Archive for July, 2004
Across the Rockies, Into the Plains
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Pueblo, CO
After a day off in Salida (and I think that I am probably one of the only long haul cyclists out here that had to take a day off to attend a Board of Directors meeting by phone…) I was rested and ready to go so I decided to blast out another Century ride to Pueblo, CO.
Fairly amazing and quickly changing scenery over the 110 miles I rode today. I started at the base of the Rockies, a beautiful ride along the Arkansas River valley through steep rock canyons, riding alongside the Sangre de Christo mountain range, then up a few thousand feet to a high plateau where there is one immense cattle ranch after another, then up another few thousand feet to cross over the last of the Rockies and down into the plains of eastern Colorado – all in one day.
Of course, at the end of the day I had to race to beat a series of late afternoon thunderstorms that brew up every day around here – one huge lightning storm that I could see off to the north, then another building behind me on the mountains that I just crossed, another small one to the south and a monster storm east of Pueblo. Somehow I moved along fast enough, and in the right direction, so I was in this pocket of sorts where there were storms on all sides, but no rain, no lightning where I was.
Across The Divide
Sunday, July 25, 2004
Salida, CO
It’s been an interesting couple of days of riding, days that I think you can only have here in the Rockies in the summer.
After I spent Wednesday wandering around Telluride soaking up the good life there (and I mean it’s a good life for some – if you think housing is expensive in San Diego, don’t even bother looking at something at Telluride. I really have no idea who, other than Arnold, Brittney and Gates himself could afford something in that place…) I got an early start and continued to float down the mountains into Montrose.
With 12,000 people Montrose is the largest city that I’ll pass through while in Colorado. Again, after living in San Diego for so long my sense of what constitutes a city is a bit skewed. It is quite different to pass through town after town out here in Colorado where the population is often far less than the altitude – Delores, Pop. 857; Rico, Pop. 205; Placerville, Pop. 66; Sawpit, Pop. 25 (that’s right, population 25!) Even Telluride’s official population is just over 2,000. And these are all towns I cycled through in just the last week – and there are many others that simply have no official population. They exist on the map, there are a few houses, maybe a post office or gas station, but not enough people to make it worth them figuring out a population count – after all if you live there, you know every body and if you don’t, it’s probably none of your business!
And a Few Random Thoughts…
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
First, I forgot to mention another reason I am loving Colorado. You can get a beer here. Utah is full of great, wonderful people but apparently they feel it is best to do without any place to simply sit down and get a beer – a cold beer – in other words, the perfect end to a hot day on a bike. I had a beer last night in Rico and I hope to have one tonight in Telluride. It is sometimes the simple pleasures that are the best.
Second, Lance Armstrong rocks. The man is simply incredible and obviously I am thinking of him quite often as I get to “ride” along with him through long days and big climbs. I send all the energy I have to him each day with the hope that he moves up the Alps, and into history, and closes with an historic victory on the Tour de France.
One Pass Down
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
Telluride, CO
Another relatively short day today, only about 30 miles, but I just had to stop in at Telluride to hang out for a bit. It’s a beautiful little town sitting deep between several mountain peaks – and my first taste of “civilization” since Prescott. Real food, real bars, lots of great looking people (even though I have a long way to go in that department given my current smelly situation…) – and best of all it is not the desert. It is not 110 degrees, there is water everywhere, there is shade, there are trees, there is grass and there are people! I love it.
On one hand spending the large part of the past month on the bike, in the desert, was not much fun at times and downright miserable at others. On the other hand, it was literally a “trial by fire” in so many ways that now, without the killer heat, without the stress of running out of water, without having to drink 90 degree water all day long the rides lately have been a hell of lot more enjoyable than it was out there with the rocks and cactus.
The Sweet Sound of a Babbling Brook…
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
Rico, CO
Today was a sweet, beautiful ride. Only a little over 40 miles, but most of it was a climb as I approach Lizard Head Pass (10,000 feet) for my first of two high passes here in the Rockies.
Just a beautiful, beautiful ride all along the Delores River, slowly winding up, around and up again. After so long in the desert and rock canyons – ending just a day ago, in fact – it was so sweet to be riding along a river that rolled over rocks the entire way, green grass and trees everywhere…
This entire ride has been a just one rush of the senses after another. I’m not sure if I can explain how different this is – as far as the sights go, anyone traveling through the Southwest, and now through the Rockies, would “see” beautiful country – it is simply everywhere you look. And those on roaring motorcycles do get to “feel” the heat or cool air much more than those wrapped in cars, campers and trucks, but on the bike there is so much more – sounds of all kinds, smells of all sorts – and there is this great feeling of being surrounded wherever you are, with whatever sight, sound or smell is there.
I Smell. And I Look Ridiculous.
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
I have to admit it. I smell. Really, really bad. It so bad it is even starting to get to me.
For those keeping up, I’ve ditched a lot of excess clothing and such as I’ve both learned more what I need and I’ve had to think about how much I want something versus how much I feel like dragging it up and down every damn mile I have between me and the Atlantic Ocean…
So on the clothing side I am down to two sets of cycling gear – jersey, shorts and socks – one pair of regular pants and one shirt. The little laundry I do it mostly done in a sink with the little bottles of shampoo they leave out – I mean what is a bald guy going to do with shampoo anyway? So I’m not sure if it is the many miles, the lack of a real laundry or the heat, but after about five miles with the “clean” jersey or a short walk in my one street shirt and I reek like I’ve lived at the YMCA for far too long…
I’m not really worried about it as this trip is not about improving my love life and I am riding solo so no one is downwind. At the same time, you know it is bad when you start to notice your own funky cloud…
Colorado. Cool, Cool, Colorado.
Monday, July 19, 2004
Delores, CO
I am in Colorado. I am approaching the Rockies. It is cool – literally – no longer 100 degrees all day long but a much more reasonable 80-90 degrees. And I am loving it. I can actually ride past noon without having my brain boil and have my body fade away.
I was planning on a short day today, about 40-50 miles, stopping in a small town along the way (Dove Creek, CO. Population 280!) but when I got there a little after noon I found out that the place I was planning to call home was closed because the woman running it had gotten sick. It’s just something I’ve gotten used to along the way. I’ve been using good cycle touring maps, but these are small, small towns, things change and I’m grateful when things are as they say and deal with it when they aren’t.
So I checked the maps, found out I could get to Delores, CO at edge of the Rockies with another 40 miles or so to go so I decided to try out the new, rested legs I had enjoy the cool weather and kick out a 90 mile day.
Rubber Legs and Ice Cream Sandwiches
Saturday, July 17, 2004
Blanding, UT
Following the 100 mile desert mess I got myself into from Hanksville, I limped into Blanding on rubber legs and collapsed. Just to add some more pain into the last stretch I had to do a few “canyon drops.”
It’s never quite clear on regular road maps, but where there is high desert there are lots of small canyons where rivers, streams or dry washes cut through. It doesn’t look like much but when you cross these, you drop straight down to the wash or river, then have to climb back up – sometimes with grades well over 10% on either side. So you ride the brakes on the way down and spin your legs like mad to crawl back up. It was so bad that after awhile I just had to laugh – you can’t do anything about it, there’s no one to pick you up, and since I’m riding solo there isn’t even anyone around to commiserate with – so better to just laugh at how absurd the situation is (tell me again why the hell am I doing this???) and push on.
Hell…. Absolute Hell
Friday, July 16, 2004
Blanding, UT
I now know where the devil lives – his hot, hellfire of a home is located halfway between Hanksville and Blanding, Utah.
Although I knew that this section was going to be tough, what I didn’t know was that it was going to be the absolutely worse stretch I covered since I’ve started. And, as always, I was in for a few surprises that made it all the more interesting as the day wore on, the sun blasted overhead and I slowly baked in hell.
The day started out just like every desert run has – out before dawn, beautiful sunrise over the low hills in the east, cranking along with fresh legs (and with the usual concern for just how far it is to the next water stop…). From the maps and conversations with locals it sounded like it was going to be about 50 miles to the first water, then about 25 more miles until I would reach a backcountry inn where I could stop for the night. Since I have found that with all things factored in – up, down, breaks, wind, etc. – I generally can do about 10 miles an hour over a long haul (and anything over that is a great day…) I thought it was manageable – I would be able to re-supply on water around noon, then push another 3 hours or so in the high heat until I could stop for the day.
If only it worked out that way…
I Am Where I am Supposed to Be
Thursday, July 15, 2004
One thing I get asked – quite often asked as if I am a bit nuts – is “You’re out here by yourself?!?” And, of course, the simple answer is, “Yes.”
Riding solo can appear to others to be dangerous or lonely but what I like is the “right here, right now” of it all. As I’ve been riding I think I have a clearer answer, or at least understanding, of why this is the way I am traveling:
Wherever I am, I am where I am supposed to be. When I go, it is when I want to go; when I’m supposed to go. When I stop to take a break, it is where I’m supposed to stop. I’m not in front of anyone and I am not behind anyone. I’m not going too fast and I’m not going too slow. Wherever I am, whatever I do, it is what I am supposed to be doing.
This may seem simple but it hasn’t been this way for a long time for me and, at least to me, out here, it makes complete sense.
And knowing that it is just a temporary situation, a way that really can only be this way while I am out here cycling makes it all the sweeter.