August 30, 2021

Colorado Springs, CO to Camping in Pike National Forest

We got up around 6:30, rested and ready to conquer the day’s ride. As I mentioned at the end of the last post, AJ and Zach made the case during our stay to avoid the highways out of town completely in lieu of some old mining roads. We decided we were up for the adventure and certainly down to avoid having to struggle up thousands of feet in elevation with little to no shoulder, blind curves, etc. We had only the faintest goal of getting up into the mountains and out of town, and assumed we’d figure the rest out on the go.

Everyone saw us off, which was really very nice. Emily, AJ, and Zach gave us their warmest farewell and off we went! It was really so nice to hang with them for a few days, and great to spend some time (mostly) off the bike around such nice people.

We made our way south to Cheyenne Canyon via the relatively extensive network of bicycle trails. Soon enough, we turned onto Cheyenne Boulevard/Road and started making our way up the canyon towards the head of this mining road. Immediately we were confronted with a road grade that to us Chicagoans was tantamount to riding up a wall. There was even a road sign warning cars of how steep the climb was – it wasn’t just in my head! I stopped for the first time on this trip in the cool air to bust out my asthma inhaler, huffing and puffing as I was. Alyssa had less issue with the climb up than I did, and beat me to the entrance to the road by a few minutes.

We made it though, and after gathering ourselves in the parking lot at the start of the trail, we set off onto Gold Camp Road. Gold Camp Road was apparently first a railroad track to the gold mining town of Cripple Creek called the Short Line, then it was a toll road, and then eventually a public road. In the 70s, the first of several tunnels completely collapsed, leaving the vast majority of the trail closed to motorized traffic. You can hike over the still-collapsed trail (or in our case, push a heavy bike up and over it) and continue on, unbothered by traffic or really anyone else for that matter. Loose and rocky but gently graded and relatively remote, it fell firmly into the “hey, it could definitely be worse” type riding we were really looking for.

We climbed and climbed at a hilariously slow pace on the unstable road (in our narrow road tires) for the better part of the day, stopping often to take in the ridiculously scenic views overlooking Colorado Springs and the high plains beyond the city that we’d just biked through. We used our water filter for the first time, perhaps unnecessarily, on an ice-cold mountain stream, and drank absolutely delicious fresh water from it. The plant life that accompanies the climb is almost Disney-fantasy quality; ripe raspberries, snowberries, and rose hips lined the road and forests alongside it for the entire ride. We were both having an absolute blast, and remarking to each other the whole way with incredulity how lucky we were to be able to be doing what we were doing. It was abso-lutely a day we will both remember forever. We couldn’t be more thankful for the recommendation.

For our road-oriented bikes, the going was pretty slow. We barely made it 25 miles before we’d climbed almost 4,000 feet. Eventually, our little section of Gold Camp Road met up with a US Forest Service road and we rejoined the world of motorized traffic – as well as generally better road conditions, if a little washboard-y. We really only saw one car every 20 minutes or less, so it certainly felt like we were alone up there most of the time despite having just left Colorado Springs.

After about 35 or 40 miles or so, we were both pretty pooped and looking for a place to camp. Right about then, we descended into one of if not the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. The road splits a parcel of private property in half, and rolls through a valley framed on all sides by rock formations so majestic no picture feels like it does them justice. The valley spreads out on either side of the road, with a marshy pond and grassland on one side reflecting the arching natural beauty above. As we rolled to a stop on this strip of road, both Alyssa and I were moved to tears, finding it difficult to believe that we just get to do this, let alone difficult to believe any place could be so beautiful. For what it’s worth, this spot is marked “Cathedral Park” in Cascade, CO on Google Maps, in case you want to look it up. Like I said, the pictures don’t do it justice, on Google or the ones we took – but you might get the idea.

We tried to find a way around the private property in order to spend the night in that very spot, but ended up backtracking a mile or so to camp in the preceding valley. Still insanely scenic, it ranks among the most beautiful places I’ve ever decided to plop down my tent. We rinsed our extremely dusty bodies in the ice-cold mountain stream behind our campsite, and then set to relaxing for the evening. We ate some leftover pizza and preprepared bacon avocado wraps made just for the occasion in the comfort of AJ’s kitchen the night before. After dinner, I relaxed with some lazy mandolin playing, and then drew the beautiful vista from my camp stool on my iPad as the sun set over the mountain ridge, before settling into bed.

August 31, 2021

Camping in Pike National Forest to Canon City, CO

We woke in the morning early – partially due to our routine, partially due to the fact that it had dropped just below freezing overnight and neither of us were mentally prepared for it (guess who’s never camped at 10,000 feet before?). We hurriedly layered clothes on, crunching on frost-covered grass as we packed up.

We’d decided the night before to take our time enjoying the scenery and spend some time in Cripple Creek – we were intrigued by the gold mine history and its whole aura of casinos, former brothels, etcetera. Plus, the elevation profile for the day had us descending something like 4000 feet, so we knew it’d be a bit easier than the day prior. So we took our time getting ready in the chilly morning air, before finishing the last handful of miles on Gold Camp Road, which were as stunningly beautiful and serene as the other 40.

As we approached Cripple Creek, we returned to regular old pavement, and much to our disappointment, we had to climb up another few hundred feet before arriving in town. Our reward for this additional climb, however, was a fantastic 12% grade descent into town. The view of the town from the top of the hill was pretty nuts, it felt like we were in a hot air balloon floating above the valley. The screaming descent into town was maybe the fastest I’ve ever gone on a bicycle, as I hit a very energizing 41 mph on the way down.

We flew into town and spent a moment trying to figure out where to get some breakfast. The first few places with promising signs out front were closed, so we stopped a pair of men in Cripple Creek Fire Department shirts and asked their assuredly expert opinion on the subject. They pointed us to the restaurant attached to one of the roughly 40 casinos lining Main Street, and after a quick chat about our trip and such, away we went.

Cripple Creek these days is sort of a shell of its former seedy self, based on what we learned and what we saw. It’s basically a corporatized casino playground – if it sounds like I’m a little cynical about it, that might be the 6 years working in the casino industry talking. The beautiful turn of the century buildings that line the downtown stretch have been hollowed out to connect to one another from the inside to make multiple-building-long casino floors. We entered one of these and headed upstairs to the restaurant for a sit-down breakfast.

In spite of my cynicism, we did have a nice breakfast. I had my second (my first being an amazing spot in Colorado Springs with Emily & AJ) breakfast burrito with green chili, which is apparently a Colorado/Southwest Thing. Alyssa had an omelette and a coffee, and we refilled our water bottles in preparation for the ride ahead. Before we got back on the road though, we decided to play a little slots to really ‘see the sights’ here in town. When in Rome!

It was fun to show Alyssa the ins and outs of the casino slot experience, having worked on video slot games for years. We intentionally did not play the games there that I worked on, in favor of trying to squeeze any wins whatsoever out of a crisp $10 bill. As anyone who has ever played slots knows, it’s basically impossible to make $10 do anything on the slots (betting small amounts generally will net you worse odds of winning than betting larger amounts). So after just a few games, Alyssa really got the full casino slot experience and ran out of the money we were willing to spend. True entertainment, to be sure! She at least got to pull the lever on a mechanical machine, which is a slightly fun retro experience these days.

Having had our fill on the slots, we headed around to some other downtown snack shops to try and get a little treat. Due to the tourist town factor, though, the prices were pretty steep, and we left empty handed, deciding instead to just get back on our bikes and get on with our day.

We headed south out of town and made our way to our second recommended road at the hands of AJ and Zach – Shelf Road. Shelf Road is apparently such a Thing it’s earned its own sign from the state, and it is immediately apparent why. After only a mile or two heading south on the relatively decent dirt road, it begins winding steeply through absolutely insane steep stone walls, following the winding of the creek that gives Cripple Creek its name.

The scenery became so mindblowingly beautiful that we were stopping probably every mile to just take it all in and stare at each other with incredulity. In addition to the fantastic, awe-inspiring scenery, the entire road was downhill at often a pretty good grade, so we were able to enjoy it without huffing and puffing. Between the downhill and the somewhat uneven terrain, my brakes were squealing with accumulated heat just trying to keep my speed to a safe level.

The road wound through beautiful canyons for miles before slowly unwinding into more open valley spaces. The bluffs rose higher and higher on our sides as we descended, too, and eventually we discovered why Shelf Road earned its name. As the road approaches its final descents, it takes its place as a small lip hanging on the sides of majestic rocky mesas, like a shelf hugging the side of the stone. It is difficult to choose which side of the ride was more beautiful – put another way, the entirety of this day and the previous day were both hands down the most scenic bike riding I’ve ever done in my life. We both tried our best to take pictures that really captured the size and majesty of it all, to try to remember it as best we could. It really felt special and truly unforgettable – thanks again for the recommendation if you’re reading this, AJ!

Shelf Road eventually spit us out onto the rolling descending plains approaching Canon City, having descended almost 5,000 feet. The scenery was decidedly ranchy, with wide plots of scrubby tan grassland unfolding in front of us. As we approached town, we stopped alongside a stream for a quick food break, and for Alyssa to take a quick dip to cool off – the temperature went up probably 20 degrees as we descended.

By the time we rolled into town, we had aspirations of stocking up, then camping somewhere 7 or 8 miles west of Canon City. We recalculated when we rolled into town and realized several things: 1) Alyssa was kind of deliriously dehydrated and tired, 2) It was a thousand foot climb or something out of town to get to the campground, and 3) there was a motel we could get a deal on with our Google membership that had the all important continental breakfast.

So instead of camping, we gathered this intel at the McDonald’s on the way into town before heading through downtown Canon City to our cheap motel. We got all checked in (which took forever because their key assigning machine was on the fritz) and settled before heading back downtown for a route planning session at a local brewpub. We got dinner – fish & chips for me, 2 Chicago-style hot dogs (yes, really, this far away – they did a pretty decent job!) for Alyssa.

Our route planned for the next few days, we putzed around downtown Canon City for a little while before heading back towards the motel. Just before the motel there was an ice cream and candy shop that seemed excellent so of course, me being me, we had to stop in. We got a truffle each, and I got a mix of praline and chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. It was exactly as delicious as it sounds.

We spent the rest of the night unwinding in the motel after some unbelievable but tiring riding over the last two days. It was very nice to properly bathe after all that hard work climbing and descending! I dozed off while collecting pictures from my camera of the experience.

September 1, 2021

Canon City, CO to Salida, CO

We woke early to make sure we could have all our ducks in a row in time for the opening of the continental breakfast. We scarfed down some waffles, Raisin Bran, and apples, and set on our way.

Alyssa was faster out of the motel than I was, of course, and left about 5 minutes before me. Just as I was wheeling my bike out the door, she texted me that she was literally across the street with a flat tire. I checked out and sure enough, there she was on the parking lot curb next door. The puncture was tiny – too small to find without help, so she popped back over to the motel to hold the tube under some water in the sink to find the hole.

That worked just as planned, and soon enough she had her patch on and we were on our way, just a few minutes behind schedule.

Starting this morning, we hopped on the highway that would take us most of the way across the state, Highway 50. This is the only section of our intended route that lines up with what are known in the bicycle touring community as the ACA maps – maps designed and maintained by the Adventure Cycling Association specifically made to be helpful for what we’re doing. They vet routes for traffic, resources, good shoulders, scenic views, the whole lot. We were a little bit looking forward to seeing what the ACA would have us do across Colorado.

We climbed out of Canon City over the first handful of miles, somewhat steeply. The entire day would be a good climb as we moved closer and closer to the Continental Divide, but nonetheless we’d planned about 60 miles to Salida, a straight shot down Highway 50.

We made good progress in the morning and we were both in high spirits after the preceding couple days. The scenery really got going after we climbed out of Canon City and the Highway ran alongside the wide and fast Arkansas River through scenic canyons. It was definitely pretty to look at, and would probably have blown us away had we not just spent the last two days having our realities shifted. We cruised at a good clip for most of the day, stopping a few times to take in the sights – Alyssa hopped in the river for a swim at a slower section, and I stopped at a family restaurant for a GIANT serving of huckleberry ice cream.

As we approached Salida, I passed Alyssa, which usually indicates that we are going uphill. Sure enough, the grade got a little harder and the road got a little more winding. On the approach into town, I pulled over on the side of the road to find a place to meet Alyssa, when she pulled up on me in a rightful huff with her second nearly flat tire of the day. She was pissed at how hard the riding had been in the last 15 miles due to the slow leak and was firmly over it. Even aside from the new flat, the riding on Highway 50 had gotten kind of hairy as the day went on – blind curves, disappearing shoulder, older folks in RVs passing uncomfortably close, et cetera.

We’d arranged for a kind of strange Warmshowers host for the evening – this person was actually out of town on a camping trip with her daughter, but told us that her house was open and to just let ourselves in and make ourselves at home. Incredibly nice, and incredibly trusting – we both really appreciated having the space to roam. Sure enough, we pulled up to the house and let ourselves in.

Alyssa and I had a bit of an argument probably precipitated by the frustration of the second flat of the day as we approached the house, and after we rolled up I took my leave to give her some space and to try and take care of some things in town – getting new tubes, getting some food, getting some sunscreen, etc. I took my bags off my bike and rode down a nice bike path towards downtown.

Downtown Salida is another town where the entire downtown is on the National Register of Historic Places, because of the preservation of its original structures. It’s pretty neat, if a little touristy, and has a lot going on for a town of its size. I stopped for a sandwich at a local sandwich spot before running the errands I needed to run. I grabbed some tubes (with sealant to help with any pinhole-sized punctures next time) for Alyssa from a bike shop, and got to talking with the guy there about our trip. He was full of suggestions for our route heading west, and seemed to have a lot of Colorado-native expertise on the subject for sure.

Tubes acquired, I headed back across town to the Walmart to grab sunscreen before heading back to the house to meet up with Alyssa for dinner.

We decided on a local pizza spot for dinner and made our way back downtown. It was a nice spot with somewhat fancy pizza, and we had a pizza, salad, beer, and whiskey between the two of us. While we ate, it began to rain, and after dinner we had the displeasure of riding in the absolutely freezing wet of Colorado rain. We popped over to the Safeway to get a few things for a camp dinner in the next few days, then headed back to the house.

September 2, 2021

Salida, CO to Wild camp just off Monarch Pass

We woke in the morning still in kind of a funk but otherwise prepared for one of the more momentous days of our trip thus far – crossing the Continental Divide. Something of a hallmark for all cross-country bicycling adventurers, I’d been passively anticipating this day ever since we hit the Colorado border and we began our stiff climb in earnest.

Alyssa got on the road maybe 5 minutes before I did, and after leaving our host’s house (still completely without meeting her – such a nice thing to do, I’m so appreciative) I had the impulse to grab a warm beverage to start the day off right. I texted Alyssa that I was headed to a coffee shop and she met me there. We enjoyed our drinks – decaf cortado for me, latte for Alyssa – and got back on the road ready to tackle the climb.

Our route for the day continued along Highway 50 for its entirety. Literally. We didn’t make a single turn all day. The climb out of Salida was very beautiful, with the blue mountains towering over us on all sides. The grade began gently – the sort of hill where you sort of forget you’re going uphill. But eventually we closed in on the pass we’d be crossing, and the road pitched upwards to take us there.

Monarch Pass was our chosen crossing point, at 11,312 feet. It’s a hair lower than some other nearby options, but would still represent the peak elevation we’d reach in the United States.

Highway 50 wore thin on both Alyssa and I as we climbed. It turns out that all the factors from yesterday remained true; disappearing shoulders, copious traffic, scary RVs… except now we were working as hard as we could to go 5-7 miles per hour. We were both sort of dumbfounded as to why the ACA would select this as its ‘main’ route through this section of the state, but I’m no expert on the matter.

We climbed and climbed and climbed all morning. Just after we passed the sign entering the National Forest, I noticed that my pedaling was resulting in a much-bouncier-than-normal gait on my bike, and sure enough it was MY turn to get a flat tire. Current score – Kevin: 2 (3 if you count the faulty tube in Illinois), Alyssa: 2, for a total of 4-ish.

Alyssa hung around to make sure I had everything I needed before setting back on her way to keep the momentum heading upwards. I worked to fix my flat, and pretty speedily got my tube patched from the tiny wire that had snuck through. But, sure enough, when I reinflated it, it had the same valve failure that my backup tube had previously in Illinois. Turns out the hole in my rim for the valve was slightly sharp, and if the valve wasn’t metal all the way down, it was super easy to create a hole right there at the valve base. I swore into the Labor Day weekend traffic and ripped the tube out of the tire. Thankfully, AJ had given me a spare back in Colorado Springs that had a metal valve, so I put that one to work and inflated it just fine.

Back on my way, I set to work catching up with Alyssa. By this point we were pretty high up – high enough that the scenery had changed, with cooler temperatures, moody clouds, and large evergreen trees looming over the road. We rode past a hotel that looked like it could stand in for the hotel in the Shining, and Alyssa would later tell me she had stopped in to fill her water bottles and no one was there; she walked behind the bar and filled her bottles herself. Big Stanley Kubrick Energy.

Our tentative plan for the day had us camping just below the summit on the near side, and then crossing in the morning. When we pulled up to the turnoff for the campground, we realized that A) it was a lot more fun to just cross today, and B) the campground was a couple hundred feet of elevation down that we’d need to double back on in the morning. No thanks.

We hustled the last 3 miles or so up to the summit and as we rolled up to the top, I threw on the Band’s “Across the Great Divide” for the second musical allusion to the Band of the week – the first being “Up on Cripple Creek”, of course. We arrived at the summit and whooped and hollered in celebration in the thin air. Alyssa more or less immediately needed to use the mountaintop cell service to call in to her therapy session, so I spent 45 minutes or so sending celebratory text messages and scoping out the convenience store and gift shop at the top.

Alyssa’s call over, we grabbed some food inside – butterfinger fudge, a couple hot dogs, some snacks, and a hot chocolate (it was like 55 degrees up there and windy! It was helpful). Our plan shifted towards heading down the pass with an eye out for any area that might have a flat spot to pitch our tent for the night.

We took some more celebratory pics at the official sign at the summit, and then began our descent. After only a few bends, at the first real dirt turnoff, we turned into the forest and found a handful of dispersed camping sites already set up and cleared. Perfect! We celebrated our easy fortunes and set up camp.

We took a stroll around our new environs for about half an hour, exploring the woods nearby. I took a bunch of pictures of plants I’d never seen before in order to identify and catalog them later (Parry’s Gentian was my favorite find of the bunch – I’d never have gotten to see it had I not climbed the pass, as it’s generally only found in higher elevations in the Rockies. So fun!). Back at the campsite, Alyssa put together an absolutely delicious no-cook dinner – seasoned chickpeas, precooked brown rice, tomato, avocado, cheese, lemon. Hers had sardines, too, but I skipped them. We enjoyed our extremely scenic 2-and-change-mile-high dinner, and then spent the rest of the evening relaxing – Alyssa read and journaled, I tried and failed to start a fire with wet wood before giving up and relaxing in the tent as well.

September 3, 2021

Wild camp just off Monarch Pass to Curecanti National Recreation Area

We woke in the very brisk morning and broke down our tent as the sun came up on the mountain. We both donned some warm combination of clothing for the frosty descent – a 7 mile or so bullet train to the valley below. We knew that we’d have a day of mostly descending ahead of us, so we planned for about 60 miles to Curecanti National Recreation Area, just west of Gunnison.

The descent was a blast, of course. It was not quite the same tear-inducing speed as the descent into Cripple Creek thanks to the gentler grade, but after the climb up the day before it was great to go 34 mph without pedaling for a while. We hurtled down the mountain and arrived in the little place of Sargents at the base of the other side, where we popped into the convenience store there.

Outside the convenience store, we ran into a man from New York who was riding the Divide, a trail that more or less follows the Continental Divide ridge line through the mountains down the entire range. He had a serious business e-bike mountain setup and chatted with us about our respective plans for a few minutes before we took our leave.

Inside, we got a fresh cookie and a hot chocolate and coffee for me and Alyssa respectively. We sat at the attached bar in this convenience store to warm up and wake up a bit. Morning ritual complete, we headed back out to our bikes. As we were getting ready to head out, we saw another couple on touring bikes behind the store, and went over to say hello.

Hamza and Rachel were the first people we’d met on this trip who were trying to do something similar to what we’re trying to do – they are French, and had flown to the US with the intent to bike all the way to Argentina. We swapped notes and shared contact info, and generally just enjoyed meeting some kindred spirits. They were both very nice and hopefully are almost to Mexico by now!

Socializing done, we got back on the bikes and tried to make some more efficient riding time to Gunnison, where we planned to stop for lunch. The elevation profile looked entirely downhill, but was really mostly downhill averaged over rolling hills – so still the occasional climb, which was annoying. Still, we generally made good time and were much speedier about the mileage than the day prior, making it to Gunnison by about 11. Alyssa wrapped up a phone call with her Mom from the bike just as she rolled into town, just a few minutes before me.

Gunnison is a college town I guess and it was immediately apparent after spending weeks in the Heartland of America where frankly the average age is pretty high. Seeing a bunch of young people walking around threw me for a loop, and the downtown stretch in Gunnison definitely has college town vibes. We stopped into a cool looking brunch spot and ordered a quantity of food that made our server say, “Just want to let you know, it’s a lot of food. You’re cool with that?” Oh yeah, you know I’m cool with that.

I slammed my green chili skillet and pancakes in about 30 seconds flat, and housed a handful of cups of decaf to boot. Alyssa got another omelette – prompting a discussion about whether a skillet or and omelette was the best dollars to food ratio you can get on the average breakfast menu. The jury’s still out, I think.

We figured we should do some planning and email responding while we were in a town with internet, and so we hopped down the street to the nearby coffee shop to get that done. Our itinerary clarified and our messages replied to, we hustled on down the road to our destination for the day.

Curecanti is a National Recreation Area that basically encompasses the entire Blue Mesa Reservoir and Gunnison River up to and including the base of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison – a pretty neat National Park in its own right. Since it follows the Gunnison River down to its dam and corresponding reservoir, it meant riding down into the canyon. As we’d later have explained to us, the reservoir is something of a geographical and meteorological oddity, and though we expected an easy, coasting descent into the beautiful river gorge, as we dropped into the canyon we were blasted with a 25 mph headwind that had hitherto not existed on our ride.

The last 15 miles were honestly infuriating riding, with Labor Day weekend traffic roaring by and a headwind that was all but stopping us completely. We arrived at the first full service campground and I was brewing a bad mood. I stopped to ask the friendly guy at the station where they check boats for zebra mussels about some general area info – where to camp, what routes to take, etc. He passed me a map of the area and pointed out some good spots, including the coin op showers just down the hill.

I’d really been looking forward to a shower. It’d been 2 days, and although that’s not that bad I was feeling pretty gross after climbing the mountain. I got everything all set to get in the shower, only to find that it was $4 in quarters to take a 10 minute shower. This definitely popped my balloon and I was immediately sour about it. I stubbornly refused to pay that much for a shower (we didn’t even have that many quarters anyway) and after some hemming and hawing also more or less refused riding any further down the road. I was done, and we were staying.

We paid the also-too-steep-in-my-opinion $16 for a campsite with absolutely no shade whatsoever and set up the tent in a huff. I could tell I was making the situation worse with my mood so I took a minute to take a walk and try to calm down.

The campground and local environs were absolutely beautiful, with dramatic mesas surrounding the reservoir on all sides. The area gets less than 12 inches of rain per year on average, so there are basically no trees at all nearby, which contributes mightily to the feeling like the landscape is unplaceably alien and especially big.

I sat for a few minutes down by the water (kind of, the water level is dangerously low this year so as close to the water as I could get without climbing) and gathered myself before heading back to camp. Alyssa was working out, and after some kind of terse conversation we more or less did our own things for the rest of the evening. I made myself a “fridge clearing” meal of tortillas with cookie butter and almonds (Real Food TM), watched the sunset with Alyssa by the water, and then got in bed, ready to shed the bad vibes and start again tomorrow.

As we laid in the tent, we realized some bummer news that did not really help the vibe, however. Alyssa had forgotten something back in Gunnison, and we’d need to backtrack 15 miles to get it the following day. We resolved to meet up later, since we’d had a couple days of bad mood riding this week and were aiming for alone time – Alyssa would ride back to Gunnison, and I’d break down camp, move down the road a little ways, and re-set up, putting us a little bit farther along our route without putting Alyssa out too much more than she already was.

September 4, 2021

Curecanti National Recreation Area to… still Curecanti National Recreation Area

By the time I woke up in the morning, Alyssa was already gone. She’d shed her bags to make the ride easier, leaving them on the picnic table for me to entrust to someone for her to gather them from later. I took the opportunity to sleep in – for me, it’d only be a 12 mile day, hopping to the next campground that wasn’t too far out of the way. I rolled out of the tent at around 8, and broke everything down and was ready to leave by about 9.

After being rebuffed by the folks at the visitor’s center (“Yeah… we aren’t in the business of watching your gear, really…”) I left Alyssa’s bags with the extremely nice and excitable people at the boat check station, telling them to look for a short lady who looked crazy like me.

That settled, I took my sweet time rolling just 12 miles down the road to the next campsite on the other side of the reservoir. Not only was this putting us 12 miles closer to our next intermediate destination of Montrose, CO, but it also allowed us to navigate a difficult stretch of road as early as possible. We’d been warned in Salida and again in Gunnison about construction on Highway 50 through a narrow pass, where the road was closed completely about 75% of the time and required a 100+ mile detour to circumvent. Getting up early allowed us to thread the needle and do it at a time when the traffic would be as low as possible (on Labor Day weekend, at that).

I got to the new campsite, set up the tent, and relaxed for a bit playing mandolin in the increasingly hot sunshine while I waited for Alyssa to rejoin me. After a few hours, I moved to the front of the park to make sure she couldn’t miss it, and about 10 minutes after I did that she rolled down the driveway into the campsite. We had a lunch/snack and then resolved to try to go swimming to ‘rinse off’ in the reservoir.

When we walked down (allllll the way down…) to the water’s edge in the critically-low reservoir, we realized immediately that swimming was not in the cards. The water had receded well below the typical shoreline where aquatic plants helped stabilize the soil, and the soil had basically liquefied in the last 10 feet approaching the water’s edge. Alyssa immediately sunk in up to her knees in sandy clay, and we called it immediately.

The showers here were cheaper than at the site the day before, so she had enough quarters on hand to take 1 shower. I insisted she use it, still too stubborn to commit to spending that money myself. I washed up in the bathroom sink (surprisingly effectively, honestly) and we were both somewhat cleaned up.

Back at the campsite, Alyssa found a shady spot to relax, and spent the afternoon drawing and listening to Chet Atkins on loop for sustained Good Vibes. Meanwhile, I sat up on the ridge at our campsite overlooking the Lake Fork Dam of the Gunnison River, painting my own view as well. We didn’t coordinate, it just shook out that we both drew the same view, which was fun to compare afterwards.

When I was finished with my painting I joined Alyssa in the shade and turned out a quick and loose, colorful drawing of a slightly different angle of the dam, completing our survey of the scenery.

After whiling the hottest hours away drawing and painting, I got to work cooking dinner. Alyssa had picked up some fresh vegetables on her return to Gunnison in the morning and I whipped up a yellow curry with zucchini, onion, and red bell pepper over rice. It was a little out of season for the temperature in the sunshine, but it was very delicious feel-good food.

We watched the sun set over the bluff we’d both just rendered onto paper, and enjoyed the instant relief from the sun it brought. The views around the reservoir are truly dramatic, and as the sun silhouetted the jagged horizon we both captured the moment – both in our memories, and with our cameras.

September 5, 2021

Curecanti National Recreation Area to Montrose, CO

We “slept in” until about 6:30, and efficiently broke down camp and got on the road by about a quarter after 7. The agenda for the day had us pulling a medium length, medium climb day out of the canyon and then down into Montrose.

I’d reached out to a couple on Warmshowers for the night, so we had a target set. We made slow work of the ascent towards the construction, and by the time we got there we were both already hot and tired. The lack of real, actual rest days was catching up with us.

The construction itself was not as bad as anticipated – Labor Day weekend had ensured that the work was called off for the entire weekend, opening the road to 2-way traffic. There were only a couple stretches that required us to take the lane and hold folks up, and not really even due to those stretches being sharp downhill sections. The speed limit was 35 and that’s what we were doing!

After the construction we began the somewhat under-researched real work of the day climbing to the top of the Cerro Summit, separating the watersheds of the Cimarron and Uncompahgre rivers. We didn’t really grok that we’d be climbing a pass this day, so it was difficult work both physically and mentally – especially the false top about 75% of the way through the climb, which I dealt with by yelling obscenities into traffic.

I beat Alyssa to the top and texted her some encouragement from the cell signal I returned to now that I had clear eyes on Montrose, before beginning my descent into the city. The descent was everything I wanted it to be – unbroken and smooth, all the way into Montrose proper. By the time we were entering the city, Alyssa caught up with me (always faster on the downhills, always!) and we resolved to stop into some local place to do some planning for the next couple days.

When we got settled in to Horsefly Brewing in Montrose, it was pretty immediately apparent that we were both totally toast from the riding since we’d left Colorado Springs – especially Alyssa, who hadn’t enjoyed the same 12-mile day that I had the day prior. We made the call to pivot, and instead of staying with our kind-seeming Warmshowers hosts to get a motel to have some private luxury for an evening, but after a bunch of hemming and hawing and calling around, we realized that WHOOPS it’s actually the Sunday of Labor Day weekend, and only the most expensive place in town had any vacancy whatsoever. Deflated and tired, we rolled with plan A, and coasted downhill to our pre-arranged Warmshowers host.

Rod and Judy were our hosts for the evening, and they, like all Warmshowers hosts we’d had so far, knew that immediately tending to our basic human needs was direly in order (I hadn’t showered properly since Salida, at this point). They guided us to their adorable guest room and showed us the shower and laundry, and we got started in on both.

Rod and Judy are an adorable semi-retired couple who, after tandem canoeing together for 20-something years, moved on land as they got older and got into tandem bicycle touring. Rod had been an International Harvester and Subaru mechanic for many years, but was now filling his time building and supporting technical systems for the church they attend. Judy had raised a family and a hay and barley farm near the Black Canyon of the Gunnison before meeting and marrying Rod.

Alyssa was toast, so I tried my best to let her have the guest room to recuperate and exist in solitude for an hour or two. Meanwhile, I chatted with Rod and Judy and the three of us prepared dinner – roast turkey breast, cauliflower & broccoli, brown rice, and salad. As dinner was approaching completion, Rod took a few minutes to gather his maps of Western Colorado and Eastern Utah to give us some extremely useful route suggestions – he had just completed a solo tour from Montrose to Monticello, UT about 2 weeks prior, so he had some very recent and key intel about the locations of water, what climbs were hard, what roads were best, and more. He ameliorated our route plan for roughly the next week, so much thanks to him.

After dinner, we chatted for several hours over a shared bottle of wine about the local area, how it changed over the years, state politics, and Rod & Judy’s personal histories. Round about 8:30, they let us retire to the bedroom to relax and get ready for bed.

While we relaxed, we made the call that it was direly time for a rest day – a real one. I snagged a reservation at the nicest-looking motel in town for cheap, even though they said they were booked solid over the phone. Insider knowledge when you’ve designed a hotel booking app for work before – most hotels hold back some rooms for special reservation methods. At the casino, it was rooms held specifically for offering comps to players, but in this case I figured “hey they probably have some held back for online booking”. Success!

September 6, 2021

Rest day in Montrose, CO

We got moving slowly in the morning, really setting the tone right for a rest day. We rolled out of bed around 8 and got our things in order, saying our goodbyes to Rod & Judy before setting off to do some shopping in preparation for the next few days between services and also to kill time until check-in at our motel.

We rode across town to the Walmart (not before stopping in at a very enticing donut shop, which was amazing – Montrose Deli & Donuts you’re the best) and stocked up on food, and Alyssa got herself some hair dye to do some personal care in the safety of the motel. Mission accomplished, we rode back to the other side of town to check in to our motel.

When we rolled up, the clerk at the desk said there were no clean rooms yet, but then checked with the staff for us and discovered that they’d finished exactly one room, which she offered to us right away. We accepted this kindness, and wheeled our stuff into Room 101.

While at the Walmart, we’d seen that there was the greatest of all possible amenities here in Montrose – our favorite fast food restaurant, a Culver’s. I dropped my things off at the room, told Alyssa to stay put and chill in the AC, and went back across town to grab lunch.

Culver’s in hand, I returned and we had a rest day feast. We hadn’t indulged in Culver’s a single time on this trip, even as they became harder to find the farther west we went. It was definitely time for a butterburger and curds, I tell you what.

We then took a truly restful rest day – we took dips in the pool and hot tub and back to the pool again, we iced aching knees, Alyssa dyed her hair and I gave myself a haircut, and we spent the evening watching Will Ferrell movies in some type of marathon on MTV of all places. We made ourselves a dinner of those parcooked ravioli in the motel room microwave, which was delicious. It was very relaxing, and really well earned I think.

September 7, 2021

Montrose, CO to Uncompahgre National Forest

We got up in the morning, rested and ready for what we knew was going to be a bit of a toughie. Our plan was to head straight across the Uncompahgre Plateau towards the town of Naturita, CO, in a 2-day jaunt. The highways all circumvent the Plateau altogether, and even though they’re only about 55 miles apart as the crow flies, it’s about an hour and 40 minutes by car each way. This is foreshadowing, by the way.

We made quick work of getting out of town, even including another pitstop at Montrose Deli & Donuts to get a half-dozen donuts to assist in easing the difficulty of our climb. As we hit the edge of town, we joined up with State and then County Highway 90, which zigzags west and south as it turns into a dirt National Forest Service Road that climbs steeply up onto the Plateau.

We spent the entire day climbing in what became a very hot day. It was steep, the grade occasionally hitting “I need to stand up in order to pedal properly” percentages, and we made very slow work of the ride.

Near the top, I realized I hadn’t seen Alyssa for about 45 minutes and stopped under a shade tree to wait for her. She caught up with me and was bent out of shape, worried about being so far apart in an area with no accessible potable water and some abundance of wild animals (certainly an abundance of posted warnings about them – Be Bear Aware!). We resolved to ride together for the rest of the afternoon while we split the remaining donuts from the morning.

As we approached the summit of the plateau (and our campsite inside the National Forest) we realized that we kind of had a water situation on our hands. Not dire yet, but we were definitely lower than we’d like. We ignored a few No Trespassing signs to go ask the last house on private land if they had any water they could spare. They were extremely nice, letting us fill up from their spring tap with ice cold fresh water.

Our reserves replenished and our day almost done, we powered up and up onto the Plateau. A couple short breaks to explore the forest on food to break up the hard riding, we eventually arrived at the free campground.

It was extremely scenic up on the Plateau – the drop into Montrose two days prior had seen the scenery really change and get ‘deserty’, with sand dunes and spare rocky outcropping. But after climbing 4,200 feet up, we were surrounded by ancient-seeming firs and pines stretching way overhead.

We set up camp, sharing the entire campground with just one guy doing the #vanlife thing out of a short school bus. It was both beautiful and extremely quiet, a great combo if there ever was one.

We were both extremely tired after the day’s riding, and both of us sort of willed ourselves to do things we wanted to do; Alyssa got to writing and journaling for a while, while I grabbed my folding stool and found a scenic view to paint. I sat in the tall grass and painted a small section of the winding road that brought us to camp that afternoon, hidden amongst the wealth of tree cover.

Our goals achieved, we made a dinner with some of our restocked water supply – box mac ‘n’ cheese! We doctored it up a little with extra seasoning and cheese, plus it was the Nice Stuff and not Kraft. It was absolutely delicious and very spot hitting after a day of hard, sweltering climbing.

Alyssa went back to chilling in the tent after dinner, and I played mandolin for a while, trying to remember a few songs that I know on guitar. It’s hard – muscle memory does the remembering for me on guitar, but on mandolin all the chord shapes are different so it’s hard to ‘half-know’ a song and stumble through it the way I can on guitar. Still, it was fun to relax and try to remember some songs to widen my mandolin repertoire.

As I was relaxing at the picnic table, my peripheral vision picked up movement in the distance. I saw a huge brown animal of some sort lumbering amidst the trees where I was just sitting to paint. I immediately stood up to get a better look and reached for the mace we’ve carried with us this far before realizing it was actually just a herd of free range cows just sort of doing their thing up here. They walked right through the campground, dodging the cattle guard on the road by surprisingly nimbly jumping over the fence that encloses the campground. We both found it hilarious, maybe because we were so tired, but I also still think it’s kind of funny that a herd of cows just waltzed through our campsite.

Our entertainment for the evening walked away, and as the sun went down we retired to the warmth of the tent in preparation for a chilly night at about 9,000 feet.

September 8, 2021

Uncompahgre National Forest to Nucla, CO

After a difficult climb, we were ready for the descent we knew we were in for the following morning. We broke down camp and got on the road by about 8, enjoying a slow morning anticipating a downhill day.

The morning’s ride atop the Uncompahgre Plateau was wonderful, with huge vistas and bends in the road that gave you the impression that you were riding on a forested road inside a cloud. The road eventually began its descent towards Naturita and I was having an absolute blast. The road was alright, first hard-pack dirt and then loose gravel, but I didn’t care either way. The scenery was so lovely I was in a great mood, just thrilled to be riding that morning.

We descended off the Plateau and were aiming to make a pitstop about 30 miles into the day in Naturita for lunch. The scenery changed back from tall, majestic tree cover to red rocks covered with piñon and sagebrush, and we arrived back in the landscape we saw in Montrose.

The road had a little bit of up-and-down as we approached the turn towards Naturita, and as we climbed the last hill before turning right on Highway 141, I heard Alyssa call out my name from behind me. I stopped, turning around to make sure she was okay, and assumed she wanted me to wait for her to catch up. About 10 seconds later, a tremendous BANG rang out, echoing in the river canyon we were ascending. I coasted back down the hill to meet her, and much to our collective disappointment, Alyssa had had a catastrophic tire failure. Not even just a tube failure or a flat, her entire tire had failed, and the tube forcing its way through the thin tire had created a rupture, which exploded dramatically, leaving a hole about the size of a silver dollar in her tire.

This was, as they say in the bike biz, A Bummer. We did not carry a spare tire, or a tire boot, which may not have even helped anyway as the hole was so large. I knew there was no bike shop in Naturita or really anywhere ahead of us until Moab, but we quickly decided that I’d ride on ahead towards town in order to get cell service and try to call the nearest bike shops.

I left Alyssa on the side of Highway 90 and climbed out onto Highway 141. I stopped at the first turnout on the descent into Naturita and began calling every listing on Google that even seemed like it MIGHT have a tire she could use. The closest bike shop I was able to get ahold of was all the way back in Montrose – an hour an 40 minutes one way by car from where we currently sat. They told me they’d love to help but that it was a little too far for them to be able to get away, understandably, and just as I received that news a Land Rover rolled up next to me carrying Alyssa and her busted steed.

So arrived the absolute saviors of the day, Robin and Nigel. Robin and Nigel seemed about our age and extremely nice, and lived nearby in the town of Nucla. They were on their way to Montrose anyway when they saw Alyssa lamenting her condition on the side of the road. They swept her up and together we built a plan – they’d take Alyssa and her bike and my non-essential bags to the Walmart in Montrose, where Alyssa could get a new tire and they could run their errands. Meanwhile, I’d hunker down in Naturita and try to figure out some of the finer points of how this unfortunate occurrence would affect our upcoming route plans, and they’d meet back up with me in about 4 hours.

I was and still am blown away by this act of kindness, and it was only the first of many they’d offer as the day went on.

Several bags lighter, I rode down into Naturita and grabbed lunch at the restaurant in town, Blondie’s, a diner that definitely cured whatever ailed me that morning. I looked at the map a bit while I ate, and then called my mom from the front porch of the restaurant – it was her birthday, after all! Hi Mom! We talked for a while, and while we chatted I walked up to the post office to mail a few postcards I’d been carrying for too long. It was lovely to catch up and good to hear my parents’ voices and hear about how things were back home.

After our call, I moved to the (extremely super nice) Naturita Library to use their WiFi to plan a response to the day’s events. I put together a plan that would get us to Moab in 2 days with reasonable division of effort, and then went across the street to get some food to bring with us over the next couple days.

The rest of the moving parts of the day’s plan went off without a hitch – Alyssa rode with Robin and Nigel to Montrose, and she was able to get her replacement tire and tube. It wasn’t anything special, but it would serve as a good backup after she was able to get to Moab where there were new tires she’d ordered ahead waiting for her anyway. In the hot mid-afternoon, they rolled up to the library and found me making a list of possible locations for water between here and Moab.

We unloaded their car and Alyssa changed her tire. During their trip, they’d extended an invitation to stay at their house up the hill in the town of Nucla. Our question of where we were going to sleep that night answered, much to our gratitude, they left us to drive home. Alyssa had not eaten all day amidst all the ‘excitement’ and I showed her to the front door of Blondie’s for dinner while I hopped around town getting some last minute supplies.

I rejoined Alyssa mid-burger and got Blondie’s myself for the second time that day, which I found just as delicious and satisfying as the first. We made a few quick phone calls after dinner, once again from the front porch of the restaurant, to check on the status of Alyssa’s tires in Moab among other things. That business attended to, we started the ride the couple miles up the hill towards Nucla and towards Robin and Nigel’s house.

Robin and Nigel had a story I found extremely motivating. They’d met in Nebraska, and wanted to leave Nebraska, as one does. They posted on Facebook taking suggestions for places to go, and a friend of theirs that lived in Nucla suggested coming out to the town. They did, and were immediately dropped into an unfortunate situation that resulted in them living in a tent for a while, then in an RV, and eventually getting on their feet into the beautifully appointed house they currently occupied. They both seemed like extremely hardworking and goal oriented people, but were also supremely empathetic, kind, and generous.

We arrived at their house and they told us we could sleep in their spare room, offered us their washer and dryer, had used their fancy water filter to filter liters and liters of water for our water bottles, and had already set out washcloths and towels for us to shower with. They both offered us every kindness you could possibly imagine, and stuffed our food bags full of snacks (even sugar-free ones Alyssa could get down with). They could not have been more welcoming, and it 100% absolutely turned our day around. Without the two of them, it would have been a capital B Bad Day and instead we got all of our needs accounted for and had an extension of generosity neither of us will ever forget. Plus, they had a wealth of pets that were also something like an official welcoming committee – 2 dogs and 4 cats, all of which were adorable, sociable, and nice.

We showered, got our laundry going, and chatted with them all evening. Alyssa took her leave to go to bed early after a very tiring day, and I hung out with the two of them the rest of the evening while I finished the laundry and prepared wraps to eat the following day. It was not only kind, but so comforting to have basically all of our needs accounted for, and we both remain so thankful for their impact on our day. Let alone the fact that they were both very cool people and super easy to hang out with.

All our ducks in a row to get back on the road the following morning, I said goodnight and retired to bed myself – indoors, even, what luxury!

September 9, 2021

Nucla, CO to Bedrock, CO

Robin and Nigel work several hours away cleaning houses in Telluride, and so they get up and leave bright and early in the morning. That meshed just fine with our schedule, and all four of us were up and about by 6. We got all our bags on our bikes, saw Robin off to work, and then said our goodbyes to Nigel and the pets. I’m still in awe of their generosity, and I can’t say enough nice things about them as people. If you read this, thank you both!

We hopped up the road into downtown Nucla for a pre-ride coffee and moment of relaxation, then grabbed a Gatorade and a bottle of extra water from the store across the street. All systems go, we headed out for a short, hopefully easy day into the Paradox Valley and the tiny town of Bedrock, CO.

The riding was, in fact, pretty easy. Downhill back into Naturita, and then a small climb out again before coasting down a pretty consistent 4-6% grade all the way to our destination. The scenery was, again, stunning. Naturita sits amidst rocky bluffs near a river, and biking out of the river valley revealed the stunning beauty of Paradox Valley – seriously, Google image search that phrase, it is really stunning.

As we flew down Highway 90 towards Bedrock at the far end of the valley, we ran into another touring cyclist heading the other way. We stopped and had a nice chat with Christian, who had been on the road since April visiting as many National Parks as he could, including every single one in Utah. We compared notes for a while and then headed on our separate ways.

We flew into Bedrock, finishing our 30-ish mile day before 11 AM. We had set a destination for the day of the Bedrock Store, sort of the only Thing along the road in this section of Colorado. We’d heard from Rod that it was nice, if it was open – and then heard the same from Nigel the night before. We rolled up and it did look nice, but it was not open. We hung out in the shade of the building and had a snack, then headed a half mile up the road to the post office, hoping they had a bathroom to use – they did not, but they did have a porta potty that they unlocked for us.

When we made our way back to the store, however, there was a small crowd on motorcycles gathered out front, and the door was indeed open now. Enter possibly my favorite character we’ve met so far on this trip, Pie.

Anthony Pisano, aka Pie or Mr. Pie, is a “retired” Brooklynite with enough personality to fill any room and enough grace to know when to share the spotlight. It struck me as if a character from Goodfellas went on the lam and ended up in the middle of nowhere in Colorado, and decided to stay and buy a ranch and 140-year-old general store.

He carried any conversation with the air of a great stand-up comedian, and he captured not just our attention but the group of motorcyclists out front too (who happened to be from Kankakee and Peoria. Hello fellow Illinoisans!). He was a great entertainer, but also had an infectious air of kindness and empathy. He was truly, genuinely excited to hear about our trip, exclaiming at the top of his lungs, “FUCK yeah, ROCK ON!”. Alyssa, sensing she had the perfect subject for an interview on her hands, asked him if he would be interested, and he replied, “FUCK yeah, that’s AWESOME!”. He helped us find a good spot to camp, and after we set up camp, Alyssa returned to the shop to interview him, and I stayed behind to relax.

I spent a few hours playing mandolin, then exploring the BLM lands surrounding our campsite, climbing up to the tallest ridge nearby I could muster in flat-soled Vans. Back at the campsite, I hopped on my bike to head back to the shop to go get an ice cream and see how Alyssa was doing. I met her on the road between here and there, and she told me the interview went great – that he is just as fascinating as you might expect, and he was a fully willing and engaged interview subject. She also told me there was now a group of bicyclists who’d dropped into the valley and stopped by, and somehow one of them actually KNEW Pie from childhood. This sounded like surefire entertainment, so Alyssa headed to the campsite and I headed back to the store for ice cream and a show.

Sure enough, there was a group of 8-10 men who’d just mountain biked straight off one of the mesas surrounding the area, and sure enough, one of them was about 4 years younger than Pie but knew him from their elementary school through high school days back in Canarsie, Brooklyn. As I rolled up, Pie was regaling them with the tale of how back when he was up to no good as a teenager, he stole the bracelet, necklace, and ring off a professional basketball player who’d fallen asleep at a red light – and then later heard the player recount how he got robbed blind on Howard Stern. My favorite part – the player woke up as he was working the ring off his hand, and Pie instantly shifted gears into “HEY MAN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN’ YOU FELL ASLEEP AT THE RED LIGHT I CAME TO WAKE YOU UP COME ON MAN”. True or not, it was truly perfect entertainment.

I sat on the porch at the store for the better part of an hour listening to him hold court, the group of bicyclists gathered around him in a semicircle, occasionally recording his tales on their phones. When they got up and left, he rang me up for the soda and ice cream and a post card, thanking me profusely and genuinely for my business. The duality of Pie.

I returned to the campsite, and Alyssa and I tried our best to relax in the desert heat. We’d descended to about 4000-something ft, and as a result, it was still about 90-something in the shade. We relaxed, the nearest house about a half mile away, with our shirts off – Alyssa lying on the picnic table reading, and me sitting on my stool making a painting of the Bedrock Store based on a photo I’d taken (in order to avoid sitting in direct sunlight for a few hours).

The surrounding scenery was as beautiful a location for a campsite as you could imagine. Huge, red mesas towered over Paradox Valley on all sides, and as the sun began to set, it illuminated the mesas on the far side of the valley so brightly it seemed like they were glowing. It was like existing inside a commemorative postage stamp of the American Southwest.

When the sun dipped behind the mesa next to us, the world became bearable to move around in again, and we headed back up to the Bedrock Store to wash up with water from the hose and maybe have a nightcap with Pie if he was still around. Sure enough, he was, and we spent another hour or so chatting with him about life, the importance of mentors, the importance of humility and of chasing your dreams. We both found him not just entertaining but fascinating, and he captured our attention all evening.

As we left to go back to camp by the Dolores River, Alyssa mentioned it was my birthday the following morning. He said, “FUCK yeah, hang on a second!”, and flipped a switch that turned on a rope light sign he’d made on the front of the store that read “Happy Birthday”. Alyssa snapped a pic of me standing in front of it for good measure, and so did Pie. It was a lovely way to begin celebrating my birthday, for sure.

We said goodnight to Pie and retired to the campsite. It began to cool off and it was nice and comfortable inside our tent, where Alyssa got back to reading and I worked on this blog post for a while. I stayed up later than I had since we reached any real stretch of rural land, and at about 10:30 I popped my head out of the tent to see the stars. I was greeted with the Milky Way spilled out across the entire length of the sky, a sight I’d never seen before. It was an absolutely lovely way to end a wonderful day, and a great way to ring in my 31st year.

September 10, 2021

Bedrock, CO to Moab, UT

We woke up at about 6:30, and got our camp broken down by about 7 and change. We rode up the dirt path back to the store, and Pie was already there with a friend waiting for us. He plied us with free coffee and hot chocolate from his Keurig, and we chatted for a while again about his illustrious past. Our beverages done, he knew just when to let go of the line and walked us out the front door to our bikes, not wanting to hold us up. He snapped one last picture of us in front of the Happy Birthday sign, and then made us promise to send him Alyssa’s book and my artwork in the future. It was so nice to meet such an authentic soul as Pie, not just for entertainment value, but as a genuine inspiration. He really did live with a “do what you wanna do because no one else will do it for you” kind of attitude, and I think it’s both admirable and inspiring to see.

We got on the road, warm beverages in our bellies in the cold shade of the desert morning. We had a big day ahead of us – 60 miles or so into Moab, into our 7th state of Utah, with a very sizeable climb of about 4,600 ft out of Paradox Valley and down the other side of the La Sals towards Canyonlands and Arches National Parks. The climbing began immediately – the Bedrock Store is actually at lowercase b bedrock, and I’d planned the 2nd day of our stretch to Moab to contain absolutely no superfluous riding.

We rode up relatively kindly graded switchbacks up to a stunning view of Paradox Valley in the morning before proceeding further up into the rocky passes towards La Sal, UT. The climbing was hard but not insane, and we made good, steady progress all morning. At some point during the climb, we passed the Welcome to Utah sign, ushering in our seventh state of the trip and one that represents the end of the second leg of our journey through the US. After we ride the White Rim Trail, we’ll stop to spend some time with Alyssa’s sister Ashley near Salt Lake City before heading off again towards LA.

We passed a few bicycle tourists along the climb, stopping to chat briefly with them. One, a couple, recognized us – they were one of the Warmshowers hosts in Moab, and had been unable to host us that night because they had an overnight bike trip planned, and we happened to cross paths. They helped confirm some intel that Rod had given us back in Montrose about a mountain spring with a tap near the top of the most difficult climb of the day, and (I think intentionally, out of kindness) overestimated the length of the climb up to it for us.

Sure enough, the climb was hard – steep, tightly wound switchbacks carried us up onto a high plateau at nearly 9,000 feet again, and just before the top there was indeed a spring on the right hand side. I reached it first – climbing as we were – and enjoyed a wonderful and refreshing refill of all my water bottles literally straight from the source. If I got giardia from this water I wouldn’t even care, it hit so right.

A few minutes later, Alyssa topped the climb and made it to the spring as well, and we relaxed for a few minutes in the morning shade, sipping ice cold water and having some snacks.

We got back on our agenda and worked up the much more gentle climb up to the REAL summit of the day, somewhere near La Sal, UT. We stopped in at the General Store there in the small town, which was wonderfully appointed, and used the bathroom and had lunch. My lunch was a delicious, disgusting mishmash of calorie-dense foods to power me through the day; a pepperoni pizza hot pocket, teriyaki beef cup noodle, a mango Pepsi, and some gumdrops. Alyssa snacked on some Frosted Flakes, having been jonesing for them for easily 1000 miles now.

We popped over to the library in La Sal to hog their WiFi for a few minutes, still without reliable cell signal, to respond to any messages we could. There, Alyssa had to make some angry phone calls to the company she ordered her bike tires from, which had been cancelled for no reason, then delayed for no reason, and now she was being told they wouldn’t show up in Moab until after we left for the White Rim Trail. No solution was reached and she cancelled her order in frustration, but thankfully Moab is a cycling Mecca with roughly 400 bike shops to procure tires from.

We got rolling again in the real heat of the day, around 1:45, and finally began the descending portion of our day’s ride. We were averaging easily 24-26 mph for miles as we cruised downhill with a slight tailwind all the way to our right turn onto Highway 191 in Utah. As soon as we turned right onto this road, the scenery was immediately Peak Moab – amorphous, hulking red rock formations surrounded the highway, and we were clearly in the desert for real.

Highway 191 was kind of anxious riding – very heavy traffic, with a shoulder that sort of comes and goes – but the scenery and our pace were top notch. We absolutely flew through the mostly downhill miles to Moab, and soon enough, we arrived at our Warmshowers host’s house for the night on the outside edge of town.

Teri Ann greeted us from across her yard, which was strewn with sculptures made from mannequins, bottles, baby dolls, and scrap metal. She seemed like a really interesting personality, wearing a giant Andy Warhol print t-shirt standing amidst her own art gallery next to her El Camino with a custom scrap metal hood ornament with all the paint sanded off.

She showed us to her shower, and gave us an explanation of how it worked – there were no handles, so you turned the stem/cartridge with an adjustable wrench to turn it on and off. She seemed in a hurry, and left to run some errands.

I also took my leave, as we’d arrived just in time for my video call for therapy. When I was finished, I came back to the house and Alyssa was all clean and showered. I followed suit, in preparation for heading into town for a birthday dinner that my parents had arranged for me ahead of time – thank you again Mom & Dad!

Clean and tidy, we rode downhill into town for some delicious barbecue and beers at a BBQ & Blues music spot near downtown. It was lovely to not just literally have dinner taken care of, but to also just have someone bring me food and drinks after a long day on the bike. It felt very rewarding and like the period at the end of a day of physical accomplishment. I also ate basically my weight in pork and beef products so it also felt like its own physical accomplishment.

We rode back uphill (very, very slowly) towards Teri Ann’s house, and arrived at about 9. We brushed our teeth and didn’t see hide nor hair of anyone inside, so we retired to the tent to get settled for bed.

Both Alyssa and I had misunderstood Teri Ann’s Warmshowers profile, and had assumed we were going to be sleeping indoors that evening, which we both really wanted after a long hot day. We were both pretty cumulatively spent, and had very little gas in the tank to approach the social situation that makes up most Warmshowers experiences. We resolved in the tent to find another, more private place to stay to rest up for our adventure on the White Rim Trail.

We’re both still thankful that Teri Ann let us into her (very beautifully adorned, unique) home, and let us use her shower and sleep in her yard free of charge. It was inspiring to see what she’d built, and a shower was a salve after the 100 degree sun on the way into town.

In total, I had had an absolutely lovely birthday. I spent the entire day bicycling through some of the most breathtakingly beautiful landscapes I’d ever witnessed, I’d pridefully accomplished a long and difficult ride, and we’d made it to our next intermediate goal of Moab. Folks texted me all day long to give me happy birthday wishes, and it felt like I was close at hand for all my friends and family for the first time after 6+ weeks on the road.

As a final, slightly funny note: I realized that 3 of my last 5 birthdays have been spent on a bike tour. 2 of them with Warmshowers hosts! It’s like I enjoy doing this or something, go figure.