Colorado High

My ride continues. I am now in Buena Vista, Colorado and will take Route 24 north to Leadville after this posting (and a stop at the local ice cream emporium). The mountain pass coming up will be my biggest challenge so far, rising from 8,000 feet to around 11,000. So I expect to take all afternoon to reach the top.

Scenery is routinely beautiful now and should be for the next thousand miles. Western Kansas and eastern Colorado were so empty that they had a eerie appeal--at least in mornings. In the early hours each day I could say, "This is great...I'm really doing this ride!" By afternoon, when it was in the mid 90's, and the wind had kicked up, my meditations tended more in the direction of, "What were you thinking when you planned this trip."

And of course: profanity!

I rolled into Colorado along Route 96. Twice, before Eads, and right after, were stretches of 50+ miles with NO place to get food or drink. I was nervous about running into trouble but got through in good shape and gained confidence as a result. I also started seeing more riders--but all headed east. It appears to me this is a business for young people. Most of the guys and the two girls I've seen are fresh out of college and riding before they settle into the working world for forty years. I met two brothers traveling east, Dan Devos and Mike (I think); they seemed to get along better than most brothers, and I enjoyed talking to them. I lost my map after I jotted down their information. I remember most of their blog address and will try to check it out if I can.

On July 23 I picked up a steady trailing wind and sailed along like a clipper ship, covering 114 miles, the longest one-day ride I've ever done. This carried me to Pueblo, Colorado. There I stayed in a motel used mostly for long-term stays. It was across the road from a Payday Loan office, which is never a good sign. I think I was the only person there who could have proved legal status as a citizen. But my immigrant "neighbors" looked like hard-working men and so have my respect. I was sleeping nicely, too, when the front office delivered an unexpected wake-up call at 5:00 am.

"Juan?" the clerk inquired. "No. Wrong room." I answered.

I hope Juan made it to work on time.

On the 24th I rode through Canon City and up into the mountains, camping near the Royal Gorge Bridge.

The next day I spent the morning checking out the bridge and adjacent park. This is the highest suspension bridge in the world, 1053 feet above the Arkansas River. It was fun to see but I was surprised to find it isn't really a useful structure in any normal sense. It's little more than one lane wide and shakes when even a golf cart passes over. Both ends are blocked by tourist attractions, a carousel, an ice cream parlor, a gift shop and more. So there really is no place to go, except across the bridge and back to the parking lot again and then on with vacation! It was impressive, though, and I recommend it.

Yesterday, I followed Highway 50 along the Arkansas River. The Arkansas is the fifth longest river in the USA and there were hundreds of rafts from dozens of companies. A gorgeous ride all the way; and my progress was slowed as I stopped again and again to look around and cool off occasionally in the water.

I was beginning to have serious concerns about my back tire which showed heavy wear. So I took a different direction and rolled in to Salida, Colorado in the afternoon. The people at Absolute Bikes treated me like riding royalty, switched out my tire, gave me three water bottles for free, and supplied a patching kit and two spare tubes.

Salida is a booming town. A local woman told me house values have gone up 400% in the last ten years. I had my fanciest dinner yet at the Dakota Bistro and the food was excellent (I only wish Anne had been with me). The salad was fabulous and I recommend the Steak Sundance and the Fat Tire beer. Salida is a town full of bike riders, especially mountain bikers, artist types and boutiques and reminded me of a smaller Boulder.

At dinner I spoke briefly with a family at the next table and told them I was riding to raise money for JDRF. They were kind and complimentary. When I finished eating and stepped outside to unlock my bicycle, Nancy Gould followed and pressed a donation into my hand. "I'm just so impressed with what you're doing. Really," she said. I thanked her, noticed the bill was a hundred, thanked her again with emphasis. As has been true many times before, I was deeply touched.

The willingness to help shown by strangers and supporters back home in Ohio has been awe-inspiring. Worth riding itself to see!