Trifter

By the time we reached the Kansas-Colorado border we had been riding our bicycles for about 1200 miles and 14 days.  In those 2 weeks we packed a lifetime of experiences.  As we left Kansas we experienced a collective sense of anticipation for the Rocky Mountains but first we still had to get across the remaining high plains of Eastern Colorado.

As fate would have it we’d meet the Rockies even sooner than expected.  Just f few miles into Colorado I had a bicycle malfunction which left us stranded in the miniscule village of Towner.  The breakdown was simply a blown tire but I was completely out of replacement tubes.  Since we were now getting used to people helping us out, we didn’t spend too much time worrying about the outcome, we knew somehow we’d find a way to get spare parts.  And just like that as we were lingering around the town’s post office a curious teen aged boy approached and offered us some iced tea and lemonade.  We graciously accepted and when we explained our predicament his mother said she was heading to Lamar, about 60 miles away for some shopping and she thought she could squeeze us into her Chevy Suburban.   About an hour later we were in a much larger town where we were able to find an assortment of supplies.   We learned one humbling tidbit on the ride from Towner to Lamar:  this was not a planned trip.  The boy’s mother didn’t really have to go shopping.  She just figured she could help us out and get some shopping done while she was in Lamar. 

Now I can’t lie, Lamar was not the kind of town we envisioned as a typical Colorado city.  It was very industrial but didn’t look to be prospering.  We rode around looking for accommodations and accidentally ended up in a homeless shelter that, we guessed, generally served drug addicts and alcoholics.  We made a polite exit and opted to head west out of town for a few miles and find a spot along the side of the road to camp.  Luckily we got lost and had to ask a man in his yard for directions.  This serendipitous request was quite beneficial.

The man turned out to be a bit of a bicycle expert and helped us tighten spokes, adjust breaks and perform other general maintenance duties that we certainly needed.  Since it was getting late he offered his yard as a spot to camp for the night.  I found out how cold it could get in the higher elevations at night even on a hot summer day.  But I also found out that an old refrigerator box provides amazing insulation and I had a great night of sleep.   Our host bid us farewell on his way to work the next day while we rode off on our now finely tuned bicycles. 

With some serious riding the next day we were able to make it to the foot of the picturesque Rocky Mountains the next day.  Just as they had on my first visit to Colorado, those mountains took by breath away.  While the peaks and ridges themselves were imposing, their beauty, combined with the scent of pine and the cool de-humidified air took the sting out of some of the steep climbs we’d have to endure. 

Two days after crawling out of my refrigerator box we’d be at the base of Monarch Pass, a very long uphill climb that would take us up to the continental divide at an elevation of over 11,000.  In those two days the four of us cycled in Awe at the indescribable beauty of the mountains.  We had a chance to look over the edge of Royal Gorge and the tumultuous Arkansas River 1,200 feet below.  We took a side trip to Colorado Springs where we climbed the multi-hued pinnacles of Garden of the Gods Park.  It was also in Colorado Springs where we paid to sleep in a local campground.  It was the only night we paid for a place to sleep.  It seemed that every inch further west was filled one living postcard after another.

 When we reached the bottom of Monarch Pass each we all had an odd mix of eagerness and anxiety.  We were looking forward to see if we were up to the test of a grueling 11 mile continuous uphill but obviously there was a little self doubt as well.  After all, none of us were really bikers.  We began our climb up the arduous road as one but soon became spread out so that each one of essentially ended up biking alone with nothing but our own thoughts to urge us on. 

I don’t know how long it took us to complete those 11 uphill miles but I do remember it was difficult and painful, especially for John who had lost the use of his lower gears on his bike.  After we had all achieved the summit we began experiencing some amazing Karma.  First a young couple on a cross country camping trip invited us into their camper and prepared us a warm meal which was good because it had grown cold at the 11,000 foot elevation.  Then, before we finished a middle aged man approached us for some unknown reason and explained that he was in the process of building some rental cabins a short distance from the base on the other side of the mountain.  He gave us directions to his cabins just off the main road and told us to help ourselves to the any of the cabins to our liking. 

After properly re-fueling we saddled back up for the descent down the other side of Monarch Pass.   As long and tedious as the uphill side of the pass was, the downhill side was equally exhilarating.  The real perk was that the western slope of the pass was a little bit longer so we actually had over 12 miles in which we did not have to pedal at all.  We simply let gravity do its job and we soared down the other side of the mountain for the best 25 minutes of cycling ever.

As we neared the other side of Monarch Pass we practically coasted into the cabins that awaited us.  The climb up the Pass marked the pinnacle of our journey and we slept that night with the comfort of personal satisfaction.  When we awoke the next morning we were greeted by the cabin owner who brought us hot chocolate, juice and doughnuts.  All this for four complete strangers who had done no more than sought to take a hiatus from the real world. 

The next nights were met with the same good Karma that we experienced at the top of Monarch Pass.  In Montrose Colorado we hung out with locals at Patty’s Place bar where again another generous soul, Doug,  took on the role of host and treated us as visiting dignitaries. 

Outside the town of Cortez, Colorado we found ourselves at a local buffet for dinner.  An older couple overheard some of our conversation.  For some reason our innocent ramblings led them to approach us and insist on buying our dinners.  They explained that their son recently passed away and we reminded them of him.  That conversation was overheard by a local man, named Bill, who was an avid bicyclist who literally gave us the key to his house and told us that he had to go back to work for a few hours.  He said we should simply let ourselves in and make ourselves at home.  It was now becoming routine for us to experience unbelievable and incredible warmth by total strangers.  Of course we thanked all our benefactors profusely but really there was no way to express to people the gratitude we felt. 

Cortez was out last stop in Colorado.  We would soon be leaving the mountains and entering the stark splendor of the dessert but the beauty of the American people would remain a constant right up until we dipped our toes in the Pacific Ocean.