Andrew’s car was in the shop and wanted to borrow mine to go to Purcellville. I told him I’d drive him there with a bike and he could choose to bike or drive home. He chose poorly.
What a beautiful summer day. I took the W&OD, a route I am well familiar with. Peaceful. And mostly downhill in this section.
I stopped at Carolina Brother BBQ in Ashburn which is my go-to pit stop when I’m on the W&OD. I never paid attention to their actual food menu but today I did. And someday I will try it.
My route on the W&OD took me 25 miles to Reston at which point I picked up the bike trail next to the Fairfax County Parkway. I followed that until I completely lost any scent of the trail. I was meandering near Fair Oaks Mall.
Eventually I ended up on Clifton Road and rode down to Clifton. I took Chapel Road back up to Rte 123. Once, trying to meet a Potomac Pedalers ride, the ride leader told us to meet him on “Chopper” Road. We searched and search that day, never finding them, only realizing later he was saying Chapel.
At Rte 123 I followed that to Occoquan. It’s always nice crossing the pedestrian bridge at the far end of town.
I took Occoquan Road over to Hylton Ave. and snaked my way through old Woodbridge. I had to ride on the Prince William Parkway but only long enough to cross I-95.
Heating up I stopped at Chick-fil-A for a brief refreshment, mainly filling my water bottles. I then followed the Prince William Parkway bike trail to Hillendale Road which was three miles out of the way but worth it to avoid Minnieville Road. I took back streets the rest of the way home.
It was a fun route. I hope Andrew asks me to take him to Purcellcille more often. And doesn’t want the bike.
It was June, 2008, when I first rode “The Wall” in Altoona. I knew it was special then and in 2009, it became my “escape from cancer” place to ride.
Horseshoe Curve
I have ridden it in spring, summer, and winter – but not fall. Interesting.
Chey, Chelsea, Barry
We had been planning for Jacob’s Hero Ride, a charity ride across Pennsylvania to benefit children’s cancer research and to honor Jacob Grecco. However, that did not materialize. But I promised two of the riders, Chey Hillsgrove and Chelsea Johnson, that we could still ride some in Pennsylvania.
Horseshoe Curve
Yesterday we rode in the Bedford Valley, now today it was our turn in the high mountains. I mapped out directions to Beale Ave. and Kittanning Point Road and we started riding.
Horseshoe Curve Tunnel
It was an easy ride up to Horseshoe Curve where we stopped for a photo op. Chey and Chelsea hiked the steps up to the curve where the trains go by while I stayed behind with the bikes. They got to ride the funicular back down.
As we rolled out from the visitor center we had to wait at the tunnel for the light. A big truck pulled behind us and we motioned for him to move up. When the light turned green, he went ahead and we followed. He blocked any vision of the other end of the tunnel. Literally, we could not see the light at the end of the tunnel. For 15 seconds or so we were riding in pitch black as our eyes hadn’t adjusted and wearing sunglasses made it worse.
We did great on the climb and then – The Wall. I was worried about Chey’s bike – he was running a 39:23 setup. And Chelsea was simply worried. She stopped to start some music then made it all the way up. Bravo!!
Chelsea Johnson on Valley Forge Road
At the top, by the old Forest Zoo, we met a kitten with no collar. It may have been a feral kitten and I couldn’t quite tell if it wanted to be friendly with us or attack us. We left.
Credit: Chelsea Johnson
We went down into Gallitzin and viewed the tunnels where the trains headed to or coming from the Horseshoe Curve pass through.
Chey and Chelsea on railroad bridge
Then we headed through the Allegheny Portage Railroad National Site. We stopped at the stone arch bridge at “Six of Ten.” This was a bridge built for the Hollidaysburg – Blairsville Turn Pike over the Portage Railroad in the 19th Century.
CSX Train in Gallitzin Tunnel
The descent down Old U.S. 22 was great and we turned off onto Foot of Ten Road then onto Valley Forge Road. I had ridden Valley Forge Road two to three times prior but always in the other direction. This direction was definitely harder. There were two steep hills in succession.
Stone Arch Bridge
It was only one mile to the top of the first “boob” (because that is what Chey thought they looked like on the profile – and they did). And it was another mile to the top of the second one with a 14% kicker near the top. And although it was about a two mile descent to Puzzletown, that didn’t seem to be enough to recover.
Chey, Chelsea, Barry
I probably should have read the look in Chey and Chelsea’s faces, but I did not. It would have been good to turn onto Puzzeltown Road and head back towards Altoona. Instead, I made us climb.
We turned onto Old Knob Road. We began a 4.5 mile climb to the top where it intersected with Johnstown Road, aka 164. It started as a low percentage grade climb, mostly 2-3%, but grew as we went.
Chey Hillsgrove
I had slipped ahead of my riding partners and passed a house with two people outside. I greeted them and asked if I could get water. Karen Sell obliged and got me water. Then she saw Chey and Chelsea too. She got us all water and offered a water hose to cool down with. I cannot imagine finishing the day without this water stop.
Chey and Chelsea
As we went up the road, again I pulled ahead. And then I saw it – a natural spring on the side of the road. Acting like a child, I put my head under the cold water. Three times. I waited for Chey and Chelsea to enjoy it too.
Garmin
As we continued I again pulled ahead. I looked at the profile on Garmin of the route I mapped and it wasn’t pretty. It kept going up and I knew near the end it really ramped up – to at least 14%.
Chelsea and Chey at spring
I arrived at the top and waited. I talked to a woman across the road. I talked to drivers who had come up the road. One told me my friends were “just around the corner.” I descended almost half a mile to find that corner.
Steeper than I thought
As they reached the summit we heard thunder and saw lightning. Oh oh! But we had a seven mile descent to East Freedom. We could see the mountains where it was raining but managed to avoid it. Until..
…We reached East Freedom and the skies opened up. I rode ahead hoping Chey and Chelsea would follow. I knew there was a Sheetz just ahead where we could seek shelter.
Chey and Chelsea
We got in and Chey and Chelsea ordered real food. I grabbed a Snickers and Chelsea chastised me about getting real food. I told her a Snickers was real food – hadn’t she seen their commercials?
It was storming and I didn’t see the need to expose three of us to lightning. I offered to ride back to start and get the car. Chelsea and Chey readily agreed.
I started out to find Reservoir Road – which was closed. It was barricaded and I didn’t see it in the rain. I went ahead to Plum Creek Road and hoped it would take me there. I checked my maps and knew I had to retrace my route. Damn. I just added three miles.
In fact, without worrying about other riders, I probably should have found Rte 36 which was the shortest way back. But I still don’t know how safe it was. Especially in the rain.
I was in and out of two more storms before reaching Altoona. But I made it back safely, retrieved the car, then retrieved Chelsea and Chey from Sheetz in East Freedom and we all headed back to Maryland, Delaware, and Virginia.
I am proud of my friends’ efforts today. It took longer than we planned but we enjoyed the Horseshoe Curve, the Gallitzin train tunnels, talking to a woman about the Portage Railroad, and having Karen rescue all of us with a water stop.
Barry after a climb
I had not ridden this direction before, and if I had thought about it more, we would not have gone in this direction. I made the decision in part because I wanted to tackle The Wall first while the weather was good.
But it comes down to paint on the road. Even in the mountains, these roads kick up, but if they have paint on them (lane markings) they rarely go beyond 12% and usually no more than 10%. Johnstown Road (164) out of East Freedom is a road with paint. We rode down it. Likewise, Old Rte 22 is a road with paint. We rode down it. (I have ridden up them before.)
The back country roads don’t have paint. They’re not graded for heavy traffic. Glenwhite Road (Horseshoe Curve), Valley Forge Road, and Knob Run Road don’t have paint. Or if they do they just have center line paint and not edge of road paint. They also have ramps of 14-19% grade. We rode up those. But now I know – it’s about the paint.
Correction: See that 14% grade? It has center yellow line paint. A major road. Yikes!
It was a tough day. But we all made it. And had fun.
It was bittersweet day as we had been planning for Jacob’s Hero Ride across Pennsylvania for children’s cancer research and to honor Jacob Grecco. Although that didn’t work out, I was able to bring a couple riders on the team, Chey Hillsgrove and Chelsea Johnson, to Pennsylvania for some riding.
I promised them mountains then delivered bridges. Without a word (at first) about my goal, we headed up Business U.S. 220. I mapped the route, loaded it to my Garmin, and off we rode. I really only really knew the last 10 miles of the 50-mile route – the run-in back to Bedford.
I had planned to start at Old Bedford Village, where we saw our first covered bridge, but there was an admission fee of $11 per person and I wasn’t sure we could leave the car there without admission. We parked at the Fairfield Inn (with permission).
The first four miles consisted of rollers then we hit a nifty two-mile climb. I didn’t know it was here but it was very nice. I told them we weren’t riding in the mountains, and we weren’t, but I’m not sure they believed me.
We rolled through Osterburg and out into the country. Chelsea seemed to love riding among the corn then my GPS beeped for an upcoming turn. As I looked at the upcoming left turn I saw it – the first covered bridge.
Bowser Covered Bridge
We stopped and took it in. And although it was no longer in service, we rode across the Bowser Covered Bridge.
Chelsea crossing Bowser BridgeSnook’s Covered Bridge
We didn’t travel much farther until we found Snook’s Covered Bridge followed by Kniseley Covered Bridge. Here we stopped for a brief water/snack break.
Kniseley BridgeRyot Covered Bridge
And so it went. We stayed mostly in the valley and visited covered bridges, the next being Ryot Covered Bridge. Chelsea said she would call it the bridge ride and eventually I told her she could call it the Coverage Bridge Ride.
Cuppet Bridge
We passed the Cuppet Covered Bridge just off the side of Pa. Rt. 96. It is very weathered, unpainted, and looks to be in need of repair but there were some people who looked like they were working on it.
As we entered New Paris it started raining. I stopped to put my valuables in a Ziplock bag.
A real sign to Gravity Hill
After New Paris headed south on Pa. 96, we turned right and started a 2 1/2 mile climb in the forest. It wasn’t too difficult although we were climbing. And I saw painted on the back of a road sign “G Hill..” Chelsea asked “Did that say hill?”
Chey and Chelsea ready to turnaround on Gravity Hill
We got to a false flat and I saw painted on the asphalt, “GH End.” I then had to find “GH Start” which I did. Confused, Chey and Chelsea looked at me and I explained we could coast up Gravity Hill.
Chelsea and Chey
I didn’t get it and still don’t. This is a Bedford County Tourist attraction but there’s nothing there other than a section of asphalt. No souvenir stand selling “I survived Gravity Hill T-shirts.” Just some paint on the road. After coasting uphill, we headed back to Rte. 96.
Headed to Shellsburg, but out of the rain, we hit a climb just over one mile long. No, we weren’t in the mountains – just Pennsylvania. The view from the top was great but we were in a light rain and I couldn’t capture a good photo moment. We laughed about an orchard selling “Transparent apples.” How would you know how many you bought if you can’t see them? OK, that was dumb.
The sign for Pleasantville, was appropriately, black and white
(White Transparent – also known as Yellow Transparent in the USA – is an early-season cultivar of apple which is usually used for cooking due to its sharp taste. Source: Wikipedia)
Chelsea and Chey with Vincent Van Gas
We stopped briefly in Shellsburg and admired Vincent Van Gas, a 1930s gas pump artfully painted in 2008 to celebrate “Pennsylvania 250.” We left and headed south finding Colvin Covered Bridge. By this time, Chey and Chelsea had quit taking pictures of bridges.
Chelsea Johnson
Out in the country Chelsea saw some huge bales of hay which she had to climb. And why not, right?
Chelsea Johnson
We came to Pa. Rte 31 which is signed as Pa. Bike Route South. It has about a two-foot shoulder which, mostly, was enough. But then the rain. It opened up on us and we got soaked. But we were in it for no more than three minutes.
Colvin Bridge
We slowed for a minute alongside the rode and I pointed out a gravel road to Turner’s Covered Bridge off in the distance. They told me they would wait for me if I wanted to go look at it. Anyone getting tired? Anyone? We rolled on.
We followed 31 back to US 30. I pointed out we passed the road to Herline Covered Bridge. I don’t think anyone heard me. We could have crossed it and come back and continued with a steep climb to US 30. But best to continue the shortest way back.
Just outside of Bedford we turned on Weber Lane and took it over to Business 220. There was a bit of a ramp back up to 220 and Chelsea walked the last 10 yards saying “I can’t believe I have to walk this.” I think she was caught out in the wrong gear. It happens.
Tired
We arrived back, maybe a little tired, and a lot wet. Time for refueling before tomorrow’s ride.
A day of bridges was wonderful. The rain, not so much, but mountains tomorrow!
I don’t (normally) ride for speed but it’s nice to go fast. And it’s a nice metric to measure oneself against Father Time. I haven’t had any real fast rides this year and I’m not counting rides where I jump in a pace line. This is just me against the “clock.”
Yesterday I rode on the W&OD for almost 40 miles. Sometimes goals are simple ones and I was 40 miles short of 300 for the week so my goal today was 40 miles, go slow, no sweat.
Wheels down shortly after 7:00 a.m., it was around 60 degrees and super comfortable. I got on the trail at Reston shortly after a rider in a hi-res green jacket went by. Once the legs got warmed up I noticed I was 100 yards behind him and holding steady.
He had passed a woman on a bike with aerobars. I was about 40 yards behind her and holding steady. Near Sterling there is a personal sprint point for me in which I put the bike in the big gear and push it as hard as I could. I did and I flew by her.
Early morning long shadows
I used the green jacket guy simply as a rabbit. I did not sit on his wheel – I stayed back 20-30 yards. I could have passed him but wasn’t real sure I could go faster. I think he knew I was hanging back or just lost his legs because at the Clairorne Parkway he pulled over. I didn’t see him again.
As I entered Leesburg I slotted in behind a couple and rode at their speed. We passed a massed group at Harrison Street. There wasn’t much room to pass although one rider did here so I jumped on his wheel. He quickly turned off.
I began the climb up West Leesburg and felt good. I was going for a personal record which I got. I could have done better because I thought the climb ended before it actually did. I rode over to Simpson Circle, did a little climb then turned around.
As I came to the overpass on Dry Mill Road I saw the group of riders that had been in Leesburg. They were just at the top of the climb. I was surprised how far I had gone since I last saw them but maybe they waited for the slowest rider.
I turned back on the trail and was caught off guard when I saw this group on Dry Mill. I went around a fence and jumped in about 300-400 yards behind them. I caught and passed three of them before turning off onto Catoctin Circle.
At 7:00 a.m. there were lots of runners out in force. By 9:00 there were a lot of cyclists. Families with small children were on the trail and many times I came to a near stop, waiting for a safe place to pass. I was always courteous and encouraging.
In 80 miles, 40 yesterday and 40 today, I had only been passed by the one guy in Leesburg. And to be fair, this was a slow-down area where he passed. Maybe on the open road he wouldn’t. I don’t know.
I still had to pick my way through some riders but felt good. Nearing Reston I slotted in behind two guys, almost comfortable to ride with them. But I knew I was faster and, when there was a safe opening, I went.
When I got back to my car I had already loaded the bike when those two guys came by. I’m glad I went.
At almost 18 mph, I was pleased. Then looked back and thought without the crowding on the trail, I could have gone over 18. Oh well. I set a PR on the climb and it was my fastest ride of the year (no pace lines).
What made it different? I don’t know. I took two bottles with me and only drank one for 40 miles. Maybe I started slowly enough and gained speed. I grabbed a sausage bagel sandwich at Sheetz an hour earlier. I took no food with me. I don’t think there was much wind either way. Not sure what made it good but it was a good ride today.
This was my last day to ride in Colorado before flying back home tomorrow. I drove to Boulder and picked up Ki Young Kim. We followed the suggested GPS route to Idaho Springs until we reached US 6. I told Ki Young I wanted to follow that road. We did and it was beautiful. Canyons. Tunnels. We took it slow and enjoyed the ride, even pulling over at one point to let faster traffic past.
Once in Idaho Springs we parked in the municipal lot and rode west towards Georgetown and Loveland Pass. This was three parts knowledge and two parts “feel.” I had ridden this route in the opposite direction last year as part of Ride the Rockies. But everything looks different when you ride backward and there are no people to follow.
Georgetown
We made it to Georgetown and through the parking lot of the Georgetown Loop Railroad. We followed the trail and I immediately was shocked at the steepness. We climbed to the upper section of the trail, not knowing how far the trail head was. One picks up the trail in the railroad parking lot to the top of the railroad line then gets back on a road that parallels I-70. I remembered riding the road last year but not the length of it.
Georgetown Loop Railroad
I had planned to visit my grandmother’s cousin, Dale States, in the afternoon. I figured we had time for 40 miles total. We found the entrance to the wooded trail alongside I-70 and started up it. But I did not know how far it was until it ended at the Loveland Ski Aura. I knew I could not ride much longer – as in another 5-6 miles uphill. But another mile I could handle. Then we turned around.
Clear Creek
This wasn’t the best day for Colorado hospitality. In Georgetown some driver yelled at us and on the upper road a 15-passenger van honked at and buzzed me. Love the roads but you can keep your drivers, Colorado.
Trail
On our climb we had battled tremendous headwinds and were to enjoy some temporary tailwinds. We rolled, both hitting 49 mph. I can’t believe I couldn’t squeeze out one more mile per hour.
At Georgetown I was almost blown off my bike by a cross wind. And then the tailwinds turned into massive headwinds. We took turns rotating at the front but we both worked hard. It was probably the hardest I had worked going downhill.
Barry, Ki Young
It was a beautiful day and a great ride. I wish I had time to get at least to Loveland Ski Area. It looked like we were still about four miles short. Maybe next time.
It was a beautiful morning as I rolled out. I parked in Loveland and decided to head up US 34 towards Estes Park. I knew the Texas 4000 was there and headed to Fort Collins but knew nothing else. If I ran into them I would say hello.
Carved tree
US 34 is not a good cycling road. There usually is a small shoulder but at times that disappears. I had gone about six miles when I entered Big Thompson Canyon. It is very beautiful and while narrow, cars have to go slow through there too so it wasn’t bad at all. While in the canyon.
Memorial
I came to a roadside monument to 144* people who lost their lives on July 31, 1976, when rains inundated the river and canyon. My thoughts went to the names of rose people and their ages. The 9 year old would now be 48.
Warning Sign
The road climbed. Period. I came to an intersection and both directions had a mileage sign for Estes Park. However, in one direction it warned cyclists against using that road. Hard to believe I was on the better route.
Big Thompson Canyon
Nearing Estes Park I saw what I thought was a fox cross the road and scamper into the hill hillside. But it was larger than a fox. I’m thinking now it must have been a coyote.
Not much of a shoulder
As I reached Estes Park I saw no signs of the Texas 4000. I looked at a welcome map and plotted my turnaround point in town. I had gone 200 meters farther when three women of the Texas 4000 went rolling by. I turned around and followed. I introduced myself and all we’re welcoming.
Canyon
After riding six miles I turned around and went back towards Estes Park until the next group went by. I turned around and jumped in.
Dam on Big Thompson River
The only negative of the day was a country deputy sheriff decided to harass some cyclists. Other than his county his laws, he was wrong on so many counts. But best to play along so I did.
Barney Fife had mentioned he had seen the Texas 4000 yesterday and I suspected that he was out to send them a message. But I wasn’t the college coed he was expecting. He asked for ID, told me that they believe in “sharing the road and all that but not when there’s traffic.” He then told me I had a challenge to catch up to them, as if flying through his 35 mph road would be OK. What a jerk.
Texas 4000
I apparently almost caught them at their rest break. I met some riders, especially Olivia and Landon, and was interviewed for their documentary. I did not mention douchebag cops.
Texas 4000
We rolled out, this time I was with the third group, until we got to Loveland. I wished them well and rode back for the fourth group. I also rode with them until Loveland, wished them Godspeed then went on my way.
US 34 is a beautiful ride but somewhat scary headed up to Estes Park. Unless they controlled traffic during an event like Ride the Rockies, it is not one that I will likely return to.
___
*Since updated to 143 because one of the victims that was missing and presumed drowned was living in Oklahoma
It was a beautiful morning as I rolled out of Cañon City. I really couldn’t wait to get out of the room I stayed in last night. I went and ate at the McDonalds up the street – the same as I had done two years ago with my roommate, Scott Olson, when we stayed here.
Old train station in Florence
It was an easy roll to Florence – just 10 miles. Flat. And the home of the first aid station.
Horses
On the stretch to Wetmore, I was passed on a two-lane road by a pickup truck pulling a trailer. The trailer was about two feet wider than the truck and barely missed clipping me. I love Colorado roads but from a road rage incident the first day in Grand Junction to cars passing when it’s not safe, I would not rank Colorado as one of the safer places to ride.
RTR Jerseys
I got to the second rest stop and it was packed. So I left. I hadn’t been drinking yet so my bottles were full. I allocated two hours to climb Hardscrabble Pass. We rode down this pass two years ago and I remember it being steep enough that I hit 48 mph and two riders went over the guardrail. I knew it would be a climb.
These guys passed me until I passed them
It was hard but not Grand Mesa hard. I thought for a while I was getting passed by two riders for everyone that I passed. But I think in the end it was about even.
Three guys went by me and I stayed with them for a while. I deliberately did not sit on the wheel of the last rider, instead allowing about 15 feet or so but stayed there. Then they pulled away but three to four miles later I caught them and I eventually blew by them. It’s strange how that can happen.
Wounded Warriors
I believed that Ride the Rockies ended with a 12 mile downhill. So when I saw a sign for Westcliffe at 16 miles I started passing people. Lots of people. My legs were energized. And as I passed I loudly announced “12 of the next 16 miles are downhill.” At least for some it lifted their spirits.
I got to thinking about this Livestrong Bracelet. Other than I one on my wrist, I hadn’t seen any the entire trip. Ten years ago that would have been the fad, especially among cyclists. “Lance (who rode Monday, by the way) hates cancer and so do I. I will wear a bracelet.” But that fad is over. “Oh, he doped? I don’t hate cancer anymore.”
Livestrong
There is a DJ on course every day at one rest stop. He is always giving away T-shirts for people who will give themselves an egg shampoo or eat insects or answer trivial questions. One contest was first person to bring a hunting or fishing license. Another was for the first person to bring him a one dollar bill with three sixes in the serial number.
I made it to the top of the climb in 1:45. And went to the last aid station on course. I saw the DJ.
I envisioned him to be a little like Wolfman Jack. Big booming personality behind the mike but maybe a little distant with people. At the final aid station I told him that I had an idea for a “contest.” He barely acknowledged me. I told him I wouldn’t claim the prize but that he should offer a shirt to the first person who comes forward wearing a Livestrong bracelet. The music stopped and he said “OK, it’s time to give away another T-shirt. It’s time for an egg shampoo.” I left.
Amish Westcliffe
It was mostly a 12 mile descent to Westcliffe. The main street was lined with people cheering. Last year finished in Golden and before that in Colorado Springs. I am sure that in both places people didn’t know about RTR or they wanted them out of their town. Not so in Westcliffe.
Martin, Barry, Andrew
It seemed that the entire town came out just to cheer. Even the Amish. It was really pretty amazing. I saw two Amish boys and stopped to talk to them. Martin and Andrew. They lifted my bike and said it was OK to take their picture.
Roadside Art
I continued on to the finish line. More people cheering.
There was something to be said for having a small town as a finish town. It’s great to be appreciated. In all, I rode 520 miles on route plus an additional 24 the day before in Grand Junction. It was a great week.
This was the day I dreaded. My legs failed me on Monday over the Grand Mesa and didn’t do so hot on Tuesday. Today was a planned 102 mile day to Salida over the 12000′ Cottonwood Pass. On dirt. I watched the pros race this and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
I stayed at Mount Crested Butte which sits at 9,375 feet (2,858 m). It was cold, 41 degrees, when I rolled out of the condo down to Crested Butte. Once on the road after Crested Butte I was passing 10 times more people than passed me. And when one guy did pass me, I jumped on his wheel and said “let’s work.” A third joined us and we were flying. The first 21 miles I covered in 55 minutes (22 mph).
The beautiful Taylor River
At Almont, everything broke up at the rest stop. I didn’t stop but kept going. As usual, the lines at the porta-johns were huge as they always are for the first stop of the day. Too huge. I only went a couple of miles before I found my own rest stop in the national forest. Not trees but a park service outhouse. Others soon followed me in my discovery.
I rode my own pace up to the Taylor Park Reservoir. I felt a knot in my left calf. I was worried this may become a full-blown cramp. I’ve never sagged but the thought that I might have to weighed on my mind.
I stopped and talked to three fishermen and then to a fourth who had a 10-month old Labrador named Milton. Right after the reservoir and a dreaded descent (because we gave back a lot of our elevation gain) I stopped at the Taylor Park Trading Post aid station. I met a man working on his Smoothie. I asked if it would help and he said he swears by them. I bought a Smoothie.
Taylor River and the climb to the Reservoir
After the Smoothie headache subsided I began the dreaded climb. There were two miles of pavement then a turn onto Cottonwood Pass. The road was dirt but packed hard in many places. Mostly I could find a line. Four guys passed me and I decided to try and keep count. How bad would this be? I would count how many times I got passed and how few times I passed others.
Climbing Cottonwood Pass
I was all over that road, finding a hard pack line where I could, often in the left lane. But traffic was scarce and if one could see a car coming our way they were quick to warn us. I passed a young couple who were moving from Austin to Portland and biking there. Their bikes were loaded down but they had smiles on their faces.
Atop Cottonwood
I soon realized I was going faster than most riders. The count kept getting higher and when I came to the aid station which was seven miles up this 14-mile climb I kept going without stopping. My legs actually felt great.
Rest stop at Cottonwood Pass
I was probably 10th wheel coming up on a photo op and I didn’t want to appear to be off the back when I had just made contact with these folks. I powered by them and may have been too fast for the camera. The photographer complimented me on my pace.
Bike rack on Cottonwood
In all, I passed 228 cyclists while getting passed by 10. I felt great! 228:10. Wow!
The knot in my calf worked itself out for once on the climb and I never noticed it again. One must consider that while I rode my own pace getting to Taylor Park that the strongest riders had already passed me by before starting the climb. Whatever. I come to the Rockies not to be measured against others but against myself and I simply felt great and ready to bomb the descent.
My plan since I had seen the route and knew my lodging location was in Buena Vitsa and not Salida was to simply make it over the mountain to Buena Vista. That would make it an 80 mile day. I would add the 26 missing miles from Buena Vista to Salida to tomorrow’s route and turn that 66-mile day into a 92 mile day.
The sweeping curves at the top of Cottonwood Pass
As I approached Buena Vista I did not turn with the RTR route but instead went to the Super 8 and checked in. I offloaded my vest, leg and arm warmers, and gloves and thought “I feel great.” Not that I needed encouragement but my backpack which contained my shoes and glasses was missing at the Super 8 so if I called it a day I had no shoes or reading glasses. I decided to ride to Salida.
I was by myself. The official route cut a little diagonal on the route and had turned off earlier although would later connect. Didn’t matter. I felt great. I caught a couple of riders up the road then rode with them. Their helmets were covered in yellow with a red feather. They looked like chickens “so their support team could find the easier.” This was Maria from San Diego and Melinda from Denver. They told me the next day they would be Angry Birds. I never saw them again.
We finished. 106 miles. I felt good enough in the moment to ride another 106 miles. Of course I didn’t. But winds kicked up hard just then so I boarded a bus to take me back to Buena Vista, leaving my bike in the bike corral. What a day to feel great. It was the best I felt over distance in a year. And it left me wondering that maybe there’s something to sleeping at 9000′.
This was an easy day. Coming on the heels of two pretty difficult days, it was well received.
As planned, riders would have a 27 mile ride on pavement or a 35 mile ride with 13 miles of dirt and two 10,000′ passes. In the weeks leading up to RTR Colorado had heavy rains and there were forced to abandon the “Dirty Thirty” option.
It was windy but it seemed everyday we fought the winds. It was a great day to ride.
Passing the Gunnison River, I saw a bike path that went over the river on its own bridge. Just one rider followed me.
I joined a pace line briefly before dropping off to take pictures. I saw a man with his dog come out of a road/driveway so I stopped and met Elvis, a 10-month old Great Pyrenees Labrador mix. He was a beautiful dog who jumped on me a little. You could tell he was still a puppy. It would be by mantra to always stop and meet the dogs.
Seeing a sign for Roaring Judy Fish Hatchery I followed the road less traveled. I went over a beautiful plank bridge.
I took a dirt road to the fishing ponds and talked to an older couple enjoying their day. As I was leaving a car came in. The driver asked if I was riding the Rockies. Then she offered me fishing gear. They had a rider with them who was planning to fish. I declined but wondered if I should have joined him. I don’t know how to fish but why not try something different?
I left the hatchery and returned to the main road.I passed a woman who has stopped with her daughter, Morgan. I would guess that Morgan was 10 or 11 and she was proudly riding the 16 miles from the aid station to Crested Butte. Â I complimented her and assured her that I have many friends who can’t ride 16 miles.
The road today trended uphill, mostly at a 1-2% grade. It was an easy day getting into Crested Butte.
I got into town and immediately saw their center for the arts.
The downtown area was being shut off to vehicles, probably for Ride the Rockies although I am not certain. This is another of the beautiful old mining towns in Colorado.
After exploring the few blocks in town, I decided to go check in to my hotel. It wasn’t a hotel but a condo, and it was uptown. Literally.
And then I looked up the hillside, the mountainside, and saw the ski village. That is where I would be staying. And it was a steep climb. I would be staying in Mt. Crested Butte, which was the uphill finish last year for Stage 2 of the USA Pro Cycling Challenge. My condo was on the actual finish line won my Robin Carpenter.
On my way up I had passed a bike path which was too inviting not to ride up. I decided to go back down to town and ride it again.
Twice up the hill was enough. I had taken a planned 27 mile day and turned it into 43. With climbing.
With a big day ahead, that was enough. It would be pizza in tonight. I ordered from Brick Over Pizzeria & Pub. It was very good. Very good.
Maybe my legs have a 30-mile climb in them. But not at the start of a rainy day after a big day over Grand Mesa. Not today. My legs were crap.
Raining in Hotchkiss
I boarded a bus at 6:00 a.m. in Montrose for the 40 mile ride to Hotchkiss. Our last stop in Montrose we picked up additional riders who were standing room only. Closer to Hotchkiss, in Delta, the driver teased some riders by pulling over then motioning we were full. They would have to wait for the 7:00 bus. Ouch.
Leaving Hotchkiss
I retrieved my bike from the bike corral and the high school kids that had been watching them were teasing Ron Kiefel about having bike number one. They didn’t he really was number one – the host of the tour. It was the only time all week I saw Ron. I did not attend any of the cycling seminars.
It was cool. I brought a rain jacket. And I would need it for warmth (helped) and to keep dry (didn’t help).
The first aid station was at 10 miles in Crawford. It started raining hard. Around mile 20 it stopped and I removed my jacket. At mile 22 it started raining hard. It was a cold rain, 49 degrees (10C).
Rolling through Crawford
I passed a young woman from Denver. She would stand, pedal, then coast. Uphill. Her legs were shot. We talked about yesterday’s big effort and nutrition. I thought about riding with her just to distract her but she was too slow. I told her I would wait at the next aid station for her which I did. It was raining hard then. I never saw her after that.
Aid Station – Caught in the rain
After the aid station, the climb continued into Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. We had 10 miles of rollers before beginning our descent. The sun came out briefly.
Colorado Mesa
As I did on every descent I passed everyone although a 30-something woman got on my wheel and stayed there. And I didn’t try to drop her. I was glad she trusted me enough to read the lines and follow me. I asked her if she enjoyed the free ride and she did. I never saw her after that.
Black Canyon
The last 30 miles were over and by the Blue Mesa Reservoir. Seventeen miles were on the shoulder of US 50 which is never fun in any state or D.C. I blew past the last aid station as I saw black clouds gathering behind us. I had stopped and changed my jacket six times and did not want to get soaked again.
Blue Mesa Reservior
I pulled into Gunnison and went searching for my motel – the Western Motel. The sun came out and it finally was going to be a nice day. I found a Sonic not far down the street and pedaled back to my room holding a burger in one hand and a milkshake in the other.
