The Big Bike Freeze

I was a bit bored that morning and feeling quite pent up. It was the middle of January and the bike riding had been stymied by excuses of cold weather, work schedules and general winter weariness. My wife had gone to work and I was left to myself considering the options for my next two days off. The thought of winter riding and camping had come to mind of recent and after attending and contributing to a bike packing class the week before at our local bike shop, I was raring to bike up and bike out.

As I drank my tea, realizing that the weather was favorable and the temperature was at around fifty degrees, the desire sprang to life and I began to consider an overnighter to a local lake. I had ridden the thirty two mile rail trail and gravel road route numerous times. It is a very safe low traffic area that rolls through some hilly roads once off the rail trail. The lake is not overly large but there is plenty of space to disappear. Given the time of the year, I did not expect to see anyone upon my arrival.

There had been reports of storms moving in the following day, so I thought I had better do my diligence and check the latest weather report. The report indicated that there were going to be dropping temperatures and a mix of rain and snow the following day. The temps were supposed to drop to the mid thirties and the wet weather was not supposed to arrive until the late morning. The wind direction was blowing out of the south gusting up to twenty miles per hour. The wind was to change the following day and be blowing out of the northwest at a sustained fifteen miles per hour gusting up to thirty five miles per hour. I saw this as favorable since I would be riding out to the north and returning to the south the following day with the wind at my back assisting me in my endeavor to hastily outrun the storm on the way home.

My wife came home for lunch and I told her my plans. She said that she had heard there was a storm coming in tomorrow and that I should probably check the weather. I told her that I had checked the weather and that the wetness was not coming until the late morning and that I was sure I could make it back before things got too bad.

After my wife went back to work, I began organizing my gear for the trip. I decided to go heavy on the clothing in case things got colder than expected.  My basic gear consisted of the following

Kitchen and Bath: stove, cook set, 2 water bottles, lighter, matches, hygiene kit (toothpaste, toothbrush, soap, deodorant and wash cloth), homemade spaghetti, yogurt and granola and an orange.

Garage: Extra tube, patches, tire pump, bike tool, and tire wrenches and first aid kit, two extra tie down straps, Gerber multi-tool and two flashlights.   

Clothing: Riding shorts, 3 long sleeve shirts (one thermal), one t-shirt, long underwear, lightweight water resistant pants, rain jacket, light weight down jacket, wool socks, gloves, stocking hat, heavy gloves, and light weight boots.

Sleep System: MSR Elixer 2 tent, North Face sleeping bag and a Thermo-rest ground mat.

Bike and Bags: Salsa Fargo outfitted with homemade frame bag, bar bag and tool bag attached to the top tube.

I also carried a Camelback backpack containing a water bladder for the ride up and back. I kept my cell phone in the pocket of my shorts and my ID in my pack. I also took a fishing pole and a small tackle kit to use if the there was enough open water to fish. Given the recent cold spell, I thought that the lake would probably be frozen over with thin ice, but what the heck; I might as well go prepared.

I checked the bike out mechanically and everything was working great. Once I had loaded up, I took the bike for a small ride up and down the alleyway behind the house to make sure everything was secure. The bike felt great albeit a little heavy with the extra winter riding clothing and two person tent. At approximately one in the afternoon, I headed north from my house until connecting to the Prairie Spirit Trail where I continued my northbound trek with the wind at my back.

My first stop was in Carlyle, Kansas, approximately five miles north of Iola. There is a restroom there, although it is closed this time of year. I stopped to do a quick bike check making sure that everything was still secure. After a few minutes, I continued north. I was pushing a five thirty sunset, so I did not stop in Colony or Welda which are at the eleven and nineteen mile markers. My game plan was to get to the lake enjoy some fishing if possible, eat some dinner and turn in early so as to get up early and outrun the storm. I would skip breakfast at camp and stop in Colony at a local diner to enjoy a hot breakfast. At least that was the initial plan.

Once I came to Welda, I exited the rail trail and headed out on gravel roads for the remainder of the ride. It was pretty dry overall and I had no problems covering the remaining distance to the lake. For those of you that may ride this route, I took Maryland road north from Welda and then went west on 1300. 1300 is very hilly, so be ready to gear low or walk when necessary. Some of the hills are pretty steep. I took 1300 to Mont Ida and headed north on Indiana Road. I then went east on 1500 road which leads directly to the lake. There are other ways to go and avoid some of the hills, but I find them challenging. And the down hills are a lot of fun in good weather.

I made it to the lake at around four in the afternoon and set up my tent. I also hung up my riding shorts, shirt and socks on a tree to dry. The lake was frozen over for the most part. There was a small area of open water near the shoreline which I tried fishing for a short while with no luck. I am sure they were all down deep away from the ice. It is still fun to cast a line though.

 After my fishing failure, I decided to get a fire going. There was plenty of tall grass for kindling and there was no shortage of smaller wood to build a cook fire. There were no larger logs, however, to sustain a good fire. There was enough midsize timber to keep it going and take the edge off of the chill coming from the lake. I chose to cook on my gas stove for convenience sake. The spaghetti was great. I had the yogurt and granola for desert. By the time I was done eating, it was around seven o’clock and totally dark. I stayed up and enjoyed the fire for a while longer and turned in.

I always carry a pretty heavy sleeping bag for the sake of comfort. I wore a stocking cap, long underwear and a light long sleeve shirt. I was perfectly warm in the bag atop the Thermo-rest mattress. I never really sleep well while camping and around midnight, I heard what sounded like rain hitting the rain fly on the tent. It was not heavy just a light sprinkle and then it stopped. It lasted less than a minute. Throughout the night there were several other times when the rain started and stopped. I had pulled my backpack and other gear under the vestibule of the tent just in case it rained but I was not planning on rain until the following day. I began to wonder if there had been a weather change. My phone was off because I did not have it fully charged when I left the house and did not want the battery to run down in case of an emergency. In my haste to leave, I had also left my remote charger at the house.

At around four in the morning, it began to rain continuously. The temps were still in the low fifties at the time and remained that way until around 6ish. At around six am, I heard what sounded like a freight train to my north coming across the lake. I immediately recognized the sound as high wind. The freight train of wind, water and cold hit the north side of my tent a second later with ferocity. The tent held up fine and did not bend, but the sound of the water and wind pounding in to the tent ended my peaceful rest with certain finality. I realized that I storm front had arrived earlier than expected.

At that point, I had a decision to make. Either I hunker down or get my stuff together and attempt to ride it out. Although the wind brought the cold, the temperature had still not dropped below forty five degrees and I was still pretty comfortable. The rain let up after a few minutes, and I decided to make a go of it. The majority of my ride was going to be with a fairly strong wind at my back and I had plenty of layers and rain gear to keep warm. I had ridden in low temps before for extended miles, and decided I could probably handle this one.

I exited the tent on the south to protect myself from the wind which was still gusting off of the lake. Although I was back in the woods a ways the wind from the lake directly to my north was biting. Prior to exiting the tent, I had put on a base layer long sleeve shirt, long underwear, pants wool socks, boots stocking hat, down jacket with a hood and a rain jacket with a hood. I had left my heavy weight gloves inside my backpack. As I began strapping things on the bike, I realized that my hands were getting too cold to function very well. Snapping and tying things together was becoming more difficult. After securing the other items on the bike, I then put my gloves on.

It was time to take down the tent. This proved to be very difficult in the high winds. I was not able to take it apart with my gloves on, so I slipped off my left glove and began taking things down. The wind continued to blow and the cold was getting colder. While I was taking the tent down, my left hand ended up covered in water and mud. I cleaned it off on my pants and put my glove back on which inadvertently got the inside of my glove wet. This became somewhat painful later.

The tent was impossible to fold in the wind. I tried to find some cover from the wind to fold it up properly but was unable to do so. I was unable to get the tent in the bag and therefore unable to carry it. Given the temperature and the wind, I decided to leave the tent to lighten my load and head out, planning on coming back after it in the truck later in the day. I hid it behind a fallen log and saddled up. Sometimes you just have to cut your losses.

The storm was blowing out of the northwest and the wind was pretty brutal as I rode out. To leave the lake, I had to ride approximately three miles to the west before turning south on Indiana road. For the most part the first three miles is a climb out of the lake. With the wind blowing from my front right quarter, it was a low gear struggle. My left hand began to get cold so I tucked my fingers in to the palm section to keep warm. I was able to control the drop bars fine this way although it was not ideal. After about two miles, I noticed that as I shifted nothing was happening. I realized that my rear derailleur was freezing up. The wind was blowing water in to the rear cassette and derailleur mechanism combing with the water from the road and the cold was icing things over. By mile three and my turn to the south, I could use my front gears but my rear was locked solid.

I got off the bike and attempted to free up my back derailleur. I hopped back on continuing south. The rear shifters started working again but were somewhat sporadic. I slipped my fingers back in to the fingers of my left glove as I rode and realized that the fingers of the glove were stiff with ice.  I rode through Mont Ida and headed east on 1300 road. As I got in to the hilly sections of 1300, both my front and my rear derailleur’s froze up. I was stuck in the lowest gear in the rear and the middle gear up front. My breaks were also rock solid and would not pull. As I got off at one point to attempt to free things up, I noticed that the cable housing to both derailleurs were coated  with mud and ice easily doubling their diameter. My cables were frozen solid with approximately five miles to go to get to Welda and the temps were dropping fast.

I did not know what the temperature was but I felt warm. My layers were working very well. My left hand was cold but not hurting and my right hand was fine. My feet were a bit cold but not uncomfortable. My thought was to get to Welda and evaluate. I am not a fast rider, but I must say that the five miles to Welda from the time my bike had iced up, was the most miserably slow riding I have ever done. I got off to walk the hills a couple of times and when I got back on the bike, my pedals had frozen over and I had a hard time keeping my feet on board. The low gearing was horrible on the flats and downhill’s working against my efforts at speeding up. I felt like I could have walked faster. Welda was a wonderful sight when I finally pulled in to town around 9am after covering approximately 11.5 miles around two and a half hours.

After arriving in Welda, I stopped at the bike station and checked out the bike. It was frozen. The shifting and the breaks were totally locked up. The rain had stopped. For how long, I was not sure but it was not raining at the moment. I believe that the temperature was around twenty two degrees and the wind was still blowing and gusting out of the north. I realized that my next stop at the diner in Colony was approximately eight miles away with a total of twenty one miles to get home.

It was the first time that I had taken a close look at my gear other than my bike since leaving the lake. I realized that my rain coat and hood was iced over. It was hard and brittle. Ice fell from the jacket as I shook it. My boots were covered in brown road grime and ice and the bottom of my pants were brittle with ice as well. My gloves were soaked but fortunately still keeping my hands warm. I was sweating which had caused my under shirt to become wet and my down jacket was also wet from sweat but still keeping me warm. I had an insulated long sleeve shirt that was still dry in my back pack but that was it. I decided to call it quits and call for a pickup.

I pulled my phone out and turned it on. It initially came on and then immediately indicated that it was at zero power and shut itself off as if to say “it’s too cold to be out here I’m going back to sleep.” Now when it comes to Welda, there are really no businesses there that I know of. It is a very small town. There are a couple blocks of scattered houses and a few old buildings but that is about it. My options were either to find someone to loan me a phone, continue to ride south and take my chances or head to 169 Highway and put a thumb up and hope for a ride. Fortunately, I was able to find a helpful hand to loan me a phone. I called my wife and left a message on her voice mail.

After calling my wife, I headed back to the bike station and hoped that she would get the message and send someone my way. While at the bike station, I changed in to a dry thermal shirt and layered back up the best I could. I felt pretty warm and was out of the wind. A few minutes later, the gentleman who had let me borrow his phone came down and brought me a cup of coffee and let me know that my wife had called back. He said that there was someone on their way. We had a brief conversation and I thanked him for his help and the coffee. I quit drinking coffee a couple of years ago, but not that day. It was the best coffee I have ever had. A little while later, I was safely inside my friend’s truck headed back to Iola. I later returned and picked up my tent, and other than my pride there was no harm done.

The aftermath

After taking a shower, eating and warming up at the house, I started the clean up process. I put the bike in the front yard and used hot water to clean it all off. It was a mess. Fortunately nothing was broken or permanently damaged. The tent is still hanging from a hook on the ceiling of the back room along with my sleeping bag to dry out. All of the dirt covered bags and gear are in a pile on the floor waiting to be cleaned.

 

While spending time reflecting on this misadventure, I have come to several conclusions. First of all, riding in cold weather is not the same as riding in hot weather (understatement of the year). This may seem a given, however do not forget it. Although I was well packed for the short distance, I was not necessarily prepared for the mechanical issues that I was to be bogged down with. Be ready or stay home. Second, always consider that the weather forecast may be wrong. Be ready for the worst possible situation should the weather change which it often does in the winter. And third, do nothing hastily in the winter. Do not rush your preparation. I should have taken additional chargers or batteries for the phone. I was fortunate to not be too far away from civilization. If I had been, the outcome might have been devastatingly different. And lastly, know the capabilities of your gear in the weather that you are riding in. Once your equipment fails, you are out of luck. And I do not want to rely on luck when it comes to sub freezing temps while being stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Enjoy the Ride. 

January Bass

Although cold enough to wear a light down jacket, it was fairly warm for the last day of January. The night before, I had decided to pack up my bike fishing gear and roll out early  the following day. The only real difference between my bike fishing gear and my regular fishing gear is that while bike bound in route to my favorite fishing holes, all of my regular fishing gear is in pieces and stuffed in to my backpack. The Camelback pack that I use has one water bottle holder on each side and a tightening strap that runs from back to front above the mesh holders. The disassembled fishing rods fit nicely in the mesh water bottle holders and are cinched down with the tightening straps. It works out real well. I have a small flat tackle box tray that contains various jigs, hooks, bobbers, and some smelly stink bait for the channel cat. I usually take two rods so that I can set one on the bottom for the channel cat and then keep one to try my luck for the crappie, bass or whatever else might be biting.

After taking the kids to school I headed out on the bike for my morning fishing adventure. I was not going very far. I took the local Southwind rail trail to the connecting trail that connects the Southwind with the Lehigh trail and headed back in to the woods. Elm Creek runs along the north side of the Lehigh trails. As I came up to the fishing hole, I parked the bike and shed a layer as it had begun to warm up slightly. It had been a nice ride. It was early enough that there was not much wind and the temperature was just right for a comfortable ride. The water in the creek looked very still. It was moving very slowly. There was a light fog over the creek through which the sun glistened on the water.

I unloaded my gear and assembled my rods. I tied a trouble hook on one rod and loaded it with some stink bait. I set a sinker about two feet above the hook and cast the line in to the water.  I set the pole down and started tying a rooster tail on the other pole. There are a lot of trees lining the water way and it does not take much to get tangled up. I fished up and down the bank. Fishing is worse than gambling. You are always sure that if you just throw one more line it you will catch the big one. I continued to cast and move around having no luck. Then, when I was least expecting it, I felt a fish strike the line. I attempted to set the hook and the fish began to run. It felt like a fair size fish but I would never know for sure. Either the line was not set or the fish somehow twisted the hook loose as my fishing pole popped back straight and the fish was gone as fast as it had come. 

After losing my first fish, I decided to check on my other line. It was still standing where I had left it. I reeled it in to check the bait which was still there. I cast it back out again and let it sink to the bottom in hopes that a large channel cat would eventually stumble across the bait. It was not to be however. I  changed my jig to a popper on my casting line in hopes of bringing something up from the depths of the abyss witht the plooping sound of my new jig. Amazingly enough, it worked. On the second cast, I watched a bass hit the popper about ten feet from the shore. I was so astonished that I did a poor job of setting the hook for the second time and the slippery little booger disappeared beneath the dark water. Watching a fish hit top water bait is amazing. From my slightly elevated position, I could see the white skin of the fish rise and grab the popper and take it down beneath the water. It ran with it for a bit but then shook loose and was gone. Watching the strike had been awesome, but catching it would have been better. After casting for some time with no luck, I decided to pack up and head to another location on the back to the house.

I found a spot where a contributory fed in to the main creek and decided to give it a go. I figured there might be fish feeding from the feeder creek that was running in to the larger creek. I decided to tie on the rooster tail again and gave it a toss. On the second cast, I got a pretty strong hit. I set the hook and the fight was on. The rod I was using was a pretty light rod with a light line as well. It can be misleading and make smaller fish seem pretty big but this one was putting up quite a fight. I finally beached the big bass and was thrilled to see how big it was. I did not weigh it but it was a pretty good size fish. I unhooked him and put him back in the creek for another day. I like catching fish more than cleaning and eating them. After releasing my first catch of the day, I cast out my line again. To my surprise, on the second or third cast, I hooked another bass and brought it shore. It was about the same size as the first one. I couldn’t help but think, what a great way to spend the morning of the last day of January than by bikefishing. Be sure to give it a try sometime.

After releasing my second catch of the day, I decided that would be enough. I had combined two of my favorite things to do in an incredibly beautiful setting. The only thing better than riding bikes and catching fish is doing them together. I disassembled my rods and stored my gear. After putting my gear away, I realized that I had not taken my biking gloves off while fishing. So next time I see you on the trail, if you smell something fishy, don’t worry, it is just me. I had a nice ride back to the house. I am looking forward to seeing what February brings.

Enjoy the ride

Milestones

Other than kidney stones, in general there are three types of stones that reflect special events in our lives, birthstones being the first. The birth stone is the colored stone that represents the day that we arrived in this world. A number of years ago, after our last child was born. I bought my wife a necklace that contains the birthstone of each of our children. She proudly wears it like many other mothers do in honor of that day and that child. The ending of our days is represented by a headstone. The headstone or gravestone is the marker that remains in memory of our time here in this world. Some are quite elaborate and some are simple markers containing your name, date of birth and the date that you passed on. Mine will read David Shelby Born Oct, 13, 1966 Died __________. Between those dates a number of milestones exist.

Milestones represent important events in our lives. The Bible refers to them as Stones of Remembrance. We all have them. Sometimes they reflect family events such as weddings, or the birthing of a child, or our first house together. Milestones exist in our education when we graduate, obtain scholarships, get accepted to schools or score well on certain tests. Milestones occur in our careers when we start new jobs, get raises, complete certain projects get promotions or tell our bosses to shove off. 

In the life of a cyclist, there are a number of milestones. Maybe it was your first bike. Or the day you started riding a mountain bike. My first mountain bike race was a milestone. A quite comical one at that but I will save that one for another day. My milestones include my first bike packing trip. My ride across the Katy trail with my sons is a milestone and the ride across a portion of the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route over several days in Colorado is another. I clearly remember the first time that my chain slipped under pressure causing the bike to lock up throwing me over the bars. I could go on and on.

Sometimes for cyclists, the milestones are just that. Mile-stones. I remember thinking that to ride twenty miles would be next to impossible. And then I rode the Katy trail and we were riding fifty to seventy miles per day. I was truly amazed. Amazed at both the amount of miles that we covered, and at how bad my butt hurt. There is always a price to pay to accomplish great things. One of the big milestones in a cyclist’s life is the one hundred mile single day ride, referred to as the Century. It is a distance that screams can’t be done. The Century is a call that requires an answer. It is a ghostly voice that won’t leave you alone once its seed has been sown in your mind. The one hundred miler is a challenge, a dare, that will require you to bring your mind and body in to subjection in order to endure.  So after talking about it many times, I finally got tired of talking about it and made the decision to do it. Here are my reflections.

   Fashion is not always a consideration when you are cold

I picked an odd time to ride my first Century. It was February 11^th, 2016. It was a bitterly cold day in February. I had a conversation with a fellow cyclist the day before about riding long distance rides and races. When we concluded the conversation, something inside of me said that talk was cheap. I had talked about it enough. It was time to get on my bike and ride. I spent some time the night before preparing my gear and loading my bike. It was going to take some additional gear simply due to the temperatures and time of day that I was leaving. It was my goal to get up and ride out at 4am in the morning. I was late as usual and got on the road at 4:45am which worked out fine. My path was simple. In Iola we are at one end of the Prairie Spirit Trail which is a rail trail leading north from town ending up in Ottawa Kansas, approximately fifty miles north. A round trip would accomplish my goal. One of my sons had done the round trip ride a few years before and I had wanted to do it ever since.

Realizing that I would need some extra calories, I packed some chicken salad and some bread for sandwiches. I also took a bag of cashews and pecans and several Cliff bars for good measure. I ate a decent breakfast of two eggs toast, and a banana. I also downed a bottle of Gatorade and a big glass of water.  I rode the Salsa Fargo with a DIY frame bag and two DIY top bar bags. I also carried a Camel pack with some water and two bottles of Gatorade on the front forks. I did not want to carry the Camel back but I was glad I did later. It was very cold that morning so I layered up good with the clothing that I had. I wore a standard pair of leather tennis shoes with a thick pair of wool socks.

At 4:45, I headed north in the darkness in 22 degree weather directly in to a consistent north wind. It was quite uncomfortable. It was bad enough that I wore ski goggles to keep the cold from drying my eyes out. A little more than seven miles in to the ride, my goggles were fogging up making it impossible to see and forcing several stops to clean them out. By the time I reached Colony Kansas, approximately ten miles north my hands, feet and belly were chilling pretty bad, and the water bottles that I was carrying on the bike frame were both frozen. I stopped in Colony and ate a Cliff bar and considered my situation. I almost decided to head back to my nice warm bed that was only ten miles south with the wind at my back. The day light however was just starting to break and I figured that the sun would warm things up just enough to be bearable so I continued on after my short break.

      Sunrise north of Colony Kansas

The sun rose when I was a couple of miles north of Colony. It did not warm things up much but the sunrise was enough to motivate me to continue on. It was truly beautiful. I stopped for a quick break in Welda and Garnett where I got a good picture of the bike next to a train caboose which is to the north of the old train depot. Unfortunately time did not allow me to stick around and check out the depot. I will have to save that for another day. My next stop was in Richmond where I ate my first chicken salad sandwich and some cashews. I dumped one of the bottles of slushy Gatorade in to my Camel water bag in my backpack in order to thaw it out. It was still very cold at that point. After filling up in Richmond, I continued north.

        Another sunrise shot over "On Golden Pond"

          Caboose in Garnet Kansas

The battle of the mind and body which occurs on long rides is incredible. We have life so easy. And forcing ourselves to do things that are difficult for the most part is just not common. We live lives in warm homes, drive nice cars, work good jobs, have a little money in the bank (sometimes), and our day to day lives are pretty comfortable. We don’t have to walk or ride far. We don’t have to stress our muscles or our minds much so when we do it is a very unnatural thing. My body starts to hurt and my immediate mental response is to call my wife and have her pick me up when I get to Ottawa. We always have an easy out if we want it and that makes finishing these types of events even more difficult.

About ten miles south of Ottawa I had had enough. I was ready to activate the emergency pickup plan and hunker down once I reached Ottawa and await the arrival of the mini-van. It was about that time that I came across a trail angel. A two wheeled wanderer. I came across Jimmy. When I discovered Jimmy he was stomping on a can that someone had left on the trail. As I stopped to say hello, he picked up the can and placed it in a plastic bag that was tied, along with several other bags, on the handle bars of his bike. Jimmy was pretty rough looking. His clothes were worn and dirty. His hair was long and knotted. Jimmy’s skin was dark and weather worn, showing signs of a hard life. Jimmy was not wearing fancy bicycle clothing or a helmet. He was pulling a loaded trailer with a tire on one side and a rim on the other that was packed to the top, behind an inexpensive mountain bike that was covered with numerous plastic bags and other assorted items.

I stopped and said hello. Jimmy sauntered over to me and said hello and smiled. I noticed that he seemed a little nervous. He was shuffling his feet like a child does when he has been caught doing something wrong. He had his hands behind his back and was kind of shuffling the rocks beneath his boots with his head down while swaying back and forth. I told him my name and reached out my hand and he responded in kind. I asked him where he was headed and he said that he was headed to Ottawa and then on to Oregon. I asked him where he had come from and he said Oklahoma. I asked him if he had friends or family in Oregon and he said that he had once had some friends in Oregon when he was in college but he did not know if they were still there or not. In talking to Jimmy, I could tell that he suffered from some mental illness issues. He communicated very much like a young teen. He had a lazy eye which also caused him to move his head on occasion to keep things in focus.

My friend Jimmy. May the wind always be at your back

I asked Jimmy how his food supply was and he said it was not so good. I reached in to my pack and gave him the remainder of my cashews and pecans and a couple of Cliff bars. I figured that I was going to stop in Ottawa and grab a burger before my return ride, a luxury that Jimmy might not have. We stood there for a moment Jimmy and I as if we were the best of friends. I don’t know how long it had been since anyone cared enough to take a picture of Jimmy but I felt compelled to do so. I asked him if I could get a picture of him next to his bike and he was child like excited about having his picture taken. After taking his picture, we said our goodbyes and I headed on north. After spending time with Jimmy, the pain in my legs and lungs had disappeared to be replaced with a profound sense of gratitude. I was thankful that I could ride. Thankful that I was able to breath and that I still had a beating heart. I was thankful for the ability to feel the cold biting through my skin. I was thankful for my wife and my kids and my home and the friends that I have. I was thankful for so many other things that guys like Jimmy will never have. There are a lot of reasons why I ride bikes. Not the least of which is the amazing people that you meet in the most unlikely places.

I arrived in Ottawa as planned. I stopped and grabbed a burger and glass of tea at the local truck stop and headed back south. The ride back was long and uneventful really, just another fifty miles of beauty and pain. I rolled in to the garage after eleven and a half hours on the trail and limped in to my warm house shaking from my body burning 2634 calories throughout the ride. I heated up a fajita and sat down at my desk to reflect. Then I took a long warm shower and awaited the muscle cramps which never came.

    Sunset at the north end of Iola

So what will I remember about my first Century ride? Amidst all the beauty and pain, the first thing is that it was a ride in which I conquered my mind and body when they were both screaming to quit. Don’t let your fears of the challenge keep you from doing it. When you think you cannot go further, you can. It is a good principle when on the saddle of a bicycle and in the living of life.

Often it is not the what’s that we remember but the who’s that are most important. I don’t know what will become of Jimmy. But I am thankful that I had the privilege of meeting him. I am thankful for his childlike mind in which nothing is impossible and his simple ways, both of which the world could use a lot of these days. So here’s to Jimmy. May God bless you and keep you safe my friend. May the wind always be at your back.

Enjoy the ride. 

My Opinions Of The Salsa Fargo

Salsa Fargo Review

Greetings fellow bicycle enthusiasts. I have yet to do a product review and thought I would give it a go with a review of my 2012 Salsa Fargo. I purchased the Fargo two years ago and although I have not kept track I would guesstimate that I have put well over one thousand miles on it. It has been used as my main bike packing mule. I have ridden it on all types of terrain. We have travelled through snow, on gravel roads, dirt roads, single track, and on parts of the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. I have also slimmed down the tires and used it as a daily commuter. I am not a tech guy or a mechanic so I will primarily focus on the way the Fargo has ridden over the last two years. The technical specs can be found on the Salsa website.

The Fargo is a great off road touring/adventure bike. It has performed flawlessly during multiple overnight trips on gravel roads, dirt roads and rail trails. The gearing is perfect for the ups and downs of gravel travel. I have found it to be a very relaxing ride on gravel roads. The bike handles incredibly well over gravel and dirt. The bike is also a great climber on long hills. The 29 inch wheels role gently over rocks, roots and most anything else that I have come across on the road or off.

The Fargo performs very well when loaded with gear. I have travelled with panniers and other bags strapped to the back rack. I have strapped tents and sleeping bags on the handle bars and the frame. There are plenty of places to connect water bottles and other accessories. In fact you can spend a small fortune on Salsa Anything Cages and bike bags that are specifically designed for the Fargo. However if you are on a limited budget, you can purchase a rear bike rack from Nashbar for twenty dollars or less and it will haul any throw together bag you can strap on. The bike rides incredibly well and is very stable when loaded down. I can’t say that you don’t notice the weight when loaded but I can honestly say that it is not a distraction even on long steep climbs. It is not a particularly fast bike but it is not designed to be.

Riding the Fargo downhill is a lot of fun. The drop bars are very comfortable to tuck down and let it roll. I have ridden the bike on multiple mile downhills on gravel and paved roadways in Colorado and it was incredibly comfortable and easy to control. I would not compare it to a road bike however it was a close second given the big tires and basic mountain bike design.

Although the Fargo has been functional on single track, it is not designed for true single track terrain. It does well on long slow climbs and flat single track riding. It also does well on single track downhill as long as it is not real technical. However I have found that the drop bars and the bar end shifters are not ideal for extended single track riding. The bike does not do well in technical settings either. Some of this may be personal preference; however for me the design of the bike is just not suited for riding over large rocks on tight trails. This being said, it can be ridden on pure single track trails. You just have to understand its limitations. Quick shifting is going to be challenging, riding in a flat bar position is going to be somewhat narrow and braking is not ideal on tight quickly changing terrain. It is possible to change the handle bar configuration on the Fargo but losing the great touring options of the drop bars it not worth it in my opinion.  

When reading reviews on the Fargo I have often seen the question “is it a good one bike for everything?” Or “if I could afford only one bike, should I buy the Fargo?” Those are difficult questions that are largely based upon personal preference. I would say that if the majority of your riding is going to be off road touring, and you are going to ride single track on occasion then the answer is yes it would be a good “one bike” to own. However if you are looking for a bike to strap on the back of a car and head out to hammer down some great single track, and then ride an occasional off road tour, I would not recommend it as your “one bike.”

Overall the Fargo has been a great bike that I still find very enjoyable to ride. Mechanically the bike has performed flawlessly. The cable disc brakes are easy to maintain and perform very well even on steep downhill terrain. The 3x9 gearing set up provides a huge range of options while out touring over a variety of terrain. The wood chipper drop bars flare out slightly and are incredibly comfortable providing numerous options for hand placement while on long distance rides. I have found the stock WTB seat to be very comfortable however, to each his own on the saddle end. The bar end shifters work well while out touring and allow for more open bar space for the purpose of strapping on gear.

When used as a daily commuter, the bike also performs very well. I have ridden it with the large tires and I have also thinned it down and placed some 700c tires on it for the purpose of gaining a little additional speed. It works fine both ways. I am using it now for a daily commuter with the larger tires on board and it works fine. It is incredibly comfortable on pavement. Keep in mind however that my daily ride is only a couple of miles each way. If you were travelling greater distance and looking for a daily commuter specific ride, a road bike would probably be a better bet. That being said, the Fargo is an incredibly fun bike to ride, that I would not hesitate to ride to work over multiple miles of pavement. The shorter wheel base and large tires however will make for a little longer ride to work in the morning.

The Fargo is a great bike. I would recommend it to anyone who wants a well constructed multi-purpose bike. Just understand its design before you spend the thousand plus dollars on it. If you are looking to be the king of the single track then you might want to look elsewhere. However if you love off road touring that can handle the occasional single track then I cannot think of a better bike for the job.

Enjoy the Ride

Two Bridges Ride

What a beautiful day for a ride. I took out early headed southbound and down. The Southwind Trail lived up to its name as usual. I managed to start before the winds became too strong though. My goal was to ride to Humboldt and then head west across the bridge and out in to the wide openness of the Allen County gravel roads. I hoped to touch the Woodson County line and then head back north and take gravel back as far as I could towards Iola then hop on the highway and head home.

 

      Southwind Trail

The ride to Humboldt was wonderful. It was great riding the trail again. About half way to Humboldt, I encountered three foxes (real foxes not cute girls) playing around in the trail ahead of me. I managed to get a picture of one of them but they did not let me get to close. As I began to approach the one in the photo, he took off and ran ahead of me for quite some time. He stayed out ahead by about fifty yards or so and eventually jumped in to the woods and I lost sight of him.

                         Fox in the Distance

 

 

                                                                Another Shot of the Fox



In Humboldt, I stopped at the Neosho River Park for a little break to stretch the legs a bit. As I pulled in to the park, I noticed a gentleman who would later introduce himself as Wayne Smith and his wife Peggy. Wayne is on the board that manages the park and he and Peggy were out picking up fallen limbs and some trash that others had left behind. I always appreciate people like Wayne and Peggy for their dedication to taking care of the things we have been so blessed with here. Wayne and I had a great conversation. I believe he said that he was 83 years young. He was also in the Navy during the Korean War. Thanks for your service Wayne both then and now.

                                                                                                      Neosho River in Humboldt

After finishing my conversation with Wayne, I headed west out of town. I turned north on 900 Rd. and then headed back west on Hawaii Road. I then headed out Hawaii to 600 and headed north to Iowa I think. Whether it was Iowa or not, I headed west again to Yarrow and then north. I came back east on something and then took 400 north all the way to Nebraska Road. 400 is a fun gravel road to ride with some great little down hills. Don’t forget though that in mountain biking, what goes down must come up. Once I hit Nebraska road, I headed back east to the rock house road and then north to the highway.

                                                                                 County Roads

Once I hit the highway it was eastbound and down to the Neosho River Park in Iola where I stopped for my PBJ and Hershey’s almond bar refresher. I took a slight detour back to Riverside park before heading home. While at the park, I met Carl who is a 73 year old bicycle rider who had nothing but great things to say about the Prairie Spirit and the Southwind Trails. He rides a couple times per week and enjoys both trails. He said that he is looking forward to the connection to the trail from town that is coming soon as well. He also said that although he could probably not ride the new mountain bike trail that is being constructed, he is looking forward to walking it.

 

                       Neosho River Park in Iola

I always enjoy the ride. I enjoy discovering nature, viewing wildlife and the freedom of getting lost on county roads in the middle of nowhere. But the people that you meet on the way are some of the most joyous gems to be discovered. I was able to meet some great people today. Should I make it to 73 years of age, and no longer be able to ride the mountain bike trails, I hope I may still be found once or twice a week peddling somewhere between here and Humboldt or Carlyle. And should I reach 83 years of age I hope I am given the time of day by some young rider who finds me picking up trash in a park that I might share with them the adventures that I once had on the same hills that lay before them.

 Enjoy the Ride

A Taste of the Divide

I just returned to the flatlands of Kansas after a few days of touring the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route which led me on a course form Steamboat Springs, Colorado down to Ute Pass. I had been planning this trip for the better part of a year. I had been doing a fair amount of riding prior to the trip in preparation for some of the distances. I had initially planned on riding from Steamboat Springs to Lynx Pass on day one. This section would have encompassed about forty miles about half of which would be on pavement. The remaining dirt road would be mostly uphill. Day two would entail riding from Lynx Pass to Kremmling, which would be another thirty five to forty miles of what was thought to be mostly downhill to Radium and then uphill to Kremmling. Day three we were to ride from Kremmling to a campground on the eastern side of Ute Pass during which we would have traversed another thirty five or so miles. The plan was to then go over Ute Pass and down in to Silverthorne which would have been about another twenty three or so miles.

Our taste of the divide started on Tuesday night in Denver with some friends whom we had not seen in several years. Part of our planning included a couple of days to acclimatize in preparation for the altitude in comparison to my normal riding conditions in southeast Kansas. The night was well spent. Wednesday morning, we then than loaded up in the van and headed up to Steamboat Springs. The drive and views were wonderful. We had rented a condo at Steamboat Springs for two days. Our trip was to include several components, one of which was a family vacation including my lovely wife and our three daughters, ages nine, eleven and thirteen. My son and I were to do the riding and meet the ladies of the house at various spots throughout the trip.  So although we did ride equipped to camp, Kathy and the girls, along with the van (affectionately dubbed the chuck wagon), met and at times picked us up following sections of the ride at which time we would then drive to a camp ground if needed.

View from the condo balcony at Steamboat Springs

On our second day in Steamboat Springs, we decided to go on a five or so mile hike to the north of town. After arriving at the trail head, we set out on foot to see what we might discover. Not being familiar with the trail and attempting to follow the instructions on the material in hand, we ended up taking the long way around which made things a bit more challenging. However it was a great walk and we did not get rained on given our late start. Our hike included several notable discoveries.

     Kathy and Sidney on the hike north of Steamboat

Poop is not something that I have spent a lot of time studying. However, in the mountains it does come in handy to be familiar with that which is left behind from certain four-legged beasts which although may mean you no harm, can at times present certain potentially hazardous encounters. After hiking up and over a pass, we entered a fairly wooded section of the trail and discovered what I considered a large amount of poop which appeared to my untrained eyes to be similar to that of the standard cow pie found in eastern Kansas. However some of the excrement also appeared to be similar to that which may be discharged from the local bear populace. As we continued down the trail, we began to hear things. I first heard what sounded to be like a low beastly growl off in the distance. We also noticed that there were numerous areas in the grass along the trail that were matted down and had clearly been used as a bed for by some large animal or animals in the area.

 As we continued down the trail the animal noise began to get closer. I had never known bears to make a lot of noise and I have also never known bears to stick around much when people area around so my mind then went to that of a moose. As we slowly continued down our path, we began to hear more than one groaning beast in the woods. As we were coming around a corner, I noticed movement in the woods. As I focused my attention on the area of the movement, I then noticed the brown face of a cow staring back at me with the normal bewildered cow face that you so often see when riding down country roads in Kansas. I had forgotten that there are a number of free range areas in Colorado and this was one of them. Before long we were being followed by a number of cows that had appeared from the woods along our isolated trail. We continued our trek somewhat relieved, with cows in tow.

Local wild life

The trail wound down to a beautiful creek where we stopped for some lunch which we had packed along the way. Another family came from the other direction of the trail and was enjoying the other side of the creek while we ate our lunch. After finishing our brief siesta, the lady that was across the creek hollered over to us that there were some cows coming down in to our area of the creek bed. I guess I should say it was the cattle’s area of the creek bed. Several cows then appeared from the trail above us and slowly walked down to the creek right next to us and stopped for a drink. It was all very entertaining. The cows eventually headed back up out of the creek bed and we picked up our stuff and walked on.

                                                                     This creek made for a great lunch stop

 

 One of the features of this trail was an old rustic barn. Upon arrival, the girls and Tyler decided to climb up and explore the hayloft. It was a great time for all including Kathy who joined them for a picture up top. Everyone then came back down and we continued along the trail which continued along a mountainside above a creek that roared below us. We eventually made it back to the parking area after walking the full loop and headed back to the condo. It was a great family hike and a great way to get our lungs ready for a ride at the altitude. Just as we arrived back at the condo from our little hike, it began to rain and hail heavily. The weather in Colorado this year had up to this point been very wet. We hoped that this was not foreshadowing of days to come.

Old barn along the trail

 

Day One: Steamboat Springs to Lynx Pass

After enjoying a decent sleep for the second night in the condo, Tyler and I rose early the following morning to begin the biking portion of our family adventure. The goal for the day was Lynx Pass. Based on the maps and other computer resources, we determined the mileage to be somewhere in the neighborhood of around forty miles. I had initially planned on taking a Camel Back with me to carry water and a few extra supplies that might not fit in my small panniers and my small frame bag. In consideration of the mountain terrain and the fact that we were meeting the girls at the top of the pass, I chose to lighten the load and just take enough items for one night should we be stranded due to a mechanical or some other unforeseen reason. This ended up being a good move for me.

The equipment that I took consisted of the following:

Bike (Salsa Fargo)

Eureka Two Man Tent

North Face Sleeping Bag

Small Back Pad

Extra Clothing             (1 pair of socks, 1 underwear, 1 shirt, 1 shorts, 1 long sleeve shirt, 1 rain gear)

First Needs Water Filter

Three Bottles of Water

Tool Kit (2 tubes, tire wrenches, Allen wrenches, star wrenches, multi-purpose tool, chain lube)

Food (Trail mix, dried fruit, power bars)

As far as positioning goes, I strapped the tent across my handle bars. Tyler carried the poles and the tent cover. I combined the tent and the back pad inside of a water resistant bag and strapped it on the top of the rack on the back of the bike. The tool kit was stored in the small frame back and all other items were tucked away inside of the panniers on the back of the bike. Everything was positioned well and secured tightly for the trip. In retrospect, I would have been fine for a couple of overnight stays if we would have wanted to. If we were going to be bike camping on our own, I would have added my penny stove, a very small mess kit and a couple of dried meals. But as it was, those items were not needed.

Once we had loaded up the bikes we rode out headed south from Steamboat Springs. The weather was perfectly cool. The ride from Steamboat was on pavement for several miles. As we headed out, we passed a road rider that was taking a break just outside of town. He caught and passed us pretty quickly as we continued south. The early part of the day consisted of mostly rolling hills. These hills were a good warm up for what was to come. We stopped a couple miles south of Steamboat Springs to take a few pictures looking back at the town before it was finally out of sight.

                Farewell to Steamboat Springs

Continuing our trek south, we missed our first turn which exited the road and added about four miles to the days riding. When we realized it we had gone up the road about two miles up hill so the two miles back was nice. Our road rider came up behind us again at this point. He was flying. A pickup truck had just passed us and he was keeping up and in fact almost passed it on the way by. It was impressive. I cannot imagine a better training ground for a road racer than the Colorado roads. The rider turned around after the truck sped off and came back to join us on the ride. He asked us what we were doing and I told him that we were riding a section of the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route to Lynx Pass. He said that he had a friend that had ridden to Lynx Pass the week before. He said that it was a really nice ride but that his friend had advised him that it was really “buggy” up there last week. Given all the rain that the state had received this year I did not doubt it. He confirmed the turn off that was ahead and then took off and disappeared in the distance.

Once we made it back to our missed exit, we headed south again until reaching Highway 131 which we road on for about a quarter mile then continued our trek to the south which brought us to Catamount Lake. The view of the lake was spectacular and the mountain backdrop was incredibly beautiful. We ran in to another rider out for a morning ride, who had stopped to watch a deer with two little ones in a field of tall grass just south of the lake. He said that he had been up to Lynx Pass in years past and it was some great riding. He had been up in Steamboat on business so he was headed back but he wished us well. One thing I have really learned to enjoy about bike riding is the community nature that exists between riders. I very rarely come across a rider that is not willing to share their experiences on the road or help out when needed.

Catamount Reservoir to the south of Steamboat Springs 

 

After leaving the lake, and continuing for several miles, the route takes you off the pavement onto a forest road most of the way to Lynx Pass. There was very little pavement between the first forest road and Lynx Pass, if any. The forest road we were on was wonderful and for a while it was only slightly uphill running next to a small river that was flowing very fast creating a wonderful watery orchestra of sound in the woods. The road was mostly dirt with a few potholes to bring you back on focus should you be spending a little too much time watching the river, rather than the road.

           Creek on the way Stage Coach Lake

 

The road eventually wound to the west and began some consistent, albeit not extremely long, climbs. It rose above the river and a number of other creeks where we could see a few fly fishermen enjoying a great morning in search of brown and brook trout. Eventually the ride brought us to Stagecoach Lake.  Stagecoach Lake is an 820 acre reservoir that is surrounded by mountains. The trail around the lake was incredible with some really good single track directly next to the lake. It was not technical and very smooth and rolling. The trail made for a great ride for a couple of miles.

The lake and area also has a great history beginning with the Ute and Snoshone Tribes using the area for hunting, gathering and making stone tools. French trappers and traders began using the valley in the 1700’s and paved the way for mining and cattle and sheep ranching which continues today. The park was also a stop on a Stagecoach Line running from Toponas to Steamboat Springs. The stagecoach Line went our out of service in 1907 (information provided by Colorado Parks and Wildlife).

                                                                                Stage Coach Lake

At Stagecoach Lake we were at approximately 22 miles into our planned 40 or so mile day. When we left the lake we began the climb up to Lynx Pass. Having done the majority of my riding in Kansas recently, I had somehow forgotten how long some of the climbs in Colorado can be. Since the ride, I have looked at the elevation chart and realized that we had in fact been riding uphill since we left Steamboat Springs. This however became very noticeable as we continued on from Stagecoach Lake to Lynx Pass. In Kansas when we come across up hills sections either on pavement or gravel, the hills tend to be rolling and generally no more than a couple of miles long. There is are also a number of places in between even on longer uphill sections where it levels out or the climb lets up a little to rest. In mountains you are either going up or down. And from a time perspective you are always going up much longer that you are going down. In eighteen mile stretch from Stagecoach Lake to Lynx Pass you are primarily going up. Fortunately the beauty of the surroundings provides a great backdrop for slow riding.

Somewhere between Stagecoach Lake and Lynx Pass, I was passed by another rider who was from Minnesota. Neil told me that he was riding from the Colorado section of the trail from the northern border to the southern border with New Mexico. He said that he wanted to eventually do the entire route from Canada to Mexico but could only get a couple of weeks off this year to do the section that we were on. We talked bikes, riding, and distances. We also talked of things we had seen and people we had met along the way so far. Again I discovered another friendly ride to share some time on the ride with. Best of luck Neil and hopefully your ride was completed safely.

The road up to Lynx Pass

 

           After riding up hill for over twenty miles,

        a little walk did our legs and lungs some good

 

After climbing approximately two thousand feet in altitude over approximately thirty seven miles of riding, I finally came to the conclusion that there was no shame in walking the last two miles to camp. If there was any shame in pushing my bike up the last steep two miles to the top of Lynx Pass I really didn’t much care. So much of bike riding is mental and my mental had melted in the sun so I turned the remainder of the uphill into a leisurely stroll. Truth be told there was nothing leisurely about it. It was a pain in the neck, back, legs, feet, posterior and other places. As we crested the top of Lynx Pass, we hopped back on the bikes to ride to the campground which was just on the other side. It was nice to see the girls and Kathy waving as we rolled in to the campground after a long day of riding. In total, we had ridden somewhere around forty miles and gained 3485 feet of altitude. Not bad for a couple of flatlanders. It was early afternoon as we set up camp and got dinner ready as a family.

A look back just before the top of Lynx Pass

 

Day two: Lynx Pass to Radium

After resting in the tent we arose the next morning to a beautiful day for riding. Truthfully I thought about packing it up and just doing a driving campground tour for a couple of days after the last couple of mile walk up to Lynx Pass. But I would have felt very defeated if we had not at least ridden to Radium which according to the map was predominately downhill. I did learn however that you must be careful not to assume that just because a map indicates that you may be losing altitude, that it does not mean you are always going downhill. In fact the ride down to the Colorado River ended up being filled with numerous up and downs which were both thrilling and daunting.

As I said earlier there is no level ground in the mountains. You are either going up or down, sometimes at a very rapid pace. I had talked to the camp host the night before and told them what we were doing. They shared the ominous news that they had just spoken with some bike riders that were doing the route going north from Mexico. They had shared the news that the section from the Colorado River to Lynx Pass was the most difficult of the ride so far. From my perspective, this was good news since we were going the opposite direction.

A good morning to some antelope just outside of camp

 

We headed out going downhill for a couple of miles until crossing highway 134. The first section of the day’s ride was beautiful. We passed a field where we could see several antelope grazing making the mountain scenery even more spectacular. Once we crossed the highway, we entered a section of rolling hills that eventually dropped to a creek that we had to cross. Prior to the creek, we came across the old Rock Creek Station which was an old Wells Fargo stop in to the 1880’s.

          An old Wells Fargo station along the route

A climb began after crossing the creek which continued for several miles until reaching highway 134 again. Another gravel/dirt road headed south towards Radium. We headed towards Radium expecting a downhill to the river to start shortly. Let’s just say that it did not quite work out that way.

The next several miles that lie ahead were filled with numerous climbs and drops. The drops were great. The climbs were steep. Some of the drops were very fast and at times a bit slippery for the bikes. Not due to the recent rains but rather the loose surface of rock, gravel and dirt. I must admit that it was quite exhilarating. Tyler was about taken out by a cow in the road and I fish tailed several times throughout the day.

During one downhill section, we had just reached the bottom and while moving at a pretty quick pace, I saw what looked like a badger in the road ahead of me. The color however was off and something did not look quite right. Tyler was up ahead and as he passed the critter, it ran back in to the tall grass on the south side of the dirt road we were on. As I passed, it had spun around in the tall grass and was looking at me straight on. It was a brown in color creature with a square nose and mouth. There were not stripes on the nose but there was a sort of bow across the top of the eyes. Along with the color and the general appearance I believe that it was a wolverine cub. I know that there are not many wolverines in Colorado, albeit that they are apparently making their way back in from the north. But given the appearance, I would almost guarantee that is what it was. I thought about stopping for a picture but given its small size I figured that the mother might be around somewhere and wanted nothing to do with the risks of stopping to take a picture so I rode off and will always wonder I suppose. Tyler said he also believed it to have been a wolverine. Whatever it was, it was a great highlight to the ride.

 

On the edge of the abyss

 

As we continued on our trek to the Colorado River, the hills began to get more and more extreme. When reaching the bottom of several downhill sections, we would spend a little time hoofing it up the hill in front of us. Some of the hills were steep enough to make it difficult to push a bike up. At one point, Tyler raced down a hill in order to catch a Jeep that had passed us just to speak with the driver who confirmed our route.  Tyler said the Jeep chase was fast and fun. I caught up with them before we headed on. They passed us again and we caught them when they had stopped at the top of the last big downhill before reaching the river.

 

             A look from the to before the downhill

                          to the Colorado River

 

The last drop down was very steep, windy and included many blind corners which presented the possible hazard of unseen vehicles coming our way. The only person that has ever died during the Tour Divide succumbed to injuries that he suffered after hitting a vehicle around one of these corners. We were as cautious as possible and had no problems. It was a wonderful sight to again see Kathy and the girls in the Radium parking lot as we crossed the river bridge and dropped down to the parking area to meet them. We loaded up and drove to our next campsite which was at the bottom of Ute Pass several miles to the south of our present location. We had survived another twenty miles and 2000 feet of elevation drop albeit on what was an incredible up and down roller coaster ride.

The kids playing in the creek next to camp

 

That night we camped and took it easy the following day. The campground we were in was wonderful right next to a decent size creek in what was discovered to be a very marshy area which made it a great moose habitat which we would later discover. The next day we took a day off and drove down to Frisco and rented some paddle boats. We all had a blast on the lake and enjoyed a nice relaxing day in some very beautiful country. After returning to camp, we prepared dinner and talked of riding over Ute Pass the following day with a little hesitation. It was predominately pavement other than the three or so miles out of the camping area, but it was still pretty daunting after coming over it in a car. After cleaning up and watching the sun set we turned in looking forward to what lie ahead on the morrow.

                    Sunset in the camp ground

Day Three: Ute Pass

Tyler and I awoke around day break on the last day of the ride. We were thinking the same thing. After sleeping pretty well the warmth of our sleeping bags made it very tempting to stay put in the tent. I would have felt like the trip was not complete without a ride over Ute Pass, so I got up stepped out of the tent to the shadow of the mountains at sunrise.

It is always when you are not looking for things in the wilderness that the things you have looked for previously seemingly appear from nowhere. As I stood enjoying the morning air, I looked over my left shoulder and saw what at first appeared to a dark spot against the landscape at about forty yards on the opposite side of the camp that I did not remember being there the night before. As I looked at it more closely, the dark spot then began to move very slowly and take on the form of a large moose just on the other side of the camp. I had seen moose in Colorado before, but never this close. It was as my wife said later, a majestic experience.

I whispered to Tyler, who was still in the tent, that there was a moose in camp and to get the girls up while I kept an eye on it. Kathy and the girls arrived from their tent a few moments later while the moose was still standing there. The moose seemed as curious about us as we were about him. Our presence did not frighten him and he continued to walk along the base of the mountain on the other side of camp. After several minutes, the moose turned around and trotted off into the forest. What great way to start the day.

Couldn't quite get the camera to focus on our camp host

 

After our experience with the moose in camp, the girls went back to bed and Tyler and I geared up and headed down the road for a final taste of the divide. There was a section of dirt road coming out of camp that stretched out for about three miles. It was mostly rolling with a few little climbs and a small dips. It was cold enough to cause my finger tips to become a little uncomfortable, but it was a good ride to pavement. We saw numerous deer meandering in the forests as we rode.

After about two miles of riding, the tree line broke and there was a river that ran parallel to the road we were on. In the middle of the river was a rock bar where to my surprise, stood another large moose with a huge rack. There were some bushes on the rock bar that the moose apparently favored for breakfast which we had momentarily interrupted. He looked at us and continued his snack while we watched in amazement. He was only thirty to forty yards away and totally unconcerned. He continued eating for awhile and then slowly walked back towards the opposite river bank. The bank was an easy six to eight feet in height and he walked up it with no problem. He then strolled gently out of sight in to the woods. I was definitely glad that we had decided to ride out rather than sleep in. They say the early bird catches the worm. I guess the same thing is true for moose.

               Another moose along the way

 

After the moose wandered off in to the wilderness, we continued our journey to the base of Ute Pass. Once we reached pavement the uphill began. From that point we had four miles up hill and then approximately six or so miles downhill. The climb was slow but steady. Once you get used to slow riding, it becomes somewhat meditative. You just keep your peddles moving while enjoying the great scenery. And there was plenty of great scenery to see. I saw more deer and several elk along the way. The elk were up high just below a ridge. I would not have seen them in a car. That is one of the wonderful things about bicycling. You can see so much more at a bicycle pace. The Henderson Mill marked our approximate half way point to the top. It is a huge lumber mill that has in fact produced some local damage to the forest which can be clearly seen.

The top came faster than I thought it would as I found Tyler parked on the side of the road just before cresting the pass. We took a little break and shot a few pictures at the tip before beginning the ride down the other side.

At the top of Ute Pass

 

After taking our short siesta, we headed down the west side of the pass to Highway 9. It started out fairly gradual. After a quarter mile of so the grade increased and we were off on a windy downhill ride that was better than any roller coaster I have ever ridden. The day before, while driving this pass in the van, I had clocked a bicycle rider coming down the pass at fifty miles per hour in one section. I do not think I reached fifty miles per hour but I am sure I hit the forty mile per hour mark. It is hard to say when you are tucked down and enjoying the wind in your face. It had taken us a couple of hours to get up the back side of the pass and the downhill only lasted for ten minutes to fifteen minutes. It made the climb well worth it.

A great view as we began the downhill portion of Ute Pass

The downhill finished out with a long straight decline that put us out right on Highway 9 that heads south into Silverthorne. Kathy and the girls picked us up at a spot somewhere in between along a river that ran under the highway. Moose, elk, deer and a great downhill made for a spectacular conclusion to three days of riding in Colorado. I can’t wait to do it again.

Enjoy the ride