Colorado – an overdue general update

After Rawlins, the out of control pick-up trucks, and some interesting culinary experiences which included nearly making an anxious pizza hut waitress cry, we were all pretty keen to make it into Colorado. Trystan and Simon, slightly less so (due to a light-hearted bet which may be divulged at some stage), which ensured we stayed one more night in Wyoming, a few miles inside the State border. This was the day we discovered the joy of finishing the riding earlier in the day – the extra couple of hours in the afternoon available to relax was golden… if only we had discovered this before day 30! Simon, with time to ponder, even produced the insightful and poetic comment straight from the heart, that … “the Aspen leaves dance in the sunlight like a million silver dollars.” With lines like that we need to get this man writing on the blog!

The next day saw us ride through to the bustling town of Steamboat Springs. The decision was made to take the suggested alternative route via the small settlement of Columbine (not that Columbine) mainly because Ben, Simon, and Trystan (but not me, not never!) were keen to avoid one particular long climb – so we got lots of smaller climbs instead. As we rode along yet another gravel road, in the middle of nowhere as usual, we came across a most impressive sight – the Three Forks Ranch. The main “ranch” house was bigger and more impressive than most of the mansions I have ever seen on TV or real life – complete with huge manicured grounds being worked on by an entire team of groundskeepers. Although no helicopters were sighted on this occasion, the scene was well made as a guided fisherman caught a trout right beside the entranceway bridge. As it turns out, a paltry USD$1500 is all you need to have a night at Three Forks.

Stopping at Columbine for lunch we met a Steamboat local who put us onto a happy hour at the local brew pub (most important question for anyone we meet on the trail is always regarding food or beer). Anyway, at this point I should say that we had resolved to arrive in Steamboat in time for dinner, as without fail if we arrive in town to early we end up spending our money on beer rather than food. So we had planned for an easy pace into Steamboat – a short off trail hike to delay our arrival was even considered. But on hearing of this happy hour that resolution went out the back door faster than Alberto’s relationship with Lance. Maybe it was the pita bread/ nutella/ cream cheese combo (which almost made one passer-by have a coronary just looking at it), maybe it was the second can of coke, or maybe it was the prospect of making the happy hour, but legs were morphed from jelly to steel for the remaining 35 miles into Steamboat, ensuring a thorough sampling of the local brewery’s product was possible. One thing that we repeatedly discover is that after riding all day, we go from being drinking lightweights to drinking featherweights. Silly but harmless activities usually ensue – but perhaps not always in keeping with being upstanding Great Divider role models!

With a cruisy rest day in Steamboat out of the way, we had two days to make it to our rendezvous with Bougie in Silverthorne. Near the end of the first day we sighted the Colorado River for the first time as we sat atop a huge valley. A great rough decent into the river valley far below followed with a swim in the suitable reward. We spent the night camping beside the Colorado – unfortunately we had an overly active railway to keep us company – I had my worst sleep of the journey to date.

Meanwhile Trystan and Simon slept surprisingly well – drugged up on cold relief tablets. With both down with a cold, and with the remaining 75 hilly miles to Silverthorne not being an attractive prospect, the crook ones and Ben decided to utilize the Grey Card – the right to take the highway due to illness. So at 10.30 that morning, the group split up for the first time for the entire trip to date. They rode the highway to Silverthorne to meet Bougie, while I took the designated route by myself. And the designated route turned out to be well worth it – with the sweetest five mile paved decent of my life, down the Ute Pass, coming appropriately near the end of the day. Five miles of no pedaling and no braking on a sweeping road with little traffic, all at a cruisy 30 – 40 mph. Road bike heaven if ever there was.

Arriving in Silverthorne (an interestingly sprawled modern town living off the back of nearby ski resorts), I rendezvous with the team, now including the long lost character that is Ryan Bougie! Within moments of meeting this professional outdoor adventurer I learn he has befriended a couple of the locals – no tents for us tonight boys! We were well taken care of by Helen and Cindy – we basically took over their apartment for the night – yet another fine example of the generous people we meet. A highlight for me was being able to watch the last couple of hours of the penultimate Tour de France stage live – with the finish atop the venerable Mt Ventoux - which went some way to making up for getting only glimpses of the tour via the internet up until then – and up to three days behind.

Leaving Silverthorne gave Mr Ultralight (Bougie) the chance to show off his rig for the first time. And with his touted mere eight pounds of gear (by comparison our trailers weight 7 kilograms unloaded) we all passed a critical eye over his system. Bougie is riding a tri-cross bike with little more than rear panniers – and not surprisingly he blazed us all on the first decent hill climb. It would appear one of the keys to success of the Bougie ultralight system is that he does not carry a tent – only a bivvy. I cannot imagine this is a particularly pleasant sleeping experience – but that does not matter. Because the second key for Bougie is to use the bivvy as little as possible. He has introduced to us the concept of “sport sleeping”, which I predict will take the adventure world by storm within the next five years - get in now so you can take the high ground of being an early adopter. Basically the idea of sport sleeping is that you sleep wherever you find suitable – and if it is the sort of place where you don’t want to get caught then all the better – just don’t get caught. But anyway, so far he has been successful and the bivvy has yet to make its inaugural appearance.

This run continued to Como – quite possibly the most interesting and memorable small settlement of the trip. We camped that night behind the local single-building school – with the bro’s, Trystan, and Bougie all sleeping in an old pump shed, alongside Jim - another great divide rider we had met. By this time we had already met a local couple who had invited us to breakfast, and had eyed up the pub for what should hopefully be a cheap beer (wrong in this case). So far so good – but the fireworks was yet to begin. But the full story of Como is one for Trystan to tell.

So with no-one except me keen to press on, for reasons Trystan will vividly explain, I decided to press onto Salida on my own. I had heard Salida is a town worth more than a cursory glance and I had spotted the opportunity of a full rest day there to explore – I could see no reason to stay in Como with the ill ones. At this point it is worth noting that I have been given the nick-name T1K or T1000. I had been led to believe that it was due to my robotic riding style – but the more I think about it, perhaps it has more to do with my at times apparent compassionless and unsympathetic nature. But I am just a man on a mission.

Before I left Como, I stopped in at Carle and Rita’s for that promised “toast and coffee”. And what a great decision that was. Toast and coffee turned out to be amazing blueberry pancakes and bacon with all the trimmings, and of course the coffee. It was a shame that I was the only rider to get to enjoy this fantastic breakfast – though on a positive note it did leave more pancakes for me. Carle and Rita, along with their good friends Paul and Aggie who also made it to this Sunday breakfast, all part-time Como locals, and all very well accomplished, (as just one example, Carle has climbed all 50-odd of Colorado’s “forteeners” (peaks over 14 thousand feet)) which ensured yet another very memorable example of local hospitality. Meanwhile, the rest of the crew were getting to know another Como local, Jason. But again, this one is Trystan’s blog domain.

On a mission to Salida, my secondary mission became apparent – to see how long I could stay dry! With close to 40 miles still left in the day the first of the thunderstorms began its chase. With a steady uphill it looked like it was going to make the catch, but the combination of a tailwind, the arrival of the crest of the hill, a slight change in route direction, and a strong motivation to stay dry, this storm which came within a half mile had lost my scent and headed off into the distance. And so this pattern was to continue for the next couple of hours, as I was at times almost surrounded by full-on thunderstorms as they made pack-like attacks. On more than one occasion, just when I though I was headed for the waterworks the route would make a convenient change in direction. Luck appeared to be on my side, but how long could it continue? In the end I made it to within 15 miles of Salida – with 13 of those being a huge 3000 ft decent. Unfortunately, the rain which was heaviest at the top of the pass, ensured this seemingly endless decent had to be taken with more care and restraint than usual.

Arriving at the doorstep of the Simple Hostel in Salida, looking appropriately hard-core with mud head to toe, I was thankfully welcomed in with open arms. This cool little hostel has a core clientele of hikers and bikers, which ensured plenty of interesting conversation with like-minded people. So there I was, in Salida, with a full rest day ahead of me and full of possibility. I had checked Bougie’s spot and they had not left Como – I will be seeing them late tomorrow at the earliest. What to do with this day ahead of me? I was even considering doing some rare bob-less single-track riding – the locals swear by their Crest Trail and for once it looked like I could get a chance to sample the cream of the local riding. What could go wrong?

At 6.30 the next morning, I knew exactly what could go wrong. Despite crossing my fingers, touching wood, staying away from black cats, and perhaps more importantly trying to practice good hygiene, now I too was down for the count with a stomach bug. My rest day took on a new meaning, as I spent a good deal of it on a couch or on the bed. While a disappointing way to spend a day in Salida, I had to be thankful that I was in Salida and not in Como – else we may never leave! My hopes were raised by seeing Bougie’s spot on the move – not only by the fact that I would see them in Salida tonight but also because it meant everyone was well enough to ride again – so this bug must be short lived. And so the crew did arrive in Salida that night, in a much improved state of health. Bougie’s bivvy-less run was to continue, as Simon befriended yet some more locals, with a night on a back lawn the result.

All this was a couple of days ago now. You may have noticed the Spot has done something a little unexpected – a malfunction perhaps? It will all come out in the wash, just not quite yet. In the mean time, Trystan has some of his own words to put up, along with another wicked round of pics, and it sounds like Simon and Bougie are going to make what hopefully won’t be one-off appearances – so more to come!