Did Someone Say "High Mountains"?


 

Yes, I think I did. I’ll get to that in a moment. First, I know, this is delayed post. I have many excuses to choose from to explain my tardiness: fatigue, dead batteries, long days in the saddle, exhaustion, lack of cell service, old age, general ineptitude, senility .... the list goes on. I’ll offer the latter excuses since most who know me will have no trouble buying that.

 So, my last post was from Brush Mountain Lodge just before a big climb to Watershed Summit. BML is, itself, at about 7,500 ft and the summit was at 10,000 ft, so about 2,500 ft of climbing, which is not terrible. The road to the summit was ok, not paved but pretty hard packed and not a lot of loose stones and gravel - until the last mile - and the weather was cooperative. Temps in the 80, blue sky. Pretty nice, really. The climb was steep in places, but rideable. Until the last mile. Did I mention that?  The final push to the top was exactly that - a push, or a hike-a-bike. Extremely steep, rocky, uneven, ‘rooty’ terrain. I can honestly say that if the route has been wet I don’t know if I could have pushed my ‘beast’ up that stretch. I was slipping and sliding as it was. A muddy trail would have been nearly impassable for me. That’s partly because I think my beast is overloaded. I should ditch the Lazy Boy I’m carrying. (Only kidding but it does feels like I’m carrying one.  Clearly, I have not mastered the art of packing light. )

 Anyway, we summited after a few hours at 10,071 feet and it felt pretty good. No great views, though, as it was ‘treed’ summit. The descent, however, was horrendous. For those who ride bikes, you know that a descending grade of 4-5 percent on a paved road can easily get you up to at 30-40 mph if you simply let the bike roll. By contrast we had similar grades and descended at 5-7 mph for 10 miles. Rode the brakes hard the entire time. In fact, so hard that my hands actually hurt by the time it smoothed out a bit. The trail was strewn with large rocks, loose gravel, sand, large rivulets, roots, etc. I may even have spotted a kitchen sink. (No, not really, but I would not have been surprised to see one.) It was pretty exhausting. The constant need to find a rideable line through that mess, not slash a tire, loose a spoke, and simply stay upright was draining. But we made it through ok and rolled into Streamboat Springs later that afternoon.

Steamboat is a typical Colorado ski town. Not too big, pretty, well maintained, and expensive. And it had one major attraction for me. I have been looking for brake pads for my steed for a couple weeks now and no bike shop on the route that I called carried them. But, mirable dictu, the two bike shops I stopped in both carried them, confirmation to me that, in fact, I am leading a virtuous life. What other explanation can there be? Because I needed them installed and an overall bike check to ensure that nothing on the bike had rattled loose - unlike the fillings in my teeth - on that crazy descent.  We took a rest day, which is not a bad place to rest. I put it to good use and did nothing.

 Out of Steamboat we made our way to Kremmling, a small town that served as a place to resupply and have a decent meal. Did I mention that I hate Cliff Bars? I don’t know why but I bought a few. They’re supposed to be ‘energy’ bars but I am pretty sure even the bears and other critters would avoid them if I left them out. Never again. The Kremmling Merchantile Exchange - kind of a supermarket / apparel / sundry store had what we needed. Nice place and nice folks.

 From Kremmling we rode to Silverthorne (still in CO), where we stayed for the night in a hotel. Seems we camp every other night. Many cyclists, mostly the younger ones, camp more frequently (or, conversely, make fewer hotel stays), but I like a shower and a mattress, if available. I unabashedly play the decrepit old man when it suits my purposes. Hmm…maybe I’m not playing…no, I won’t go there. Anyway, Silverthorne is a pretty cool town. Didn’t spend much time there but enjoyed it.

 Got an early start out of ST rode through Frisco, a sort of suburb of ST, about 7 miles south. Did not stop but kept riding to Breckenridge, an additional 10 miles further on. Interestingly, the 17 miles from ST to BR were on a nicely maintained bike trail. A real treat. I can’t remember the elevation gain between ST and BT, but for sure you’re climbing. BR sits at about 9,500 feet. The climb to Boreas Pass, the second highest pass on the route at 11,482 feet, begins just outside of BR. So, while the pass is pretty high, starting from BR, once you get there, the climb is not too long. Only about 2,000 feet. And it’s on a trail with a reasonably constant grade - maybe 3.5 - 4 percent, occasionally kicking up a to 6-8 percent. A fair bit of the trail was on old railroad grade, hence the constantancy, which allows a rider to develop a rhythm, very helpful on long climbs. In the end, the climb was slow and long but not crazy difficult, notwithstanding the altitude. It was nice to get to the top. (As an aside, there was an interesting article in the NYT this week, “Can Affluence and Affordable Housing Coexist in Colorado’s Rockies,” which described the impact of the influx of money in those ski communities on long time residents. A good read.)

 We reached Boreas Pass by early afternoon and so decided not to camp somewhere on the descent since it appeared that we could make Hartsel, the next town on the route, about 40 miles away by late afternoon - since those 40 miles looked like they were all descending miles. So, why not?  Well…the first 10 miles were pretty easy and actually were descending but the last 30 miles were just a brutal slog. Yes, technically they may have been descending but the constant undulations of the terrain, the crappy road and stiff and unrelenting headwind made for a long day in the saddle. We were glad to arrive in Harstel by early evening. We camped behind the lone bar in town - no other accommodations. This was probably the third time we set up camp behind a saloon. Not the best of places but it does have a certain allure if you like to listen to some guy rooting through the nearby trashcan looking for who knows what?, and then carrying on a loud and long conversation with a woman somewhere in the same zip code.

We left Harstel in the morning, heading for Salida. The road to Salida was, unfortunately, on the same crappy road as what we rode in on. Washboards for mile after mile, stiff headwind, and lots of climbing. A miserable, long day in the saddle. It is also, no doubt, the cumulative effects of weeks of riding. What might not have been so difficult early on now requires much more effort. Salida seems like a pretty cool little town, though. Apparently, lots of history to it that I may get to explore as we are taking a rest day, or two.

So, where am I, literally and figuratively on this little adventure? Well, although we’ve put a good dent in the miles to get to the border (over 1,800 now, I think), it is clear given the time remaining, the increasingly reduced daily mileage for a variety of reasons (mostly cumulative fatigue and more difficult riding) that we will not make the border within a reasonable timeframe. Various commitments, both professional and personal, have put a limit on the time available for all of us. It’s a bit disappointing but that’s the reality. The question then is: what to do?  I see two options: 1) just keep riding until time runs out. That has an inherent appeal to me but essentially entails just slogging along until we (or I) can’t go farther. More miles, yes, but not necessarily a lot of fun, and equally important, when time runs out I may be no where close to a place that allows for reasonably easy egress off the route. 2) While we won’t make the border, there are a couple iconic places on the route that might be fun to tackle, such as Indiana Pass, the highest point on the route. The challenge with this option is the logistics of getting to those points. It’s not my decision alone but we’ll probably opt for option 2. At least I will. After that, it may be it for me. 

We’ll see. Our situation is sort of like a television cliffhanger. You’ll have to stay tuned to find out how it ends.

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