviously a serious rider and had very little gear so at first I thought he was just out riding. Then he seemed familiar somehow–hey, it’s Mike Curiak and our first Great Divide Race (GDR) racer.
He was a super nice guy, stopping to chat with us (and eat some of our food). I’ve never seen anyone so happy to have a Cliff Bar (which was pretty much all he wanted). He was completely out of food and bonking when he met us, so it was good timing. Mike started 2 days before we did (from Canada!). He’s got almost 2000 miles while we’ve gone 600 or 700. He is absolutely flying. We told him a bit about the upcoming conditions and then wished him well. I couldn’t believe how light he was traveling. But, that’s the way to do it!
We rolled on past the lake and saw more cyclists–this time on road bikes. 3 guys, one from Sweden, one from Mexico City and one from Vancouver were cycling from New Jersey to LA. We chatted a bit and told them about the GDMBR then were off down US 64 for some of the easiest miles of the trip.
30 mph downhill for 5 miles. As we descended it got nicely warmer, then we turned to climb up to the Tusas Ridge. We were still feeling great so the climbing was easy. Here the views were astounding and the best yet. Cisneros Park was incredible. You could see faraway ridges that extended above the tree line. Big booming meadows with groves of aspens next to stands of Pines. The evening sun lit up the green hills so nicely. I felt like I could ride up there forever.
But the sun was dropping, so around 8pm we found a place to camp near the Rio San Antonio. As we set up camp another cyclist–Pete in 2nd place and maybe 6 hours behind Mike rolled. It is still anyone’s race. He looked quite tired and only gave a “Hey” and a wave to us as he passed. He was losing daylight, so I didn’t blame him for not stopping.
Tomorrow, we face Brazos ridge and supposedly some difficult riding. We climbed an almost ridiculous amount today, but the riding was still pretty easy.
75 miles, 8700 feet of climbing.
7/1
We had super weather today for climbing, and we had plenty to do. We awoke to frost and ice on the tent poles, so it was a bit of a slow morning. But eventually we rolled out at 8800 feet. From there we climbed to 9700 then dropped. Here we saw our first view of the challenge: Brazos Ridge. It looked mellow enough, but it towered high above us.
The adventure cycling profiles are once again way off for this section. They claim the high point is a tad above 10,500 when actually (on GPS and the USGS map) it nearly reaches 11,000. 10,967 was the highest I saw on my 60CS.
True to form the hardest part was at or near the very top. It was some very nice granny gear, hold onto your bars for dear life style of riding. I was hoping for just that. I managed to clean it all, and was feeling great. Paula, on the other hand, was feeling like pooh. The climbs (and especially) the rocks were just a bit too much, and even though I felt great the climbs and descents did never seem to end. It was slow progress. By early afternoon we were only 30 miles into it, when usually we have racked up much more. I think the lack of progress was shambilizing Paula too.
We saw Mike Curiak’s wheel cutting deep into now solid ground–he said he walked/rode through 5 miles of mud up here. It’s amazing how fast it dried–we had very little problems getting through without mud on our bikes and it was only 24 hours or so later!
Mid descent we crossed into Colorado! One state down, 4 more to go.
We met a couple of jack-ass high school students on one of the descents. They came ripping by on an ATV, yelling and harassing us. Just down the hill they were loading the ATV into their truck and as we passed they yelled “Don’t get run over!". Puerile behavior just never gets old, does it?
We rolled down the descent a bit then went off into the trees, allowing them to pass without seeing us. Too bad, I’m sure it would have made their day to run us off the road, their lives are so boring that they need to harass others to make things interesting.
The pavement climb to La Mangas pass was excruciating because we were riding so slow and had so many cars passing us. The descent into the Conejos valley that followed was huge–I was thankful to not be riding up it.
At the restaurant in Horca (the town at the bottom, by the river) we saw a guy look hard at us from the deck. I looked around and noticed Bob’s and bikes in the parking lot. We had caught the riders of the wheels we have been following for days.
Kurt, Steve and Karen are from Pennsylvania and were a riot to talk to. They had many a hilarious story to tell (mostly about their mishaps, technicals and crashes) about the trail so far. We hope to meet up with them tomorrow to do a little riding.
We ate some tasty grub at the restaurant, then enquired at the Mountain Home Lodge to find that they no longer rent but are selling Condo’s–a correction to the map is needed here. So we took off up the Conejos valley to find some other cabins, but instead ended up at Conejos CG, just off the river. Currently the residents are mostly quiet, except our neighbors who are singing and harmonica-ing as I type. It’s 10:02pm, time for bed guys.
Unfortunately it’s a holiday weekend which could mean more traffic and full campgrounds/motels. Don’t you just love the Holidays?
7/2
Excellent climbing weather once again today. The sky was deep blue with the sun shining bright.
The warmup was to climb the town of Platoro (roughly 10,000 feet). It was easy enough, and the miles simply flew by compared to yesterday. We were there in no time.
The road here paralleled the Conejos River (which we camped within 10 feet of last night) up a huge canyon. The first 10 miles are strangely deceptive: it seemed to both Paula and I that we were riding downhill, though we were clearing gaining elevation and riding upstream of the rushing river. I guess yesterday was so steep that slight uphill now seems like down.
We ate PB&J sandwiches on the side of the road at Platoro. To our surprise vehicle after vehicle of tourists came rolling down the road to Platoro. We worried that it was going to be a busy day on these narrow mountain roads, but it turned out everyone was driving down from the reservoir to eat lunch.
Climb #1 was to Stunner Pass (10,541). It couldn’t stun or phase us. I rolled over the top hungry for more and without hardly breathing hard.
We coasted downhill from here back to below 10,000. On the descent huge views presented themselves including the spectacular little and big red mountains. These huge peaks tower above the valley and are naturally colored red, yellow and white by mineral deposits. They are quite unlike any mountain I’ve ever seen.
The next climb was a big one: to 11,600. It was steeper than Stunner but still had a great surface (compared to Brazos, Jemez or other New Mexican roads), so it did not seem difficult.
Steve, Kurt and Karen were resting in the middle of the climb. They were lying next to a bubbling creek with tasty cold water (we had pumped out of a previous stream but the water was too acidic to drink). We chatted some more and tried to convince them to continue climbing with us. They saddled up but let us go a bit early.
Switchbacks continued, higher and higher above 11,000 feet. We found ourselves in one of the most beautiful areas of the entire trip thus far. When we topped out into a basin we were really treated by huge alpine meadows framed by treeless peaks. Creeks and brooks crisscrossed across the valleys, dumping into snowmelt ponds. Everything was SO GREEN! It was almost surreal–an otherworldly place. Steve caught up to us where we stopped to take some photos. Photos, unfortunately, are powerless to convey anything about this area. Everywhere we turned we saw what would be an incredible photo.
This continued for 5-6 miles of high country riding. It was almost too good to be true. Eventually we said goodbye to Steve and Karen (who had also caught up to us) and rolled on for some more climbing. It was too bad they aren’t a bit faster because it would have been great to camp and ride with them. They were going to camp somewhere near the top of the big climb (brr… cold), while we were going to push on the Del Norte and a hotel room.
We passed summitville, site of a SuperFund cleanup project. All of the water has been severely contaminated by heavy metals, and there was definitely a metallic smell in the air. After watching man’s foolish stewardship of the land in New Mexico, namely cattle ranching, it was at least a change to see different foolishness. But it was still somewhat sad.
My thoughts turned to Indiana Pass, the high point of the entire GDMBR at 11,910 feet. I knew that it would not be technically challenging, but I was still quite charged during the initial ups and downs before it.
Finally my altimeter read 11,700 (the highest so far) and I knew the big climb had begun. Paula was ahead of me, hammering to beat me to the top. I struggled into higher gear but had difficulty catching her. She slowed down (she thought the top was closer than it was), and once I passed her I only dug deeper. It was just something about this being the highest climb we’ll do, and also a willingness to test myself at a somewhat high elevation. This was the highest I’ve ever ridden a bike (though I’ve hiked much higher), so I really let loose all the way to the top.
I nearly collapsed at the top, but rode it out in middle ring and with a world full of momentum. I circled and inspected the view I had just earned. Wow. I pulled out the camera to snap one of Paula cresting, then took a panorama.
A tiny hill after the pass took us a big higher–my altimeter read 11,960. Then we hankered down for a huge descent: 25 miles and a 4000 foot drop. We had to stop to rest our hands and upper body, but it was very pleasant. Endless groves of aspens and firs lined the road.
We hit pavement and soon saw 3rd place in the big race: Jan. He looked strong but frustrated by losing his way and equipment failures. He’s still setting an incredible pace. He’s got a big climb ahead of himself into some cold and high country. We wished him luck and cheered as he climbed away.
Del Norte seems a suitable place to eat huge amounts of food and get some well needed rest. We climbed much today, but compared to yesterday it was a piece of cake–all because the road was never too rough. Colorado might not be so hard.
66 miles, 6500 feet of climbing.
7/3
Let it be known that Lee Blackwell is always one for devious plans. And today was no exception. He noticed a large bend in the GDMBR route that could be short-cut to make a loop. This would enable him to drive out, cut the loop, then ride with us for a few days back towards Salida. And it’s in an area where he’s always wanted to ride: the Colorado trail along the divide south of Marshall Pass.
So the plan was to meet around 5-6pm on State Highway 114. We had about 50 miles to ride and one pass to conquer and Lee had about the same distance and some unknown trail conditions.
It was a bit of a dubious plan, for sure, but if it would work it would be golden. A nice side effect of this plan was that we got a lazy morning to relax and recover a bit. So we checked out late, washed some clothes and did some internet stuff. We ate a big breakfast and a gas station lunch.
We rolled out around 12:30 from Del Norte. It looked like it was going to be warm, but the breeze kept us cool. We quickly left town and found ourselves in the middle of nowhere. It was a very interesting road through some high desert country. It was actually nice to be out of the trees and into the desert, though not the hot desert. The rocks soon began to remind me of Tucson Mountain Park. There were some sections (ledges even) that were straight from the park. Even the cliff faces around were reminders of TMP.
The road wound out of the way, paralleling our next road, so it was a bit frustrating and also a bit sandy, but I like these sections of little used and fun roads, rather than all forest and wide graded roads.
As we cycled up through the sandy road I had a swarm of butterflies continually following me. They were all around on the surrounding rocks and grass, and as I rode they kept flying around randomly.
We turned right on “old woman’s creek” road and flew down the valley with an incredible tailwind. This continued for 10 miles, all above 20 mph. Wow.
Of course it was short lived and we soon were climbing with that wind in our faces. Ouch. Gradual slow climbing up Carnero Creek. But the climb was easy enough as soon we were back in the trees with rock faces galore. Nice stuff, really. We topped out at Carnero Pass (10,161 feet) then rolled down to find Lee.
We didn’t see him by the Forest Boundary and momentarily I was worried that we wouldn’t meet up. The trail could have been bad, non-existent or anything could have gone wrong. But then I remembered who I was dealing with. I knew Lee would make it to us, by hook or by crook; it was only a matter of when. We hopped back on to spin down towards 114 and sure enough Lee was waiting by the side of the road.
It was great to see a friend from Arizona. We rode the highway to Rabbit Canyon (about 5 miles) then rolled up the dirt to find a place to camp.
Then, boom, our first bike problem: Paula’s rear went flat! We pumped the slime tube up but it kept deflating. Currently it is holding air, we’ll check it in the morning. But, so much for our perfect record of no flats.
56 miles, 4800 feet of climbing
7/4
Big day today: 95 miles from our camp in Rabbit Canyon all the way to Salida. It wasn’t exactly an easy day since we climbed two passes – Cochetopa at 10,100 and Marshall at 10,870.
The heavy slime we’ve hauled around in our tubes has decided to earn its pay: Paula’s flat rear tire held all night and throughout the 95 miles of the day. Amazing.
We got a good start (no frost on the tent and a nice warm morning), and soon wound our way up to Cochetopa pass and another continental divide crossing. The Cochetop hills were a nice, pleasant surrounding. Nothing spectacular compared to what we have seen, but sometimes comparing areas is fruitless. The road throughout was a very nice surface–almost like pavement.
We popped back onto State Road 114 for a mile or so then realized we were fairly low on water. 14PP, the road over to Doyleville, didn’t seem like it had any creeks, so we were a bit desperate. Normally I would have filled up higher up, near Dome Lake, but for some reason we just forgot. At any rate, we inquired at a Colorado road maintenance yard (the only thing that was there), but the guy there was not being helpful. He said he didn’t have any he could give us and that the water that comes out of his hose is not good for drinking. Uh, huh. Lee chatted with him for a while and it turns out he’s tired of cyclists and hikers coming in and asking for stuff. It’s an almost understandable position except when you realize that the number of people asking is still minute, and that you don’t have to be even a remotely kind person to grant someone’s request of water. How you can refuse such a request (as this guy did) is almost unfathomable.
As we sat there a cyclist rolled down 14PP without carrying a load. She and her husband are riding the Colorado section of the GDMBR in pieces–whenever they can get the time. This was there last section of dirt to ride. She said her husband would be down with the truck and plenty of water, then she turned to hammer back up to meet him. A microburst storm kicked up a drizzle and a powerful wind, but she was unphased, riding strong through it.
Her husband treated us to fresh cherries and plenty of water, then we crested and cruised downhill to Doyleville. 12 miles of pavement followed with a good shoulder but tons of Holiday traffic. This area is THICK with motorized recreation. It seemed one in 3 cars was pulling an ATV or 3. What a shock from the empty roads of New Mexico.
We reached Sargents and gas’ed up on snacks at the store (cafe not open). Tire Tuffy’s (as we call dirt bikers) kept rolling in and asking about our trip. One group said they had been “all over–just about everywhere around here.” When we told them where we had been just today they backed down, of course (we had done more miles). Another guy pulled up and would not let go of his “I’m better than everyone else, have ridden these trails before anyone else and I know everything” attitude. He kept telling us about all the trails we’d missed by taking the roads and was unable to grasp the concept that we can’t really ride up technical and steep singletrack trails while pulling 50 pounds. “It’s all easy for me… nothing technical or anything.”
As we climbed the railroad grade to Marshall Pass he rode by and said he caught us in 5 minutes. “That looks pretty grim,” he said. Well, riding a motorcycle and missing everything looks pretty grim to me, buddy, so it’s just a difference of opinion.
I got into a nice rhythm on the climb–for about 1000 feet of vertical, then my knees got a little stiff from the cold air, so I slowed down. The top was just incredible, and I was very tempted to stay and ride the Monarch Crest / Colorado trail / Silver Creek. It was just too nice of an area and one I’ll have to come back and visit. But we’re keeping our bikes pointed toward Canada, so we rolled on. Lee’s truck was at Marshall Pass (he had closed a 130 mile loop), but he followed us into Salida to get some grub and a motel.
The downhill was again a railroad grade and was yet another 25 mile blast into civilization. From 10,800 to 7500… easy miles. But still, a fairly long day.
95 miles. 5800 feet of climbing.
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 in Colorado?), 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 GDR 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 me? 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 and in reality probably a better rider than me. I just don't respond well when the second sentence out of a rider's mouth includes words like "hardcore" and rigid singlespeed. How about just telling me you did a good, long ride yesterday instead of what kind of riders you ride with and what voluntarily disabled bikes they were riding. And it didn't help to be surrounded by a city full of supposed-posers.
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 too 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 once again.
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 throw 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 with missing teeth answered and looked at me confused. I asked if this was a lodge and if 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 manager’s 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 derailleur, 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 hospitality. 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?) when we got there and we 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 now open 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).
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.
7/7 P.M.
Resting in Silverthorne (our first rest day). Food, food and more food. We ate ourselves so silly that we had to stay up late digesting all our food. We also saw Farheineit 9/11. It was very, very strange to not ride for a day. My legs were ready for it and kept asking when we were going to ride. Easy there tiger.
Contine to Page Three
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